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mldrgrl · 4 years

Note

omg your little plot to the red shoe gif... i need them making out in the pilot and then continue what you said... please write it 😨🥵😍

Reckless

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13

Referenced post here

“Mosquito bites,” he says.

“What?”

“They’re mosquito bites.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I got eaten alive out there myself.”

The rising panic she’s been feeling turns to relief and she’s flooded with a release of adrenaline. She fumbles with her robe, hastily drawing it back up over her shoulders and pulling the knot closed with shaking hands. She turns without thinking, throwing her arms around him in gratitude so forcefully she feels him stumble backwards, but then one of his arms comes around her shoulders and he holds her back, albeit very loosely.

“You’re shaking,” he says, and rubs the side of her arm.

“I’m just...cold,” she lies, through gritted teeth.

He leans into her, stretching his arm out to place the candle he’s holding onto the table beside them and then he wraps both his arms around her. She’s embarrassed by how nice it feels to be held by him and then chastises herself for her weakness. Don’t do it, she tells herself. Not another coworker. Not another superior. She pulls away from him, keeping her eyes on the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says.

“For what?”

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I’m not qualified.”

Oh god, she thinks. Stop talking. Just shut up, Dana. She braces herself to be condescended to. She doesn’t know if it’s all men, or just her luck that the men she’s had experiences with all have a terrible knack for making her feel even more inferior when she’s at her most vulnerable. And Mulder would have every right. She’s a liability, not an asset.

“Let’s get you warmed up,” he says.

He guides her to the bed with a gentle grasp on her elbow and sits her down. He unfolds the blanket at the end and drapes it over her shoulders like a cape. She pulls it closed around her like it will protect her somehow. He crouches in front of her and tips his head to the side.

“Can I get you anything?” he asks. “A glass of water?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“What is it you think you’re not cut out for here?”

“I’m not a field agent. I’m a medical doctor. A pathologist.”

“And a damn good one, from what I’ve seen.”

“How would you know that?”

He shrugs. “Your reports are easily accessible in the database. I read a few. Very thorough and you have an eye for detail.”

“It’s not doing me a lot of good here.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know what you think of me, Mulder, but I was given this assignment to find answers and all I’ve found are questions.”

He nods. “And?”

“Don’t you want answers?”

“Of course I do. But, the x-files are about asking the questions that no one else will. And sometimes that’s more important than just getting answers.”

She stares at him with two simultaneous realizations. He’s completely serious, for one. And despite the hoops he’s made her jump through, he never once tried to discourage her from doing her job.

“Look, I know I’ve been giving you a hard time,” he says, as though he can read her thoughts. “But, these files are important to me and I can’t let anything happen to them.”

“I want to help you.”

“Do you?”

There’s something in his tone that she can’t grasp. He doesn’t believe her, but he wants to believe. Almost earnestly. It kickstarts her heart a bit. She wants to say something reassuring, but doesn’t know what that would be.

A loud crack of thunder like a gunshot makes her jump and tense. Mulder squeezes her knee once and moves to stand, but she covers his hand and even though she knows she shouldn’t, she pulls him into her and kisses him. It isn’t passionate, but it isn’t abrupt or awkward either. It’s surprising, but warm and soft. He pulls back and doesn’t say anything, but she can tell he’s thinking what she’s thinking. This is wrong, we shouldn’t, but I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop.

He kisses her this time and the blanket falls from her shoulders as she opens her arms to him. She brings him down to the bed with her as she lays back. He hovers above her, one knee on the bed, but still standing. He’s got one hand pressed down next to her head and the other cupping her face, stroking her cheek as he kisses her. It’s not enough. There’s something magnetic about him. As close as he is, she still wants him closer. Her body is crying out for his touch.

Everything happens so very fast and she knows it has to be this way for if they stop to think about it, they’ll just stop. But, that is not an option. She pushes his shirt off and he unknots her robe and she unbuckles his belt and still there are just too many clothes and she can’t get enough. They’re both being so reckless and irresponsible and she tries to care, but she just doesn’t. She only regrets that they don’t even make an attempt at slowing down.

“Oh, god,” is all she can say. He whispers her name over and over. Scully, Scully, Scully. Yes, her body sings in response. Yes, yes, yes.

Now, they’re both trembling and the rain hasn’t even had time to subside. Mulder retreats almost immediately, rolling away from her and hunching over the side of the bed. She still feels too liquid to move, but he’s up and pulling his boxer shorts on and heading to the bathroom. She forces her limbs to work, to push her upright and to bring the sheet up over her body. She doesn’t know where her robe is, or her underwear. She’s leaning over, patting the floor with one hand and holding the sheet to her chest with the other, when Mulder comes back out. He sets a glass of water on the nightstand and hands her a warm, damp washcloth.

Discreetly, she cleans herself up and watches Mulder flop down in the chair by the window. He puts his head in his hands and braces his elbows on his knees. Her gut twinges in remorse as she takes a sip of water.

“I was twelve and my sister was eight,” he says. “When she disappeared. My parents were at the neighbor’s and I was supposed to be in charge. We were arguing over what to watch on TV one minute and then she was just...gone.”

“Gone?”

“I struggled for a long time trying to remember what happened. They found me passed out on the floor next to the lockbox where my father kept his gun. And Samantha was just...gone.”

“You never found her?”

He shakes his head. “There was no evidence, no note, no nothing. And no one would talk about it. It tore the family apart.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Eventually, I went to school in England. I came back and got recruited by the bureau. It seems I had a natural aptitude for applying behavioral models to criminal cases.”

“I’ve read your monograph on Monte Propps. We studied it, actually, in the academy.”

Mulder snorts a little and rubs his face with both hands. “My success, ironically, is what first gave me the freedom to pursue my own interests. That’s when I stumbled on the x-files.”

“You found them by accident?”

“At first, it looked like a garbage dump for UFO sightings, alien abduction reports, the kind of stuff that most people laugh at as being ridiculous, but I was fascinated. I read all the cases I could get my hands on. Hundreds of them. I read everything I could about paranormal phenomenon, the occult, and…”

“And what?”

“There's classified government information I've been trying to access, but someone has been blocking my attempts to get at it.”

“Who?”

“Someone at a higher level of power. The only reason I've been allowed to continue with my work is because I've made connections in congress.”

“Why would they block your attempts? Are they afraid you’ll leak the information?”

He looks up at her and steeples his fingers, resting his chin upon them. “You’re part of that agenda.”

“I’m not part of any agenda. I told you, I’m-”

“You are, you just don’t know it.”

“That can’t be true. It’s just not possible.”

“I'm telling you this, Scully, because you need to know. Because of what you've seen. In my research, I've worked very closely with a man named Dr. Heitz Werber and he's taken me through deep regression hypnosis. I've been able to go into my own repressed memories to the night my sister disappeared. I can recall a bright light outside and a presence in the room. I was paralyzed, unable to respond to my sister's calls for help.”

“What are you saying, Mulder?”

“We are not alone. The government knows it and I need to know why they’re hiding it. Nothing else matters to me and this is as close as I’ve gotten.” He drops his head back into his hands and scrubs hard at his face. When he looks up at her again, his eyes are red and wet. “I don’t ever talk about this with anyone.”

With the sheet wrapped around her, Scully gets up and moves to him. He slumps back into the chair with a sigh and she sits across his lap, putting her arm around him. He looks up at her wearily and she brushes the hair off his forehead before she places her lips to his brow.

“I want to help you find the answers,” she says.

“I know you do.”

She tips her head at him in question and he pushes the sheet off of her shoulder to run his hand down her back. His fingertips brush over the marks on her lower back, tingling where he touches her.

“You believed me,” he says. “No one else ever has.”

She stares at his face, wanting to protest, but it’s true. She felt those marks and in that moment, she believed what she knows is impossible. Her eyes fall to his mouth and she strokes his jaw, thumb grazing the mole at the back of his cheek. She wants to kiss him again, but take her time with it. The power is still out and they have all night.

The phone at Mulder’s nightstand rings and they both tense. On the fifth ring, Mulder eases Scully from his lap and she slips into the chair as he gets up to answer. He rubs the back of his neck as he barks a greeting.

“What?” he says. “Who is this? How did-hello?”

“Who was it?” she asks, when he hangs up.

“I don’t know. A woman. She said that Peggy O’Dell is dead.”

“The girl in the wheelchair?”

“Unless there’s some other Peggy O’Dell I don’t know about.”

Scully stands and spots her robe on the floor, along with her underwear. She picks them up and clutches them against her chest with the sheet. Mulder looks away and then brushes past her towards the bathroom.

“I’ll get dressed,” he says.

“I’ll...meet you back here when I’m done?”

“Okay.”

“Mulder?”

He stops in the door to the bathroom, but doesn’t look back.

“Should we talk about...this?” she asks, gesturing back and forth in the space between them.

“Maybe when the case is over. I can’t really...afford to be distracted right now. You understand?”

“I do.” She nods, but feels a pang of disappointment.

“Good.”

She pulls her robe back on, stuffs her underwear in the pockets, and leaves the sheet on the floor before she heads back to her room.

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #pilot AU #manipulating dialogue to account for canon inaccuracies down the road #hindsight is 2020 #keep a script bible CC #Anonymous

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ask-the-second-chance-frights · 3 years

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So lefty odd question but whats your thoughts on paranormal stuff?

Im just interested in that. I also collect some of it for test despite the consequences sometimes-

For my abilities and research I honestly feel their more of a burden then help

Im mostly good at setting fires or something go's horrible-

Dont ask on that last bit...

Paranormal stuff? You mean like stuff people can’t explain, like aliens, and zombies? I don’t tend to look at it much, I believe there is no evidence to say they don’t exist, my opinion overall is neutral.

I would say what happened to Alec is more classified as supernatural as opposed to paranormal, a lot of people I've spoken to don’t know there's a difference, I had to explain it to Michael previously.

If you set fires, I would say make sure you know how to put them out, and how to keep it controlled, because playing with fire is dangerous.

#Ask #Answered by Lefty #Five Nights at Freddy’s #Fazbear Frights #Lonely Freddy #Lefty the Bear #lonelyfreddydraws

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aion-rsa · 3 years

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Why The Secrets of Skinwalker Ranch Don’t Stay on Skinwalker Ranch

https://ift.tt/2C1xL0O

History’s The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch features ongoing investigations into one of the country’s most mysterious locales.

The titular ranch allegedly experiences paranormal activity regularly from UFOs and cattle mutilations to incarnate voices and poltergeists…and sometimes several at the same time. Strange occurrences on the ranch have been the focus of several scientific investigations, including from a secretive program housed in the Pentagon. What is not as well known is that some investigators claim the paranormal phenomena follow them home. Brandon Fugal, the elusive owner of Skinwalker Ranch, spoke with Den of Geek about how what happens at Skinwalker Ranch doesn’t always stay there.

Fugal is a prominent businessman and real estate developer in Utah. He first heard about the Skinwalker Ranch at a local bookstore.

“The ranch was first brought to my attention when I was at Barnes & Noble, back in 2006, and saw Dr. Colm Kelleher and George Knapp’s book Hunt for the Skinwalker on the shelf,” Fugal says. “I actually bought it and read it on the weekend. I found it to be very interesting.”

Fugal says he didn’t think much more about the ranch until 2015 when two science advisors of another Utah real estate magnate, Robert Bigelow, approached him. Bigelow, who also founded Bigelow Aerospace, had been funding scientific investigation on the ranch since he had purchased it in the late 1990s. Kelleher was Bigelow’s lead investigator.

Fugal says he had developed a relationship with the two science advisors during “another effort that I had been involved with a decade ago.”

According to Fugal, the advisors asked him “whether I would be willing to entertain a potential joint venture or acquisition of the property for the purpose of advancing the research beyond what Mr. Bigelow had done for 20 years.”

“I disclosed to them that I was approaching the topic as a healthy skeptic and that I had never seen a UFO, ghost, or anything of the sort, and that I believe that there was most likely a natural prosaic explanation for what had been reported in the book and on the property,” Furgal says. “They were amused and shared with me the reality of what their investigation revealed. They also disclosed that the ranch had been part of a five-year Pentagon black-budget program studying the UFO phenomenon and that, although the results of that investigation remain classified and confidential – how do I say this? The phenomenon is real.”

Fugal says he is no longer skeptical that something mysterious is happening at the ranch.

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“People ask me all the time whether I am now a believer based on what we have seen and recorded during my ownership of the ranch,” says Fugal. “The honest, most direct answer I can provide is that I am not a believer. I am an ‘experiencer.’ I know for a fact that it is real and have witnessed with my own eyes, with other credible witnesses at my side, what can only be described as daylight sightings of exotic craft over Skinwalker Ranch.”

Fugal’s paranormal experience started soon after his research on the ranch began.

“Six months into our investigation, I had an experience while entertaining a visiting dignitary and his security detail that involved an undeniable sighting of what can only be described as a 40 to 50-foot long silver, grayish, disc-like object that performed maneuvers that were stunning and defy conventional explanation.”

Fugal stressed that this sighting was in broad daylight and included several witnesses. He says, after the sighting, they continued to experience paranormal phenomena.

“During that same afternoon, we experienced everything from our smartphones being completely drained from about 80% charge to zero to other electromagnetic anomalies, even acute medical episodes that attended the incidents that occurred on that fateful day.”

Anyone who watches The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch or has read the book Hunt for the Skinwalker: Science Confronts the Unexplained at a Remote Ranch in Utah will know that many of those who investigate the ranch have had personal experiences with the unknown. I have been covering the ranch for over a decade, and at an event with investigators and their spouses, I had discovered they believe the phenomenon often follows them home. So much so that they now refer to this as the “Hitchhiker Phenomenon.”

“We don’t like to talk about the hitchhiker too much because everybody’s afraid it’s going to trigger it or something,” lead investigator on The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch Dr. Travis Taylor told Den of Geek in a recent live stream interview. “I have several colleagues that were putting instruments out to measure things at their house, as well as at the ranch. And we’re measuring simultaneous events occurring at both places. That may be a thousand miles apart.”

“It just happened to me,” says Taylor. “My brand new car, so it just shuts off suddenly, all the lights start blinking on and off, and crazy, which we’ve seen happen at the ranch. And something was going on at the same time at the ranch. I had an event; actually, that’ll be in this season [of The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch]. I won’t talk too much about it for spoilers.”

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", mediaId: "a6804a75-7ca4-41af-aac9-2344e1cc16e0" }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

Fugal says he is aware of the hitchhiker phenomenon but has not experienced it himself.

“Thankfully, I have not had that experience, personally. But I do know members of my team and visitors that have had that experience,” says Fugal. “Strange activity following them home and even terrorizing their family.”

“It’s a known fact that numerous participants, including military operatives, refuse to ever set foot on the property again due to the negative experiences that they have had, including phenomena following them home,” continues Fugal. “Even Mr. Bigelow has had experiences that have followed him, resulting in his refusal to ever visit the property ever again.”

History’s The Secret of Skinwalker Ranch season 2 is currently airing Tuesdays at 9 p.m. ET

The post Why The Secrets of Skinwalker Ranch Don’t Stay on Skinwalker Ranch appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3woq0c2

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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hatchetfieldshortstories · 4 years

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2. Start Over

Part 1

(Black Friday, TGWDLM, John & Wilbur)

John floated in the abyss.

He knew Lex had escaped that man’s clutches. He had done all he could, and now he was fading.

He could only see himself, and he was quickly dematerializing. It didn’t hurt, in fact, it felt like nothing. As he faded, he began to become more aware of the black and white. It was simply... nothing. And yet, as his human mind deteriorated, he was able to understand things he hadn’t before. He had maybe a few minutes left until he was fully absorbed into the black and white. And then... he didn’t know.

His body went first. Soon only his consciousness was left. It was strangely calm. Everything was quiet, except for John’s mind.

Maybe... maybe he could try to talk to Wilbur, maybe his consciousness would live on, connected to everything and the endless nothing of the Black and White.

As his mind unraveled, he felt a surge as memories started flooding out. The blackness shifted, and he found himself in a familiar place, and saw... himself. John watched a younger, lighter version of himself pace up and down a dull hallway. There were a few doors set into the walls. John would be called through one of them shortly. The younger him was 25 and wore a military uniform, emblazoned with the flag of the United States. His hair was cropped short to his skull, and his face was just on the edge of looking worn.

“Mc Namara,” said a rough voice from one of the doorways. John turned around to see one of the doors had opened.

He found himself in a room lit by only an overhead light. There was a desk, with some files on it, and a cup of black coffee, as well as some pens. Behind the desk, there was a chair. In the chair sat a young man, who looked only a bit older than John. He looked between 26 and 30, with tired eyes and dark, slightly reddish brown hair, which was mostly slicked back save for a cowlick which didn’t look like it would ever go down. John noticed a dog tag tucked under the man in the chair’s well-loved jean jacket. The guy looked up, and smiled at John, who was still standing awkwardly in front of the door.

“Well, take a seat,” said the man. He had a soft, warm voice, with maybe a hint of a southern accent mixed in, but it wasn’t very apparent.

John walked around the side of the desk and sat down, directly facing whoever it was who was in front of him. Whoever it was stuck out his hand.

“General Wilbur Cross, P.E.I.P. We call it peep,” he said.

John shook Wilbur’s hand. It was surprisingly cool.

“Sorry, sir,” said John, “But what does P.E.I.P. stand for?”

Wilbur leaned back a little.

“Ah, of course, you wouldn’t know...” he said. “...you’re not one of the peeps. That was a joke.”

He smiled a little, pleased with his joke.

“...How long have you been waiting to use that one?” asked John, uncrossing his arms.

“A while, to be honest,” Wilbur admitted. John laughed a little. Wilbur continued.

“Paranormal, Extraterrestrial, and Interdimensional Phenomena. P.E.I.P.”

“So you guys fight ghosts and aliens?” scoffed John.

“Oh, they’re much more than ghosts and aliens, and we do a lot more than fight them,” said Wilbur. “We’ve seen a lot more than you could imagine. But that’s classified, until you join us.”

“What do you want me for?” Asked John. He was actually kind of interested.

“We’re a small team. We need another great mind to join the fight with us,” Wilbur leaned forward on his elbows. “So are you smart?”

“That depends what you define “smart” as,” John hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. But there was something about Wilbur that made him feel safe.

“What’s your name, kid?” Asked Wilbur. He seemed to have taken an interest in John.

“John, John McNamara, General Cross.” John stated.

“You can call me Wilbur. Nice to meet you, John.” Wilbur drummed his fingers on the desk and prepared to ask another question, but was cut off.

“Excuse me, how old are you?”

“You haven’t answered one of my questions, how smart are you?” after a pause, he added, “I’m twenty eight.” He saw John’s raised eyebrow. “I’m still your superior. Answer the question, kid.”

“If you measure my intelligence by how much I know, then my answer is the more I know, the less I know I don’t know. So in that case I’m smart, but also not smart,” John stared back into Wilbur’s eyes. Wilbur had a very intense gaze.

Wilbur grinned and laced his fingers together on top of the pile of files.

“They picked a good one.”

John smiled back. There was something about Wilbur. A feeling. John let it sit in the back of his mind and focused on keeping eye contact with Wilbur.

“Okay, so, tell me,” Wilbur started again. “What do you live by? What’s your purpose?”

John thought.

“I have a duty to the country and its people,” he recited finally.

Wilbur shook his head.

“Hm. We’ll get there.”

“Why?” Asked John. “What’s do you live by?”

Wilbur kept eye contact.

“Love. Strength. The universal truth,” he said. After a moment, he continued. “So what do you say? Are you ready to join P.E.I.P? Fight with us? I think you’d be a good fit.” He stood up. John did the same. Wilbur stuck out his hand.

After a brief second of consideration, John shook Wilbur’s hand again.

“So what now? Do we go to your headquarters? Are you my mentor now?” he asked.

Wilbur let go of John’s hand.

“Yeah,” said Wilbur. “I guess we are, and I guess I am.”

John laughed a little.

“You’re three years older than me.”

Wilbur grinned.

“I can still be your mentor.”

They walked around the desk, towards the door.

“After you,” said Wilbur as he opened it.

End of Part One

#black friday #tgwdlm #john mcnamara #wilbur cross #john x wilbur #platonic ship #peip

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non-binarydigit · 3 years

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7 Careers for Unexplained Phenomena Enthusiasts

We’ve all dreamt of becoming paranormal investigators like Shane and Ryan, X-Files agents like Mulder and Scully, or Ufologists like MUFON researchers. Unfortunately, there is not a high demand for any of these jobs, the pay sucks, and you’ll probably be the laughing stock of the office at your second job. Want a more realistic career while still indulging your passion for the unexplained? Here are 7 careers that might suit your fancy.

7. Journalist

2019 Median Pay: $46,270

Job Outlook (19-29): -11%

Often times, reality is stranger than fiction. Journalism is full of the unexpected, making it perfect for enthusiasts of the unexplained. You can be anything from a freelance journalist to a correspondent for a large news outlet, such as CNN or ABC. In this case, you are actually obligated to share the information you collect with the rest of the world. Due to the decline of radio, television, and newspaper in favor of online news, the job outlook for journalists is abysmal, and the pay sucks. I wouldn’t recommend this career unless this is your life’s passion.

6. FBI Agent

2019 Median Pay: $65,170

Job Outlook (19-29): 5%

While the X-Files don’t exist (or do they?), becoming an FBI agent often grants you access to classified information. While it would get you fired or arrested to disclose any entrusted information, the FBI is a prestigious agency to work for. You are also tasked to bring justice wherever you find it in the United States and abroad. Working as an FBI agent does require a significant amount of physical ability and getting accepted to the Academy is difficult. There are other jobs within the FBI that are just as important as policing and crime scene investigation, such as victim consolation, information technology, and accounting. These jobs may pay more or less than the median pay listed above, but there is a career for everybody at the Bureau.

5. Nuclear Engineer

2019 Median Pay: $113,460

Job Outlook (19-29): -13%

Nuclear engineers are responsible for perfecting, controlling, and researching the processes involved in nuclear energy and radiation. Nuclear engineering is a great career option for those interested in government conspiracies relating to the use of atomic bombs and radioactivity. While nuclear engineers are highly paid, the field is declining due to energy companies opting for cheaper alternatives.

4. Psychologist

2019 Median Pay: $80,370

Job Outlook (19-29): 3%

For those interested in parapsychology and unsolved mysteries, becoming a psychologist might be a job you’d enjoy. Psychologists work in many different sectors, such as business, the justice system, social work, schools, and clinics. While it may not be in your best interest to become a practicing parapsychologist, psychologists often end up to be lifelong learners in order to do their job well, meaning they are up-to-date on the latest developments. Due to the increase of undergraduates majoring in psychology, a master’s or doctorate degree is often needed to get anywhere in the field.

3. Anthropologist/Archaeologist/Paleontologist

2019 Median Pay: $63,670

Job Outlook (19-29): 5%

Are humans really the descendants of an ancient alien race? What kinds of strange creatures have yet to be discovered? While the former question has mostly been debunked, anthropology and archaeology are great fields to study organism evolution and history. In the case of cultural anthropology, the job may also have implications in folklore and mythology, instrumental to understanding the development of belief in the supernatural. Just like with psychology, you will often need an advanced degree to make a name for yourself in this field.

2. Astrophysicist

2019 Median Pay: $122,220

Job Outlook (19-29): 7%

Need I say more? If your interest in the supernatural comes from a cosmic standpoint, becoming an astrophysicist or astronomer is a perfect job for you. You need to be good at math and science for this field, though, but it’s more focused than general physics or mathematics. While you will probably need a professional degree for this field, the pay is fantastic (the highest on this list) and the projected job growth is faster than average.

1. Aerospace Engineer

2019 Median Pay: $116,500

Job Outlook (19-29): 3%

Similar to astrophysics, this career gets the number one spot on this list because it involves actually designing and building aircrafts, missiles, spacecrafts, and other machinery necessary for national defense and commercial flight. Plus, you often only need a bachelor’s degree to achieve a high paying job.

The truth is out there, folks, and you could get paid to seek it.

Let me know if you have any other careers for this list!

#anthropology #supernatural #paranormal #x files #folklore #psychology #aliens #ufo #cosmology #astronomy #mythology #unexplained #crime #fbi #engineering #parapsychology #physics #career

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sugar-petals · 5 years

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:: BTS ◇ Being Their Werewolf Girlfriend

NOTE › @.btsxdoll reblogged a ‘where are the female werewolves in fantasy?’ post which inspired this. enjoy ♡

↳ warnings 🌙 dom/sub, smut, angst, marking, dash of humor

[ jimin ] ➝ He definitely knows that catchy Shakira song, even the Spanish version. But what a real she-wolf roaming his garden at 3 AM ends up being like will blow his mochi mind. Oh yes. It really is a whole new world. And holy shit, you are one hell of a gnarling beast on that lawn. Jimin will be honest with you: If he could, he’d probably brag on twitter all day that you have gigantic claws. That he’s allowed to touch them when you aren’t particularly wilding out somewhere in the local forest scratching pine trees or off to hang out with a fifteen-member, cigarette-smoking ghoul gang.

But since it’s classified who you are, no tweets allowed. Sadly, he can’t meet the cool ghouls either. For obvious reasons though, he’d be too tasty a dinner, and he understands that you want to protect him. It’s already hard on you to have a kind of parallel life far from your control. Something so covert, scary, and taboo. Mingling with dangerous cemetary creatures for a night, only to return to a completely normal life. As if nothing happened! But cordial Jimin reassures you. Doesn’t make a hidden werewolf identity make someone the most interesting person ever? He couldn’t be a better boyfriend.

[ taehyung ] ➝ It’s no secret that sweet Tae loves everything fluffy. The boy can’t lie, he likes your fur and muzzle. Every time you transform, he even keeps a diary entry on it. Keenly documenting everything he observes from characteristics to variations of behavior depending on the environment. You really could say he’s a werewolf biologist. He even discovers that if you eat red cabbage the with the moon waning, the transformation happens a lot faster than usual. Seriously, who could be better at dealing with any canine activity — large-scale, small-scale — than dog lover Taehyung.

What he’s scared of and prevents a lot of cuddles are your, um, well. Huge dripping fangs and a bite force of five-hundred pounds per square inch to back it up. He has a reason to be careful. However, you’d rather devour some random suburb animals even in your worst of moods. Yeontan excluded. He likes you. It’s fun communicating with him. The world is interesting through werewolf eyes, but since it’s only for one night or two, Yeontan’s perspective is even more interesting since his form is permanent. Rascal sure knows a lot of gossip that would otherwise have never seen the light of day.

[ jin ] ➝ Now, let’s set the record straight. If there’s one man on the face of this sordid planet who loves sizzling danger? It’s Worldwide Fearless on duty. Jin is the chosen one to have as a designated boyfriend. All his life he dreamed of eerie thrills like that, and it became true. Fate! The first night you were shocked to see your ears grow all fuzzy out of literal nowhere, but Jin knew he made the right dating choice. Your final form has the guy all fired up. He desperately wants to be bitten, growled at, paw-slapped, tossed around, walked on (!), licked head to toe. Long story short, he’s your #1 biggest were-fan.

But at the end of the day, no sexual feelings and acts involved. You’ve talked about that at length. To him, such conversations are normal, but which other couple ever talks about something as touchy. Jin would totally be a monster fucker if you weren’t completely beside yourself after transformation. So there is surely be no guarantee of what could happen. Especially with you being a very hungry lycanthrope raiding the basement. Which he neatly stocks up three days before the big event, and you can feast on it instead of turning this whole party into a literal “EatJin”. God forbid, you’d rather walk on him.

[ yoongi ] ➝ As cool as a cucumber. His mother raised a level-headed boy. When the moon is out there taking its monthly liberty to go off I guess, he sits on the porch with his phone’s lunar calendar and Rolex out, only waiting for shit to go down. Yes, he’s mastered all predictive methods. Sweet technology has made it easy for him. You always joke how Yoongi might as well open a ‘Were-Watching’ tourism business if the world were just a bit more open-minded and capitalism an ethical thing. Anyways. In the meantime, you’re busy hulking out in the cornfields and howling like there’s no tomorrow.

Usually coming back for breakfast, hornier than the local elks in heat. Still with all rabid instincts half active, ready to pounce on what smells so good lying in your bed without pajamas on. Yoongi thinks he’s just one lucky dude not just getting all marked up, but occasionally salivated on when he’s waking up. Normally, sex would end up casual, but post-transformation banging is guaranteed to be energetic and sweaty beyond what he believed was possible. Which guy has his girlfriend plant herself on top of him baring her teeth like, well yeah, a fucking wolf? And he thought life would be endlessly boring.

[ hoseok ] ➝ When you first approach him with your secret five months into the relationship, he thinks that you want to act out some hybrid fanfiction or roleplay. You say no Hoseok, I really am, y’know, huge and a dangerous ball of fur once in a while. But to no avail. To him, out of sight, out of mind. The oddly not-like-you-but-actually-you-shaped footprints around the garage don’t convince him. Hell, even the two-day ‘mountain vacation’ you take every four weeks doesn’t make Hoseok question that something very wolfy could be going on. “A wolf? Just drop by then!” he says, all nonchalant.

So it takes the big wolf lady to knock on his window to prove that she’s not kidding and this is what he signed up for. He will take a while to digest things, reconsider his priorities. Is he prey, is he not? Tongue-in-cheek, you assure him that you only munch on the super built hikers who throw their trash into nature. You surely wouldn’t feel saturated eating a skinny guy. That does help Hoseok feel off limits in an unexpected way. There’s still much to get used to, but his chef talent can deal with your strong appetite surging every once in a while and he helps to remove the footprints so the neighbors don’t worry.

[ namjoon ] ➝ It’s like Fox Mulder seeing actual aliens land on earth. Hardly surprised. “Knew it!” is the final verdict when you confess to RM what’s going on. After some lightheaded pre-full-moon feelings make you rip up a sofa pillow at night. Entirely in a daze and pretty much close to howling already. Namjoon quickly understands the scope of peril and eventually opts for sleeping at Jimin’s if it gets a little too animalistic. Other than that, he’s well-informed. He might as well read ‘Mystic Creatures of Moderity′ in his favorite chair while you’re busy gnawing on a raw steak locking yourself in the kitchen.

Namjoon is happy to have something weird going on in his life to shake things up. It feels like a movie to him. Arguably, to others, it would be bizarre and both of you have to hide everything properly. Blasting funky disco music during your noisier transformations and such. Or pretending you’re a very well-crafted 3D robot Halloween costume which people do buy into. But some paranormal stuff happening in his backyard once a month? A whole lot of shed grey hair clogging the shower the day after transforming? Who gives a fuck, it’s just Joon’s girlfriend having a jolly good time. X-Files case closed.

[ jungkook ] ➝ Admittedly... a bit obsessed. With seeing your full eight feet tall incarnation, doing some unhinged shit out in the woods. That’s sexy. But JK is also caring — you’re hypersensitive to anything silver and most other human interference, after all. Sure, his scent has been up close for a long enough time not to trigger you anymore, even in your full wolven form. But there are still risks involved. The angel promises to stay by your side regardless. And indeed: He’s gonna camp in a raised blind with binoculars to watch over you in the forest moonlight. No zookeeper will get their hands on you, promised.

Jungkook really admires you in every aspect. No judgment. The animal enthusiast in him just can’t help it. Wolves in and of themselves are a huge interest to him, now he gets to know that you can grow paws, a tail and all that, the full package? Wow. He will never not be stunned. Jungkook wants to know everything about your kind. What you eat, how your heightened senses work, how you navigate your territory, what you feel. He also loves the thrill of adrenaline because boy do you go apeshit in the first couple hours of moonlight exposure. JK is a positive type of overwhelmed. The guy’s in love.

#bts #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts fantasy au #bts reactions #original content

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mythicallore · 5 years

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Encounter with Pale Humanoids

Among the many strange encounters in the world of the paranormal, there are often those that serve to be particularly baffling. These are the cases that hover out beyond our ability to really classify them or put a name to them. Are they ghosts, mysterious animals, aliens, or what? No answers are clear in such accounts, and they lurk out there in the periphery of the fringe. Among these bizarre accounts are tales from all over of what appear to be some sort of thin, pale beings, often hunched over, crouching, and crawling, that have come to be collectively known as “Pale Crawlers,” and which are every bit as creepy as you might imagine.

Probably one of the most well-known cases of these odd entities is that of what have come to be called the Fresno Nightcrawlers. The first account of these truly bizarre and unidentifiable creatures surfaced in the 1990s, when a video came forward showing something very strange indeed lurking about in the area of Fresno, California. There was a family who were concerned about trespassers on their property, as their dogs had begun to bark out into the darkness nearly every night, and this prompted them to install a security camera outside by their garage, facing the front lawn.

That next morning after they set up the camera they were in for quite a shock, as there in the video was a pair of pale beings a few feet in height, with no discernible arms and two long, spindly, almost stilt-like legs that appear to bend backwards. Interestingly, there seems to be some sort of fabric flapping around the legs, drawing many comparisons to a pair of disembodied walking pants. In the footage the creatures smoothly and fluidly move across the front lawn and out of view, and that’s that. You can see the footage here.

The quality of the footage is sadly low, making it nearly impossible to discern any real details, but the general shape and their odd way of moving were creepy enough to have the family contact the police. Before long the media got a hold of the footage and the “Fresno Nightcrawlers” became a hot topic. Although thought by many to be a hoax, others say that this footage has captured something truly otherworldly, and the footage was subjected to a detailed analysis on the SyFy Channel show “Fact or Faked,” which showed that the footage seemed to be genuine, and they were unable to reproduce the same results by intentionally faking the video.

Following on the heels of this video was another, this time taken over in California’s Yosemite National Park in March of 2011. In this case surveillance cameras had been set up by park officials for the purpose of identifying some intruders who had been vandalizing an area of the park, and again they seemed to have caught on tape something anything but human. Again there is a pair of spindly white entities loping across the frame on a hillside, one seemingly much smaller that the other, and both with what appears to be some sort of webbing connected from the knees to the upper body. Although they appear to be very similar, it is unknown if the Fresno creatures and the ones from Yosemite are related or not, and there have been theories ranging from that this was all a hoax, to that they are Native spirits from lore, ghosts, or even aliens. No one really knows.

Something similar to these entities was sighted in January 2004, in a case documented by researcher Albert S. Rosales. The sighting allegedly happened in Manchester, Dearborn County, Indiana, when a young man was driving along a remote rural road in the area. As the witness rounded a bend, his headlights illuminated a tall, frail looking, pale being crouched over a puddle of water. As the witness passed the thing he looked back and could make out that it moved in a disjointed, odd manner, and had, according to him, “protruding joints that buckled out.”

As he watched the thing flickering in the red light cast by his tailights, the crouched, bone white creature purportedly stood to a height of an estimated 6 feet 7 inches tall and began to walk about in a “strange manner.” Interestingly, as he watched there was apparently another car that came along and seemed to swerve to avoid the thing before stopping. The witness would talk to the elderly couple in the car and they would confirm having seen the same thing, of which they said, “It was no human being, it was no man.” They were all so spooked that they decided to drive out of there in close procession together. Indiana has produced some other similarly odd reports as well. In one case from the winter of 2016, the witness was out feeding goats on a farm in Daviess County, Indiana, at around 8 PM, and when she finished she started walking back. The witness would say of what happened next:

After I had finished I began to walk back. I had crossed one field and was about halfway through the narrow path when I started to hear rustling in the underbrush. All I had with me was a little flashlight that only shined about 10ft in front of me. I was almost to the end of the path when I spotted something. It was on all fours with a bony frame, elongated limbs, and pale skin. While the first part of that description sounds pretty generic, it did seem to have a long and highly flexible neck. Not long after I noticed it it noticed me and bolted down the path. It ran, almost skuttling into the second field. This field had a small hill in the center, this thing fled and disappeared over one side. I ran as fast as I could around the other side of the small hill and zig-zagged back to my house where I quickly locked all of my doors. This thing was terrifying, but it seemed watchful more than anything, for now.

In another account from Indiana, documented in the National Cryptid Society database, we have a case from Michigan City, Indiana from 2012, in the middle of a lightning storm to add some atmosphere. The witness claims that she had been staying at the beach house of a friend by Lake Michigan and that there had been a lightning storm at the time. At around 2 AM some of them went outside to smoke and watch the lightning, and that was when they noticed the beam of a flashlight scanning the tall grass by the shore nearby as if searching for something. Thinking this to be a bit odd, the group of friends watched on and saw that the beam had captured an elongated, grayish humanoid looking creature stretched out on the beach, and the witness would say:

The light sweeps by something in the grass, then it shines back onto it. What was illuminated was very strange. It appeared to be a naked guy crawling around on the grass. Although, it had elongated arms and legs. It was moving kinda fast crunched over. It only lasted a few seconds, long enough for all of us to see it. Then, after the thing ran off, the flashlight shines directly at us. It stayed pointing at us until it went out after a few seconds. Creepy.

So, we’re all like WTF was that, we asked what each other saw. We all seen a weird stretched out naked guy. The only explainable thing it could have possibly been was a drunk gangly naked guy. But, I don’t think so because it looked abnormally stretched, the light pointed at us, and it freaked everyone out. It was something strange. I can’t say what the height of it was accurately, maybe around 7ft tall. My husband said it looked like something from a Marilyn Manson music video.I wanted to go down there. I wanted to see if we could find it. But, no one would go and they were creeped out and wanted to go back inside.

What on earth was the outlandish thing they saw? What was with that flashlight and why did it train itself on the observers of this surreal scene? Who knows? There have been a few sightings of something similar and equally baffling around the town of Effingham, in the state of Illinois. One case file of the National Cryptid Society is dated as 2010, and concerns a witness only known as “Jade.” The witness was allegedly out one night headed for the supposedly haunted Kasbar cemetery out in the deep woods outside of Effingham along with two friends. When they were out in the countryside, at around 1 AM in the morning, something very curious congealed out of the night, and the witness would say:

I see something with yellow glowing eyes off the side of the country road just past the ditch in the head lights. Too short to be a deer, but too big to be a possum or raccoon. As we get closer it gets clearer, and I realize what I’m looking at is skinny, hairless and grey, human like but definitely not human. Crazy as hell looking…thing. It was crouched down, It’s arms were incredibly long and looked like it could have been 7ft tall or bigger standing. I can feel myself get cold and my heart race and my hair stand on that back of my neck.

Complete shock and terror set in and i can’t make a sound, I’m just staring at it. By that time we are right in front of it, passing it and it just watches us drive by. It slinks into the dark. Then we all just start screaming. Literally freaking the hell out. I was convinced it was a demon for months but still doubted myself even seeing it. Thinking my mind was playing tricks on me. We didn’t even make it to the Kasbar that night, we went straight home. I couldn’t sleep that night.

The witness went on to become convinced that what she had seen was a “ghoul,” or an entity that lurks around feeding on the dead. She would say of this:

They feed on the freshly dead and normally stay close to cemeteries to be close to food. They have been known to show themselves to humans when trying to get close to them to eat in times where fresh deceased bodies are scarce. I went to images of them and could only find illustrations but they look exactly like what i saw that night. Everything i was reading was falling perfectly in place. Lined up perfectly with my experience. I couldn’t explain it away.

Also in the state of Illinois is a case from the town of Rossville, in 2010. The setting was at a cemetery and the time was just after sunset. The witness and a friend were walking down the main lane through the cemetery when something fairly weird scuttled out of the night. The witness would say:

Something came running from the gate and past us on our left. My friend had laughed and asked if I had heard that, and I stopped walking and responded that no, but I had seen it. As the thing had passed between headstones I caught a look. Looked like a pale, emaciated humanoid that was running on all fours. It had no hair at all that I could see, and I did not get a look at the face. It was moving far faster than any person running on hands/feet should have been able to. My friend and I just stayed frozen there and waited for another friend to come and get us because we were too scared to move. It continued to circle us, as we could hear it moving around. It never seemed threatening. If anything it seemed curious/scared of us. But who knows. I do know that it was not a coyote or a stray dog. I never saw the face but I did see the head; it did not have a muzzle. There was no tail, either. It definitely didn’t have fur; it had pale, almost bluish skin and I remember I could make out the ribs from where I was standing. Forgive me if this is a hot mess of a post; I was up all night researching this thing and when I did fall asleep I didn’t sleep well.

Other locations have had sightings as well, such as Ballard County, in Western Kentucky. As the witness was driving along the back roads on a gravel road one night at around 2 AM he says that he caught something in his headlights that startled him to the core. He would say:

I caught sight of something white and vaguely human crawling in the ditch. As we passed I hit the brakes thinking it was a person who needed help. “Are you crazy?! Don’t f***ing stop!” Blake screamed. I looked in the mirror and saw that it was standing up. Even though it was still in the ditch it was as tall as the stop sign next to it. It took a step towards us and I hit the gas. As we drove away I saw in the mirror that it dropped to all fours and was crawling after us. I didn’t start pulling away from it til I got up to about 40 mph. No matter how close I was to it I never got a good look at it. It was fuzzy like it was constantly out of focus. I’m not sure why but something about it makes me think of it as male. Maybe the height? When it crawled it moved like a lizard-hands and feet flat on the ground, elbows and knees up and out, body wiggling side to side. This happened when I was around 22. I’m 40 now and have never seen that thing again. I’ve taken many a midnight cruise along those narrow roads but I’ve never had the nerve to go near that particular farm road again. Call me a chicken…I’ll cluck happily.

Such accounts seem to lie beyond any easy classification. Are we dealing here with some sort of cryptid, ghosts, aliens, inter dimensional interlopers, or what? Or is it all just hoaxes and misinformation? These obviously seem to be far beyond normal reports of cryptids or ghostly phenomena, leaving us to merely ponder just what might be going on. Whatever the answers may be, these truly bizarre entities are not anything anyone would want to encounter slithering down a darkened road at night in the middle of nowhere, stumbling into your headlights.

#humanoids #cryptids #supernatural #paranormal

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tourneyofashvara · 5 years

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Chapter 2 because I have no self control

Chapter two of my rewrite of The Library a paranormal/urban fantasy set in Scotland and featuring monsters, a couple of aliens, and a sentient library which is almost definitely out to murder the main characters, which I’m hoping to open to beta readers again soon.

Read Chapter One

23:25

The Librarian sat behind the reception desk on the ground floor, staring apathetically at two lists on the green interface of her computer: the day’s new titles, and those to be signed off as complete. She checked for typos, and changes, and any notes left from her in the mainframe, which were becoming fewer these days, while thinking about going to bed or getting back to one of the books upstairs that wasn’t filled with highly classified information.

In front of her the Hands continued typing, the click of the seventeen keyboards of that particular shift rattled through the air, as they filled out forms for shelving, sorting titles and adding the additional information they gleamed from the digital copy of the books as they were updated, and giving a final once over for a few common typos before the books were sent to printing as complete or to be continued. The constant clack of the day’s soundtrack only had a two minute lull each day at the change of shifts; the noise used to give her a migraine, but now only grated her teeth.

35 minutes until the Nightshift change. 35 minutes and 42 seconds until she was free for twelve hours.

She tried to not often look up from her desk, but it could not always be helped. The occasional snort of slightly-too-loud laughter usually drew her attention, or the moment of panic when a computer froze, or the twenty odd times an hour she not-so-subtlety checked the clock. They were still stuck using computers from the early 2000s, hulking grey blocks with their glaring juxtaposition to the rows of old-style hardback books circling the room, the long oak tables, worn tartan curtains, and the dim, dust-magnetising chandeliers casting a faint warm glow over everything.

She glanced up through the balconies of the overhanging floors, a faint crease in her brow at the silence that hung over them. Normally the quiet murmur of those working in shelving accompanied the clack of keys in a semi-constant drone. A message pinged on her screen, and she turned back to it.

Code 35 Activated: Outside Assistance Requested.

She clicked on it, reading through the longer transcript of the error message, and swore quietly as she reached who signed off the request: her.

The radio on her desk clicked on. “Ma’am, there’s something you need to know,” Lori’s voice crackled over it, the distinct clunking of the lift rattling in the background.

A few glances turned to her.

She leant across the desk and pressed the reply button. “I’m aware of the situation, Lori,” she replied, forcing her voice to remain calm as a few Hands flicked their attention to her. “Get the floor sealed off. I’ve called for outside help while we find those responsible.” She sounded resolute, as if it was her command. Her panic did not show in her voice, even as her mind twisted over the implications.

Someone had signed under her name, without her notice. Someone with more power than she had, and someone the Library listened to.

Which either meant Norway or the—

“Oh—okay. I’ll get on it,” Lori’s reply came through, and the radio clicked off.

She realised most of the Hands were staring at her, and straightened, watching their apprehensive expressions. Tell them, and risk panic, or don’t tell them, and risk a mutiny over a supposed cover-up. It would come out, eventually, that she signed the order. Even if she hadn’t. “There has been an incident on the third floor. One of the Hands is dead.”

A quiet ripple went through them.

“We’re working to capture the person responsible and will have them brought to justice.”

“Who is it?” The ground-floor Brownie asked, staring at her as they held open the back of one of the unused computers with one hand and tugged the t-shirt they wore further over their gnarled knees. The human worker beside them reached across to place a hand on their tiny shoulder, and they clung to it, their tiny fingers wrapped tightly around the two of her fingers they could reach.

“We’re working on identification.”

“Are we in danger too?” the human Hand asked.

A panicked ripple went through the Hands around them.

“I don’t know,” she rose to her feet, glancing at the message she had supposedly sent, trying to ignore the fear scratching at her throat. “I will keep you all updated, I promise. Just, stay together, keep working. I need to call in the Hands working upstairs.” Twelve. Twelve possible suspects from that shift, or twelve possible victims.

“You can’t call them here,” another Hand said, a Ljósálfar—a tall, spindly creature with bony fingers, over-sized ears, and a bright glow usually tinged their skin, but, now, in their fear, that glow was dimmed, and their voice almost desperate. “If it was one of them, what is to stop them from turning on us? If we fall, the system will shut down. It will—”

A panicked murmur went through the Hands.

“Enough,” she told them. “There is no need to panic. I will make sure they are called together upstairs.”

A disgruntled whisper rippled through them all the same.

“We have no reason not to believe this was just a tragic accident.” Other than the fact something was putting out orders under her name.

“Then you know who it is?”

“No.”

The Hands looked at one another, shifting uncomfortably as a clock somewhere chimed half-eleven.

“Please, let’s remain calm. The system does not like panic. Or missed deadlines.”

Weak laughter echoed through them, and the clack of keyboard keys filled the air once more as she turned and walked towards the lifts. She tugged absently at her gloves as she approached. She would have to treat it carefully, if it was on edge for a reason she shouldn’t cause it further aggravation, and stopped clear of the wall as she waited for the lift to clatter its way downwards. Obviously it had decided not to take a direct route to the ground floor. Not when it would easily suck her back in. A few specks of dust fell from the ceiling as the lift rattled towards her, and Lori and the Caretaker stepped out.

“I… should seal off the floor,” Lori said, heading for the main atrium as the Caretaker stopped in front of the Librarian, watching her quietly for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“Who is it?” she asked softly.

“Of-the-mountains-north-of-Athens.”

She paused, and frowned at him. “A Galatean? How?”

“Something broke their neck.”

“Perhaps they fell,” she shook her head, “searching for a book on a higher shelf.” Accidents had happened before, even with her repeated warnings.

Something tugged at the corner of his mouth, and he made a small noise. “More of their body would have shattered, and there would have been a ladder, or a fallen shelf…” he paused. “And we would have heard them.”

“Then what killed them?”

“Something in here,” he replied softly. “Perhaps one of Lilith’s—”

“—If it was one of hers, she should have claimed it by now.”

He looked over her shoulder at the Hands. They could have been killed hours ago, which meant everyone was a suspect. And why? What reason was there to kill a Galatean? Unless they had stumbled on something someone else was working on inside the Library. Perhaps it wasn’t just a murderer they had to look out for.

“What happens now?” he asked without turning back to her, watching Lori field the questions from the Hands.

“The Library called for outside help.”

His eyes shot back to her and a line appeared in his brow.

“I know. It signed it under my name.”

“Is it trying to replace us?”

“I don’t know.” She reached up and scratched at her hair, glancing at the Hands and the familiar clack of keyboards. “Maybe.” She turned back to him, “I think if it is, then it’s going to start moving faster. If I disappear, you get everyone else out.”

“We can’t leave.”

“If I get… taken back, shall we say, then the Library will go into shut-down for twenty minutes. That’s twenty minutes to get everyone out.”

“That’s twenty minutes without the life-support.”

“There’s a lot of air in here.”

“You know what I mean.” He took a step closer to her and shook his head, “I got into this mess in 1776, chances are, when it goes off, we all die.”

“Lori—”

“—You know what happened in ‘08.”

“I know we all woke with one hell of a headache. I know you and most of the others just fucking appeared, and we carried on as usual.” She stopped and shook her head. “This isn’t safe to talk about. It warned me against asking questions.” She paused. “We’re dead anyway, surely you would rather die free?”

He laughed quietly, “There’s no such thing as freedom in this world, not so long as these—”

“—Careful,” she told him softly. “It does not like to be insulted.”

“I imagine thinking of an escape counts as insult enough.”

“Outside help will arrive soon, I promise,” she replied, heading back towards the main atrium. Sighing, she stopped, and turned back to him in the archway of shelves. “We either die in time for it to clean us out for its new arrivals or…” she paused, catching a light flash from the back door. “That’s odd,” she said, frowning at it, and the Caretaker followed her gaze.

On the panel beside the back door a blue LED was flashing repeatedly. She crossing to it, glancing up at the ruined staircase above her. she could vaguely remember it being fixed, but not why it broke. She shook her head and stopped in front of the panel, and its blank screen, the buttons underneath worn to the point the numbers were almost unreadable.

She picked at a piece of the peeling, duck egg paint around the panel and the light stopped flashing.

“A glitch?” the Caretaker asked.

She made a small noise and pressed the button under the turned-off light for the video footage that accompanied it. It was a moment, but the image flickered on. But the courtyard was empty.

“Probably a cat,” the Caretaker said. “I’ll reset it—”

He made to move past her but she flung her arm out to stop him, still frowning at the monitor. “Look at that,” she said, and pointed at an empty can as it skittered into frame, then disappeared, then skittered back in. She watched it a couple of times. The exact same movement. The same handful of leaves accompanying it. “The video is looped.”

He muttered a vague noise.

“Nothing can come in, correct?”

“Not without the code. Or unless they’re let in.” He let out a nervous laugh, his brow knitted.

“Walk with me,” she said, turning, and strode back in the direction of her desk. He followed, moment behind her long strides.

The curious glances of a few Hands skirted over them, but she ignored them, and the chorus of typing as she sat at her desk, nudging the computer screen back on with the mouse.

“Third floor is sealed off,” Lori told her from where she stood over a desk opposite them, nestled among three walls of books. She glanced over her shoulder, almost tucking her hands in her trouser pockets but reconsidering at the last moment. “Anything else?”

“Call in the Hands from shelving, the other half of Nightshift and both Dayshifts, have them meet me in the old entrance.”

Lori nodded, “Of course.” She turned back to the desk, and the Librarian watched her quickly type something, unsure she really wanted to know what was waiting outside. If they found out it was responsible, and when that outside help came, would they accidentally let it in? She supposed she could ensure they came through the front door, and try to block off the back. But if they had hacked the system from the outside it probably wouldn’t matter what she did, they would get in anyway. The Librarian glanced at the Caretaker, although his reticent expression belonged on the silent Hands as they kept typing, and pulled up the video feed from the security cameras overlooking the back wall.

Lori clicked a few buttons on the screen, which wobbled violently, before walking to the archway of books in front of the back wall. “Can all Hands in shelving and Dayshift please report to room 004,” her voice echoed, slightly distorted, over the loudspeakers strung hidden in the darkness above the shelves. “All Hands in shelving and dayshift please report to room 004.”

The speakers shut off as the Librarian frowned at the video footage. The courtyard was empty: the same loop played over the images, just from a different angle. She swore quietly. Whatever was out there, either it had hacked the system, or the system itself did not want her to know what it was.

She glanced back at the closed doors through the rows of shelves. The dust encrusted lamp above the door flickered, and went out.

“A glitch?” the Caretaker repeated quietly.

She turned back to the screens, the image flickered, but the loop continued onwards. “No,” she said. “No, something is still out there.” She glanced up at the ruined staircase, “Are there any windows overlooking it?”

He paused, his face wrinkling as he thought about it. “No. Just the one right where the stairs cave in.” The lifts rattled to life as the noise of movement filled the floors above. They both flinched and stared at the lifts.

“It’s been quiet today,” the Caretaker said.

“It’s always quieter at night.”

He offered a wry laugh. “Not like this.”

“No,” she agreed, nodding slightly. “Keep an eye on the Hands here, if there is any sign—”

“—I know what to do.”

Ko-fi | I’m going to be creating a taglist for my WIPs so let me know if you want to be added to it!

#writing #writeblr #original fiction #original writing #amwriting #amediting #writblr #science fiction #fantasy #urban fantasy #paranormal fantasy #i suppose it could also could as a thriller fantasy #prose #fiction #excerpt #writing excerpt #wip excerpt #thelibrary

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dionysus-is-my-dude · 6 years

Text

A horror movie enthusiast’s thoughts on Halloween (2018)...

***warning: possible spoilers ahead (Also this is gonna be long)***

I was introduced to the horror genre at a very young age. Around five or so, if I remember correctly. I remember that I was at my dad’s friend’s house, and someone had put on “Jeepers Creepers”, the original one. I remember being absolutely terrified by the monster/demon/thing. But also terribly fascinated by a movie that 1. wasn’t an animated princess movie, and 2. depicted such graphic violence and scary images. The next day, my cousin and I were playing with walkie talkies and she kept scaring me by singing the Jeepers Creepers song. It scared me because I thought that, by singing the song, the monster would show up and eat us.

As a child, I had access to the library in my school, and nearly every single time we were sent to pick a book, I picked an edition of “Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark”. The images scared me. The stories scared me. But I couldn’t stop reading everything, delighting in it in some twisted way.

The next horror film I watched was when I was around ten or so? It was the American version of “The Ring”. And instead of scaring me to the point of crying, I was incredibly fascinated by how it made me feel. Afraid, but in a way that felt exhilarating and FUN. My mom let me watch “Alien” and “Aliens” with her, which, though not classified as horror films, gave me the same rush.

From that point on, I was hooked. We’d go to the movie rental store and I’d rent scary movies that were popular at the time. I’d always search for scary TV shows to watch, like ghost hunting shows and other scary things. I became obsessed with the paranormal, playing with Ouija boards and doing hours and hours of research.

After a terrifying REAL experience with ghosts in which I was actually scared for my life, I took a long break from watching scary films. But that sure didn’t keep me away from them once I’d calmed down. Every horror film that was coming out, I was going to see. Every horror film on Netflix, I was watching. Ghost Adventures on TV? You bet I was watching it. Literally ANYTHING Tim Burton related? Yep, I’m on it. I was reading scary stories. I was doing research on horror films themselves and why people like me like them. I had nightmares and sleep paralysis and be extremely paranoid. But I couldn’t stop.

I started to learn the tricks and ins-and-outs that made horror movies, in my opinion, good. I learned that I dislike excessive jumpscares, and I avoid movies that seem like that’s all they’ll be -like several modern-day horror films like the recent “Insidious” entries and such. I realized that, as a music enthusiast as well, the music was what set the tone for me. If I thought the music -or lack thereof done properly- was great at causing suspense, I was feeling more scared. I learned that tension was more fun than jumpscares. Modern movies I love include the first two “Insidious” movies, “The Conjuring” series, and “Mama”. What I love about those films is not only the great background music, but the story and the lack of useless jumpscares. The imagery and focus of the shots are incredibly fun to watch, seeing things move in the background without the characters noticing, all that fun stuff.

But, with all the scary movies that come out nowadays, I’ve sorta lost my love for them. Nothing has really given me a good, fun scare in a long time. (”Annabelle: Creation” doesn’t count; that movie was both jumpscare heavy and openly too terrifying for me.) When I heard they were doing yet another “Halloween” sequel, I was prepared to have some good fun with my favourite classic slasher film.

I watched the original “Halloween” around twelve or so. I thought it was a good, campy slasher. My mom saw it when she was really little and has been scared of it ever since. Every year around Halloween-time, I scare her by playing the music around her or sending her pics of Michael Meyers that I find in costume shops. To me, it wasn’t scary. I had a ball watching it, not getting the real scares from it, but just having a good time watching the utterly silent Michael Meyers walk around just killing horny teenagers. Classic. I remember watching a marathon of the movies and barely remembering them because they weren’t as good or as fun as the first one. I’d resigned myself to “Halloween” being just a classic favourite of mine, nothing more.

Tonight, I saw the 2018 sequel, which takes place forty years after the events of the original movie....and I’m just...in shock. I went into the theater thinking I’d just crack jokes with my dad and cheer Michael on.

I left the theater with my heart pounding, my legs shaking, and a huge smile on my face. I knew I’d come home and be paranoid walking from my car to the backdoor. I know I’ll probably be paranoid for several weeks and see Michael everywhere.

I sat through that movie either bouncing my legs in my normal ADHD way and making commentary with my dad, or curled up in silent, paralyzed anxiety. This movie, for all the hype it got, was, in my opinion, horror gold. Story-wise, it was fantastic, of course. A wonderful sequel to the original, with homages galore and many tracks from the original score which brought back a lot of memories.

But from someone who had nearly given up on modern-day horror movies, this one gave me hope. Each shot was scary, the jumpscares wonderfully played out with not a lot of fake-outs, the music -the MUSIC- played just like in the original (which I thought at first would make this cheesy, but it was only scarier), and the tension tension tension was palpable. The entire movie was full of it. Every single scene with Michael in it was filled with silence and shaking heads from us in the audience, each of us helpless as he killed yet again.

I was unable to make jokes during this movie. I was too busy holding my breath and gasping in shock. I was too busy bouncing my leg, then pulling them both up and holding myself. The last twenty minutes or so, I was just...staring at the screen, my heart pounding. I had never felt so hushed in a theater while watching a horror film in my whole life. It felt like I was being held on a string with scissors dangerously close every time the music stopped. I was no longer playfully cheering Michael Meyers on, “Yasssss, honey, kill those stupid teens, yassss”. I was genuinely SCARED of him. I’d lived my whole life never once scared of Michael Meyers. I pranked my mom every single year with him. Even when her husband, who’s a big guy, ran around the house with the mask on, I was laughing more than anything. But I am now actually terrified of this deranged, masked killer. I understand how scared my mom was when she was little. I understand her fear after all these years. I actually ran from my car to my door, looking out into my pitch black backyard, actually afraid that I would see the dirty white of the mask before I inevitably was killed.

I can’t stop thinking about each scene where he killed someone. Each scene where he appeared out of nowhere, completely silent and merciless as he killed and killed and killed. The ending (SPOILER), I thought would satisfy me. After all these years, was Michael Meyers FINALLY dead? At long last, was the nightmare over? It...It’s hard to tell. We never actually saw his body being burned up. We just had to assume he died in the fire. I don’t know if that was deliberate to keep us guessing -which is genius-, but it was terrifying nonetheless.

Did I enjoy myself? Absolutely. It was a wonderful homage to my favourite classic slasher. It had all the classic Michael Meyers traits, like the eerie way he sits up when knocked down, the head tilt, his love of stabbing people and hanging them from things. Hearing the classic music was wonderful. The story was perfect and made sense. The twist -if you can call it that- was a little predictable but quickly resolved. The continuous shots, especially the ones in complete silence, were absolutely incredible to watch. As soon as the credits started, I felt like I’d just gone through a life-changing experience.

What is it about “Halloween” and Michael Meyers that brings a smile to my face? Is it the fact that he never once -not even once in over ten films that’ve been made- utters a single word? Barely even makes a sound unless he’s been, like, hurt or something. His superhuman strength, able to take on every single victim he goes through? His odd fascination with his kills -the head tilt as he looks at his victims? Why is the music so scary, even though it seems like cheesy 70s synth? I’m just...so confused and amazed that this franchise has been going off and on for over forty years and it’s THIS movie that actually scares me. Maybe because it takes place in modern day, instead of years and years ago?

Whatever the reason, I hope horror filmmakers take note. THIS is how you make a good, memorable scary movie. Don’t use jumpscares as a crutch. Jumpscares are the laziest way to scare people. If people wanted jumpscares, they could go to a haunted house. But this movie did horror so WELL. The tension was fantastic. The music was great. The shots were done beautifully. The actors were all incredible. I just love every bit of this movie and wish I could just rewatch it for the first time over and over and over. If more horror movies were done like this, I would pay more money to see them in theaters.

Ok, mega post over. I just loved the movie so so much and I wanted to share my too-big feelings before I attempt to go to sleep and make myself understand that Michael isn’t in my closet.

#personal #horror movies #halloween #halloween 2018 #michael meyers #i have a lot of feelings

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mldrgrl · 6 years

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In Another Life 7/7

by: mldrgrl Rating: PG-13 (at the most) Summary: See Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

On Monday, Mulder went to work with a bucket of cleaning supplies and starting clearing and somewhat organizing the files in the basement. The storage room was actually fairly large, and once he’d sorted some things out, moved boxes, and got rid of a lot of excess junk, he had a lot of room to work with. It took nearly all week, and by the time he was finished, it had started to dawn on him that instead of bringing the files upstairs, he might as well just move his office where the files were.

He got approval from AD Skinner, who looked at him like he was crazy, but still signed off on his requisition for a desk. The deliverymen thought it had been a mistake and called him several times to confirm the desk was being brought to the basement? Are you sure?

After he was settled, he was actually pleased with the space. Sure, it was a basement, but he had a nice skylight and two rooms. He’d found a few boxes of old equipment which still worked and though someone else found useless, he set it up in the secondary room that had once gated off whatever someone felt was important enough to gate off in storage. He now had his own slide projector, lightboard, and a large magnifier that clamped onto a table.

What took him the most time, and would continue to take weeks or months, was classifying and cataloging the x-files into something that might be easily referenced. He’d started out with general categories, but the more he found, the more he’d had to break those into smaller subgenres. It wasn’t enough to label a pile PARANORMAL, he had to then separate sets of files into HAUNTINGS, POLTERGEISTS, ECTOPLASM, and PSYCHICS.

The missing persons stack is the one that really bothered him. There were hundreds of accounts of people just vanishing off the face of the earth. At least a dozen of these files, eye witnesses reported seeing strange lights in the sky the night someone vanished. He separated those files into a group he tentatively labeled ALIEN ABDUCTION.

Even though he poured all of his energy into the x-files, every night Mulder went home, he played Scully’s message on his answering machine until he had it memorized. Sometimes he would pick up his phone and dial part of her number before hanging up.

******

Mulder’s in depth review of his alien abduction and UFO sightings files turned out to be extremely valuable in the first two cases he was assigned as x-files. The first was investigating reports from a space program employee on possible sabotage of recent launches. What he found was an astronaut haunted by his previous missions and his belief that an alien entity had possessed him. The sabotage was his way of protecting other astronauts from suffering the same fate. Mulder suspected PTSD and ordered him into immediate psychiatric care.

“You believe him?” Skinner asked, when he filed his report.

“It doesn’t matter whether I believe him,” Mulder answered. “It matters that he believes.”

And that was his philosophy going into his next case. A man claiming to be a multiple abductee was arrested sneaking into a crash site of a military test flight. Everything Mulder had read about in his files encompassed this one man, Max Fenig. He was so thorough in his story that he almost had Mulder convinced it was true. When Mulder started a deep dive into Fenig’s life, trying to corroborate his account of events, the jittery guy vanished without a trace. Only this time, it was Mulder who could attest to seeing strange lights in the sky the night Max Fenig disappeared.

“Is this really how you want to spend your time?” Skinner asked. “Chasing lights in the sky?”

“Sometimes it’s the journey that’s the reward,” Mulder answered.

“Holly has your new file. No little green men in it, I’m afraid.”

“Grey.”

“Hm?”

“You said green. A Reticulan’s skin tone is actually grey. Allegedly due to iron depletion in the Reticulan Galaxy.”

Skinner’s eyes twitched behind his glasses and he started at Mulder. Mulder gave him a slight smile.

“Makes you wonder what liver and onions goes for on Reticula, doesn’t it, Sir?” Mulder asked.

“Go get your file, Agent Mulder.”

******

Mulder gets two more cases in before everything shuts down for Christmas and New Years. Both cases bring him back to Quantico, where the halls feel empty to him without Scully there. He knocks on her door, ‘shave and a haircut,’ but no one answers. It’s not like he expected to find her there, but his heart still pounded with a nervous, quick-flutter of anticipation.

One of the cases, in addition to forcing him to deal with a childhood fear of fire, also put him in contact with a classmate from Oxford. He hadn’t known Inspector Phoebe Green very well in school, mostly because she was a year ahead of him and they didn’t travel in the same social circles, but universities are like small worlds, and he certainly knew of her. She apparently knew of him as well and asked for his assistance on a matter in Boston, where she was acting as security for a British ambassador.

Inspector Green made no secret of the fact she was interested in Mulder, and let him know she’d had a crush on him in school. They attempted a date, which consisted of an awkward dinner at his hotel that was interrupted by a fire alarm, and when it turned out she happened to be sleeping with her married boss, amongst a variety of other men, it was just as well that Mulder was too preoccupied with daydreams of Scully to care very much.

On Christmas Eve, Mulder headed to The Headless Woman for a drink before heading home. The place was packed, something of an agent hangout, and by the looks of it, they all had the same idea. He tossed one back with a guy he used to work with in VCU and they played a game of catch up. He showed Mulder a picture of his daughter, told him his wife was expecting next month, which reminded him that he needed to call Samantha.

After parting ways with his old friend, Mulder took a seat at the bar to finish his beer and order one more. He caught AD Skinner’s eye when he sat down, and his boss nodded and then approached, taking the seat next to Mulder.

“Sir,” Mulder said. “Happy holidays.”

“You as well, Agent.”

“Can I buy you one?”

“It’s on me, actually.” Skinner flashed two fingers at the bartender.

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad I caught you in here, actually. I just spoke to the British Ambassador regarding your arsonist case.”

“Did the Marsden’s get back to England alright?”

“As far as I know. They’re requesting we extradite L’Ively to stand trial in England.”

“We’d only have him for attempted murder here. They can pin six murders on him back in jolly old England.”

“Attempted murder of a federal agent.”

“The burns are minor.” Mulder shrugged and took a sip of his fresh beer.

“According to Inspector Green, you ran into a burning house.”

“There were kids upstairs.”

“You need to think about getting a partner, Agent Mulder.”

“There’s only one person that qualifies, Sir, and she’s unavailable.”

“You’re referring to Agent Scully, I take it?”

“I am.”

“I see.”

“And in the interim? Should I let you get yourself killed?”

“Like I said, the burns are minor.”

“Luck runs out eventually. You need someone to watch your back.”

“I know. But, I happen to think she’s worth waiting for.”

“If you don’t get yourself killed in the meantime. Do you even know if she would want to take this on? She’s a pathologist, not a field agent.”

“Something tells me she would.”

Skinner sighed and downed a generous swig of his beer. He pushed off the barstool and opened his wallet, taking out a few bills and tossing them onto the bartop. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he put his wallet away and rested his hand on Mulder’s shoulder for a moment.

“I need to get home to my wife,” he said. “Enjoy the holidays.”

“I didn’t know you were married.”

“20 years.”

“Happy holidays to you and your wife.”

“See you in the new year, Agent.”

******

Mulder’s favorite piece of equipment, by far, was his slide projector. He liked standing in front of magnified images in the half-dark, focusing on details might normally be lost to the naked eye. It helped him put information together and visual a crime scene better. And it was just fun to click through each image. He even enjoyed the click and shuffle sound the projector made when he changed slides.

It was just after New Years and he was sorting his slides on his lightboard, numbering and marking them to drop into the carrel. There was a knock on his door, which was unusual. Someone must be lost, he thought.

“Nobody down here but the FBI’s most unwanted,” he called, without even looking up from his slides.

He was sure whoever it was on the other side would go away, but the door opened, and he heard the tap of high heels approach. He looked up and felt his cheeks burn with the pull of a suppressed grin.

“You lost?” he asked.

“No,” Scully answered. “I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“Who did you tick off to get stuck with this detail, Scully?”

“Actually, I’m looking forward to it.”

“Well, isn’t it nice to suddenly be so highly regarded.”

“I’ve always regarded you highly, Agent Mulder.”

“Likewise, Scully.” He didn’t stop the smile from spreading this time.

A moment passed where they gazed at one another in silence and then Scully turned her head slightly to inspect the room. She walked it slowly, touching his equipment with her fingertips, leaning closer to get a better look at the photos he’d tacked to a corkboard. She looked up at the skylight and then turned back around to face him.

“Well, I’d say you moved up in the world,” she said. “But, that’s not really the case.”

“It’s still the nicest office I’ve ever had.”

“It’s a little small.”

“Well, don’t worry, I’m sure we can squeeze another desk down here, maybe put them face to face and we can play a nice game of Battleship.”

Scully chuckled. She looked past his shoulder at the poster behind his desk and moved closer to it. It was of a blurry UFO in flight with the words I WANT TO BELIEVE underneath.

“That’s interesting,” she said.

“I found it in a head shop on Avenue M,” he answered. “Seemed appropriate for the new digs.”

“I like it.”

He had a million questions for her. How was she? What had she been doing the past two months? Did she really want this job? Was she still with Daniel? Did everyone eat the pumpkin pie after he’d stormed out? She turned away from him like she knew what he was thinking and inspected the second cork board next to his poster.

“You know,” he said. “I was told I’d have final say on who they assigned down here.”

“Would you like to see my resume?” she murmured, fingering the corner of the Jersey devil tacked to the lower left side of the board.

“How about a test?”

“I was always pretty good at pop quizzes.”

“I bet you were,” he answered, loading the carrel on top of the projector. “Could you kill the lights?”

Scully crossed in front of the light of the projector, creating a silhouette of herself on the screen. When the room was dark, Mulder dropped the first slide. It was a photo of a young girl. He clicked his remote to move to the next slide, a photo of a young man.

“Elizabeth Hawley and James Summers,” he said. “Both 19. Two days ago, they were reported missing from Jackson University. One year ago, another couple went missing from Duke University. One week later, they found the bodies of both students.”

As he spoke, he shuffled through a few more slides from the Duke University murders. Photos of the bodies, the crime scene, a newspaper headline.

“The Duke kids were kept alive,” he continued. “Tortured throughout their seven day ordeal, before they were killed.”

“You think we’re looking for a serial killer or a copycat?” she asked.

“No arrests were ever made. Police believed it to be a one-time offender at the time. It now appears it may be a serial.”

“If he holds true to form, that only gives us five days to find these students.”

“Pretty grim deadline.”

“I’ll say.”

“Well, here’s another grim deadline.” Mulder handed Scully a file before he clicked to another photo of a death row inmate. “In one week, Luther Lee Boggs will take a seat in the North Carolina gas chamber.”

Scully looked up briefly at the slide and then perused the file in her hand in the light from the projector. Her head was bent over and the spotlight caught her cheek in a way that made her look ethereal. Mulder swallowed, losing his train of thought.

“How is he related?” Scully finally asked, lifting her head.

“Uh, he claims to have information relating to the kidnapping,” Mulder said, touching his wrist. “He described Hawley's bracelet down to the last detail, information that only family members could have known.”

“I don’t understand. Is he the killer?”

“Not likely. He’s been in prison for the last seven years. My profile actually put him there.”

“Maybe he’s orchestrating the killings from the inside.”

“He claims to have obtained this information through psychic transmission.”

“Psychic transmission?” Scully closed the file in her hands and crossed her arms. She raised her brows at Mulder in the habit he’d grown accustomed to.

“Do I detect a hint of skepticism?”

“No, I can’t imagine why you’d think that.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe it either.”

“Really?”

Mulder shrugged. “Boggs has been in the chamber before. He was actually strapped to the chair before receiving an executive stay. He claims that this experience activated in him the ability to channel spirits and demons.”

“That’s what you don’t believe.”

“There are scores of x-files on psychic ability. I have to believe there’s some truth there, even if it can’t be proved. But, not in this case. Not Boggs.”

“And I take it you’ve read all those files.”

“I did.” Mulder waved his hand towards the filing cabinets in the shadows behind him. “They’re all there, in alphabetical order if you want to take a look.”

“That might prove helpful. So, if you believe in the phenomenon, why not Boggs?”

Mulder raised his finger and brushed past Scully to turn the lights back on. He took the file she’d closed from under her arm and flipped the pages until he found the one he wanted. He folded the page back and gave the file back to Scully.

“At the age of six, Luther Boggs slaughtered every pet animal in his housing project,” she read out loud. “When he was 30, he strangled five family members over Thanksgiving dinner and then sat down to watch the fourth quarter of the Detroit-Green Bay game. Some killers are projects of society. Some act out past abuses. Boggs kills because he likes it. This is from your profile?”

“It is. Boggs has read it and he believes I'm the only one who truly understands what he is. Anyway, I leave for Raleigh this afternoon. But...”

“But?”

“I only put in a travel req for one ticket. We’ll have to grab another TRA.”

“Do I have the job then?”

“You have the job.”

Scully smiled a little and looked down at her feet for a moment. “I should tell you, so you’re aware, I left Daniel. I’ve filed for divorce.”

Mulder opened his mouth, but hesitated to say anything. He was glad, but he couldn’t tell her that. “I’m sorry, Scully.”

“I’m not.” She looked up at him and gave a swift shake of her head. “It needed to be done.”

“Still though.”

She stared up at him with a passive smile. Her eyes held his and he found it impossible to look away. The air between them felt thick. He wished the lights were still off so he could see her in the glow of the projector again. He wondered if her cheek was as soft as it looked and he reached up to touch it.

“I am sorry,” he said, softly.

“And I’m not,” she said again, reaching up to put her hand over Mulder’s.

“I told myself it would be enough to just see you again, to work with you, and nothing more.”

“You tend to believe some pretty fantastic things.”

“This is probably the only time I’ll ever say this, but I hope you prove me wrong.”

“I think I’ll make proving you wrong a part of my job description.”

“I don’t want to be a rebound for you, Scully. So, whatever time you need, whatever space-”

“If you need time and space, Mulder, that’s alright with me, but I don’t. I didn’t leave Daniel for you, I left him for me. You were right. It’s something that I needed to do. And what I want now is to be with someone who likes who I am.”

“Oh, I definitely like who you are. A lot. A lot, a lot, a lot.”

She smiled and pressed her cheek a little more firmly into his hand. He pressed his lips together and swallowed. He wanted to kiss her, but she had a way of throwing his confidence off-kilter. It probably wasn’t the time or place, either. They were at work, they had a case to solve. They had to be able to focus and if his lips were introduced to hers, he knew he wouldn’t be able to think.

“I guess we better get to the airport,” he said.

“I guess so.”

He nodded and started to pull his hand away.

“There is just one more thing though,” she said, reaching up to curl her hand over the back of his neck. She pulled his head down and tipped her face up to press her lips to his. Their mouths moved open to each other at the same time, no coaxing or hesitation. Both her arms went around his neck and his around her back. She had to arch and he had to bend so that their bodies pressed flush against each other.

For however long it lasted, too long and not long enough, Mulder felt the whimper she gave vibrate from her chest to his. It made him gasp and their mouths broke apart, but they stayed locked together, her forehead pressed to his cheek and her breath on his jaw.

“Sorry if that was unprofessional,” she breathed. “But, I had to.”

“I won’t be filing a complaint with HR any time soon.”

They both took a few more moments to breathe and then relaxed their holds on each other in increments. Scully finally stepped back and immediately he felt the loss of her. She ran her finger along the bottom of her lip where her lipstick had smudged, which he knew she’d have to fix before they left, but he also kind of didn’t want her to. And then she was reaching up and rubbing her thumb against the corner of his mouth and he couldn’t keep the stupid grin off his face.

“Do you think Blevins had this in mind when he assigned you down here?” he asked.

“Blevins didn’t assign me, AD Skinner did.”

“Skinner?”

“He called me yesterday. Asked me to meet with him when I returned from my leave.”

“If you need more time.”

“I do not need more time. I had to get some things sorted out, but I am back where I want to be.”

“It isn’t pathology.”

“My place is here with you now. On the x-files. Where I choose to be.”

“Raleigh, then?”

“After you.”

“Got your Dramamine?”

“I think I’ll be okay.”

“I should call the airline. Ask them if they can book us seats together.”

“If they can’t, I’ll just ask the person in the middle to switch. I’ll tell them I need to sit with my partner.”

“Wait.” Mulder stopped just before they went through the door and went back to his filing cabinet. He searched for a file labeled DC-X-167512 - VISIONARY ENCOUNTERS WITH THE DEAD and took it out, along with a few files behind it. He gave them to Scully. “Some light reading for the plane.”

“This is going to be a hell of an adventure.”

“Sometimes the journey is the reward, so some wise woman once said.”

“Sounds like you know a lot of wise women.”

“I guess I’m just pretty damn lucky in this life.”

“Come on, Mulder. Take me to Raleigh.”

The End

#i wrote this #xf fanfic #au #season 1 #msr #slow burn #thanks for sticking with me

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halfhumanscribe · 6 years

Text

Novel Corp. - Orientation (2/3)

SYNOPSIS: Some people will do anything to get a job and keep. Sometimes it means doing things you don’t want to, sometimes its being part of something that doesn’t make any sense. RATING: M - MATURE (Language, Violence, Horror Elements) ORIGINAL PUBLISHING YEAR: 2012

WORD COUNT: 3546

Part 1 - Click Here Part 3 - Click Here

Novel Corp. - Prelude by Inganno Orientation (2/3)

He groaned slightly as the darkness began to dissipate from all around him. The first thing he noticed as the light slowly flooded back onto him, was the strange stomach ache that was gnawing at his insides. It must have been something he had eaten that morning. Next time he wouldn’t indulge himself so much on his mother’s homemade cinnamon rolls. Too much sugar on those things. It was no wonder he was about to go over the 190lbs mark. Perhaps it’s back to eating salad and and greens for him, though they weren’t quite as tasty.

“Wait a second,” he thought to himself, “wasn’t I just in a job interview… didn’t he…?”

His eyes shot open, trying to figure out what had happened. His pupils did their best to try and adapt to the bright environment around him, but he was only gifted with an irritation as the brightness shined down all around him.

“What’s going on!?” he screamed. “Where am I?” Reinhold looked left, right, and all around him. The events from earlier were beginning to come back to him. “Oh Jesus, he shot me! Am I dead?”

“Yes, Mr. Eckhart,” answered a deep feminine voice beside him. “Heaven is actually an old abandoned Chinese takeout restaurant. Didn’t you know?”

His eyes switched to a middle aged Asian woman in the chair next to him. She wore a blood stained butcher’s apron, and was quietly enjoying a cigarette.

“I hope you don’t mind if I smoke,” she said to Reinhold with a slight accent. “It’s a filthy habit I know, but as long as Donald keeps it up, I just can’t control myself. Do you smoke?”

Reinhold looked at her with confusion, and slowly shook his head.

“You should,” the woman replied back to him, “it’ll get you to try new things, and the tobacco in these things are just to die for. Definitely not for everyone, but they certainly help to unwind. Shame about the nicotine in the paper ones – it’s why I switched over to electronic. There’s a lot less hassle with them, and it helps me with quitting too.” She let out a stream of smoke, and watched it disappear into the air. “I guess cigarettes aren’t as exciting for you though. Especially with the trace amounts of lysergic acid diethylamide I found in your system.”

Reinhold still held confusion on his face as he listened to the woman drone. What on Earth was she even talking about?

She noticed the bewilderment he had, and grinned. “Lysergic acid diethylamide: Acid. The recreational kind.”

“How did you…?” Reinhold began to ask as he sat up.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she said standing from her chair in slight concern.

Reinhold cocked his head and quickly asked, “why?” When he looked down at himself, he found himself naked, with his body covered in blood. The first shock sent a chill down his spine and his heart into a tizzy. But it wasn’t until he saw noticed that his chest cavity was open to the outside air and that he could actually see his heart beating in front of him that the second shock hit in – and it was a doozy.

“FUCK!” he screamed as loud as he could. He tried to pick himself up, but the woman grabbed him by the shoulders and forced him back down onto the counter he was laying on top of. “FUCK FUCK FUCK!” he continued to scream. “I CAN SEE MY OWN HEART BEATING!”

“Surreal, isn’t it?” the woman spat through her teeth, using all her strength to hold Reinhold down onto the counter. “Now shut up, and quit moving or you’re going to end up killing yourself.” He didn’t listen and continued to squirm beneath her grasp. She groaned and murmured: “I was hoping we’d be done by the time you woke up, but I guess your a curious cookie, aren’t ya?”

“LET ME GO!” Reinhold screamed. “FUCKING LET ME GO!”

“If I do that,” she began to explain, “you’ll get up and run away with your chest wide open, and then all your organs will fall out, and you’ll die literally a shell of your former self. Do you want that, Mr. Eckhart?”

Reinhold froze when he heard that. No, the prospect of that didn’t sound pleasing in the least bit. In fact, it sounded horrifically painful. More so then he ever thought possible. He took a deep breath and went limp. Her scare tactic seemed to work. Whatever was happening, maybe if he let her continue to do what she was doing, he would escape… somehow.

“Good boy,” she sighed with relief, “now just lay there and let them do a majority of the work while I go get the paperwork for your employment. We’ll fill it out the rest of what you missed together.”

Employment? Reinhold remembered he had gotten the job from earlier. Was this part of the hiring procedure? Even more so, what did she mean by “them?”

He observed his surroundings. Sure enough, she was right. He was in what looked like a small rundown Chinese takeout place. The windows had been covered up with newspaper though, and several laptop computers were placed on all the tables. Two people that he could see from the corner of his eye were busy typing away, while he heard another person on the phone in the alcove right around the corner. Surreal, indeed, especially with his chest wide open.

He looked down at his open cavity and tried to look at his insides. A wave of nausea began to come over him, and he could see his stomach gurgle with displeasure from it. He then felt something sliver along the underside of it, and watched his organs push up slightly, before laying low again. It then poked up from behind his kidney: a black slimy eel like serpent, slithering its way along the outside of his body before burying itself back into him. Another serpent of sorts – a white one this time – showed up its head momentarily as it pulled something up out of him with its razor sharp teeth, and began to chew on the still connected piece of flesh.

Reinhold felt his face go cold. He turned his head over to the counter edge and wretched out his breakfast from earlier. It certainly didn’t taste that bad when it was going down.

“Don’t worry about that,” the woman said from the far end of the restaurant kitchen. “Happens all the time to the new recruits whenever they see Cleaners inside of them.”

“Cleaners?”

“You bet,” she answered, sitting back in her chair, now with a clipboard and pen with her. “They were originally an idea by Dr. Norris Stanwood back in the late 1800s. He wrote a small story over it, disguising it as a medical find. Apparently, people didn’t get the memo that it was meant to be a satire, and they took it as truth. Lo and behold, it created rumors, then false sightings, and then the real deals were eventually brought into reality at around mid 1920s. Donald’s great grandfather was the one who discovered them. He was the head of this place at the time, so he trademarked them, and they’ve belonged to Novel Corp. ever since, classified as a D-rank figment.”

Reinhold didn’t know what she was talking about again. Norris Stanwood? Cleaners? D-rank figment? He had his chest open as it was. He didn’t need anymore additional confusion under his belt.

“Sorry about that,” she said, noticing his confusion. “I’ll explain the Cleaners. Basically, they go into your system and clean out any unnecessary bacteria or enzymes that might be detrimental to your body. Cholesterol, blood clots, minor infections, other things like that. We give em to all our new recruits. It’s what Donald shot you with. They start off the size of a maggot and then grow over the span of an hour or two to the size of snakes. Also, the moment they enter your body, they release a slime that numbs the area so they can began work on the cleaning. It’s kind of interesting to watch.”

She stood up from her seat again and looked down into his body. “You see, the black one actually surfs around your body looking for the negative enzymes, and alerts the white one of its location so that it can eat them. The white one lives through those enzymes, while the black one lives off the blood in your body. It’s a strange symbiotic relationship. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

Reinhold quickly shook his head. “No,” he yelled. “No it’s not! I CAN SEE MY OWN HEART BEATING! How is that supposed to be fascinating!?”

The woman rolled her eyes and sighed, “spoiled sport.”

“And what do you mean by figments?” he asked immediately after wards.

The woman sat back down in her seat, adjusting herself comfortably and brushing some of her dirty and dark locks out her sight. “Novel Corp. specializes in the investigation, collection, and sometimes termination of potential entities created and/or brought into existence by the average human, AKA figments. The Cleaners are just good examples.” She hoped he understood that, but knew he more than likely didn’t. “Look, all you need to know is that unlike the other organizations which chase the paranormal, aliens, and cryptids, we go after things that are brought into the world by human creation simply using their imagination. Does that make sense?”

Reinhold shook his head.

“Of course it doesn’t,” she groaned. “Let’s just take care of this paperwork before we get into the full job description alright?” She clicked her pen open and placed it down on the first bit of the file. “First off, what’s your full name?”

The man brought his hands up and waved them in front of his opening. “I can see my own heart beating,” he squeaked out in a pathetic tone. “What about that do you not get?”

“Full name, please.”

Reinhold sighed and let his head fall back onto the counter. He still didn’t know what was going on. He had so many questions, but knew he wasn’t going to get any of them answered at the moment. “My name is Reinhold Tucker Eckhart.”

She scribbled it down the best she could. “Alright then. We got your birthday and social security information already, so we can just skip past those. Address is all set too. Race… African American. Drugs?” She peaked up at him and smiled. “Well we know you’ve done acid, so that’s checked. Anything else I should be aware of? And this includes alcohol mind you.”

Reinhold felt himself grow nervous again. He couldn’t get away from the acid assumption, but he could at least lie about everything else. He opened his mouth to answer, but was stopped short by the woman again.

“Before you answer,” she said, “just know that if we find out later you’re actually doing things that you didn’t list with us, we can have you terminated and black listed from any other organization of this kind, as well as other areas of employment. So I suggest you be honest…”

Reinhold gulped and took in a deep breath through his nose. “Weed,” he admitted, “and booze. Lots of weed and booze… and acid.”

She wrote it down on her sheet and flipped the pen between her fingers. “Good to know. And for future reference: if you ever want to try some of the best weed money can buy, come see me. My shit comes special ordered from South America.” A devilish grin appears on her face for a moment, sparking a surprised reaction from Reinhold. She quickly wipes it and continues onward.

“So you don’t care I do drugs?” Reinhold shakily asked.

She laughed slightly and continued to write things down on her clipboard. “If you weren’t on something before you came here, you’d certainly be on something when you leave. Are you single?”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “Unfortunately.”

“That makes two of us,” she followed up with a sigh of her own. The woman quickly checked the box on the sheet and continued. “Have any medical conditions you or your family has that we should be aware of?”

Reinhold’s face grew cold as he thought about it. “My father died from Huntington’s disease.” He paused for a second and stared up at the light on the ceiling. “I haven’t gotten myself tested yet for it, so I don’t know about myself just yet.”

“I see,” she responded as she wrote. “I’m sorry to hear that. We offer a great benefits package that works for you even when you are no longer employed with us. You just have to stay on with us for four years to receive the long term one. You get the basic benefits immediately upon employment.”

He was silent to her attempt at making him feel any better.

“Let’s move on,” she continued. “Would you be opposed to handling a dangerous weapon of sorts?”

“No,” he answered.

“Good, cause you’re going to go out onto the gun range tomorrow morning with Javier,” she explained. “Just don’t call him Javier alright. He’s using Terrance Williams as his cover for the next seven or eight years before he changes it again. Don’t ask.”

Reinhold wouldn’t. It wasn’t like he was going to get an answer anyways.

“Have you ever knowingly created a figment?” she continued.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replied. How would one go about doing that, he wondered.

She checked it off and continued down the list. She was about to ask him the next question, when the front door to the restaurant flew open and a sharply dressed Hispanic man who looked in his early thirties hurried in. He shut the door tight and locked it up. His tongue quickly licked at the soul patch under his lip as his light brown eyes shakily looked toward the door. His face looked twisted from panic, and the glasses over him hung crooked.

“Oh shit,” the woman muttered seriously. “We were just talking about him. DONALD!” Her voice carried to the backroom where the aging owner of the business jumped out.

“What’s going on?” he asked between puffs of a cigarette.

“It’s Javier! He looks mental again!”

Donald spit out the stick and stamped it beneath his foot before making a beeline for the front of the building. “Shit! He must be being stalked again. Grab his gun before he unloads it out onto the public again.”

The woman zoomed around the counter and quickly tackled the Hispanic agent to the ground. She groped around his side until she found his revolver and threw it to the behind her. Donald appeared beside her a moment later, and pulled out his own gun, shoving it against the scared man’s temple.

“Listen here, Terrance,” he said as his other hand wrapped around his worker’s neck, “if you’re going to act like this again, I’m gonna make sure you either leave here in a casket or in a straightjacket. You hear me?”

The man on the floor writhed in insanity, and flailed his arms everywhere. One went into his pocket, and pulled out…

“Tiny gun!” Reinhold screamed as he watched Javier/Terrance/Whatever-His-Name-Was pull out a derringer from his back pocket.

The woman grabbed it in a steadfast motion, pulled back the hammer and shot the lunatic in his leg. A bright light of blue lighting filled the area as Donald and the woman jumped back. A few of the bolts danced across their arms, but they were able to escape unscathed for the most part. The man they were holding, however, twitched and jumped as the shock coursed through him. The light eventually faded, leaving a tired and still living Terrance panting on the floor. He smoked slightly, and smelled of burned arm hair.

The woman then pulled down the derringer chamber and pulled out the two bullets in it. She approached Reinhold, and dropped them both on the table.

“These,” she began, “are .40 calibur Lightning Rods, to put it frankly. They are rechargeable bullets that shoot controlled bursts of electricity, ember, and/or sand. The recharge time is usually about twenty two minutes, but there are some types that only take about ninety seconds.” She looked Reinhold in the eye. “I tell you this because these are what we use against figments, and anybody who gets in our way. They are efficient, they are useful, they are non-lethal…”

“And they’re cheap,” Donald added, as he put away his own weapon. “We don’t use real bullets, so don’t ask, Eckhart.” He took the limp man’s body over his shoulder and began to slowly walk toward the back again. “I’m taking him to the freezer so he can rest, and then I’m calling Dr. Uzumaki.”

The woman nodded.

“Freezer?” Reinhold asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “That freezer’s been broken for years. We turned it into a recovery center. You’ll be in there soon enough. Maybe you’ll get to meet Jav… err… Terrance while you’re in there.”

“Do I have to?” Reinhold asked, completely terrified from the man’s reaction.

She laughed and sat back down in her seat. “He’s not that bad. He’s actually a pretty good guy, and a total cut up when he’s sane. He was just being Stalked by an S-rank.”

“Stalked?”

She didn’t answer at first. She instead leaned back into her seat, and looked at the man with a solemn expression. “He’s being stalked by an S-rank that we can’t capture, observe, or terminate. And the less said of the S-ranks, the better. I don’t even know what’s stalking him. I’m not allowed to know. So once again: the less said about it, the better.”

The air between them was sudden thick with anxiety, and neither of them enjoyed it.

“Come on,” she said, “let’s get these questions done while the Cleaners do their thing.”

“Hold on a second!” he stopped her. “Why aren’t you allowed to know what’s stalking him? I mean, if he needs help and the figment is causing him to trip his shit like that, then wouldn’t you all want to help him?”

The woman shook her head again. “What did I just say? The less said about it, the better. When you finish with your orientation today, you’ll know why we can’t get involved. Just know that Terrance is one of the best agents we got right now, and that it was his choice to hunt down an S-rank. And that’s all I’m going to say on the subject.”

It wasn’t the answer Reinhold wanted. He wanted to know more. “But wouldn’t you all…?” He was stopped mid sentence though as he felt something creep along his throat. He began to cough hysterically, and felt the slimy slither of a Cleaner crawl up his throat and into his mouth. His coughing gave the thing passage, as it moved down his chin and neck and back into his chest.

“Oh god,” he gagged, “it tastes like a dirty tire.”

The woman smiled. “And you’d know this because?”

He coughed some more and spit some of the slime out of his mouth onto the floor. “The less said about it, the better.”

She exploded into laughter. “You might just fit in here after all.”

“Thanks,” he coughed. He then realized something extremely important he forgot to follow up on. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“That’s because I didn’t say it,” she answered him. “I’m Suki. And this,” she added as she pulled out a syringe, “is going to make the rest of this operation so much more easier.” Without a moments notice, she stuck the needle end into his arm, and injected him with the milky white substance.

“Ah!” he exclaimed. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I can tell the Cleaners are almost done,” she responded. “Usually when they go through the throat, it means they’re desperate to find more negative bacteria. And when they finish up, it’s my turn to look around in there. Don’t worry, I’ll put everything back where I found it. And we’re not putting tracking chips or anything in there.”

“Well then, what ARE you doing?” He suddenly found his body was getting heavy and his vision was blurring fast.

“Just a small physical,” she said as her voice began to echo. “Then we’ll close you up, and let you rest the rest of the day. We can finish the rest of the paperwork later. I promise to be gentle while I’m in there, by the way…”

His vision was black again, and his consciousness began to fade. Everything was returning to how he had woken up earlier.

In the last moments before unconsciousness, he heard the woman coo: “Sweet dreams, Reinhold Eckhart.”

End of Part Two...

#Ing's stories #writing #horror #contemporary fantasy

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notalwayslate · 6 years

Text

The Curious Case of Lights and Love at Lake Lochdubh

For: @minticetea

Happy Rumbelle Secret Santa!!!

Prompt: Anyelle, X-files AU

Summary: When mysterious lights and a crop circle appear in the small town of Lochdubh, Agent Fox Mulder is soon on the case much to the dismay of Constable Hamish Macbeth. However when Linguistics Expert, Belle French, arrives to assist, Hamish finds the intrusion on his town not as troubling as the intrusion on his heart.

AO3 Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13084107

The gust of Scotland’s fresh air was a welcome relief to her jetlag eyes, as Belle exited Edinburgh’s baggage terminal. The hustle and bustle of life was eerily quiet in the predawn light, as she rolled her luggage to the curb. After watching the rest of the passengers on her plane leave with family or awaiting taxis, she started to worry that he wouldn’t show. Just as more doubt started to creep into her mind, she noticed a single headlight in the distance. Relief washed over her, as the white Ford Fiesta pulled up to the curb.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Mulder apologized while getting out of the driver seat.

She smiled at him, as he took her luggage placing it in the boot of the car.

“You know you have a headlight out?” She called out to him as she slid into the passenger seat of the car buckling her seatbelt. She heard the boot close, as he slid back into the driver’s seat.

“Oh yes, I’m very aware I have a headlight out. Third time in fact, in the last two weeks.”

“Huh,” her brows burrowed together. “Is there a short circuit or something causing it to go out?”

“More like a short temper,” Mulder responded. “The local authority doesn’t take too well to strangers in his town.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m convinced I’m keeping the local repair shop in business, with as many replacement lights I’ve had to buy.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Just the cost one pays to find the truth I guess,” he shrugged, smiling at her. “Thank you for coming. I know you didn’t have to but…”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Belle abruptly cut him off. “The truth is I really owe a lot to Dana. It was due to her ample praise of my work that the bureau extended their consulting contract with me. So when she called asking for a favor, I was only too happy to help.”

Smiling at the mention of his partner’s name, Mulder never ceased to be amazed by what an inspiration Scully was to others. Of course she had a hand in Belle French becoming one of the top consultants in ancient languages, Scully always made it a point to promote and expand the number of women working in the field.

“I must confess though, Mulder, I don’t know many agents, who seek out paranormal activity while they are supposed to be on vacation. When Scully called asking me to come to Scotland to help you with this, I was surprised when she told me it was unofficial business.”

“What?” He shrugged. “Some agents prefer a beach, others the ski slopes. I just prefer to find the unequivocal proof of extraterrestrial life.”

Her laugh turned into a smothered yawn, as Mulder observed her with concerned eyes. “Sleep Belle. We have a few hours till we get to Lochdubh.”

A thump and sound of shattering glass bolted her up into a sitting position from a dead sleep. Alone in the car she looked out the windshield to see a uniformed man standing next to a taller man smoking a pipe and wearing a deerstalker hat.

“What the…” she mumbled to herself scrambling for the door handle. The look of complete and utter shock that fell upon the two men’s face as she exited the car would have been hilarious if anger hadn’t preoccupied her thoughts. Looking down at the shattered glass on the road, she raised her chin looking the policeman straight in the eye.

“Did you just break the other headlight?”

He blinked owlishly at her.

“How dare you!” She scolded.

She waited for a response but was met with silence. After a few more moments of glaring daggers at them, the taller man finally spoke to her.

“I’m so sorry, m’lady. My friend here thought this car belonged to someone else. He will be more than willing to pay for the damage. Uh, isn’t that right Hamish?”

A firm nudge to the ribs, finally broke whatever spell the man was under, as he jumped to attention. “Of course. Of course I will pay for the damage. Both of them.”

“Darn right you will. You…”

“Belle!”

Turning to the call of her name, she saw Mulder running towards her, a drink tray and a white bakery bag in hand.

“Well I see you’re up.” He placed the items down on the hood of the car, taking out one of the coffee cups, handing it to her. Turning to the policeman, he smirked.

“I see you are already making new friends, Constable Macbeth.”

“See, I knew it was his car,” Hamish balked to the taller man.

“So that makes it okay?” Belle interjected.

He turned to her, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down whatever words he was going to speak.

“You know he has had to pay for every headlight you have broken. Last time I checked you are supposed to be enforcing the law, not breaking it.”

A small crowd of locals gathered at the scene, as the petite brunette berated the mute Constable in front of all to see.

Throwing his hat across the room with a curse, Hamish stalked into the station.

“Bad morning?” TV John asked lying on the couch watching the telly.

“I looked like a bloody idiot!”

Hamish moved to the window, peaking out the blinds. Across the street, Mulder was helping carry Belle’s luggage into the Inn.

“Well you better call Billy and have him repair those headlights, unless you want a round two from the little lady.”

“So you heard then?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole town heard,” TV John chuckled.

“I’m not paying for that. That bloke has been creeping around this town for too long now. The rest of them left weeks ago, but oh no, not him. And now what? He has his girlfriend coming here?”

“Who said she was his girlfriend?”

“Well who else would she be?” Hamish’s harsh tone grew curiously lighter. “Why you don’t think she is? You think she’s single? No way would a woman as beautiful as that be single.”

Chuckling TV John picked up the phone, dialing, as Hamish continued with his rambling.

“A girl like that wouldn’t want to be stuck in a small town like this. Nah, did you see her clothing? Well of course you didn’t you weren’t there, but it was nice. Expensive. A girl who likes that type of expensive duds isn’t going to be…”

“One room or two?” John’s inquiry jarred Hamish from his own self chatter.

“Ah, I see thanks.” And with that John hung up the phone. Grinning at Hamish, he spoke. “Two rooms.”

“What?” a distracted Hamish answered.

“That was Granny from the Inn. They are staying in two rooms, two separate rooms.”

“Two rooms?” Hamish smiled. Grabbing his hat off the floor he put it on walking towards the door.

“Where are you going?” TV john inquired.

“I gotta go see Billy the mechanic.”

After a much needed rest, and a belly full of some of the most scrumptious food she had ever eaten, Belle found herself with Mulder in the middle of a field a kilometer or so outside of town, where the first crop circle appeared almost a month and a half ago.

Although she had seen the pictures Mulder had emailed her, it was an entirely new experience to see the patterns and symbols first hand. Examining the flattened grass, Belle listened as Mulder recounted how local residents reported strange lights above Lake Lochdubh, while a local sheep herder found this in his field the next morning.

“Can we talk to him, the herder that found this?”

“Nobody’s talking now, the Constable made sure of that.”

“I’m surprised it got out at all.”

“Someone contacted the media. Soon every reporter found their way to Lochdubh. I found out about it on a small international paranormal news feed I follow. Caught the first flight out, but that’s when the hoax confession came out. Everyone was leaving by the time I arrived.”

“Well that was one of the things that confused me, when Dana called and told me about it. They classified it as a hoax within days of it appearing, so what made you decide to stay here and investigate?”

“Well I found it interesting that the man, Peter, who confessed to it, was known to spend his nights passed out in the local pub. Something just didn’t feel right about it. So I stayed, and a week and a half later, I saw the lights over Lake Lochdubh, and a new symbol appeared in this field by the next morning.”

“So why would Peter do it again, after confessing it was a hoax?” Belle inquired.

“Why, indeed, especially since I have it on good authority that he was passed out in the drunk tank that night.”

“So it wasn’t him, but why confess though?”

“Well one thing you will learn about this small town, is that the residents want to keep it that way…a small town”

“So we have a false confession, lights in the night sky, and new patterns and symbols being discovered?”

Mulder nodded.

“I love a good mystery,” Belle chuckled, as they continued to examine the field.

Four days had passed since Hamish first laid eyes on Belle French, and although he saw her consistently in his dreams, he had yet to see her again in person, that is until he walked into Barney and Agnes’s pub that Thursday night.

She sat in a corner table, a dress of blue lace, wound tightly against her firm body. She sat with Mulder, and Doc, sipping on a beer. Thanks to the town’s twin gossipers, Nessie and Jessie, Hamish had learned everything there was to know about the divine Belle French, and where and with whom she spent her time with over the last few days. She was an interesting bird, he would give her that. She had a BA in Ancient Languages, and her masters in Literature, if the gossip was to be believed.

“If only she was here under different circumstances,” he thought to himself.

He thought he quieted down this alien phenomenon hogwash when he got Peter to agree to confess to making those symbols in the field. Yes, Hamish was curious as to the origins of the lights and unexpected crop circles, but he was not about to let his beloved town to be put on display for every passing stranger to examine. The people here deserved peace and quiet, not to be poked or prodded by every alien chasing crackpot that stumbled into town.

He snapped out of his thoughts as her delicate laughter floated across the room, nestling into his ears.

“She’s a beautiful woman,” Barney the bartender motioned his head towards Belle’s table as he poured Hamish another.

“Aye.”

“Nice too. Agnes told me she was single as well.”

“Oh, did she now,” Hamish feigned annoyance.

“I’m just saying, a girl like that, they don’t stay single for long. A man has gotta take a chance when he still has one.”

“Well, I happen…” Hamish’s words were cut short, as he heard a familiar masculine voice boom through the room.

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well Ms. French.”

Hamish turned in his seat to see the newly returned James Spencer pulling up a seat next to Belle. His grip on his mug tightened as a wave of anger, and what Hamish would deny was jealousy made his blood boil.

James Spencer, six foot two, well built, and rich, was the only child of town matriarch Albert Spencer. He had recently returned to Lochdubh after his father’s passing, to take over the town store. If there was one thing Hamish hated more than a stranger in Lochdubh, it was James Spencer in Lochdubh. And there he was, talking to Belle French with a smoothness that would probably have her falling in love by the end of the night.

“Another round for the lady, Barney.”

Within minutes of meeting James, Belle knew he was not her type. Sure he was easy on the eyes but as he continued to boast about himself, she could see there was no real substance behind his looks. She had dated men like that before and it always ended in disaster.

“Well we are glad you are back, even though we wish it was under different circumstances,” Doc spoke up to James.

“Thanks,” James smiled, turning his attention back to Belle. “I moved back here from Elin after my father’s death.” Although he appeared solemn as he talked about his father, Belle couldn’t help shake the feeling that there was a bitterness hiding somewhere beneath his eyes. As he continued to talk, Belle couldn’t help but to catch a glance of the Constable, who was sitting at the bar. She caught herself glancing down at how well his jeans fit his backside. Feeling sudden warmth coiling in her belly, she shook her head, trying to force her attention back to the company at her table, but her eyes kept searching for him.

Two days later, the knocking on her door roused her from her sleep.

Rubbing her eyes, Belle let an elated Mulder into her room.

“Look what someone left outside my door. And more importantly look at page 118.”

Taking the book from Mulder’s hand, she turned to the dog eared page. Astonished Belle looked down at the page, the symbol she just saw in the field, staring back at her.

“What, How….Who?” Startled her thoughts scrambled together.

“I have no idea. I woke up this morning, and this book was at my door. Who knew? I guess at least one person in this town actually wants to help us.”

“It’s a Lingua Franca Semitic script.” Belle said flabbergasted. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” Grabbing the pictures of the crop circles off the desk she examined them against the book. “Get me a pen and some paper,” she instructed as she sat down at the small hotel desk. Mulder watched silently as Belle frantically took pen to paper, finishing she sat back in her chair in awe.

“Could you translate it?”

She nodded silently at him.

“Well what do the symbols mean?”

“Believe.” She whispered.

Exhilarated by the finding, Belle and Mulder found a renewed resolve to uncover the mystery of the Lochdubh lights and crop circles. With a camera, walkie talkie, and blanket in hand, Belle made her way to the shore of Lake Lochdubh that evening with the intent of hopefully viewing the mysterious lights, while Mulder scouted the field.

As the sun went down, Belle pulled the blanket tightly around her, as she heard a snapping of a twig in the distance. Grabbing the walkie talkie, she pressed the button.

“Mulder are you there?” She was met with moments of static before Mulder’s voice rumbled in.

“I’m here, everything okay by the lake?”

Hearing another twig snap, Belle whispered. “I think someone is here.”

“I’ll be right there.”

She heard a heavy footstep behind her. Lifting her walkie talkie, she spun on her heel, ready to pounce on the intruder.

“Hamish?”

“Hey,” He held both hands up in front of him. “I didn’t mean to scare yah. I heard you were coming up here, and I just wanted to check on you.”

Relief flooded her system, as she placed her walkie talkie down.

“Belle are you okay, are you there?” She jumped as Mulder’s voice boomed from the device.

“Yeah, I’m here, it’s okay. It’s just the Constable.”

Hamish tried not to grimace at the ringing description she gave of him. Just the Constable. Not like the Adonis, James Spencer, Hamish thought to himself. He stood silently just looking at her. This was a mistake. He had heard from TV John that the pair of them had planned on splitting up, she at the lake, Mulder at the hay field. The thought of her alone in the dark made him apprehensive, so he packed a bag and before he could think better of it, headed to the lake to find her.

He needed to say something, but standing before her with those alluring blue eyes on him, all thought went out his head. How could anyone be so gorgeous? ‘Say something’ his thoughts screamed at him.

‘Tell her you were worried about her, no tell her you always patrol around the lake,’ his inner thoughts fought.

“So….” He finally spoke. “Seen any little green men?”

Shite, why the hell did he say that?

“If you are done making fun of me, I’m sure you have other people you still need to harass tonight, Constable,” she bucked back her displeasure evident in her voice.

“It was just a joke…I”

“Yes, I’m well aware everything I and Agent Mulder do is a joke to you Constable.” She snipped.

This was not going well, but as much as his embarrassment wanted him to flee, he still couldn’t just leave her here alone.

“Listen, I’ll just sit over here then,” he placed down his bag, spreading out a blanket he had in his arms about 20 feet away from hers. She shot him a look of her confusion, so he continued his reasoning. “I’m worried about you being out her alone.”

He saw her chin lower, her defensiveness ebbing away. “I won’t say anything, I’ll just sit over here, but…well my job is to keep this town safe, and while you are in this town, that includes you as well.”

The corner of her mouth twitched, and he could have sworn that he saw a brief smile.

“I actually wouldn’t mind the company,” she conceded.

His promise to stay quiet lasted all of fifteen minutes, and before long, the two of them were lost in conversation with each other. As the night went on, she found herself sitting on his blanket, as he pulled out a thermos of coffee.

“It’s so beautiful here. I understand why you want to keep this place hidden away from the real world.”

“It must be a change for you, coming from a big city,” Hamish responded.

“Who said I’m from a big city?” She laughed. Hamish listened memorized by her story. How she lived in Australia till the age of 10 then moved to America with her father after her mother had passed. He was surprised to learn that she currently lived in a small town, Storybrooke Main, to be near her father.

“The FBI often calls me in to consult on a variety of cases, so I get to travel some, but most of my work can be done at home remotely. Although I enjoy the adventure, there is nothing like small town.” She smiled at him, and Hamish felt his heart skip a beat.

The more she talked, the more he learned, and the more enthralled he became with her. Lucky for him, they saw no lights over the lake that night, or the next, or the night after that. His new ritual of nights with Belle under a blanket of stars next to Lake Lochdubh, had easily become the best nights of his life.

Hamish never had trouble garnering a woman’s attention; there must have been some truth about women loving a man in uniform. Women had come and gone out of his life, but the feelings he had for Belle were surprisingly new and deeper, than anything he felt before, and he hadn’t even kissed her yet. A situation he planned or rather hoped to rectify very soon.

Belle sat across from Mulder in the booth, a permanent smile plastered on her face as she stared at the menu.

“You look overly chipper this morning. Since I know we haven’t had any progress with the case, I assume you had progress in….other areas. ” He smirked taking a sip of coffee.

“He’s not who I thought he was. I mean the first time I met him, he was breaking your headlights, but he’s really a good guy underneath it all. He likes to read western novels, and you should hear the stories of how he bends over backwards to help his friends, and how much he loves this town, and….”

Holding his hand up to stop her love struck ramblings, Mulder laughed. “I get it, I get it. You think the guy is wonderful, but since he gets your nights, could I just get your attention this morning.”

“Right,” Belle said blushing, as she placed down her menu, pulling out the Ancient Linguistic book that their mysterious benefactor had left them. As Mulder started to talk, she flipped open the book, as the pages fell over, revealing the inside back cover. Her attention focused on an old worn brownish residue on the inside cover. She traced the rectangular shaped stain, as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“Where is the nearest library?”

Warm fingers caressed his face as he leaned his cheek into the touch. Slowly opening his eyes he smiled at the vision of Belle before him. “Best dream ever.” He murmured sleepily, as her giggle danced through the air.

“Ahem,” Mulder cleared his throat, startling Hamish fully awake. Rubbing his eyes, he did in fact see Belle standing before him, with Mulder behind her. Was she just touching his face, or was he dreaming that? Either way, he wasn’t going to complain as he sat up on the couch in the jail.

“Sorry I must have fallen asleep?”

“That’s alright; we’ve all been having active nights lately.” Mulder smirked.

Casting him a glance, Mulder took her cue. “I…uh…I’ll just wait outside then.”

“Sorry to wake you,” Belle blushed. “But I needed to tell you something.”

“No it’s fine,” Hamish stood straightening his uniform.

“I just wanted to let you know, that Mulder and I have to follow up on a lead today, so I won’t be at the lake tonight.”

The punch of disappointment he felt showed on his face, as the next words out of her mouth were, “I’m sorry.”

“No, no you have nothing to be sorry for,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I just….well…I…” He suddenly felt the end of his ears burning. Why was he so nervous to tell her that he wanted to spend more time with her? That the nights they spend together at the lake were the best moments of his life.

“I was thinking…well I’ve had such a good time getting to know you, that maybe when I get back we could go out…to eat….like a date?” she bit her bottom lip, looking at him through her lashes.

“Aye. I would like that. Love that in fact.”

“Great.”

“Great,” he echoed smiling so wide his face hurt. “So you got a lead?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head. “We discovered….”

Her words were cut off by the swift entry of Doc, “Hamish they need you at….Oh,” he halted looking at the young couple before him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve got to get going,” Belle smiled at Doc, turning her attention back to Hamish. “And it sounds like your needed elsewhere.” She turned to leave, as Hamish grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his lips. “Be careful.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose, as his lips made contact with her hand. With a blush, she whispered, “See you soon,” as she turned and walked out the door.

The hours moved as slow as molasses that day. TV John couldn’t help but chuckle, as he watched Hamish walk to the window for the 10th time, peering out, looking for any trace of her return. It wasn’t until well after the sunset that TV John finally convinced Hamish to head to Barney’s Pub for a drink.

“Come on Romeo,” he teased. “Your Juliet obviously won’t be back till late tonight.”

Taking a swig of beer, Hamish leaned into Barney who was cleaning a glass behind the bar. “So how did you know Agnes was the one for you Barney?”

Chuckling to himself, Barney stared at his wife standing at the opposite end of the bar. “The moment I met her.”

“Phish posh,” a drunken regular chimed in sitting a few stools down. “There is no such thing as love at first sight.”

“Who asked you?” Barney clipped back, turning his attention back to Hamish. “It’s a common question, people ask, how do you know when you meet the one. The truth is when you’ve met the one, you just know it, it’s….”

“Magic, different….special,” Hamish said wistfully smiling at the thought of Belle.

“That it is,” Barney smiled at the love-struck grin on the constable’s face. Soon however Hamish’s smile faded, as two drunks started to fight. Hamish dragged the first man out, cuffing him to the railing outside the pub, while he went in for the second. As he took both men to the jail to sleep it off in the drunk tank, he shot a glance over to the inn, seeing that Mulder’s car still had not returned.

With both men in their cell, Hamish took a seat at his desk to fill out the paperwork, as the events and lack of sleep this week finally caught up to him. Closing his eyes, he fell into a deep peaceful sleep.

Jolting awake, Hamish lifted his head from his desk. Daylight streamed in the room, as he quickly headed straight to the window. A wave of comfort flushed through his body, as he saw the white ford fiesta, sitting outside the Inn. She was back.

With pep in his step, Hamish walked over to the cell, a renewed energy of getting to see Belle today, fueling his good mood. Picking up his baton, he started banging it against the bars.

“Rise and shine laddies,” the continuous clinking of the bars, aroused the two hangover men.

Groaning loudly the first man sat up on his cot, rubbing his blood shot eyes.

“Could you stop that damn noise?” the man commanded, causing Hamish to stop for a moment as if pondering the question.

“Oh you mean this noise?” Hamish smirked lifting the baton once again banging it against the bars. “Maybe you’ll think twice before acting like fools at Barney’s.”

Hamish heard the door open, glancing behind him to see Doc entering the jail.

“Hey Hamish,” Doc called out, as Hamish stopped his torment, turning around to acknowledge him.

“Hey Doc.”

“I heard from Agnes that these two were causing quite the ruckus last night.” Doc stated walking over the cell. “Thought I would bring over these,” he pulled a bottle of aspirin from his pocket, and a couple bottles of water.”

“Give me that,” the second man mumbled squeezing his arm between the bars to get the remedy for his hangover.

“You eat yet?” Hamish inquired to Doc.

“Yeah, I just finished breakfast.”

“Well after we get these two taken care of, I’m heading over the Inn to see if Belle wants to get a bite to eat then.”

“She’s already there, with James Spencer.”

“What?” Hamish spoke his voice laced with confusion. “Just the two of ‘em?”

He didn’t want to be jealous. Why was he jealous? Belle was just eating breakfast. Eating breakfast with the most eligible bachelor in town according to most of the female population.

“Take care of these two will yah?” Hamish asked Doc, as he was already half out the door, making a beeline to the restaurant. His heart raced as he neared the building, stopping in his tracks as he saw the two of them through the window.

The oaf reached over the table taking the hand she so freely offered. Hamish stumbled a moment, trying to will the power back into his legs as James stroked her knuckles and she gave him one of her most radiant smiles. He saw a rose lying near her, obviously given to her by him.

Through his agony, Hamish still had the forthright to move away from the window, as he flung his back against the brick wall of the alley. Trying to keep the contents of his dinner from last night down, he ran his hands over his face, his heart trying to make any type of sense of what he just saw. That looked like a date, hell who was he fooling, that was a date. She was flirting with him, he knew that smile, it was the same one she had given him.

After minutes of slouching in the alleyway, Hamish stood tall, straightening his cap. Anger and heartbreak fueled his steps as he sauntered into the restaurant, heading straight to the table with Belle and James.

“Hamish,” she was clearly startled by his sudden appearance pulling her hand out of the grasp of James.

“Good morning,” he gave his most cocky grin, even though he was dying inside. ‘Don’t let her see the hurt. Don’t give her the satisfaction,’ he thought to himself. “How are you two doing this morning?”

Her mouth hung open, and he could see she was struggling with what to say.

“Good, Constable,” James spoke. “A breakfast date with a beautiful woman is a wonderful way to start your day.”

Laughing, Hamish shook his head. He clapped his hand on James’s back, a tad too hard. “Yes, I believe that. Well don’t let me interrupt your date here.” He nodded at her, “Belle.”

Turning he closed his eyes, as he walked away from their table, his heart shattering in a thousand pieces.

Doc jumped at the slamming of the door. He was still in the cell attending to the men, as Hamish huffed into the room, throwing his cap, then undoing his tie, and throwing that to the floor as well.

“I take it things didn’t go well?”

If looks could kill, Doc would have been dead on the floor. Just as Doc opened his mouth to speak, Belle came rushing through the door.

“Hamish!”

“Oh great,” Hamish kicked the side of his desk. “Your date already over?”

“No listen you don’t understand…I was...”

“No I don’t need to understand,” he barked out. “I thought….I thought we…” he gestured his hand pointing between he and her. “Forget it.”

“If you would just let me speak,” Belle countered.

“You should hear the lady out,” one of the drunks in the cell chimed in his two cents.

“Stay the hell outta this!” Hamish pointed towards the cell. Turning he plastered on a phony grin.

“Its fine, Belle. It was a fun distraction, but it’s time you left here.”

“What?” he saw the stab of pain in her eyes, and for a moment he wanted to kick himself, but yet his broken heart kept talking.

“I was just trying to get close to you, so that I could get you to convince Mulder to leave. You’ve both outstayed your welcome here.”

Her bottom lip wobbled as her eyes started to water. “I don’t believe you.”

“You mean nothing to me.”

“You’re lying,” her voice was hoarse with emotion.

“Good day Ms. French,” he gestured for her to leave.

Walking to the door, she turned to him, one hand on the knob.

“Well you mean something to me,” she lifted her chin, her eyes still watering, as she walked out of the jail, possibly his life for good.

“You are going to regret that, Mate,” the other drunk called out of his cell.

“Who asked you?” Hamish countered.

“That girl has feelings for you, even a blind man can see that,” the other drunk spoke.

Hamish sat down in his chair running his hands through his hair. The look of hurt in her eyes would haunt his every night. She didn’t seem like the type of girl who played games. Why would she lead him on? So many questions swarmed his mind. She wanted to talk to him. Why hadn’t he let her speak, at least find out why she wanted James now, and not him.

“In my day, a man fought for the ones he loves,” the drunk said to the other.

“Aye. His pride outweighed his heart on that one. Shame cause she was a real looker, nice too.”

Overhearing the drunkards, Hamish realized that they were right. Belle was special, he had never had these feelings before in his life, and doubted he ever would again. He needed to fight for love, fight for her.

He quickly stood up, casting the three men a glance of determination.

“Go get err, Hamish,” Doc smiled at him.

After going to the Inn, he was informed that Belle was not there. He searched every building, asked every person he saw, but it seemed no one knew where she was. ‘Damnit, the town wasn’t that big, where the hell could she have gone, he thought to himself.’ Then it hit him.

Jumping in his car he made the short trek, and found her sitting by the lake. Willing his courage, he got out of the car, walking towards her with his heart in his hand. He would plead his case, beg her to give them a chance, and if she still wanted to be with James in the end, he would walk away if that is what her heart truly desired.

She was startled as she looked up and saw him standing a few feet away, he could see that.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her eyes puffy, and he could see she had been crying for a while. Even with swollen eyes, and puffy nose, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life, and every word, every plan he had went out the window, as his heart spoke.

“You mean something to me too. Actually, you pretty much mean everything to me.” Her eyes started to water again, and he pressed forward.

“I was wrong. I saw you and him there, and jealousy and anger took over, but I should never have spoken to you that way, or said the things I said. Even though I can’t change that, I am here now, and want to talk this out, because I love you, and what we have is worth fighting for.

He waited with baited breath, as she moved to her feet. When she lifted her hands, half of him expected her to slap him, but she grabbed the lapels of his coat, crashing her lips to his.

The taste of her lips, made his head spin, and with that one kiss every other kiss in his life faded from his memory. This was his forever; this was the only woman he would kiss again in his life. His lips followed her, as she moved to pull away.

“That breakfast with James was just…” her words were cut off, as Hamish pulled her in this time for another kiss. That second kiss led to a third, then fourth, and soon the two found themselves wrapped around each other on the ground. Things may have gone further, if Hamish didn’t believe that Belle deserved better than their first time being a quickie on the cold hard ground. She deserved time, and comfort, and roses, and wine. He lay on his back, with her in his arms, and he stroked her hair.

“So why were you there with him this morning?”

Smiling she lifted her head from his chest, leaning on her elbow. “Remember when I told you we had a lead?”

She couldn’t help glancing at her watch, anticipation and nerves building, as Belle waited for James to show up to her hotel room. She opened the door on his second knock, and tried not to let her disgust show as she watched him, look her up and down like a piece of meat.

“Come in,” she gestured for him to enter, watching as he zoned in on the freshly made bed in her room. ‘Jerk,’ she thought to herself.

“I must say I am in no way complaining, but I am flattered at the attention I am getting from you today. First breakfast this morning, and now dinner tonight.” He chuckled.

“Well I just couldn’t wait to see you again,” Belle said a slight grin on her face.

He glanced over at the small desk against the wall, picking up the ancient languages book, quickly flipping through it.

“So have you and Mulder made any progress on those crop circles?” He asked interest piqued.

“Oh yes, all thanks to this book. We were able to decipher the meaning of the patterns in the field.”

“Wow! That’s great. So it’s real then. You know I never really believed that whole hoax theory.”

“Oh, the patterns are very real, but it is most definitely a hoax. But then again, you already know that don’t you James?”

He looked at her with confusion.

“I have to say, leaving Mulder that book, it definitely helped your cause, but you left too big of a clue in it.”

“Really? And what exactly was that?”

Taking the book from his hand, Belle pulled the pages revealing the inside back cover. “This residue on the back of the book. There was something familiar about the shape of it, and then it hit me. That’s where the library checkout card and pocket use to be.”

Stone faced he looked at the page, not revealing what was going on in his head.

“Most libraries they have switched to a more electronic form, but one of the charms of these little country towns, is that they still use this paper form.”

“So it’s a library book, I don’t see how that ties to me?”

“Well it doesn’t, not exactly. See I called a few of the local towns libraries to see if anyone had checked out this book, and the thing is that it really isn’t that much in demand. Not a real page turner I guess. All the libraries I called didn’t carry it, all for one that is, the library in Elgin.

“R...Really…” James stammered.

“Yes, isn’t that a coincidence, as I recall you told me you use to live there. And funny enough the one copy that the library had was actually stolen from the stacks. I mean can you believe that. Someone actually stole this book, removed the card and pocket holder, and possibly used it as inspiration to form the patterns in the field, and then it somehow ended up at the doorstep of Mulder and I. The only two people in this town determined to prove it wasn’t a hoax.”

“I have never seen that book before,” James retorted.

“You weren’t expecting someone to confess to it being a hoax did you, James. The media, the attention was dying down, and you couldn’t allow that to happen, could you? So you left this book for me and Mulder so we would verify these crop circles. Bring attention back to Lochdubh; scream to the heavens, that it wasn’t a hoax but that the crop circles were still a mystery.”

“So if I am somehow causing these crop circles, have you forgotten the lights the people have seen over the lake, let me guess I’m somehow magically causing those as well?”

“Actually yes, you are. When Mulder and I went to the library, we were able to pull your library account, and imagine my surprise, when I saw that over the last 6 months, you had checked out quite a few books on drones.” As Belle continued to talk, the bathroom door opened, as Mulder and Hamish emerged into the room, both men holding drones in their hands.

“Where in the hell….how in the hell did you get those?” James blared out, seeing the familiar machines.

“Unofficially,” Mulder spoke. “While Belle here was so kind as to agree to take you to breakfast this morning, and keep you…occupied…I happened to break into your apartment, and find them in your guest closet, but officially….”

“Officially...” Hamish smirked, “I happened to be walking by your apartment, and could have sworn I heard a baby in distress in your apartment. So I had no choice but to break down the door, and found these drones, as well as these…” Hamish threw down a folder full of pictures and research on crop circles onto the bed, “in plain sight.”

“You won’t get away this, you can’t get away this.” James barked.

“Can and have,” Hamish quipped.

Bristling James sat down on the bed, bringing his hands to his face. “How can you stand to live here?”

His question was met with silence, and soon James walls came crashing down, as he confessed to the three of them. He spoke about learning of his father’s illness a year ago, and the stipulation his father was putting in his will about how James would receive the house, and storefront in Lochdubh, on the condition that he live there.

“Even in death, he tried to control my life. He couldn’t stand the fact, that I left this town when I was 18 and never looked back. So he forced me to come back here, leave Elgin, and live here, in this pathetic town where nothing happens! Do you have any idea how many people visit Stonehenge in a year? How much money that town makes on tourists?”

“So you wanted to make Lochdubh a tourist trap?” Hamish asked appalled.

“The entire town would have benefited from it. Millions of people coming in spending money on lodging, food, and souvenirs; busses coming to the town…it would be…”

“Awful,” Hamish piped in.

“Beautiful,” James countered. “We could all be rich.”

“So you cooked up this crop circle scheme just to get Lochdubh on the map?” Mulder inquired.

“I used the drones to make the patterns in the field. I copied the symbols I found in that book.”

“So the lights that the town people saw were…”

“The drones flying over the lake, as I positioned them.” James confessed. “The mist and moisture over the lake caused a distortion of the lights making them seem grander then what it really was.”

“Sounds like the mystery has been solved,” Mulder turned to Belle.

Sneering at Belle, James spoke. “So I take it our dinner date is off?”

Hamish moved next to Belle, placing his arm around her waist.

“Sorry mate, she’s already got plans.”

Mulder placed his last bag in the boot of his car. Turning he smiled, as Belle wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Have a safe flight back.”

“I will.”

Letting go, Mulder couldn’t help notice the natural glow of love surrounding her.

“So I hear the bureau already contacted you about another case.”

Nodding Belle smiled. “Yeah, I told them I was taking an extended vacation, but when they doubled my price, I was amendable to work on it…remotely of course. For being such a small town, this place has an amazing Wi-Fi connection.”

Turning his attention to Hamish, Mulder gave him a stern look.

“You better take care of her.”

“Aye, I promise.” Hamish smiled a toothy grin, bringing his arm around Belle shoulder.

Circling the car, Mulder smiled as he passed the two new headlights. As he pulled out of Lochdubh, the last glance he saw in his rearview mirror was Hamish and Belle kissing.

One Year Later

“Okay we can leave the 18th and return on the 25th,” Scully spoke looking at the airlines website. Hearing no response she looked up over the computer to see Mulder smiling, as he twirled Belle and Hamish’s wedding invitation in his hand.

“It’s amazing to think this happened because of me.”

“I’m pretty sure the court records show that everything happened because of James Spencer,” Scully scoffed.

“You know what I mean, she would never have been there, and met him, if I didn’t decide to go there.”

“Well as I recall, it was my phone call and my favor that had Belle heading for Lochdubh.” Scully raised her eyebrows in a challenge.

Raising his hands, Mulder smirked conceding to his partner. “Alright, alright, we both had something to do with the two of them getting together.”

“Next thing you know you’ll be asking them to name their first born after you,” Scully scoffed.

“Well now that you mention it…”

“You’re unbelievable, Mulder.”

“What? Having another Fox Mulder in the world wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Well, I did hear that they are thinking of getting a dog,” Scully smirked.

#minticetea #Rumbelle Secret Santa #anyelle #bellish #rumbelle

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