#the pirate bay shirt scene!

[luv-assangiebatch]

I wanted to draw a tiny Julian all full of piss and vinegar, so of course I chose THAT scene for inspiration!

#assangie #the fifth estate #benedict cumberbatch #comic #i gave him little shark teeth haha #cuz he's angry #favorite character #f/o #the pirate bay shirt scene! #tfe

[jeanbie]

WAYS TO SAY I LOVE YOU #2 ★ masterlist.

pairing: zeke x reader

genre: porn star au | warnings: sexual content, fem!reader | wc: 806

⏤ Imagine the first time they say I love you. Imagine it spoken at night, roughly, in the middle of an intense romantic encounter.

It’s different this time around.

It’s just two lovers on a scratchy, whitewashed blue bed-sheet, with the silence as their soundtrack.

The room is oddly cool, almost as if completely submerged under midnight waters, a draught carrying with a swooping gesture across the bareness of the bedroom. Well, it could be described as a bedroom; instead, perhaps just a room accompanied by a bed and a large lion-footed chester drawers with one or two shirts hanging from over the edges. A messy, rather sloppy sight that was overshone by the heat and the friction of the two bodies atop the double bed, the world theirs to take. A dappled light shone through the half-open curtains by a bay window, the blinds slanted with tasteless effort to close them moments earlier. It doesn’t feel like how it felt before; a blinding light cast down onto a pretty bed with unflattering drapes, the offbeat pop song that choreographed each movement of your partner. No sketchy, planned, rehearsed scene could even dare to live up to the feelings shared this night between two lovers.

His lips began to smother from the underside of your jaw down the smooth expanse of your neck, kissing tenderly at the highlights. Both lovers already bare, shivers coursing through their veins at every small collision their bodies made; his hands smooth across your thighs, his palms merely spreading them apart to accommodate himself between. Your neck, now but a canvas of bruising eggplant shades and red welts upon your collarbones arches back, and you sigh out in delight at the way Zeke explores your body like it is a treasure map- let him be the pirate.

At the absence of his clothes, Zeke pushed himself deeper inside of you, the safe grip on your legs hoisted up to fit around his waist being nothing but strong gestures of encouragement; a gentle squeeze told him not to worry but to instead, keep going, and so he did. 

His teeth move to graze at the juncture of your neck, whispering moans painted across your skin as his body moves like a wave in, out, in, out; a rhythm only you two can keep up with. He tries- you can see- to be gentle, the way a lover should be, but at the sight of seeing your mouth hanging agape, a pornographic groan erupting from the back of your throat, pride swallows him whole and naturally, he grows cockier and cockier by the second. Catching his lips with your teeth when he figures it’s ‘time’ to press kisses to your mouth, he growls– words caught dead on his tongue.

“Yes, baby, like that,” he praises, encourages, “just like that.”

His hands, shakily, move to hold the calf of your leg, adjusting himself so his final movements can be perfect. As the moon shifts at a different angle, and the light changes, you can see his hips falter and slow, shifting to a grinding pace and his hands move in a stuttery movement, callous palms rubbing across your skin.

“M’gonna cum,” he whispers. “Babe-”

“Let go,” is what you reply, lips ghosting over his own. “Let go, baby, let go, fill me–”

Who is he to deny?

The feeling of your stomach sporadically churning and tensing up, a line of sweat builds on your hairline as he keeps up his pace. Soon, he thinks, soon.

“I love you,” Zeke almost whines, “God, I love you so, so much.”

A groan elicits from your lips- “I love you, too- oh, my god, I love you–”

“CUT!”

The lights switch on, blinding you and almost instantly, Zeke falters to turn his head over his shoulder, staring at the crew with raised cameras and artificial lights, clipboards in hands, the small light flickering red.

“…thinking we take it from the third angle, again,” the director suggests. “Cut the love-ending, too, you’ve gotta keep your audience interested. Nobody wants to see a couple actually in love.”

Zeke nods, “sure thing.”

The crew begin to manoeuvre their gear around the set, chattering amongst themselves as you drop to a thud onto the sheets, disappointment evident on your features. At the sound of your breath slipping from your lips, Zeke looks over and gently- almost playfully- shakes your leg.

“Cheer up, babe,” he murmurs. In contrast to the porno, hearing him say babe just makes you feel more disappointed. “You did well.”

He leaves a fleeting kiss on your leg before letting it drop to the sheet where your body lies, and lifting himself up from the mattress. As the bed rises due to his weight moving, your chest sinks with even more disappointment. 

But you are the only one to blame- what a silly thing to do, falling for a guy you can never really have?

#zeke yeager #zeke jaeger #zeke x reader #zeke yeager x reader #zeke yeager smut #zeke yeager imagine #zeke smut #zeke imagine #attack on titan #aot #beast titan #war chief zeke #snk #snk imagine #aot smut #magunes #mine #jeanbie

[sirmatthew1972]

What is it with my muse jumping from one insane alternate CM universe to the next? How does one go from a vampire Hotch story into a pirate AU ficlet only to follow it up with panther!Aaron being kidnapped by shifter trafickers? Hell knows! Sure, I can claim that it’s whumptober... but me working on this insanity started in september. Worse, the fluffy and domestic scene that I had in my mind stems from long before it. Yet somehow little more remains of it then in the flashbacks of Aaron’s mind. Oh, you poor thing, suffering so beautifully. So defiant, but only human, well... shifter too. <insert evil cackle> But, as it goes, the joke is on me. Because now I am knee deep into the mess I have created for him... and I have so many more words to write. Almost three chapters finished thusfar. Almost. So where to now? Can I save him from the hunters and their sadistic leader before the end? Will I? Oh, I know where this is going, I think, but to get there is both the fun and the hardest part. ‘Cause I may have dug him and therefore myself in too deep.  👀 <stalks WIP fic like prey> Yeah, I’ll dig our favourite crime fighter out. Maybe! For Spencer won’t forgive me if I don’t bring his ‘Grumpy Cat’ home, injured or not. lol. Anyway, time for a teaser snippet of this WIP me thinks. Yes? So this is how trouble starts for Aaron, from where his life (and planned romantic evening for two) is going downhill into angst, darkness and pain...

~~~~~~

An unexpected steel dart jams itself through his woollen coat, suit jacket and dress shirt to burrow deep within the soft flesh of his abdomen. Sharp and intrusive. Alarmingly fast followed up by a second dart to strike his outer left thigh... then a third one in his other leg. Aaron stumbles under the blunt attack. Sinks to his knees even as he growls out his shock unhindered by decorum, for his inner panther unleashes itself so he can survive the attack. Or rather... it tries to... and fails to push the shift through. Because of how it too is no match for the cold mist spreading onwards from the air around him into his flesh, muscles, bones and mind... in that order too, or so Aaron realises even as he fast crumbles under the powerful drugs dosed to deadly precision. Hunters? Wildcat traffickers? On a final rush of adrenaline Aaron deducts his chances... and how quickly they are vaporizing into nothingness, because he can't even scream for help or lift a single finger anymore. Sure enough, the far too experienced hunters narrow into target, to him. Blurred shapes. Dulled male voices. Aaron can't make all of it out for he's falling into the haze of the drugs. Ketamine being the most likely culprit. Enough to bring him down, but not quite out yet, for his wildcat gene is stubborn enough to keep fighting it... and his profiler self agrees with its instincts. The longer he can witness what's happening around him the better his chances to profile the why, who and where. And so he pushes against the darkness to keep it at bay, but for how much longer can he? 

#matt rambles #my writing #panther!hotch au #shifter aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner #hotchreid #spencer reid #his grumpy cat #whump #angst #whumptober but not #snippet included #work in progress

[ashthehermit]

Legends of Tomorrow: A Retrospective 2.3

I was full of praise for the first episode of this season, but then I forgot how many growing pains it had.  It does feel like it has those pains all the way up to episode nine.  That's a guess, based on how well I remembered the episodes just from their titles and descriptions.  At least we get a lot of fun settings in the first part of this season, which the first season sorely lacked.  It's no season three yet, however.

This episode is where we start to see Legends get referential.  Later seasons will riff so hard off other media.  Season one did a little of this.  There was the Star Trek episode where they met the time pirates, and the terminator episode with the pilgrim.  But none of them were very good.  They had to lampshade their reference points in dialogue every two minutes, and never seemed to have any fun with them.  This will change.

SHOGUN

I'll admit, I don't think I've seen any of the films that this episode references.  As a concept, I don't love it.  It relies way too much on a white saviour narrative where Nate gets to save the day after literally falling from the sky.  When Nate was first introduced, I didn't love his character.  He was too similar in my eyes to characters we had already axed.  This episode didn't do much to allay my fears.  I was like, ah, a boring white man.  I changed my tune later, but as our first real Nate focused episode, I wasn't convinced.

We open with Amaya sneaking on board of the ship and taking out the legends one by one.  Nate stops her from killing Rory, which lets him show off his brand new powers.  He's got skin made of steel!  Yay!  I like that he's a little mad that Ray injected him with Nazi serum.  What a reasonable response!  Ray is ordered to train Nate.  The start of a beautiful friendship.  No one has any fun costumes in this scene.  I wait eagerly for any fun costumes like Zari 2.0 wears.  Everyone wears jeans and shirts in block neutral colours.  It does smack of them not yet knowing their characters, or at least, not being comfortable with having weird characters.

'Professional?'  'Ish.'

Nate and Ray have a little too much fun fighting in the cargo bay, and Nate falls out into the time stream.  Ray follows him, because he knows deep down that they are going to be best friends.  It does feel like that happened a little too easily.  Anyway, he lands in Japan in 1641, which he identifies immediately.  It is handy that the legends found a historian so dedicated that he had a base knowledge of every possible time period they landed in.  The point is that he replaces Gideon's knowledge of the timeline, as taken from the oculus, so I guess it's allowed.  Ray gets captured, while Nate gets picked up by a nice lady who seems not even sure that he was alive when she put him on the back of her cart.

Nate improvises a story about how he got there, and guesses where he is based only on looking at the field that he's in.  The nice lady is called Masako, and as soon as she was introduced I feared that he would sleep with her.  We cut to Ray, once again tied up by some bad guys.  

'United States.  Which you have never heard of, because it won't exist for another two hundred years.'

Masako gives Nate a bath, which he seems to think is inappropriate.  So do I, Nate!  Masako apparently is supposed to marry the Shogun, so now it's Nate's solemn duty to save her from her terrible fate.

Amaya and Rory squabble.  I kind of enjoy it.  Legends is best at creating odd duck pairings and rolling with them.  The pairing of Amaya and Rory is the first real one of these, in my opinion, and it was the best for Amaya's character.

Jax and Stein learn that the ship has a secret room!  You better check behind all those bookcases in the library.

The Shogun's men arrive to make sure no foreigners have been bothering Masako.  She is pretty good at fending them off, putting on a fake smile, being polite, and lying to them about how many Americans are currently in her house.  However, Nate simply must burst on the scene to save her.  It's particularly annoying, because for all intents and purposes, those guys were going to leave.  Nate fighting them only worsens Masako's situation!  Dumb boy.

'I wear my armour on the inside.'

Nate rightfully gets beaten up, because he has no control over his powers, or apparently his mouth.  He reveals that Masako doesn't want to marry the Shogun, and gets stabbed for all his efforts.  He's super lucky that he's not dead!  He really should be, owing to being a hemophiliac.  We were just told that last episode, and he's over it this one?  He later says that his hemophilia is completely cured, for what that is worth.  

Jax and Stein find the secret compartment, tragically not behind a bookcase.  Jax references lost, which is a flashback.  I genuinely forgot about Lost.

'If I've learned one thing from Lost, it's that you don't go opening secret hatches.'

It's sword fight time!  Thank god, that didn't last very long.  Sara and co find Ray, who has escaped (he's been tied up so much, you'd think he was getting good at escaping).  The gang immediately find Nate, despite not having any sign of where he is.  Nate gets up, despite just being stabbed.  He seems completely fine!  Your super serum didn't make you heal super fast.

The gang decide to prepare Nate for the fight and defend the village.  Except Rory, who just goes off for a nap.  Much respect, Rory.  Jax and Stein find that the secret compartment is an armoury which Rip hid from them.  There's also a messaging system, which has a voice note from our good friend Barry Allen.  It doesn't make any sense in Legends continuity.  The bit is that an older Barry contacts Rip.  Which shouldn't make much sense, as in the future, Barry should know that Rip is long dead.  Anyway.  We all know that this is just crossover fodder.  Legends is at its worst in the crossovers.

Ray coaches Nate in how to destroy his suit, using a very detailed straw man.  Did he halt training just to make that detailed figure?  Was he weaving armour plates from straw all day?  Anyway, he makes sure that Nate knows that this isn't just about his own heroism.  Nate is being selfish!  Ray is being super dramatic though.  It's ok, he'll make another suit simply because he can't possibly come to the crossover without his superhero outfit.  

'At the end of the day, Mick does the right thing.  Usually.'

Amaya tells us a little about her life, and her village Zambesi.  It's a lot of exposition, and it doesn't reveal as much about Amaya's character as it should.  It's telling how cool she is with the time travel.  The JSA accepted the existence of time travel because the plot demanded that they not dwell on it for too long.  Amaya doesn't marvel much at all she sees, nor is she weirded out by any of it.  She spends all her time being chill, or bothering Rory.  Of course, I like the Rory and Amaya bickering, but the rest of her character reactions are rather shallow.  She is friends with Sara almost immediately.  She has a lot of dialogue, but most of it is expository.  They never did as badly with Amaya as they did with Kendra, but they never did great with Amaya either.  Give me Charlie any day.

Masako's father gives Ray the armour he made for his son.  This family feels very strongly about these guys they've known for less than a day.  Plus, these people are fundamentally weird.  Why aren't they more weirded out?  Anyway, it's fighting time, for whatever that's worth.

Masako gets one moment of taking up her brother's sword to fight the Shogun.  She's easily defeated.  It does feel like a pandering moment.  Nate gets to save her.  Ugh.  Not that I needed her to be good at killing the Shogun, but that including it as an inconsequential moment isn't satisfying.  Masako rejects Nate, and then Nate gives her the sword, telling her to be the protector of her village.  Ray asks for their family name and has a moment that suggests he recognises it.  It meant nothing to me, so I looked it up, hoping it was another historical Easter egg.  No.  It was an incomprehensible Arrow reference.  Ah well.

'Why are you two goofy bastards so happy?'

And another thing.  As soon as Amaya is on the ship, she dresses in modern clothing in her down time.  Her costuming is similar in style to Sara.  She's got the leather jacket and everything.  They take Amaya from the 1940s, and she becomes a modern woman after one visit to feudal Japan.  She behaves much like a modern person.  Her language isn't any different.  Her wardrobe isn't 40s.  They do much better later, with Gwyn, in having a character from the past.  With Amaya they don't even attempt to show that she's from a different time period.  She arrives on the ship, and it's like she was born in the 90s.  Sure, she's not your typical forties woman.  She has superpowers.  She immigrated to America to be part of the JSA.  That's pretty special!  She doesn't behave like any of this happened, however.

Jax and Stein debate about what to do about Barry's message, which we don't know the contents of.  It's a tease, and I don't care a lot.  They fly off and there isn't really and ending stinger.  They need to find Rex's killer, but they've not got a place to start in.  Anyway.  Onto the next.

#legends retrospective #legends of tomorrow #dc's legends of tomorrow #arrowverse

[sillyman-inc]

DO U HAVE ANY KWAZII HEADCANONS PLS PLS

Oh yes I do.

Yes I do.

*mischievous laughter*

Okok.

I have a lot.

So buckle down for this.

Kwazii is trans (ftm), omnisexual (male pref) and catgender ! Also I hc he’s on the aroace spectrum as well (still can have attraction just rare basically). Since me too. And I kin this mf so. Self projection. Anyways goes by he/they/paw pronouns !

You’re gonna look at him and tell me he doesn’t have ADHD and dyslexia? /lh

I wanna say he’s like 5”5 and comes to shoulder height with Shellington and chest height with Barnacles.

Eye stuff:

He has heterochromea! The eye that’s always showing is a yellow and the one that’s covered up is a green :)

He has light sensitivity and sensory issues to his right eye (one that’s always covered) so he just keeps it covered and only takes it off when needed.

OH BUT ALSO. He sees this as somewhat of an advantage because in dark areas he’s able to see very well with that one eye and it doesn’t really hurt ! Actual pirates would wear eyepatches so they could see better at night so I hc he does this too (I stole this from my friend Miles, hi Miles if you’re seeing this)

Also cats cannot see very well. Like. At all. So I feel like he’d wear glasses or contacts.

I think he’s a medium fur haired cat. I don’t really think he’s a shorthair.

He is a tabby cat :)))

Broken humor.

He has insomnia and that’s why he falls asleep midst in missions so easily. Also he cannonically wakes up in the middle of the night to go do his thing while everyone’s sleeping. Like he sneaks out.

He smells like an ashy campfire with salt. Yeah.

I like to think his room smells like mint because mint scents actually help ward off spiders. Fun fact.

His uniform! I always draw him wearing an oversized one with the sleeves rolled up and there’s a reason for this and part of it is me self reflecting: he has sensory issues to tight fitting clothing, so he got a big shirt and he rolls up the sleeves just cause I feel like that fits him. Same goes for his pants.

He’s lost so much feeling in his tail. That tail has been smashed, stung, bitten, pulled, etc so many times. He’s just. Lost so much feeling in it.

Much like the barnacles headcannon: has a lot of scars but fur covers over a lot of it. Slightly different texture in areas though.

I like to think that the huge closet he has is also his de-stimulation room/area for when having overstimulation :)

He stims a lot. Like. A lot. Both verbal and physical.

Him and Tweak are best friends.

And Ik I said this in Barnacles one but him and Barnacles have a very much found brother relationship and have a little support system for mental health.

He’d be a really good dad. He’s canonically very good with kids and very protective around em

Actually has pretty low self esteem/confidence. He’s just loud. He reminds me of a very specific scene in LMK where wukong and MK are talking and Wukong goes “you need confidence” and MK just defends himself like “WHAT IVE GOT PLENTY CONFIDENCE!” And Wukong just goes “no you’re just loud.” And then MK just looks personally attacked and Wukong is trying to give him advice on how to get it and MK just replies with “fake it till I make it?” And Wukong just yells at him.

Anyways Kwazii reminds me of that scene in MK’s POV I don’t even know if that made sense but yeah.

So yk how earlier I talked abt eyes, ok so not exactly a Kwazii one but I like to think that the reason all the pirate stories are over exaggerated or close but off is cause once again: cats can’t see well. And all the pirates we’ve seen/have been referred to have been cats.

Is both a positive influence. And a chaotic one.

Mans would end up in the sick bay at like 4 AM.

They give me the vibes of someone who survives off of 2 hours of sleep, caffeine and pure chaos and the second he sits down he can and will crash.

Has really bad abandonment issues. Uh. Yeah.

Rejection dysphoria and anxiety. Cause me too.

Ok listen a lot of these are just me self projecting.

And now that I’m here I’m thinking I wanna add more to the barnacles one so. There should be more there if you guys wanna go see that. Yeah

Anyways.

Has probably bitten some of the crew.

He’s probably used very pirate-y terms to describe people and NO ONE on the crew know what he’s talking about so he has to translate. Like he’d say somethin like “He’s a Scrooge of the seven seas!” And the crew just looks confused and he just goes “he’s really violent.”

Speaking of pirate terms- I like to think he’s called inkling the quartermaster and Barnacles a coxswain :)

yeah.

I got these from dis website: https://www.pirateglossary.com/namecalling

Also some of these terms do point to suggestive topics so you’ve been warned prior to looking.

Anyways, he likes drawing and painting :) I say this cause he painted the gup B and. Yeah.

I like to think he knows how to flirt but it’s a very silly/dorky way. /pos I mean he CAN. Be smooth but. I like silly.

Angry catboy.

I definitely have more. But I am bombarding this post and I feel like most of you have stopped listening by now so uh. Yeah.

Anyways Here’s a doodle I made of him a bit ago :) he has a neck.

Bye byeee

#octonauts #the octonauts #kwazii #kwazii cat #octonauts fandom #headcannon

[subbing-for-clones]

Stranded Part 2

Savage Opress x Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Mentions of death and decomposition, mental illness, fear terror and FLUFF

PREVIOUS         NEXT          MASTERLIST

       Savage's eyes fluttered open to the sun shining brightly through the trans-durasteel panes that decorated the walls seemingly without rhyme or reason. The little one was frying some kind of thin meat strips on the stove and sipping hot caf. Without turning her head, she called over to him.

"How ya feeling?"

"Not great but better."

She turned and strode over to him, still laying down.

"I couldn't do this yesterday but I can today."

"What do you mean..?"

    She placed her hands on his bare broad chest and closed her eyes. A warm tingling sensation wafted over him. It felt like sunshine, utter joy and flying all at once. When she pulled away her eyes were a little fuzzy.

"It takes a lot of energy but you can transfer your life force to something and heal it. I was kinda low yesterday," she turned matter-of-factly back to the stove.

    Savage had only ever had painful experiences when it came to using the force or having it used on him. He hadn't ever thought of it as anything other than a weapon. He wanted to ask about it but shy away from the topic. Instead, he stood and stretched. He didn't have an ounce of pain. This woman who found him once again amazed him.

While the two unlikely pair ate their breakfast, her eyes didn't leave him, slightly squinting.

"You haven't been like this very long?"

"No. I was altered by the witches of my home world."

"Huh. Did you ask for this?" truly curious she stopped eating.

"No." she cocked a brow at his response, waiting for an elaboration.

"My species is subservient to our women. We live separately and go through deadly trials to be chosen by one for breeding or whatever they want really." He continued eating as the information he provided was simply normal for him.

"Was this..." she waved her hand at his body. "For breeding?" his cheeks slightly tinged in a deeper gold.

"No. I was chosen to act as a weapon for one of the sisters. She abandoned me when I didn't live up to the expectation." the woman noted as his eyes darkened. Wanting to change his mood she lightened up.

"Well, I'm happy you're here Savage. You have much to learn in the ways of the force.. you're strong but your energy is incredibly dark but you... you do not feel that way....." she trailed off in thought and muttered, "certainly an enigma. Very interesting," she tapped her finger against her chin.

    Savage's heart fluttered. He had never received any kind of praise from a female before and he didn't really know how to process it. His flush only deepened when she once again undressed in his line of sight, slipping on a shorter, loose grey dress.

"When you've finished, dress and meet me outside,” she skipped out the door and shouted something unintelligible into the trees.

    Savage silently hoped she wasn't completely insane while he quickly washed the dishes for her. He pulled on his pants and his long black kilt. Remembering that she had cut off his shirt for a sling he huffed and left the tattered remnant. When he came out, he saw what could've been a scene in a holovid. She stood with under a ray of sunlight, skin shimmering in the glow with a bright smile gracing her face. Her hands were pressed to the forehead of a green Varactyl while a dozen small song birds of every color fluttered around her.

"I think I should call you 'princess,'" he stepped forward cautiously.

She giggled melodiously.

"Mira here won't hurt you I promise. You think I look like a princess?" she flushed and batted her eyelashes.

"More than anyone else I've ever seen."

She extended her hand out to Savage.

"Come here," she cooed. He slowly made his way to her and took her hand. It was soft and warm, she held it for just a moment, running her thumb over his knuckles.

"Do not be afraid. Mira is a friend," she placed his hand where hers was just a minute ago on the Varactyl's head.

"Close your eyes and reach out to her with the force. Gently."

    He stood there for a minute before he felt anything. All of a sudden it felt like wind was rushing around him. He could see trees flying past him and a breeze danced against his skin. He leapt from trees, gliding through the air.

    She watched with satisfaction as his and Mira's eyes were closed and their breathing synced slowly. She felt their signatures meld for a moment. Savage pulled his hand away and looked at her wide eyed but grinning. Mira chirped happily beside him.

"Good, you made the connection. Rather quickly I might add. Mira is a receptive one. Very friendly. She's been with me a couple years now."

"I...I felt what she feels when she hunts," he was smiling at the creature fondly.

"Yes, that seems to be a favorite time for her."

"That felt much different than any other time I've used the force.... was that the light side?"

"I'm sure the Jedi would say yes but I am no Jedi. I don't see the force as light or dark."

Savage looked confused. Everyone called the force light or dark. The woman continued,

"Take a knife for example. In the wrong hands... a knife can take an innocent life, used to rob someone or threaten them other ways. However, in the 'right' hands it can be used as a medical instrument, carve wood or simply chop produce. I think of the force in the same way. The intent is what matters to me. Did you want to hurt Mira when you reached out to her?"

"No..no I didn’t," he stammered.

"That’s why it felt different."

    Savage understood what you were saying and turned back to Mira. The animal nudged him gently with her head affectionately.

"Let's go for a ride. I wanna finish stripping the ships you landed on. I haven't been to those ones yet. If you have anything else there, now’s a good time to get it."

    The woman strapped large bags onto the sides of the Varactyl. She hopped up onto Mira's back and once again extended her hand out to Savage. He climbed up and took his seat behind her. When Mira lurched forward, he gripped the woman's waist tightly so he wouldn't fall off and she laughed.

"Hold on tight handsome it's not a long ride but it's a turbulent one."

"A-alright princess."

      The added weight did nothing to slow Mira down. She was light on her feet and graceful. Leaping high into the air and gliding back down into the canopy. Princess whooped and cried out in excitement whereas Savage just held her tighter. His chest swelled with the rush. He was terrified but also having fun. He was a little disappointed when it ended and the ships were in sight. He slid off first and held his hands out for the princess. She beamed down at him and let Savage lift her by her waist with her hands on his shoulders. Her breath hitched when he pulled her down to him to set her on the grass underfoot. Quickly turning away to hide the heat rushing to her face.

"Alright, anything you wanna take, toss it in the bags. I'm gonna look through some of the others.”

    They parted. Savage always traveled light so he didn't have much to take with him. Some extra med gear and clothes, that was it. He hesitated in the cockpit looking down at the talisman that Mother Talzin gave him. It lay in pieces. He exhaled a silent apology, acknowledging that he probably wouldn't find his brother anytime soon. He slipped the pieces gently into his pocket and made his way out. After securing his few belongs in the saddle bag on Mira, he turned around to look for the princess. He could sense her nearby but couldn't see where she was.

"SAVAGE!"

He ran back to the hazardous pile of crashed ships.

"WHERE ARE YOU?"

He sighed relieved when she popped out behind his transport smiling ear to ear. His heart still pounding.

"It’s not huge but there's a Kriffing cargo ship buried under your transport and a fighter. Help me lift them. Cargos are gold mines."

    She stood shoulder to shoulder with him; well, shoulder to rib. Both of their arms were raised. It was shaky at first but they managed to move Savage’s large transport off to the side with the force. The fighter was much easier to shift. She grabbed his wrist and cried out excitedly, pulling him along to the sealed door.

"Could you cut it open with your saber?"

He smiled as she watched him ignite his saber and cut through the thick durasteel.

"Yes! Cutitopencutitopencutitopen!" she chanted excitedly and squealed.

Once he kicked the obstacle out of their way she shrieked and dove practically head first inside. When he entered, he was hit with the heavy scent of death. Four Weequay bodies lay scattered and half rotted around the cargo bay. Savage covered his nose with a disgusted look on his face.

The woman however didn't seem bothered by it as she sifted through the containers.

"This was a pirate ship... I haven't seen many of those," her whole top half was inside a rather large container while she spoke.

"Usually lots of credits, jewelry, spice.... not really useful to us right now but if we ever make it out of here, we'll be rich." He made his way to the sleeping quarters and took the standard med gear and hygiene supplies that was fairly standard to each room.

    When he came out, he found her pleasantly surprised as she held up some lovely dresses in bright colors to her form.

"I think I can tailor these to fit..." more thinking out loud than actually talking to him. She walked deeper, into the cockpit and tried to fire up the engine to no avail. She didn't have hope, it looked like they nose-dived into the ground anyway. She sighed and checked the common area.

    Rations, some cook ware in better shape than hers was, liquor... other odds and ends that would be decently useful. Savage found her holding a Sabacc deck.

"Do you know how to play?" She asked coyly?

"Yeah... some of the other nightbrothers taught me when I was a pup. Do you?" She shook her head.

"Well, I'll show you. We can play together." Her face lit up and something warmed in his chest that he'd never felt before. He pointed his thumb back towards the cargo bay.

"I found something you might be interested in.." she followed him; arms full. He fiddled with a small electronic box and powered it up.

"It won't connect to the net out here but it looks like there are some downloaded holovids,” he turned back to face her. She had dropped everything she was carrying and stared at him in amazement.

"I...I've never seen a holo-player out here before," he smirked.

"Well princess if you can charge it, we can see what's on it."

    The two of them loaded up what they had onto Mira. Princess did a thorough once over of the other ships. Finding a blaster with a decent amount of charges was the second best find next to the holo-player. They found a few sewing kits, more rations and med kits, and some crop seeds which also excited her.

They had ended up spending much longer than she wanted to searching through the wreckage. The sun was starting to set and it was falling fast.

"We need to get going. It gets dangerous at night... things come out.." she shifted uncomfortably on her feet looking up into the trees. Mira let out a quiet warning chirp. Savage lifted her up and put her on the Varactyl's back, climbing up behind her. This time when he held her waist it was more protective.

"I think I can sense them... what are they?"

Mira took off but it was slower, more cautious than when they came here to begin with.

"I don't know.. I've never seen them clearly. I know they have two arms, and three long sharp claws. Their hide is tough and... very rough. No fur.."

    Savage held his saber in one hand, not yet igniting it. He could see in the dark but these creatures still hid. The sky was a deep, dusty blue as dusk swallowed the atmosphere. It felt different at night. Like the air was hungry.

"I will keep you safe," he said as his eyes darted around. Once they broke the tree line it was only a short distance to the cabin. They unhooked the bags from Mira and she dashed behind the house up the barren hills, as far away from the forest as she could get. Savage and princess walked into the house.

"I've never seen them leave the forest. They've never come out of the trees into the clearing so the house and the yard are safe as well as the hot springs and hills behind us. Savage nodded in understanding.

"Stay here," his voice rumbled, "I'll fetch wood for the fire."

    She nodded before he left with his weapon in hand. Princess started putting away their various findings and set some rations out on the table. They were going to have to go hunting again tomorrow. She felt his shift in the force. Fear had a particularly unique wavelength. She took the blaster and right before could get to the door he kicked it open with his arms filled with wood. He hurried inside, dropped the wood and latched the lock. His face was blanched.

"Are you alright?" she asked slowly reaching for him.

"They just stood there. Behind the trees. Watching."

"You have night vision?"

He nodded and looked down at her.

"I... I’ve never seen anything like them. So.. gangly. Tall and.." he shuddered and shook his head, controlling himself. If she lived here for so long it was safe but when he turned back to face her, she had regressed.

"Beasts in the trees....." she still stood but her eyes were blown, her arms crossed over her chest; trembling.

"Beasts in the trees...." she repeated

He quickly gathered her up in his arms and sat on the bed. Her terror radiating off of her. He shushed her softly and rocked gently. With a finger under her chin, he tilted her face up to his.

"Come back to me princess," he whispered soothingly.

"It’s alright, you're safe. I will keep you safe. I've cut down bigger and scarier things in my life. My planet has a rancor infestation. I have you. It's alright," he continued to whisper and hold her until she came down. She splayed her hand on his chest over his hearts. Their strong beat acting as an anchor. She buried her face in his neck. Her breath hot on his skin.

That warm feeling pooled in his chest again. He ran his fingers across her forehead, swishing away the hair that had fallen over it. She finally pulled away to look into his eyes.

"T-thank you Savage... I don't know how much longer I could've lasted alone out here. I feel like I'm breaking as soon as the sun goes down." He thought about his next words carefully as he stroked her cheek.

"My people live in darkness. I have lived with and fought against its terrors all of my life. I swear to you I am strong enough to keep you from harm. Today I found myself... almost glad to have crashed here. Because of you, and what you can show me. But, mostly you princess," his face was hot. She pressed a tender kiss to his cheek.

"We should eat. You especially. I imagine you're starving. The rations aren't bad with the hot sauce I found," she smiled coyly at him.

    They ate in a comfortable silence. This time he watched as she slipped off her dress out of the corner of his eye. A feeling of want tingling under the surface. When they crawled in bed together, she wrapped her leg around him and lay her head on his chest. Listening to his hearts beat while he held her close to him.

She stayed like that all night and for the first time in years, she slept through the night.

#savage x reader #savage opress x reader fluff #savage opress x reader #savage fluff #savage opress #savage #swtcw au #star wars #force sensitivity #force sensitive reader #stranded #swtcw #fluff #x reader

[kadywicker]

detailed giffing + basic coloring tutorial for beginners

so a lot of gif/coloring tutorials are pretty outdated or not that detailed & i wanted to put my own out there! in this:

how to get the screencaps for your gifs

how to make a general gif

basic coloring (no psds here, it just gives you a basic idea for making colors pop and look nice. you can look up how to use psds, but i prefer making my own for every gif as it’s much more personal, gratifying, and creative. there’s nothing wrong with using psds as long as you don’t claim them as your own, it’s just not my personal thing)

how to save a gif

we’ll be going from this:

to this

what you need:

photoshop (cc 2019 is what i’m using, but this works with any version of photoshop really as long as you download a version with the timeline feature) i won’t add download links here since i don’t want this deleted, but you can look some up on tumblr or use the pirate bay (current url is pirateproxy.blue as of 4/29/2020) & follow the instructions there.

for windows: potplayer/kmplayer (both use literally the exact same instructions) this tutorial uses potplayer but kmplayer uses like literally the same instructions, it just doesnt work right on my computer

for mac: mplayer. this tutorial does NOT cover this so find a tutorial on tumblr on how to take screencaps with mplayer & then skip to the “how to make a general gif” section. though, again, i’m on a pc so i have no idea if this is entirely accurate for mac.

if you’re downloading from youtube: clipconverter 

if you’re Definitely Legaly torrenting: utorrent + the pirate bay (again, current url is pirateproxy.blue as of 4/29/2020) or another torrent site + you should really consider getting a VPN when torrenting (i use privateinternetaccess but you can find one that suits you)

note: download an adblock of some kind, disable automatic downloads on your computer, & download an antivirus program if you want because some sites are sketchier than others! this is ESPECIALLY crucial on sites like piratebay. keep your computer safe babes.

1. screencapping

there’s several ways to get screencaps on photoshop, but this is the easiest imo and i’ve never done the whole convert video frames to layers thing. like i said, you’ll need potplayer or kmplayer. i’m using potplayer. important note: don’t accidentally download viruses here! read each screen carefully & make sure you’re not hitting accept to download any secondary programs.

1. download your .mp4/.mkv. you can go to youtube & find a clip/scene/whatever and use clipconverter to download it. just make sure you download it at 720 (or higher) as anything lower than that will give you a poor quality gif. you can also download using somewhere like the pirate bay, but for this you need utorrent & i would HIGHLY recommend using a vpn if you live in a country where torrenting copyrighted content is illegal, as your internet provider may flag your ip address if you don’t & you torrent too often.  

2. download potplayer/kmplayer & get it set up

3. create a screencaps folder. i always put mine on my desktop. in your screencaps folder, make a folder for however many gifs you want in your set. i just have one for mine so:

4. open up your .mp4/.mkv

5. hit ctrl + g to bring up the screen capture pop-up & set your settings to these. click the button w/the three dots next to the storage option & select the folder you created for your first gif

6. navigate to the scene you want to gif. when you’re there, pause it and hit the start button on the consecutive image capture screen, then play the video. how many screencaps you need depends on the size of your gif. for larger gifs (so like 540px wide gifs), you’re probably going to want to keep it below 30 frames. for smaller gifs (268px wide or less) you can maybe stretch it to 60, depending on how much coloring you add. you can always delete screencaps later though in photoshop, so don’t worry about it too much. for this gif, i only had 17 frames because the scene was really short lmao

7. go to your screencap folder you made & delete any unnecessary frames. it’ll look like this:

8. repeat the process for any other gifs, making new folders in your “screencaps” folder, numbered for however many gifs you’re making. make sure to change the folder you’re loading the images into on the image capture pop up though so they don’t all go into folder 1. 

2. making a simple gif (+sharpening)

1. first, you need to load your screencaps. when you open up photoshop, go to file > scripts > load files into stack

2. when the window pops up, switch the “file” option to “folder”

3. click browse and find your screencap folder for your first gif (in my case, desktop > screencaps > 1) once it’s all loaded, click “OK”

4. it’ll take a minute to load all your screencaps into photoshop. when they do, go to the upper bar on photoshop > windows > timeline

5. when the timeline bar shows up, click “create frame animation”

6. hit this button and click “make frames from layers”

7. hit the button again and click “reverse frames”

8. click back onto your first gif. then select the rectangular marquee tool and set it to whatever gif size you want. the width for 2 small gifs next to each other is 268px, the width for full size gifs is 540px. most people use 268x150 px for gifsets of 4+

9. use the marquee tool to select what area you want for your gif, like this. it’s up to you how to crop it! get creative!

10. go to image > crop

11. now that your image is cropped, go to image > image size. change the size to your desired gif size (in this case 268x150). hit “OK”. then make sure it’s zoomed in to 100%

12. now, you COULD just save this gif, but they look way better sharpened. so you need to convert this to a smart object. to do so, first select all your layers in the righthand layer window. to select all the layers, click on your top layer, hold shift, and scroll down to your bottom layer & click on it as well while still holding shift

13. next, you need to select all your frames. go back to the options button from part 6 > select all frames

14. next, we’re going to create an action to make your life 100x easier when it comes to sharpening gifs in the future. to do so, go to the actions icon (may look different on different versions of photoshop, but basically just find the actions window)

15. create a new action with this button. name it something. i named this one “sharpen tutorial” and hit “record”

16. click this button to convert to video timeline

17. go to filter > convert for smart objects

18. go to your single created layer and right click and click duplicate layer. this helps get rid of the transparent border around the gif.

19. go to filter > sharpen > smart sharpen & use these settings

20. go to filter > blur > gaussian blur. set it to these settings.

21. go to your second layer with the filters on it & right click on the gaussian blur filter to select “edit smart filter blending options” and set the opacity to 50%. you can mess around with this for different levels of sharpness. the closer to 0%, the sharper your gif will be.

22. hit the stop recording button on your sharpen action. now you’ll have an action to use next time you make a gif! after you’ve followed all the steps 1-13 you simply go to actions, click on your saved sharpening action, and hit play instead & it’ll do steps 14-21 in a few seconds. here’s a pic of the stop button on the actions window

23. our gif is now sharpened! you can end with this & skip to the saving a gif section, or you can continue to coloring. here’s what we have so far.

3. coloring

now on to coloring. this is pretty basic coloring and it probably won’t work if you follow my numbers exactly, as every single scene is different color + lighting wise. but this is just an example of the kind of thing you could do. basically, if you’re making vibrant gifs, you want to up the brightness + contrast + vibrance and make the colors already present pop. if you want anything more complicated (pale gifs, changing the colors to make, say, quentin’s shirt in these gifs red instead of blue), you’ll have to find other tutorials or experiment on your own. learning how to color & finding your style takes time! you can download psds if you want, but imo those kinda take the fun out of making gifs? that’s just me though. 

after each step, i’ll show you what the gif looks like.

1. i usually start with a curves layer. i usually don’t mess with the color curve options, just this one:

2. next, i do a brightness/contrast layer

3. next, i do a vibrance layer. make sure not to make it TOO saturated or it’ll look bad.

4. next i do a color balance layer. this is where it really starts differing depending on what color you want your gif to be.

5. next we move to the selective color layers, which are arguably the most powerful. here you can make colors pop, change colors, etc. it’ll take lots of practice & messing around with, but here’s what i did with this gif. this one is making yellow + blue pop

6. next, i did two more selective color layers editing the blue tab to make the blue pop even more

7. i still wasn’t quite happy with it, so i added another selective color layer to edit the blacks + neutrals + greens

8. for good measure, i added one more brightness/contrast layer

9. and the gif is done! however, you can play around with various adjustment layers until you’re happy. again, this is just an example of how to do basic coloring. it’s a skill like any other & takes practice. to keep consistent coloring in a gifset, 

9b. you may want to make a psd of this coloring. to do so, you need to put all your adjustment layers in a folder, delete your frame layers, and click file > save as. save it as a .psd. then you can open it and drag it onto any other gifs you make, adjusting the coloring accordingly but still with the same vibes. you don’t have to do this, but it makes life easier. here’s how to use your saved psd, though obviously you’re using your own in this case and not a downloaded one.

4. saving your gif

1. on photoshop cc 2019, you go to file > export > save for web (legacy). for other versions, you can just go to file > save for web. use these settings. the gif size limit is 3mb per gif, so make sure your file size is under that. if it’s not, you’ll need to delete some frames or some adjustment layers.

2. now, photoshop is a bit of a pain & this gif timing will not be right. so you need to open your newly saved gif. then you hit this button + select all frames

3. click this button & select “other”. tumblr gifs are typically .05-.08. my photoshop is glitchy and i have to set mine to .1-.15 or they’re WAY too fast. but usually, go with .05-.08 unless yours ends up glitching too.

4. save it like you did the first time and ta-da! you’ve made a gif!

#gif tutorial #photoshop tutorial #edit tutorial #coloring tutorial #yes im using the magicians its my hyperfixation and i get to choose the gifs

[chromatic-lamina]

heart crew tatts–uni, clione

Okay, I’m up early so I’m gonna work, but am also seeing the very warranted love for Heart Pirate tattoos out there, so gonna post this excerpt from one of my fics. It might be a bit difficult to understand out of context, cos it’s post-canon and divergent, but I have the popular fanon (for fanfic’s sake) of a lot Law’s crew being ex-slaves (works for fanfic), and in this scene there’s a gathering of Aladine (ex-sun pirates and ex-slave), and Koala (ex-sun pirates, ex-slave) on Law’s submarine for revolutionary shenanigans, but it’s really about the tatts. 

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Aladine wasn't sure what was going on. Law's crew was respectful and quickly dropped heads in a bow, or squeezed his shoulder, as they passed. Or Jean Bart squeezed his shoulder. Even Bepo was a third the merman's size.

"What's that all about?"

Koala shot him a look. He didn't know? She stood up from where they sat in the mess, and inclined her head toward the door. Aladine rose. He towered over her. She hadn't grown much across the years, but she was healthy and strong.

They exited from the loading bay. No way Aladine could get down that hatch. On the top deck the crew scrubbed, mopped, mended and sweated as if the Polar Tang usually sailed on top of the water. Okay, some were just exhibitionists.

There were few crews as heavily tatted as Law's. The Sun Pirates had ink of course, but the Hearts were inked all over, then wore boiler suits hiding it away. Shachi was skilled with design and many wanted to copy their captain. For others it was the practice of their homeland, and the rest just liked tattoos.

(Clione is not a nudibranch, but wished he was. Source after the cut).

"You think I need to work out?" Aladine asked.

She laughed. Most likely. "Look closer."

"Sabo doesn't mind you ogling?"

She punched him. She knew fishman karate. Despite their size and strength difference, Aladine felt it through his brotula tail. He might not be covered in scales, but it was still as tough and flexible as Teflon. 

"Look closer."

"Hey, Koala." A crew member walked past and the tip-of-the-finger salute to Aladine was almost a forelock tug. Merfolk had excellent eyesight, otherwise he would've missed it. Resting, Aladine's tail curled a few times, and his height dropped a metre or so.

"The Celestials would say a lot of capital was gathered here. Stolen property," Koala said, rubbing at her back where the Sun brand still warmed her skin.

"Fisher Tiger freed them?"

"Nah. The mark'd be different, but the idea's the same." Ah. Well, not everyone joined the Sun pirates, and not everyone who did was an ex-slave. And not all had been held by the Celestial Dragons, though Jean Bart's design was familiar. He focused more deeply.

"Like what you see?" Uni sauntered past, his t-shirt removed and tucked into the back of the boiler suit. The boiler suit was zipped open to his hips and loose from his shoulders. He carried a sack of flour (to keep out of Captain's sight) over one shoulder, and one of rice over the other. Sea urchins, inked in at the centre, spines interlocking and projecting outwards in monochrome mandalas, covered his right lower back.

Clione hit him with a clipboard. "What're you saying that for?"

Cheap to hit him when he couldn't strike back, Uni thought. He rolled his eyes and they kept on their path. How'd Clione get the auditor's job? "It's what they say in those stories when someone likes your body." He threw a cheeky look back across his shoulder. "When you're hot, y'know? And you know it."

Clione elbowed him. "Got your sights set on Aladine-sensei now?" It wasn't like Uni had much to show off anyway, despite what he thought.

"Seems he's got his sights set on me." He didn't work out for nothing.

The fishman doctor finally noticed as the two tried to squeeze into the door at the same time. To a landlubber, Clione's designs, swimming around his upper arms, and circling the left of his lower back, might appear to be summer dragonflies buzzing from one puff of air to the next.

But Aladine recognised them as nudibranchs lifting and settling in the ocean's currents, and more specifically, the poisonous blue dragon which had very little to do with the sea angel sea slug from which Clione drew his name. Both scared off predators with poison they drew from others though. They were clever creatures.

His designs were monochrome too, the ink darker as the dragons swirled the centre of the mark on his lower back. Uni dropped the supplies against the wall of the elevated room of the loading bay, and both men pulled on their t-shirts for the cooler temps of the sub. Cooler at that time. It got damn hot in that tin can when it was under water.

Ah. Aladine understood. Though it didn't seem Law had any fishmen on his crew, anyone who came to the new world obviously had experience with them. Law's hadn't been so pleasant he guessed. A shadow of annoyance — and was it hate? — crossed his features when he'd asked Law of the merfolk or fishmen he knew.

Not all humans were good either. He got that. Knew Law was rational enough to not let experience become a personal dictate. He had saved Jinbei.

That’s from a pretty dark fic, so I won’t link, but I hope you enjoy. My AO3 is in the header of this blog.

Pic: From: Sylke Rohrlach from Sydney, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #heart pirates #trafalgar law #koala #uni #clione #aladine #polar tang #opfanfic #op fanfic #heart pirate tatts #my stuff #my writing #chromalami #not showing up in tags #why? #national geographic hearts

[greekowl87]

Fic: A Different Road

A/N: This was originally a prompt but I had trouble with the formatting and accidentally deleted the anon request. The original request: “Can you write an AU where Scully is pregnant throughout IWTB? How would that cheek brush scene with Agent Whitney go down?”

 I tried, anon. I didn’t want to set this up as a scene by scene for the entire movie so I tried to imagine it as a series of missing scenes/essential ones. I hope you like. P.S. I got the lines from the transcript from Inside the X. Thanks to @gaycrouton for the beta and @peacenik0for letting me pick her brain with this prompt. Retagging (sorry) @today-in-fic @suitablyaggrieved @baronessblixen

In the early morning hours, Scully awoke to Mulder gently caressing the small swell of her stomach that just started to show a month ago. “Good morning,” he whispered, kissing her soothingly on her neck. “How’s the little one this morning?”

“We’re good,” she whispered, snuggling against him. She turned her head to meet his kiss. “Daddy needs to behave because mommy has to work.”

“I know,” he whispered. She could hear the sadness in his voice.  Their relationship had been rather strained over the past few years but she hoped this unborn child would mean something more. “Will you be late tonight?”

“No, I’ll be home around four.” She yawned as his hand snaked further down. “Mulder.”

“Come on, Scully, I can be quick. We can be slow later.”

“When the baby comes, we won’t have much time.”

“Well, it will give me something to do since I’m stuck here at home all day.”

This was a touchy subject between them and they tried not to bring it up. “I have my 21-week sonogram in two weeks. Would you be willing to risk it? Come out with me and see it?” She broached the subject carefully. “I want you there this time. I don’t want it to be like last time.”

William’s bitter memory.

“This won’t be like last time,” he whispered. He kissed her again. “I’m here. Nothing is going to happen to me or him.”

“You mean her?” She challenged him. Let them believe. “What do you think?”

“You want a girl?”

“I just want our child to be healthy and happy.”

Mulder smiled. His hand sunk lower. She clenched her thighs. “This is good for the baby, right?”

“And the mommy.” She whispered breathily. “God, I wish you would shave your beard.”

“Quickly?”

“Hmm?”

She was lost in the wave of emotion as he whispered softly in her ear, kissed her, and continued his work. “We have a future,” he whispered. Repeating this between became a mantra. “We have a home. We are safe. And, we will have a child. We’ll have a family. Everything’s perfect.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she confessed as her body released its tension. “I can’t lose you again. Not again.”

“You won’t. I promise.” He kissed her. “No, go get ready. I’ll go downstairs and get you breakfast.”

Mulder got up to leave her and she stared out the dark window. Despite everything, they had a future.

* * * * *

Work was lousy. Father Ybarra got under her skin, her cases were bothering her, and that FBI agent. All Scully wanted to do was go home and cuddle with Mulder. But then again, that was tumultuous as well. As she drove back to her home, two things played in her mind: the Fearon case and the FBI agent asking about Mulder. The FBI agent struck her the most and it hit the most tender nerve. How did they know? Could they come and take him away from her all over again?

After she pushed open the gate to their property and drove up to the unremarkable house. She hoped Mulder wasn’t isolating himself again when she got home and she played with the idea of not telling Mulder but...what was his name? Agent Drummy? A fellow FBI agent’s life at stake. That had been her once. She decided to make up her mind. She would tell him.

* * * * *

Scully’s mind was racing. Father Joe. Dealing with the Fearon case. She touched her baby bump as a reminder of the present. This wasn’t like it was with William. Mulder was alive. They no longer had to face the dangers they had in the FBI, chasing the darkness, and Mulder was here with her. But her was still a fugitive And they had a home where they could live out their life.

Throughout the day, she had done her best to keep the case at bay and focus on Christian Fearon, but he had gotten to her. The poor child reminded her of William. William. The mere thought of her, no, their lost son, sent her into panic mood. She cried in her office, sending her office mate running away. The pain of their lost son and their unborn child became too much for her to handle. It took all her will to try and keep herself together as she finished out her shift for that day. 

She stopped off at a pizzeria and picked up a half pepperoni, peppers, and mushroom pizza. Near the pizzeria, there was a RedBox. In a snap decision, she picked a film, Pirates of the Caribbean: At the Edge of the World. That would be just perfect; something to distract them from all this craziness. She just hoped Mulder had cold ginger ale for her.

She balanced the pizza and DVD to the passenger side of the car. Her phone was ringing. “Mulder?”

“Scully? Are you on your way home yet?”

“I was just picking up dinner. Are you okay?”

She could hear the same passion that he used to have when he would call her with a new case. Her heart twisted and a flash came back from the past. She remembered how he rushed off to the oil rig with Doggett. She almost lost him. Again. How close was she to losing him again, especially now that he was working with the FBI? “I’m great, Scully. I can’t wait to tell you how the case went!”

“Mulder,” she warned. “I don’t want to hear about it. Not right now.”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled. “No work.”

Work. She cringed inwardly. “I got dinner.”

“Pizza. Our pizza? Pepperoni, mushrooms, and peppers?”

“What else? I also got a movie.”

“I got our ginger ale,” he said in a sing-song voice. She smiled. Ever since they learned she was pregnant again, he did everything to make her feel comfortable, including giving up alcohol. “Movie and pizza? Just like old times?”

“Just like old times.”

Scully drove home and smiled to see the lights on in their home. Mulder was on the porch to greet her. He jogged down the stairs to help her. “I got you,” he called.

“Mulder, I’m pregnant, not an invalid.” She got out of the car. He trapped her against the Ford Fusion and smiled. “Mulder!” She laughed.

“I missed you.”

“I know,” she whispered.

The passion was electric. Instead, Scully leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck in a hug. He smiled into her neck and embraced her. She breathed deeply. Mulder rubbed her back and whispered, “Are you okay?”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” she whispered. She pressed her forehead against his. “It’s been a tough day.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He kissed her brow and continued to hold her. His hands ran up and down her back. “Scully?”

“Movie and a pizza? I just want to relax,” she murmured. “It’s been a tough day.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He massaged her shoulders gently. “You go inside and get changed. I’ll get dinner ready. Thank you, Scully.”

“For what?”

His hand went down and gently caressed her small baby bump. “Everything.”

“You won’t ever stop doing that, huh?” She smiled and kissed his cheek. “I’ll get changed.”

Despite Mulder still being considered a fugitive, she had never been happier. She pushed the FBI case and the Fearon child to the back of her mind for the time being. She changed into her purple silk pajamas and when she came back downstairs, the smell of fresh pizza wafted through her nostrils. “God, that smells so good.”

“Pirates of the Caribbean? Really, Scully?”

“Amuse me.” She touched her belly instinctively as she sat on the couch and Mulder smiled. “Give me my food.”

“You are so beautiful. Sit, my queen and I shall deliver it to you.”

Scully sat down on their couch and sighed. Mulder carried two plates and two cans of cold ginger ale. He gave her a plate and set the drinks on the coffee table. “Ready?” He asked, grabbing the remote.

She nodded, her mouth was already full. He smiled and set his own plate down. Scully automatically curled up next to him, still eating her pizza. Mulder draped a blanket around them and she snuggled closer. “This is what I imagined all those years ago, Mulder. When I was pregnant with William.” She yawned and burrowed her face into his soft shirt, leaving greasy stains. “Moments like this.”

“This is what I wanted too.” He glanced down at her and pulled her long red hair out of its messy bun. “What?” she murmured. She pressed her face into his chest to hide her yawn. “Mulder?”

“I like your hair down,” he whispered.

His fingers ran through the long tendrils of her hair and she hummed. The pizza was ignored and Mulder, as much as he wanted to make sure she was okay, chose to enjoy this moment. As the climactic fight sign in the maelstrom was about to begin between the pirate ships, Scully was cuddled against Mulder, with a blanket pulled up to her knees. Her eyes were growing heavy and more than once she caught her dozing off. He smiled and caressed back her hair. “You and baby ready for bed?” He whispered.

“Movie,” she whispered.

“We can finish it and our pizza tomorrow. And the movie.” 

Scully sighed and nodded. She grabbed his hand and ran it over the small curve of her swollen stomach. “Do you feel that?” She whispered. She was half asleep. “We did that. We did this.”

Mulder nuzzled her hair and breathed deeply. He could only imagine what Scully was going through. With the case, he felt himself being pulled under the lure of mystery again, but he didn’t have Scully with him. He couldn’t do this without her. He remembered her lingering gaze in Richmond and her reluctance to take the case file. As much as he wanted to spar with her about theories, he felt it would do her more of a burden than anything. As his hand traced her stomach, he tried to imagine what it would have been like with William. But he had now. He could feel her pregnant belly, now just showing. Their child. “Our future. Our present.” He kissed her. “Are you ready for bed?”

She nodded into his shirt and stifled a yawn. “Let me get up.”

“No, I got you.” 

Mulder scooped her up into his arms and she signed contentedly against him, her eyes still closed. She hummed in contentment. “I wish you were there the first time, but you’re here now,” she said again.

Scully, in her semi-awake state, hummed again. While she missed being able to go out with Mulder, one of her favorite things about his isolation was his exercise regime. She could swear he was fitter than when he was in the FBI. 

He carried Scully up the creaky stairs. She turned into him as he eased her onto their bed. He bent down and kissed her cheek. She hummed again. “Where are you going?”

“Get ready for bed. Be back in a few.”

Mulder changed into a pair of blue sleeping pants and stripped off his tee-shirt. He stared at himself in the kitchen mirror. The overgrown beard and shaggy hair struck a chord with him. Never before had he let himself go that far. But this case was bringing out the old Fox Mulder; the one who chased monsters in the dark with Agent Scully. Except, Scully was a different person. He closed his eyes, wishing she was there with him today with Father Joe. He shook his head and pulled at his face. Despite being 46 years old, and now as an expectant father, he wished he could do more. The case weighed on his mind but then Scully...his hand running over his unborn child, that was his reminder.

“Mulder?”

“Coming.”

He turned off the bathroom light and crawled into their bed. Scully turned into him and whispered, still half asleep, “Hold me?”

“Is this what pregnant Scully was like?”

“Hmm?”

“When you had William.”

“I missed you, day and night. I wished you were there every step of the way. I would dream of you holding me, doing what you do now.” She blinked sleepily and smiled. “You’re here now.”

Mulder enveloped her and whispered, “I’m here now.”

“Arms,” she commanded.

“Yes, ma’am.” Scully cuddled next to Mulder as he held her. Her brain was still racing despite being half asleep. She nuzzled his chest and his hand automatically went to her abdomen. “I’m here now, Scully. Sleep.’

* * * * *

In the early morning hours, Scully had freed herself and found herself wide awake. She rolled over onto her right side and pulled their comforter close. Thoughts flooded through her head: the Fearon case, the FBI case, Mulder…

There was her own maelstrom raging inside of her. Having Mulder work for the government again, with the FBI no less, it bothered her. She remembered the morning she had taken her pregnancy test out of a hunch. Then she remembered telling Mulder. He cried. He held her and cried.

But that was the least of her worries. She used to imagine when she was pregnant with William the picture-perfect ending that her and Mulder always deserved. But this new, unborn child, she began to second guess herself on everything. A child was supposed to make things better but she was tired. She was tired of running and hiding with him. She just wanted him back in her life. She wanted a happy ending. They deserved it. She sighed as Mulder’s hand slid down her thigh and he kissed her. “I can feel you thinking.”

“I'm sorry, can't sleep.”

She felt Mulder’s breath deeply behind her neck, lift his head, and rest it along his cheek. She shivered as his arms came around her again. She sighed again and instinctively took his hand and placed it against her pregnant belly. He kissed her again. “Actually, I have a little something for that.” 

She felt him nudge her, his length gently brushing against her behind, and tightening his arms around her. She laughed. “Just a little something?”

He smiled. “Thank you. What's the matter?”

Scully pulled him closer. “I have a patient. A young boy with a rare brain disease and he's very, very sick.”

“Why haven't you told me about this before?”

She whispered in defeat, “I thought there was something I could do.

“There's not?”

Years of working with Mulder, just being with him, making the choice to make him her life partner taught her how to believe. “Well, there's radical treatments but nobody wants to talk about those. Even the experts say there's nothing to be done. Nothing but let him die. So I'm lying here cursing God for all his cruelties.”

He hummed, nuzzling her. “And do you think God is losing any sleep?”

“Why bring a kid into the world just to make him suffer? I don't know, Mulder, I've got such a connection to this boy.” 

“How old is he?” He caressed her pregnant belly as a reminder to himself of the present and that he was here now. “Scully?”

“You think it's because of William.”

He took a deep breath and held her closer so Scully could feel it. She closed her eyes in response. He brought her hand down to rest with his on their unborn child. “I think our son left us both with an emptiness that can't be filled. But this moment, Scully, right now. We have a second chance. Just go to sleep. Let me curse God for a while. I won’t let you go. By the way, we’re gonna a girl. A little girl just as smart as you and clever as me.”

She smiled sleepily. “Thank you.”

They kissed and Mulder teased her by rubbing her beard into her cheek. She laughed and tried to turn away. “Scratchy beard.”

“I’ll shave it for you this weekend.” Scully smiled as they settled back down to sleep. “Try and get some sleep, Scully. You need it.”

“Oh,” she blinked before sleep took her, “There was something weird on that toxicology report of the severed arm.”

“What?”

“I looked over the FBI evidence reports again, and in the tissue, there were traces of a drug that's commonly given to patients being treated with radiation. And also traces of a drug called Acepromazine.”

“Why is that weird?”

Before she could drift off to sleep like this but she whispered, “Acepromazine's an animal tranquilizer.”

Mulder let her go and sat up in bed. She shivered at his lost warmth. “Now I can't sleep.”

“Mulder?”

He stormed into the bathroom and switched on the light s on either side of the bathroom mirror. He stared at himself and spied Scully behind him. Scully’s heart was racing. She recognized this Mulder and it scared her. He was the edge of something and she knew what would happen. “Mulder…”

“What is animal tranquilizer doing in the tissue sample of a man's severed arm?”

“I can't even begin to speculate. Mulder, please, come back to bed.” She appeared behind him in the doorway. Maybe she could talk some sense into him. “Mulder, please.” “He said he heard barking dogs,” Mulder explained. He was lathering his face with shaving cream and Scully felt her gut twisting. “What?”

Scully braced herself against the doorway. “Who?

“Father Joe.’

He took out his razor. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

He looked at her in the mirror and saw her worried faced. “Is it a tranquilizer that you might give a dog?”

She sighed, trying to consider her words carefully. Scully couldn’t lose him again. He was the edge and she could see the same passion and fire that she fell in love with erupting again like a sleeping volcano. “He's a phony, Mulder. He pulls these so-called visions out of thin air, and now he's got you straining to connect them.” “When I see a man cry tears of blood at a crime scene he recognizes without ever having visited, I need to go out on a limb, you know what I'm saying?”

“I do,” she pressed. “Mulder…” She remembered their cases where her faith was challenged. It was challenged now. “Tears of blood?” “Yeah, some trick, huh? How do you fake that?”

In the distance, her blackberry phone was ringing. As she left him, Mulder continued to lather his beard. She rushed out to the hall to grab her phone. She glanced at the fish tank that had survived Mulder’s apartment, hers...her mother kept it while they were on the run, now it was back. She remembered watching it the night she fell asleep after the Buddhist temple. All signs lead her to him and this path they would take together. The phone kept ringing. She hit the green button. “Hello.” It was Agent Drummy. “Hello, Dr. Scully?” “Yes.” “I have Dakota Whitney for you.”

Scully could hear the phone being switched to someone else. Her heart was clenching; this was all too familiar. Agent Whitney came on the line, “I'm sorry to call this hour.”

“Has there been a break?” She asked; probably more than needed too.

She could feel Mulder loom over her. She wished it was under new circumstances. Mulder pressed, and she asked, “They find her?”

“We're pursuing another lead.”

Scully sighed inwardly. “The same source.”

“The same source. New news,” Agent Whitney confirmed. 

She could feel Mulder and she answered briefly, “We’ll be there.”

“Scully, who was that?”

“Agents Whitney and Drummy. There’s been a break.”

“We gotta go.” He still had shaving cream on his face and she closed her eyes, feeling tears. “Scully? What is it?”

She grabbed his hand and pressed it against their unborn child. “I may have trauma, I acknowledge this.” Her voice was becoming worse. “But I can’t lose you again. Not again. I won’t loset you to this.”

It never crossed Mulder’s mind to think about the trauma she felt when he was abducted. “You won’t.”

“Go shave,” she whimpered. 

Scully needed to sit down. Her head was spinning and heart racing. She stumbled to the bed and tried to breathe, placing a hand on her heart. He watched her and felt his own heart race. Scully...their child. He shaved quickly, cutting himself in the process. She could feel his gaze and could feel his unspoken communication; he couldn’t go there without her but he didn’t want to hurt her anymore with the darkness. “Scully,” he called.

She came, like a beckoned ghost. “I can’t do this, Mulder. Not again.”

“I’m still here.”

“I can’t lose you,” she whispered. She took his hand and pressed it against her stomach. “We can’t do this…”

Mulder held her and his own tears burned his eyes. “Scully, you’re not going to lose me again.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “We can’t.”

“I cannot go there without you. Come to the shower so we can get ready.”

You’ve done plenty without me, she wanted to say but she let him lead her into their shower. Mulder’s lips were on her, tasting her collar bone before the water even turned hot. He pulled her in and went to town.

Against the steam from their shower, things were left forgotten. She curled her arms around his neck tightly. He touched her stomach and whispered. “I haven’t forgotten,” he murmured into her ear. “You and baby Scully are what’s the most important.”

She hugged him closer. “I should wash you,” she whispered.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “I wanted so badly last night.”

“Your stamina is impressive,” she chuckled. A brief distraction. Another band-aid over their overgrowing wounds. His eyebrows waggled. “Mulder!”

“I shaved.”

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to shave?”

He was already on his knees in front of her. “Scully, never forget, you and baby Scully are number one, especially you. No FBI, no Agent Whitney, no one or nothing will ever change that.”

She felt tears as he kissed her mons. “My one and what...six billion now? I can’t keep track of fast the world grows but you are mine. Mine alone.” She braced herself again their bathroom’s slippery walls. His magical tongue worked wonders that only she would witness. After a few minutes, her knees began to weaken and Mulder eased her down on top of him. “We could,” he whispered.

She brushed his smooth cheek. “We have a three-hour drive.  When we get home? I’m off tomorrow.”

“You are?”

She nodded. His back got the brunt of the shower of the hot water as his hand brought the sponge up her back. “I’m not dirty,” she whispered in reverence. “And yes. No work tomorrow. You and me?”

“And the baby makes three.”

“Baby makes three.” She brushed his lips. “Let’s get ready. I’ll drive.”

* * * * * 

Three hours later, on the snowy roads, Scully drove herself and Mulder to the crime scene. There were already snowy roads and Mulder would have volunteered to drive, but he knew he was in capable hands. But as they arrived at the barn of the crime scene, there were lights, FBI jackets, and police everywhere. Scully found herself trying to breathe deeply and Mulder daughter her hand. “They aren’t taking me,” he told her. “Not again.”

Scully parked the car and nodded. It took a minute for her to park as she tried to draw in deep breaths. “Like old times, Mulder?”

“Just like old times. We got this.”

They squeezed each other’s hands as they exited the Ford Fusion. Like old partners, they emerged in unison. Scully stood there for a moment and tried to breathe. This was too much. This was too familiar. Mulder came to her side and claimed her hands. “We got this,” he whispered. “We, Scully. We got this.”

She nodded and tried to drum up the old Agent Scully that rested in her.

“One more time. Ten minutes!”

Agent Whitney’s voiced stormed over the snow. Scully took the lead as she slammed her car door “Did you find her?”

Whitney shook her head. “No” The agent stared at Mulder in a way that made Scully bristle inwards. She grasped his hand but it went unnoticed. “What did you do?”

Mulder arched an eyebrow. “What?” Agent Whitney peeled off a piece of toilet paper off Mulder’s cheek. He winced away and Scully surged forward putting herself between him and her. “Don’t touch him. You said there was news.”

The possessiveness that came from Scully made Mulder recoil as if he was in Agent Whitney’s possession. He squeezed her shoulder. “It’s okay, Scully. It’s okay.”

Agent Whitney was clearly caught off guard by Scully’s reaction. Mulder’s hand instinctively covered her stomach and the agent saw the gesture. “I apologize. The news is our psychic led us to the exact same site he led us to before.”

“The same sight,” Mulder pressed.

Whitney led them away and both followed to where Father Joe stood, smoking a cigarette. Agent Drummy stood by. The father smirked. “You’re going to find it.

Drummy replied, “You keep saying that.”

Father Joe reminded him, “You're going to find a body.”

Drummy was annoyed. “You keep telling us she's alive.”

“She is”. Drummy turned to Agent Whitney. “We can’t do this all night. These guys’ are running on empty.” Over the snow, Whitney looked at Mulder and Scully. “I'm sorry for bringing you out here.”

Drummy shouted, waving his arms, “Hey, let's go, fellas. Bring it in. Let's go. Bring it in, gentlemen, time to go home.”

Mulder began to follow Father Joe, leaving Scully behind. She reached for him. He shed her off like a forgotten piece of clothing. “Tell me. Tell me what you see,” he exclaimed.

Father Joe whispered, “I see a face. I see eyes staring out.”

“Who? Who is it?”

“It's unclear. Like through dirty glass. It's out there, I know it.”

Suddenly, Father Joe dropped his cigarette in the snow and walked forward. It was as if something was calling him. Mulder followed, twisting his head to ask, “Scully, what does he mean like through dirty glass?”

“Mulder,” Scully tried to calm him. “Mulder, please.” He stopped.”What.” She reached for her hand and resisted placing it on her stomach. “Stop.”

“Okay, just feel free to give up like everybody else.” Scully huffed. “Mulder, that’s not it Wait a minute! Mulder!” She was furious. “This is not my job anymore, Mulder. It’s not yours either. We don’t do this anymore!”

“No, that's right, that's right, you're just like my booking agent now, right?”

She was stung by her comment. “You're right. This is my fault.”

“What do you mean, it's your fault.” He could hear the hurt in her voice. “Scully?”

“For getting you involved in this, Mulder.” She turned away. She felt the cold freeze her tears.

“No, no. It was the right thing to do, Scully,” he tried to console her. He started to walk in the direction of Father Joe. “At least I can do something.”

Blame being pregnant. She took a deep breath and shouted, “This is not about finding an FBI agent. This is about you trying to save your sister.”

Those words stopped him and he turned to face her. “My sister is dead. You want to play this game, Scully?” Oh, he was fighting to hurt her; she recognized that. “I’m doing this for you. Our child.”

“And we’re doing that shit all over again!” She shouted. FBI agents looked at them and Scully shielding her face. Mulder came closer so they could talk more intimately. “It hasn't stopped you from looking for her. Mulder, I have been through this too many years with you, believing you can save her. You cannot save her, not now and not ever.”

“But I can save you.”

“Mulder, I’m right here! I am right here in front of you!” She cried. “I’m right here!”

She watched him observe Father Joe walk across the snow. Mulder became Agent Mulder in front of her. He looked past her and called, “I need those men back!”

Agent Whitney, not looking particularly happy, signaled the search team back into action. Scully was devastated. “What are you doing?”

“I'm trying to ignore you.”

“Why, Mulder?”

Mulder stalked away towards Father Joe, Scully followed him, jogging the last stretch. They reached a snow-covered clearing. “This is it! Here it is!” Father Joe cried. He dropped to his knees to scoop acway the snow and to her surprise, Mulder joined him.“This is it.”

Scully watched, her heart wrenching feeling it happen all over again. Just like William. Just like this new unborn child. Yes, he was here this time but she was losing him just like she had before. She watched him dig through the snow. “We need shovels,” Mulder called.

The agents swarmed to clear the snow as Father Joe and Mulder stood to clear the way. Amidst the frenzy, Mulder glanced at his partner. They’ve always excelled in unspoken communication. A mere glance told Scully all she needed to know. She blinked away her tears. Suddenly, the agents hit something.

“It's solid ice,” Agent Drummy stated Mulder scraped at it with a shovel. Scully could feel her heartbreaking. “Mulder,” she whispered.

“No, it's dirty glass,” he called. He quickly demanded a flashlight. “Flashlight!” Underneath the snow they uncover the head of the missing FBI agent Monica Bannan. Mulder got up, shaking his head. “You're going to need resources.” Mulder walked away past the FBI agents and Scully, without saying another word. She reached out her hand uselessly before it fell to her side. Agent Whitney called, “We need equipment. Concrete saws and a backhoe.”

Drummy echoed, “You two get in the line. You come with me.”

Scully watched as Mulder walked off. Her worst fears were coming true and her heart was breaking. She closed her eyes, trying to contain this new pang. Suddenly, Father Joe was standing behind her. She sensed this and twisted around to face him.

“Don't give up.”

Scully shivered at his words. She tried to dismiss them as she stormed back to their car where Mulder was leaning the hood of their car. “Are you ready?” He asked shortly.

“Mulder,” she bit her lip. “I’m…”

He shook his head. “Let’s forget about it, okay? I’ll go to Quantico in the morning. Let’s go back home so you can get some sleep.”

“Mulder, talk to me!” She demanded. “Anything!”

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“You hurt me,” she cried. She was long over hiding her emotions from him. “Mulder!”

“Can we talk about this in the car?” He asked, striding over into the passenger side.

In the car, she started it and lowered the radio. Mulder sighed and tented his finger in front of his face. “What the hell was that about?”

“Is this healthy for the baby?”

“What? My pent up aggression? My anger? No, it isn’t, Mulder! Like you give a damn!”  The last line came out of her mouth from a lifetime ago. “You didn’t give a damn on that oil rig when I had William, why would you care now? I thought things had changed between us! You promised me this wouldn’t happen again.”

She smacked the steering wheel in frustration. “And Agent Whitney? Why the hell does she get to touch you let that? She’s not your partner? I am! You’re mine!”

“Excuse me?”

Scully wasn’t done yet. “This isn’t like the old days, Mulder. I am not your booking agent! I am your partner. I am going to have your child in the next few months. Does that mean nothing?” 

She was crying. Fuck pregnancy hormones. “Scully,” Mulder whispered.

“I can’t lose you again,” she whispered. “Not again.”

There it was. Her heart left unfiltered. She gripped the steering wheel tightly. Mulder calmly peeled off his gloves and took her hands. He took her gloved hands and took them off.  “I haven’t forgotten, Scully.”

Her eyes were red with tears.

“Let me drive home.”

“I can’t. You’ll get caught.”

“Let me take care of you.” He held their hands and breathed into them. “Let me take care of you and little Scully.”

“Like you give a damn,” she spat.

Mulder eyed the FBI agents in the distance.”You’re right. I missed a lot last time but I promised this will be different.”

“It’s not,” she snapped. “You are running off for the FBI. What about the family you have here?” She gestured to her stomach. “I fucked up on William but we’re having another child, Mulder!”

He cupped her cheek. “You didn’t mess up on William. I wasn’t there. You’re right. I didn’t give you any choices. I’m sorry, Scully...I’m so sorry. But William is safe.You did the right thing.”

“Did I?”

“Let me drive, Scully.” Too tired and she nodded. Scully was so tired. Between work, the FBI case, and their child...she was so exhausted. Mulder kissed her brow. “Come on.”

Scully and Mulder switched seats. In the process, Mulder shed his jacket. Scully tried to pull on the safety belt uselessly. Mulder draped his jacket across her. She twisted to the side. “You’re still here, Mulder.”

“Where else would I be?”

“I thought you would go somewhere. I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

“You won’t.”

She closed her eyes, tears racing down her cheeks. Mulder secured his jacket around her and clicked the seatbelt. He pushed back her hair. “Sleep, Scully. I’m not going anywhere.”

“This can’t be happening again, Mulder,” she whispered. “I won’t accept it.”

“I’ll drive us home,” he whispered.

Through sleepy eyes, Scully watched him readjust the seat and reverse and put it back in drive. “Tell me a story, Mulder,” she murmured.

He nodded and sought her hand. “Well, there once was this brilliant doctor…”

“Real story,” she whispered.

“This is a real story. There was a brilliant little redhead doctor.”

“I wasn’t little.”

Mulder shifted the car gently onto the snowy roads. “You are but that blazer contested otherwise. So,” he gazed at her, never letting go of her hand as her eyes got heavier, “a brilliant doctor came in and shook my hand. I knew then I was in love. And I was. I have never known more completion. I had met my other half and I knew right then, I would never leave her again.”

“Then one day, the doctor saw a vision from God and knew that in all things, she had made the right decisions,” she mumbled sleepily. “I have no regrets, Mulder. I want you to show me again when we get home.”

Mulder chuckled. “For you or the baby?”

“Both.”

“When we got home. Are you warm enough?”

“Perfect.”

“We’ll be home in a jiffy.”

Mulder drove Scully back to their home. As the snow continued outside, he never let go of her hand as he drove. Eventually, they came back to the unremarkable house. She was fast asleep when they got home. Mulder caressed a piece of hair from her face. She whispered his name. Mulder, feeling emboldened, parked their car and went to the passenger side. He unhooked Scully’s belt and picked her up effortlessly. She snuggled closer to him. “I got you,” he whispered.

“Love you,” she whispered.

Mulder closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. “Love you too.”

“I’m sorry for what I said, Mulder. I didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t mean what I said either. You aren’t my booking agent,” he whispered.

“What am I?”

“My partner,” he corrected. “Mother of my child. My other half. Let’s get you inside.”

The snow was falling heavier around them. He picked her up into his arms and kicked the door closed. With some effort, he opened the screen door and to the main entrance to their house. Scully whispered, “I can walk.”

“No woman of mine needs to walk on these common grounds.”

She giggled. “I have to go to bed somehow.”

“I can undress you.”

She smiled into his neck.”I can walk upstairs. Lock up down here and join me in bed.” Mulder set her down effortlessly. “By the way, I’m not complaining about your new workout regime.”

“I’m glad,” he called, double-checking the first floor to see if everything was walked. He heard her kicking off her boots, marching up the stairs. He glanced up at the ceiling and took off his jacket. “You want anything?”

“You!”

Mulder chuckled and kicked off his shoes and jogged up the stairs. He came to their bedroom and saw Scully dressed in her lavender pajamas, her pregnant belly swelling slightly. “What time do you have work tomorrow?”

“Noon,” she yawned.

Mulder took off his shirt and his pants. “Where did I put my sleeping pants?”

Scully smirked. “In the corner. Come back to bed, Mulder.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“No. You did hurt me though,” she whispered.

As Mulder changed back into his sleeping pants, he bent his head. “Scully,” he called. He held out his hand. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she whispered.

She went to him with open arms. Mulder’s heart broke as he embraced her tightly. Locked together, she nuzzled his chest. He wanted to touch her so badly. She took his hand and ran it against their unborn child. “This is our future, Mulder. I can’t and I will not lose you again.”

“A girl,” Mulder whispered into her ear confidently. “Baby Scully.”

“You want a daughter.”

“I want a healthy child with you. That’s all.”

She shivered against him and he rubbed her back instinctively.  She shivered. “Let’s get back in bed. I’m freezing.”

“Fresh snow.”

“And I get to drive in it tomorrow.”

“We got about nine hours, give or take before noon. We have more than enough time for sleep and some other stuff.” Mulder eased her back onto the bed. “I’ll be more thorough tomorrow night, okay?”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Scully’s mind was swimming. Her hormones were so much worse than with William. Mulder laid next to her and pulled her close. He kissed her neck. “How do you want it, Scully?”

“Slow.”

“Let’s get beneath the covers.”

Beneath their comforter, Mulder planted his back against her. She snuggled against him and brought his arm securely around him. Mulder took off her purple silk top until all she wore was that tank top and her pants.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured into her shoulder. “Scully.”

She tried not to think of it as pity sex. “Show me,” she encouraged him

Mulder whispered, catching her lips, “This is just a preview.”

His hand and fingers snaked downwards. “You promised this morning you would get back to me.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Scully wanted to be on top but the dynamics of her pregnancy caused difficulty. Mulder’s muscled chest pressed into her back. “I wanted this so badly, Scully,” Mulder whispered. “I wanted to be there in the beginning.”

“You’re here now,” she whispered. “That’s all that matters.”

“Let me love you,” he whispered back. “I’m sorry for earlier, Scully.”

She twisted to face him. Gently, Scully traced his face. “You aren’t Agent Whitney’s partner. I don’t like the way she touched you,” Scully said. She forced him to look at her. “She doesn’t know you like I do.”

“Let me,” he murmured. He rolled Scully onto her back. He caressed her swollen stomach. “You’re right. You're the mother of my children, born and unborn.” He kissed down her neck. She tried to move but his powerful arm stopped her. “No. I’m going to have my way with you. I saw how possessive you were with Agent Whitney.”

“I won’t share you with anyone.”

“I know,” Mulder whispered. “I don’t expect you to. But you are also afraid of the FBI taking me. They won’t. It’s okay, Scully; we’re going to be okay.”

He kissed her mons through the silk pajamas. His thumbs hooked around the waist of her hips pulled the silken purple pajamas down. He breathed deeply. “God, I love you, Scully.”

“How much?”

“Enough to come back from the dead.”

“Mulder, don’t talk like that. Please.”

“What do you want?”

She lifted the blanket to see him. “Make love to me.”

“How do you want it?” He emerged from the blankets. “You were awfully possessive. Do you want to be on top?”

She nodded. “On your back.”

Mulder chuckled. He slipped off his own boxers and pants-dropping them over the side of their bed. Scully stripped away the rest of her clothes. Against the cold air, she moved to straddle his waist. Mulder breathed deeply and whispered, “Light?”

“I want to see all of you,” she whispered.

Mulder grinned and told her, “I’m not complaining.”

His long arm turned on his lamp and Scully started to grind against him. “What was it like? With William?”

“I missed you,” she whimpered. “I missed you every single moment.”

“Now?”

“Mulder,” she whispered, “it’s three o’clock in the morning. I have work in nine hours. I’m pregnant, tired, and I want you to fuck me. I want those good hormones for me and our baby so I can sleep.”

“Our baby,” Mulder repeated, memorized. He rested his hand on her stomach. “Our child.” She was naked on top of him. Her swollen belly in front of him and he caressed it reverently. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for William, Scully.”

“Mulder, no more talking. I just want to feel you. And our daughter is keeping me up.”

“We’re having a girl now? Wha happened to my son?”

“I’ve decided I am not giving you a choice this time around, consequences be damned. You’re coming with me to the sonogram,” she told him sternly. Carefully, Scully guided him into her. “And I want a girl.” She started to move slowly, enticing his response. “We’re going to have a little girl.”

Mulder smiled, seeing her confidence. “Come on, Scully, let’s play doctor.”

She chuckled and bent forward to kiss him. “I love you,” she murmured. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he murmured.

She took him into her 

* * * * *

It was three o’clock in the morning by the time she got home. Between Fearon’s surgery, her fight with Mulder at the hospital, Father Joe having his seizure (don’t give up?), and now Mulder abandoning her like he used to early in their partnership. She called the hospital when she pulled up her car, telling her to not expect her until the afternoon. As she climbed the stairs, she unlocked their house’s door. She saw a light from his downstairs office beneath the door.

He was home but he just didn’t want her.

She felt like her heart was stabbed and she clutched her chest and then her swollen belly. Her child...no their child. She remembered with William..everything came down to it to that. She thought she was alone and now, she really was alone.

Scully locked the door behind her, and with tears in her eyes, she climbed the wooden steps up to her bedroom. Their bedroom, she corrected. It might as well be their bedroom. What did she do wrong? She remembered the nights in her Georgetown apartment, crying herself asleep of the loss of him and the future they had together. Now, she had tears in her eyes for the same thing.

Downstairs, he must’ve heard her coming up, because she suddenly heard the stereo in his office turn up loudly. She heard Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young play with “Teach Your Children Well.” 

She screamed her frustration into her pillow and the music went up louder.

Scully cried all the more. What had caused this? What did she do? How did she mess this up? She touched her unborn child...was Mulder even a part of this? Again? She bawled her fist and rammed it against the door. She screamed in pain, not feeling anything similar since he first died. Instinctively, she grabbed her unborn child and went to the bed to cry. Then the music turned off.

She ignored and nursed her brushed hand. Scully flexed it, believing she should still be able to perform the next surgery in the afternoon. She changed into one of Mulder’s old t-shirts and an old pair of running shorts. She crawled into bed.  She hugged a pillow. She could imagine herself being much more pregnant and going through this ordeal alone, all over again. But, like a shadow, he came.

“I’m here, Scully.”

He surrounded her and she continued to cry.

She tried to push him away. Her eyes burned from crying. 

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t lose you again. I can’t do this again alone.”

“I’m right here.”

“Are you? Raw and uncut, her words came. “The FBI robbed us. They took you from me. I can’t have it happen again. I can’t survive it again.”

“What do you want me to do? I have to do it because no one else can.” Mulder was silent, knowing what she referred to. Carefully, he shaped his own body so that he could cradle hers. “I’m right here. I’m not leaving you again.”

“That’s not our job anymore, Mulder. I’m a doctor and you’re…”

“Go ahead,” he nodded. He looked at her dejectedly. “Say it.”

She took his hand. “I need you to be a father. We didn’t have this last time. We can have it now.” She sniffed. “We could do that now.”

“How? I’m not a free man,” he said. “That one of the reasons why I’m doing this. I want us to have a life. It’s not just about the life of that FBI agent. I see what this does to you. I want us to have a life too.”

“Do you?”

“What does that mean, Scully?”

She was quiet, drawing invisible patterns on his arm. “Can I speak without upsetting you?”

“Sure, he answered uneasily.”

“I want you to seek help,” she murmured. “Mentally, Mulder. This isolation isn’t good for you.” Her shaking head touched his temple. “If not for me, for the baby.”

Mulder sighed and nodded after a few minutes. “I’ll make a call in the morning.”

She smiled, the tears still stinging her eyes. “Thank you.” Her tears stained their sheets. Mulder took her hand and kissed her. She shied away. “I’m not fucking this up a second time, Scully. I haven’t forgotten about you our little Uber-Scully.”

“You left me today.”

“You said you needed to focus.”

“I don’t want to lose you to the darkness again.”

“You won’t.”

She turned her head slightly and found his lips. “I want you not to forget me.”

“Why would I?”

Carefully, she drew off her cross and dangled it in front of them. “I want you to wear it.”

“Scully.”

“Please?” She whimpered. “I don’t want you to forget.”

He nodded.

Scully turned to face him and held up her necklace between them. Mulder shook his head and delicately put it back on her. “I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“I feel like I’m losing you all over again.”

“You’re not.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I’m frustrated with the case.”

Scully traced his features and he nipped at her finger playfully. She smiled sleepily. “What used to make us happy?”

“Just focusing on us.”

Mulder turned her gently, lingering on their unborn child. “Can I tell you a story, Scully?”

She nodded. He freed the pillow and threw it behind him. He breathed deeply, trying to expand his chest as much as he could. She closed her eyes and pulled him around her. “Do you remember when we just clicked? I fell in love with you on our first case.” He gave a throaty chuckle. “After you marched into my office. The motel room. Do you remember asking for me to check you for mosquito bites?”

She relaxed with him around her and replied, “Tell me your version. In mine, I saved your ass.”

Scully’s voice began to get sleepy.

Mulder flexed. She giggled. “I love you. I wish you knew how much, Mulder.”

“I have an idea. Try to sleep.”

“Will you stay here tonight?” She asked.

“Not for long. The case…”

“Of course,” she mumbled. “See you later?”

“I’ll stay here until you fall asleep, Scully.”

Was that good enough? She reached for his hand and sneaked it up under her sleep shirt. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Tell me a story?”

“Of course, Scully.”

* * * * * 

When she woke up, he was gone. As she went downstairs, the pads of her feet bouncing off the cold hardwood floor. She instinctively put her hand against her swollen belly and called his name, “Mulder? Mulder?”

Her voice echoed in the silence. On the fridge, a rushed post-it note read, “At Quantico. Call me if you need anything. Love you more than anything. - M.” She closed her eyes, not knowing what to feel. She placed the note in a drawer and closed it. What could she do? She was looking forward to seeing Mulder in the morning, maybe having breakfast with him before her day…

Her day. How selfish that sounded.

Maybe she made a mistake. She shook her head and touched her stomach. “You aren’t a mistake, baby,” she whispered to her unborn child.

She opened the fridge to find breakfast and she had a plastic box containing fresh scones. She arched her eyebrow curiously and saw a post with a note on top. She frowned and picked it up. “I’m sorry. I tried my baking skills. Hopefully, it’s edible. I’m sorry for everything. I love you. - M.”

Scully felt her tears stinging her eyes again. Their conversation came back to her. She felt her heart seize. What was she supposed to do? Mulder was never easy to read but right now, she didn’t know what to believe. She toyed with her gold cross as she took out the scones and popped some into the toaster oven. She didn’t know what to believe. That morning, she had the surgery for the Fearon child. Father Joe’s words ringed in her ears: don’t give up.

Give up on what?

Her patient? Mulder? Hope? She ate the homemade scone, trying to choke down the bits. Her anxiety and pregnancy were making it worse. Scully couldn’t focus.

Her hand went to her head as she popped the homemade scone into the toaster. She wished he would be there with her now. That morning, she had Christian Fearon’s surgery. She wanted to talk to him so that she could get out of her fear and her anxiety. But he wasn’t here. He was at the FBI. Doing what he did best. Without her.

* * * * * 

Scully’s mind was racing. The surgery. Everything. Confronting Father Joe the night before was a surreal moment; seeing Mulder with the FBI confronting her. Then the surgery that she had performed on that poor boy that morning. Her mind raced but as she walked through the halls of the hospital, she was surprised to find Mulder standing in the main hallway. She recognized the sadness in his eyes right away. She reached to take his hand but he pulled her against him and crushed her lips. The stained glass window showed more brightly than it did before.

Mulder broke away and she cupped her face in his, forcing him to look at her. “Mulder? What is it? Talk to me.”

He forced himself to try and look at her, stating softly, “They're both dead. Monica Bannan and Dakota Whitney.”

“I heard. Sorry.” She released his face and took his hand. “Are you okay?” “I thought we were winning, Scully.”

“I know you did, Mulder.’

He took away his hand and stared at her with the wild glint in his eye; the same one he got with their cases. He told her, “I'm here to see Father Joe. I want to show him these photographs. These men.”

Scully sighed. “You still want to believe him.” He nodded. “I think you should know that he has been diagnosed with a terminal illness. He has advanced-stage lung cancer.”

“I just want to be sure.”

“Then let me ask him.”

“I thought you wanted to get as far away as you could, Scully.”

She ignored his barb. “Say I have a vested interest right now, especially in you.”

* * * * *

Everything was crashing down around her. She sat in her office trying to get a grip on reality. Being confronted by Fearon’s parents, her and Mulder’s sudden argument...why did he want to keep doing this madness? She had cried into her hands but suddenly, in her research, a nagging feeling exploded. She tried to call him to give him her lead. No dice. She called Agent Drummy to find Mulder, no dice. Finally, at the bottom of the well of her hope, she called the last number she wanted to.

It answered on the second ring.

“Skinner.”

How many times had she had to make this call?  “Walter?” She cleared her throat. “It’s Dana.”

“Dana? Dana Scully.”

“The one and the only.” She choked back a laugh. “How are you, Walter?”

“I could say I’m well but I know it’s only bad news when you call. What’s wrong with Mulder?”

Just like old times.

“He’s not answering his phone. He was supposed to be helping the FBI with a case...an Agent Drummy?”

She heard papers shuffling. “I heard rumors about your appearance at FBI headquarters. The case doesn’t fall directly under me but I’ll look into it. I’ll call you back in a sec.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Always, Dana.”

The phone clicked off and she closed her eyes, feeling her bitter tears. It was happening all over again. She was losing him. A second later, a phone call came back with an FBI number. “Scully,” she answered instinctively.

“Dana? It’s Skinner. I got news of a crash with a car titled to you. I’m texting you the address. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

* * * * * 

Things were a blur. Finding her car destroyed. Mulder was in the hospital. Again. And she was at his bedside again. Skinner left her quietly and wished her well. His eyes lingered on her pregnancy as he left, telling Scully to call him if she ever needed anything. Lastly, he produced a piece of paper in an envelope and smiled. “Good luck with your future.”

In it contained an official presidential pardon, signed courtesy of President George W. Bush. She cried with happiness and hugged Skinner. For once, they had hope.

But now, in the ER of Our Lady of Sorrow, Scully sat next to Mulder’s bed with her head in her hands. The pardon sat forgotten in her jacket. The medical sounds had become normal to her. Mulder’s head wound and injuries didn’t warrant a constant heartbeat monitor, especially after how she lorded over the attending resident. No one was going to touch him without her permission. 

“Hey, doc,” he croaked.

Scully rushed forward but suddenly stopped herself.

“What is it?”

She was angry, frustrated, and most of all, relieved. “I almost lost you. Again.”

“I’m sorry. God, what the hell hit my head?”

“The side of an ax.” She sighed. “Mulder, you can’t keep doing this to me.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Bullshit, Mulder.” She had tears running down her face; fucking pregnancy hormones. “I can’t lose you again. We’re going to have a child!” She slapped him with the blanket he was on top of. “I can’t do this again without you!”

Mulder seemed to sober up and urged her to lay next to her on the hospital bed. “You won’t, Scully. You won’t.”

Remorse set into him. He watched her with the tears streaming down her face.

“I have something for you,” she whispered.

“Can you get me a referral to a therapist while I’m here, Scully?”

“What?”

Mulder’s mind, in his drug-induced state, was racing. “Mental health. Therapist.” He remembered something she had said. He didn’t want to lose her or the baby again. “A therapist.”

“I heard you. Are you sure?”

“I want you to know what's for sure.”

“Of course.” She nuzzled his chest. “You’re free by the way.”

“Free?”

Mulder was quiet. As she lay against him, she got out the letter that was folded in an official envelope. “Skinner dropped it off. On the order of the President of the United States,” she said, “all charges and threats from the FBI are officially dismissed. Congratulations. You’re free now.” Scully sat up and patted his chest lightly. “I’m going to see if I can get a referral for a therapist and get you home.”

Mulder lifted the official pardon, eyeing the signature. “Scully,” he called. She turned, pausing by the doorway. “I’m sorry for everything I put you through over these past few days.”

She nodded, bowing her head. An errant strand of hair fell past her face. “I’ll be right back.”

Mulder threw his head against the thin hospital pillow. His head was swimming. This was either due to the blow he took to his head or his emotions. With a shaking, bandaged hand, he looked at the letter of pardon with the president’s signature on it. This really was happening. He was free. He was finally free. He closed his eyes as his headache. Shit, his entire body ached.

He fingered the letter. Where did that leave him? He was an expecting father. Scully...shit...Scully...his other half, his soul mate. He could hear Scully’s boots jog a boatload of memories. “Mulder, we just have to be here a bit longer. I put in the request and the therapist on call will be here about 30.”

“So a bit longer?”

“Yeah.”

Mulder’s head was still swimming. He twisted onto his good side as Scully played with his hair. “I should have learned my lesson years ago.”

“What are you talking about?” She pulled the plastic chair up to his side. “You’re looney.”

“William.”

She stopped suddenly. “It was a hard time.”

“This is a hard time. I don’t want to mess up again, Scully. I messed up last time. I can’t do it again.”

Scully felt tears prickle her eyes. Damn hormones. “What are you saying, Mulder?”

“I don’t want to miss this again.”

Scully drew a deep breath and laughed. She took his good hand and placed it against her belly. “Next week, Mulder. You’re coming with me to the doctor’s appointment.”

“A daughter,” he whispered, meeting her eyes. “A daughter.”

Something changed between them. They had endless anger, frustration, and angst over the past few years. How much had they suffered over the past decade? “Mulder,” she whispered, resting her chin on his arm. “Mulder, I am still afraid for our future. We’ve been on the rocks it feels like forever. I feel like I’m walking on broken glass around our relationship.”

Mulder caressed her cheek with a bandaged hand. “I can change, Scully. You changed me.”

She cast her eyes downward as tears prickled in her eyes. “Mulder, don’t make promises that you can’t keep.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Scully?”

She shook her head. “Last time...with William.”

He waved the letter with his bandaged hand. “I'm a free man, Scully.”

“Free to pursue the truth?”

“The truth is here, right in this room.” He caressed her cheek. “And hopefully, with a little help from a therapist, we can get past this darkness. I wasn’t there for William, for which I regret every day, but I am here now.”

Scully nodded. Her red hair fell about her face like a shroud. “Promise, Mulder?”

“With everything I have.” He smiled deviously. “We’re going to have another boy. I guarantee it.” 

She smiled sadly and rested her head on his chest.

* * * * * 

Scully screamed at the top of her lungs and Mulder felt her squeeze his hand with a strength he never experienced. She panted and shook her head. “I can’t, Mulder. I can’t do this.”

“Scully, you can. You did this before,” he whispered excitedly. “There is no conspiracy or super soldiers, I’m right here.”

She blinked her eyes, trying to clear them, but the pain was too much. “I can’t.”

“What is that Agent Reyes told me? Think of the whale songs. Come on, Scully, we can do this. I’m not going anywhere.” She felt another contraction and screamed at the top of her lungs. “Come on, Scully. Only a few more pushes.”

“You’re not the one pushing a human being out between your legs!” Mulder laughed and kissed her temple. “God, as much as I love you, I was to slap you.” She screamed as a new contraction hit her. “Mulder!”

Her head lolled to the side, shaking it wildly. “Come on, Dana, you’re almost there,” shouted the male doctor.

“Mulder, you promise me, right now. You won’t leave again.”

“I promise.”

She nodded and with one final push and a scream Mulder never dreamed of, there was a cry of new life. He wiped Scully’s brow with his large hand as the nurse rushed to give them a newborn swaddled in blankets. “Congratulations, you have a baby girl,” the nurse smiled proudly.

“A girl?” Scully whispered. She eyed Mulder. “Mulder?”

“The ultrasounds said a boy,” he said nervously.

“Well, I assure you,” the doctor laughed. “You have a girl.”

Scully, with tears in her eyes, looked at Mulder. “Mulder, we have a daughter.”

“What do you want to name her?” He asked in a reverent whisper. “Scully?”

“She’s barely crying.”

“Not at all. She must recognize her mommy.”

“And daddy.”

The baby girl yawned. Her face was red from the new air. Her sleepy eyes blinked and Mulder laughed. “She has your eyes.”

“Your hair.”

“What do you think, Scully?”

“Perfection.” 

Their new daughter whined slightly as they shared a kiss. “Dana,” the nurse said, “try to get her to feed.”

Mulder missed so much.  Scully gently pulled down the blanket and whispered, “Come on, little one.”

Her red hair was askew tied in a lazy bun. Her face was glistening, sweat, and the glow of a new mother. He glanced at his newborn daughter, suckling greedily. He wished he had been there with William like he was now. But he knew Scully did the best thing that she could have done then, but this time would be different. This newborn wasn’t a replacement for William but he would do the right thing.

Scully chuckled with tears in her eyes. “We have a daughter, Mulder.”

“We have a baby girl.” He laughed with tears in his eyes. “She’s not a replacement.”

“I know. Mulder, remember, we live for the now.” She gently detached the young baby and passed her to Mulder. “Hold your daughter.”

“I don’t think...”

Scully gave him no choice and passed him the newborn. Mulder held her like it was the most precious gift in the world. “We have a daughter.”

“Yep, dad,” she whispered. “You’re a dad, Fox Mulder.”

“I’m a dad.” He stared at the baby like he used to with an x-file. “Scully, I’m a dad!”

“You’re a father, Mulder.” She felt her heart swell. “This is what I imagined. This what I wanted.”

“I’m a dad,” he repeated like a broken record.

“You’re a dad.”

There was an eager knocking against the door and an eager Ms. Scully burst in. “I drove all the way from Baltimore as soon as I heard Fox’s message. Dana, are you okay?”

Scully smiled sleepily and glanced at Mulder. “Perfect, mom.”

Ms. Scully followed her daughter’s gaze to Mulder who held the small bundle. She gasped excitedly. “Is that my grandson?”

She held out her arms and Mulder gave over the new baby chuckling. “Your newest grandchild.”

“He’s beautiful,” she cooed. “Grandson number five. Grandbaby number six.”

Scully glanced at Mulder with a sad smile, tears in her eyes. Bill Jr had two sons, Charlie had one, and somehow, Ms. Scully still counted, Emily somehow, and William and now, the newest newborn. Scully relaxed against the pillow and smiled mischievously at Mulder. “So, Dana, what are you naming him?”

“Well, Ms. Scully, he isn’t exactly a he,” Mulder started.

“What do you mean? And Fox, call me Maggie. How many times do I have to tell you? What’s wrong with him?” She rocked him and Scully saw the fear flash in her eyes; the same fear that she had with William. “Dana? Fox?”

“Well,” Scully sighed sleepily. “He is a she.”

“He is a she?” Her eyes widened and looked down at the newborn as she processed the information “He’s a she?”

Scully pulled Mulder’s hand against her chest. “We had a daughter...you have a granddaughter, mom.”

Maggie’s eyes widened even more than possible and looked at the baby. “A granddaughter? I finally have a granddaughter?”

“You have a granddaughter, mom.”

The baby whined and Scully outstretched her arms. Maggie delivered the new baby girl back to her mother and smiled. She pulled the vinyl chair up to Mulder. “And the sonogram didn’t show it was she was a she?”

“Nope,” Mulder chuckled. “What was supposed to be a Michael is now up in the air. Maybe Michelle?”

The baby nestled against Scully’s chest and she smiled at Mulder and her mother. Maggie took Mulder’s hand. “What are you going to name her?”

Scully looked up at Mulder. “She looks like Catherine? Don’t you think so, Mulder?”

“Maybe,” Maggie said thoughtfully. “Fox?”

“Catherine...Catherine Melissa Scully-Mulder?”

“Catherine Melissa Scully-Mulder,” Scully echoed. She looked at her mom. “Is that okay?”

“Missy would be proud of you, baby. You too, Fox.”

“She barely knew me.” Mulder focused his attention on their newborn. “I doubt…”

“She knew you were perfect for Dana. Dana, can I have my new granddaughter back now?”

Scully blinked sleepily as Maggie took the newborn, whispering excitedly to her new grandchild. “You know what is next, right? You all are going to marry,” Maggie declared. “And I have to move in. I can’t miss a second of this little girl’s life.”

“One step at a time, mom,” Scully whispered. She was growing sleepy. She tugged on Mulder’s hand so he automatically adjusted her pillows. She smiled at him. “Love you, Mulder.”

Mulder suddenly felt caught. This felt like a dream. For so long, he had missed so much with Scully. He should’ve never left. He felt guilty for bringing Scully on the run for those two years. When they bought the unremarkable house, things seemed optimistic for a while but things quickly went rocky between them again. Then, Scully discovered she was pregnant and that became a band-aid over their wound. But when he finally got his freedom and her pregnancy progressed. All for this moment.

“I love you too, Scully.”

Maggie passed back the baby girl back to Scully who seemed content to be back in her mother’s arms. Mulder leaned close to Scully and whispered, “See, no more darkness, Scully.”

“No more darkness,” she repeated.

#prompt #asked and answered #msr #au #iwtb #xfiles #xf fic #txf #txf fic #mulder and scully #msr fic #mulder #scully

[luv-assangiebatch]

The One Where I was Written Into My Favorite Scene...

Courtesy of our own @bethanys-adventure

Recently, our fic-senpai Bethany shared some of her Kassangie archives with me-- and I remembered this one quite well and fondly-- as she wrote me straight into one of my favorite scene from The Fifth Estate! That's right-- The Pirate Bay shirt scene!

Effective Immediately

“Everything’s going out at once in case there’s a gag order”

“I’m struggling to keep it to 14 pages.”

Julian was bombarded with pages that two members of the guardian were giving him. This was all about his upcoming leak, the biggest one yet. This was the first public release of 91,000 Iraq war logs.

Kat was standing outside the office, not wanting to disrupt the meeting. Since she was not technically part of the WikiLeaks staff (she still managed to convince people that she was Julian’s PA) nor a journalist, she saw it best to keep her nose out of those sorts of meetings.

“Kat?”

Kat looked up to see Daniel walking towards her.

“Oh, hello Daniel!”

“Where’s Julian?”

Kat pointed to the office behind her “Why, what’s going on?” she questioned curiously, she noticed that Daniel sounded annoyed. She then wondered if the reason why Daniel was angry was because of Julian.

‘Of course not! They’re best friends!’

‘Well I did overhear something about a major unedited upcoming release of Iraq war logs… maybe it was that…’

Daniel nodded and annoyed, he almost burst through the door of the office “Julian.” Kat saw Julian look up and that was it. She didn’t hear the rest, she could only see. Julian looked a little annoyed and then stood up.

He walked out of the door, Daniel and possibly Ziggy (the new intern) trailing behind. Kat knew that this may not go well. She sighed and looked at Julian, who was wearing her favourite Pirate Bay shirt underneath a white button up (with all the buttons undone).

“What were you thinking?” Daniel growled.

“We make a promise to our sources to publish in full” Julian retaliated.

“You lied to everyone, you lied to me!”

“It’s funny; I don’t remember you objecting us publishing the names and addresses of every BMP member”

“These sources are fighting for the very thing we are supposed to stand for!”

“And remind me what that is exactly? Hm? Transparency for powerful organisations? Exposing corruption wherever it exists?” He turned to face Daniel.

“We’re going to have to push back publication. There’s no way we can publish in 4 days!”

The two entered another room, Kat decided to follow Ziggy, who waited outside. She sighed, knowing this would end badly.

“14 pages in the Guardian. 12 in the New York Times. This is more coverage than all of the leaks we have had combined. We are winning an information war! Which goes beyond the short term alliance we have with the mainstream media and you want to throw it all away because you fear that some US government informant might come to harm?”

“These are human beings Julian, there are lives at stake!”

“What about the lives of the soldiers and the civilians involved in these conflicts. Death squads, unreported civilian casualties, Countless incidents of ‘friendly fire’! This is information the world needs to know! So the next time you find yourself lecturing me about this organisation, please try and remember why I created it and why I hired you to help me.”

“That’s funny; I don’t remember you hiring me. I don’t recall a contract or a salary. But I guess I should have known when I met J Lim, there is no organisation. There’s just you and your ego and the lies you tell to get whatever the fuck you want!” Daniel almost shouted as Julian walked away a few steps.

Julian inhaled deeply, trying not to show any signs of anger “You know it’s incredible.” He mumbled loud enough for Daniel to hear “How much time you can spend with a person and still have no idea who they are.”

Daniel nodded a few times, clearly fuming. Kat had her fist close up to her lips in anxiety, the tip of her index finger poking the bottom of her nose.

A few more people had gathered out to see this argument.

Julian finally broke the silence “You’re suspended.” He turned around “Effective immediately.” He clicked his fingers and pointed at Kat and cocked his head “Love?” Kat knew the signal and followed him. As she was about to walk down the flight of stairs, Daniel grabbed her arm “Kat, you’re not really going to do this? You’re not going to follow him? Are you?”

Kat sighed “I’m sorry Daniel, I really am.” She brushed Daniel’s hand off of her arm and continued to follow Julian. When she had finally caught up with Julian, she could tell that he was fuming- even more than the incident with Sam.

He didn’t speak a word to her until they reached the hotel room they were staying in, obviously trying not to take his anger out on her. Kat stopped in front of Julian, with her left hand she cupped his left cheek and with her right hand, she curled a few strands of his hair in between her fingers and nuzzled his nose.

“Kat. Please.” Julian sighed.

“Hmm?” Kat mused, signaling that she was paying attention.

Julian then paused “What did Daniel say to you?”

“Julian, are we really going to talk about this now…”

“Yes, what did he say?”

“He asked me if I was really going to follow you. Whose side was I on.”

“And whose side are you on?” Julian questioned.

“You asked me a while ago if you had me. I will always be on your side Julian, always and forever. Not even Daniel can convince me otherwise.” Kat pulled Julian into a hug, pulling her head into his chest.

Julian nuzzled the top of her head and kissed her forehead. He smiled and said “Is it because you love me or you love the Pirate Bay shirt?”

Kat giggled “You know I can’t say no to that shirt and the maroon hoodie… and the cargo pants. But you know that I love you more than your clothes.”

Julian grinned “Thank you Kat. Thanks for everything.”

***

Later that night.... 😏🔥

#kassangie #author: bethanys-adventure #i hope this is okay to share here! #if not please let me know and I'll remove it #but this brought back a lot of nostalgia and feels #I was and am extremely blessed by you wonderful mutuals on this blog #just know I appreciate you! #also it gave me the excuse to have fun with these ai arts I made and altered a bit to be a little more “canon” #*giggles* 🤭🤭 #full shame

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Long Bus Ride

Genre: supernatural horror

Words: 5.6k

Summary: When her late night bus stops in the middle of a rolling fog cloud Frieda starts to worry. Then she starts seeing words being written in the condensation on her window and she truly gets unnerved.

A group of strangers must now try to get through the night as something seems to be outside.

content warning: body horror

---------

The bus was mostly empty that evening. That was typical with rising fares and the fact most people would have tried to be home hours ago. It was too early for the late night party crowd and too late for the normal working crowd.

The bus driver was a big guy named Ted, I knew him by his portly size and baby-smooth clean shaven face. He had youthful thick brown hair grown a little long probably for vanity’s sake and a large pot belly that sagged over the shiny tight black belt around his waist.

He always nodded at me when I got on and always stopped for people when they were running to catch the 431. He wasn’t always on time like the other bus driver-- Nory, but he also honked his horn a little less than him too.

I flashed my bus pass at Ted that evening with our usual nod and a lingering achy bitterness settling in my core. Deirdre’s daughter had come to visit again that afternoon and there was always too much nasty energy in the house on those days. I liked to keep things neat, both personally and professionally. I kept my purse organized into tiny pockets and my clothes sorted in bins by season and I never mentioned anything personal at my job.

Everything had its place, but it was harder to be politely indifferent to the household when they were throwing barbed words at each and asking my opinion. It bothered me to have to be anything other than “day nurse Frieda” to them. It blurred our relationship when they turned to me and said “tell my mother she needs to finalize her will” and so on.

Of course, Deirdre should and did need to finalize her will, but expressing that broke far too many boundaries in a messy way. 

I was ready to be home an hour ago by the time I walked to the bus stop with the sun already carefully nestled behind the city skyline. The purple of a gloomy summer night was heavy across the horizon and I didn’t even both to check my phone watch. I knew my Friday night was almost already over.

My feet ached as I turned to walk down the aisle of the 431 bus headed to Oakland. My chin was sinking toward my chest like a balloon tug insistently downward by a toddler. An older man sat near the front.

He was a skinny, wiry man with a thick mustache and clothes with spots of what I hoped was motor oil on his patterned button-up and workman pants. He wore heavy boots and watched me with small eyes under enormous eyebrows that could have probably watched me as well for the sheer size of them. He had no bags or anything with him and he sat like there was a drill sergeant ready to bark at him if he so much as slouched a little.

No one else sat in the seats near the front designated for the elderly and pregnant. The seats themselves were blue and yellow with party designs on them like you might see at a tacky bowling alley. It was an older bus that hadn’t even been upgraded to “green” standards yet and rumbled like a thunder storm wherever it went.

In the middle seats was a mother and child. She was a middle-aged black woman with long beaded braids tied back in a ponytail and wore a bright pink shirt and a slouchy pair of comfortable looking jeans. Her daughter looked around 9 or 10 and had her hair pulled back in a tight bun at the top of her head. She wore a hoodie over what looked like leggings and carried a sports bag with her.

The mother was probably picking her up from something like ballet practice. The daughter was leaning on the mom while she absently stroked her head and looked out the window. Something about the easy intimacy of it made me look away quickly.

One seat up and across from the mother and daughter was a gently snoring man. He had a wild beard, knit cap, and fingerless gloves. I could tell by the smell alone that he was homeless and had probably been sleeping on the bus for hours now. However, I had smelled worse and his jacket and jeans weren’t as grungy or disheveled as they could have been.

Two other people sat in the back, but luckily neither of them had claimed the final spot in the corner of the bus near the window. A young woman was one chair ahead of my seat, a short white girl who looked around college age. I wrinkled my nose at her because she was holding a paper cup with what I assumed was coffee and her hands were shaking.

She had on a long skirt with mud splotches at the bottom and a pale blue shirt with a mustard stain on the front. Her long auburn hair was tied back into a ratty knot at the back of her neck. She had on huge glasses dangerously close to the edge of her nose and she was staring out the window with the look of someone trying to count the yellow street lines and failing.

Across from her in the other corner of the bus was a high-school aged looking young man with a huge bag blocking the seat next to him. He was Asian with ink-black hair that he had spiked, and wore all black with dark ripped jeans and a band t-shirt. His ears were covered by silver earrings draped over the lobes like angry criss-crossing Christmas decorations.

He had a tattoo of what appeared to be a wing on his neck and smeared eyeliner around his indifferent gaze. He was wearing small earbuds and listening to something with an audible thrumming base.

I ignored both the messy girl and the punk boy as I took my seat and got out my book for the forty minute ride home. It was another pirate romance story-- which my sister recommended because she assumed she knew my taste. The action scenes were fine, but the actual tension between the main couple was blase at best.

I had to make sure no one sat behind me during my bus rides home though because I didn’t need anyone looking over my shoulder and finding the words “he touched my wet throbbing womanhood.” To say the least, the erotic parts of the novels were not that good either.

It was better than scrolling my phone right then though. I hated work emails more than I hated mud trailed onto the carpet in my house or slow-walkers on the sidewalk.

I peeked out the windows sometimes to get a look at the city as the street lights and building lights and headlights erupted one by one in a pale cascade. We were getting closer to the Oakland Bay bridge and the lights threaded along the beams like spiderwebs of frantic energy all captured and blooming at once. I had an affection for the city despite being trapped there.

I hadn’t actually come to California to be a geriatric nurse again. I already spent ten years working as one in Louisiana when an old college friend had called me up and asked if I wanted to join his startup. It sounded like a fairy tale: join an up and coming tech company and watch as you get boosted past “middle class” into something glamorous and decadent. Kitt knew me and knew I was good with people and offered to let me run the PR department.

Of course, I hadn’t joined for the money or the fact I was that interested in PR. I had been working in a nursing home for almost a decade by then and it had started to wear on me. I liked listening to people, especially people who were made of stories, and the job had originally suited me fine. But there was this… shadow over it all that started to eat at me.

A shadow of loss, of empty words, empty places where a sharp mind used to be, empty reassurances that meant nothing, brief glimpses of grief so intense that it split people in two. That shadow loomed larger and larger the longer I stayed. It chased me as my favorite grandma’s hands started to shake and my favorite patient stopped being able to play piano. I saw it in how some of them stopped meeting my eyes when the months dragged on and their time was coming. I saw in the way they stopped remembering my name or their own.

No. I didn’t want to work as an elderly care nurse any longer.

Of course, I was also 33 and single, and a change sounded good. So I moved all the way across the country, got the smallest apartment I had ever lived in, and dared to be a little bold. I wore brighter colors, spoke out more in meetings, cooked spicier foods, I went on dates with women for the first time.

But all good things come to an end. Most startups don’t make it, no matter how many twitter algorithms you try to “hack.”

I looked out the window and ignored my phone as it buzzed. There were other reasons I didn’t check my phone on the bus as well. Cynthia still wanted to meet now and then-- to see if we could make it work after all. I ignored the buzz.

I was lost to the erotic adventures of a very loud and very incompetent heroine when I heard a soft gasp come from in front of me. I usually had a rule of ignoring everyone else on public transport, but there was something about the sharp surprised sound that made me look up.

We were on the bridge now and it was damp and dark out. I blinked a couple times as I noticed a thick cloud seeming to descend. Fog was all but normal in San Francisco so I decided to go back to reading my book.

A small murmur passed between the daughter and mother in the middle of the bus, “it’s alright…” 

I looked up again and the cloud was quickly eating up the view and making the road ahead look shrouded and strange. Cars around us had already turned on their headlights and I could almost feel the bus slowing down as visibility ahead quickly disappeared.

I wrinkled my brow. I didn’t know much about weather, but we usually only saw fog like this in the mornings. I looked to the other side of the road and noticed that I didn’t see any cars coming toward us.

“Look mom,” I heard a small voice say and the little girl was pointing out toward the ocean. I tried to look out the window and make out the sea too, but only saw that same thick white. It was dense and shapeless around us and the bus was slowing down further.

“Where are the lights?” I snapped my head around and the punk kid had taken his earbuds out. His face was even more stony than before and his eyes were narrowed toward where the bridge would be. 

I set my jaw as I realized I didn’t see any of the glowing yellow lights that should be at least breaking through parts of the fog. Even worse, I checked ahead of us and behind, I had never known the Oakland bridge to ever be empty.

There were no more cars on either side of us.

I gulped. The bus was almost at a standstill.

“Hey!” The messy college girl holding the coffee called up from the back. “What’s going on?”

“Yeah, what’s the meaning of this? We’ve all got places to be.” The working class man stood up at the front.

Ted the driver didn’t turn around and there was something about his figure that sat wrong.

“Where the fuck are the lights?” The punk kid was standing up now and craning his neck to look outside.

“Excuse me, sir, is there a problem?” The mother had dragged her daughter into her lap and the little girl was looking directly out the window at something with the utmost focus.

I shifted uncomfortably in place and watched the scene unfold. Something cold was trailing down my spine. I liked to keep things neat, and this felt like it was about to pick up my wardrobe and dump it outside onto my muddy lawn.

A couple voices kept demanding to know why we had stopped, and the homeless man somehow kept dozing. “Ooh,” the little girl touched the window and suddenly my eyes were drawn back to my own window.

The fog was dense to the point of nothingness, and beyond the fog seemed to be an even thicker night. I furrowed my brow and drew back into myself. Condensation was gathering on the other side of the window-- the type you might see when your warm breath touches glass.

A thin layer of white was spreading across the window and then I saw what the young girl was “oohing” at.

“Everyone, step back from the windows.” I heard myself saying, reasonably, in as a controlled manner as I could.

Little droplets had now formed on the other side of the glass and the white haze was thick and tangible. That’s not why I jumped back though. A perfectly formed fingerprint was pressed into the condensation there. A clear oval that was dragging down, down, down the window and creating one long, straight line.

There was nothing behind that finger. There was no body or hand or anything attached at all. Only the imprint that was meticulously drawing downward.

“What the fuck?!” The punk kid scrambled back from his window as well.

“What’s going on?” The college student said in a panic as more little finger tips pressed against the glass. Hands, but not hands. My heart squeezed in my chest and a flurry of possibilities went through my head: I was in a coma, I was asleep, I was asleep in a coma. I was dead.

I was dead and hell is a bus ride.

“Ah!” I jerked my head around again and saw the old man in heavy work pants standing by the front with his mouth wide and eyes as round as silver dollars. He was staring at the bus driver in the way one stares at their parents declaring a divorce.

“Ted…” I muttered and forced myself forward. I wrapped my hands around the bus poles with each step and the metal was almost freezing at each touch. I stumbled across the long space.

“Mommy, what is it?” The window next to the little ballerina was absolutely covered in those floating strokes carefully applied by invisible fingers. They were drawing spirals and zig-zags and something that I dearly hoped wasn’t a letter of the alphabet.

I made my way past the sleeping homeless man who still managed not to wake and all the way to the front of the bus where the old man was staring at Ted.

“He’s-He’s--” He stuttered at me and fell back against a metal pole next to the door. 

“It’s alright, I’m a nurse.” I took a deep steadying breath. I had seen corpses plenty of times in my life and I knew how to keep myself focused on the tasks in front of me. Ted was slumped over and unmoving.

I reached for his arm first and picked up his limp wrist. I exhaled the second I reached his pulse and felt a faint thrum there. His skin was clammy and far too cold, but he was breathing. “Don’t look at the eyes.” The old man grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t look!”

I was never very good at averting my eyes when facing car crashes or jump scares in horror movies. He had a pulse. I needed to check for head injuries. I glanced at his face. Something was dripping down his cheeks in a steady flow.

I reached and tipped his chin up. I swallowed my scream before it could escape. His eyes were gummed shut with something black and bubbling. It was like tar that held both of his eyelids clamped closed and water was leaking out of the seams.

Droplets beaded down his cheeks and when I let his head fall again it leaked like rain down upon his lap. I stopped myself from heaving at the sight and looked downward. His foot was still on the gas, but we weren’t moving forward.

“Let’s go.” I ushered the old man away from Ted’s body. Something told me we shouldn’t touch it or be too close to it. We retreated back toward the other seats.

“E,” the little girl was tracing a letter in the condensation. Something outside was writing the letter E and then another letter next to it. “N.”

I walked down the center of the bus in a daze and the others looked at me. The disheveled college student stumbled toward us. “Is the driver alright?” I just shook my head and couldn’t find the words to explain that one of us was surely dreaming up a nightmare. 

The punk kid was sitting in the center of the back seats clutching his bag to his chest and his earbuds were back in.

“Little girl.” A voice barked. I turned and suddenly I noticed that the homeless man had sat up and his clear blue eyes were darting around the space frantically. “Don’t touch the windows.” His voice was deep and smoke-beaten. “Again, again, again.” He repeated, “Don’t touch. Again.”

I looked back to the shapes being drawn in the window panes. 

They were impossibly strange, but no sounds came from the drag of their fingers. In fact, I didn’t pick up any noises from the city at all: no honking, no sirens, no hums of life. I groped for the right words to try to make sense of this.

“Little girl!” The homeless man said sharply and he looked toward the closest window. “Don’t.” “Sheryl…” Her mother warned, but the little girl, Sheryl, kept tracing the letters the Things were drawing.

I watched in a trance, “T.” She said softly. “E.” I was watching the tip of her finger move when I caught the first glimpse.

My whole body froze like a jolt of ice pouring down my spine. Just beyond the invisible hand was a face submerged in the fog-- faint and shifting. It was hard to make out, but two black eyes drooped like runny eggs down it’s sunken cheeks and a mouth grotesquely frozen in a scream took shape for just a moment.

I grabbed for the mother, “everyone!” I found the energy to fill my words with urgency, “get away from the windows!” They all looked to me and I mustered every bit of my authority, “NOW!”

Reluctant shuffling followed. “Wait!” Sheryl protested as her mom picked her up and carried her to the center of the bus. “Wait!” She repeated, “it wasn’t finished.”

The fingers outside became more frantic as we retreated into the center of the bus as far away from the windows as we could get. They clawed and dragged and I could make out more and more faces, some with three fingers and some with seven. Faint outlines of the hands and faces morphed and danced just out in the darkness.

They never stood still or seemed to stop shifting and twisting as if unnaturally alive.

A shudder went through the small group as we huddled together like penguins being accosted by the arctic breeze. The punk boy was the last to reach us as he clung to his huge bag and entered the loose circle we created.

The old man was shifty-eyed and looked the most on edge. I kept an eye on him, as well as the homeless man who was hunched over into himself. “Again,” he muttered to himself. “Again.” The moments after we gathered were long and strained before anyone dared to speak and break the ghastly immense silence. “Something was wrong with the driver,” the old man finally announced as he looked to the fingers, “something is wrong here.” “Very wrong.” The college student echoed.

“Duh,” The pink kid said back with his teeth clenched.

“Perhaps it will be over soon.” I added softly, mostly speaking to myself.

“What’s everyone’s names?” I looked up as the homeless man finally broke himself upright again.

“What? Why?” The old man practically growled.

“Everyone here has got to have a name.” The homeless man’s blue eyes were still frantic and traveling faster than I thought they should back and forth across the space. “Got to have a name.”

“How do we know that will--” “Angela.” The mother spoke up. “And this is Sheryl. Have you seen this before?” She looked to him as if he must often see buses descend into hell before.

“I’m Rick.” He said without hesitating, “Angela, Sheryl,” he pointed to the college student as if to pose a question.

“Laura.” She said softly. Her hands were still shaking, but probably for different reasons now.

“Angela, Sheryl, Laura,” Rick almost sang and then prompted the old man to speak.

“I’m Drew.” The old man said hesitantly after a moment.

“And I’m Frieda.” I added as the punk kid spoke as well.

“I’m Jinu.” 

A silence spread and I didnt know what I expected to happen from swapping names with a group of strangers. Sheryl was frowning deeply. She whispered, “We shouldn’t have left where they can see us.”

That made me look back to the people I was stuck with and I opened my mouth to ask Sheryl if she was alright.

Bring

We jumped as one when a sudden and angry sound crackled and shook the space. 

Bring, bring

It was like the sound of an old phone back from the 90s. A classic, angry noise that ate up the whole area with its loud buzzing undertone.

Bring!

I felt my pocket and felt something vibrating there.

“It’s our phones…” Jinu said in a hush.

My phone was ringing. And I knew we were being hailed.

Bring, bring, bring

I felt sick.

Laura was the first to dig out her phone from her bright yellow purse and hold it in her hands.

Bring, bring

The iphone vibrated and almost shook its way out of her hands. It’s screen was completely black and something, something was making it ring. “What’s,” I couldn’t contain the question any longer. “What’s causing this?” No one answered me. Drew took out his phone next, a first generation android it looked like with a cracked screen that was just as black as the last one. Slowly, everyone except for Rick, extracted our phones and watched as they made the same cry together over and over again: bring, bring, bring, bring, bring.

I stared into the shiny black surface of mine. It was perfectly smooth and almost… too dark. A dark I had never seen before and reflected nothing back. It felt like it was eating the light up.

“Maybe,” Laura spoke up. “Maybe we could call the police.”

“It’s a little late for that honey.” Angela said with a forlorn sigh.

“Why are they ringing?” I asked dumbly.

“We shouldn’t answer.” Jinu growled and tossed his phone all the way to the other side of the bus.

Rick nodded, “Do. Not. Answer.” “But…” I frowned deeply. “We can’t stay here.” “We can’t answer either.” Rick said in his same husky, withered tone. Drew nodded and threw his phone away, I followed suit mostly to stop looking at the shiny blackness of the screen. Angela seemed to almost break hers as she chucked it away as well, and Laura was the last one. She gripped it tightly and looked up.

“What do you think those are?” She finally voiced our fears and looked back to the fingers and morphed faces. “Are they… are they what’s calling us?” I shrugged, “does it matter?” I glared, “we can’t risk it. Throw it away.” “What happened to the driver?” Laura whispered and I just shook my head. She threw her phone away.

We all looked at each other carefully, and then we waited.

--------

Time ticked by with an anonymous meaningless face. On some level I think most of us expected to wake up soon, or for the sun to rise or to have God yelled “pranked!” from somewhere up in the sky. At least, that’s what I was waiting for.

The bus was still, just as cold and faceless as before, immobile as it had ever been. Alone in the middle of the bridge and alone in no place at all. I had a switch knife I carried around that I now held in my clenched fists and the world stood still.

Empty, except for the constant, unending sound of the phones: bring, bring, bring. They chorused and buzzed on the other side of the bus as we huddled in the center. It was endless. People did what they could to distract themselves from their impossible voices. 

Jinu put his headphones back in and turned them all the way up. Laura covered her ears with both hands and rocked back and forth in a ball. Rick gazed unseeingly up at the ceiling with a deep frown on his face. Drew was drawing something on his palm as if doing math equations on his skin.

I distracted myself by talking to the mother and daughter. “You want to be a prima ballerina when you grow up?” I asked softly as I watched Sheryl’s small face. Angela was still stroking her daughter’s head and holding her close as the minutes ticked by.

Bring, bring

“I want to dance in The Swan Lake,” she said factually. “I’m not good enough yet, but I will be.” I beamed. “I believe you.”

Bring, bring

“What do you do?” Angela asked and there was something forced about it.

“Nurse.” I said simply. “Though I came here for an app startup of all things.” 

“Oh?”

Bring, bring, bring I wasn’t usually one for idle-chit-chat, but a damp coldness was working its way through my chest. I had already noticed that Laura was shivering fiercely.

“Yeah, we were going to change the world or something he said,” I rolled my eyes, “but it didn’t turn out that way of course.”

“What kind of app was it?” Sheryl was still looking to her window, but she seemed present enough. 

“Oh, a ride sharing one. It was supposed to be a public minded service called ‘Democracy Bus.’ It was meant to help people get to the polls on voting days for free or get to civil rally's or debate parties,” I shook my head. “It never got off the ground.” Angela opened her mouth to respond, but seemed to be drained of some force within her.

Bring, bring

“That settles it.” Drew stood up with a hardened look on his face. “If I run I might make it to the other side of the bridge in a few minutes.” He nodded, “we were more than halfway to the other side by the time we stopped.”

We openly stared at the old man. Jinu took his headphones out, and Laura uncurled herself. Rick kept looking at the ceiling.

Bring, bring, bring

My mouth became a hard line, “We don’t want to let any of those things in here…” I whispered.

Drew dusted himself off, “I only need someone to pull the door open for a second. And beside,” his lips curled up, “we can’t exactly stay here and starve.” My skin prickled and I didn’t mention the fact I hadn’t felt hungry since the moment we stopped. I hadn’t felt thirsty either, or anything at all. Just cold. And damp.

“We’re not going out there.” Angela hissed first. “It’s too much of a risk.” She held her daughter tighter to her.

“Does anyone else have any ideas then?” Drew seethed. We were quiet.

Bring, bring

“Maybe we should answer one.” Laura said again, “just to see what happens.” She cocked her head to the side, “maybe they’ll let us go.”

“That sounds like an even worse idea than his.” Jinu said flatly.

“Don’t. Answer. The. Phones.” Rick finally joined the conversation and haltingly declared.

“Why not?” Drew narrowed his eyes icily, “What do you know?” Rick looked back up to the ceiling and set his jaw. Drew took a menacing step toward him, “What does he know?!”

“Oh,” Sheryl pointed, “Look. They’re trying again... E.” I looked up just in time to see the fingers all in one motion write the letter “E” over and over again on each window. I swallowed thickly. “We should all cover our eyes.” I announced, “We need to wait this out.”

Bring, bring, bring! Drew shook his head. “We just gotta open the door for a moment. I’ll go get help.” Angela looked like she was ready to pounce on him. “I told you! It’s too risky, there’s children aboard.”

“A child who keeps trying to communicate with them!”

The fingers were now writing “N” over and over again on every surface of the windows that there were. “N” She read softly.

“Guys,” I repeated and my voice rose, “I think we should cover our eyes.” “T,” Sheryl muttered and I dove for her first.

“Cover your eyes!” I screeched and slapped a hand over her gaze so that she couldn’t read it anymore.

Bring, bring!

“This is crazy!” Jinu started stumbling backward away from the group.

“Don’t leave us!” I reached for him as well.

“No!” Rick shouted, “I told you not to!”

I turned just on time to see Laura crawling toward her phone. She pressed on the screen with one finger and brought it to her face, “hello?” “E.” Sheryl said as my fingers slipped and the whole world came crashing down around us.

“Get back! Get away from her!” Rick pushed the three of us he could reach toward the back of the bus. Jinu let out a wordless scream and Drew reached for Laura.

“Young lady?” Laura’s face was completely contorted as she stood up. Her mouth opened in a grotesque snarl as her jaw jutted out awkwardly to the side. Her eyes were lifeless and started to leak drips of water down her cheeks.

She moved all at once-- like strings were unevenly tied to her knees. She took one jerky, tin step forward and then another.

“Drew,” I hissed and reached for him. “Get back.” “She’s so young,” he muttered. “She’s so young. Can you hear me?” The water was running down Laura’s cheeks like a faucet now and I couldn’t look away as her eyes sunk into their sockets. The white disappeared first into some unseen blackness. I pulled Drew back with all my physical strength and Laura took another step forward.

Could we fight her? Could we fight these things?

I took my knife out and slashed the air in front of us as she took her unpleasant, rigid steps forward. Her eyes had all but sunken into her head and her hanging mouth was now dripping water that smelled of something like mold and damp earth.

“Stay back,” I hissed and slashed the air again. “I’ll kill you.” To my surprise she turned. She faced one of the windows, the one that Sheryl has been sitting at only hours before back in the sunlight world. She touched the glass tentatively and the fingers repeated their last letter over and over again. Sheryl said a final ringing letter, “R.” ENTER.

I hugged myself and held my breath, bracing for the worst.

The windows did not break open though and the distorted faces did not slither inward. Laura got up onto the seat and started pressing into the window. Her eyes were completely gone and her ears and mouth and eyes were all steadily running over with streams of water.

It was wrong. It was hard to watch as she hands pressed gradually through the glass in an impossible manner.

It was a slow and painful process as she joined the mist. Hands grabbed her and pulled at her, her hair came loose and fell down her shoulders, and one of the people beside me started sobbing.

“It’s taking her…”

Someone started humming, Jinu I think. It was a sad and reluctant song that carried soberingly through the space. He hummed a funeral march just as she was tugged through the window and off into the white expanse with no name.

Our phones stopped ringing all at once and the fog began to lift as if in a dream. The next procession was mechanical and done in complete silence. We picked up our cracked phones and returned to our seats.

I didn’t know what compelled us, but I knew it had to be done. I knew we had to return to our exact same spots.

I took my seat at the back of the bus with my head bowed downward and Jinu sat across from me with his eyes focused on the skyline. Angela and Sheryl sat close and fixed in place. Rick went back to sleep. Drew sat closest to the driver and watched Ted sit up again.

Lights appeared beside us. Sounds of cars and bikers and voices reappeared. Headlights blinked on the other side of the road. Ted started the engine again. And we drove.

The bus rumbled onward through the beautiful dark night and city.

The only sign that we had ever been trapped in some place beyond here was the fact that my face was wet with tears and that there was an empty seat in front of me. I couldn’t remember her name though.

I looked down at my phone and I had 127 missed calls from “UNKNOWN” and a very brief text message from the same number. All it read was “again” and “enter.”

I closed my eyes and figured maybe it was time to move back home.

#writeblr #horror #writers on tumblr #supernatural #short story #original story #my work #creepy story #cw: body horror

[blairinspace]

Once a pirate, always a pirate.

Character profile for: Auguste Sinclair.

[Image description: A digital waist-up drawing of a man surrounded by a fiery scene. His features resemble a feline, and there are dark stripes across his cheeks. He frowns and stares coldly in front of him, facing the left. His hair is dark brown and curly. He wears a regency shirt with ruffles that trail down his chest. /end description]

Basic Information

Name: Auguste Sinclair.

Age: 30's.

Gender: Male.

Species: Caspian tiger with pseudo-melanism.

Place of Birth: Marseille, France.

Nationality: French. Turkish blood.

Occupation: Pirate. Corsair, sellsword.

Marital Status: Unattached, indifferent.

Physical Attributes

Height: 5 feet and 10 inches.

Weight: Average, if not on the smaller side of 130 lbs.

Eye Color: Ocean blue.

Coat Color: Beige and ash brown. Thick, dark stripes create a marbling pattern across his coat.

Hair: Ash brown, nearly black curls. Falls to his shoulder blades. Typically pulled into a loose, low ponytail. Sometimes braided.

Distinguishing Features: Thick eyebrows, cold eyes. Left upper canine is replaced with gold. Large scars on chest, a fine nick crossing the left side of his lips and partially stretching across his chin and cheek; many smaller ones elsewhere.

Build of Body: Lithe, athletic. A tad scrawny.

Scent: Sea salt, cloves, and bay leaves.

Posture: A bit withdrawn, a bit haughty.

Typical Clothing: Usually wearing cotton breeches and heeled boots, with laced linen shirt, and silk vest, much of which is decorated with embroidery of some sort. His style is a little flamboyant and too rich for his kind.

Accessories: Ear piercings. Colorful sashes. Embossed leather belt; attached is a coin purse, a French cutlass, and a Turkish dagger.

Voice: Sultry, smooth, confident. Cillian Murphy.

Accent: Remnants of French, mixed with something else.

Mental Attributes

Likes: Reading, writing and journaling, sword sparring. The sound of an old but sturdy hull. Starlit skies.

Dislikes: Crowded ships, stormy weather. Heights. Nosy individuals.

Education: Fairly educated. Literate in French and English. Child of nobility.

Fears: Being found, going home. Falling in love.

General Attitude: Very much a man that lives in his own world. He has turned his back on everything he knew at home and makes his own way in life. Depends on no one but himself, and whoever buys his sword. Tends to drive away those who try to get close to him, especially the ones who ask too many questions.

Quirks and Habits: Fidgets; usually with a coin, rolling it between his knuckles. Can sleep just about anywhere. Smokes when bored or nervous.

Temperament: Choleric; independent, decisive, goal-oriented, ambitious, vengeful, short-tempered.

Symbols: The pomegranate; power, blood, death. The color red; passion, willpower, vigor, wrath, determination. The Hermit; withdrawal, introspection, roguery.

Generous - Refined - Capable - Loyal Private - Solemn - Hedonistic Abrasive - Difficult - Moody - Paranoid

#auguste sinclair #character profile #my art

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🎂 Sat 1 Feb 💚

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HAROLD!!

As the Eroda accounts remind us, today is a peculiarly special day- it's Harry's 26th birthday!! Idk what he's up to, other than raking in the best wishes and birthday accolades of the world. He was seen with sports broadcast personality Patrick O'Conner in a pic, so one assumes he's hanging around Miami for the Super Bowl excitement and I hope he's enjoying it. He deserves after the sad beginning to his birthday- his show last night was canceled! He was delayed coming on for hours and then, after midnight, the venue abruptly announced that the show was cancelled due to severe weather and forced attendees out of the leaking and flooding venue- into the storm! Much better! Being on a small island they had not allowed on site parking, only rideshares, a terrible combination with the policy of confiscating (and throwing away) portable phone chargers. When everyone was kicked out even those people who still had enough charge to get a rideshare were fucked: cars were, of course, at surge pricing, $100 to go anywhere at all, and attendees had to wade through knee deep floodwaters to get to the pick up area. Fans rallied and donated funds which was so sweet and after twitter tried to cancel the entire Pepsi corporation, they said they'd reimburse attendees for transportation but that was all later: meanwhile it was just wet sobbing fans being laughed at by venue security. So terrible! Anyway sad for Harry too: he tweeted that he was "so disappointed" and I believe him and I'm so sad for him! The set list shows that he planned a piano bit on Fine Line and I wouldn't be at all surprised if he'd had other surprises up his (probably very exciting and frilly) sleeves that he was looking forward to sharing. So anyway, I hope he's having a much better day today! All the birthday love to you H.

Walls is still iTunes number one worldwide (and in many countries), hell yeah! Even more good industry responses and nice reviews than yesterday, they're stacking up, as they should. Louis tweeted one last thank you late late late last night and "been up for 24 hours," followed a few hours later by "27 hours later and I'm going to sleep. I'll never forget how today made me feel. Love to you all x" like... I didn't know I had more tears in me for one release day but DAMN. So fucking happy for him. Then did he sleep for a whole day? Sadly NO he was papped at the airport heading home for UK promo just a few hours later looking exhausted but with airport looks on Point as usual, snuggled up in a Pirate Bay hoodie (it being for a pirating site while his album is newly on sale is priceless enough but excellent chance he actually chose it for the big ass ship picture.) A behind the scenes making of for the Walls video aired- Louis says "it’s been amazing for me...getting involved creatively and really having a say on...how the video looks," "there’s something special about this video" and that it's "deliberately dreamy and trippy." He also says "people love to read into these kind of things and have theories but it’s as simple as me being proud of where I came from, it thought it was important to reference" about the 1D part, as if he hasn't repeatedly praised us for 'reading into' things omg let us live Louis. The new merch store was officially launched- it's pretty and the merch is terrific and I assume there's a bundling related reason to separate the merch and album sales but also it seems weird that you can't buy the album with a shirt but fine. And an article in the Sun weekend magazine came out where among other nonsense they make the rookie mistake of getting very specific about when he and Eleanor got together, easily verifiable to be wrong by well over a year and not at all the sort of thing one would misremember (the exact date? sure, of course. whether it was during the X Factor vs a year later? not fucking likely), and say Louis is based in LA. Nice pictures anyway!

#so anyway now we know when Louis and Harry got together i guess #poor Hannah both gone AND forgotten #Harry #Louis #only #there'sa Liam interview from yesterday that says some interesting things but it's not time sensitive and it's too busy #I'll just... work it in later or something #super bowl #pepsi zero sugar pre super bowl party #seton o Conner #Eleanor #stunts #the sun #Louis shirts #sbb #pirate bay #Walls video making of #1 Feb 20

[random-french-girl]

pirates? in my bumbleby AU?

A while ago, because of this amazing fanart, me and @grimmfluence talked about a rival pirates AU, and I ended up writing it just for fun. I completely forgot about it, but I just found the google doc again and global quarantine seems like the perfect time to share fics. So, here: have a very self-indulgent one shot about Blake and Yang as rival pirate captains, with a healthy dose of fighting, and even more sexual tension.

Words: ~4300

Rating: T (ish?)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

”Sail!”

Ruby’s voice rings out loud and clear from her perch on the crow’s nest. As soon as she hears the call, Yang, on the quarterdeck, points her spyglass to the west. She doesn’t see anything at first - her sister has sharper eyes than most, which is why she’s so often their lookout - but, eventually, she finds the dark shape on the horizon line. There it is. The Atlas Navy ship that’s gonna make them all rich. And more importantly, free. 

She tucks the spyglass back in a pocket of her waistcoat. On the lower deck, the crew awaits her orders, rugged faces turned towards her with eyes full of hope and determination. A few feet from her, Weiss, her quartermaster, waits as well, standing by the steering wheel. A hint of nervousness shows in the way her gloved hand grips the pommel of her rapier. 

Yang faces Weiss, grinning. “Time to hunt those bastards. Raise the black.” Weiss’s mouth curves in a smile, white teeth glinting ominously in the sunlight, as does the white oiled cloth of her eyepatch. She turns to the crew. “You heard the captain, we’re going after them. Raise the black! Raise the mainsail! Batten down the hatches!”

The crew scrambles to obey, with the habitual trepidation that comes with an impending fight, and soon they’re picking up speed. Yang feels the wind on her face, toying with her hair, spraying salt on her sunbaked skin. She breathes in, deeply, and checks the loaded pistol at her hip, the broad cutlass hanging from her belt. She’s wearing her combat hook today ; the tip is as sharp as any blade, and more dangerous than most since she’s the one wielding it. Captain Xiao Long, the Dragon of the seas, is ready for battle.

“There’s another one!” Ruby yells, suddenly. Even from so high up, Yang hears the shock in her sister’s voice. “Another ship! Coming from the south, faster than us!”

“Another Atlas ship?” Yang groans, cursing internally. Two ships against one won’t make for an easy fight, even if her Summer Thorn is as sturdy as they come. 

“No, it’s not showing Atlas colors. They’re… Oh, goddamnit. Yang, it’s the Black Cat.”

Yang’s blood boils. Her eyes turn red. “How the fuck did Belladonna find out about this?”

Nobody answers but the wind.

***

Admiral Cordovin, commander of the Atlesian Fleet, captain of the Iron Boot, Navy veteran, manages to keep her cool as the enemy ship comes at them full speed. That is, until she catches sight of the black flag with white fangs raised on top of the main mast - then she can’t help a whimper of fear. She glances behind her, but the line of soldiers standing at attention doesn’t react. Maybe they didn’t hear. 

“Is that… Is that the Black Cat?” her-second-in-command murmurs beside her, not bothering to mask his terror.

The ship is a schooner, elegant and fast, coursing through the waves like it has a mind of its own. Cordovin swallows, uneasily. Everyone knows seeing the flag of the Black Cat is a bad omen.

“Cannons at the ready!” she orders, voice trembling slightly. The second-in-command gulps. “Ma’am, are we actually fighting them?”

“Not like we have a choice. Captain Belladonna will massacre all of us if we surrender - bloodthirsty savage.”

“Actually,” a voice murmurs right behind her ear, “you do have a choice.”

Cordovin tries to turn around, but there’s an arm around her neck and a knife against her throat, so she stills. From the corner of her eye, she can only see the white and blue colors of an Atlas uniform. Fear must have taken hold of one of her soldiers. ”How dare you threaten an officer of the Atlas Navy, grunt?” she snarls, between gritted teeth. “Let me go at once, or I will have you whipped.”

A chuckle. “Grunt? Oh, I don’t believe I’ve ever been more insulted in my life, Admiral - and I frequent a rough crowd.” The knife presses harder against her skin, drawing blood. “I am no soldier, but my crew will happily give you a fight if that’s what you want. Or should we resolve this like civilized people?” 

“Your crew?” Cordovin says, confused.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, apologies. Blake Belladonna, captain of the Black Cat. You may have heard of me: I am sometimes described as a bloodthirsty savage.”

The blood drains from Cordovin’s face. “What do you want?” she whispers, weakly. 

***

“I don’t get it. Why haven’t they attacked yet?” Weiss says, furiously pacing on the quarterdeck. Yang shrugs, just as confused. They’ve cautiously approached the scene, and she has a good view through her spyglass. The Black Cat has slid smoothly next to the Iron Boot, but nothing else has happened, no cannon fired, no attempt to board the Atlas ship. 

“Negotiations?” she wonders out loud. 

“The Atlas Navy would never negotiate with pirates,” Weiss dismisses, sharply.

Yang glances at her. Weiss was once part of the Atlas Navy, a promising young officer, before her father threw her out and she ended up on Yang’s ship. She’s always tense when they encounter the Navy. 

“Are we attacking or what?” Ruby asks, impatiently, stepping up the ladder to join them on the quarterdeck. She’s pointing her flint pistol in the direction of the ships. 

“No,” Yang says. “I want to know what Belladonna’s plan is before we do anything.”

She focuses again on the spyglass, studying the situation quietly, until - “There, that’s her.”

In the small circle of the magnifying glass, she watches Blake walk across the gangplank from the Atlas ship to hers, holding another person in front of her. “Hostage?” Yang murmurs, frowning.

The plank is pulled back, and the Black Cat’s crew raises their sails. The ship moves away, slowly. 

“They’re leaving!” Ruby warns. 

“Yeah, I can see that, but why…” Yang cuts herself off as, with one swift, brutal kick, Blake pushes her prisoner overboard.

But this isn’t what leaves Yang open-mouthed and shocked silent. It’s the fact that Blake is waving at her. Clearly aware that she’s being watched. Even worse, she’s full-on smirking. 

For a while, there’s nothing Yang can do but stare. Blake’s black curls are neatly tucked under her tricorn hat, but instead of her usual dark clothes, she’s wearing the uniform of an Atlas soldier - light blue vest opened on a crisp white shirt, white breeches, sturdy boots. Yang may despise the Navy, but damn if their uniform doesn’t look splendid on Blake Belladonna. 

And then, it dawns on Yang exactly why Blake’s grinning : the roll of parchment held tight, victoriously, in her right hand.

***

Later that evening, Yang stands on the upper deck, thinking. The Summer Thorn is anchored in Menagerie Bay, and Kuo Kuana sprawls in front of her, past the docks, beautiful and dangerous. Remnant’s very own capital of piracy, and notoriously neutral territory, is awake with the raucous sounds of pirates drinking, dancing, eating, singing, and in all probability, fucking. Even the lawless roaming the sea need a place to rest.

The night has fallen. Lights twinkle on the shore, from bonfires and taverns. Behind the town looms the dark jungle.

“So that’s it, then,” Weiss says, mournfully. Yang almost jumps ; she didn’t hear her come near. “We lost the map to Salem’s treasure. We’re done.”

“Not yet.”

Weiss rests her elbows on the wooden railing. The moon reflects off her eyepatch, and her white hair. It makes her look otherworldly - like a ghost.

“We can’t fight them in Menagerie, Yang, it’s neutral territory. We’d be banned from the island.”

“Fighting ain’t the only way to get what you want,” Yang says, slowly.

Weiss frowns. “Stealing? That’s almost as bad if we’re caught. And after today, the Black Cat is gonna be well guarded.”

“She won’t have it on the ship.” Weiss looks at her, surprised. Yang grins. “Belladonna is too careful, and too damn proud, to leave the map under anyone’s supervision but hers. She’s definitely keeping it on her person while they’re out tonight, celebrating their victory. And you know what she loves more than winning? Bragging about it. To me, specifically.”

There’s a pause. Weiss raises an eyebrow, as understanding washes over her face. “You don’t mean to… Yang, there’s no way she’s gonna fall for that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She will fall for me.”

***

Blake sits in a corner of the main room in the Sailors’ Luck tavern. Candles fill the space with dim, flickering light, while the roars of laughter and drunken singing seem to bounce off the stone walls. The air is stale with the smell of sweat and alcohol and unwashed clothes, hot and unpleasantly humid, but Blake has never been happier. They pulled off the whole plan perfectly. 

Sun comes back from the bar with two cups of ale and slides in on the bench beside her. “To another victory!” They clink their glasses. Blake pats the left side of her jacket, feeling the bulky shape of the map tucked in the inside pocket. “You did great today,” she tells Sun, who was in charge of the Black Cat while she was posing as an Atlas soldier on the Iron Boot.

He grins, but before he can answer, the door opens. Captain Xiao Long and the crew of the Summer Thorn walk in, greeted by cheers and shouts. They are a popular bunch among the pirates of Menagerie Bay, respected both for their ruthlessness and their generosity. Xiao Long strides toward the bar, smile locked in place. Blake studies her, tense, looking for signs of a threat. But Yang looks like any other sailor on leave - she’s wearing an old, worn-out brown shirt under a simple sleeveless waistcoat, and the orange sash tied effortlessly around her hips doesn’t conceal any weapons. Even her hook sports an innocent-looking blunt tip. Blake bites her lower lip, mind racing. Yang Xiao Long should be plotting revenge right now, not walking into a tavern like nothing’s wrong and Blake didn’t just steal her prize from under her. 

Across the room, Yang turns around, purposefully looking straight at her. Blake isn’t fast enough to avoid her gaze, and their eyes meet. Shit. Yang grabs two glasses from the bar, and makes her way to Blake, not once looking away.

“Uh oh,” Sun whispers. “Trouble incoming.”

“I can handle her.”

“Captain Belladonna, First Mate Wukong,” Yang greets them with a pleasant smile. “Care if I join you?”

“Take a seat,” Blake says. Sun waves awkwardly.

Yang sits, and pushes one of the drinks towards Blake. “To congratulate you,” she says, looking at Blake unabashedly. ”On such an unexpected win.”

“Don’t drink that,” Sun mutters. Yang raises an eyebrow.

“I would never harm one of our own on neutral territory. And frankly, I resent the accusation.”

“Sure you do.”

Yang’s pleasant demeanor doesn’t change, but, somehow, her smile turns dangerous. The sight does something weird to Blake’s stomach, the way a sudden wave might make her feel briefly unbalanced. “If I wanted to take your captain out, I wouldn’t do it secretly. When I kill, it’s with a blade, not poison. I’m no coward.”

“Is that a threat?” Sun balks, half out of his seat.

Blake grabs his arm, stopping him from reaching for his dagger. “Sun, can you give us a minute?”

“… Fine,” he says, reluctantly.

He sends her one last look before stalking off to the bar. Blake watches him go. Sun is her most loyal friend, and fiercely protective of her. He’s been at her side since the very beginning, when she wasn’t anyone’s captain, and the Black Cat was Adam’s. Blake is thankful for him, always, but sometimes he forgets that she can take care of herself.

And, maybe, she’s looking forward to dealing with Captain Xiao Long on her own.

“So,” Blake says, fingers closing around the cup Yang brought her. She can’t help smirking a bit. “You wanted to congratulate me.”

Yang brings her own cup to her lips. She takes a long gulp. “I don’t know how you did it, but you bested me.”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

Yang’s eyes flash with a tinge of red - like a spark of lightning before thunder. Blake’s smirk widens. She loves this. Most pirates in Kuo Kuana fear her, and the rest pity her. They’ve heard the tales of Blake and the Black Cat, how she lead the mutiny against Adam Taurus, how she fought him and killed him and took his place. They’re weary of her. Not Yang, though. In the few years they’ve known each other, competing for the same gold, sailing on the same sea, Yang Xiao Long has been an infuriating rival, yes, but one who treats Blake with respect. And even, sometimes, a sort of playful camaraderie, that…

“How did you learn about the Iron Boot? About the map they carried?” Yang asks, interrupting Blake’s thoughts. She’s leaning back in her chair now, her hook draped on the backrest. The position highlights the muscles of her arms, visible under the tight shirt, the solid knots of her shoulders, the line of her neck. 

Blake sips her drink. “I have my ways.”

She expects Yang’s eyes to flash angrily again, but Yang laughs instead. The sound makes something heat at the bottom of Blake’s stomach. “So mysterious, Belladonna.” She pauses to think.”Was it that girl of yours? The quiet one? Did you send her to eavesdrop on my crew?”

She means Ilia, Blake’s boatswain - and occasional scout. “Maybe,” Blake says, noncommittal. 

Yang licks her lips. “Or was it you?” Blake can’t look away from her mouth, hypnotized, the way they say sailors can’t turn away from the song of sirens. “Sneaking onto my ship, into my cabin, reading my logs, peering over my maps?”

Blake doesn’t deny it, even though she did, in fact, send Ilia. She’s never set foot on the Summer Thorn. Yang’s voice turns husky. “It’s too bad, Belladonna. If I’d known you were there, I would have given you a show.”

“Why would I want that?” Blake protests, unconvincingly.

“Oh, Blake,” Yang says. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?”

Maybe it’s the words, unveiling so carelessly a truth Blake's never even admitted to herself, maybe the voice, low and wicked and tender all at once, maybe simply Yang saying her name for the first time - but Blake finds herself unable to speak. Spellbound. 

“Qrow always saves me a room when I’m in town. Last door on the right - join me for the night, Captain.”

Without waiting for Blake’s response, Yang gets up and makes her way back to the crowded bar. Blake watches her talk to Qrow, the tavern owner, before disappearing up the stairs.

She waits a minute, two, finishes her drink, scans the crowd. Sun is busy flirting with a local. No one is paying attention to her. She follows Yang upstairs.

As soon as she steps inside the room, Yang closes the door behind her. “Is this an ambush?” Blake teases.

“Of sorts.” Yang places her human hand flat against Blake’s stomach, and pushes lightly until her back hits the wall. Blake looks at Yang’s mouth. She feels almost dizzy with desire, imagining those lips on her. Yang steps closer. She rests her hook near Blake’s face, against the wall. There’s a flash of hesitation in her eyes, as she exhales, lips parted, looking at Blake, waiting… Blake grabs the collar of Yang’s shirt, and pulls her down. She’s done with waiting. She has a victory to celebrate.

They kiss. Yang’s lips taste like rum with a faint hint of salt. Blake slides a thigh between Yang’s legs, greedy, and slips her tongue inside Yang’s mouth when she moans. 

It’s a great kiss, so great that when Yang pulls back to breathe, Blake lets out a small whimper of protest. Smiling, Yang brings her hand up to Blake’s face, holding her jaw with warm calloused fingers, staring at her. The wonder in her eyes takes Blake’s breath away, like a kick in the chest. She touches Yang’s hook, softly, the smooth, cold metal, fingers trailing up to the leather gauntlet and the wooden stump, following up Yang’s arm to the hard point of her elbow, the taut muscle of her bicep. Yang swallows. Her cheeks are dusted with pink, and Blake suddenly wants nothing more than to spend days touching her, exploring with her fingertips the fierce Dragon of the seas. For a moment, they slow to a halt, Blake’s hand on Yang’s arm, Yang’s eyes on her mouth, and it feels like they’re on the brink of something - 

And then, Yang spins Blake around so that she’s facing the wall, and Blake doesn’t think about anything anymore but the press of Yang’s warm body against her back.

***

When Blake wakes up, a few hours later, Yang is long gone.

So is the map. 

***

“Xiao Long!”

The voice carries far, reaching the prowl of the ship, and Yang’s ears. She peers over board.

Blake Belladonna stands on the docks in front of the Summer Thorn, framed by Sun Wukong and Ilia Amitolia, long fitted purple coat flowing in the breeze, hair tied under a black tricorn hat with a broad golden brim, two sharp sabers hanging from her belt. Her face is grim, her eyes cold. Yang feels a pang of remorse, which she promptly swallows down.

She tips her own hat. “Captain. What can I do for you?” She puts some charm in her voice, aware of the eyes of her crew on them both. 

Blake glares. “I want the map.”

Yang caresses the wooden railing of the Summer Thorn, nonchalantly. “Which one? I got plenty of ‘em.”

“The one you stole from us!” Ilia retorts, impatiently, raising her flint pistol. Ruby reacts in a heartbeat, her own weapon aimed at Ilia, ready to fire. 

The last thing Yang wants is an outward brawl - not so close to their goal. She puts her hands out, looking at Blake. ��I’m sure we can solve this without bloodshed, Captain.”

Blake’s face doesn’t change. “I want a duel. You owe me as much.” Yang considers her. Blake is deadly with a blade, and deadlier with two. She’s never fought her, but she’s watched, and heard enough, to know they are evenly matched. Accepting shouldn’t even cross her mind.

But Blake is right - Yang owes her. She may be a pirate, but it won’t be said she won without honor. And last night felt… She nods. “Deal.”

“Yang, no,” Weiss whispers furiously. “What if you lose?”

Yang grins. “Have you so little faith in me?” To Blake, she yells, “Come aboard, you and your people. Let’s have ourselves a duel, Belladonna.”

In a matter of minutes, the deck is cleared. Yang and Blake face each other in the middle, alone. Everyone else has scattered to the sides, leaving them ample space to move. The rules are simple: the first one to say the words “I surrender” loses. Winner gets the map.

Yang has shed her vest and hat, and rolled the sleeves of her shirt above the elbows, baring the part where her arm ends and the metal hook begins. Her hair is tamed under her orange handkerchief, to keep from falling in her eyes. In her other hand, she twirls her cutlass. 

Blake is wielding both her swords. She watches Yang, lips pressed in a stubborn line. Yang doesn’t know if it’s wishful thinking, or if she really catches Blake’s eyes lingering a bit too long on the dip of her shirt.

But there’s no time for such considerations. Weiss blows her quartermaster whistle - the fight begins.

They circle each other, eyes sharp, careful. Yang tries a few hits. Blake blocks them all easily. not once breaking a sweat. She retaliates, but Yang parries with her blade, and makes her stumble backward.

It’s like that for a while - the two of them testing each other - until Blake suddenly picks up the pace. She darts on the left, twirls around Yang, fences on her right, slashing a line of fire on Yang’s shoulder. She’s so quick, Yang barely dodges her next hit, a stab to the chest. She manages to knock Blake’s sword away, but not before it snags a button off her shirt, leaving her collarbones exposed. 

Blake retreats, a satisfied little smile playing at the corner of her mouth. Yang, breathing a bit heavily, laughs. “Belladonna, you’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get my clothes off.”

“You and I both know that’s not true,” Blake retorts. She’s trying hard for indifference, but Yang notices the way her jaw tightens. She uses the distraction, and charges. 

Blake puts up a good fight, but under the full strength of Yang’s assault, she has no other choice but to fall back. Soon, Yang has her pressed to the railing. She takes a wide swipe at her. Blake, in an impressive demonstration of acrobatic skills, jumps up and backward, feet landing on top of the railing as Yang’s blade sinks into the wood. But the railing is damp with seawater, and Blake slips. Just before she falls overboard, Yang catches her by the belt, stabilizing her. Blake exhales in surprise. Yang winks. "You know, I can think of a few easier ways to get you wet." 

Blake glares. She twists from Yang’s hold, vaults from the railing and reaches the main mast. Yang frees her weapon from the wood. She turns just in time to see Blake dropping her swords, spinning around the mast and using one of the sailing ropes to launch herself at Yang.

She’s unarmed, yet she’s never been more terrifying. There’s nothing Yang can do to evade the attack - Bake is coming too fast. So instead, Yang drops her weapon as well, and opens her arms, catching Blake by the waist as she drives her boots into Yang’s ribcage. They both tumble to the ground in a mess of limbs. Yang’s back hits the planks of the deck, hard. Blake lands on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs. 

Dizzy, eyes burning with instinctive tears at the pain, Yang doesn’t move. Something small and sharp presses against the skin of her neck. When she looks up, Blake is sitting on her hips, holding a knife to her throat. Yang’s heart beats fast, a mix of adrenaline and fear and something else. Something exhilarating. From so close, she can see the sweat on Blake’s brow, she can feel the flex of Blake’s legs around her. The sun, high in the sky, is eclipsed by the gold of Blake’s eyes. 

Blake smiles. "Not the first time I’ve found you in a compromising position, Captain Xiao Long,” she says, with the smooth satisfaction of someone who thinks they’ve won.

Yang commits this sight to memory, Blake victorious, smug, on top of her. Then she pushes her heels against the deck, grabs Blake’s wrist, twists, and with one powerful jerk, dislodges Blake while making her drop the knife. ”If my memory is correct,” Yang says, wincing as pain flares in her wounded shoulder, “I was the one on top."

There’s a brief scuffle, but Blake’s no match for Yang in hand-to-hand combat. It ends with Blake forced on her knees, the tip of Yang’s hook tilting her chin up. Yang breathes out, once, twice. Her crew is cheering. She did it: the map is hers. And yet…

Blake’s eyes are locked on hers, refusing to look away. She’s not cowering in defeat - quite the opposite. Yang reads defiance in her eyes, and pride in the thin line of her mouth, and suddenly Yang’s heart breaks at the idea of making Blake yield. She can’t do it. She’s not the Navy ; she won’t take pleasure in crushing a brave spirit under her heel for the sake of victory.

So before Blake can say anything, she pulls her hook back, and says, loud enough for everyone to hear, “I surrender”. 

***

Blake follows Yang to her cabin, blood beating in her throat. She’s not sure what she expects, but it’s certainly not the cup of rum Yang offers her. 

She takes it, surveying the room. There’s a bed, in the corner, and a massive desk of polished wood, covered in maps and papers and navigation tools. Yang pushes the mess away from one edge, so she can hop on the desk and sip her own drink.

“Good fight,” she says. Her eyes are on Blake. Her face is sweaty, flushed, eyes still tinted red. Suddenly, Blake can’t look at her. Instead she points at the blood staining Yang’s shirt.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Later.”

There’s a silence. Blake downs the rest of her drink, and steels her nerves.

“Why did you bring me here?” she demands, calmly. “You could have won.”

Yang’s finger follows the rim of her glass. “I’m… sorry I took that map from you.”

Blake cocks her head. That’s unexpected. Pirates don’t apologize for stealing - it’s what they do.

“I’m especially sorry for the way I did it.” Yang looks up. There’s regret in her eyes, and something underneath it, something raw and powerful and vulnerable that has Blake blinking, her chest hurting with sudden emotion. “But this map is important to me. To my crew. We want to take down the Atlas Navy, Blake. We want to get rid of them once and for all, so we can make the ocean our home without being constantly hunted. But to do that, I need gold.”

She pauses again. Blake’s stomach is bubbling with excitement.

“I need to find Salem’s treasure. And the map I stole from you is our only lead.”

“You want to go after the Navy?” Blake asks, low and hopeful. She’s considered it before, of course - an all-out fight against the people who want them dead - but she never thought they stood a chance. Her wild, joyous, brave, undisciplined crew against the full might and resources of Atlas. 

Yang looks her in the eye. “I do. And I don’t want to have to fight you. I want to fight the Navy with you.”

Blake considers the offer. It’s an easy choice.

“Partners?” she asks, raising her glass.

“Partners,” Yang replies, raising hers. 

And they drink, staring at each other, to new beginnings.

#bumbleby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #sometimes we publish fics to cope #rwby #go reblog the fanart though i love it so much...

[archidrews]

best parts of the “farewell to arrow” panel, in no particular order

the one person who called stephen out about his socks, prompting the camera to spend a full minute focused on his ankles

emily composing a love letter to the cookie jar she wanted to steal from set and stephen having no idea what she was talking about

“have you ever worn a superhero suit? like, outside of cosplay? ... WELL I HAVE, AND IT’S AWESOME.”

the girl who straight up told them she hadn’t watched arrow and stephen going “hey erin? why are you here??”

“do you have an internet connection?” “yes” “do you have netflix?” “no i’m in college i can’t afford it” “okay... pirate bay?”

every time a spoiler was mentioned from that moment on, stephen or emily going “erin cover your ears”

stephen bought 17 of the same t-shirt and has 12 pairs of the same pants, 6 of each in grey and navy blue, and that’s all he wears

“well aside from the occasional smooch and getting out of bed together, it’s the same relationship as with diggle.” “yeah the scenes of you getting out of bed with diggle got cut”

#c2e2 #c2e2 2020 #stephen amell #emily bett rickards #arrow #arrow cast #dctv cast #olicity

[winterironspiderling]

Hello, dear! In a first place - how are you these days? Do you mind to write a Bucky whose trying to flirt and constantly trying to ask Peter on a date and completely clueless Peter who thinks Bucky is just nice and friendly to him, because why would so gorgeous and handsome guy want to date him for real?!

Hello, I’m okay! How are you?? 🖤

Sure I don’t mind writing that. I hope you’ll like it. :)

//

“You know,” Bucky said, “If you need help with hand to hand combat...we could train together sometime.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “That’s okay, man. I appreciate it, but I don’t wanna put you out. My webs are enough to keep the bad guys at bay.”

“Sure,” Bucky tried not to act disappointed, but it was like the seventh time Peter had rejected him. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

//

“Hey, be a doll, and pass that would ya?” Bucky smiled at Peter and held out his hand. He could’ve easily walked across the kitchen island and grabbed his abandoned glass of water, but it was a good excuse to chat with Peter.

Peter grabbed the glass and frowned. “Dude, this is warm. You should probably get a new glass.” He dumped it out and placed the cup in the dishwasher, got Bucky a new glass, filled it, and slid it across the counter to him.

“Good call,” Bucky said, taking a sip of the cold water. “So, speaking of drinks...do you ever go out?”

Peter laughed, “Uhh, not really. I’m not 21, sooo...”

“Right, well we could open a bottle sometime. We can drink it here. Play some cards?”

“Wow, that’s nice if you. It’s all right though, I’m sure you have better things to do than sit in the kitchen with me.”

“Not really,” Bucky disagreed. “It would be fun.”

“I’m not very good at cards...you’d get annoyed.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

Peter deliberated like he wanted to say yes, but then he stopped. “That sounds fun, but I dont know... But, hey, I’ll see you later. I gotta go meet Ned.”

“Okay,” Bucky held up his hands. Another strike.

//

“What are you doing this weekend?” Bucky asked.

Peter looked up from his holo-pad and smiled. “Oh hey, man. Nothing really. Just working on some suit mods. Maybe do a little gaming.”

Perfect, Bucky thought. This was his chance. How could Peter say no when he didn’t have any concrete plans?

“How about you?” Peter added.

“I’m not doing anything, either. Wanna see a movie?”

Peter raised his eyebrows. “You want to see a movie? With me?”

“Yeah, pretty sure that’s what I said,” Bucky teased.

Peter scrunched his face. “Wait a minute. Did Tony put you up to this?”

“Tony? No.”

“That’s funny ‘cause I said to him I had nothing to do this weekend...now all of a sudden you’re asking me to go to the movies? I’m good, but thanks for the pity offer.”

“It’s not a pity offer...maybe for me it is since I can’t even get a teenager to hang around with me.”

Peter laughed. “If there’s anything good playing at the theatre, I’ll just pirate it for you. You don’t have to waste your time going with me.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bucky shook his head. “You’re a tough cookie to crack.”

“It’s cool of you to ask me to hang out since you know I don’t really have anyone my age around, and Tony must’ve told you, but it’s really okay. You don’t have to feel sorry for me.”

Bucky sighed. He wanted to argue and explain that Peter was being ridiculous, and oblivious, and completely impossible, but he wasn’t going to beg. If Peter wanted to say yes, he would’ve already.

//

“Cute shirt,” Bucky complimented.

Peter looked around as if he assumed Bucky was talking to someone else.

“Me?” Peter asked. “Thanks. It’s just something I picked up at the thrift store.”

“The thrift store?” Bucky frowned. “Stark lets you shop at the thrift store?”

Peter shrugged. “He teases me, but I told him I’m not spending a thousand dollars on a shirt no matter what my allowance is.”

Bucky nodded. “Is there a thrift store around here?”

“Oh yeah. Just a few minutes drive. I usually just swing.”

“Cool. Wanna go?”

Peter frowned. “You wanna go to a thrift store?”

“Why not?”

“Well Steve said you used to be rich when you were kids...I wouldn’t think thrift stores were your scene.”

“That was a long time ago...let’s go. You can help me pick something out.”

“Seriously?”

Bucky sighed. “Forget it.”

“No, no... I do wanna go,” Peter admitted. “I just...I don’t understand why you’d wanna go with me. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Doesn’t make any sense? Are you kidding?”

“What? Am I missing something?”

“Peter, I’ve been trying to ask you out for months, and you reject me every time. I was this close to giving up.”

“Ask me out? Like dates? Like you want to date me?

“That was the idea...”

“But why? That’s ridiculous.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. “You’re adorable. Smart. Funny. Stubborn. Generous...you’re an absolute sweetheart. I’d be crazy not to try my hand at bagging a doll like you.”

“Bucky... I don’t know what to say,” Peter blushed. “You’re like...super hot, gorgeous, and wayyy out of my league. I thought you were just trying to be nice to me because you’re a friendly guy—which made it even worse because that means you’re the whole package. I’m so embarrassed.”

“The last thing you should be is embarrassed.”

Peter ducked his head. “I had no idea you liked me. That makes me oblivious.”

“Well I do,” Bucky replied.

Peter shifted his weight while he considered the situation.

“So how about that date? I’ve been waiting a while to get a yes from you.”

“Are you sure? Like this isn’t some trick?”

“Trick? Of course not. How could you think that?”

“It’s like I said...you’re way out of my league. I can’t understand how someone like you would even bother—“

“Stop that,” Bucky said. “If you don’t think you’re good enough for me, I don’t know what to tell you. You’re a thousand times better than me. Your heart is so pure, Peter. You’re kind. One of the most worthy people I’ve ever met, and you better believe I want you because I do. Ask anyone around. They’ve all been teasing me about it.”

Peter ran a hand through his hair. “Geez...that’s. That’s a lot to process, but I mean...I trust your judgment since you’re the best strategist on the team.”

“Let’s start with that then,” Bucky smiled.

“Okay,” Peter agreed.

“Okay,” Bucky echoed. “Let’s go to that store then. We’ll drive instead of swing—if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure. That sounds amazing.” Peter hesitated for a moment before going on his tippy toes and kissing Bucky on the cheek.

Bucky blushed and touched his cheek. “Thank you.”

#winterspider