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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years

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DaveFarts - Episode 9 “Trapped In The Closet” [Episode List] Following the most blatant sit-com tropes you can think of, Dave decides to spy on his girlfriend, Dana, because he thinks she’s hiding something. Tim reluctantly decides to join his friend, but the two end up stuck in the girl’s closet, which will eventually turn into a gas chamber.

Trapped In The Closet

“Yeah Dana. Sure. No problem.”

Tim was working on some college tasks, but couldn’t help but to eavesdrop Dave’s conversation with his girlfriend, Dana, on the phone. He could only hear his friend’s replies, which being only the 50% of what they were talking about, it didn’t make a lot of sense. Not that he was interested: Dave was simply hanging out in his room because he had nothing better to do during that warm Summer evening, apparently, and so he simply showed up to Tim’s place with a couple of beers and a remarkable amount of procrastination powers.

Despite being relatively hot outside, Dave was wearing a t-shirt and a pair of long, grey levi jeans, kinda loose as usual. Something that Tim hated about his kink is how quickly he checked his friend’s outfit, something that he always did since Dave is now basically his “fart bud”, against all odds.

“Yeah… yeah… I love you. No… I love you more!”

Kinda funny how Dave, 24, would revert back to an awkward teenager at times whenever he and his girlfriend were on the phone. They probably even acted like that on purpose, because love is doing stupid things together after all.

“Tim. Car. Now!”

Dave hung up and turned weirdly serious, got up and walked downstairs, saying something about getting in the car.

“Wait, what?” Tim asked, questioning whether his friend was being serious or not, but he did follow him to wherever he was going.

“We don’t have much time, Tim. Dana will come back soon. She’s out with her own friends and we have… like… 15 minutes.”

The two walked outside and headed towards the girls’ house, actually only a few blocks away from Tim’s. Tim himself reluctantly followed his bro into this, knowing that, at best, it may turn into a funny mishap to tell to their other pals while being drunk and laugh about it.

“I’ll just pretend your words make any sense, like I usually do…” Tim chuckled, sarcastically, but still following his friend.

“I think she’s hiding something.” Dave explained, walking at a fast pace, Tim right behind him. “She’s been strangely elusive lately and I want to check her room for clues.”

Tim just chuckled in response. “Dave, you do realize that this is not a 90s sit-com, right? Her room? Really? What are you hoping to find out, exactly, anyway? That she’s having some kind of affair behind your back?” he asked, trying to reason with him.

“An affair? You think I’m that kind of guy?” Dave answered, looking surprisingly offended by Tim’s question. “I just want to make sure she’s fine. She seemed worried about something and she’s like this organized haf-woman/half-machine hybrid who keeps sticky notes in her room to keep an eye on her busy life.”

“Oh…” Tim replied, rather sarcastically. “Now that makes a lot of sense.”

“Leave your sassiness for later, dork. Can we take your car?” Dave asked.

“Why? We’re already right in front of her house…”

Dave realized that he was so worried that they did, in fact, walked for a couple of blocks and found themselves stepping in Dana’s backyard without even noticing. He just laughed a bit about it.

“Sorry. Love makes me blind.” he joked, knowing that it was a rather silly thing to say anyway.

“Not the words I would have used, but ok.” Tim answered.

“Come on, let’s get inside.” his bro said, with a smirk.

“Alright… but please, let’s keep a low profile and no awkwa-”

But as they approached to the girl’s house, Dave awkwardly started muttering some kind of theme song that was oddly reminiscent of the Mission Impossibile’s most iconic soundtrack. This guy has a girlfriend, everyone.

“So much for keeping a low profile, Ethan Hunt…” Tim joked.

Dana’s room, following the usual “average american house tropes” that the writer of this story grew up with in the 90s, was on the second floor. Luckily, the house was empty, so both Tim and Dave could easily climb it without fearing of someone noticing their totally legal actions.

“Look at Tim, such a rebel! Such a fast climber!” Dave whispered, noticing how good Tim was at climbing the girl’s house.

“Thanks. I learned it when I visited your mom.” he joked.

“I thought you’d prefer my dad, you know.” Dave played along, with a rather noticeable reference to Tim’s homosexuality.

“Just… just let’s get done with this.”

After some awkward climbing, the two found themselves in front of a window leading to Dana’s room. The duo was sitting on a small portion of slanted roof, wondering how to get inside.

“Alright. I could just punch through the window and open it. But you know I don’t like violence against windows.” Dave said, somewhat joking, but really trying to come up with a way to get through this final obstacle.

“Never mind, it’s open.” Tim said, as his hand passed right through the window. “Or, you know, I got ghost powers all of the sudden, but I doubt it.”

“You’re so funny I forgot to laugh.” Dave commented, as he got inside his girlfriend’s room, making sure no one was there, immediately followed by his sassy friend.

The room was fairly big and messy, books and magazines scattered all around the floor and the bed. Dana was a busy woman: she got a degree in economics but, given the tough times, she had troubles finding a decent job lately. Dave actually suspected that this was the reason she was being nervous about, well, everything, understandably.

“Why don’t you just ask her instead of acting like the perfect boyfriend material that you are?” Tim stated, in his usual snarky tone, noticing Dave basically rummaging through Dana’s more personal stuff.

“Just… let me do my thing ok?” he was serious again, trying to find something that could be clue, deep down knowing that all of that was quite non-sense and even ridiculous, but his stubbornness was showing. “Wait…”

Something drew his attention. A red (therefore important, according to Dana’s code) sticky note on the nightstand. Something was written on it.

“Oh… I guess I was right…” Dave whispered, eyes glued on the note.

“Something about her job?”

But Tim didn’t get an answer, as they heard someone coming from downstairs. They probably were so focused on their mission that didn’t even notice how someone got inside the house minutes after them. They went silent and tried to listen to the person’s footsteps.

“Yeah. I’ll keep you posted.”

They heard a muffled female voice getting closer, probably talking on her phone. A voice that was very familiar.

“Fuck! It’s Dana!” Dave whispered.

The two looked around, looking for a quick solution or a place to hide, blatantly ignoring the window they used to get inside in the first place.

“The closet!” Dave said.

Without even questioning whether this was a good idea or not, the duo sneaked inside Dana’s closet and closed themselves inside just as the girl came into her room, still talking on the phone about something.

Tim and Dave managed to mess things up however, as they ended up in a very small section of that apparently big, spacious closet, so they had to arrange themselves in a weird position. Dave was standing up, towering over Tim, who found himself sitting on the floor instead, right behind his friend… with his face perfectly aligned with his loose jeans butt. As his eyes got adjusted to the dark, Tim started to distinguish the seams and texture’s on Dave’s jeans ass, and the tiny red Levi tag on the right back pocket. He couldn’t help but take a look, which he felt really unnecessary, given the context.

“So… this is where you lived for most of your life…” Dave joked, looking around, as if the closet was some kind of fancy mansion.

“Haha! Another gay joke! Great timing, Dave!” Tim muttered instead. The last thing they had to do was talk.

The two waited for a couple of minutes, hoping that Dana would just leave again or even just go downstairs, so they’d have enough time to get out of there in the hopes that Dave didn’t leave any clue of his presence.

“As long a we remain silent…” Tim whispered. “We have nothing to worry about.”

Only moments after saying that, he felt a very familiar sound greeting his face. It was a long, rumbling sound coming from Dave’s denim ass. It was one of his usual, well-known loud farts, a fart that he was desperately trying to keep as silent as possible. Luckily, Dana was too busy with her phone to even notice the weird noise coming from inside of her closet.

“Dave! What the fuck?!” Tim hissed.

The gassy friend tried not to laugh, realizing how idiotic the whole situation was. “I’m sorry dude.” he murmured. “You know what happens when I’m nervous!”

The smell was unbearable already. Being in a such small space didn’t certainly help. Those were probably some of the smelliest farts Dave ever managed to rip in Tim’s face, although this time was, against all odds, more like an accident.

“Tim…” Dave whispered, carefully placing his butt closer to his friend’s face.

Another fart erupted, sounding dangerously louder than the previous one. The rough surface of Dave’s denim gently caressed Tim’s nose. The blast of gas then turned into something much more subtle, but still otherwise bubbly. Tim felt his nose burn, as really he had no choice but to breath all of that in.

“Dave I swear. If you don’t stop, Dana’s gonna–”

But another “slow-paced” rumbly fart cut him off. Dave was seriously trying to contain his well-known farting abilities. Tim, instead, was trying to remain calm, feeling like the Universe was somehow messing with him. That was an insane situation: he certainly wasn’t new to Dave’s farts, but in that context, it felt almost like one of his weird dreams about his fart fetish.

“Tim I’m sorry, at least I know you don’t mind… I hope”

Funnily enough, despite the slightly amused tone in his whispering voice, Dave sounded genuinely sorry. Yet he was right: Tim was insanely enjoying it, but knowing that Dana was out there made the whole thing almost surreal. And, once again, as much as Dave always proved so chill about this stuff, he couldn’t help but feel somehow awkward about having his friend face-farting him so non-chalantly.

And yet another “ninja” fart was ripped all over his face. Being nervous really turned Dave’s stomach into a messy cloud of gas, and Tim’s nose was there to vacuum it all up, completely defenseless, standing before the sheer power of the gassy friend’s powerful denim-covered anus.

Even though the situation was absurd, Dave couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. After all, the smell hit him too, and it was getting insane even for the farter himself, whose gas just didn’t stop building up.

“Sorry bro… I have to do this.” he whispered.

Tim felt Dave’s hands gently grabbing the back of his head, holding it still, as he pulled him in the clutches of his denim butt. The warm fabric of the jeans was soaking in that unbearable smell. The sniffer then felt the weight of his gassy friend almost crushing his skull. Despite being dark, Tim realized that Dave was basically sitting on him, using his head as some kind of human stool.

The fart was directly ripped in Tim’s mouth at that point, that rumbly sound once again renewing the already destructive stench. It was supposed to be loud, so loud, that Dave had to basically use his friend’s face to deadpan its impressive thunderous noise. The gassy bro was trying to rip it in the form of a long series, hoping that Dana would fail to hear (or even recognize) his well-known gross, but rather impressive talent.

Tim heard his friend’s sighs of relief after each, rumbling fart, but Dave was also trying not to burst into a laughter that could blow their cover. Fart fetish or not, he couldn’t help but to find it more hilarious than gross.

As much as the lack of space in that closet wouldn’t really allow it, Dave even lifted his right leg a bit, while still “sitting” on his stool-friend, as a way to facilitate the impressive amount of gas gushing out from his anus. It’s not like he had to worry about Tim passing out or finding it too gross, anyway.

That fart itself was lasting longer than both of them anticipated. They lost count of how much time passed, probably a full minute. Tim’s face was warm and sweaty now, still trapped in the clutches of his gassy bro’s denim butt, directly living in person that thin line between Fart Heaven and Fart Hell.

A final sigh of relief, followed by a louder toot and a chuckle. “Sorry, bud.” Dave muttered, hoping that his plan worked.

Indeed, Dana didn’t hear a thing. She hung up and left the room, her footsteps slowly turning into a far, muffled sound, until silence announced that the duo was now free to get the heck out of there, especially considering how they were almost both choking on farts.

Tim forgot what fresh, non-fart air felt like in his nostrils and so took a deep, refreshing breath the moment he stepped out of that gas closet. Ironically, Dave did the same, maybe even wondering how would Tim even endure something as overwhelming as his farts, but he didn’t really mind anyway. Despite everything, that was oddly hilarious, as the two stared at each other and then bursted into a laughter.

“Now let’s get out of here…” the farter suggested.

But before the two could even walk towards the window, Dana showed up again in her own room. She didn’t even startle.

“What are you two doing here?” she asked, sounding more like an inquisitive mom than an angry girlfriend. She was fairly mature, after all. “I don’t know what you Dumb and Dumber are up to, but I swear if you–”

“I heard the news, Dana. We were just outside your window…” Dave explained, slightly tweaking the truth. “We wanted to play a stupid scary prank but then I heard it, while you were on the phone you know…”

Dana shook her head and laughed a bit. She hugged her boyfriend and kissed him.

“Yes! I got the job!” she giggled. “Sorry I’ve been so cold lately. The job interview made me so nervous…”

“It’s fine, Dana. You’ve always been stone-cold anyway!” Dave joked, earning a playful slap on his chest by his girlfriend.

“Yes, that’s a very import–wait what’s that smell?” the girl asked, sniffling loudly the air around him.

Tim’s heart almost stopped while Dave did his best to not just laugh like an immature prankster. His hair, clothes, skin, were completely “soaked” in his gassy bro’s gas, so naturally he’d himself smell like flatulence.

“Never mind. It must be you, Dave. He farts like crazy when he’s nervous, Tim, I swear.” she said, disgusted but slightly amused as well.

“Ow… it’s part of my charm, babe.” Dave replied, using what he would have considered an irresistible flirty tone of voice, which was super awkward instead.

“And yeah. Tim’s very aware of my skills, right?” he joked, winking at him, like the big teasing bastard he’s always been since he found out about his fart kink.

Tim just shrugged, faking a disgusted look, his heart racing fast, knowing that all he had to do after that was take the biggest shower in the hope that such unbearable stench didn’t fuse with the atoms in his body.

“Well, it’s gonna be a wild ride!” Dana exulted, happy about her new job offer.

“How about a round of beers to celebrate?” Tim suggested. “It’s on me, no worries.”

“Great idea, but I’m paying. I got the job, you dumb-dumbs get to drink!” Dana replied. She was in a very good mood.

“It’s fine, Dana! It’s the least we can do after-“ but Dave interrupted him.

“Come on Tim, stop living in outdated gender roles and let the pretty girl buy you a drink.” he said, faking a serious tone.

The girlfriend simply rolled her eyes and left the room “Just… meet me downstairs when you’re done saving the world, ok?”

As Dana was nowhere in sight, Dave simply turned to Tim and let another huge, long one rip.

“Shhh. Just tying up some loose ends here.” he said, shushing the gay friend, blasting what was left of his gas out.

“Are you finish-“ “Not yet” he simply said, as if he was making sure no particle of gas was left behind.

With one high pitched final note that was met with some immature laughter, Dave sighed in relief.

“With that said” he chuckled “You might want to take a shower.”

Tim simply nodded with an unamused expression.

“Oh, and you might want to leave the other closet you’ve been hiding.”

That was out of nowhere.

“No pressure bro, just know that we’re all always more than happy to have a beer with you.”

“Thanks Da-“

“Despite your bigoted views on gender roles of course.”

“I’m going to punch you now.”

The duo then headed downstairs and no one got punched luckily.

Tim thought about his friend’s words and how it was probably time to leave that metaphorical stuffy closet soon or later, not that he felt forced or anything.

Dana’s closet, however, that’s probably the only one he enjoyed being trapped into…

End of Episode 9

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years

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Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 4

So How’d It Go? Read on AO3 here

Angst warning!! This is an important chapter but damn was it hard to write! Tagging @today-in-fic . Enjoy and please let me know your thoughts!

“Dana Scully speaking”

“So how’d it go?”

“You know hello would have been nice Missy”

“Tell me! You can’t just leave the house on Thursday with that dress in your suitcase and expect me to not want details?”

“Did you go through my luggage?”

“I was looking for a top. But who was the guy? Was it David from work? Or Mark from that bar that one time?”

“And why should I tell you?”

“Dana this is the first time you’ve gone out in a year-”

“10 months.”

“Whatever. I just want to know who the lucky guy is.”

“His name is Mulder…”

“Mulder?”

“It’s his last name. He doesn’t like his first.”

“Mysterious. I like it. Go on.”

“He’s living in my old apartment”

“Wow Danes that seriously some rom com shit”

“I know, I know. He’s cute. Tall, far too confident, obviously brilliant…”

“Sounds like you’re already in love”

“But I don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“What, why? It was only the first date what could he have possibly done wrong”

“He works at the FBI. On unexplained cases of the supernatural variety. X files he called them.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t know if I can see him again.”

“Does he know?”

“Did I tell him on our first and probably only date that if he looks hard enough he likely has a file in his office with my name in it? No, he doesn’t know.”

“Do you think he’s doing an undercover investigation on you?”

“Gee thanks Mis, because the only reason a guy would be interested in me would be because he’s on a secret case”

“I’m not saying that! But don’t you think it’s a little weird that the minute you moved out of your old apartment an FBI agent investigating the paranormal moves in to take your place?”

“I don’t know Missy. I don’t know, it's just too much to think about. I’m going to go to bed now.”

“Ok. You’re coming home on Monday right?”

“Yea. I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight Danes.”

“Night Missy.”

It was her luck that something like this would happen. Hadn’t she already been through enough? She left Stanford with a medical degree and all the freedom in the world, moved to her favorite city, and started saving lives. She made the world a better place, worked her ass off day in and day out to help children, saving God’s little angels, and how does He repay her? By ripping her life into pieces and throwing them into the trash, and then lighting the trash can on fire. So she moves back home, stays with her family. She recovers, she fights to get the life she had back, and she finally develops some sense of normalcy, even getting confident enough to go back out with a guy. And he’s a fucking alien investigator at the FBI. Like she hadn’t dealt with enough G-men already. Now this man who had somehow captivated her mind for the last month was just another threat. And she really was so naive as to believe the world would throw a perfectly good man in her lap.

She certainly hadn’t been looking. When he had first called her all she wanted was for him to leave her alone. She didn’t trust men anymore, and certainly didn’t feel like putting in the effort to court one. But talking to him in her apartment made her feel those butterflies she hadn’t felt in a long time. He just had this air around him, an aura that projected both confidence and a pure wild energy, a mix that intoxicated her every time she drew near him. He grabbed her wrist and she hadn’t worn a bracelet for the next week. She could still feel the phantom grip of his fingers and the electricity that flowed through them, like a newly connected circuit powering up for the first time. He hadn’t left her head since. She tried to call him as soon as she got home the next day, but she had been so caught up with his floppy hair and lopsided smile that she had completely forgotten to save his number from her mother’s phone to hers. So she placed faith in the postal system and hoped he would be charmed by her antics. And it worked. She was going out on a date with a man who made her head spin, one who tried to pretend that he was unphased by probably the tightest dress she owned even though he didn’t close his mouth for a full minute when he first saw her.

The date was perfect until they had talked about jobs. And then he dropped the bomb and she tried to brush off the feeling in the pit of her stomach by making stupid jokes and he laughed but she couldn’t help but dwell.

“UFO’s, cryptids, anything from crop circles to spontaneous human combustion. If the FBI can’t solve it, they toss it in my pile”

Did he know? He couldn’t have. What kind of psychopath brings up the fact that he studies alien abductions to someone like her. And if he really was undercover he wouldn’t want her to know what his real job was would he? He would have lied.

Unless he was toying with her.

Unless this was another experiment on her, another way to keep tabs on her, make sure she didn’t talk, make sure she was doing her very best to forget everything that happened to her.

She got up from the bed abruptly and shut the blinds on the windows. They clacked together and then the room fell into deep silence again.

He didn’t talk about work for the whole rest of the dinner. He talked about baseball, about how he goes for runs in the park she used to walk through after a long day shift. He said “Behold, a man” when the waiter brought out her garlic and herb chicken. Mulder wouldn’t do that to her. Mulder was just a man with a job whose only interest in her life was whether she was free next Friday to go out again. He paid for the cab back to her hotel and opened the door for her to get in. He was a gentleman.

He’s trying to get her to trust him.

And suddenly everything clicked into place and the air left her lungs. She found herself stumbling to the bed, she knocked over the lamp but it was in her way and she just needed to be in bed. Her ears were ringing, she couldn’t hear, everything was going in and out of black.

He’s watching you. He’s with them. He’s trying to silence you. He’s going to follow you, gain your trust and then he’s going to kill you. He knows where you live, he can track you down, they’ve tried to take her before and he will try again. He’s with them, he’s with them, he’s going to kill you, they’re going to kill you.

Everything’s bright and she’s back in that place with needles and tubes in and out of her, and she knows she’s in a hotel in DC but as many times as she tries to wrap the blankets around her and tuck her feet under her she cannot become small enough to escape them. She feels tears hot down the sides of her cheeks and the sounds of drills in her ears and there's no escape. She hears pounding and wailing and hands grip her wrists and they burn, they burn, so she screams. She won’t let them take her again, she won’t.

“Scully, Scully it's me”

She fights it, and it’s him, it’s Mulder and he’s trying to take her, like she thought.

“Let go of me!” She shrieks, flailing about but she’s trapped, he’s got her trapped, in bed sheets tied around her wrists and feet. “Don’t take me!”

He lets go but she’s still trapped, still fighting.

“Scully no one’s going to take you.”

“Yes! Yes they’re going to take me! You’re going to take me!” He touches her hand and it doesn't burn but it makes a lump in her throat and her fist turns flat. He pulls a sheet off of her and she feels exposed.

“Scully look at me.”

She does. She looks through tears at a blurred man in her hotel room. He doesn’t look like a threat. He looks sad.

“How did you get in here.” He steps to the edge of the bed and she pushes herself back towards the headboard, away. He raises both hands and walks to the other side of the bed where he sits.

“You left your wallet in the taxi. He called me because I paid and I picked it up and brought it here. I made it to your room and I wasn’t going to come in but I heard the lamp crash. So I used the spare key in the wallet and let myself in.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, holding up the wallet as evidence. She hadn’t even realized it was gone.She unlocked the door with the key she kept in her purse. She started to take in her surroundings, the lamp crashed to the floor, the bedsheets thrown from the bed. She looked up at him and saw nothing but concern over his face.

Every emotion, shame, embarrassment, anger, sadness, all of it hit her at once and she sobbed.

He reached over to touch her but she shouted “No!”, like a wounded dog. Her voice didn’t sound real. “Please don’t touch me”.

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

He watched as tears racked her body, never moving from his spot on the bed. She cried in a ball, hands covering her face, arms and knees tucked to her sides, protecting her from nothing. Then, she laid down, and cried until the tears had to be blinked down the sides of her face while she stared at the ceiling. She felt him get off the bed, and she bolted up, dizzying herself, but he nodded and only walked over to the minifridge to pull out a bottle of water. She sat up and he resumed his position at the end of the bed.

“Drink some water. Can you breathe again?”

She hated the way he talked to her, like she was a child. But he was right. She accepted the bottle and drank half, gulping down cold water as a welcomed change to the hot sheets.

“Yes. I’m sorry you had to see that. You can go now.”

“Don’t be sorry. I know panic attacks can be bad.”

“I’m ok now. You can go.” The crack in her voice made both of them wince. A different type of silence filled the room.

“You know I am a psychologist, but it doesn’t take an Oxford degree to diagnose PTSD.”

“I said I’m fine. You can go now Mulder.”

“What happened Dana.”

She sat and stared at him, sitting on her bed, asking her to spill her darkest secrets to him. Everything about telling him felt wrong but this is the first time anyone has offered to listen.

“About a year ago, a man broke into my apartment and abducted me. He drugged me and put me in the back of his truck and drove me to a cornfield in Virginia. I remember waking up and seeing the stars and trying to run but I was tied down. And then a bright light came and I-” She choked back another sob, but he shifted closer to her, eyes wide, and nodded for her to continue. “I don’t remember what happened. But my mother found me on her doorstep a month later in a hospital gown and…” her voice cut out. He again moved closer and when she didn’t pull back he slowly raised his hand and put it on her knee. He looked at her as if to ask “is this ok” and she nodded in response.

“I don’t remember anything except seeing my mother’s face again for the first time. She looked so… so terrified of me. Like I had grown another head or something. And then I looked down, and I was holding a baby”. She felt another tear run down her cheek.

“I was holding a baby and I didn’t know whose it was and I almost dropped it. Mom took it from me and my sister came and helped me inside, the whole time they were asking me where I’d been but I didn’t know. I didn’t remember anything. All of these people showed up at our house and asked me over and over again “where were you?” “what happened” and I just kept answering them I don’t know, I don’t know. They said I went on a bender. That I ran away from work and responsibilities, probably with some friends. They said I was pregnant and didn’t know it, and they tried to take the baby for testing but my mother wouldn’t let them. She didn’t believe them, she knew I wouldn’t do that. I don’t remember much of what happened next, but we packed up everything and moved out of my apartment… your apartment. They didn’t even open an investigation on the man that took me.”

“I can.” She had been staring at the lamp on the ground, she hadn’t noticed him staring at her with such intensity it made her shiver.

“You don’t get it. They didn’t open a case on me because there wasn’t enough evidence-”

“They didn’t open a case on you because you were abducted. The FBI has been trying to suppress alien abductions for years and you are just another victim. I could open a case on you, start an investigation, really stick it to them-”

“I am not a case that needs to be solved, Mulder.”

“But I can help you Scully. Do you remember anything from that night, anything at all?”

“Mulder!”

“I don’t understand, why would you not want to know what happened?”

“Because Mulder, because sometimes the weight of what happened is too much to bear. Because while you try to hunt down monsters they terrorize me in my sleep. Because there’s a baby in my house and I don’t know where it came from.” She realized she was yelling at him but she didn’t care. “Because frankly it’s none of your goddamn business what happened to me if I don’t want it to be. The men who you work for threatened to kill me and my family if I tried to find out what happened to me and for all I know you’re one of them.” Her voice was shrill and sharp like broken glass and it cut just where it needed to.

“I’m sorry.”

She met his eyes again and they were wide and sad.

“I want to help you Scully. I’ll do…” he took a breath, “anything. I’ll do anything to help you.”

“I need you to leave.”

“Ok.”

He got up and she remained on the bed, drained.

“Will I see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ok. Goodbye Scully.”

“Goodbye Mulder.”

#the x files #txf fanfic #msr #msr fanfiction #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #angst #txf au #msr au #sam writes #plz let me know if you like this!#also my appologies again for the angst

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ladyfiresfanfiction · 3 years

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Moth to a Flame - Supernatural Fan Fic - John Winchester and Castiel x OCs

The night was suppose to be a strict girls night. Willow Skye and her best friend, Dana Baker, were going to have a relaxing night in their brand new place in Kansas. It had been torn down and rebuilt two years ago, and it was the lowest priced house within ten miles of their hometown of Lawrence.

Willow didn't know what, but something drew her to the house. It was like a moth to a flame, she didn't understand why, but for the price of the place, she wasn't going to ask questions. Dana moved in with her after their junior year of college started. They were scraping money together to survive alone, so they decided moving in together was going to be a wonderful idea. No more struggling, and they could live together. That was one thing on each other's bucket list, and now they could proudly scratch it off. But Dana didn't like the house. She said it felt ominous. Something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Willow, being the ever stubborn optimist, said her friend was being silly. The house was a steal and it was beautiful. But deep down, Willow had the same feelings, but she decided to bury them deep in the back of her mind and enjoy her own home. It was a dreary Friday in October, exam week had finally ended and both girls' heads were spinning. They weren't in the mood to hit up Lawrence's night life. Instead, they were going to grab a couple pizzas, two six packs of smirnoff ice apple, and watch horror movies and play video games. It was the perfect night. They got all the classics, like the nightmare on elm street series, the exorcist, and new favorites like Paranormal Activity. They ordered two large cheese pizzas, and stocked their booze in the fridge. As it hit ten o'clock, they went through their first movie. Terrified, Dana began to beat Willow with a pillow and accuse her of turning out the lights, although she was sitting no more than two feet from her on their leather couch. "Damn it, Dana, quit!" Willow yelped. "You fucking did something to the lights, Pixie!" Dana shrieked. "Oh for the love of God, one bad haircut and I'm stuck with that horrible nickname forever." Willow growled. "Ha! You changed the subject!" Dana said, taking a swig of her smirnoff. "Yeah I did, dumbass, because I'm sitting right here and haven't moved in two and a half hours. Now tell me, how did I fuck with the lights?" "I.. Well.. Oh fuck you." she said with a mouthful of pizza. There was a loud bang from the upstairs bedroom, Willow's bedroom. Willow and Dana looked at each other, growing very pale. Outside the storm was raging and lightening kept cracking every ten seconds. Thunder boomed and made the windows rattle, and rain pounded the window pane with rage. The power went out after the second bang from the upstairs. Both girls were terrified now. "W-what the fuck?" Dana stammered. "I.. I don't know." Willow whispered. "I'm fucking scared, dude." she said, wrapping her hands around her friends arm so tight Willow was losing circulation. "I'm no good dead, Dana. Let go of my arm." she said. They started for the stairs, holding a lighter and trying to keep their dinner down. Dana glanced outside and saw a beautiful Impala on the side of the road. She thought it looked familiar. She saw the car door open and four men get out. Before she could tell Willow, Willow had raced up the stairs on the third bang. The front door was kicked down and Dana screamed her head off. "Hey, hey! It's us!" A man with deep hazel eyes said. "DEAN!? I swear to fuck I will kill you if you EVER-" "No time for that sweetheart, where's your friend?" he asked. "Upstairs." she said, nervously. "I'll go with dad, you and Cas stay with, uh, what's your name?" a tall man with shaggy brown hair asked. "Dana. I only told you a dozen times when you interrogated me this afternoon." she snapped. The man, who she assumed was Cas, stared at her with big blue eyes and studied her. If this wasn't one of the scariest nights of her life, she would have gone over there and flirted with him. Instead, she just smiled and then peered upstairs. It was too quiet. Dean went into the kitchen, and Cas stood a few feet from Dana. She didn't know if she should trust these men, but she had no choice since they broke in to her house. "Cas?" she asked. "Yes. Dana?" he replied. "Yep, that's me." she smiled, stepping closer to him. "So your friend knows about the demon?" he asked. "DEMON!? WHAT!? A DEMON. A FUCKING DEMON IN MY HOUSE?" Dana shrieked. "You didn't-" "A FUCKING DEMON? Like, like those nasty pointy eared motherfuckers who like to.. to.. To fucking pounce on unsuspecting girls like Willow and I?" Dana rambled in a panic. "Good going, Cas. This is why I tell you to keep your mouth shut." Dean said, walking into the living room again. Dean took the mumbling Dana into the kitchen to explain. The house that was on the grounds before this was his family's. He didn't go into too much detail, only enough to make Dana try to flee from the house in a pair of daisy duke shorts and a system of a down tank top. Cas ran after her and brought her back inside, although she scratched his face to Hell. "Look, you're going to be alright. Dean and his brother and father are the best at getting rid of these things. Plus, well, I'm an angel. So, I'm pretty helpful at kicking Demon ass." Cas grinned at her. "Angel? Look buddy you may look like a very delicious.. heavenly.. God given gift to women but you are NOT an ANGEL." She barked. "God given gift to women? Seriously?" Dean looked at her. The next thing they heard was Willow's high pitched scream and her flying down the stairs. She too tried to escape, but Dean's father grabbed her by the waist and took her to the couch. She slapped him across the face while swearing at him, trying to fight him off and escape, not only from him, but the damned house, too. He had to pin her down with his own body and he began to whisper in her ear. She finally stopped struggling, and she looked up at him with fear eminating from her aqua-golden eyes. He helped her to her feet and brought her over to where Dana, Dean, and Cas stood. "Where's Sam?" Dean asked. "He's putting salt in all the rooms upstairs. Stay with the girls, I'm going to help him. "No! I'm coming with you." Willow piped up, grabbing his hand. He looked from her hand in his, to her eyes. He shook his head and got her to let him go before trotting upstairs. Dana still stared at Cas in awe. If he really was an angel, then she had to rethink everything. She had been raised as a catholic, but when she hit her teens, she considered herself an atheist. She never had reason to believe in God or Angels, or even the Devil and Demons. She scoffed at anyones mere thought of them existing. But now, she wasn't so sure. "I'm going to help, um, what's his name." Willow said. "His name is John, and no you're not." Dean said. "Oh, I would just love for you to try and stop me." Willow snapped. "Is that a dare, or a double dare sweet heart?" he asked, taking a step closer to her. "You come near me and you'll be missing your manhood, pal." "I'd listen to her, Dean. She's kind of.. um, well.. a bitch." "Thanks, Dana." Willow murmured. The lights came on, blindingly white. It made Willow cover her eyes and trip backwards, falling on her ass. The light went back to it's natural wattage and Dana helped her friend to her feet. Willow dragged her to the isolated edge of the livingroom, right near the couch and started to whisper fiercely. "Who are these guys? Demons? Seriously?" Willow asked. "I know, dude. They showed up after my World Religions class, ironically enough. At first they said they were with the health department, but then the blue eyed one slipped and said the house had something evil. I didn't give it a second thought. But then when all the weird shit started happening, I saw their car and well, you know the rest." she explained. "Dude, what if this is because we can see shit? I mean, plus my messing with Witchcraft when I was fourteen.." Willow replied. "Hey, Dean said whatever this thing is, was here way before us. It's always been here, so quit thinking this is your fault." Dana said, giving Willow a hug. They joined the guys at the foot of the stairs. It was quiet, and the lights were off. The shaggy haired guy, named Sam, came down and he had a cut on his cheek. Dean and Sam went to their car to load up on what they called "an arsenal of weapons against our little house guest", and Cas stood by Dana. Willow smirked as she saw her friend grow a light pink and then tried going upstairs. "No. No fucking way, Pixie." Dana gasped, and grabbed her friends arm. "Number one, call me Pixie when John is around and you don't have to worry about the demons getting you, because I will first. Number two, I'm a grown ass woman and I paid for this house, I'm going." "I didn't know you were a fairy." Cas said, rather child like. "Excuse me? I'm not a Fairy you twat!" "Willow, he's an Angel! He doesn't know any better!" Dana snapped. "Whatever, see you ladies in a bit, I'm going to find John." Willow said, and ran upstairs. Cas and Dana sat on the couch, fidgeting. Cas looked at Dana and couldn't believe how beautiful she was. It had been centuries since he had ever had feelings for a woman, or even noticed one for that matter, but Dana was different. Her eyes showed how good her soul was, her voice was so soft and promising, and her lips looked like perfectly shaped rose petals. As she shook in horror at the flickering lights, something came over him. He put his arms around her protectively, bringing her shaking frame close to his. He whispered soothingly in her ear, that no matter what happened, she would be safe. Dana sat there, looking at him. His eyes were full of emotions. Unfortunately, they were ones she couldn't quite decipher. If she wasn't so incredibly frightened, and hopelessly attracted to him, she could probably figure it out. But between the howling wind, the darkened house, and the intense fear of being killed and ending up in Hell, she had her mind on other things. But, that didn't stop her from wanting to kiss him. His lips were plump, and looked so warm and inviting. She wasn't in to one night stands, but if this was any other Friday night, and he was some random guy, she would have jumped his bones as soon as their eyes met. Dean and Sam were back inside, and going through everything they collected. Dean saw that Cas and Dana were snuggled on the couch, but saw no sign of Willow. He groaned and walked over. "I hate to intrude on your beautiful moment, guys, but where the hell is that pain in the ass best friend of yours, Dana?" "She went to find John." "Damn it! That girl better hope she found my dad, and not that demon." Sam added. "Willow's smart, she can take care of herself." Dana said. Willow was walking slowly and quietly in the hallway, looking for him. He was so gorgeous, she was surprised he had two full grown sons. He seemed so mysterious, though. She couldn't tell if that was what really attracted her to him, or the fact that his wet, black v-neck clung to his body, which showed how good of shape he was in. Or maybe it was his messy brown hair, or those piercing eyes. She tried to shake the lustful thoughts from her head, and when she did, she tripped. "Damn it, fuck that hurt." she mumbled to herself. She went into her room, but didn't find John. All she could see were these weird images on the ground, and the pristine white salt in the window sills, and in front of her closet door. She moved in, and the door slammed shut. She stifled a cry and looked around the room, there was no one. She heard sounds coming from the closet and her heart began to slam in her chest. As she began to back away, she bumped into someone and screamed. She was spun around and came face to face with John. "Didn't I tell you to stay downstairs?" he demanded. "Yeah well, I'm not obedient." she smiled. "You're gonna get yourself killed, Willow." he whispered. "Look, I'm not a damn damsel in distress, I can take care of myself." she said, growing irritated. "You have no idea how dangerous these damn things are. I've hunted them for the last twenty some years, sweetie. Trust me when I say it's safer downstairs." "If you're staying, then I am, too." she said, not budging from in front of him. "Fine, your choice. But stay close." he replied, frustrated. She stuck right beside him, and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He didn't know why, but he wanted her as close to him as possible. He didn't want anything to happen to her. His sole mission in life was to save people. This girl may have been getting on his last nerve, but he liked her bravery, her determination, and she was pretty on top of it. He wondered why she wanted to be up there with him, but he didn't ask. It was nice to have a woman with him, standing by his side through this. Willow felt safe with John's arm around her. She wanted to hold on to his waist and convince him to run away with her, from this place, far away, and hole up in some motel for the night. But she could tell he wouldn't go for it. She squished herself against his side as much as possible. The windows started to rattle, and Willow made her way to the bedroom door. It wouldn't open. She kept her cool, although inside she was panicing. Dean was on the other side, trying to kick it down, but nothing would work. John stood in front of Willow, trying to figure out what his next move would be. Out of nowhere, she felt herself go flying against a wall, pinned against it. She was deathly afraid, she couldn't even speak. John tried to grab her, but he was thrown against the opposite side of the wall. Dean finally managed to kick the door open, and Sam was right behind, with a large leather book. "Now's not story time, guys!" Willow shrieked. "Relax!" Sam snapped. The thing appeared, right next to John. Willow was struggling to free herself so she could get to him, which caught it's attention. It's pitch black eyes stared at her, and it's lips turned into a cold smirk. Sam's book went into flames and he went flying backwards and the door slammed shut behind him. Dean was knocked into the wall and went unconscious. John was swearing at the thing, trying to get it's attention, to bring it to him instead of Willow. But Willow didn't even shake, or shut her eyes. She stared at it with hate. She struggled to free herself, but had no such luck. "My, how you've grown." It hissed, like a snake. "Fuck off." she choked. She felt a white hot pain on her abdomen, and screamed. The thing flipped her shirt up to show blood dripping down her body. She stared at it, and fear started to sink in. It ran it's tongue over her cheek, and then whispered that she was going to Hell, with it, and there was no stopping it. She stared it down, showing that she wasn't weak, or scared. It slapped her, and then she felt more pain in her chest, and her fore arms. She was turning in to a bloody mess. "Let her go!" John demanded. "What's wrong, Johnny? A little upset that this will be the 2nd woman you've lost?" it smiled evily. "Take me. Let her go." he said. "Nah, this is too much fun watching you watch her slowly die." it said, and turned to Willow again. The door blew off the hinges, and Cas stood in the doorway, Dana was behind him. Cas raised his palm and now the demon was on the ground, on its knees, before Cas. He began to speak in a foreign tongue, and the thing started to scream. It's head moved side to side at the speed of light, and with one loud bellowing symbol, the demon's black spirit was expelled from the decaying body. John and Willow fell to the ground, and Sam ran to call an ambulance. Dana kneeled beside her friend, who was slowly going unconscious. Willow came to in a hospital, it was dark out, and she figured it was the same night. She moved slightly to the left and saw John asleep in the uncomfortable chair beside her bed. She peered down and saw his hand holding hers. Dana and Cas had just walked in and saw her eyes were open. Dana went to say something when Cas motioned for her to stay quiet, so they didn't wake John. Dana walked over and whispered in Willow's ear. "He's been here ever since you were admitted, that was two days ago. Someone's getting hospital sex later on!" She chuckled before walking out with Cas. Willow giggled but winced quickly afterward. It hurt to move at all. She had never been in this much pain before. She wondered what happened, she was out for two days. She also wondered if he was okay. She gripped his hand, and smiled. He was sleeping peacefully beside her. Cas told Sam and Dean that Willow was awake and that they could head to their motel. He was going to drop Dana off at her motel and then come back to see how Willow and John were getting along. But Dana had other plans. They got to her motel and Cas walked her in. She smiled at him as they stood awkwardly in the doorway together. He knew something was up, but he couldn't exactly tell what. She looked up into his eyes and he felt like he was going to melt. Her eyes were a beautiful blue, but they had a violet hue to them. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. He tried to remind himself that this girl was just that; a young girl. He couldn't possibly get feelings for her. In his line of work, and location, it could never work. But still, what he was feeling inside wouldn't go away. "You saved my friend, and myself. I could never thank you enough." Dana whispered. "It's no problem. I would have done it for anyone." he replied, being modest. "It's really late, isn't it? Maybe you should crash here. Besides.. It does get lonely." she hinted, taking his hand in hers and bringing him to the bed. He sat down and she straddled his lap. He looked at her, unsure of where to put his hands. She grabbed them forcefully and held them against her perky breasts. His touch sent a shiver up her spine, and he started to feel tension in his pants. It was all new to him, but he was enjoying the sensation. He laid back and brought her down on top of him. She groaned and attacked his lips. He pressed his lips hungrily back against hers. She was forcing her tongue in to his mouth, and the texture of his tongue against hers was turning her on. She could already feel her panties getting soaked, and she felt his boner poking her through their jeans. She gasped when he flipped her on to her back, climbing on top of her. His blue eyes swam with lust and what appeared to be genuine, human emotion. He slipped her tank top over her head and began to kiss her chest, up to her collarbone and neck, and each kiss was deeper and rougher than the last. She squirmed under him, whining and unable to control her animalistic sounds. She ripped off his trenchcoat, and soon was able to slide off his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth, and felt good against her chilled body. His tongue swirled on her sweet spot, and soon his teeth nibbled, causing her to arch her back. Her legs unvoluntarily opened, giving him room to place his lower body between them. Their lips met with passion, and he gripped her sides. She kept arching into him, her hips bucked against his own. A devilish smile formed on the corners of his lips, and he began to playfully bite her bottom lip. For someone who had never done this before, Dana was dying from the pounding in her cunt. She already wanted him to just shove it in, over and over, and make her scream until no body part worked. He slowly stood up, looking down at her. One of his hands gripped at the button of her jeans, and he quickly undid it. He ripped her pants off her legs as she fumbled to undo his button and zipper. She couldn't even form a coherent sentence, and her lips began to trace down his body, from his chest to his stomach and back up. His pants flew off and across the room, and she pulled him back down. The head of his cock was making an appearance in the hole of his boxer shorts, and she placed her hand inside them, giving his dick a small squeeze. He grunted in her ear, which made her pump his dick in her hand. He yanked her hand out and pinned both of her wrists above her head. He kissed her again, with force. He grinded his lower body against hers, letting her feel every solid inch against her wet pussy. She was able to break free, but she steadied her urges to rip his boxers off and ride him like a bronco. Instead, she slowly slid them off, and he looked down at her. She suddenly felt her heart swell in her chest, and it was a feeling she knew all too well: Love. He gently pulled off her soaked thong and helped her up into the middle of the bed. Slowly opening her legs, he slid inside, and the sticky, hot mess made it easy for him to slide in deep. She cried out and dug her nails into his back, panting in his ear. Her legs were in the air, her back arched as far as it could, and their eyes were locked on each other. They smiled and kissed deeply, passionately. Their tongues locked and slid deep into each others mouths as he penetrated her deeply, roughly, and continually. She was already cumming and drenched his dick with a hot load of cum. He wasn't too far, behind. He began to pound her cunt mercilessly, grunting and groaning in her ear, then he would add little butterfly kisses to her earlobe and neck before sucking hard on the sweet spot of her neck. "Dana, you make me feel so many things, that are so foreign to me. But God does it feel wonderful." he panted gruffly in her ear. "Jesus fuck, Cas. More. Oh God. More, please!" she begged. He did as he was asked, shoving it all inside, pounding her sweet spot, making it hurt. She finally was reaching her final orgasm, her muscle wrapping around his cock and squeezing as she screamed his name. His eyes clenched shut and he bit his bottle lip as he let his own cum rush out of him and drench her insides, and slide down her shaking legs. He fell on top of her, his whole body quivering. She clung to him as he wrapped his own arms around her body. They gasped for air and held each other, realizing this was more than a fling, it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Willow woke up around eleven o'clock the following night. The doctors had given her pain medication since she was crying in her sleep. When she woke up, she awoke to John hovering above her. Her heart pitter pattered in her chest, and she let out a small, shy smile. He traced the back of his hand against her cheek, in which she leaned in to it, and he told her she could finally go home. "But I don't have a home." she said. "You can stay with me, for a few days, you know.. If you want." he said. "Really?" she asked. "Yeah, if you want." he smiled. "I'd love to, John." she replied. He helped her sit up, and as the nurse unhooked her from the heart machine and took the needle out of her arm, Dana came in with a huge smile on her face. She gave her friend a set of clothes and helped her into the bathroom to dress. "God this all hurts." she cried. "I know, but John will take care of you. Cas is gonna help me go apartment hunting, for us." she replied. "John's letting me stay with him for a few days." Willow smiled. "Awww!" Dana cooed. "Oh shut up. Um, Dana? Isn't this kinda.. much?" she asked, looking in the mirror. Willow was wearing a long sleeved, low cut fishnet tshirt with a black lacey push up bra underneath, a frilly black g-string and skin tight dark blue jeans, with her tights and knee high boots. Dana put on black eyeliner and mascara, to make Willow's eyes really pop. She combed her messy hair and when she was finished, you would have never have known Willow was attacked. She walked out and saw John talking to his sons, who apparently had a lead on some new monster two states away. John slowly turned and laid his eyes on a new Willow, and he turned from his sons and walked over to her. She heard Dean mutter 'get some, dad!' and Sam dragged his brother off to their Impala. Dana walked off to find Cas and said she would call Willow tomorrow to see how she was doing. John wrapped his arm around her shoulders gently and they walked off to his car. The entire way to his motel was silent, but she kept looking at him once in awhile. More than once she caught him staring and smiled when he looked away. They got inside his motel and he helped her to the bed. She laid down and looked at him as he put his guns on the nightstand beside the opposite bed. He sat down on it and looked at her before lying down.

"Aren't you going to lie with me?" she asked.

"I wasn't sure you wanted me to." he laughed.

"Well, I do, so come here." she giggled.

He slowly got up, and took his shirt off, tossing it on the ground behind him. She laid on her back and watched him get in bed. His body was so perfect; a nice looking chest, perfect abs, and his arms were strong, and when they locked around her, she felt like putty. She looked up at him, and his eyes changed; they were full of lust. She was so glad she wasn't the only one who wanted to have sex at that point. She broke away long enough to slide her shirt off, and he slid his fingertips slowly up and down her arm. She shivered, and he quickly brought her right up against his body. His arms were around her tight and she could feel his heart beating against hers. She melted against him, taking in his scent and closing her eyes. He rubbed her shoulder blades gently with his hands, still keeping her safe in his arms.

"You were brave back there, you barely made a sound or.. Anything." he whispered in her ear.

"Thanks.. I don't know what came over me, I just.. I.. I wanted to make sure you were okay." she said, peeking up to see his eyes.

"Why?" he asked.

"I don't know, John. I just did. At that moment, you were more imp-"She was cut off by his lips hitting hers.

His body carefully rolled on top of hers, making her squeak. Their lips never broke the kiss, but instead, deepened. His hands gripped her hips and his tongue slid easily in to her mouth. She was already shaking and could feel an angry pulse in her pussy. Their tongues locked in a war of dominance, and he was clearly winning. She tried to push him off, but he was too strong. He pinned her wrists down by her sides and broke the kiss, then began to bite her bottom lip, hard. He lips brushed against her jawline, down to her neck, the kisses were wet and hard, and the more she fought to free herself, the more he tortured her with his passionate kisses. She saw the muscles in John's arms flexing from holding her down, and she let out a whimper.He let her go and helped her sit up. He was on his knees, straddled over her lap so he could undo her bra, as he slowly let the straps slide off her shoulders, he looked down at her cleavage. She slid her hands down his abs and slowly back up, while putting butterfly kisses to his chest. He shut his eyes, groaning. His own hands slid down her breasts, down to her stomach and slowly back up. He cupped her tits in his hands, and as he sweetly kissed her, he began to squeeze her tits, making her gasp and groan. She began to quiver, and he had her lie down.She opened her legs, inviting him in and he placed his lower body right against hers, she gripped his shoulders, and her head was swimming. Her heart raced painfully in her chest, and he pulled away to look into her eyes. He smiled and kissed her cheek while letting his hands glide through her hair. She was quickly falling for him.

She was nibbling on his neck while gripping his strong, broad shoulders. He began to undo her pants and she hungrily attacked his lips. The kisses were quick and sloppy, but full of emotion and passion and... Need.

"Don't leave after this." she begged.

"I won't, I promise." he whispered assuringly between kisses to her chest.

"God, I need you." she moaned.

"I need you, too, baby." he groaned.

They pulled each others pants off, and she could see his boner in his boxer briefs. He jammed it against her several times, making her lose her mind. She whipped off her g-string while he took his boxers off, and climbed on top of her. His hands were propped up on either side of her, he was now above her and looking for him to signal it was okay for him to enter her. She kissed him twice, the last kiss lasting for several long seconds, and he slowly slid inside her. He let several inches inside, then began to torturously slide the rest in, inch by inch, it was so slow. She wanted him to force it in quick, but he knew what he was doing. He wanted this to last all night, he didn't want to let her go. She was growing wetter by the second, making it easier for him to penetrate her. She arched in to him, their kisses becoming more and more frequent and full of need. His arms wrapped around her shaking body and he whispered in her ear that she was his. He didn't let go, and he was bumping his hips into hers, it hurt but felt so good at the same time. She cried out, groaning and begging for more. Their bodies were sweaty and it made them stick together.

She bucked her hips into his, smiling as she raked her nails down his back, making him grunt. He looked a little angry, but it made him so much hotter. He kissed her hard as he shoved his cock inside her with one swift move. She screamed, and he began to shove it in, each time harder than the last. She bit her lip, suppressing a scream, and then he put kisses down her chest, to her stomach and back up. He placed one loving kiss to her lips before shooting a load of cum inside of her. It was hot and sticky, and it warmed her insides. Afterward he kept going, not stopping until she finally came, squeezing every last drop of cum out of him. He laid on his back, pulling her close to him. He kissed the top of her head and pulled the comforters over them. She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and enjoying his rhythmic breaths. He fell asleep holding her tight, and the last thing she remembered was whispering that she loved him.

"I love you, too, Willow." he whispered back.

She smiled and clung to him tight, and they fell asleep tangled in each others arms and sleeping comfortably for the first time in weeks.

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monikafilefan · 5 years

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Mulder teaches Scully to ride a bike (or Scully teaches Mulder)

This was so fun to write and I’m happy I was finally able to break through my writers block with this gem. I hope you like my attempt at humor!

Tagging @today-in-fic

——

“Mulder, I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“But you haven’t even tried it yet,” he states the obvious as her hands unclench the handlebars. His supportive grip slips away from the curve of her waist and he can’t hide his disappointment.

He watches her suck her plump bottom lip between her teeth and shuffle away from the wheel. She’s nervous, he notices now, and can’t fight off the instant surge of affection for his strong and fearless partner.

“Come on, Scully, I promise I’ll be right here to catch you,” he assures with a smirk.

She scoffs with fists on her hips and glares up at him through the gleaming summer sun. She’s wearing an old Bureau tee that accentuates her fit, sinewy frame and her jaw-length russet hair is pulled back in a low pony, punctuating the seriousness of this moment for her. She’s prepared - and though Mulder will never admit it aloud - he finds it utterly adorable.

“I’m not incapable, you know. I just… have trouble getting started once I’m seated is all.”

The playful stakeout conversation of childhood quirks leading up to this event was one that had both shocked and tickled Mulder. Learning that her rainbow tasseled bike with the banana seat and training wheels still attached was the last one she’d ever ridden, had him promptly tucking that golden nugget of information away for a perfect day such as this.

He nods with hands up, surrendering to her annoyance. “I have never once thought of you as incapable, Scully. Quite the opposite, in fact,” he confesses and feels the truth of his words coloring his golden skin.

“Well, that’s comforting, I suppose,” she says softly, arching a brow while allowing one of her rare, toothy smiles of appreciation for him to light up her sun-kissed face. “I have been known to save your ass on occasion throughout the last six years.”

“You won’t hear me disputing that fact, partner. I’d shout it throughout the bullpen if I thought anyone would care enough to listen to what ole Spooky had to say.” He watches her flush and turn her face into the breeze to calm it. If Mulder were bold enough, reckless, he might just lean down and press a kiss to each bronze-colored freckle peppering the apples of her cheeks. “It’s just that tomboy Dana Scully not being able to ride a bike seems like such a shame.”

“Mulder…” she huffs, facing him curiously. “I’ve never told you I was a tomboy growing up.”

Logically, Mulder already knows why she hasn’t mentioned this fun fact about herself. One, they only share personal details of their past when confronted head on. For self-preservation, most likely. To keep the professional status quo when their deeper feelings begin to bubble too close to the surface.

At least that’s what he does.

Two, he finally understands that even a strong, serious woman who chooses to fight ferociously as an equal among peers in a male dominated profession, might also want to be seen as feminine as possible when more personal opportunities present themselves.

“No,” he agrees, “you haven’t.”

“My mother.” Her statement is one of realization for Scully. He can tell she doesn’t know what reflective moment spurred on by tragedy in which her mother may have divulged childhood details to him, but the wistful look on her face leads him to believe she’s silently grateful for it. “Okay, then. Show me how it’s done, Yoda.”

He chuckles. “Oh, Scully, you hit me with a Star Wars reference and I’ll do just about anything for you.” Something flickers in her gaze that sends heat churning in his gut. He clears his throat as she runs the tip of her tongue across her rosebud lips and adds, “but Star Trek is more up my alley.”

“I’ll write that down for next time.”

Mulder waves her closer and nudges her hip playfully. “Come young Jedi, there is much to learn, there is.”

Scully grins, rolling her eyes and urges him on. He straddles the center bar of his old mountain bicycle he’s had in storage for nearly seven years, and pops the kick stand. With one sneaker on the pedal and the other pushing off the paved bike path, Mulder’s long legs whirl in a tight circle.

And he’d be lying to himself if his ego weren’t beginning to take over and push him to impress the woman he loves.

“See, you just shift your weight like this...” he hollers over his shoulder and pumps his legs harder with a sway of his hips, watching Scully in the distance as she points at something ahead of him. “...and then keep your balance as you—ah, oh shi—”

His words are cut off with a sudden jolt thrusting him toward the front wheel wedged within a pothole, handlebars twisting inward. Before he can catch his balance, his knees buckle, careening his hips down to connect with the only thing separating him from the pavement: the metal bar jutting out between his legs.

His crotch connects with force, sending a full 176lbs of meat, muscle, and bone down on his manhood.

“Mulder!”

Searing pain shoots up through his balls and into his groin. “Ah, fuck!”

His vision swims with burning tears as he slumps forward, breathless. He tentatively raises himself off the offending bar and appropriately crumples into the grass with a whimper.

He barely registers the clang of metal and aluminum hitting the hot pavement.

“Mulder,” Scully breathes out next to him. She’s here; touching him, soothing his pride. She caresses his cheek with what he’s deciphered over the years as sympathy as she needlessly asks, “Oh, Mulder, you took a bar to the groin, didn’t you?”

His gut clenches as a wave of nausea washes over him like a tidal wave in response.

Mulder swings his head away from his partner’s crouch to gag and spit pathetically on a nearby ant hill. Scully has shot him; seen his body and mind exposed; watched him bleed; held him as he cried; talked him out of shooting himself with holes in his head; and had taken vigil at his hospital bed too many times to count. But she has not and will not witness him lose what’s left of his breakfast all over her pristinely white Keds as he writhes in the dirt.

“Just take a deep breath for me,” she encourages. “That’s it.”

He groans deeply after swallowing back the precursor for puke. Carefully cupping his balls and penis, making sure the three important things currently thrumming with pain are still whole and intact between his thighs, he croaks, “I think broke my… my lightsaber.”

He hears her huff out a laugh and cluck her tongue. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, Mulder.”

“Maybe we’re better off if you teach me how to ride the Scully way,” he jests, meeting her soft, baby blue gaze as she hovers above. “I think we work best together that way, don’t you?”

She shrugs. “Oh I don’t know, Mulder.” Her warm hand slides around the back of his neck and helps pull him up to his knees. “I kind of like the way you ride, too.”

Mulder winces with a hand still awkwardly soothing the pang in his balls and his stomach roils. “Ugh…”

“Okay, let me take a look.” He gives her bug-eyed expression. She seems to wrestle with a decision in her mind and then gives him a determined nod. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

“Wh-why? They're still there. Trust me, I feel them.”

She sighs and knee walks around to face him. He’s hunching slightly on his knees, gripping both his crotch and his waist in intermittent agony.

Scully gives his arm a sympathetic squeeze. “It’s rare, but if you have serious damage to your testicals or penis, then I’ll be taking you to the hospital instead of home.”

“Sonofabitch.” His face flushes with embarrassment. He cannot believe his attempt to do something remotely sweet for his best friend will end with him icing his nuts on his couch alone tonight.

“Come on, just a peek,” she smirks, and he can’t help but grin in return. If he has to endure a shot to the boys in order for her to offer up her own innuendo, he’ll gladly take it every time.

With no one else around, Mulder reluctantly nods and slowly removes his hand, gesturing that it’s okay for her to slip into doctor mode.

Her slender fingers curl around the elastic, tickling the fine hair line above his groin, and helps him shuck down the front of his boxer briefs.

A cool, gentle breeze sweeps across his genitals and he hisses at the exposure. He looks down to see Scully’s red head poised just inches above his dick. Suddenly, a thought he’s completely neglected to consider during his bout of pain slams into him. Her proximity alone can make him hard. And this… this will be bad.

“Sc-Scully?” he rasps, feeling himself twitch to life. “Um—”

“—are they usually… uh, are you usually this… engorged during activity, Mulder?” Her voice is thick, honeyed, and it sends a tsunami of blood rushing downward.

“What?” You… well I’m not sure,” he shrugs, desperately attempting to think of anything that will salve off the rapid growth of an erection.

A puff of warm breath blows across the swell of him and fingernails gently scrape at his thigh.

Frohike. Skinner in a skirt. Byers wearing an apron…

When her soft fingertips graze the underside of his swelling cock, it’s too late. Mulder’s harder than he’s ever been, and the pain in his balls now is instantly gone.

The pain is gone.

“You’re fine.” Scully clears her throat, rocks up to her feet and quickly motions for him to pull up his shorts. He obeys, dumbstruck and too aroused to speak.

Risking a glance, Mulder notices that her once sun-kissed cheeks are now tomato red, and her sweat dappled chest is heaving.

“Thanks…” He stands, chagrined at the large bulge protruding proudly through his shorts. He mumbles, “I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Scully starts with a smile pulling at her mouth, “don’t say I never did anything for ya.”

“You… you did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

She picks up the bike and wheels it over, grinning. “I am a doctor, Mulder. I was just hoping it would work, you know with me being… well me,” she says shyly, attempting to mask her uncertainty of his physical attraction for her.

“Of course it worked. In fact, you work far too well far too often if you must know.”

Their eyes dance coyly together in the sunlight. Something new and simmering passes between them. Another golden nugget of intimacy to save for later.

“So...” She breaks the gaze and swings a leg over the bicycle seat. “Am I riding this death trap back to the car, or are you?”

Mulder laughs, slipping his hands back around the dip in her waist, fingers grasping at the velvet skin peeking out beneath her shirt, and leans in close.

“Teach you, I will.”

“Don’t push it, Yoda,” she tosses back with a smirk. “I’d much rather have my partner teach me to ride the Spooky way. Lightsaber and all.”

——

#msr fanfic #humor i think #UST #thoughtful Mulder #Scully has tricks

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notthefilmreview · 4 years

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I watched SET IT UP because I love LUCY LIU and ZOEY DEUTCH

Hey, it’s Dana!

The title basically says it all. Who doesn’t love Lucy Liu? (you can fight me if you don’t) She is seriously a *goddess*. As well as this, she was also the female Asian representation we had before the likes of London Tipton and Lara Jean (who are both, in their own way, utterly *iconic* - especially London because we need some dumb Asians once in a while, please and thank you).

This leads us into a nice segway to Zoey Deutch who starred alongside Brenda Song in The Suite Life on Deck as Maya (if you didn’t already know). It was a nice callback to my childhood because Zoey Deutch seems to be starring in more films (such as Zombieland 2) and is getting more publicity. But I will always remember her as Maya from Suite Life.

As for the two male leads, I don’t really know them that well but it does seem as though there is a lot of diversity and representation in the cast so I’m quite excited!

I love how her hair is just *chaotic* reflecting her job as an assistant being so overwhelming and crazy, which we witnessed in the opening scene with all the examples of assistants doing all the dirty work for their bosses.

OMG look at her! She is such a boss queen I love her so much!

A bit unrelated but his office looks really clean but quite empty. His office looks a bit like a shopping centre which is a bit off-putting.

I’m a bit confused about why she cries over sports so I hope they answer that with a backstory or something. However, even if they do decide to explain it with a backstory it’s probably going to be a weird one that’s meant for comedic effect.

Talking about the comedy, they do try to make a few jokes (such as her getting emotional over senior citizens playing sports in front of her boss and her crying once again over sports in her own home) but they haven’t actually made me laugh yet. So I really hope they improve the comedy or I’m going to be a tad bit disappointed.

I didn’t think it would annoy me this much but the fact that his office looks like a shopping centre keeps distracting me! Lucy Liu’s office looks perfecting fine it’s just Rick’s office which is quite annoying because the film predominately takes place in their offices.

Okay, so I think I finally (possibly) understand why Zoey Deutch’s character cries over sports so much because she wants to write for Kirsten’s website so she has a weird passion for sports - POSSIBLY…

However, I still remain utterly confused.

Awwwww the Creepy Maintenance Guy Tim is actually so *adorable* - I can’t! All he wants is a “SUCCULENT” but no matter how much he cares for them they just end up slowly dying because he works on the ground floor.

Also, it was quite nice of him to help them get Rick and Kirsten get stuck in the elevator.

That elevator scene, on the other hand, was seriously horrible. I believe it was an attempt at comedy (which actually seemed more comedic in the trailer) but played out, it was more awkward and sickening than funny.

Actually, they should bring back Creepy Tim because he was the only one who made me laugh a tiny bit.

“I hope you took the stairs.”

That was actually kind of a funny callback to the elevator scene where the guy who got locked in the elevator with them said he would only take the stairs because he’s claustrophobic but that day he decided to take the elevator instead…then he pissed himself.

This kiss cam scene was quite fun especially when the whole stadium started chanting for them to kiss.

My only critique is that there was a lot of anticipation and buildup in the lead up to the kiss but the camera only stayed on the kiss cam for about a few seconds before panning back to the assistants. I think it would’ve been a lot more *impactful* if they decided to leave it on Rick and Kirsten for a while and even zoom into their faces so we could see their full reaction to kissing each other and their realisation that they like each other. Then they pan the camera to their assistants and everyone cheering for them.

Lucy Liu just looks stunning in this suit. Omg, slay!

That’s it.

While it is a bit overexaggerating to argue over Korean BBQ, it was a bit rude of Rick to not let Kirsten invite him to come to dinner and show him how to eat the food he’s never tried before. Rick just seems a tad bit too proud to be with a strong, independent, entrepreneur like Kirsten.

Also, not to take any sides (but we can all see that I love Lucy Liu too much to not take her side) but Rick just seems like a man-child because he keeps smashing valuable items. I know he’s probably worth billions of dollars but computers and printers are *expensive* and every time he smashes one it hurts my soul.

Drunk Rick is lowkey funny though…(is it rude to say that I like him better drunk?)

But damn Lucy Liu does look fine…

I support Duncan and Harper’s friendship!

I do see what they’re trying to do here by creating this friendship to compare with Suze (Charlie’s girlfriend), who Duncan had previously said had no personality. I think they’re attempting to do the gay best friend trope to have Duncan push Charlie and Harper together by the end of the film.

I did find it funny when Harper revealed the first guy she ever had sex with came out as gay while coming inside of her probably because of the play on words (and the dirty joke, duh).

I did like this dancing scene because it was just weird and wacky. The lighting and the music was just so fitting.

I am enjoying the buildup of Harper and Charlie’s relationship and it was fun to watch Charlie spin her while she was all drunk.

Also, when she said “I want pizza” after he spun her around - I relate so much! The romantic music playing while they were eating the pizza was actually quite funny but also magical at the same time because you can really tell they’ve finally fallen for each other. And it was over PIZZA.

If that’s not romance then I don’t know what is.

Just a sidetrack but I love Zoey Deutch’s outfit with the tartan skirt.

Oh wow, okay! Just when you thought you could finally allow yourself to like Rick he goes, he decides to have a one night stand with his ex-wife! Before his wedding! With Kirsten!

Kirsten just deserves way better than Rick and only Harper knows that she does! #KirstenDeservesBetter.

This part before the ending is one of those cliches where she finally gets the time to write her article and he gets that promotion he wants and they both realise the mistakes they made until they finally come back together.

I usually find these bits boring and useless because they’ve been played out so many times in several different movies that you know everything’s going to be sorted out by the end of the movie.

Not to hate on Suze but she does take incredibly small bites of a $70 steak and she does put her cutlery on the table while she eats. They may be eating in a fancy restaurant where everything is super clean but that’s still quite unsanitary. Sorry, Suze.

Finally! I’ve been waiting for this moment since I laid eyes on Rick and he got what he deserves! Also, it was quite funny when one of the guys mistook Charlie’s big speech as him trying to win Kirsten from Rick. Not gonna lie, but if I was Charlie I would have just gone with it, grab Kirsten, then yeet off far far away from Rick.

Ahhhhh! Okay, this ending was fantastic! I love how he was just straightforward with the yes “I like you” and I love their cute little banter just before kissing.

So overall this movie wasn’t great at first, as they tried too hard to be funny when the jokes just didn’t quite land. However, as the movie progressed, the jokes were still not great but they did deserve a small laugh or grin (emphasis on the *small*)

The relationship between Kirsten and Rick did play out well and it was a good choice to finally have Kirsten dump Rick’s ass after she realised they truly did not know anything about each other (and she needed someone who was more of her equal rather than a man-child who’s threatened by a strong woman). I did want Charlie to tell Kirsten that Rick got back with his ex-wife before their wedding because that would’ve been the icing on the top of the reasons why everyone should hate Rick! (Get rid of the Rick’s in your life, girls, just saying!)

As for Harper and Charlie’s relationship, I’m quite satisfied with how it progressed slowly through the movie with the highlights of their relationship being the dancing scene and them eating pizza together, then that final kiss (which was just perfect!)

What movie should I watch next???

Bonus:

Yayyyyy Crazy Tim! This was actually a nice callback to Crazy Tim by having him see them kissing on the CCTV camera because we all know he just loves love and wants everyone to fall in love and be happy!

#CrazyTimDeservesLove!

#set it up #zoey deutch #glen powell #lucy liu #taye diggs #netflix #netlix with me #movies #movie commentary #netflix and chill #movieblr #films

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rachelstwomoms · 4 years

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CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AU: Rachel’s Birthday (Part 2/?)

( Previous chapter here )

Spin the bottle truth or dare turned out to be awesome, just like Dana said. Nobody was brave enough to choose truth, so the game just ended up being Rachel and her classmates daring each other to do dumb, embarrassing things while everyone else watched and laughed, but that in itself was perfect for lifting Rachel’s spirits. After three more kids ended up either jumping willingly or being pushed into the pool with their clothes on, Rose came outside to reprimand them. She raised her voice and forbade anybody else from entering the pool because four o’clock was approaching, the party would be over soon, and she doesn’t need anyone’s parents complaining when she returns them a soaking wet child. Despite the seriousness of Rose’s tone, Rachel has to slap a hand across her mouth to stifle her laughter, finding it absolutely hilarious to watch her stepmother scold her friends instead of her.

The game died pretty quickly after that. Getting in trouble with a parent seemed to put a damper on the fun, and some of the parents had started to arrive to pick up their kids anyway. Rachel, Maxine and Chloe return inside and hang out in the hallway, Maxine on front door duty and Chloe handing out goodie bags as the party guests leave. As both the birthday girl and a parent favorite, Rachel is on the receiving end of tons of hugs and birthday wishes from the adults. Rachel preens and basks in the extra attention, all smiles as she thanks everyone for coming.

At around four thirty, the last guest leaves. Rose shuts the door behind them and exhales a long, weary breath, thankful that the most stressful part of the party is over. Now until tomorrow morning, it’s just going to be Rachel, Maxine and Chloe. Rachel’s had her two best friends sleep over several times already and they haven’t run into any major problems yet. Maxine is such a sweetheart, and Chloe…

Well, she can handle Chloe.

“Rachel, honey, are you still up for tonight as planned?” Rose just wants to make sure.

“Yeah!” Rachel is in the living room, popping the mix CD labeled “Rachel’s Party Jamz” she got from Chloe into the stereo. “When are we leaving?”

“Probably in about an hour. I’m going to clean up a bit first,” says Rose, looking around at the huge mess Rachel’s classmates left behind. She starts clearing paper cups and paper plates from various pieces of furniture. “You three can relax until it’s time to go. No more snacks, though. I’d like you to save your appetites for dinner.”

“Okay!” Rachel sits down on the floor next to her pile of presents. “I can open these now, right?”

“Go ahead.”

Rachel and Chloe cheer and turn their attention to the stack of colorfully wrapped packages and gift bags in the corner of the room. Instead of joining them, Maxine wordlessly wanders out into the kitchen, where Rose is grabbing a trash bag from underneath the sink. The young girl accidentally startles the woman, who stands back up only to find Maxine suddenly standing right in front of her.

“Oh, Maxine! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did you need something?”

“Can I help you clean up?”

Rose’s heart swells. “That’s very sweet of you. I think Rachel’s about to open her presents, though. Wouldn’t you rather watch?”

Maxine shakes her head. “It’s okay. She can show me later.”

Chloe pokes her head over the living room bookshelves. “Goodie-two-shoes Maxine Caulfield strikes again!”

With Maxine’s assistance, Rose finishes the party cleanup in half the time it would’ve taken her alone. She rinses the soap suds off the very last platter and hands it to Maxine, who is ready with a clean towel. Rose peels off her rubber gloves and drapes them over the edge of the sink, then takes the freshly dried platter from Maxine. “Thanks again for all your help, dear. I think we’re all done.”

Rachel comes running into the kitchen carrying a handful of gift cards. “Rose, look! I got fifty dollars to use at the smoothie place!”

“Let’s open Maxine’s present now!” Chloe waves both of her friends over. “Maxine, get your butt over here. We saved yours for last!”

Maxine was hoping that Rachel would open her gift while she was out in the kitchen with Rose so she wouldn’t have to watch. Instead, Rachel has grabbed her hand and she’s being pulled right back over to the big purple gift bag that she was relieved to get rid of earlier. At birthday parties, Maxine always dreads present time. She doesn’t like when everyone turns to look at her after the birthday kid announces that the next one’s from her, and she always worries that they’re going to hate her gift.

Today should be fine because it’s only Rachel and Chloe here and they’re her friends, but Maxine’s still feeling kind of embarrassed. She just hopes that Rachel doesn’t think her gift is lame. Maxine stands awkwardly next to Chloe as Rachel reaches into the bag, ripping out fistfuls of pink tissue paper and plucks out a small lavender envelope. Maxine quietly hopes that Rachel doesn’t open her birthday card right then and there, or worse, read it out loud in front of her.

Last weekend, Vanessa Caulfield came home from the store with a blank birthday card and told her daughter that it would be nice if she wrote her own message for Rachel. Following her mother’s instructions, Maxine ended up spending nearly an hour of her Sunday morning coming up with a message on a sheet of scratch paper, copying it in pencil into the card, and then tracing over it in pen in neat, careful cursive.

The message ended up being longer than Maxine expected. Now that Rachel’s actually reading it, every second that ticks by makes it seem even longer. Maxine stands there, rubbing her elbow anxiously and watching hazel eyes move left and right across the card.

Rachel’s lips curl into a smile as she gets to the latter half of her friend’s handwritten message. By the time she reaches the end and looks over at Maxine again, she’s positively beaming. “Thanks, Maxine. That was really sweet.”

“I wanna see!” Chloe’s hand shoots out and makes a grab for the card.

Maxine’s heart nearly stops.

But Rachel swiftly moves it out of Chloe’s reach and uses her other arm to nudge her away. “Never mind. Let’s see what’s in this baby!” Rachel picks up the gift bag, waves it in front of Chloe’s face, then drops it in her lap.

Chloe looks down and grins, instantly forgetting about Maxine’s card. “Yeah! Maxine always gives the best presents. This one’s gonna be good.”

While Chloe’s distracted, Rachel sweeps the card under the pile of other birthday cards on the coffee table and out of sight. She meets eyes with Maxine one more time, flashing her another bright smile and a wink before turning her attention back to her last present of the day.

Maxine lets out a relieved sigh, heart swelling with appreciation for how Rachel always just seems to know how she’s feeling without her even saying anything. There have been times when Maxine has been almost convinced that Rachel can read her mind. That, or she’s just really, really good at guessing things about people.

Over the next few seconds, Maxine’s birthday gift for Rachel is unveiled at last. Rachel reaches into the gift bag and pulls out a pale yellow, star-shaped pillow. Across the front is the word dreamer in curvy, white script with glittery, golden threads woven into each letter.

“Oh my god, it’s so cute!” squeals Rachel. She hugs it to her chest and nuzzles her face into the soft, plushy fabric. “And it’s perfect for my room!”

Finished with most of the party cleanup, Rose comes over and takes a seat in a nearby chair. She eyes the small mountain of gift wrap, tissue paper and ribbons accumulating near the fireplace. “How’s everything going over here, girls?”

“Rose! Look what Maxine got me!”

While Rachel excitedly shows off her new pillow, Maxine takes a starts to relax. Rachel likes her present after all. The pile of gifts nearby catches her eye and she takes a curious peek. There are books, board games and card games, a fuzzy purple diary with a matching pen, lots of bracelets, a few lip gloss sets and even a faux fur handbag that she’s pretty sure is from Juliet, who was carrying a similar one when she arrived. Maxine recognizes Chloe’s gift right away. They picked it out together last week during a Price family shopping trip – according to William, Maxine is an honorary family member – to the local mall. After much meandering in and out of several stores looking for something for Rachel, they finally found the gift during a short detour to Chloe’s favorite shop.

Sitting right on the top shelf in the middle of the science and discovery section was a set of bath confetti shaped like stars, hearts and diamonds. Six different colors, six different scents. Maxine and Chloe both know that for the past couple of weeks, their friend has been all about fizzy bath bombs and sweet-smelling lotions, so this would be right up her alley. But the best part, the very reason why Chloe was drawn to it in the first place, was the awesome packaging. The soap flakes are stored in little scientific test tubes, all lined up in their very own test tube rack.

An ideal gift for Rachel with a Chloe-esque flair.

“Hey.”

There’s a tap on her shoulder, and Maxine turns to come face to face with Chloe, who has two ribbons stuck to her forehead and a smaller one on the tip of her nose. She looks ridiculous. Maxine dissolves into a fit of laughter and gives Chloe a gentle, playful shove. “You’re such a dork.”

Chloe gives a cheeky grin and bows deeply, causing one of the ribbons to fall into her lap. “Thank you very much.”

Rose guides Rachel back over to her friends with a hand on her back. “Girls, I’m going to go freshen up a bit, but let’s be ready to leave in about ten minutes or so, okay?”

“Okay!”

Next up on Rachel’s birthday schedule is dinner and an evening of games at the big arcade downtown, and neither Maxine nor Chloe have ever been there before. Maxine’s parents are not big fans of “loud, unsophisticated establishments” such as arcades, and when Joyce and William take them out, they tend to stick to local places around the neighborhood. The Bay is the most popular center of entertainment in all of Arcadia Bay for older kids, teens and adults. No colorful ball pits, no carousels playing nursery rhymes, and not a single singing anthropomorphic animal in sight. Just a vast array of bleeping, blooping machines as far as the eye can see.

All of this, along with the promise of all-you-can-eat pizza and a huge cup of game tokens courtesy of James Amber, has the girls absolutely stoked for their fun night ahead.

James and Rose lead the girls to a spacious booth in the corner of the restaurant section. It has a clear view of the arcade, perfect for when they will need to keep an eye on Rachel and her friends later on. As expected, the girls quickly shovel down their pizza and are begging to be excused from the table before Rose even finishes her first slice. James gives them their tokens and tells them that he will be coming around every so often to check up on them. With one last warning from Rose to have fun but be careful, the girls disappear into the sea of beeps, whirs and hypnotizing lights.

Most visitors to The Bay see its wide selection of arcade games as a place to let loose, play around and have fun.

Rachel Amber sees a battlefield.

This is her chance to challenge her friends to some friendly competition.

For the first hour, Rachel marches around the arcade leading Chloe and Maxine around to different games. The birthday girl effortlessly places first during every race, dances the highest combos, and shoots down the most monsters. Victory after victory sends Rachel into a winner’s high and, before long, there’s a smug bounce in her step as she looks around for more games to win.

Just when Rachel thinks that she’s won every possible multiplayer game in the room, she spots one that she and her friends haven’t been to yet. Grinning excitedly, Rachel points to the lone table nearly hidden behind some of the bigger, more visually appealing machines. “Let’s play that next!”

Chloe and Maxine follow her finger and find an air hockey table. They look at each other and share a smile.

Rachel’s already standing on one side of the table, picking up one of the strikers. “So, who wants to go against me? Chloe?”

Chloe tries her hardest to act casual and keep a straight face. “Actually, Rach, why don’t you play with Maxine?”

“Oh, okay,” says Rachel, shrugging. She waves her younger friend over. “Come play with me, Maxine!”

Rachel shoves two of her tokens into the coin slot on the side of the machine and the table comes to life. The overhead scoreboard starts glowing and cool air starts to blow from the tiny holes on the table’s surface. There’s a rattle and a clang! as the machine ejects a neon green puck into the pocket on Rachel’s side.

Rachel waits for Maxine to pick up the other striker before she places the puck on the table. “Ready?”

“Ready,” replies Maxine, her free hand moving to hold the edge of the table.

Lightly tapping the puck, Rachel sends it over to Maxine. She watches her opponent carefully, gauging her ability. With a smooth swipe forward, Maxine returns the puck with quite a bit of force. It shoots back across the table so quickly that Rachel just barely manages to stop it from entering her goal.

“Whoa,” exclaims Rachel, quickly straightening up as she realizes that this is going to be a serious match. Maxine has lagged behind her and Chloe in pretty much every game they’ve played so far, so she wasn’t expecting her to be this… this good. Although Rachel was able to react quickly enough to block Maxine’s shot, it took her by so much surprise that blocking it was all she did. The puck merely bounces off her striker and lazily floats back across the table.

Clack!

The game has barely begun, but Maxine sends the puck soaring past Rachel’s hand and into the goal.

Maxine, one. Rachel, zero.

Chloe jumps up and down and cheers.

Rachel is speechless.

That first goal happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that Rachel is still trying to process what happened. With her mouth hanging open slightly, she looks across the table at Maxine, who’s smiling sheepishly at her. Rachel’s going to have to keep on her toes for this match. She takes a moment to stretch her arms and roll her shoulders before she reaches below her to retrieve the puck.

The match continues, and Rachel tries every approach to try and throw Maxine off: surprise quick shots, bouncing the puck against the walls, even attempting to distract her with conversation. But no matter what she does, Maxine’s reflexes are as sharp as ever.

The score is now six to one, with Maxine in the lead. When Rachel managed to score her first point, she was only two points behind. This gave her some hope and, for a brief moment, she felt as though she still had a chance to catch up and turn the game around. Her optimism changed into a sense of impending doom, however, when Maxine proceeded to score three more back-to-back points.

And now Maxine only needs to score one more time to win.

Beads of sweat shine on Rachel’s forehead, and on her face is a fierce look of sheer concentration. No matter what, she can’t let Maxine get another point, or else… or else she loses. She has to watch Maxine’s movements like a hawk. Pausing first to wipe her sweaty palm on her shorts, Rachel takes a deep breath, grips her striker tightly, and tries to decide on her next move. Should she attack from the left or from the right? Rachel wonders if Maxine has a weak side. She spends several seconds wracking her brain to try and remember which half of the goal she hit the puck into when she scored. Maybe if she can do exactly the same thing…

“Hurry up, Rachel!” shouts Chloe, impatiently. “We’re not getting any younger over here!”

Rachel glares at her and slams the puck onto the table. “Okay, okay!”

If Rachel doesn’t keep Maxine from scoring again, that’s it. Game over. She moves the puck over a few inches to the left, but decides to aim to the right. Rachel hits the puck as hard as she can and it bounces off the side of the table. Unsurprisingly, Maxine swings at just the right timing and hits it back to Rachel, who moves her hand accordingly and sends it back to Maxine.

Chloe watches the rally between her friends intently, eyes moving back and forth with the hockey puck. It’s not that Rachel’s bad at air hockey. Not at all. Chloe’s played against Rachel before at the mini arcade at their neighborhood pizza parlor, and Rachel’s beaten her loads of times. But Maxine is crazy good. In all the years that they have been best friends, Chloe has never been able to win against Maxine at air hockey, not even once. Even her dad, William, has played against her before, but not even he could prove to be any match for Maxine Caulfield.

All of a sudden, Maxine gives a hard swing and the puck flies straight toward Rachel.

Out of pure reflex and desperation, Rachel’s free hand shoots forward and slams the oncoming puck flat against the table, stopping it right before it enters her goal.

Chloe’s eyes widen and she leaps up, pointing. “Hey! That’s cheating!”

“I-I know!” Rachel’s flustered. She didn’t mean to do that… it just happened. “Sorry Maxine. Can we redo that one?” Rachel swipes the puck back across the table with her hand.

Maxine nods, bringing her striker down to catch it. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

“No hands, Rachel,” Chloe teases. Her friend makes a face and sticks out her tongue in response.

Rachel tucks her hair behind her ears and readjusts her grip on her striker. “Okay, go.”

Maxine lightly taps the puck over to Rachel, but Rachel is so worked up that she swipes at it with such force that she misses, barely grazing its edge. It spins and veers off horizontally to the right, bumping the side of the table and slowly floating back. Rachel grits her teeth and swings again, knocking the puck across the table as hard as she can. It bounces wildly back and forth between the walls of the table, but Maxine watches closely and is able to block it. She strikes it against the wall just like Rachel did, but at an angle that makes it rebound and sail right towards the goal.

“Don’t-!” Rachel sweeps her hand in front of her and swings blindly. By some miracle, she stops the puck just in time and manages to hit it back to Maxine.

The puck glides back across the table, and Rachel watches it go. She almost can’t believe she blocked that shot. For a second there, she thought she was a goner-

Crack!

With a sharp flick, Maxine smacks the puck straight across the table. It flies right past Rachel’s hand and into the goal. Sirens go off, signaling the end of the game, and the scoreboard flashes the final score: seven to one.

“Yes!” Chloe pumps her fist in the air and goes over to congratulate Maxine with a high five. “Maxine, undefeated air hockey champion!”

Rachel stands at the other end of the table, seemingly in shock. She’s still holding the striker. As it slowly sinks in that she lost the game, Rachel’s brows furrow and her lips turn down in a pout.

Rachel Amber is not a graceful loser.

As she looks at Maxine, though, Rachel realizes that she doesn’t have it in her to get mad. Maxine isn’t laughing at her or rubbing it in her face like Chloe probably would have.

But Rachel is definitely over air hockey.

Abandoning her striker, Rachel turns her back to the game and walks away, motioning for Chloe and Maxine to follow her. “Let’s do something else.”

The girls spend the evening hard at play, only occasionally coming back to the table where Rose and James are sitting to chug soda or take a few more bites of pizza. Eventually, Rachel and Chloe break out into a battle to see who can win the most tickets. Maxine tags along for a while but, as the night goes on, starts to find it hard to keep up with her overzealously competitive friends. In the end, Maxine announces that she’s going to take a break and relinquishes all of her tickets to Rachel as a birthday gift, which earns her an elated smile from the birthday girl… and some grumbling from Chloe.

It’s about half past seven when Maxine returns to the table alone, looking absolutely exhausted.

“Having fun?” asks Rose, welcoming Maxine back with a warm smile. The girl nods and gives a tiny smile in return, but Rose can tell that she certainly needs a breather. She pats the space beside her. “Have a seat, dear. It’s almost time to head home anyway.”

Knowing Maxine isn’t much of a talker, Rose reaches into her purse and pulls out her digital camera to show her some party pictures from that afternoon. Maxine looks at them with interest and warms up to Rose quickly. There are tons of photos of Rachel and her classmates, some taken inside and some outside by the pool, and Maxine giggles when Rose flips to one photo in particular. It’s one of her, Chloe and Rachel standing together by the edge of the pool, dripping wet, having paused to pose for the camera just before jumping back in. Maxine and Rachel are both smiling, and Rachel’s even throwing in double peace signs, but Chloe has her hands covering her chest and crotch, mouth shaped like an O and pretending to be shocked as though Rose just walked in on her taking a shower.

Rose comes to a few blurry shots of Rachel’s birthday cake and she shakes her head. She flips past those quickly, apologizing and sounding slightly embarrassed as she explains that the camera just wouldn’t cooperate when she tried to take some closeups.

Maxine identifies the problem immediately. “You should change the settings.”

“I’m sorry?” Rose sounds a little lost.

“On the camera,” Maxine explains. “For closeups. If you change it to macro mode, you should get a clear shot.”

The woman chuckles, now remembering that Maxine is an aspiring photographer. “I don’t know much about cameras. Could you show me?”

Maxine’s eyes seem to sparkle as Rose hands her the camera. “Sure.”

Rose watches in fascination as Maxine’s little fingers press several buttons and navigate through various menus that pop up on the screen. Her face lights up when she finds what she was looking for. Holding the camera out so that Rose can see, Maxine points to one of the buttons near the top of the camera. “If you press this, you can change the focus settings. For really close closeups, you’ll want the one with the flower symbol.”

“I see,” says Rose. “And then I can just take a photo normally?”

“Yeah,” Maxine replies. She moves the camera to the side and snaps a quick photo of the bottom of Rose’s glass of ice water. “See?”

When Rose leans in to look at the photo Maxine took, she’s completely blown away. The tiny drops of condensation on the outside of the glass are in perfect focus, so clear that they almost look like crystals. “Wow, honey, that’s amazing.”

Maxine returns the camera to Rose. “To go back to normal mode, just press the same button until the flower goes away.”

Rose presses the button once and the flower icon turns into something triangular. “What does this one mean?”

“Those are mountains. That’s if you want to take a picture of something really far away.”

Rose hums and nods, thoroughly impressed with Maxine’s camera knowledge. She presses the same button again and, just like Maxine promised, the icons disappear. “Thank you, Maxine. This is very helpful.”

“Rachel, slow down!”

Both Rose and Maxine turn their heads toward the familiar voice. Rachel and Chloe are back, but something’s very wrong. Rachel comes storming over, clearly furious, and wordlessly plops herself in the seat across from them. She forcefully slams her plastic cup of tickets onto the table, making Maxine jump. Rose takes one look at Rachel and knows it’s probably time to head home.

Chloe catches up and slides into the booth next to Rachel. “I told you not to play it anymore.”

Rose isn’t sure whether she should press further, or if she should take a different approach and try to take Rachel’s mind off of… whatever this is about. She ends up not needing to make that decision, however, because Maxine brings it up first.

“What happened?”

Rachel is too upset to answer, so Chloe does. “She wasted all of her tokens on a dumb prize game.”

“It’s not fair!” Rachel sounds close to tears. “The stupid machine’s rigged!”

“Oh dear…” sighs Rose. Distract and divert. “Honey, it’s okay. You know what? It’s about time for us to leave anyway. You, Chloe and Maxine still get to trade in your tickets for prizes, right?”

“Maxine gave me her tickets,” Rachel tells her, pulling the collar of her shirt up to wipe her eyes.

“She did? Oh, that was very sweet of her, wasn’t it?”

Rachel nods. “And Chloe let me have some of her tokens.”

“You're lucky to have such caring friends.” Rose starts to pack up her things, and the girls follow suit. “Let's exchange those tickets and head home. Don't forget, you girls still have ice cream and a movie waiting for you.”

“Where's Dad?” asks Rachel, suddenly noticing that her father is missing.

Shaking her head, Rose laughs softly. “Would you believe that he's been at that silly horse racing game for the past hour? I’ll tell him it's time to go. We'll meet you girls by the prizes.”

While Rachel, Chloe and Maxine scurry off to redeem their tickets, Rose goes to search for her husband. The last time she had seen him, he and a few others were crouched over the large metal race track in the corner of the arcade, placing bets on which mechanical horse would come in first place. Rose arrives at the horse racing game but, to her confusion, the stool where James was sitting earlier is now empty. She stands there for a moment, scanning the premises, but Rachel’s father is nowhere to be found.

Rose tuts under her breath, then fumbles through her handbag for her cell phone. No missed calls. Flipping her phone open with her thumb, Rose holds down the ‘3’ key and speed dials James’ cell number. It rings… and rings… and rings. Sighing, Rose shuts her phone and decides to head back to the table to see if James is there. Perhaps he had gone to the restroom, or on another round to check up on the girls…

“Rose!”

The woman turns, and there’s James, coming back inside through the front doors, cell phone in hand and waving wildly to get her attention. Rose waits with a hand on her hip, ready to ask him where he had run off to all of a sudden, but the words die on her tongue as James comes closer and she sees the troubled expression on his face. Her mild annoyance is replaced with worry. “What is it?”

James shakes his head slightly and rests his free hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Rose, I just got off the phone with Sera.”

Rose raises an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“She’s at the airport. She’s coming over tonight after all.”

#childhood friends au #rachel amber #chloe price #max caulfield #life is strange #my art

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peacenik0 · 5 years

Note

Anon from wtfmulder: Mulder and Scully smoking weed at the unremarkable house and fucking outside 😘

@xfilesgayepisode said: Hello my friend! ☺️ I’m a big fan of the Mulder and Scully getting high prompt so this one goes for u! Scully finds a joint in William's bedroom and Mulder insists on smoking it. they make sweet and high love, order pizza, and William comes home to two very stoned parents ❤️

A/N: This has a few elements of both these prompts. This was written without a beta or real proofreading. Something I was a little scared to try, but here it is. Go toke another one, ya’ll.

tagging @today-in-fic @wtfmulder @illnevermeettheground @cultureisdarkbeer @admiralty-xfd

---

They have been living in this little yellow house in Farr’s Corner, Virginia for almost a month. They found the place by happenstance. Driving south after visiting her mother in Bethesda. Scully missed her mom, missed the east coast, missed staying still for even a moment. Technically, Mulder was still wanted by the FBI, and they figured a non-descript home in backwoods Virginia was just the place.

They sit in the front porch swing, taking in the gorgeous mid-June night. The evening sun stays high in the sky for a long time. The air is cool, but not cold. Perfect. The breeze teases Mulder’s longish hair, and he gives her that look. His eyes twinkling in a mischevious kind of way. He’s clearly up to something.

“Mulder, what are you up to?” She asks, a smile teasing her lips. His own mouth turns up in a wry grin.

“Look what I got, Scully,” he says, whipping a small carefully twisted joint out of his Khaki jacket pocket. Her jaw drops a little at Mulder’s cavalier attitude.

“Mulder!”

“I figure that I might as well... seeing as I am already a wanted man,” he says lighting up the joint with a silver butane lighter.

“Where in the hell did you get that?” She asks, pointing at the offending item perched between his lips.

“It’s a secret...” he says taking a long drag. When he exhales, he begins coughing harder than she’s ever seen him cough before. Doubling over, he gasps for breath. The doctor in her gently pats his back in comfort. “I’m fine,” he says, still out of breath.

“Mulder, do you even know what you’re doing?” Her question is met with a deep rumbling inside his chest. “Seriously, when was the last time you smoked Cannabis?”

“Cannabis, Scully? Can’t you just call it weed like a normal person?” He chuckles, his mouth going into a wide boyish smile.

“Cannabis is the scientific name, thank you very much,” she says crossing her arms over her chest.

“You want some?” He asks after taking a much smaller puff.

“No, thank you. You seem like you’re having enough fun for the both of us,” she says, trying not to laugh at the way his long nose seems to be getting redder by the minute. “I tried it once in college, and I didn’t feel anything.”

She always feared that getting high would make her stupid, or even seem less competent. She hated the idea of seeming less intelligent than she was.

“No one gets hight their first time, Scully.” His eyes are glassy, but he still manages to give her that puppy-dog look, the same one that once convinced her to lie for him in front of a Senate panel. “Just give it a try, if you don’t like it, fine.” That same big goofy smile graces his lips.

“Okay, fine,” she finally relents. “But if this is laced with something...” She says accusatorily. Mulder holds his hands up innocently.

---

An hour later, and Dana Scully is stoned. So intoxicated that colorful pinwheels of light swirl before her eyes. She blinks woozily and smiles at Mulder.

“Do you feel good?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hums up at him. His arm is around her now, and she takes this opportunity to lean into him. Her fingers splay and bounce over his firm stomach muscles. “When did you get these?” she says lifting up his shirt playfully to poke at his belly.

“You like?” he asks, lifting up his shirt to display the nearly defined almost eight pack. Scully sighs in admiration. This is all hers.

“I could take it or leave it,” she says a grin teasing the corners of her mouth.

“Oh is that right?” He asks, raising his eyebrows at her. “Too bad I don’t feel the same about yours,” he says lunging forward. His hands are merciless on her ribs, tickling her until she is gasping for air. Quickly, she slips out of his grasp, and onto the porch. Mulder wastes no time in playfully tackling her to the ground. She hasn’t laughed this hard in months. It feels good.

Like guilty teenagers, they slip behind their new home to lie in the grass and watch the glittering milky way. The moon is high in the sky above them, setting the grass alight in a wash of crystal dewdrops. His hand comes to her narrow hip, his eyes are dark pools of desire. Her body vibrates with the magnetic pull of her blood. She feels lightheaded, gleeful as he kisses her. Everything feels like a new beginning. Like first love. Their bodies move together like they are supposed to. Like they were made to do this.

After she rolls him on top of her like a warm blanket. The fireflies blink in the rural darkness of their home. Their home. She smiles. It may not be the life she dreamed of, but Mulder is here and alive. They are together, that is all that matters.

Scully feels his stomach grumble, “Hungry?” she asks.

“Yeah, I’m starving,” he chuckles happily. Thoughts of mushrooms and onions fill her mind.

“Do you think any Pizza places deliver out here?”

“Good question. Let’s find out.”

---

Take a hit and hit the comments.

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ericsonclan · 4 years

Text

When She Braided Her Hair

Summary: Prisha struggles to adjust to life with only one functioning arm. Violet helps her see that there's still hope.

Notes: Companion piece to “Braiding Her Hair”, this time from Prisha's perspective.

Read on A03:

Prisha sat alone in her dorm room at Ericson’s School for Troubled Youth, trying her hardest to keep perfectly still as she reached with her one good arm to stroke the brush through her hair. Every misplaced twitch had her seizing up in pain, the burning sensation from her shattered arm radiating throughout her entire body. It had already been weeks since the injury, but she was nowhere near recovered. She would never fully recover; she was maimed for life. Prisha gritted her teeth, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the new grim reality of her condition. She might be an invalid, but she could still have neat hair. She wasn’t letting this injury take away the one part of herself she’d always maintained. Finally after several minutes of painstaking effort and barely contained gasps of agony, her hair had been thoroughly brushed out. All that remained was to braid it. Prisha reached behind her, groaning in pain as she attempted to pull her hair forward. She started her regular steps, separating the hair into equal portions on her left side, right and her back, then froze as the realization struck her: this wasn’t going to work. This method relied on her approaching the braid from both sides at once with two hands. Prisha felt panic rising within her once more, the same she had felt at Ruby’s words as she informed her of what had happened to her arm. The same she experienced as she watched Dana and Marie be taken away while the rest of her group bled to death on the cliffside. No. Don’t let yourself go back there. She would find a new way to braid her hair. Standing up, Prisha walked over to where she’d laid the brush on the desk. Perhaps she could use it as some sort of placeholder, a bookmark while she shifted her good arm to the next position. This could work. The panic subsided as she once again began to undertake the task of braiding her hair. It was soon replaced with anger however as the brush quickly proved itself ineffectual. It would either slide out of the place she wanted it to be or get tangled in the hair it was meant to hold. After a few rounds, the brush became particularly snarled within her hair. Prisha tried to pry it out gently, then grew angry, swinging her hair back and forth. Her crippled arm immediately retaliated with an absolutely debilitating pain, causing Prisha to cry out and crumple in half from the pain. The brush clanged against the metal bedpost and fell uselessly to the ground. “Prisha? Are you OK?”

She heard the door open and immediately straightened up, casting a venomous glare at the treacherous brush. The corners of her eyes stung with tears she was too furious to shed. “What’s wrong?” It was Violet’s voice. She was the one who had carried Prisha back to the school, the girl who had saved her life. For her to come at this of all times was utterly humiliating. Prisha let out a harsh sigh. “I asked Ruby for a brush since after three weeks in a braid my hair looks like it belongs to a mongoose. Silly me though, I forgot that I would need two hands to rebraid my hair, just like I need two fucking hands for everything in this goddamn world!” Prisha felt her chest heaving as her emotions swelled. Damnit, she couldn’t let herself fall apart now! “Y’know what? I can braid your hair. I may not know a fucking thing about hair care, but it’s just a braid, right?” Violet bent down to pick up the brush. “You can sit down on the chair or the bed and I’ll get it done,” Prisha felt dazed. In the midst of all the chaos, she’d been repressing her emotions for weeks now. Having them all come out at once like this was proving taxing. Shakily, she nodded then sat down on the bed facing the closet, pulling her legs up against her chest and wrapping her right arm around them, her left cradled uselessly by her side. She had to make sure she didn’t jostle it. One more bout of pain might be too much for her to manage. She could hear Violet crawl on top of the mattress and sit behind her. To greet that childish outburst with an offer of help… these Ericson survivors really were something else. In all her years on the road, Prisha had only met a handful of people who would offer a stranger a hand. They tended to be those who’d been denied the same kindness in the past and did not wish that suffering to fall on another. From the burn marks on Violet’s face, Prisha wondered if the same story held true for her. Violet hadn’t moved yet. “Umm, remind me of the first step,” Prisha felt a smile weakly tug at her lips. Of course the art of braiding’s been lost with the apocalypse. Everyone else had the sense to cut their hair short. “You need to separate my hair into three equal sections,” “Right,” She could feel Violet touching her hair, so gently it almost felt like she wasn’t there. Prisha wondered if Violet was worried about hurting her. Considering that the purplish bruising of her arm travelled far above her bandages, it was a valid concern. Violet was certainly gentler than Prisha than she’d been with herself in her efforts to untangle her hair. Violet had stilled again. “Do you need the next step?” “Uh, yeah,” “Start with the section on the left side and cross it over the middle section. Then take the right section and cross it the other way, then bring the middle section over. Then just keep repeating those motions,” “Alright. Here goes nothing,” It was sweet of Violet to be attempting something she was clearly uncomfortable with. Prisha could hear her whisper a cuss as one section of her hair slipped out of her grasp. She was such a fascinating person. Prisha hadn’t thought much of her in the months since their first meeting, but the same traits that had stood out in Violet then were present here as well: tenacity and tenderheartedness. The two qualities tended to be mutually exclusive after the world ended. Either you were soft and died or you were hard and survived. It was exceedingly rare for someone to embody both within themselves. Prisha suddenly realized how quite she was being. She’d been so drawn into the peacefulness of the moment she hadn’t considered that her terseness might be unsettling. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat. “Did you used to have longer hair… before?” “When I was little. My grandma used to put it in braids whenever she took me to church. I hated it,” Violet paused and quickly back tracked. “Not that braids are bad! Just on me. She did them so tight,” It was cute how quickly she’d corrected herself. As if anyone had time to be offended by braiding preferences in the apocalypse. “My mother braided my hair when I was little, but she taught me how to do it myself from a pretty young age. She said that braided hair was a sign of dignity for a woman.” Prisha reached up a hand, fiddling with a stray strand by her face. “I know it would be more practical for me to cut it, but something just stops me each time I consider it. Who knows. Maybe it’s just my way of saying fuck the walkers and fuck this entire shitty world. They can take a lot from me, but how I do my hair is still my own fucking choice. I may not control what I eat or where I sleep or…” She took a shaky breath. “Or the well-being of my own body, but dammnit, I still have my hair,” Damn, way to monologue, Prisha. “That’s sorta badass,” Prisha snorted. “Thanks, I guess. Everything’s going to shit and here I am being Indian Rapunzel,” “It works on you,” “Thanks,” Prisha felt a bit of warmth growing in her chest at the reiterated compliment. Violet didn’t strike her as the type to give compliments lightly. She should know better than to brush her words off. Prisha turned slightly so she could look back at Violet who was earnestly focusing on the braiding process. “You know, I can see why you hated them. The braids, I mean. Your hair looks good short,” “If by ‘good’ you mean ‘looks like some hay that a cow shit on’ then yeah, I guess it looks good,” Prisha scoffed. “No, it’s not like that at all. It looks like… y’know that tall grass that grows beside rivers? The kind with those wheat kernels on the end that you can’t eat? Then autumn comes and they turn this warm, light gold tone and just sway back and forth in the breeze…. Your hair is like that,” Shit, that sounded super gay. She hoped she hadn’t just freaked Violet out. “Your braid is done,” Violet draped it over Prisha’s right shoulder. “Thank you,” Prisha said, fiddling with the tail end of the braid. Not bad at all for a first attempt. “You got it perfect. Not too tight,” She turned around on the bed, leaning against the wall. “Sorry you had to come into the middle of my tantrum. Was there something you needed from me?” “Dishes,” Violet answered abruptly. “Omar wanted me to bring your dishes down if you were done with them,” “Oh, yes, of course. Could you tell him thank you for me? His cooking is seriously amazing. The best I’ve had in years,” “He’ll be happy to hear that,” Violet reached out to grab the small pile of dishes, moving backwards toward the door. “I’ll leave so you can sleep now,” Dang it. She shouldn’t have asked Violet what she came in for. “Alright. And Violet?” “Yeah?” Prisha found herself looking out of the boarded-up window, unable to meet the eyes of the girl who’d just helped her for fear of her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke. “Thank you. For dropping by. It helped,” “Anytime,” With that, Violet was out the door and Prisha was alone again. Well, there wasn’t anything else to be done tonight. Her hair was fixed and the tension in her body had finally dissipated enough that she felt she could sleep. Blowing out the candle by her bedside, Prisha lay down on her bed. Her future was still unclear, a fact that terrified her to her very core. But for the first time since she’d lost the use of her arm, lost her group, lost everything… for a few minutes things had been pleasant. Perhaps all was not lost just yet. She needed to stay practical and be prepared for the worst, but the people at Ericson hadn’t kicked her out yet. Maybe, just maybe they wouldn’t? It was too much to think of right now. With a sigh, Prisha closed her eyes, waiting for sleep to take her. She was glad that Violet had dropped by tonight. She’d given Prisha something she thought she had lost: the comfort of knowing she was not alone.

#twdg violet #twdg #hair braiding #uwuuuu #fluff and angst #fanfic #twdg privet #twdg prisha

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leoninapelliolovesconchitawurst · 4 years

Text

ENGLISH TRANSLATION (by me)

ESC KOMPAKT 23/12/19

https://esc-kompakt.de/advent-der-besten-esc-momente-23-platz-2-the-queen-of-europe/

Advent of the best ESC moments (23): 2nd place - The Queen of… Europe!

Conchita Wurst: Rise Like A Phoenix

[We asked you about your favorite ESC moments last month. Moments that touched you, moments that freaked you out and made you become an ESC fan. Many thanks at this point to everyone who participated and brought a total of 224 different ESC moments to the selection. We have provided and evaluated these with points in the ESC scheme - and now present your favorite 20 moments - a new one every day. See you on Christmas Eve!]

There are moments at the Eurovision Song Contest that burn themselves into the mind of every viewer forever, no matter how and where they are socialized. Conchita Wurst aka Tom Neuwirth created such a moment. A moment about which everyone has an opinion. A moment that moved many in 2014. A moment that has also exceeded its own tolerance limit for some. And “to blame” was basically just a beard on the face of a female figure.

After Dana International narrowly won the song contest as a transexual with her song "Diva" and her message of respect and tolerance, homosexuality seemed omnipresent in the competition. It was nothing special anymore that Drags had participated (such as Denmark 2007 or Slovenia 2002) or performances by clearly gay participants (such as Bosnia 2004 or Romania 2006). The voices of the gay community could not be obtained automatically. The superficial feeling in many western-oriented countries that at least by now most of society respects them has given the way to evaluate the contributions from the gay community fairly compared to the rest of the participants. The idea of tolerance was also often taken up by other participants.

In 2011, the then 23-year-old Tom Neuwirth appeared on the Austrian program “The Great Chance” as his specially created art figure Conchita Wurst. Six years earlier he had already participated in the casting show "Starmania" and reached the final, in which he also performed Anna Vissi's Greek contribution "Everything". As a result, he was part of the boy band "Jetzt Anders!" For a short time, but soon disbanded.

As in his childhood, he felt significant discrimination, which was to be reinforced by his figure of Conchita Wurst, the "woman with a beard". The jury for “The Great Chance” - above all the German rapper Sido - did not always have praising words for Conchita Wurst. In the end, Conchita finished 6th in the final. But the following year Conchita returned to the television stage and applied for "Austria rocks the song contest" as a participant for the ESC in Azerbaijan. With the tolerance anthem "That��s what I am" she succumbed in the superfinal to the lively fun performance "Woki with the Popo" of the Track hittaz with 49 to 51 percent. The Track hittaz were inferior to Nadine Beiler in the previous year with the more interesting “Oida Taunz!”.

But Conchita was remembered and, after Austria missed the final again in 2013, was chosen internally by the ORF officials and supervised with the task of reaching the final. In mid-March the bondesque ballad "Rise like a phoenix" was officially released, including a video that was not completely successful. While the song is classically based on divas like Shirley Bassey, the video lacked this class.

In Austria, Conchita's ESC participation was hotly debated politically and socially. All Austrian record companies also refused to publish “Rise like a phoenix”, so ORF finally published it itself. Despite this commitment by ORF, Conchita’s potential has been massively underestimated until recently. Nobody seemed to seriously believe that they could win the Eurovision Song Contest with such a number.

Headwinds from some other countries were also not long in coming: Polish politician Jarosław Kaczyński saw the “figure of modern Europe” in the art figure (interesting if you think about how Poland was performing on the ESC stage in 2014). In Russia and Belarus, boycotts and a ban on broadcasting were called for, in Belarus there was even talk of a "breeding ground for fornication". To date, Turkish officials have named Conchita's appearance as a reason to no longer participate in the ESC. The Aram Mp3 from Armenia, who was declared favorite in advance, was initially unable to hold back and called Conchita "not normal" and "not suitable". At a press conference on March 20, the singer had spoken of "having to endure" being on a stage with Wurst. He only apologized to Conchita when he realized that he was losing approval for his title "Not alone" among the ESC fans.

Rarely has anyone used the media attention on site as much as Conchita did. The gay community seemed to be reuniting with her funny, but always sublime and tolerance-like demeanor. "I dream of a world where we don’t have to talk about unnecessary things like sexuality, who you love".

An indescribably dignified and fantastically sung performance on the Copenhagen stage did the rest and suddenly, after she reached the final, Conchita Wurst jumped to the first place in the betting odds. The only thing that seemed to the audience of the hall was that Conchita should win the competition. It almost disappeared that the Dutch contribution also indicated another surprise.

When the points were awarded, all the points mentioned were frenetically cheered for Austria, and points for the Russian Tolmachevy Sisters were booed loudly. Kati Bellowitsch, the points spokeswoman from Austria, finally announced the Austrian points with a glued beard, the moderators coined the term "Queen of Austria" early on. After the 34th rating, the moderators finally announced that Conchita, which has since been completely dissolved, actually won the competition.

"This night is dedicated to everyone who believes in a future of peace and freedom. You know who you are - we are unity and we are unstoppable. ”Conchita also impressively used the subsequent award ceremony for her message.

"Rise like a phoenix" became a new hymn in the gay community and at least briefly reached the top 10 in the charts in some countries. The Dutch contribution "Calm after the storm" became commercially more successful and lasted for weeks, sometimes for months in various European charts, which strengthened the impression that Austria won mainly because of the person Conchita Wurst, her message and because of the absolutely perfect appearance. Since this win, Tom Neuwirth's female old ego has become a household name worldwide and has been able to speak and sing before the Federal Chancellery and the EU Parliament.

Tom Neuwirth, who says he is bored with something quickly, took some time and a lot of support to break free from the tight corset of Conchita Wurst. He had the feeling that he could no longer develop creatively and, in his own words, became unhappy. This year he surprised many with the new, much more masculine-looking project character "Wurst" and released the electro pop album "Truth Over Magnitude". At the center of this figure are a lot of creative and fetish-rich costumes, as they were also seen on the PRO 7 program "Queen of Drags".

It will be interesting to see what we can see from Tom Neuwirth alias Conchita Wurst. Conchita Wurst will remain an important and very emotional ESC moment forever.

#conchitawurst #wurst #tomneuwirth #artist #singer #escwinner #esc2014 #performer #celebrity #lgbt #translation

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gaycrouton · 5 years

Text

Sensual

Words of Lust 19/27 [Scully and Mulder play a drunken game in the middle of a storm.]

Sensual : (adjective) of or arousing gratification of the senses and physical, especially sexual, pleasure.

For the past few weeks, they had fallen into a routine that he loved. On Friday, he and Scully would leave the office, grab take out for dinner, usually accompanied by a six pack of Shiner, and go to his apartment to watch a movie. It was a newfound familiarity and comfort he hadn’t experienced in years, hell, maybe ever. On top of that, he got to spend hours of freetime with Dana Katherine Scully, something he would do anything for,

This was their ninth week in a row, and they were still going strong. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face as he sat there with sesame chicken and crab rangoons littering his coffee table, Scully sitting next to him on her third beer, and When Harry Met Sally , her choice, playing on the TV. The first few times he was worried that she was just coming over out of obligation, solely because he asked. It was probably about four weeks in when on one random Tuesday she tapped him on the shoulder and asked, “Mulder, can I pick the movie this week? Not that I don’t love the space theme we’ve been having. I just want to kick it up.” Ecstatic barely covered his feeling. She looked forward to their nights together just as much as he did. That week they ended up watching The Silence of the Lambs, and they’d been alternating ever since.

“What are you staring at?” Scully chuckled, self consciously wiping her face of food that wasn’t there. He hadn’t realized his attention had shifted from the movie to her and he had just been staring.

“I thought I saw a fly.” Wow, good one.

“Oh really? Directly on my face, not flying around?” she teased with a knowing smirk. As he opened his mouth to respond, an earth shattering crash of thunder and bolt of lightning struck, practically making the apartment shake. She jumped with a gasp and grabbed his arm like a vice, only to instantly pull away with an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry.”

Apparently a severe thunderstorm was plaguing the D.C. area tonight. He asked if she was still down with having their movie night and she quickly agreed. It had been pretty tame when they came over, but as the movie progressed, so did the storm. Mulder had seen her look in the face of danger, take down inhumane criminals, fight the most terrifying monsters, but, when it came down to it, Scully was afraid of thunderstorms. While he knew she wanted to hang out tonight, he knew a big aspect of it was because she didn’t want to be alone. “Don’t be sorry, Scully. Thunderstorms are nature’s jumpscare.”

She smiled at him and that was the last thing he saw before they were plunged into darkness, another round of thunder and lighting taking the power with it. At the same time he was registering what just happened, he felt Scully’s small hand reach out to him in the darkness, grabbing his arm. “Well, this puts a damper on movie night,” he joked, trying to lessen her fear.

She laughed indulgently, but moved her hand down so she could hold his hand, which he immediately reciprocated. “Do you have a flashlights or any candles?” she asked. Her tone was calm, but the pitch of her voice didn’t hide her fear.

“Yeah, I think I have some candles I got for Christmas in the closet.” He stood up, taking her with him as he awkwardly felt his way to the hallway closet, using the walls as his guide, only stopping when he felt the knob.

“Someone bought you candles for Christmas?” her voice rang out in the darkness as he grabbed the candles awkwardly, nudging her to grab some with her free hand.

“A few someones actually, I guess I look like a candle type of guy,” he laughed, closing the closet door and blindly leading them to the kitchen for the lighter.

“Oh yeah, didn’t I ever tell you? Before I knew about your videotape collection, I thought you came home and lit seasonally-accurate candles, watching to make sure they burned evenly,” she teased as her face was illuminated by the flame.

He gave her a little mock-gasp before feigning horror, “Scully, were you surveilling me?” She laughed at him and let go of his hand as he worked on the fifth candle, a steady glow lighting the area. She walked around the kitchen curiously before stopping in front of the refrigerator, standing on her tiptoes to retrieve a bottle from the top surface.

Attempting to retrieve a bottle. He saw her struggling and stood behind her, easily reaching above her head to grab the old bottle of Jack Daniels before handing it to her curious hands. “Mulder, I thought you didn’t drink?”

“I always thought it would be wise to keep a bottle if I ever wanted to indulge, or for special circumstances,” he told her. Picking up some of the candles and moving them to the coffee table.

She followed suit with the rest, the bottle still tucked under her arm. When all the candles were arranged in the living room so it was nicely lit she turned to him with a shy demeanor, “Hey, is it okay if I stay here for tonight, with the storm and all?” He thought it was cute she even had to ask.

“I would genuinely be offended if you didn’t,” he replied honestly. He took a seat on the couch as she placed herself on the floor at the end of the coffee table, adjacently facing him.

“Thanks,” she sighed with an appreciative smile.

“Do you have specific plans in mind, Agent Scully?” he asked, nodding to the bottle now placed in front of her.

“Oh,” she blushed a little bit, “Feel free to say no, but I was curious if you’d be down with drinking and playing a game or something?” she asked nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

A chance to see Scully drunk? Abso-fucking-lutely. “I’m in. Do you have any specific game in mind?”

She paused for a moment, tapping her finger against her lips in thought as he was captivated by the motion. “It’s not a drinking game, but do you want to periodically take shots and just ask each other questions? Kinda like twenty questions, but with no goal?” He was equal parts excited and nervous. He wanted to learn more about Scully, but he was nervous what she might ask.

“So, basically, drink and have a conversation?” he joked.

She giggled as she opened the top of the bottle, bringing out two shot glasses he hadn’t even seen her grab. Sneaky. It also amused him that she obviously knew he’d say yes to her.

“Essentially, yes,” she drew out, pouring a shot for each of them.

“Are there any rules?”

“Hmm, want to say, we each get twenty questions, you can only pass on two, and no holds barred,” passing one of the shots over to him as she said this.

The no holds barred part intimidated him a bit, but he was curious what she had in mind. “Sounds good to me,” he replied, lifting his glass up in a cheers motion. She clinked her glass against his and they threw their head back, letting the amber liquid coat their throats.

He didn’t feel the need to put on a bravado in front of Scully, they were far passed that, so he felt no shame as he coughed and let his face contort into unbridled disgust. He heard a melodic chuckle erupt in response and looked over to see that she had taken it like a champ, no surprise. “You can go first since your in pain,” she offered kindly.

He took a swig of his beer to recover as he mused. “Why are you afraid of thunderstorms?”

She looked surprised that was his first question, but answered nonetheless, “I don’t really know. It’s totally irrational. I understand what they are, I just don’t like the mixture of how chaotic and power, and it’s so loud.” Made sense, he nodded and she took that as a sign to take her turn.“Excluding aliens, you get the opportunity to expose the undeniable truth behind one cryptid. What one do you choose?” she asked, taking the final swig of her last beer.

“Hmm,” he pondered, “Either Bigfoot or Nessie, probably Nessie.”

“Why,” she asked.

“Does that count as two questions?,” he teased.

“Nope,” she sang with a cocky grin.

“I’d probably choose The Loch Ness because it’s one that people are most familiar with, and if they believe that it could lead to a wider acceptance of the unexplained. Bigfoot is a little too humanistic, a little too in the realm of comfort.” She seemed to appreciate his answer so he continued, “What are your favorite three qualities of yourself? Can be emotional, physical, mental, anything.”

She cocked her head to the side and pouted her lip a bit in thought, glancing into the bottle as if the amber liquid would give her an answer. “Umm,” she verbalized before resorting back to silence for a while. Maybe thirty seconds passed and she was still thinking.

“Is this seriously a hard question for you? I could name ten of my favorite qualities about you right now,” he laughed.

He could see the faint blush dust her cheeks even through the candle light as she struggled to answer, “Umm, I’ll do one of each, I think it’ll be easier. Emotionally, I like my passion. Mentally, I’m proud of my intelligence. Physically, uhh,” she paused for a moment to think and it honestly dumbfounded him. She could list off anything and she’d be right, she was perfect. “Uh, I like my freckles.”

“Good choice, but an interesting one.”

She laughed lightly to dispel her self-consciousness, “Everyone in my family has them. I like the solidarity.” He hadn’t realized that, but it made a lot of sense. “My turn. You said you could name ten, do it.”

Oh shit. This was dangerous territory and he knew it. “Only ten?” he replied. She tried to repress a smile and nodded. “Not to copy you, but your passion, your intelligence, and your freckles also are on my list. Your loyalty, your smile, your rationality, your eyes, your commitment, your entire being, and your strength are, in no particular order, a few of my favorite qualities.” It made him happy to see that she was flattered by his words, having a hard time meeting his eyes.

“I appreciate that. I don’t know if ‘entire being’ counts as a quality though,” she reminded, easing the charge in the room.

“There were a lot of things I didn’t want to miss and I felt like that was all-encompassing,” he answered honestly. There isn’t enough time in the world to list off everything I love about you. Before starting any further, he poured two more shots out, taking them just like they had before. Scully giggled a little more after this shot and he was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling tipsy.

“What’s the most daring thing you’ve ever done? Not including anything work related?” he asked after finishing off his own beer.

Unlike the last question, she knew this one immediately. After the question left his lips she giggled some more and put her hands in her face temporarily. If it got this reaction, he was eager to hear. “Okay, so promise not to judge me. When I was in high school, I had a crush on my English teacher, he was maybe twenty seven while I was sixteen, and I just wanted his attention. So, one day I went to school dressed as an actual catholic school girl. The white button up, the lewdly short skirt, the black thigh highs, the whole nine yards.”

Mulder gulped and shifted a little in his seat at the thought of a young Scully dressed so scandalously, the fact she did that was arousing enough, the mental image was almost too much. “So what happened?” he pried.

“I stayed after class, you know, asking for ‘extra help’ even though I had an A in the class. He wouldn’t even look at me, and when he did it was only for a few seconds,” she exclaimed. Mulder couldn’t blame the guy, Scully was trying to kill the man.

“He probably didn’t want to be caught sporting a massive hard on in the middle of a high school,” he cried, making her laugh.

“Fair enough, but little sixteen year old me was so pissed,” she proclaimed, as if still cursing that teacher. “What about you? Have you ever had any inappropriate crushes?” his inappropriate crush asked obliviously.

“Um-,” he paused. He couldn’t exactly say his partner, even if it was the truth. “I would sometimes have crushes on my friends’ sisters. Which is just like a no-go in the bro code.” Not a lie, not incriminating. “What was the last thing you ever did on a date?” He almost regretted the question as soon as it left his lips, thoughts of Jerse and that whole escapade coming into memory. Luckily, Scully also decided to ignore that. He supposed almost being killed nullified considering the evening a date.

“I actually haven’t been on a real date in years. Maybe back in 1993, around when we were first assigned together. I was just on a date with a random guy I met at Quantico. It wasn’t very good. We went to Olive Garden and then went to his place and had mediocre sex.” He was pleased that sex was becoming a comfortable, frequent topic right now and he honestly hoped it would continue.

“Mediocre how?”

“If I don’t cum, it’s mediocre,” she sighed dramatically, pouring another round for them. He was already feeling tipsy and a small part of him was worried she was going too fast for her tiny stature, but she was a doctor so he trusted her judgement. They threw their head back, and as he was trying to recover, no aid of beer to wash it down, she laid a big one on him, “What kind of porn do you like?”

“What?” he repeated, positive he must have misheard her.

“I know about all your tapes. What type is your favorite? Oral? Dominance? Gay? Big bust? C-” He didn’t know how long she would have been able to keep going, but knowing Scully knew all the different porn categories was something he needed to keep in mind.

“I like the longer ones, where the relationship is established. I know you’re going to roll your eyes at me, but I like the ones where it looks like they care,” he confessed. In reality, the answer would have been ‘The ones closest to our relationship or ones where the woman slightly resembles you.’

“N-no! I think that’s nice, don’t be shy,” she hiccuped. She was slightly slurring, just a little bit, and she wasn’t as balanced as she used to be. He was probably fairing the same, never really drinking and having a low tolerance.

Since she had asked him a bold question, he decided to reciprocate. It didn’t make it any less jarring to feel these words come out of his mouth in her presence, “Do you use toys when you masturbate? If so what’s your favorite?”

Her eyebrows raised a bit, but so did the corners of her lips. “I do yes,” she had barely answered the question and he could feel his penis stirring at her words. “I have this one vibrator and its pink. It’s a smooth silicone, and it’s phallic shaped with a curve. I like that I can use it both internally and externally,” she said, being so generous as to use size indications with her hands. He hadn’t asked how she used it, but he was eternally grateful for this new information.

Scully propped her head up with the palm of her hand, elbow resting lazily on the table. He thought she may have to take some time to formulate a question, but she was ready to go. “When you’re having sex, do the women say your name?”

His brow cocked up as he swallowed, glancing down at her curiosity-riddled face. He didn’t really know why she wanted to know such a random thing. “Well, they do when I’m doing a good job. So, yes,” he teased with a wink.

She rolled her eyes and elaborated, “Noooo, I mean do they call you Fox, or do they moan ‘ ah Mulder ’ at you?” During her explanation she gave a little example of how one might moan ‘Mulder,’ pitching her voice up and making it breathy as she cried his name, her face contorting in mock pleasure. It was unbelievably hot. She stared at him expectantly as he shifted in his seat to hide his body’s reaction to her little display, coy smirk on her face.

He cleared his throat a bit before answering, “Oh, the call me Fox, but I still hate it, even if it’s being said in the throes of passion.”

She nodded appreciatively at his answer, fingering the rim of her empty glass. “Good to know,” she murmured. Her answer was equal parts suggestive and ambiguous. Before he could fully decipher her words she was motioning to him, “Your turn.”

“Favorite position?” he asked.

“I’m not picky, I like quite a few, but I’ve personally had a lot of success on top,” she shrugged with a self-satisfactory smile. He’d been hard for a while now, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep himself in check. Especially imagining Scully on top, her breasts bouncing up and down from the exertion of riding him, the dedication he was sure she would have to making sure they both got off.

He must have lost himself in thought a little bit, because he noticed she was just smiling at him expectantly. He took a moment to prepare two more shots before they went further, wanting a bit more liquid courage. It went down easier than expected, unlike her next question.

Scully drunkenly put a hand on the couch, sloppily pulling herself up so she was reclining on the couch arm opposite of him. He normally would have reached out to help her, but in his drunken state, he wouldn’t have been much use. She situated herself a little bit, trying to sit up straight and wiping her hair away from her face with his palms. He realized she was about to lay a big one on him and straightened up a bit himself. Looking him dead in the eye, she started with, “Is it okay if I ask a possible two-part question?”

“Possible two-part question?” He repeated.

“Well the answer to the first will determine if the second is necessary,” she clarified. He simply nodded and motioned for her to continue, which she did hesitantly, “Mulder, do you think I’m attractive?”

Her question took him off guard. How could she not know? He mentally flashbacked through the past seven years of their partnership; the years of trying to catch second glimpses of her, the years of hiding erections from her that she caused, years of casual flirtations, and she didn’t realize he adored her? She was looking at him with wide, vulnerable eyes that broke his heart. “Of course I do, Scully. You’re easily the most attractive woman I’ve ever met. It’s honestly distracting.”

A brief smile graced her lips before she got serious again, leaning forward a little bit. “Why haven’t you tried to have sex with me?” It felt like all the air left his lungs. Of all the follow up questions, he wasn’t expecting that. He tried to think of an answer in his inebriated state, but he kept getting distracted by her questioning eyes and pouting lips.

“I-I never thought you would want to, I figured you saw me as untouchable since I’m your partner. I also didn’t think you found me attractive,” he muttered honestly.

The shock he had felt a moment ago had transferred to her, her jaw dropping open in surprise. “You don’t think I find you attractive?”

He shrugged shyly, “Well, you’ve never expressed interest.”

“Mulder, I feel like if I expressed anymore interest, you’d walk into the office with me bent over your desk waiting,” she proclaimed. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, imagining what it’d be like walking into the office, Scully precariously perched over the desk they had spent years across, her crotch wet and waiting just for him, looking over her shoulder at him with a coy smile.

“You want to have sex with me?” he asked almost incredulously.

A bright flush had painted her face, a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, maybe something more. “Yes,” it was barely audible coming out as a gentle whisper. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

“I want to make love to you,” he clarified. A rare toothy smile erupted on Scully’s face and he couldn’t help but lean in closer to her, happy when she did the same. Their lips met together in shy exploration. She started smiling at the first touch of contact, making deepening the kiss a little hard. They did anyhow though, tongues sliding wetly over each other in exploration. She tasted like booze and that hint of Scully he could never recreate.

She placed her hands drunkenly around his neck and pulled herself closer to him, effectively laying on top of his reclining torso, pressing his back into the couch. She was so warm and comfortable. He ran his hand up her spine and reveled in the way she leaned into his touch. Eventually, they pulled back and he got to enjoy what a thoroughly-kissed Scully looked like. She was panting a little, her hair was mussed, and her lips were swollen. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, as if she was trying to enjoy the lingering taste of him. His erection was now screaming with need, even though this was all he wanted, the rational side of him was still there. “Scully, we can’t do this right now. I want the first time I’m with you to be when we’re sober.”

She dramatically sighed and he thought she was going to argue, but she conceded, “You’re right.” She pouted at him, her gaze flicking down to his tenting pants. “But what are you going to do about that?” she asked, teasingly running a finger along his bulge.

He laughed but tried to concave his hips instead of thrusting at her. “Scully, I’ve been your partner for years. I’m an expert at willing boners away,” he reassured.

“So we can’t touch each other while we’re drunk?” she reiterated.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop,” he groaned, god she was beautiful.

She was silent for a moment, lost in a train of thought. Her eyes lit up and she looked at him excitedly. “What if we just- touched ourselves?” she offered, shrugging and acting like this was the most rational solution she’d ever come up with.

He knew he was a little young to have a heart attack, but honestly he was scared it was going to happen tonight. Scully, his Scully, partner of seven years, sweet catholic, was suggesting they touch themselves in front of each other. “Like, mutual masturbation?” he asked for clarification, voice higher than normal.

“Exactly, mutual masturbation,” she cooed, starting to unbutton the top of her blouse. His eyes followed her movements, deft and elegant, lacking the clumsiness normally associated with alcohol. He was pretty sure he was blushing. The thought of jacking off less than a foot away from Scully seemed almost taboo.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

She got to the last button and let her top fall open, revealing a black, lacy bra. She let the shirt fall down her shoulders gracefully, discarding it on the floor beneath them. She scooted back a bit so that he was resting on one arm of the couch while she was on the other. Her hands were poised behind her back as she sang, “Only if you’re interested.” His eyes were constantly dancing back down to her chest, waiting for her to take away the black scrap of fabric. It became obvious she wasn’t going to remove it unless he answered. He internally chuckled at her statement. He was far more than interested.

Instead of verbally answering, he started to undo the buttons on his own shirt, discarding it on top of her own. His self-consciousness started to fade when he saw her eyes appreciatively take in his exposed chest, tracing ever muscle and curve with her gaze. She looked back up at him with gratitude and unhooked her bra, letting it fall forward to reveal two beautiful breasts. He took a sharp intake of breath between his teeth and his cock ached to be touched.

“Scully, you’re so gorgeous,” he praised. She leaned her bare back on the arm of his couch, the same couch he had spent countless hours fantasizing about her on. She continued to look at him as she raised her hands to play with her breasts, grabbing them and pushing them together before pinching her own nipples.

His eyes practically fluttered to the back of his head and he audibly groaned, earning a sensual snicker from Scully, who was moving her hands down her sides until she was easing her pants and underwear down her legs, adding to the pile. He quickly did the same, wanting to keep her comfortable in her state of undress by providing his own. When he sat back down, his dick was bobbing prominently in the air, begging for attention. She took it in with hungry eyes before returning his compliment in a raspy voice, “So are you.”

She let her thighs part, revealing her pink, glistening lips, practically dripping from wetness. He caused that. The sight was too much and he finally gave over to pleasure, taking his length in his firm hand, stroking up in down in exploration, eyes never leaving her body. She grunted when she saw this, “God Mulder, you have no idea how much that turns me on.”

She let her hand slide down her stomach, passed her pubic hair, to her arousal, parting her lips playfully before swirling around her clit, letting her head drop back with a hearty moan. Scully was touching herself right in front of him, for him, because of him, on his couch. For a second he was worried that he had died and gone to heaven but, if this is what it was like, he didn’t even care. Her chest had flushed red and, yet again, he didn’t know if it was because she was shy or simply from arousal. She was watching his hand intently as she continued playing with herself, her wetness audible in the room.

The candle lighting, though done for necessity, was now highly sexual. The light of the flames danced on her porcelain skin, a dance as natural and primal as her hand’s against her body. He reached down and, with his other hands, cupped his heavy balls, the sensation making him thrust off the couch slightly, desperate for friction. Scully must have needed more too, because she spread her knees farther, throwing one over the back of the couch as she reclined further into the couch, finger fucking herself vigorously, her elegant fingers dipping deep inside herself, curling up to hit the places she knew so well. She was now spread absolutely eagle in front of him, hiding nothing.

He didn’t think he had ever experienced such a high level of eroticism before in his life. It felt like every nerve ending in his body was on fire, he could feel his heart beating in his erection. He was already stimulated enough when she became increasingly vocal, an audible aphrodisiac. One hand was ravishing her clit while the other groped her breasts. She was whining and panting, high pitched, breathy, and painfully feminine. Her hips almost constantly undulating, gyrating into her hand. All the while her eyes were dilated and focused on his body, watching his hand pump so fast it was disappearing and his chest heave lungfuls of air.

It was hard to resist not throwing his head back in pleasure, he didn’t want to miss any part of this display of personal intimacy. How many times did she go home and lay on her bed doing exactly this? All he wanted to was throw himself to the otherside of the couch and bury himself inside her, hearing those keening sounds in his ear as he makes her cum, thrusting into her tightness with reckless abandon. “I want you so bad, I can’t wait for us to finally be together,” he panted out, his forearm aching with strain from him relentless strokes.

“I want you too, we’ll have each other so soon,” she reassured, her voice coming out like a strained cry. He could see a light sheen of sweat starting to cover her body at the same time he noticed it on his.

Her hand started to move faster and faster and he knew she was chasing her orgasm. She started to tell him she was about to cum, but the orgasm took over. “Muld-ah!” Her body was nearly convulsing, her hips thrusting desperately against her hand which was going doing everything it could to stimulate every need of hers. Her mouth was open as she cried out variations of his name and the lords, spine arching and concaving like a rhythm.

His hand when as fast as it could as his grip tightened. It took only a few seconds before he was following her into ecstasy. “Ugh-Scully,” he cried out as he bucked into his hand, milking himself for everything he had. Hot wet spurts of semen covered his abdomen, but all he could focus on was the fact seeing him come sent her spiraling into a second orgasm. Her legs clenched around her hand as she moved her body, as if making love to the air.

When they were done, the only sounds in the room were their frantic breaths evening out. He leaned down and grabbed both of their shirts, wiping himself off with his own as he handed hers off so she could do the same. “Thanks,” she sighed appreciatively with a sated, goofy smile he was sure matched his own.

“You’re a genius, you know that right?” he commended.

“Just wait until you get the full experience,” she teased with a wink.

#msr #msr smut #msr fanfiction #dana scully #fox mulder #mulder and scully #x files fanfic #xf fanfiction #gaycrouton #onlytheinevitable #my fanfiction #words of lust

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zinecuntroll · 6 years

Text

3 decades of Queer Women making Herstory through Music

Written for Pink Washed Zine issue #3

by Raquel Silva aka Raquel Smith-Cave

I turned 30 this year, more precisely last August and it’s also been 12 years since I had my first girlfriend. When I started thinking about my queerness more seriously back in 2005/2006 I quickly realized how it wasn’t that usual for girls to be fascinated by Linda Perry in boxer shorts and combat boots like I was at 5 years old. My mom says 4 Non Blondes “What’s up” was my favorite song back then and she even bought the CD so I could listen to it on repeat and not just wait for the video to magically appear on the TV. Thanks Ma!

Through my teenage years I had “Baby Can I Hold You” by Tracy Chapman constantly playing in my head. Mind you, I always have a song in my mind and I burst into singing at the most unexpected times, it’s mostly an unconscious act which can be embarrassing in front of people who don’t know me well. Honestly I don’t care much, it’s just a part of my nature and if I’m not murmuring or humming some melody it usually means there’s something wrong. So at around 15/16 I remember starting to sing the chorus for “But you can say baby…” out of nowhere in school breaks or while walking home. This happened constantly and exactly why my brain was stuck with this melody was a complete mystery to me. Maybe I heard it in passing or on the radio…? I could never find the answer but I did buy Tracy’s self-titled vinyl this year during Record Store Day and discovered it was released exactly 30 years ago. It’s a precious record, her voice is warm and familiar and her guitar is so soothing to the soul. I think I finally answered my teenage self on all that musical haunting.

Cássia Eller is a Brazilian artist who made the 90s a really wholesome, magical, golden time for every lesbian in love with husky voices. Her hit song “Malandragem” was part of this series called Malhação but I only found out she was the mystical singer behind that iconic childhood tune years after listening to it on the show. She tragically died in 2001 and even after that she still created major impact in society, when her longtime girlfriend won custody of their son, after battling against Cássia’s father who had never cared about his daughter until money was involved. Cássia was a shy person who became a complete lion on stage. Humble and almost too pure to handle the hype. She just wanted to sing to people and exorcise her demons while making others happy. Which she did and so much more. Her legacy is tremendous, as it still resonates with so many of us today and the world hasn’t really witnessed anyone quite as ingenious as her ever since.

It’s 2007 and I’m watching a live concert in a Portuguese music festival on TV featuring a wild ass singer with the screaming voice of my wildest grrrl dreams. It’s The Gossip! And Beth Ditto is rolling around the stage, singing her lungs out in front of a pretty chill crowd. I wanted to BE THERE. I probably discovered Gossip’s music through CSS who I was obsessed with at the time or probably from watching The L Word. The truth is: the more intrigued I was by the words of this fat, dyke, goddess the more comfortable I felt about my own identity. I was fat for most of my childhood and got bullied for it on a regular basis, just part of being in an all-girls catholic school life I guess. At 13 someone called me “Fufa” which is basically “Dyke” in Portuguese and it was the most traumatic experience ever. Years later I wish I could have thanked the girl who bullied me out of a closet I wasn’t even aware I was in. I don’t believe I was ever in the closet though. Honestly, falling in love with a girl was just as natural as having crushes on boys. It was just another question I had finally found an answer for. Beth Ditto’s pride in her queerness and blatant attraction to butch people while being a proud femme, fat, dyke made me feel represented in a way I hadn’t seen myself before and ok with my own desires. Ditto!

The first glance of The L Word I watched I didn’t really enjoyed. The image was dark and the plot seemed so tragic. It was Jenny somewhere in the first season. After one year I finally watched the whole 2 or 3 seasons that were out by then. Tegan and Sara play in one episode and are featured in the soundtrack, which I still go back to sometimes to remember really great tunes. What a blessing to have Tegan and Sara guide you through your first acid trip and “coming out of that closet” am I right Dana? (RIP) My love affair with Canadian people started right there with Tegan’s goofiness and Sara’s witty remarks. By 2007 “The Con” came out and became a staple to the LBGTQ+ community. So much so that the band released a special covers album last year, with many queer artists recreating those magnificent songs. In the records that followed their sound was purposefully re directed to more pop melodies which I couldn’t relate to anymore. They did make good use of their huge platform by launching the Tegan and Sara foundation, which fights for LGBTQ girls and women all over the world with the help of some amazing queer people.

The other tiny Canadian who owns my heart is Ellen Page. Ever since Juno, my gaydar was just screaming out loud in every direction possible and I’m so happy that she is now able to be herself freely. Just like Juno, my musical top 3 included Patti Smith and Iggy Pop… but not The Runaways. For me it’s actually Nick Cave. I never gave too much attention to The Runaways, though I knew about Joan Jett and her extremely queer badass persona from being a teenager obsessed with punk rock and riot grrrl herstory. Until Kristen Stewart got cast to play Joan for The Runaways movie and I finally listened to their 70s records. I fell in love with Kristen and Dakota’s version of “Dead End Justice” as well as the original. Gaystew was born to play that part. Just last week I saw Bad Reputation, a documentary about Joan’s life with lots of awesome people speaking about how incredible she is, as both a pioneer for women in rock’n roll and an advocate for human and animal rights. At 60 she’s still rocking the fuck out of leather pants, inspiring kids to start bands, making everyone smitten by her confidence and flipping the finger to the all the hypocritical social definitions of gender, sex and music.

It’s really difficult to write about Janelle Monáe. Not because I don’t have words but mostly because I have too many. Janelle caught my eye and ears with “Tightrope” where she’s prancing around wearing her uniform, as she proudly used to talk about her suit, an homage to her working class parents and Kansas City upbringing. I saw her live at the end of 2010, at a winter festival, where all my other friends went on to watch Sting’s daughter I Blame Coco and I stood front row waiting for Janelle. It was life changing. She danced, jumped, screamed and even painted something into a blank canvas throughout the whole set. Her band was impeccably orchestrated and the show was extremely cinematic, since many of Janelle’s inspirations are from sci-fi movies. Her music is layered and complex just like her personality. Over the years she has been extremely mysterious, one of the things I appreciated the most about her. This year that changed. After much speculation in the media, she said in an interview she’s pansexual, as someone who has had relationships with men and women, that’s how she identifies more comfortably. Above all she’s an artist with a very specific vision and talent, carving the path for Afrofuturism; to create space for black people but especially queer POC to conquer over the systematic racism, lack of opportunities and prejudice in our society. Her new record “Dirty Computer” is the materialization of that evolution, the most “Janelle” album ever. Covering everything from sexual freedom to political issues while using a pop funky beat. Reminiscing one of her heroes, Prince, who became a friend and mentor before passing away in 2016. And all I want for 2019 is to be in the same room as Janelle and take on another voyage dans la lune with all the other androids.

Annie Clark has also played around with the idea of being an alien or a cyborg, especially on her self-titled album from 2014. That’s when I saw her live for the time and I had to give into my friend’s obsession with her music. Last year St. Vincent released “Masseduction”, an almost perfect record, in my opinion. The song with the same title is most definitely an anthem for our generation “I can’t turn off what turns me on…” and after a long relationship with model/actress Cara Delevingne or that summer fling with Kristen Stewart, it was clear, Annie is queer. (Pun so intended) While songs like “New York” or “Los Ageless” can be associated to both of those relationships, Annie’s talent as an exquisite guitar player, fearless innovative sounds and unique live shows, have made her the intergalactic rock Goddess of our queer dreams.

Widely inspired by Annie Clark is my next musical Queeroe. Mackenzie Scott aka Torres. There’s something about debut albums that I really love and Torres self-titled LP from 2013 is definitely in my top favorites list. It’s really fucking sad music with raw emotion, as you can hear in “Honey”, “Jealousy and I” or “When Winter’s over”. Her second album “Sprinter” showed a very exciting evolution in her sound but it’s “Three Futures” from 2017 that encapsulates Mackenzie’s desire towards experimenting with her sexuality in a more explicit way. As seen in the video for the first single where she takes on gender roles as both feminine and masculine characters who are living the dreadful “American Dream”. Plus the cover picture for that record is her staring at a semi naked woman on a pole, marking 2017 as very gay year for music.

Laura Jane Grace’s voice first made waves through my ears because of the collab Against Me! did with Tegan Quin back in 2007 for the single “Borne On The FM Waves Of The Heart”. The song didn’t stick to me that long and although I had heard Against Me! was my kind of band I never took the time to really listen to them. Until 2014, when “Transgender Dysphoria Blues” was released and it rapidly became one of the most important records of my life. I started watching many interviews with Laura Jane about the struggles of coming out as a trans woman in this fucked up world, specifically while being part of the punk scene, where there’s not much space for anything other than toxic masculinity. I related to Laura’s journey and with every single lyrics on “True trans soul rebel” since it felt like the most authentic punk anthem I had heard in a while. I went to their first ever gig in Portugal in 2015 and screamed as much as I could surrounded by my family of misfits, all wearing black and their heart tattoos on their sleeves. I dug into Against Me! discography but other than the single “I was a teenage anarchist” which I already knew, nothing got me hooked as much as “Transgender Dysphoria Blues” did. Laura Jane’s name is very much appropriate, for her Grace is felt through her screams as much as her written words, something I found fascinating while reading her auto biography: “Tranny: Confessions of Punk Rock's Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout”. I loved every page of it, with original diary pieces, she takes us on a wild precious ride from her childhood and family issues to all the drama in the music industry or the tribulations of managing a band in this time and age. There’s really nothing more punk rock than being yourself and Laura Jane does it with so much effortless coolness and Grace.

I tried not to listen to Courtney Barnett for months. I had seen the hype around her but didn’t feel quite ready to embark in that journey and my queers did I regret it… She played at Primavera Sound Porto in 2015 and I started listening to her on loop only weeks after that. The heartbreaking part is that I was also at that festival. The good part is that she came back in 2016 to another festival in Lisbon and I was there just for her (and Father John Misty). Which felt like the stars had aligned with my musical desires. She’s unapologetically herself but not in the way that you would say so about Cardi B for example. She’s wickedly smart with her words and unexpectedly brutal with her chords, right before she opens her mouth she looks like the sweetest person you will ever meet and after you are transported to her own island, full of genius puns, sarcastic inputs about daily life or the state of the world. My favorite verse is from “Pedestrian at best” and I almost got it tattooed… “Give me all your money and I’ll make some origami honey”. Which to me roughly translates to: Fuck Capitalism! She’s also very open about her long term relationship with her wife and fellow musician Jen Cloher, making them the ultimate indie rock’s queer power couple.

2016 was the darkest year of my life. I stopped listening to music for months, stopped sleeping and my panic attacks would strike me even if I was in the middle of a busy street. It was scary to lose myself in such dark thoughts but then one day I listened to Shura’s song “Too shy” and felt like a little bit of me was alive again. Her debut album “Nothing’s real” came out around that time and her lyrics for the title song were exactly what I felt through my depression. In this song she is writing about her own experience with a panic attack that makes you feel like dying. And they do. “Too Shy” is a beautiful tune about unrequited love because you are simply too fucking shy to ever go for it and ask your crush on a date. Being shy and anxious almost always go hand in hand, as an awkward, quiet, weird introvert myself, discovering Shura’s songs and story gave me hope and made me gather the lost pieces of my own identity, leaving all the pain, shame and constant anxiety behind. Music really is medicine for the soul.

Julien Baker also has one of the best debut albums I’ve ever heard. Personally, it’s very special because it marks the beginning of my current relationship, as my girlfriend surprised me with Julien’s “Sprained Ankle” vinyl just weeks after we started dating. That vinyl did not leave my record player for the last months of 2016 and whenever I listen to it now, I am instantly transported to that moment in time. I was finally getting back on my feet and everything was falling into place, Julien’s gigantic voice echoed my natural melancholy, embracing my demons with a new found strength. I’ve seen her twice, both times a very out of body experience and had the pleasure to let her know how much her music has helped me. We hugged, talked and she even has the zine I make (CuntRoll) in her living room table because she likes it so much. She is someone I could definitely see myself hanging out in my group of friends and that’s what I love the most about this new generation of artists, who aren’t trying to be something they’re not for the sake of money or exposure. They embrace who they are and let the world decide if they wanna take it or leave it. And that’s exactly what we need right now, to accept and embrace people for who they are and the art they make. So we can all to the same in our own lives.

“Yeah I’ve got it I’m a man now…” are the verses that got stuck with me for weeks after listening to Christine and The Queens single “iT”. Yes, the capital T is on purpose as it represents testosterone, the hormone used by many Trans AFAB people to start the process of becoming more themselves. This androgynous handsome French creature original name is Heloise and since her worldwide success with her first record “Chaleur Humaine” she has shredded so many stereotypes through her music, her dancing and her style. I hate comparing artists but some people call her “ the French Michael Jackson” for a reason. My chin dropped while watching her cover for Beyonce’s “Sorry” which she transformed into her own song like it’s nobody’s business (please go watch it asap). This year she blessed as with her second LP just called “Chris” inviting the world to be a little bit closer to her. Chris is her nickname and presents us with a new image for Heloise, embracing her masculine vibe more than ever before, with short hair, loose clothing and talking proudly about queer issues in many interviews. The video for the single “5 dollars” is the epitome of gender fucking and the reason why I am even gayer now tbh. (You should watch that also!) The future is genderqueer.

I stayed away from the hype of “Girls like Girls” back in 2015 because I’m mostly suspicious of pop artists using gay stories to go with the trend of pink washing, ie Katy Perry “I kissed a girl” is a fucking jam but also really fucking problematic, coming from a cis het white female who has no idea the struggles of being queer. Hayley Kiyoko is most definitely not one of those artists though, as she has slowly but certainly become the Lesbian Jesus we’ve all been praying for. With “Curious” she let us know there’s a new fucking boss in town and she’s so fucking gay. What a time to be alive, 20gayteen is real and we are here to witness it all. Hayley’s not the greatest singer in the world, but she uses the best of her skills to give voice to all the kids who struggled with feeling alienated because they couldn’t fit in anywhere. She creates videos which are more like short stories, where she not only acts, but also writes and directs with her own team, never compromising her vision to tell the stories she wants to tell. Stories that resonate with so many queer people and we all know how important representation is, especially coming from an authentic source. To have such a person in the mainstream is what Tegan and Sara were thriving for a few years ago but the result wasn’t very genuine, something that doesn’t happen with Hayley’s songs. Her album “Expectations” doesn’t have big hits, other than “Feelings and “Curious” but it’s the debut album of someone with a huge potential and vision to take up the space for ourselves to tell our own stories and no one else.

Linn Da Quebrada is the musical Goddess of the moment. Eloquent, inspiring, caustic, no one is left indifferent after listening to her. And that's exactly what she wants, to leave us on our tiptoes waiting to be carried away by words of pleasure, empowerment, trans feminism and especially so much self-love. Each verse is a lyrical genius clapback in the face of this transphobic, sexist and racist society. Prejudices that kill so many queer people of color in Brazil every year. Her existence is transforming, rewriting the HERSTORY of the world and of her country, through the re-appropriation of funk, where SHE finally gets to be the protagonist of her own story and that courage surpasses linguistic or cultural barriers. In 2017 she released her first album “Pajubá” after a very successful crowdfunding campaign and also has her own documentary called “Bixa Travesty” which has gathered accolades through many film festivals around the world. The song “Bixa Preta” is a fucking iconic anthem for 20gayteen and for all of my maricones family out in the world fighting everyday for our existence to be respected.

We will NEVER be erased.

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cinemasnob412 · 5 years

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The Definitive Surviving Girls Of FRIDAY THE 13TH

Inspired by an article featured on VHSRevival.com I’ve decided to compile what I consider to be the definitive ranking of the FRIDAY THE 13TH series’s “final girls”. If you’re not well versed into what makes a slasher film “final girl” so special let’s break it down in simple terms: she’s gotta be the smart one, the “pure” one and in a perfect world would go head to head with the big baddie during the film’s finale, ultimately coming out on top, but not successful enough to make it through a sequel. With the ground rules set, here’s a look at the FRIDAY THE 13TH films’ worst to best “final girls”. Warning, there may be spoilers to follow.

12 - Amanda Righetti - Whitney - FRIDAY THE 13TH (2009)

I’ve never kept it a secret just how much I dislike any FRIDAY THE 13TH film post-Paramount. 2009′s reboot has a few good things going for it: Julianna Guill and a pretty aggressive Jason Voorhees (Derek Mears). In all reality they’re about the only two positives I can come up with off the top of my head. What it’s lacking though is what really made the original set of FRIDAY THE 13TH films so enjoyable. Marcus Nispel’s film leans more into TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE territory than it does FRIDAY THE 13TH. It’s also short on a likable and true to form “final girl”. Righetti’s Whitney character, while by all accounts is the smart and “pure” one, is too reliant on her co-star Jared Padalecki’s Clay character to be considered Jason’s nemesis this go-round.

11 - Lexa Doig - Rowan LaFontaine - JASON X (2002)

New Line Cinema’s entries into the FRIDAY THE 13TH cannon are my least favorite of the bunch. Along with JASON GOES TO HELL: THE FINAL FRIDAY, 2002′s JASON X feels almost nothing like a Jason Voorhees vehicle. Too bad for Lexa Doig, whose Rowan LaFontaine character exhibits all the “final girl” traits, but does so in a pretty terrible film.

10 - Monica Keena - Lori Campbell - FREDDY VS. JASON (2003)

Monica Keena’s Lori Campbell character is really unnecessary in a film like FREDDY VS. JASON. If Jason was going to have an adversary to challenge him throughout the film’s final reel it needs only be Freddy Krueger (Robert England) right? Final girl fail!

9 - Kari Keegan - Jessica Kimble - JASON GOES TO HELL: THE FINAL FRIDAY (1993)

Adam Marcus’s JASON GOES TO HELL: THE FINAL FRIDAY is not even a true FRIDAY THE 13TH film in name. It sure as hell isn’t a true FRIDAY THE 13TH film in content either. With body-swapping, newly revealed Voorhees bloodline ties and not a teenager in sight, JASON GOES TO HELL: THE FINAL FRIDAY is just a complete mess. Kari Keegan’s Jessica Kimble character, like the film she appears in, is a “final girl” by default only (she’s the last girl standing, so I guess that makes her pretty “final”). Her contributions to the “final girl” club are minimal. I guess she does get to stab Jason in the chest with a medieval dagger, that’s pretty cool, right? No!

8 - Jensen Daggett - Rennie Wickham - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART VIII: JASON TAKES MANHATTAN (1989)

Ah! Finally, the Paramount Pictures contributions to the Voorhees legacy. 1989′s FRIDAY THE 13TH PART VIII: JASON TAKES MANHATTAN is easily the weakest of the first eight films, as is the “final girl” character of Rennie Wickham (Jensen Daggett). She dresses like a forty year old mom who’s given up on life, is more of a fragile character than usually required to be an imposing, and victorious “final girl”. It’s not all Daggett’s fault. In reality she's ultimately a victim of lousy writing and poor creative choices by the film’s director, Rob Hedden.

7 - Adrienne King - Alice Hardy - FRIDAY THE 13TH (1980)

FRIDAY THE 13TH purists may cry foul with this one. Hear me out. As a die hard fan I love Adrienne King’s Alice Hardy. She’s the perfect “final girl”. The only real drawback to her character is that she never gets to actually go toe to toe with Jason Voorhees. In fact, the one and only time (not counting the first film’s dream sequence finale) she comes face to face with Mr. Voorhees (in 1981′s FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2) she takes an ice pick to the temple! Her “final girl” days were over at that point.

6 - Lar Park Lincoln - Tina Shepard - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART VII: THE NEW BLOOD (1988)

In 1987 when Paramount Pictures and New Line Cinema couldn’t come to an amicable agreement on potentially featuring both of their marquee horror icons in one film, Paramount forged on with another “versus” idea. Jason versus “the new blood” (I guess that’s what they meant by that title) Tina Shephard (Lar Park Lincoln). Tina fits the mold of the “final girl” perfectly. Add to that fact that she also comes equipped with almost supernatural, telekinetic powers, and old Jason was in for one heck of a showdown in his sixth outing, and the seventh overall FRIDAY THE 13TH film.

5 - Kimberly Beck - Trish Jarvis - FRIDAY THE 13TH - THE FINAL CHAPTER (1984)

Ask me now, ask me in one hundred years, what is the best FRIDAY THE 13TH film? Hands down, 1984′s FRIDAY THE 13TH - THE FINAL CHAPTER. Joe Zito’s film has everything the series has come to be known and loved for. In the fourth entry, Kimberly Beck’s Trish Jarvis, along with her younger brother Tommy (Corey Feldman) put a (temporary) end to the hockey masked killer. Trish is fierce and just as brutal with old Jason as he is with her. She protects her brother, faces her fears head on and ultimately holds her own quite well against Crystal Lake’s most famous resident.

4 - Dana Kimmell - Chris Higgins - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 3 - 3D (1982)

By 1982, the slasher genre’s “final girl” had become well defined. The third FRIDAY THE 13TH entry runs with that established characterization with no hesitation. Dana Kimmell’s Chris Higgins not only finds herself alone, one on one with the seemingly unstoppable force that is Jason Voorhees, but the film, halfway through clues us in that she’s sort of been through this before, having had an encounter with Jason in her younger days that she can’t quite completely recall. Maybe it was her earlier experience with Jason that prepped her for her Higgins’ Haven redux. She hangs the big fella, whacks him in the back of the noggin with a log and a shovel, stabs him in the leg and even tattoos him in the dome with a full on swing of an ax. She thinks and works quickly, constantly keeping herself one step ahead of Jason throughout the entire final reel of the film. Kimmell’s “final girl” would definitely top the list if it were not for our final three candidates.

3 - Jennifer Cooke - Megan Garris - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART VI: JASON LIVES (1986)

Jennifer Cooke’s Megan Garris character is not so much a “final girl” as much as she’s the partner in crime with the sixth film’s “final guy” Tommy Jarvis (Thom Mathews). Why so high on the list then? For starters she’s hot. That counts for something, right? Seriously though, she’s one tough cookie. Not content with just going along for the ride, Megan helps Tommy along the way, compiling all the necessities to return Jason to his watery grave once and for all (?). She even steps in to save the day when Jason gets the best of Tommy during the film’s finale, on the water Crystal Lake fight scene. Just as Dana Kimmell’s Chris Higgins character did in the third film, Megan leaves a permanent mark on Jason’s infamous hockey mask (thanks to her quick thinking and a readily available boat propeller), something that would visually define Jason’s trademark mask throughout the seventh film.

2 - Melanie Kinnaman - Pam Roberts - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART V: A NEW BEGINNING (1985)

I know what you’re thinking. “But Pam never fought Jason, she fought the impostor, Roy”. Well, factually speaking you’d be right. And if you took what I said about Adrienne King early and applied it here, then theoretically Melanie Kinnaman’s Pam Roberts should also be lower on the list. I say you’re wrong though. Kinnaman’s final showdown with Roy (Jason impostor or not) is the stuff of FRIDAY THE 13TH legend. She’s tough, protective of her younger costar (similar to Kimberly Beck in FRIDAY THE 13TH - THE FINAL CHAPTER) Reggie (Shavar Ross) and aggressive when it comes to taking on the masked murderer intent on putting an end to her. She wields a chainsaw for Pete’s sake! Plus, let’s not forget she looks pretty darn good doing all of this!

1 - Amy Steel - Ginny Field - FRIDAY THE 13TH PART 2 (1981)

Amy Steel’s Ginny Field is one bad ass chick! Her showdown with Jason is pretty standard fare when you stack it up against the others in the series. What sets her apart though is her quick thinking and use of psychology to take on Jason when the chips are down. Tricking Jason into thinking she’s his beloved mother by donning her rotten sweater in an effort to strike the death blow on the confused Voorhees may have worked had it not been for one false move. No biggie though, she still lays the smack down on him by way of a machete in the shoulder blade that not only saves herself, but her boyfriend Paul Holt as well, who is in a life or death struggle with the maniac until she lands the fateful whack. Like the character of Tommy Jarvis in the later films, it would have been great to see the Ginny Field character return to do battle with Jason again. Amy Steel has talked about her willingness to return to the series, so maybe, fingers crossed, us fans will one day see the return of the greatest “final girl” in FRIDAY THE 13TH history. A boy can hope!

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