love is kinda crazy

LGM/X-files Double Drabble: Loans & Equity

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 06:16:55 GMT

At first, the calls were bearable, though numerous and sporadic. Some interruption while Langly was trying to work wasn't anything new. It was annoying, but amusing to see the system failing to keep the imaginary money.

However, being harassed about someone else's outstanding (in almost every sense) student loans was not his cup of (insert caffeinated beverage). Nor was it fun to continually explain he was not covering for this "Cheryl" girl, that she was really and truly not available at his phone number.

So he became less polite, while they kept their level of it up. They got back at him by calling more. And more. And more.

They kept leaving the number at which they wanted Cheryl--who might've changed her name, gender and ethnicity just to get away from these people-- to call. So, he put it to good use. Distributed it amongst his civil-minded friends. They got it "mistakenly" put in for other, racier, more expensive numbers in various places.

(Mulder found out about it from one of the ads he tried to call into; Langly had never had opportunity to blackmail a federal agent until then)

Within a week, the phone number was taken down.

X-Files Drabble: Mulder's Insomnia

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 06:15:49 GMT

After Diana left, I stopped sleeping in the bed. No point in it.

I barely managed to sleep in the bed with her. Diana wasn't insomniac. She slept peacefully in bed. I watched the alarm clock. Sometimes I'd break up the routine by watching her sleep.

That didn't last long. Every night, I'd set a certain time limit. You're not supposed to associate the bed with sleeplessness. First rule of insomnia.

I'd go through whatever work I'd brought home, and smoke half a pack.

I quit smoking after she left, and the bed. Not the work or watching the clock.

X-files Fic: Scully's Insomnia

Mon, 06 Aug 2007 06:08:39 GMT

Mulder called me at twelve something. I couldn't make out the time. We were in a hotel in God knows where, investigating an abduction.

He had an. . .idea? A call? A lead? A kindred spirit had reached out to him, told him something. God. I barely cared what he was talking about. None of it sunk in. I'd just laid down; my head on the pillow. He was following up on it; he'd come and see me when he was done.

I changed into a T-shirt and jeans. The only set I'd brought. I didn't want to wear a suit, not at midnight, one, whatever it was. I brushed my teeth again, second time in about an hour.

I went through my morning ritual, in case I couldn't later. Typical for us, out of town: He can't sleep, so I can't sleep. When we have to report to the bureau in the morning, he abides by the societal rules regarding quiet hours and phone calls. Sometimes. Most of the time.

What if something happened to Mulder? He isn't good at making new friends. Or keeping old ones. I don't think I've met anyone yet who can stand him. He shouldn't be out on his own.

Then he's at my door, knocking like the police which we out-rank. He smells like beer and cigarette smoke.

"You meet your contact at a bar?" I ask him, locking the door behind him. He needs to talk.

"How did you know?" he says, looking for a place to sit. There's a bed. He takes it.

Profiler versus doctor, who can diagnose and analyze better?

He tells me about the contact, the bartender who had crucial information completely unrelated to his recent possession charge. I say nothing, as the words are barely filtering through my consciousness. Mulder is still defensive against my perceived doubt; I don't even have to be present for this conversation for him to supply my side of it. I am defined as Mulder's partner, keeper, minder, watcher; even by him. That is who I am, who I'm supposed to be after the bars close and he's polluting my senses with that scent.

This is marriage, partnership, as much trust as he can give me. We know each other too well, perfectly, finishing each other's thoughts.

I want to sleep. I want to spend time off the clock. I want this tall crazy man to stop talking so I can sleep until our flight back home.

I want to know what I let the tall crazy man into my room, why night after night I let him rob me of my sleep so I can indulge his (natural) insomnia. He gets manic when we're working on something. Especially if it reminds him of Samantha. I try not to connect the dots too much. It seeps out anyway. The barriers and boundaries are being eroded.

Tall, dark, and insane keeps talking. I keep not saying anything much, anything real, anything I can even remember saying the next minute. I need sleep.

I never knew insomnia could be a viral thing until I started
working with Mulder.

My 'Toons

Wed, 16 Apr 2003 07:52:49 GMT

Gargoyles

Futurama

Johnny Bravo

ReBoot

Freakazoid!

Invader Zim

freakazoid

Tue, 15 Apr 2003 01:06:39 GMT

Super teen extraordinare (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)
Runs around in underwear (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)
Rescues Washington, D.C. (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)
Unless something better's on TV (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)

His brain is overloading; it has a chocolate coating.
Textbook case for Sigmund Freud (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)

Check out Dexter Douglas, nerd computer ace.
Went surfin' on the internet and was sucked into Cyberspace!
He turned into the Freakazoid; Strong and super-quick!
He drives the villains crazy -- 'cos he's a lunatic!!

His homebase is the Freakalair (Freakazoid! Fricasse!)
Floyd the barber cuts his hair (Freakazoid! Chimpanzee!)
Rides around in the Freakmobile (Freakazoid! Freakazoo!)
Hopes to make a movie deal (Freakame! Freakayou!)

He's here to save the nation, so stay tuned to this station
If not we'll be unemployed (Freakazoid! Freakazoid!)

FREAKAZOID!!

Watching it with my friends, off of kazaa.

Longhorn is from my ex's hometown.

Bah.

But, shiny. geeky. shiny.

nonfic 'zine pimping

Sat, 12 Apr 2003 01:33:59 GMT

It has been three months since an issue of the Phoenix Forum has been published. Various atrocious and decent things have been happening. We have been cursed with interesting times.

Our times have been so interesting, we've decided to make a special Phoenix Forum issue about it. For the most part, the interest has either been in manic-depressive self-destructive tendencies, or the repression of human sexuality. …yay? At any rate, we are compiling material faster than you can say "my ex just left me and I have nothing to live for." That's not true, by the way.

You're wondering why I'm posting this here. Glad you asked. Or at least thought it. As usual, I shall be actively seeking out writers for the issue. If I electronically tap you on the shoulder about this special issue, I'll probably refer you to this entry.

Thanks.

Fri, 04 Apr 2003 20:09:08 GMT

Brannon Braga hates me. Well, most loyal Star Trek fans, yeah. He hates people like me in particular.
Blah blah blah JC4eva-cakes.

I've tried giving Enterprise a chance. I've also tried gouging my eyes out with a spork. Neither works, as I can't put a great deal of effort into it.

TWoP helps. A lot.

Dude!

Mon, 31 Mar 2003 23:37:15 GMT

1: walks on nice spring days remind me of that fic I want to finish. You know. That one fic.

2: kimera! Dude! PS fangirls unite. Uhm, or something. My writing has improved since then, honest.

3: My old site has some weird fic on it. Juls did the formatting, a bazillion years ago. I am so proud of that disclaimer. Again, my writing has improved since then.

4: I have 16 codes. I can think of one person I wanna invite, and she might be on here... Anyone need to be hooked up?

5: The X-files bunny just JUMPED into my head.

6: I'm gonna work on Petshop of Horrors fic, I promise.

7: I still have bad Mary Sue tendencies.

8: Okay, so, my Profiler/EFC series? Is like my favorite of all of my fanfic writing. The only betaread one, too. I'll be over here now...

Jumping Further Off The Cliff

Sat, 22 Mar 2003 16:34:06 GMT

See, 'cos in my head, I was a lucky little lemming who hit this nice little perch of moss and now I'm jumping off that too...

What is your name?

Drusilla Rain. GODDESS. Or just sad geek.

Raspberry Swirl

Fri, 21 Mar 2003 22:58:18 GMT

Title: Raspberry Swirl
Feedback: Beka@phoenix-forum.com
Spoilers: The Unconquerable Man or rather, the universe within.
Pairing: Beka/Rhade. Look, it's het! Implied slash, m/m and f/f and explicit f/m referred to.
Disclaimer: Andromeda is property of several entities, including Tribune. Stupid Tribune. Song by Tori Amos.
Notes:AU, where Rhade lived. WIP. Late birthday gift. Yeah, it sucks. A lot. I'm sorry. I'll stop apologizing and get to the fic.
Trance's Song:
If you want inside her, well,
Boy, you better make her raspberry swirl
Things are getting desperate
When all the boys can't be men
Everybody knows I'm her friend
Everybody knows I'm her man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"It's your birthday," Beka said, from her seat on his bed. Rhade had just walked into the room. He ran an idle glance at her. She wore a black outfit overlaid with layers of blue. Far too much clothing for her lounging position.

"You broke into my quarters to wish me a happy birthday?"

"I'm going to do more than that." She reached for his hand, half-pulling him onto the bed. "Close your eyes." He hesitated. "Fine..." Beka produced a blue blindfold from the pocket of one of her shirts.

"Another surprise?" he asked, and was greeted with a laugh. "What?"

"Nothing. Sit. Please?" Rhade sat on the bed, his eyes closed. "Edge of the bed." He moved down. He heard the soft rustling sound of Beka removing her clothing. Heard her heartbeat accelerate. She leaned against him.

She leaned closer against him, rubbing against his lower back. "Mmm, it's not like you haven't been stabbed in the back by lovers before," she said, purring a little as she spoke. "And I'm sure I'm not the first to do it like this..." She pushed a little, hoping to evoke some emotion.

"Not with a toy..." he said. She could hear the sullen pout in his voice.

"Well, pardon me for not being naturally equipped." She arched back, then pushed against him again "I'm not a natural blonde, either. Aren't toys fun?" He started to pull away. She lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to play if you don't want to."

He shrugged off her hand. "How generous of you."

"You're sulking." The incredulity in her voice cut like a knife.

He got off the bed completely. "I don't like being stabbed in the back." He turned to look at her hips. "Blue?" Blue and black met his eyes, with the offending object being blue.

"Raspberry," she said immediately.

"What?"

"Blue raspberry. Flavored. Textured. Scented."

"Flavored," he repeated dryly, looking at it and her and it and her. His eyes moved quickly. His slightly parted mouth did not.

"Yeah. I'd lick it myself but I'm kind of not at the right angle. Not that flexible." She shrugged easily. "I've done this before, if you're worried about dealing with an amateur..."

Rhade looked up at her eyes. "Harper?"

Beka arched an eyebrow. "Trance," she said, her tone level. She didn't correct that assumption. "She sings."

"Sings?"

"Harper taught her the song...." Beka smiled. "You're trying to distract me."

"No, I am genuinely curious as to what you've done to your crew."

"Nothing that a High Guard captain wouldn't do," she said with a leer.

Rhade smiled. "You think this is a typical Commonwealth birthday celebration?"

"Oohh, such decadence," she said with a shiver. "Is it?"

Rhade didn't answer.

"Did he--"

He leaned forward for a kiss, moving around the blue raspberry life-like cock. "Don't ask me that," he said into her mouth.

"Can I?" she asked, her teeth rubbing against his lips.

He smiled. "All right."

To Be Continued, For I Am Evil.

(tbc,fiae?)

Fri, 21 Mar 2003 18:03:35 GMT

Yay, another journal I may or may not use. The fact that I used one of Jen's codes to get it and that it's fannish in nature means I just might...

I'll use my code for Murasaki if she wants a journal here....

Yeah, babbling. Hi. More later. Real life calls me.