salt & vinegar chips are snacks for fucking masochists. literally the entire flavour of the goddamn chip is “acetic acid, which will hurt your tongue, and then just salt on top of that to hurt it worse”. it’s brutal. this chip is designed to hurt you
op you are Weak
@ the anon who sent me a prompt: Im taking requests, it just might take me a while to write them if that’s okay with you.
Im taking my finals rn and its taking a little bit of a toll on me, but i swear im working on it :)
I’ve started to question my priorities since I was first diagnosed with cancer. And I feel like I’ve been given a second chance.
for @iconicscullyoutfits ♡
oxford-educated psychologist fox mulder really looked his partner in the eye and said “i’m not a psychologist” with his whole chest.
Such a cute comic! <3
I like the implication that the Chinese have mastered every human language and are only confounded by the speech of the undead.
suitablyaggrieved asked:
For a prompt, how about Mulder and Scully actually going to a team building seminar?
aliendyke answered:
Thank you!
Fictober Day 16, Prompt #8 “I’m not doing that again”
ao3 link prompt list @today-in-fic @xffictober
The coffee is terrible, the walls are drab, and the company is migraine-inducing. Some things truly never change, and these tell-tale signs of the annual FBI team building seminar are amongst them.
Mulder chews on the inside of his cheek and doodles flying saucers on his welcome packet as the agents in his “break out circle” go around and introduce themselves, sharing the nature of their jobs with the Bureau and one interesting personal fact apiece. He looks over his shoulder at a similar circle on the other side of the room, spotting the back of Scully’s head and her tense shoulders. Chances are that she’s just as miserable as him. At least if they hadn’t split partners up for the icebreaker they’d be able to share judgemental glances and commiserate, but no such luck.
When it’s his turn, he glances around the circle and into the faces of overzealous agents, on the edges of their seats as if he’s about to do a magic trick. Apparently it’s easier to get through the Academy than it used to be.
“My name is Fox Mulder, I work on the X-Files in DC, we investigate unexplained phenomena,” He says woodenly.
“And one interesting fact about you?” The group leader throws him an encouraging smile and he briefly wonders how he can get back at Skinner for making them attend this seminar. Maybe he’ll make his next report particularly long and pedantic.
Mulder puffs out a long, weary sigh. “Uh, my grandfather invented the microwave oven,” He lies in a deadpan. It’s the fourth false “fun fact” he’s come up with today, and so far nobody has called his bluff. Some of the other agents smile, impressed. If souls exist, Mulder’s withers a little bit.
When he and Scully reconvene, one glance at her expression tells him all he needs to know about her experience with the icebreakers.
“I’m not doing that again,” She whispers to him through gritted teeth as they take their seats for the next speaker. The itinerary lists the next speaker as a life coach versed in meditation and nebulous spirituality. He pats Scully’s shoulder, fearing for her clenched jaw and preparing for her inevitable rant in their hotel later.
As they are led through a meditation and told to sense each other’s emotions through breathing, Mulder tries his best and can almost feel the crushing weight of Scully’s annoyance with the exercise. He refuses to give credit to the meditation, since she’s also cutting off the circulation to his hand with hers.
At least the Bureau is covering the room charges, because he has a feeling their minibars will be empty by the end of the night.
