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lilydalexf · 4 years

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Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Elizabeth Rowandale

Elizabeth Rowandale has 16 stories at Gossamer spanning from 1995 to 2012, plus she has more at AO3 (other fandoms too). She's been giftng the fandom with stories for a long time! I've talked about some of my favorites of her stories before, including Hallways and Water's Edge. Big thanks to Elizabeth for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Yes and no. When I find myself suddenly caught up in a fandom that has already lived its glory days (which happens a lot, I'm habitually late to the party), I am always ravenous for fic written during the original run - it always has a different perspective and voice and it's like a little bit of the experience captured in time -- so I can understand how others would be interested in my past. That said, some of my early stuff is pretty awful. LOL. I have left it online for two reasons: 1. Nostalgia, 2. I know there are some fics I've read in my life that may not have been the best written in a literary sense, but just had something magical about them that fed exactly what I needed. And I would hate it if the author took down that work and I could never find it again (which has happened). So I try to respect that same sentiment should it appear in one of my readers. I'd say by about 6th or 7th season of the original run, my work became presentable. :) My largest X-Files work ("Water's Edge") was begun during the original run and completed about a year after the show ended. That one I definitely still claim as my work, even though there's certainly stuff I would fix if I were writing it now.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

So many things! Let's start with my husband. :D I met the love of my life on the X-Files newsgroup in spring of 1995. We were married a year later, and we are still married 24 years later and have a 20 year old daughter. One of the most important friendships of my life came from being part of this fandom - she began as an "Edgehead" during the original posting of "Water's Edge". The fandom brought me my family, friends, and made me believe in myself as a writer and, in some ways, as a person worth being friends with, for the first time in my life. It's kind of crazy, really, how different my life would be without it. The experience was not without its flaws. There was a lot of judgementalism, a lot of cliquishness, a lot of snobbery. I was condemned almost as much as I was welcomed. But in the end it was all worth the life experience.

As far as the fic itself, X-Files was my first real experience with fanfic, and it thoroughly spoiled me for all other fandoms forever, because the sheer VOLUME of professional quality work being put out there was mind-boggling. I expected all fandoms to be like this, and the fact is this is extremely rare and precious. I think I could read X-Files fic for the rest of my life and never run out of pieces worth reading.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started out primarily on a.t.x.c.. Then progressed to mailing lists (especially Scullyfic/E-muse!), and later was very involved on The Haven. The Haven was quite a magical experience.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I think I answered this by over-babbling on the question above. :D But ultimately, I think I would have to say my belief in literature as a tool to connect people on an intimate level that almost nothing else can. To give people a brief moment of sharing their precious internal worlds and inviting someone else to step into it with them.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

Really, it was inevitable. It has all the classic tropes that have always spoken to me - Supernatural horror, law enforcement partners, partner UST, misfits as heroes, haunting soundtrack. But amusingly enough, my first impression of it was negative. My mother and I had been religiously watching "Sightings", a FOX reality show (before "reality shows" were a thing) on the supernatural. Then that got cancelled and they replaced it with some show that was about fictionalized encounters with and investigations of the paranormal. And we were like WTF we don't want that, we want real investigations and evidence! So I didn't watch it out of protest. :D Then one night I stumbled upon it when I had nothing to do and watched "Lazarus". I thought the show was okay, but that I could never really get invested in it because there was no real chemistry between Mulder and Scully (yes, you can laugh me out of the room now :D). But the thing is, you can't FIND the significant moments in that episode unless you're already embroiled in their world. Like when Mulder calls her "Dana" on the phone and we all know he's panicking big time -- this was my first episode, so I assumed he always called her Dana, no big. Some time passed, then I saw Conduit. And Tooms. And I started to get really sucked in. Then I saw Genderbender. Now, if you know me at all, you know since I was about 6 years old, my life has revolved around my current muse. I get obsessed with a certain actress/performer/character, and that becomes my lens for the whole world (yes, at 6 it was Lynda Carter as Diana Prince). I have always moved from one Muse to the next, and the few times I've been without a focus person I'm very untethered and unproductive. So, I'd been in one of my longest dry spells following my Madonna and Vivien Leigh obsessions, mostly focusing on reading Dean Koontz books, when X-Files came along. And this obsession was unique in that I can actually pinpoint the moment I fell. I was sitting in my bedroom watching Genderbender, and they were outside the general store and Scully had just been touched by Brother Andrew and was a little tripped out and staring after the horse and cart when Mulder stepped up to see if she was okay, and...I actually felt myself falling for Gillian Anderson. And there was this moment of both elation and bittersweetness, because I knew how all-consuming my obsessions could be and the emotional rollercoaster they could entail (especially when I was younger, I'm a little better armored now :)). But I have no control over when and where they hit. But I knew by the end of that episode that I was off on another wild ride of the muse. :)

So, the short answer is -- Gillian Anderson. :D

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

Truthfully, I can't experience anything without writing fanfic in my head. I've been doing it in one form or another my whole life, I just didn't know until the X-Files (and the internet) how many other people were like me!! I started writing X-Files fic before I was even online. In fact, The X-Files was the reason I got my first internet service - because the fandom was moving online and I didn't want to miss out. I read my first fanfic in the Unofficial X-Files Fanclub monthly zine and it fascinated me. I wrote my first X-Files fic, a first season story called "Silent Lines", before I had ever been on the internet, and I had it published in that same fanclub newsletter. (I was already writing original fiction, hoping to make writing my career). Later, after I had joined the internet XF community, I wrote a post-ep to "Irresistible" that I posted online. That was my first online fic. Some time after (and a few more fics down the road) when all the rights to "Silent Lines" had reverted to me, I posted that online as well.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I dabble now and then. :) When the reboot came about, I came back to the old stomping grounds and reconnected with some of the Old Guard. I still have a fair amount of pretty Mulder and Scully on my Twitter feed, and I continue to follow all Gillian Anderson's new projects. But it's not my primary focus at the moment. (My serial monogamist muse has another lover this year. :))

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Several (Stargate, Sanctuary, Xena, Battlestar Galactica, Once Upon a Time, etc.). As I mentioned before, almost none of them had anywhere NEAR the quality and quantity of fanfic The X-Files has to offer. The closest I experienced was the Xena fandom. There are some AMAZING Uber fics and Conqueror fics, many of which went on to be published as original novels. Some fandoms were colder and more cruel than The X-Files. Some were warmer and more generous. I was most prolific during my years in the Stargate fandom. I wrote something like 80 fics. It was crazy. I don't think I'll ever be that prolific again.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Just from anything? From television Dana Scully, Stella Gibson, Laura Roslin, Sharon Raydor, Regina Mills. I love powerful women with scars. Kind women at heart who will fight for what they believe in and whom they love. Mothers - whether in actuality or at heart. I love women who prove strength and power can be completely synonymous with femininity.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

A couple of months ago my husband and daughter and I finished a complete X-Files rewatch (original series and movies), taking our daughter through it for the first time. It was awesome to re-experience it all through her eyes. She grew up hearing about it, but had never seen more than a handful of episodes (and, sadly, the reboot LOL).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Every now and then I indulge in X-Files fic, yes. Sometimes new stuff, most often revisiting old favorites.

I definitely read in my current fandoms. For a few years I didn't, but lately I've been at it again. Right now my primary muse is Mary McDonnell, so I'm obsessing over her various roles through the years. Been reading fic for "Major Crimes", "Dances with Wolves", "Battlstar Galactica", "Passion Fish", and "ER" (specifically pertaining to Eleanor Carter).

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Of course. :) Mish's "No Quarter Given" will always own my soul. [Lilydale note: It’s a 3-part story: 1, 2, 3.] "Black Hole Season" by Penumbra, "Above Rubies" by Rachel Howard, "Blinded by White Light" by DashaK, "Sounds of Silence" by GirlGone, "Blood Oranges" by Syntax6, "Absolute Zero" and "Never Enough" by August. So many more.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

From X-Files, I can't really choose between "Water's Edge" which took the most out of me) and "Bridges" (which I wrote just a couple of year ago). I wrote them from very different places and I am proud of what I accomplished in each case. YMMV.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Never say never? :D I still feel badly that I left the sequel to "Water's Edge", "High Tide", hanging after posting just a few chapters. I never should have started it. My muse jumped ship to another fandom, and there was really nothing I could do. And I'm such a different person now, I don't know if what I would write now is what people who loved the first book would actually want to hear. I came back with the reboot and wrote "Bridges" and that largely said everything I needed to say about what happened to Mulder and Scully after "I Want to Believe". So, realistically, that was probably my XF writing swan song. But I would never say I won't ever post another fic. As the saying goes, "It all comes back to the X-Files". (And, yes, there's PLENTY of half-finished fic on my hard drive. LOL)

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I do. Now that my kid is grown, I'm trying to seriously pursue a professional writing career from here forward. And I do still dabble writing fic in my current fandoms. Right now there is a Major Crimes fic sitting on my hard drive waiting for me to work up the nerve to post it.;)

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Once I'm inside my POV character's head, the narrative in my brain won't shut up. I flesh out and what-if everything. I fill in every moment that doesn't appear on screen. I talk to myself a lot and live in my head and sometimes scare family members. I get some sort of orgasmic high from things like seeing Laura Roslin grasp and tuck into her own hair when she's crying while my inner voice screams "OMG IT'S CANON SHE SELF-SOOTHES WITH HER HAIR!!!!!" I maintain a surprisingly sane outer presentation for the crazy obsessed artist I am within.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I began removing my real name from the internet (for you young folks, we all started out using our Real Names and building our virtual houses on Geocities, then got warned from everywhere of the scary scary place that is cyberspace and started NEVER EVER using our real names, then Facebook came along and now everyone and their dog is out there with their real names, and Gen X is still going WTF ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!??), I simply chose what I found to be a pretty last name (Rowandale). Elizabeth is my real name. Along the way, when I had started to feel confined by expectations for my writing based on my reputation, I challenged myself to be more honest in what I wanted to write by using the mental trick of a pen name no one knew was actually me, and invented "Rowan Darkstar" (the darker "edgier" side of Elizabeth Rowandale). "Rowan" was taken from Rowan Mayfair in Anne Rice's "The Witching Hour", my favorite novel at the time. Later, I went public with the fact I was Rowan Darkstar, and when I moved into my next fandom, I did so with that as my primary name. I have written in most of my fandoms as either Rowan Darkstar or LadyRowan with the exception of anything else Gillian Anderson related wherein I carried over the Elizabeth Rowandale since there were many crossover readers from X-Files.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

Many of them do, yes. For many years my mother was my primary beta reader!! Sadly, she now suffers from dementia and can no longer fill that role. My best friend came into my life through my Stargate and Sanctuary fic, so there's no hiding from her, and she is now my beta.:) My husband met me in the fandom. So...yeah, most of my close friends know.:) In my 'other life' as an Army wife (now retired) and suburban Mom not so much.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

The most reliable place is probably AO3. It doesn't have much of my older stuff, but I generally post anything new there. I'm Rowan_D on Twitter.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files?

No, you can't be red/green colorblind and be a field agent for the FBI. No, soul groups don't work that way, Scully would have been his lover in some lifetimes, too. Yes, someone with Scully's education and deliberate precision of language WOULD say "for whom?" and not "for who?", you are quite right to cringe. No, you can't drive to Quantico and back to downtown DC and have it still be morning. And lastly -- The Kansas town after which they modeled "The Rain King" is NOT brown, it is NOT flat, it HAS a regional airport, and the residents are educated and intelligent. I lived there at the time -- There was a whole layout in the local paper about the crew visiting for "authenticity." I still marvel at how that is even possible.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 25, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #elizabeth rowandale #xf fanfic author interviews

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ichorhalf · 4 years

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❛ & when you’re left alone at the feet of the gods , you’ll turn & see the trail of destruction left in your path . ❜

if you can tell , i’m not making nearly as much as an effort as i did with dana but nonetheless , this bastard is here i guess idk what to tell u but i DO be hatin him haha

〔 RUDY PANKOW, TWENTY - THREE, CIS MALE, NONE 〕╰ JONAH WESTCOTT just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of DINOYSUS who was claimed seven years ago ? i’ve heard chiron say that he is INTUITIVE & VERSED , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they’d say they’re NEFARIOUS & EXECRABLE . i’d say they remind me of raising a glass of tinted liquid toward a nemesis before the battle , unlawfully taking a crown that doesn’t belong to him - he crowns himself a victor , a kiss traded with chaos in the shadows on a reddened campfire & sacrifices made with a bloodied smile - he plays war just for the crimson , especially since they're AGAINST THE NEW CABINS .

❛ 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊 ╱ 𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝑭𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑳𝑺

full name : jonah matthew westcott

nickname(s) / alias(es) : u choose

age / dob : twenty three / may , seventeenth

hometown : juneau , ak

current location : long island , ny / camp half blood

ethnicity : caucasian

nationality : american

gender : cis male

pronouns : he / him

orientation : graysexual , grayromantic

religion : polythestic

face claim : rudy pankow

language(s) spoken : english , ancient greek , some latin , some norwegian

speech : informal ; he speaks like he’s always picking a fight , like there’s so much malice & anger behind his words it’s impossible for him to speak correctly . slurred words are a constant , half spoken & half coherent they’ll fling from his lips like blades before he even has a chance to stop them .

hair : blonde & bright , though he usually has them hidden underneath a baseball cap ( since , he’s got one in every color - thanks , mr . d ) to hide the fact that he can’t manage his hair . always messy , always looks like someone’s just held his hair in front of a leaf blower - it doesn’t matter how often he fixes it , it goes right back to being messy .

eyes : crystalline blue , backed by something that can only be described as pure wrath . joyless & often angry , the only glimpse of happiness & entertainment stem from watching him watch chaos unfold .

height : six feet

build : broad & athletic , swimmer’s body .

tattoos : none .

piercings : none .

scars : one single long scar that runs from the back of his left ear down the side of his neck - big & ugly , it wasn’t received in battle as many perceive , but in an accident that happened just feet outside of camp .

clothing style : messy & boyish , beachy as if he’s adopted the persona of poseidon . always seen in board shorts ( no matter the season ) & some form of colorful button up , it’s apparent he doesn’t take too much pride his appearance - since , jonah knows he can get away with a lot just for being conventionally attractive .

usual expression : written in wrath , he’s seen too much & lived through too much to ever close his eyes & dream normally . he hurts more than he’ll ever let on , misses too many people that have died protecting him & it’s evident in the way his features rest when he thinks nobody’s looking . underneath his anger & his unearned confidence rests a lot of pain that he’s never learned to resolve .

distinguishing characteristics : a crooked grin - signature when present antagonizing another camper , eyes that look like they can kill ( which , he’s convinced they can but it’s not a�� real power )

𝑹𝑼𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺

exterior : absolutely ruthless , it’s been quietly established around camp not to talk to jonah unless you’re in the mood for a fight . he’s got a problem with everyone , even the nicest & kindest of demigods . a lost son of maybe ares , he’s always on the search for a fight or an argument , anything where he can yell & spit on his opponents in a constant search of letting go of pent up anger . a loss of morals , he’ll actively go against the grain just to cause a ruckus ; byproduct of abandonment issues & daddy issues , he looks to eris & strife as leading points in his life .

interior : so angry he can’t put it into words - he doesn’t even dream like normal demigods do , but he doesn’t dream as mortals do either . constantly stuck in this anger he’s never learned to get rid of , he’s always learned to act out & lash out onto others before ever turning inward .

𝑪𝑯𝑹𝑶𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑳𝑬

this is not gna be pretty i spent too many brain cells on my app .

trigger warnings : a lot of death , blood , SOME not cool descriptions of death

he’s born on a warm day in juneau , his mother’s the bringer of spring with a halo of golden hair that’s wrapped around her head . she loves him , tells the bloodied baby in her arms that his father loves him too - but jonah never gets to know . robbed of memory , he doesn’t remember being grabbed from limp arms as his mother meets thanatos - the first of many deaths that he’ll cause . cursed by a god that’s supposed to love him , he’s left with an uncle who sees a dead sister in him , but his aunt tries to love him anyway . she wants kids , her husband never wanted any - jonah’s a blessing in disguise .

& oh , is he loved . aunt marjorie picks him up from practice & wraps his sore ankles , gives him snacks on the way to school & convinces uncle jeff to take him fishing . life is good , even if his guardians always share a hesitant look when he talks about the griffins flying overhead or the cyclops who ran past the school . they know that his mother attracted a god , the life of the party , of course only she could attract godhood . they wrap him in their arms every night & recite prayers to gods he can’t pronounce , kiss him goodnight before they retreat to their room . he can hear them boarding up the house every night before he goes to bed .

ten years old on a fishing trip when uncle jeff falls overboard . nobody believes jonah when he says he was pulled over by a creature with impossibly long teeth , or that jonah closed his eyes & heard his uncle pop before disappearing - a misuse of power , aunt marjorie explains that accidents happen . but , she doesn’t try to anger him much after that ; she doesn’t have to worry , she looks the wrong way at a monster on the way to the airport & jonah watches as she’s flung so far into the woods he can’t see her disappear . he emerges from the wilderness with so bloodied & dirtied they think he’s responsible , but it’s not human blood that’s found on him . they don’t know what it is .

the mainland awaits him , several years jumping from family member to family member before finally - a cousin in new york when he’s fifteen . noah’s cool , he’s in his twenties & cleared out an entire room to take care of him & jonah finally remembers what it’s like to be home & happy . the eve of his sixteenth birthday , he discovers a series of letters from family members over the years - they’re all dead . uncle jeff , aunt marjorie , aunt kelsey in oregon , aunt janice in wisconsin . his story unfolds before him , he’s dangerous , the son of a god - & suddenly , he knows the name of the gods marjorie & jeff used to say .

he begs noah to take him to camp half blood , tells him he doesn’t want noah to die either . his cousin is cool , laughs & reassures him that the westcott lineage is strong , that they can’t be wiped out that easily - but after pressuring & pestering , he finally agrees to bring jonah to camp . minutes down the road , noah’s car hits a patch of black ice & jonah doesn’t remember anything but waking up with a healing scar & notice of his cousin’s death .

dionysus claims him the instant they meet , admits his paternity expecting gratefulness but jonah only moves into his cabin by throwing his things . over the next few years he grows into ... a gremlin of a camper . deadly behind a short sword , deadlier behind his words . fights with camp during the war ( barely , almost spent the whole thing at camp instead ) & when lyssa admits secession from camp , almost joins her - but chooses to stay around to cause as much havoc as he can before leaving .

#ambrosia:intro #LISTEN #I REDID MY INTRO FORMAT #AND WE'RE ALL JUS GONNA HAVE TO DEAL W IT

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frangipanidownunder · 5 years

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Twas the night before Christmas: fic

A/N This is for my anon who sent a prompt ‘M&S debate the existence of Santa Claus’. This is set now, post season 11, no baby.

It turned into something a little sexier and longer than I expected. And, it references How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, so posting it today on its 20th anniversary seems fitting.

A little NSFW so there’s cut. Happy Holidays, all.

He’s hanging his stocking from the hook in the mantelpiece. There’s a warm glow from the fairy lights on the overly grand tree in the corner; they blaze and fade, highlighting Scully’s precision-positioned decorations.

“Is there some kind of mathematical equation for hanging baubles that I have been ignorant of all my life?” he asks as she hands him a mulled wine.

The warm smell of cinnamon hangs in the air. She snuffs a laugh from her pink-tipped nose and he picks up the poker to stoke the flames. The fire crackles and spits and he steps back, slotting an arm around her waist.

“Have you been naughty or nice this year, Mulder?” Her upturned mouth shimmers in the light, too pretty not to kiss.

She tastes of spice and citrus. “The year’s not out yet. Why don’t you let me know next week?” He burrows his chin into the juncture of her neck and shoulder and he can feel her breasts move against him as she laughs.

“Well,” she says, shouldering him away with a slow smile. “Let’s see what Santa puts in your stocking tonight.”

He looks down at her, cheeks wine-warmed, hair aflame like the fire, lips plump. She’s amazing, his Scully. Age hasn’t dulled his passion for everything about her. She still intrigues and mystifies him. Still keeps him guessing.

“I’d tell you that you would be the best stocking filler a boy could wish for, if it weren’t for respect and boundaries.” Her hair tickles the underside of his chin as they sway, watching the orange glow. “So, I’ll leave out carrots and a glass of the finest malt whisky and hope Saint Nick looks upon the new, grown up version of me proudly.”

She chinks her glass against his and swallows some more wine. “There are thousands of churches in Europe dedicated to St Nicholas, did you know that? Legend has it that he paid the dowries of three young girls to stop them from being sold into prostitution. Charity and kindness. We could use more men like him in our current climate.”

“Santa for president in 2020.” He drops a kiss on her head. “I didn’t think you believed?”

She snuggles closer to him, practically burrowing under his arm. He doesn’t mind. Her cheek presses against his pec and he flexes it just to get a reaction. She giggles. “Mulder, there’s a vast difference between the red-suited, white-bearded Coca-Cola brand we’re all used to seeing and the real Saint Nicholas, who lived in 4th Century Turkey and is the patron saint of sailors and ships.”

Her arm curls around his waist and he pulls her towards the couch where she lands half on him, half on the seat. Her legs drape over his knees and he tucks her feet down under his hand. She’s wearing knitted socks decorated with whimsical snowmen sporting top hats and button eyes and noses. How had he not noticed before? He snaps one against her ankle and she kicks his hands away.

“Bill sent them. We used to do this present exchange, you know, see who could give the tackiest gifts.”

“I can’t imagine that you, Dr Dana Scully, would indulge in a gaudy gift competition.”

She twists and plumps up a cushion. “I once sent him a toilet roll holder shaped like Polaroid camera. And another time, a yodelling pickle.”

Mulder sniggers and strokes her soles. She wriggles her toes and lays her head back. He watches her as her face relaxes, shadows playing over the perfect creaminess of her cheeks and neck. “Did you know that St Nicholas is also the patron saint of pawnbrokers and pirating and thievery. It’s amazing how a well-targeted marketing campaign can lift one’s image.

“Look at Kersh,” she says and they both laugh.

The fairy lights twinkle like the frost on the windows. The cabin was a perfect find, nestled in the hills. The forecast is for a white Christmas. There’ll be nothing to do but stay inside. The fridge is stocked - smoked salmon, Champagne, a Turducken and organic vegetables, a blueberry cheesecake in the shape of a love-heart, a seasonal special from the local patisserie.

“So, did you believe, as a child, Scully? Or did big brother Bill spoil the surprise?”

“Oh, it wasn’t Bill. It was Melissa.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “She of the harmonic conversions and mystical auras?”

Scully sniffs quietly, tucking her chin to her chest. “One Christmas, when she was about 12, Missy wanted a portable cassette player. You know the ones with the chunky white and red buttons? We shared a room and she wouldn’t settle, just kept sitting up and all I could hear was the rustling of her covers. I told her Santa wouldn’t visit if she didn’t go to sleep and she got out of her bed, sat on mine and laughed.”

“What did she say?”

“She said, ‘Dana, it’s time to face facts.’ The evidence is staring you in the face, yet you choose not to see it.” She looks at him and waits for a reaction. He nods for her to carry on. He loves it when she shares these memories, moments in her life that have stayed within. Whenever she tells them her breathing quickens and her eyes dart about, like she’s pulling images from her mind, sorting through the catalogue of conversations.

She sits up higher, heels digging into his thigh. “She said, with this real smug look on her face, ‘you do know that old Saint Nick is really Dad dressed up in some flea-bitten suit that Mom got from Goodwill and the sack is just an old hessian potato bag that lives at the bottom of their wardrobe all year.’

“I was devastated, but I tried so hard no to show it. I pulled the covers over my head and balled into my pillow. I cried myself to sleep, missed Santa’s arrival.”

“Did Missy get her cassette player?”

“That was the funny thing. She didn’t. She got a Barbie camper van and she launched it across the living room, yelling at Mom and Dad that she was too old for dolls and if Santa were real, he wouldn’t have delivered such a baby’s present. She yelled at Dad, ‘you never want me to grow up.’”

Scully leans her lips into her finger and thumb, rubbing gently and shaking her head. “Bill told her she was a spoilt brat and spent the morning trying to fix up the camper van. Missy spent the morning in our room and Mom carried on serving food like nothing had happened.”

He chuckles softly, imagining young Dana’s eyes widen and wet. “Was that the moment you decided on science as a career path?”

“God, no!” she says. “It just made me more determined to prove her wrong. My ten-year-old self reasoned that Santa must have been real because the gift was a reminder to Missy that she was still too young for grown up gifts and that her tantrum just served to prove that.”

“Santa always knows best.”

“Pretty silly, wasn’t it?” She lets out a soft flutter of giggles and slides closer, kissing him deeply.

Her head drops onto his shoulder and they watch the flames a little longer. “Did you know there’s a town in Alaska called North Pole? And that a man who changed his name to Santa Claus was elected to the city council there?”

“I did not,” she says, peppering his jawline with kisses. “But if we’re exchanging fun facts, have you ever wondered how many calories Santa consumes on his amazing trip around the world?”

“Not as many as your mother serves at a Scully family Christmas, I would imagine.”

“Assuming each household in the world left out two chocolate chip cookies he would consume something like 374 billion calories.”

Mulder whistles. “That’s quite a feat of endurance. I wonder how much his dental plan costs?”

She grins and he sees the fire reflected in her eyes. “If he could run an eight-minute mile, he would have to run for 109 centuries to burn off all those treats.”

“Nobody likes a math geek, Scully.”

There’s a rumbling noise from her throat as she leans in to kiss him. There’s a matching rumbling noise from his as she lifts herself across his lap, knees tucked either side of his thighs.

“You do, Mulder.” She says it as she grinds against his lap. “You love this math geek.”

He does. He really does. There is no formula to calculate the length and breadth of his love. It’s infinity times infinity. She’s latched onto the sweet spot under his ear. This will all be over too soon, if he doesn’t slow it down. He takes a slow breath in. Rummages through the stored trivia he’s collected over the years. The stuff most people would roll their eyes at. The stuff Dana Scully seems to find an aphrodisiac, when she’s in the mood. And as she rocks back and forward on him, arms anchored on his shoulders, it’s a fair bet to assume she’s in the mood.

“Did you know that pre red and jolly Santa Claus, hardened arteries and all, Scandinavian countries believed in a magical Yule goat.

“A goat?” Her voice hits the part of his brain that has control of his cock, ratcheting up a gear. She notices, it’s all in her little whimper.

“The goat would wander around to ensure families were preparing for Yule and demand gifts on the side.”

“A Mafia goat?”

He chuckles and bucks up under her movement. She moans into his mouth. “Ready for more math, Mulder?”

“I’m always ready for more math with you, Dr Scully.” Math and science, morality and scepticism

“To reach everybody on Christmas Eve, Santa has to cover 218 million miles which means he must travel 1,280 miles per second.”

“He must have the elite model alien-technology-built engine on that sleigh.” His fingers work on unbuttoning her top as she rolls her pelvis.

“I concede that unnatural forces are at play at this time of the year, Mulder.” He tries to nod but there’s something more than natural happening down below so he lets her talk as he works his hands around her back to unclip her bra. His fingers brush the knots of her spine and he wonders at her delicate framework, wonders how calcium and collagen and marrow could be so utterly sexy.

“Santa's sleigh would weigh more than 400,000 tons with all those toys so he would need more than 360,000 reindeer to do that.”

Her breasts fall and his palms flatten over them. Her nipples are already hard and he muses that biology is the best science. The human form offers such comfort. Such diversity in texture. He marvels at the gentle weight of her breasts, the peaked points pushing at his skin. The sensual warmth of her mouth, the softness of her against the hardness of his body.

“So Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph need some more friends?”

“Uh-huh,” she says and it’s just the sexiest noise.

She’s grappling with his belt buckle and he doesn’t mind. He loves her grappling. She’s always been deft with her hands so it’s a pleasure of a different nature to see her working so hard, tongue kept neatly in the corner of her mouth, fingers white at the knuckle. He shifts up, allowing her room to do her work.

His belt slithers from its loops and she utters a small whoop of success. He captures the end of the noise in his mouth and pushes her blouse from her shoulders, along with her bra. There’s a stippling of gooseflesh over her exposed midriff. He runs his hands over her ribcage, counting each groove as his straining erection pulses between them.

There’s a smoky flavour to her skin, her nipples, the knobbly joint between her breasts. She’s woodfire and spice, naked on the couch beneath him. Laid out as a gift that he’s blessed to receive. His cock is throbbing with anticipation and she’s open-mouthed and flushed with need too. Her heat wraps around the tip, spreads up his shaft and burns in his throat, his mouth, his brain.

There are sounds all around, the reverberations of his own deep breathing, Scully’s soft moans, the snap of flames, the heartbeat-tick of the old-fashioned mantel clock keeping time above their stockings as though they might be in need of it. Time has never been less important. Time could just disappear and he doubts even Scully would care.

Each stroke fills him with such deep joy that he is sure there is nothing else in the world. She arches her back and in turn he pumps harder, understanding the clues that point to her building climax. Hot breaths under his ear, fingernails scraping the planes of his shoulders, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Fuck, Mulder.”

That’s the most overt sign and he slides a hand under her ass closing whatever gap there had been, pinning her to him so that he can feel her implode. When she does, she cries out and her voice hits his own release button and he surges into her with a shuddering sigh.

She’s boneless underneath him, pulsing faintly, shimmering. He’s unwilling to move. Their hearts beat as one. When he does shift, it’s because the fire spits and smoke fills his nasal passages. He presses his lips to hers and she tugs at the ends of his hair.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

He sits up and chuffs. “What for?”

“For loving me again.”

Her skin is hot as he sets his palm on her bent knees. Her hair is stuck to the side of her face. There are crease marks on her cheek where his weight had pushed her against the couch cushions. She’s still wearing her socks. How could he not love her?

“I never stopped,” he says, handing her the discarded underwear. “You’re pretty hard to let go, Scully.”

She swings herself round and up and slips her panties back on. “I’m old, still sceptical, I’m getting more and more cranky, I have zero patience for anything. I just seem to look at life and think how inefficient it is. I mean, what do you see in someone like that? Someone so bitter?”

He stands behind her, massaging her shoulders, kissing the scar of her chip. “You know how many reindeer Santa needs to pull his sleigh.”

She giggles softly into his clasped hands around her neck. “And that’s the criteria you use as a guide to loving someone?”

“What can I say, Scully. I’m a simple man, with simple needs.”

She laughs harder this time. “You are the most complex man I’ve ever met, Fox William Mulder.”

“No, no, no, Miss Scully. I think you’re confusing me with the other Fox William Mulder. This one here just wants to spend every waking hour loving you and every sleeping hour dreaming about loving you. As efficiently as possible.”

Her stocking moves on an updraft from the fire and she reaches out to still it. “I used to have strict rules about love, Mulder.”

He’s by her side now, holding her hand. “I can’t believe Dr Dana Scully ever had any rules in her life. Sounds fake.”

“When I was a teenager, watching Missy have her heart broken or breaking hearts. I imagined how my future relationships would be. Should be. I’ve broken all the rules over the years, of course. Older men, married men.” She turns her face up to him. “Women.”

The flush on her skin deepens. “You do keep me guessing, Scully.”

“But you rewrote the rule book entirely. You made me see what love was really about. You’ve loved me so openly and honestly that it hurt sometimes. It was too much. But this time round, it’s like I’ve grown to fit the size of your love. Does that make sense?”

It makes perfect sense. So much sense that a tear slips down his cheek. “There’s a reason why some things cannot be explained away by science, don’t you think? There are reasons why some ideals become so embedded in a society that you can’t tell where the line between fantasy and reality lies any more. Santa Claus, St Nicholas he was real. And now he’s a secret magical sleigh-speeding reindeer-riding dream figure. He personifies the clash between the commercial and the sacred. Love is no different, is it?”

“So true love has become Hallmark sentiment, and we don’t know the difference any more?”

Their bodies press together and they’re almost swaying in rhythm to the dancing flames. Heat washes over them. Their stockings are flat, expectant. “If saying I love you in 14 point Edwardian Script is what it takes then so be it, Scully.”

Her hair tickles the skin of his upper arm and he lifts it, allowing her under, so her cheek rests on his pecs. His cock is still half-mast and twitches as her breast squash against his ribs. “I had you pegged as a 48 point, bold Chiller font kind of guy, Mulder.” She makes a breathy ‘wooooohhhh’ noise, like a ghost.

“Who would you haunt, Scully? If you could?”

“Kersh,” she fires off, no hesitation.

He barks out a laugh. “I think I’ll join you. Imagine the pair of us tormenting him in his dotage. Floating around his place, leaving all the evidence of ghostly activity behind, and he wouldn’t be able to prove a goddamned thing. He’d sound like a lunatic. Such sweet revenge.”

She shivers as she laughs with him and he pulls her in for a full embrace. “I wonder what Maurice and Lyda are doing now?”

“Probably not cuddling naked in front of a fire in a cabin in the mountains.”

“More fool them. This is the only place to be on Christmas Eve.”

“We’re not going to shoot each other, are we?”

She chuckles, but it’s low and throaty and his cock twitches. “Lucky we left our weapons at home.”

“Maybe we should just exchange gifts instead?”

“As long as mine’s not an umbrella with alien faces on it this year. I’ll get dressed and go get yours.”

He pulls a face, hanging on to her arm. “Don’t.”

“Get your gift?” she asks, chin tilted up to him. “It might be better than an Italian leather Filofax, Mulder.”

He chuckles, but shakes his head. “Don’t get dressed.”

She looks at her nipples, tight peaks and grins at him.

He shrugs. “Best present ever.”

She looks at his cock and arches her eyebrow. “Ditto.”

The fire snaps and flickers and the stockings waft back and forth. The couch is draped in soft amber light. He takes her hand in his and leads her back there.

“There is a school of thought, Scully, that suggests that believing in Santa Claus cultivates the imagination and the ability to think of possibilities and potentialities. He buries his face in the warm valley between her breasts and she strokes his hair.

“And I know how much you want to believe.”

As the clock sounds a soft chime for the turn of midnight, he stirs, half-opens an eye. There’s a shadow stretching from the open door of the bedroom to the fire, now just ashes in the hearth. It’s large and round. There’s a cool draft and Scully shivers in her sleep. He pulls the blanket higher over them as she snuggles closer. There’s a scraping noise and a soft jingle of bells. He sinks back down against the pillow and smiles as he drifts back to sleep.

#txf fanfic #my fanfiction #christmas eve fluff and sexytimes #msr

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homenum-revelio-hq · 5 years

Photo

Welcome to the Order of the Phoenix, Dana!

You have been accepted for the role of EMMELINE VANCE, with your requested faceclaim change to Jessica Findlay Brown! I so enjoyed reading your application! I really liked how clear it was that Emmeline has such an intense dedication to her patients and career. The Order definitely needs those skilled hands if they’re going to survive! I am so excited to have you as part of this roleplay!

Please take a look at the new member checklist and send in your account within 24 hours! Thank you for joining the fight against Voldemort!

OUT OF CHARACTER:

NAME: Dana

AGE: 23

TIMEZONE: ACST

ACTIVITY LEVEL: I currently work part time but am looking for full time employment, most of my hours at present are on the weekend, therefore, I would be most around during the week and during daytime hours. I would definitely be capable of posting at least once during the week

ANYTHING ELSE: N/A

CHARACTER DETAILS:

NAME: Emmeline Vance

AGE: 27

GENDER, PRONOUNS, and SEXUALITY: Female, she/her, bisexual, but perceives herself as heterosexual and not fully comprehending her sexuality due to the time period and how things were in the 1980s

BLOOD STATUS: Half-blood

HOUSE ALUMNI: Ravenclaw

ANY CHANGES: I was thinking of a potential FC change to Jessica Findlay Brown

CHARACTER BACKGROUND:

PERSONALITY:

Emmeline, for the most part, is quite modest when it comes to herself and her talents. She is never one to talk herself up, yet knows just what she is capable of and not. She is often one to deflect compliments, preferring to say it was nothing at all when internally she understand the meaning of it. She is strongly opinionated, but it is rare she will ever speak up about those certain thoughts unless pressed to admit her thoughts. Perhaps the Order could do well with knowing what she has to say, but she doesn’t have the faith in herself to let her thoughts be known. In her mind she knows that to most she’s just a Healer, just the one that fixes their problems when they’ve gone, just the one that fixes them when they are hurt.

When it comes to her patients, however, she has a certain empathy, wanting the best for them, but also won’t tolerate their bullshit when they try and pull one on her. She isn’t against the occasional dirty tactic to keep them under her care for their recovery, while it is never anything harmful, it is often just enough to keep them where they are. On occasion, her empathy can be too much, with Emmeline almost becoming too attached to some patients, feeling their loss personally even when logically she knows there was nothing she could do to save them.

BRIEF OVERVIEW OF FAMILY:

Logic runs deep within Emmeline’s family, her father a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, applying the same logic and intelligence that he passed onto his daughter, just in a different manner than her. His work kept him away for long periods of time as Emmeline grew up, leaving her alone with her mother and siblings while he worked. The eldest child, Emmeline was the first to enrol at Hogwarts and to leave home, even if not permanently. While she is close to her family, closeness is not something which has to be fostered by hours and days spent together. They all know well enough the bond that is between them, knowing that if they need each other, then they’ll never be that far away, and when they do meet up it is as if no time has passed at all.

Emmeline is admittedly closer to her mother than her father, based mostly in the fact that her mother was the parent that was around the most when she was young. She shares certain connections with her father, seeing how they are similar as she ages, but it is never quite the same or as open a relationship with her father as it is with her mother.

She knows that her family worries for her, her parents in particular, often mentioning that she needs to take a break when they find time to see each other or in the occasional letter that gets sent between them. However, when there is so much at stake, it is hard to listen to them and what they believe best for her when there is so much more that she can be doing to help others.

OCCUPATION:

Emmeline is a Healer and was the career that she knew she wanted to follow after her education at Hogwarts was completed. She is still relatively new when it comes to being a fully qualified Healer and was the wizarding equivalent of an intern when she made contact with Dumbledore in regards to joining the Order. While qualifie, she has yet to specialise in one particular area of medical care, some of her flaws showing when the worst of cases fall into her lap when she is practicing at the Potter Estate. However, she takes it all in her stride, consulting various textbooks she still has to keep hold of her duty of care.

At present, she is struggling to keep up with the demands of both her role at St Mungo’s and assisting the Order, though she fears leaving her role at St Mungo’s, believing if she were to leave now she would wind up having to settle for working as a wizarding equivalent of a GP when she was to return to her proper career. Sooner or later the hard work and exhaustion will catch up with her, hopefully not causing a patient of hers to suffer in the process.

ROLE WITHIN THE ORDER/THOUGHTS ABOUT THE ORDER:

Emmeline’s role within the Order is to keep people alive. She has yet to see the front line in the war and doesn’t plan on doing so any time soon. That isn’t her job and that is fine with her, knowing where her skill is and that there is no one else in the Order, bar the likes of Dumbledore and potentially Moody and Shacklebolt, that out skill her when it comes to Healing. She doesn’t have much time to think about everything crumbling around them, her main focus being her patients, both to do with the Order and those at St Mungo’s. They are her priority and always come first before herself or any other factor of the war.

For the most part, Emmeline keeps away from the politics of the Order, listening in, but rarely ever voicing her opinion unless it is asked directly of her, which it rarely ever is. She can see where improvements could be made, but no one ever gives her the time of day to fully contemplate them and even less to let such ideas come to fruition.

Additionally, Emmeline is too busy most of the time to contemplate what is going to happen next, having to focus herself in on what is happening presently rather than what may come. She knows things are bad, that they are getting worse, but she can’t allow herself to get caught up in all of that when she has patients to look after in the present which are owed more of her time than her sitting down to wonder about the future. Maybe the Order will come crumbling down, but Emmeline will always have a place in the war, whether it be with the Order or St Mungo’s, her duty of care will always exist.

SURVIVAL:

Emmeline is a little surprised in herself that she has not succumb to the war thus far, especially considering where she works in her known occupation. Each time she walks into St Mungo’s, there is always that thought in the back of her mind that she may not leave, a place for the invalid being an easy target where the victims are even less able to fight back than they would in their fit state. Only those in desperate need are currently visiting St Mungo’s, the risk of a large group of wizards being congregated together not outweighing the benefits of proper medical care.

At the present, Emmeline doesn’t really have a home, but a glorified wardrobe and bathroom that she sometimes gets to visit. Between long hours at St Mungo’s and visiting the Potter and McKinnon Estates, she more often than not finds herself sleeping in those places when time allows her even a brief reprieve. Once or twice a week she makes it back to her small flat, a hole in the wall sort of place, one that she has never spent much time in, even before her involvement with the Order due to her medical training and work.

RELATIONSHIPS:

While Emmeline has never felt alone, she has never thrived on an active social life, liking her own company and that of learning rather than spending extended periods of time with other people. There are few Emmeline is close with and those she deems close enough, are under the belief that she is spending the majority of her time at St Mungo’s. While it is true, they don’t know about the rest of her time she spends working for the Order and the endless work she is doing. However, her lack of contact for long periods of time is not at all unusual when it comes to Emmeline, her work having always been the priority and that has yet to change.

Within the Order, Emmeline mostly keeps to herself, though not intentionally. She has so much going on that finding time to foster connections with those that she is fighting with is hard to come by. That doesn’t stop her being friendly with those that are part of the group, though she’d not truly consider any of them a friend if they were not brought together by such circumstances. Those that she is the closest with are those that have been under her care the most, whether by lack of luck or acting stupidly brave and getting themselves hurt time and time again. Still, despite that, they are still her patients and their care comes before friendship in her mind, even if it means healing them to send them out to battle and come back to her care once more.

OOC EXPLORATION:

SHIPS/ANTI-SHIPS: I have no set relationships for Emmeline, any connections she forms are something that will come from the writing and plotting that will inevitably take place. I am open to most anything as long as there is a connection and chemistry there.

WHAT PRIVILEGES AND BIASES DOES YOUR CHARACTER HAVE?

Emmeline is privileged in the fact that she hasn’t directly seen the worst of the war itself, only seeing the aftermath as patients come under her care. She has never been in a serious level of danger, not like those that she treats and strives to keep alive. It is unlikely that she will be in such danger, unless the place she is currently occupying comes under attack, something that she is quietly grateful for in amongst everything that is going on.

Additionally, Emmeline is a half-blood in a war that is partially waged against muggleborns, while not being pureblood herself, her blood status gives her some protection she wouldn’t have otherwise as a muggleborn. In society, she’s somewhere in the middle, not important or pure enough to be thought of often, but not so low that she’s an immediate target in the war. She skirts under the radar, doing both what she has to and wants to do, but otherwise tries to keep herself as far away from the direct conflict as possible while focusing on what her job is first and foremost.

In regards to biases, Emmeline is free of most biases, her profession making it harder for her to act in such a manner. To her, a life is a life, whether they be pureblood or muggleborn, as long as they do not intend to harm, she is willing to help them. However, she does have her opinions and while she doesn’t wish serious harm on others, she does wish some would look after themselves more than they do. It frustrates her when she has to heal the same person over and over for getting themselves injured in the same way, knowing she could be using her talents elsewhere, knowing how they are important to others.

WHAT ARE YOU MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO? Emmy brought me here. She suggested the group to me and it was refreshing to see a group that isn’t focused on the same typical things that most groups are. While ships are great and all, there is a time and a place for them and the end of a war that is being lost isn’t strictly the best place for them. It doesn’t mean that they can’t happen by any means, but it doesn’t have to be the be all and end all of a group which is what I can see in this group.

PLOT DROP IDEAS: More of Emmeline’s observations and the potential that she gets accused of being the mole and how that would pan out when others in the Order think that of her. People often talk in front of her now without thinking about it and it would be interesting to see the change in that and perhaps feeding her false information to see if the Death Eaters find out the information to determine whether or not she is what they think she may be.

ANYTHING ELSE? No, that is all! Thank you for taking the time to read and consider my application

#homenumaccepted #bio rp #new rpg #marauders era rpg #harry potter rpg

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