Log in

15 December 2010 @ 08:57 pm
Personality Disorder Test Results
Paranoid |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Schizoid |||||||||||| 46%
Schizotypal |||||||||||||||||||| 90%
Antisocial |||||||||||||||||| 74%
Borderline |||||||||||||||| 70%
Histrionic |||||||||||| 46%
Narcissistic |||||| 30%
Avoidant |||||||||||||| 54%
Dependent |||||||||||| 46%
Obsessive-Compulsive |||||||||| 38%
Take Free Personality Disorder Test
personality tests by similarminds.com
Current Mood: amusedamused
17 August 2010 @ 04:09 pm
"What do you want me to do with it." I'm not standing here holding a human head, I'm not standing here holding a human head....

"Just...hold it till I can get a medical waste bag to put it in and run it upstairs to the autopsy lab."

I stare at Scully, Leonard Betts' severed head held gently between gloved fingers. "You want me to stand here....and hold this...till you get a bag or whatever?"

"Quit being a whiner, Mulder, it's not as if you haven't touched a dead body before."

"Body being the operative word, Scully."
Current Mood: sicksick
17 August 2010 @ 04:03 pm
"You sure they won't catch us?"

Phoebe Green had this eloquent way of simultaneously smiling and rolling her eyes that made you feeling like a raging idiot and the world's most desirable man all at once.

"Fox, there's nothing up in that old bell tower but cobwebs and a few pigeons anyway. What, you afraid some crusty old rector will hear?" She paused on the step above me, trailing fingers up my arm through my thin shirt. "Besides, isn't it deliciously naughty having a good shag in a church. Like doing it in your grandmother's sitting room?"

"I don't know," I sigh as she takes my hand and pulls me up the stairs. "I can't say I've ever thought of terrifying Granny that much."
Current Mood: hornyhorny
17 August 2010 @ 02:39 pm
I picked up the dry rose petal, rough and jagged between my fingers.

Scully had left here without a word. We didn't speak of Ed Jerse anymore, or of the case in Philly. She had simply turned to her report, shutting me out, just as she had for months. She hadn't cared how terrified I was when I got the call she had been hurt, she hadn't cared that I could have cheerfully strangled her for getting caught up with some homicidal stranger who could have murdered her. It was her life, she said...I was to keep the hell out of it.

Clearly Scully had yet to catch on that it is my life as well.
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
17 August 2010 @ 02:33 pm
Even my father managed to show up for this. He didn't look pleased, but at least he was here. Mom must have bribed him with something to come to the ceremony.

"We present this Award of Commendation to Fox Mulder, for outstanding work and dutiful service." I dutifully took the small plaque, stood with my director, and posed for the flash of the lightbulb. I don't think Mom looked this proud when I graduated Oxford.

Dad on the other hand....

"Good work, son." He tried to put a pleased face on it, even though his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. I was surprised he wasn't heading for the drink table in the corner.

"Thanks, Dad." I took his hand, formally and cordially, the polite greeting of a father and son so long estranged that they didn't know what affection was anymore. "Glad you could come."
Current Mood: pleasedpleased
17 August 2010 @ 01:13 pm
I never saw Scully as a windchime person. Cute and kitchy isn't her.

"So is this the first step in your feminine attempts to girlify our home?"

She snorted at me but only smiled secretively, a Mona Lisa smile as she watched it in the breeze. "No, it's a reminder to me."

It was a deeply introspective moment. Scully had more of those lately.

"A reminder of what?" I hesitated at asking, fearing another painful answer.

"A reminder that sometimes you need to stop looking at what you lost and look at what you have in front of you." She smile broadened and deepened as her blue eyes turned to me. "A lesson we both should learn, eh?"

I can only agree, wrapping an arm around her. "When did my Dana Scully turn into Yoda?"
Current Mood: amusedamused
17 August 2010 @ 01:06 pm

It wasn't exactly a color I could make out easily, the subtle shades and hues of the most brilliant of colors often lost to my eyes. While I never saw it in shades of gray, I never saw the same intensity in it that other people did, the same fire in its depths, the same raging beauty.

Not till I was forced to sit across my tiny office from a red haired woman who shone so bright I thought I'd go blind from it. It was the thought that kept me sane in the darkest of times, the fire bringing me warmth and the light that guided me home.

I never knew how much I loved the color red till I met Scully.
Current Mood: thoughtfulthoughtful
17 August 2010 @ 12:51 pm
I could never sleep in motels.

I flipped on the bed, trying to find some comfortable spot, grunting when there was none on the standard double mattress. To short, to hard, to old...the springs creaked in protest as I flopped on my stomach, than rolled to my side.

I missed my couch.

No rest for the wicked tonight, I suppose. There was always television. The ghostly glow of the tube should put me out like a light eventually. Choices, choices...Planet of the Mole People or fuzzy, blocked out, third rate porn?

Wait...Bodacious Big Breasted Babes from Beta Seven...porn and bad science fiction. I guess you really can have your cake and eat it too!
Current Mood: tiredtired
17 August 2010 @ 12:44 pm
"Federal officer, just open it." I didn't care if I needed a warrant to get into Alex Krycek's apartment, his manager wasn't smart enough to know that. The woman rushed to unlock the door, eyes wide as they flickered from my badge to my face. The door swung open as I entered, weapon raised, eyes flickering across the scene.

If he had lived here, he was gone. The place was sterile, bare, a single chair, a single television, a kitchen that likely had never been used for anything more than take out. Angrily I kicked at the door to a bedroom with nothing more than an air mattress in it. Even the clothes, neatly pressed suits had been left behind.

He was gone, rabbited somewhere. Son-of-a-bitch!

"Has something happened to Mr. Krycek?" The middle-aged woman's large eyes blinked widely at the empty room, resting on my quickly darkening face.

"Not yet it hasn't," I growled cryptically, slamming down a plastic baggie filled with the remains and butts from the ashtray in the fleet car I'd let Krycek use that afternoon. Just in case he returned, I thought, then he could know that stupid Mulder had finally caught on to the treacherous bastard. "I can't guarantee that will be the case when I finally find him."
Current Mood: pissed offpissed off
"You can't catch me!" Before I could stop her Sam was off, her long braids flying behind her as she ran for the dock.

"Samantha!" Mom was going to kill me for letting her go down there by herself, she wasn't supposed to go, what if something happened to her...



"Samantha," I run as fast as my legs can carry me, bare feet slapping hard against the worn, rough wood. Below I hear her giggling, laughing up at me from the water as she clings to a rope hanging off the pier.

"I got you Fox, I did!"

"You are such a brat." I mutter as she laughs at me. Wonder if she would laugh if I cannonballed right on top of her head?
Current Mood: happyhappy