We did yin yoga this morning, or lots of long-holding stretches. Here is how I feel about yin yoga: A++++++++++++++. And my awesome, beautiful-voiced, unbelievably flexible yoga teacher remembered my name. Not "Nina," "Nivair," bitches. And she pronounced it right. And I haven't been in a month and a half because of film class. Basically, my yoga school wins.
Also, I finally have my downloaded seasons of The West Wing on my new hard drive. Season 1 has disappeared without a trace, apparently, so I'll have to reacquire that (darn), but I am watching The West Wing for the first time in months and it is beautiful. The good thing about a show like The West Wing is that it is incredibly high-quality and accurate and full of educational things, so you don't feel like a complete moron for holing yourself up in your apartment for hours on end devouring it. The bad thing about it, however, is that that very same quality makes it impossible to write really good porny fanfiction for the show. And with that in mind, we'll move on to The X-Files. :D
I have always wanted to be part of an EPIC PORN BATTLE ever since I realized that such things existed, and through
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fireworkfiasco, NOW I AM! Not that it in any way compares to the fireworkfiasco/trolliepop Team of Awesomeness, but you know. So here's what I'm going to do: I'm going to toss three (or four, or five :P ) fic recommendations your way, and then pie_is_good (and anyone else who wants a try!), I challenge you. Comment and let's go.The NC-17 Mulder/Scully Revue, Part I
Okay, this first one isn't NC-17, so it might be cheating, but I'll do three NC-17 recs after this, I promise.
Stakeout Through the Heart by Barbara D.
I nearly snorted out my Cheez-Its while reading this, at least seven times. And this writer is clearly a woman after my own heart; she's got a terrible, lame title for a really great fic. None of my titles have ever been good, either. Barbara D., I salute you.
Covenant II by Rhondda Lake
For fuck's fucking sake, she describes Scully and her barometer tests. A seriously well-written X-file with the hottest sex, like, ever. 9 MILLION GOLD STARS! Also the first Covenant ain't a bad idea either; it is seriously shazam. Seriously.
Playing Goddess by Shalimar
This quote says it all:
"Did you know, Mulder, that federal law doesn't consider nudity in federal parks a crime?"
"Darn. Now we can't arrest each other."
FOR SRS.
Contact High by Penumbra
leiascully already knows that it would be criminal not to rec something by Penumbra, and the rest of you will learn it soon. "Contact High" has spoilers for an episode I haven't even seen yet, but I read it wayway back when I wasn't as pathetically involved as I am now and didn't care about spoilers. Plus, they're not that huge, and certainly not important to the mythology. So read it, dudes.Sal from 4C by MD1016 & Dianora
Okay, I might as well add in a humor rec after all that straight-up hotness. And "Sal from 4C" is an excellent candidate -- beacuse if you don't love Drunk!Mulder, you probably don't love anything.
Author recs: Shalimar, Penumbra, Karen Rasch, MD1016, Khyber, Leyla Harrison, Madeleine Partous, and a bunch more that I am forgetting now and will include next time. But that should keep you occupied for awhile. ;)
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chasethestars
chasethestars
Comments
JUST FYI I WILL TOTALLY PARTAKE LATER. WHEN MY BOYFRIEND IS DOING HIS HOMEWORK LATER. (I'm visiting him right now.)
I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW THAT I AM NOT DENYING YOUR CHALLENGE.
If you want to start in the meantime, feel free. ;)
HAVE FUN WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. WE WILL PORN!BATTLE LATER AND IT WILL BE EPIC.
...TWSS.
YOU START THIS TIME. ;)
(that icon is so epically beautiful. HAVE YOU SEEN THE SEASON 2 TRAILER?! WE GET OUR LEE BACK OCT. 1 AND HE WEARS A FREAKING HOODIE. <33333333)
::
He shows up at her door twelve minutes past two in the morning, when the night sky isn't just black, it's inky and thick. There's the stale reek of pub around him, and sunflower seed shells clinging to his fingertips.
"Scully," he says, with that subtle lift to his eyebrows that tells her he's in a sloppy, flirty mood. "You're looking--ravishing."
She rolls her eyes as he towers crookedly over her, clinging to the door jam. "What do you want, Mulder?"
He looks away, thumb tracing the carved lines in the framing around the door. When he shrugs, his wide shoulders swell to fit the doorway. "Wanted--wanted to be sure you were still--still here."
I really hope you have seen "One Breath" by now. But since you have been going at a breakneck pace I figured it was safe to assume. DON'T HATE ME PLZ <33333!
::
"Mulder?" she asks, in that are-you-really-about-to-bring-up-extraterrestrials voice.
He meets her eyes again. He looks almost scared, far more contrite than he usually does when she's bringing him back to Earth.
"Mulder, just how drunk are you right now?"
"I did vodka shots," he admits, and grins crookedly. But before she can sigh, or tell him to go home, the grin turns into something else entirely. He looks at the concrete ground just outside her doorjamb and his forehead wrinkles, aging him five years at least.
His next words are mumbles, so low she can barely hear them.
"You should have seen the way they looked at me," he says. "Your mother. And -- Melissa."
All you need is Lee.
ALSO: I am LOL'ing over the "door jam" in my first comment because wtf is that. meftl. :|
::
She doesn't know what to say. Either they'd been far too curious for their own good--there's a reason she doesn't introduce men to her mother--or they'd been surly and angry--which, knowing Melissa, was a definitely possibility.
Mulder almost slides sideways off the jamb and then catches himself at the last moment, a palm against the door above her shoulder. The vodka rolls off him in waves, thick and heady, and she tries not to let on that looking up at him makes her knees tremble the tiniest bit.
But only because he's so--
Well. She clears her throat and glances over her shoulder at the empty apartment. "I--I don't know what to say, Mulder. They're--they're very protective, I guess, and I--"
He cuts her off by lurching backwards, hitting the far wall with a thump and sinking into a mess of awkward limbs and tousled hair. "It was my fault, and they wouldn't let me do anything, Scully. It was my fault."
Um, I had to look up "doorjamb." Don't even worry about it. It's a weird-fuck word and you shan't be bothered with it. So there!
::
She rushes to him like he's fallen in battle, and then wants to slap herself for doing so. The smell's even stronger from over here: Russian potatoes turned to antifreeze, clinging to a suit that's been on more than eighteen hours now. Scully sighs, and wraps her hands around his arms.
"Come on inside, would you?" she mutters. His lips jut out in a childlike sulk, but he lets her pick him up to his feet, drag him toward the door. He closes the door behind him and she looks him in the eyes, just as she used to look at him almost every morning -- before --
He sinks back against the door handle.
"Mulder, come on," she says, and this time grabs his hand.
Edited 2008-08-05 05:41 am (UTC)
HOLY FUCK NINA I LOVE YOU. AND
***
It is 7:12 A.M. and a morning just like any other. Fox Mulder has hit his snooze button three times, and the sun has the uncanny power to shine right into his face no matter what direction he faces or how many blankets he puts over his head. And there is a naked woman in his bed.
His eyes suddenly open. Last he checked, that last part wasn't really normal.
He rolls over to see messy red hair strewn all over the pillow next to him.
Fuck, he thinks, and suddenly realizes he can't remember anything about last night.
Fuck.
Edited 2008-08-03 05:31 pm (UTC)
:D :D :D :D
***
Dana Scully feels movement behind her, and slowly opens her eyes to motel sunshine. She's in Nebraska ... some podunk town, she can't even remember the name.
She's surprised she's remembering anything, after last night. She's got a vague image of the row of taps at the bar, of the red-and-gold Stella Artois label on her bottle, of Mulder's laughing face and the way it pissed her off that he was twice as sober on twice as many beers. She can't recall the reason they started drinking; she only sees the darkness of the motel ceiling, feels Mulder's palm on her cheek, hears the water running through the bathroom's open door. And now this: a window, the morning.
Her head hurts.
When she breathes in she realizes she's still wearing her bra -- as well as a blouse, a skirt, and pantyhose, apparently -- and shifts automatically in discomfort. Her shoulder connects with someone else's: a warm, male someone else.
"Scully?"
He tries again.
"Scully?"
This time it's more of a statement then a question.
"Mulder?" she almost whispers, as if saying it quietly would make him disappear.
He rolls over to put a hand on her arm and realizes she's not quite as naked as he thought. She still wearing all her clothes, but they're on her all wrong. Her shirt is unbuttoned and has fallen half-way down her back; her skirt is crooked and pushed up; and her panty-hose are down to her ankles.
He the realizes he is only in his boxers.
"Mulder, what am I doing here?" she asks, and he catches a hint of panic in her voice.
***
WTF, I seem incapable of typing the letter 's'!!
Edited 2008-08-04 11:34 am (UTC)
***
"Um, I don't know," he says, and the hand on her arm quivers, like he's afraid she might whip around and chop it off. "Do you feel ... okay?"
She's sore in some interesting places, she realizes. But it's best to protect him from that information.
"I'm fine, Mulder," she says, and sighs. She's experienced something wildly confusing and he's being useless: How atypical.
"Scully, uh, whatever happened --"
"Was probably nothing unusual," she finishes. "We got drunk ... for some reason. We stumbled into bed half-dressed like idiots because of the intoxication. I was too tired to ... use my key ..."
Scully still hasn't looked at him, but she knows. He's not buying it.
"Mulder," she says tentatively.
He lets out a long breath in response.
She has do say something.
"Mulder, I'm pretty sure we had sex."
Oh, god, she hadn't been planning on saying that something.
She feels him roll over to face her and does the same. His eyebrows are furrowed together with worry, eyes searching her face for some hint of how she's feeling, teeth biting and releasing his lower lip with nervousness.
"Scully, I..."
But she puts a finger over his mouth.
"I want to remember," she says, and then kisses him.
"This is a pretty good argument for going out drinking, Scully," he says when she stops for air. She looks at him impassively, like she always does when he's made a terrible joke, but in another half-second her mouth is on his again and she's sucking at his lips and his tongue, over and over.
His head is aching from the lack of sleep, but her lips feel as good as he's always imagined -- like tangerines, or cherries; bright and bursting and sweet.
"Scully," he mumbles against her mouth, and she just laughs.
"What, Mulder?"
"Are you sure you want to remember this?" he asks softly, and she pulls back to see that his eyes are still closed.
"Why, don't you?" she says, and his "Yes" comes back before she's even finished letting out the words.
She runs three fingers over his cheek. "Well, then," she says finally.
AND I AM GETTING THROUGH THE MIDDLEMAN I PROMISE. :P
+
Mulder's on the edge of his bed, a bag of sunflower seeds to the side. For the most part, he ignores them. He's not hungry, but it's a habit. He has a case file spread out in front of him, but he can't bring himself to care. The case couldn't be more routine, and if he's honest with himself, he's just bored.
He knows he's looking at it for something interesting, any new perspective. He's looking at it for a reason to walk out into the brisk November air, his hands stuffed in his pockets for the two second walk to Scully's room.
He doesn't find one, but it doesn't stop him from glancing down at his shoes on the floor and trying to will himself to slide them back on. He's just about put one foot on the floor when there's a knock at the door.
"Scully, is that you?"
"Yeah," he hears from outside. Mulder folds up the case file quickly, throwing it and the sunflower seeds on his end table. A photo nearly slides out of the folder and several sunflower seeds fall to the ground, but he doesn't have the time to care.
"Come in!" He yells with more exuberance than he intended, and he cringes in the moments before Scully's eyes can see him.
+
(MY PORN STARTS OFF NOT PORN.)
+
When she walks in she's not looking at him; she's muttering, distracted by the case file in her hands, and she closes the door behind her without even noticing she's doing it.
"Mulder, I think we need to re-evaluate our approach to this. Walter Fandell has a history of alcohol abuse, which makes him an ideal candidate for a symptom called delirium tremens -- I think that's what we might have been seeing in that interrogation room, and I'm not sure we can trust his story. Any of it."
Bored bored bored.
"Mulder? Are you listening to me?"
"Yes," he says at last, and their eyes meet finally, as she plops herself on the edge of the motel bed and lets the file drop to her lap.
"Mulder?"
"Yes, I'm listening," he repeats. "I suspected as much. I don't think anything he said was ever legitimate. I think I drove you out here on a wild goose chase, Scully. Sorry about that."
She snorts, looks at the ugly carpet.
"What?"
"It's just --" She smiles, and as ever, he wonders what he's done to deserve this curve of her lips, this light in her eyes, and he wishes he knew how to bring it back on cue. "It's just, you drag me out on wild goose chases all the time, and I don't think I've ever heard you apologize before."
"I always apologize!"
"Yeah," she says, laughing, the case file falling to the floor, now-useless papers fanning around her like rays of sunlight.
Something about her laughter makes him brave.
+
Not brave enough -- he realizes he only just closed the distance between them by about half -- but it's a start. He thinks about moving closer, but Scully stands, tidying up the papers she'd let fall to the ground. Once they're neatly in the folder, no corners of photographs or toxicology reports poking out the sides, she tucks the folder under her arm.
He knows she's thinking about leaving, and he's wondering why she isn't. He's not ready for her to leave, not yet, and there's just silence as he sits and she stands, one arm folded against her chest. Mulder opens his mouth to speak a few times, but nothing comes out. The third time, Scully laughs, trying to hide it behind the case file, but he can still see her cheeks stretch from the smile she blocked.
Mulder's not looking to get mocked.
"Scully, sit back down, will you?" Mulder asks. As soon as he says it, he realizes how it sounds, and he's kicking himself for not being a little more subtle.
"I was going to back to my room."
"I need to talk to you about something."
"Alright, Mulder," Scully says, setting herself down at the top of the bed, leaning against the floral throw pillows haphazardly thrown along the headboard. "I'll give you ten minutes."
Mulder did have every intention of talking.
Really, he did, but then he turns his head to speak and sees her, red hair standing out against the cream color that dominates the room.
Before he can think, he's closed the distance, one hand on either side of her and his lips against hers.
+
Scully's eyes close as the kiss begins, and then they fly open again -- her reflexes have just remembered themselves.
"Mulder, what are you doing?" she asks, but she doesn't sound angry; she's using that soft, low tone she has that makes his toes curl against the comforter.
"You don't want me to?" he mumbles. But his lips are still hot against hers, and she can't let them go to waste. She sucks in his upper lip, and he catches her mouth in his and sweeps her with his tongue. For a few moments the kiss depends, descending -- or ascending -- into territory they've never discovered. Mulder's her partner. She's packed and unpacked his suitcases; he's cleaned and polished her gun; but she's never sat with him like this on the bed, making out like they're in middle school.
Not that it feels anything like middle school.
She moves her fingers from the bed to his chest, tugging on his tie, pressing her hands to the place where his top button is undone.
"Scully, what are you doing?" he says, smiling against her lips. She gives him a shove -- shut up, I'm kissing you -- and when she does he grabs her around the waist and pulls her to him.
She straddles him, drawing her knees up so he can rest on his back against the pile of pillows at the headboard. He looks up at her.
"You're making my day so much better," he tells her.
She smiles, jerks her hips against him. He closes his eyes.
"Good," she says, and leans down into his body. She licks his neck in a long thin line, stopping at his ear to whisper: "Let's see if you can make mine any better."
A shiver runs down Scully's spine, but it's not a bad one. It's the sort of shiver that forces her to stop in the middle of unbuttoning Mulder's shirt, the sort that, when he feels her quiver above him, makes Mulder grin and laugh under his breath, an octave lower and breathier than usual.
But she recovers quickly, tearing open buttons as quickly as she can before he keeps her from it again. He works the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it carelessly on the floor as he's finally free from it, and Scully's running her hands along his now-bare chest.
His arms wrap around her at the waist, pulling her as close as he can, but she resists, scooting back as far as she can and still keep her lips against his. Her hands move across his chest, over his upper arms, and down, down, down, until she's tugging at a button and a zipper, and Mulder finds himself losing his pants.
He laughs.
"What?" Scully asks, recoiling from the sound.
"Oh, it's not you," Mulder says, sitting up as best he can with Scully on top of him again.
"What, then?"
"It's just...this doesn't seem very fair," he says, and he's gesturing at her fully clothed body.
Stakeout Through the Heart by Barbara D.: @ Gossamer (http://tooms.gossamer.org/display.php?StakeoutThroughTheHeart.Mmalone73); @ author's site (http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Capsule/4554/stakeout.html)
Covenant II by Rhondda Lake: @ Gossamer (http://tooms.gossamer.org/display.php?CovenantII); @ author's site (http://www.fortunecity.com/tattooine/halley/253/covenantii.txt)
Playing Goddess by Shalimar: @ Gossamer (http://tooms.gossamer.org/display.php?PlayingGoddess)
Contact High by Penumbra: @ Gossamer (http://tooms.gossamer.org/display.php?ContactHigh.Penumbra); @ author's site (http://www.underthewing.com/penumbra/contact.html)
Sal from 4C by MD1016 & Dianora: @ Gossamer (http://tooms.gossamer.org/display.php?SalFromFourC); @ author's site (http://www.geocities.com/mdsfanfic/Sal.txt)