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opedguy · 2 years

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Chinese Spy Balloon Drifts Over U.S.

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Feb. 3, 2023.--Drifting over parts of the United States at 50,000 feet, including over U.S. nuclear silos in Montana, an unidentified Chinese Foreign Object raised red flags in the Pentagon, not buying the Chinese Communist Party [CCP] explanation that the massive object was monitoring weather patterns. President Joe Biden, 80, was informed Feb. 1, deciding to let the UFO continue what the Chinese government said was an aimless path, concluding that it couldn’t pick up significant intel. When the so called mammoth balloon, two school buses in length and girth, drifted over Montan’s Malmstrom Air Force Base housing nuclear warheads, 69-year-old Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin and 64-year-old Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Mark Miley took notice. Austin and Miley cautioned Biden about shooting down the spy balloon, fearing the debris field could endanger U.S. citizens.

U.S.-Chinese relations have been at lowest level in decades, cautioning Biden about taking any aggressive action. Biden infuriated 69-year-old Chinese President Xi Jinping Sept. 23, 2022 saying he would defend Taiwan with U.S. troops in the event China tried to seize the democratic island of 40 million by force. Secretary of State Antony Blinken, 60, postponed his trip to Beijing, calling Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Li to reschedule. Chinese officials insisted the airship was a weather balloon, accidentally drifting out of its trajectory due to the Jet Stream. Hard to imagine after flying over Montana heading eastbound, there’s much population to be concerned about should the Pentagon decide to shoot down the balloon. U.S. officials, speaking anonymously, said the Pentagon wanted to keep communication lines open without shooting down the spy ship.

Talking about the balloon’s limited navigation undermine the fact that the balloon continues to track its way into the Midwest, also home to several military bases. “The idea that Communist China has a spy balloon headed towards Whiteman Air Force Base in Missouri right now—the home of the Stealth Bomber—is absolutely unbelievable,” said Sen. Eric Schmidt (R-Mo.). “No American should accept this. I don’t,” said Schmidt, encouraging Biden to shoot it down. Brig. Gen. Pat Ryder, Pentagon press secretary, refuses to say whether there were any plans to shoot down the Chinese spy ship. Ryder said he didn’t think the balloon posed a threat to U.S. national security. If the U.S. pulled the same stunt over Beijing, the CCP wouldn’t hesitate one second to shoot it down. Doing nothing sends a strong message to Beijing about the extent of Biden’s and Pentagon’s hesitancy.

No one believes the CCP explanation of a weather balloon gone adrift because of the Jet Stream. Traveling from the Peoples Republic of China, the balloon had plenty of random drift to veer away from the U.S. mainland. China’s account of wind patters AKA the Westerlies was entirely feasible to Dan Jaffe, professor of atmospheric chemistry at the University of Washington. Jaffe doesn’t know the extent of the GPS navigational system on the behemoth spy ship, now heading toward other strategic U.S. military bases. White House officials are flummoxed over what to do, knowing that diplomatic relations with China are near the breaking point over Taiwan among other things. White House Press Secretary Karine Jean-Pierred said that “the presence of this balloon in our air space . . . is a clear violation of our sovereignty as well as international law and it is unacceptable this occurred.”

Blinken and Deputy Secretary of State Wendy Sherman both protested to a top Chinese embassy official Wednesday, one day before the White House went public with the event. Blinken and Sherman hoped that the spy ship incident would open up discussions about Taiwan, human rights, China’s claims in the South China Sea, North Korea, Russia’s War in Ukraine, trade policy and climate. How could Blinken think that the U.S. has leverage on Beijing to discuss anything other than why Beijing sent an unlawful spy ship over the United States? Whatever other issues exist with Beijing, they’re not going to be salvaged because the U.S. didn’t shoot down the Chinese spy balloon. China wants the U.S. to stop meddling in its internal affairs especially over Taiwan and what happens in the South China Sea. Blinken already provoked Beijing over human right abuses.

Failing to shoot down the Chinese spy ship speaks volumes about the current state of diplomacy with Communist China. Biden brought the two nations to near blows over violating the 1979 Taiwan Relations Act, requiring the U.S. to recognize only one China, the one in Beijing, but, more importantly, end the 1954 Sino-American Mutual Defense Treaty. Biden told Xi he would defend Taiwan with U.S. troops. What kind of world does Blinken live in thinking the Chinese weather balloon has anything to do with the Ukraine War? Failing to act on the spy ship tells the CCP all they need to know under Biden’s leadership: That the U.S. is bluffing about military action. Former President Donald Trump, 76, has said repeatedly that foreign adversaries do not respect Biden. When it comes to a Chinese spy ship, Biden had only one appropriate option, to shoot down the Unknown Chinese spy ship.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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mushroomjar · 2 years

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I present to you: them

[Image Description: Picrews of my (OP's) OC, Ximena. Ximena is a white person with albinism, very pale skin, very light blue eyes, and short, spiky blonde hair.

1: Ximena is shown with a curious, questioning expression on their face. They wear a dark yellow shirt with a drawing of a bee on it, dark blue overalls, a lesbian flag pin, a purple jewel necklace, round glasses, frog earrings, and multiple colorful hairclips. On their face, they also have multiple colorful bandaids and stickers, as well as fake, colorful freckles. There are four drawings of hearts around their head. They stand against a black circle and the nonbinary flag as the background. Picrew credit: hunbloom

2: Ximena is again shown with a curious, questioning expression. They wear a yellow shirt with a green design of a smiling animal on it, a light blue jacket with pink flowers and a pink collar, a blue bandaid on their nose, a pink bandaid on their cheek, an ice cream cone with one pink ice cream scoop on their head, a UFO earring, and a star earring. The background shows vertical white and yellow stripes. Picrew credit: citrus_captain

3: Ximena has a questioning expression as they look to their side and make a peace sign with their hand. They wear a red shirt with a blue design of a cat-like creature on it, a yellow jacket with a blue hoodie, blue strings, and blue bottom, one red sleeve and one green sleeve, light blue shorts, light blue and white striped thigh high socks, a green bandaid on one cheek and a blue bandaid and a pink bandaid on their other cheek, round glasses, a candy hairclip, a lollipop hairclip, a red heart hairclip, a rainbow flag hairclip, and dangly, fluffy, yellow earrings. The background shows a green forest, with two trees and a blue stream. Floating near Ximena's head is a gift with a red balloon attached to it. On the bottom-right corner, there is a clown. Picrew credit: chemicataclysm

4: Ximena is shown smiling and holding a bag of potato chips. They wear a yellow shirt, a red hoodie, a bandaid on their nose, round glasses, a red hairclip, and red star earrings. The background shows vertical yellow and lighter yellow stripes, and a white color dripping from the top.

5: In this image, Ximena gives a big, toothy grin, showing off their braces. They also hold a syringe filled with a green liquid. They wear a purple shirt with yellow letters that read "we are a boy we are a girl," a dark blue coat with yellow stars plastered all over it, a green alien pin, many colorful stickers on their face many of which are star-shaped, a yellow star necklace, round glasses with a small heart and a small star on them, UFO earrings, three yellow star hairclips, a blue Saturn hairclip, and a green alien hairclip. A small yellow star seems to pop out of their head. The background is in deep, purple colors. Picrew credit: urgonic

6: The same Picrew as the previous one, but Ximena is now raising their index finger and thumb, and wearing a different outfit. They wear a pink shirt with a rainbow on it and text that says "death metal," a pin with a rainbow infinity symbol, a necklace with beads in the colors of the rainbow, red Among Us crewmate earrings, the same stickers on their face as in the previous image, one big red heart on each cheek, red heart-shaped sunglasses, and the same space-themed hairclips as in the previous image. The background is now a blend of rainbow colors.

End Image Description]

#don't rb #i've been rotating them in my mind for the past week nonstop someone help #i love them sm fr you don't understand #alright this has been sitting in my drafts long enough time to post #oc: ximena #oc tag #cat rambles #can you tell i have a lot of fun with them they're literally one of my favorites for me to do stuff with #long post

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spaceskam · 4 years

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happy birthday @manesalex !!! sorry it’s kinda late, I took two naps today askjdfals

ao3

“Just go over there.”

“What? No! That’s weird.”

“How?”

Michael shrugged Isobel off his shoulder and looked back at his sketchpad that was a spaceship design he was beginning to think wouldn’t work. However, his eyes drifted back up and over to where Alex was sitting under a tree by himself with a book in hand. It was almost too picturesque to be true. But there he was.

“I barely know the guy,” Michael said. He still bit into his thumb as he watched Alex stretch his neck by leaning his head to one shoulder and then the other. What the fuck.

“What do you mean you barely know the guy? You sat next to him for four years and talked to him nearly every day,” Isobel scoffed. Michael rolled his eyes. “Plus I know you have a thing for him.”

“I do not have a‒”

“You’re a lot of things, but a good liar isn’t one of them,” Isobel said. Michael glared at her, but she grinned as she reached into her picnic basket and pulled out two oranges. “Go offer him one.”

“I don’t want to interrupt him. What if he’s super into his book?” Michael asked.

“Michael, it’s now or never. You’re about to go to college. Might as well try to get laid before you go by the hot emo kid,” Isobel said, handing him the oranges and then nodding over at him. He really, really did not want to bother him.

And yet he really, really did.

So, with the constant reminder that he was going to be leaving town relatively soon and if this went horribly he could just forget it ever happened, he made his way over to Alex Manes. The worst thing that could happen is he says no. Or laughs in your face. Or spits on you.

“Hey,” Michael said, trying to casually throw one of the oranges up in the air. He very not casually missed it and watched in horror as it fell into Alex’s book. Though, he supposed that was better than actually hitting Alex with it.

“Hey to you too,” Alex laughed, looking up at him with a brighter smile than he’d had in probably all of high school. It was almost jarring. “You want this back?”

“I was gonna offer it to you, but I guess it already decided it belonged to you,” Michael said. Play it cool.

“Oh,” Alex said, folding the corner to mark his page before closing his book and readjusting to sit up straight. “Did you wanna… like, sit with me? Or are you busy, ‘cause‒”

“I’ll sit,” Michael said and did his best not to think too far into it. Namely hoping not to think about the fact that Isobel was probably making embarrassing facial expressions behind him.

Michael sat criss-cross beside Alex and dug his thumb into his orange, ripping the rind off in pieces. He was perfectly content doing that until he heard Alex laughing under his breath. When he looked up, he saw Alex half-way through peeling the orange in one long strip.

“What the fuck, how are you doing that?” Michael asked, scooting closer without even thinking.

“It’s easy, you just sort of use your thumb to make a little circle around the top right here and then slowly guide it,” Alex said, his long fingers twisting the orange in his hands as he continued to peel it, “Less messy.”

“Man, didn’t know you were gonna make me seem so dumb just by sitting near you for five seconds,” Michael teased. Alex rolled his eyes and nudged his knee into Michael’s.

“You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met, you’re just impatient when it comes to orange peeling, I guess,” Alex said. Michael bit back a smile.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re pretty smart too.”

“I’m not the one who got a full ride to UNM,” Alex pointed out. Michael raised an eyebrow.

“You heard about that?”

“Yeah, I never got the chance to say congrats. So… congrats,” Alex said, gently putting the single long strip of orange peel down on the ground and plucking out a wedge.

“Thanks,” Michael said, “So, uh, are you going to college? Or are you doing something else? Gonna go busk in LA, maybe?”

Alex shrugged, taking a bite out of the wedge before his tongue swiped over his bottom lip to catch any juice. If Michael’s brain short circuited for a moment, it managed to go unnoticed. Who allowed someone who looked like that to just exist in everyday life? He seemed unreal.

“Still weighing my options,” Alex said, looking over at Michael with mirth in his eyes, “But don’t be surprised if you see me around campus, okay?”

Michael straightened up a bit and his eyes widened. “Oh. Awesome. That’s‒We should, like, get coffee together.”

“Yeah,” Alex agreed, nodding his head, “We should.”

Michael felt like his body was on fire as he watched Alex take another bite all while thinking of casually getting coffee with him on a college campus. That was straight out of a YA novel. That was so normal. Could he be normal with Alex? Could he actually have that?

“Maybe, um,” Alex said, shrugging again, “If you’re free, we could get coffee together before? Like… tomorrow, if you’re not busy?”

Michael stared at him for a moment, lips parted as he processed what he was saying. Coffee. Together. On purpose. Tomorrow. When Alex glanced back up at him, he was smiling still. All wide and pretty and impressive and what the fuck.

“Like, for real?”

“What do you mean? Yeah, for real,” Alex said, laughing warmly. Surely Michael was melting into the grass by now.

“Like… a date?” Michael asked. Alex looked back down at his orange as his cheeks turned a shade of red.

“I mean, yeah, if you want.”

“Yes!” Michael said a little too loudly, “I mean, yeah, sure, sounds cool.”

“You’re such a dork,” Alex laughed, grabbing one of his ripped off pieces of orange peel and throwing it at him.

“Hey, don’t throw things at me,” Michael said, throwing a different piece at him.

Alex’s laughter grew as he threw another piece and then another, another, until he called a ceasefire.

“Okay! White flag,” Alex told him. Michael held up his hands in surrender, though his heart was going wild in his chest. Four years sitting next to Alex and it’d never felt this easy. Was that what came with a date with him? How many was he going to get? “You haven’t even eaten any of your orange yet.”

And before he could even process it, Alex held out an orange wedge. Michael raised his hand to grab it from him, but Alex tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as if that’s not what he was suggesting. Slowly, to make sure he wasn’t completely wrong, Michael leaned forward and opened his mouth. Then Alex pushed it past his lips, the pads of his fingers touching them before he moved his hand to Michael’s jaw to make him close his mouth. That was enough to make his brain actually stop functioning.

“Are you gonna chew or are you planning on choking?” Alex asked softly. Michael slowly started to remember how to eat and chewed slowly, eyes never leaving Alex’s.

He waited until he swallowed it to speak, thankfully.

“I really wanna get coffee with you. More than once,” he said. Alex smiled.

“Good. Because so do I.”

By the time Alex had to leave for his shift at the UFO Emporium, Michael was ready to bow down to Isobel for making him go over there in the first place.

#Malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic

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blogparanormalexpresso2stuff · 4 years

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youtube

UFO In Historical Film Of Flag Raising on Iwo Jima, Feb 23, 1945, ,UFO Sighting News.

Published on 1 Jan 2021

Date of sighting: Feb 23, 2020

Location of sighting: Iwo Jima

Source: US National Archives https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lEg9a...

I was looking at old historical film archives and found this one that really grabbed my attention. Not only is there a UFO that flies past the most memorable and historical moment of the Iwo Jima battle, but as it flies past, the soldiers turn from looking at the flag to looking at the UFO and then its cut out! There is 10-30 seconds missing from this historical film! Why? Because someone else also saw it and wanted to remove it from US history. However they did a poor job and the cut is not only deliberate, but obvious to all who see it.

Scott C. Waring - Taiwan

#ufo #ufo sightings #uaps #us marines #world war 2

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azvolrien · 3 years

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jazzhandsmcleg replied to your post:

any word on why the visitors’ center looks like a UFO?

Yes, as a matter of fact! The building is a repurposed storm signal; during periods of really wild weather they would raise a flag or some kind of windsock on the flagpole to signal to people out at sea that it was unsafe to try and come into the harbour. Accordingly it’s compact but really, really solid (the walls are about three feet of solid concrete) to stand up to said weather.

#jazzhandsmcleg #not gonna lie the new url will take some getting used to

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disappointingyet · 4 years

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Repo Man

Director Alex Cox Stars Emilio Estevez, Harry Dean Stanton, Olivia Barash USA 1984 Language English, a bit of Spanish 1hr 32mins Colour

‘You're a white suburban punk just like me’

This might be the film that most influenced what I came to want and expect from new movies in my late teens, early twenties and probably beyond. I was just about to turn 14 when it came out, and while I loved old movies (Astaire and Rogers, Casablanca) and Raiders Of The Lost Ark*, I guess I was looking something of the moment, and maybe something that felt mine in a way. And Repo Man got there before (and set me up for?) other key movies of my adolescence: Raising Arizona (which has moments that feel fairly similar), Blue Velvet, Down By Law, She’s Gotta Have It, Heathers… It feels curious, somehow, that it was directed by a bloke from Liverpool, as well as being exec produced by my favourite Monkee, Michael Nesmith. Why does that feel curious to me? Maybe because big movies set in the US can be directed by people from anywhere, but smaller ones we associate with locals?

It was also the first film I saw that was shot by Robby Müller, and I’m guessing that at least 20% of the times I praise the look of a movie, all I really mean is ‘The cinematography looks a bit like Robby Müller did it.’ There’s a great dustiness to the film, a fairly particular take on LA, and some unexpected moments of calm and beauty amid the noise and scuzz.

If you haven’t seen it – and apologies for the self-indulgence and taking so long to get to the ‘about’ bit – Repo Man has two storylines that weave in and out of each other. The one we get to second focuses on Otto (Emilio Estevez), a frustrated and bored suburban punk who accidentally ends up working for a car repossession company and being mentored by Bud (Harry Dean Stanton). His initial contempt gives way and soon he’s despiked his hair, is wearing a suit and is fully immersed in the firm’s bitter rivalry with Los Hermanos Rodriguez.

Meanwhile, a strange man has driven into town in a 1960s Chevy Malibu with something weird and glowing in the trunk.* On his trail is both a mysterious government agency and local UFO enthusiasts, including Leila (Olivia Barash), who lets Otto pick her up. Assorted characters, including a bunch of Otto’s old punk mates who are now armed robbers, briefly have the Malibu in their possession.

There’s a nice balance between the kid-learning-his-sleazy-trade-from-cynical-old-hands bit and the weirder stuff. Crucially, it’s all funny and all ties together. Cox does a great job of constructing his own particular world, with great touches like the super-generic packaging in the supermarkets and liquor stores where most things seem to be simply labelled Food or Drink.

Bud is one of the classic Harry Dean Stanton roles, and Emilio Estevez is well cast as the not-all-that-sympathetic Otto. But what you want from this kind of movie is lots of distinctive minor characters, and Repo Man certainly has that, from the repo guys, including Miller (Tracey Walter) and Lite (Sy Richardson), to punks Duke (Dick Rude) and Debbi (Jennifer Balgobin) and the creepy blond federal agents.

LA ska revival pioneers The Untouchables have a cameo as a scooter gang and hardcore punks The Circle Jerks play a lounge version of themselves, and there’s a terrific theme tune by Iggy Pop. But my favourite musical moment in the movie is Otto sitting by himself in the middle of nowhere singing Black Flag’s classic TV Party.

Watching Repo Man again, I caught myself wondering: ‘Does Alex Cox wake up thinking, “How did the Coen Brothers nick my career?”’ The answer being, of course, that Coens made a bunch of great films and Cox – as far as anyone I know knows – never came close to Repo Man again. I can’t say that definitively, because I’ve only seen a few of the many films he’s made in the years since, but none of them has a dazzling reputation. (Do let me know if any of them are worth checking out.) He did do a fine job presenting the BBC’s (much-missed) cult film slot Moviedrome in the late 1980s/early 1990s, for which I’ll be forever grateful. *‘Yeah, yeah, Mr Indie Movie Hipster, but what about John Hughes movies, which you were obviously into?’ That’s true, but I’m pretty sure I saw Repo Man before I saw The Breakfast Club, and I hadn’t seen Sixteen Candles, so, yeah, I am pretty sure I saw Repo Man before I ever watched a John Hughes film.

**If you’re thinking, ‘Hang on, this is few years before Pulp Fiction,' I should point out that both films were decades after the great Kiss Me Deadly. This is part of my ‘Every girl should be given an electric guitar on her 16th birthday’ series of reviews about early/mid 1980s movies

#repo man #alex cox #harry dean stanton

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bestillmyslashyheart · 5 years

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Inked

Happy Birthday @bisexualalienblast!! I hope you are having the most wonderful day and that this little bit of fluff makes you smile

also on Ao3

“Wait, wait, wait!” Liz called over everyone. The room was slow to settle, too much alcohol involved to keep them quiet. “Mikey, you didn’t answer.”

Everyone turned to Michael who merely drummed his fingers on the table and stared Liz down. “Gimme a shot.” He crooked a finger at the bottle in the middle of the table as everyone groaned.

“C’mon! You can’t drink,” Isobel cajoled. “Just tell us about one.”

“Just one!”

“Please?”

Michael stared around the table at each of his friends and siblings, each of them craned forward eagerly, hoping against hope that Michael would finally answer the question. Each of them but one, that is. Alex leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow in a dare. Michael wasn’t sure if he was daring him to talk or to keep his mouth shut.

He reached for the bottle.

“You’re no fun!” Rosa griped. “You have multiple tattoos, man, why not explain one of them?”

“It’s no use,” Max grumbled. “He’ll never tell. He’ll just show up one day with a new one and never mention it no matter how many times you ask.” Michael grinned as he threw back his shot.

As the turn passed to Kyle and his regrettable decision to choose Dare, Michael slowly ran a finger along the outline of the guitar on his arm. It had faded with the years and the long hours in the sun but it was still readily visible, bold against the pale skin of his forearm. A foot nudged his and Michael looked up to see Alex smiling, his eyes moving from the guitar to the other tattoos Michael had hidden under his clothes.

Max was only mostly right when he said Michael never explained his ink. Alex knew what each of them meant, even if Michael had never actually said the words and the reverse was equally true. Their friends might not know but Alex had his own fair share of tattoos hidden under his clothing and only Michael knew the story behind each one.

Kyle took a shot instead of doing Isobel’s Dare and the game continued. Michael stopped paying attention, lost in thought as he continued to stroke the tattoo.

2008

“I want to do something stupid.”

“Like join the military?” Michael scoffed. Alex smacked him lightly on the stomach. They very carefully weren’t talking about Alex’s pending departure, even as it crept closer by the second.

“I want a tattoo,” Alex announced.

“Oh yeah?” Michael turned his head. “What of?”

Alex studied the stars overhead. “Would it be stupid if I said I wanted to get the UFO Emporium logo?” His voice was quiet but the night was so still, Michael heard him as clearly as if he’d been shouting. His heart skipped a beat.

“That depends, I guess. Do you just really love your job?”

Alex turned to look at him. “No.”

Michael didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure if it was arrogant of him to assume that Alex meant their first kiss was so noteworthy that he wanted to permanently mark his skin as a reminder but he wasn’t sure what else would make Alex get that logo as a tattoo.

Alex pulled away when Michael didn’t say anything, a few inches of space suddenly appearing between them. Michael’s side grew cold and he rolled over until he was perched over Alex, his good hand bracing him next to his head. “Would it be stupid if I got a tattoo of your guitar?”

A smile slowly inched its way across Alex’s face. “No logo?” Michael shook his head. No way was he getting a fake alien head put anywhere on his body. Alex ran a hand down his hip. “I think a guitar would look pretty cool.”

“Michael!”

He leaned back just in time to avoid Kyle’s ‘friendly’ punch to the arm. “What?”

“Truth or Dare?”

“Again?” He groaned.

“Yup,” Maria popped. “So, which is it gonna be?”

He knew she was going to ask about his tattoos again, he just knew it. For some reason, it had been the topic of the night, what ink people had and why and what ink they’d consider getting in the future. Somehow Alex had managed to stay out of the discussion altogether, Michael thought as he glared at him across the table. Alex smiled innocently and motioned to Maria who was still waiting for an answer. “Truth,” he forced out, wishing he was a bit more drunk and willing to do whatever madness Maria came up with.

“Why the hell would you get a tattoo of your own hat?” Alex choked on his beer as the rest of the group stared at Michael incredulously.

“You have a tattoo of your hat?” Kyle asked.

Michael rolled his eyes and ignored Alex as he died silently on the other side of the table. “I like my hat and I didn’t want to lose it. I figured if I ever lost the actual thing at least I’d always have a bit of it with me.”

2012

“Is that what I think it is?” Alex stopped in the middle of what he was doing, Michael’s jeans hanging by one leg as Alex stared at his now naked limb.

Michael propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at Alex perched between his legs. “What?”

Alex ran a finger over the inside of his calf. His touch was light enough that Michael had to stop himself from flinching as it started to tickle. He knew now what Alex was staring at. “I didn’t want to lose it,” he admitted quietly. “You gave it to me.” Alex surged up and kissed him.

“I can’t believe you got a tattoo of your own hat,” he laughed into Michael’s hat.

“You bought it for me,” Michael repeated. “It’s the first gift anyone’s ever given me and it came from you. Why wouldn’t I want to keep it forever?” Alex stared at him, mouth agape, for a moment before he kissed him again.

“Well,” he panted when he pulled back. “I feel less dumb now.”

“Oh?”

Alex grinned and tugged off his shirt, Michael helping him as soon as he realized what Alex was doing. As soon as the offending fabric was gone, Michael pressed a kiss to Alex’s sternum. He started to move towards Alex’s nipples but Alex grabbed his hair and gently pulled him back. Without a word, Alex turned slightly and directed Michael’s head down until he focused on the black ink scrawling up Alex’s right ribcage.

stole the guitar right outta my hands

stole my whole heart too

who knew we’d be lost forever

“Is that-?” Michael’s hand shook slightly as he ran a finger over the words. They were his. He’d written them the last time he’d seen Alex, the other man plucking at his guitar strings as they made music together.

“We didn’t get to finish it but I didn’t care,” Alex told him softly. He chuckled. “It’s our song.”

Michael had to kiss him then so he did. “You’re a sap. I’m a terrible song writer.”

“You are,” Alex agreed instantly. “But I don’t care.”

Michael kissed him again then ducked his head to kiss the words. His words.

“That’s a dumb reason to get something inked onto your body forever,” Rosa was saying as he tore himself from the memory. “I approve.” Michael grinned and reached out a fist for her to bump. She did so with minimal eye roll.

“Alright,” Michael shifted in his seat. “Alex.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.” He grinned even as their friends shot him down. Michael even stood up and was halfway across the table before Liz shoved him back.

“That doesn’t count. Do something else.”

“Why doesn’t it count?” Michael protested with a laugh. “He said Dare, I gave him a dare.”

“It’s not a dare when you two make out all the time anyway,” Kyle rolled his eyes. He’d been happy for them when they got their shit together for about one day before he’d quickly tired of their PDA. “Do something else.”

Michael hummed. “Ok,” he grinned at Alex. “I dare you to show them a tattoo.”

Utter silence. And then-

“You have a tattoo!?” Liz and Maria yelled in unison, whirling around to stare at Alex as Rosa whooped with delight.

“Since when?” Liz asked.

“What happened to the guy who hated tattoos with a passion?” Maria followed. “You’ve always hated tattoos.”

Alex shrugged and grabbed a shot. Rosa was across the table in a second and pinned his wrist to the table. “Nuhuh, Manes. Show us the goods.”

“Don’t you think if I’d wanted you all to know I had a tattoo, I’d have shown you before now?”

“So your boyfriend’s playing dirty, tough luck,” Isobel was entirely unsympathetic. “Show us!”

Alex glared at Michael before sighing and nodding. “Fine. But I need you to let go.” Rosa held up both hands with a ‘who me?’ expression plastered on her face.

With his arms free, he slipped his jacket off his left side and quickly rolled up the sleeve to expose his shoulder. There in bright colors, only lightly faded from time but not the sun, was a pride flag stretched across the width of his shoulder.

“Huh,” Liz mused. “For some reason, that was not what I was expecting.” Alex rolled his eyes and put his jacket back on.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Liz huffed.

“I was expecting some old school emo reference or something,” Maria laughed. Michael snorted and quickly covered it up with a fake cough.

“I got it after my first Pride,” Alex admitted. “Seemed like the thing to do.” He met Michael’s gaze, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he tried to hide his smile.

2014

It was the first time they’d gone to a tattoo parlor together. Both of their first tattoos were done on their own to be shown later but this one, this one they wanted to do together.

Michael chatted happily with the artist as the woman got set up while Alex sat nearby, his phone in his hand as he scrolled through his photos.

“Is this good?” The artist asked as she placed the stencil on Michael’s arm. She held up a mirror and Michael gave her the okay to go ahead.

“Anything good?” Michael had to speak a bit louder to be heard over the gun as she got started. Alex shifted without a word, angling his body and his phone so Michael could see the screen.

“We’ve got a couple of good ones in here,” Alex told him even as he deleted a blurry photo. “I still can’t believe you bought that hat.”

Michael glanced at said hat in the corner, the sparkles catching the light and sending little rainbows around the room. “I felt naked without mine.”

“So you got the least subtle thing available?”

Michael nodded slowly, careful not to jostle his arm as the artist switched colors. “I like that one.”

Alex stopped, his thumb poised to swipe to the next one. “Really?” He looked awful, his hair a sweaty mess and his make up smeared.

“We look happy.”

Alex looked at it again, this time ignoring the make up and the sweat and instead focusing on their smiles. They really did look happy. Without a word he sent it to Michael.

“First Pride?” The artist asked with a smile. Both of them nodded. “Is it going to be your last?”

“No,” Michael told her immediately.

“Definitely not,” Alex echoed.

“Good.” She switched colors again, this time etching the purple stripe onto Michael’s skin. A few more minutes and she deemed him good to go.

Alex took some photos of his new tattoo, the bi flag colors stark against his skin, while the artist cleaned up and got herself set to do Alex’s flag.

“Which shoulder?” She asked as Alex settled in the chair. “Right, like his?” She nodded at Michael. Alex followed her gaze and considered him briefly before shaking his head.

“Right.”

“Who’s next?” Alex got the game back on track and diverted their questions away from his tattoo. Michael marveled at the ease with which he did so, envious at how Alex neatly escaped the endless questions Michael was forever subjected to. Max looked like he wanted to ask another question but Alex stole his attention with a dare for Liz to give Maria a lapdance.

Michael pulled out his phone to record as Isobel queued the music. Liz rounded the table and pulled Maria’s chair back from the table to give herself room to work.

“You okay with this?” Maria pulled her hands away from her face laughing and nodded for Liz to go ahead. Liz grinned and got to work. The first few seconds were graceful but Liz quickly lost her composure and the dance turned into utter silliness. At one point she leaned back too far and Maria had to grab her waist to stop her from falling onto the floor. She didn’t quite stop her in time to prevent Liz from hitting the glasses on the edge of the table.

“Oh shit,” Liz laughed as Maria helped her sit back up. “I’m sorry!”

Alex waved her off even as he held up his dripping sleeve to protect the rest of her clothes. Kyle grabbed the overturned glasses as Isobel hopped up to grab napkins. Michael helped Max clear the table so Isobel could wipe up the spilled tequila.

“I’ll throw those out,” he took the dirty napkins from Isobel as she switched to a wet rag to make sure the table was sticky.

“Well hello there,” Michael leered as he entered the kitchen to find a shirtless Alex hunched over the sink. “You okay?”

“It soaked through my jacket to the sleeve,” Alex explained as he scrubbed at the stain. Michael tossed the napkins in the trash and grabbed Alex’s shirt to help out. They worked in silence for a minute before Isobel interrupted.

“Holy shit, you’ve got ink,” she stared at the five tattoos littering Alex’s upper body.

“Iz-” Michael warned as Alex turned away from her. He’d always been a little shy about his ink.

She tossed the dirty rag at Michael and retreated to the living room without another word.

“It’s fine,” Alex waited until she was gone to speak.

“Yeah, it is.” Michael answered, responding to the concern Alex hadn’t voiced. “She won’t bring it up.”

Alex ran a hand down his chest in thanks and Michael grabbed it. He dropped the shirt to cup Alex’s hand and press a kiss to his wrist, his lips caressing the numbers inked there.

2019

“Guerin,” Alex panted as Michael attacked his neck. Michael hummed. “Where’s your truck?”

“In the parking lot,” Michael mumbled as he pressed open mouth kisses to Alex’s collarbone, the top buttons on his shirt suddenly undone.

“Guerin,” Alex warned when Michael didn’t move. “I’m not hooking up with you in the back room of our high school reunion.”

Michael finally lifted his head. “You hate the Airstream.”

Alex rolled his eyes as he tangled his fingers in Michael’s hair. “I don’t hate it. It’s not the most comfortable, sure. But it’s infinitely better than this.” He looked around the store room they’d found themselves in.

Michael sighed and took a step back, grinning when Alex let out a low whine at the separation. He jerked his head. “Let’s go.”

Alex grabbed his crutch and quickly followed. They didn’t talk during the walk to Michael’s truck, dipping around the edge of the room to avoid Isobel and Maria. The drive to the Airstream was also silent except for the faint sounds of the radio, carefully tuned to Alex’s favorite station. The closer they got the more the nerves settled in between them.

They’d spoken since Alex’s accident but this was the first time they’d seen each other. Michael’s hands ached with the need to touch Alex, to prove to himself that Alex was real and here and alive. But Alex was home for good now and it felt like there were things that needed to be said that weren’t and the words hung heavy in the air.

“Hey,” Alex grabbed his jacket as they stood awkwardly in the middle of the Airstream. It was the first thing either of them had said since leaving the reunion and Michael feared for a moment that he was about to leave but he just pushed it off of his shoulders. Michael tossed it to the side the second it slipped off his wrists. Alex fingered the buttons on his shirt, an uneasy look on his face.

Michael cupped his face slowly and Alex sank into it. He leaned forward and kissed Michael before Michael had a chance to move. They lost themselves to it for a few minutes, only separating when Alex pushed Michael’s shirt over his head, Alex’s shirt already on the floor.

“What’s this?” Michael grabbed Alex’s hand as it moved back to his hair. There was black ink on the fine skin on the inside of his wrist, ink that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen Alex.

Alex didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed Michael gently until he fell back onto the bunk. Alex sat next to him to remove his jeans and leg and Michael shucked his own pants and boots.

“What’s that?” Alex pointed at his ankle as it was bared to him. Michael eyed his own new ink and kissed Alex instead.

Later, the sweat cooling on their skin as they lay tangled together in the small bed, Alex cupped Michael’s face with his right hand, angling his wrist so Michael could read it.

“They look like coordinates,” Michael rubbed a thumb over the numbers.

“They are,” Alex’s voice was soft. “For here.”

“Roswell?” Michael raised an eyebrow.

Alex hummed. “After the- well, after, I wanted a reminder of where home was.”

“You hate Roswell?”

Alex nodded. “But you’re here.” He shifted and started to pull his arm back but Michael held tight. “Home’s not always a place.”

Michael didn’t offer any comments, just pressed gentle kisses along the tattoo. After a moment he sat up and tossed off the sheet covering them.

“Michael?”

Michael turned his leg so that Alex could see the new ink on his ankle. Alex looked at him for permission before reaching out and thumbing the six numbers. 072318

“What do they mean?”

“It’s the day you called me from the hospital,” Michael admitted. “I’d heard about the incident in Iraq since it was on the news and I had the worst feeling that you’d been involved. It was only when you called me that I felt like I could breathe again. It was the day I knew I hadn’t lost you. That you were safe.”

Alex couldn’t quite reach his ankle with his lips so he rubbed the numbers again before pulling Michael’s head down to kiss him.

“I’m safe,” he promised. “I’m okay.”

“And you’re here.”

A loud throat clearing pulled them apart. “You have to come back to the table at some point,” Isobel admonished.

Alex glanced over his shoulder at her. “Says who? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

Isobel arched her eyebrow. “You’re not having sex in my kitchen.” Alex turned to Michael and they shared a conspiratorial look that made Isobel groan. “I’m disinfecting this whole place.”

Michael handed Alex his shirt, the tequila stain not coming out but at least it wasn’t sticky anymore. “We could always go home.”

“We could.” Alex tugged his shirt on. “We shouldn’t, though. We promised a group night.”

Michael nodded. “We did promise.”

They stumbled through the front door of the cabin 20 minutes later, Liz and Maria’s jeers still ringing in their ears. They got ready for the night individually, coming back together in the bed.

“I still can’t believe you got this,” Michael fingered the old alien logo tattoo on Alex’s hip. A year prior, Alex had gotten it touched up and added a cowboy hat to it.

“Well I’m not just gonna have any old alien on my body for forever,” Alex teased as he kissed the mark over Michael’s heart. He’d had mixed feelings about it when Michael told him what he wanted to get but he’d come to love it. His time in the Air Force had had its drawbacks, particularly for their relationship, but it had been a huge part of Alex’s life. After he’d received his discharge papers, Michael had gone out and gotten his rank tattooed on his chest. Captain Alex Manes was forever a part of him, now, just as it would forever be a part of Alex himself.

Michael rolled him onto his back and kissed his way through Alex’s tattoos before ending on the large mark on his left ribcage, the skin still healing. It was the alien map that had haunted Michael since he was a child. Michael had teased Alex for getting the same tattoo as his brother but he’d been not so secretly touched that Alex had wanted a map to Michael’s home.

“You think we’re done getting tattoos?” Alex mused, his fingers carding through Michael’s hair as Michael continued to explore.

“Maybe but I doubt it,” Michael leaned up to kiss him. “I’m sure we’ll have more moments we want to remember forever. Personally, I’m looking forward to adding another date somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” Alex laughed. “You got one picked out already?”

“Not yet. Figured we could pick that one out together.”

Alex hummed, a small smile on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”

Michael shook his head. “Nope. When I propose, you’re gonna know it.”

“I look forward to it.” Alex leaned up and kissed him, long and slow. “But not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Michael agreed, chasing Alex’s lips as he leaned back. “We’re busy tonight.”

#malex fic #rnm #my fic #i was told that i've been to angsty lately so fluff was needed #so i give fluff

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lanegrooms · 4 years

Text

Mystery Babylon Revisited 03: Notes from “Egyptian Magic”

Part 3 of Bill Cooper’s Mystery Babylon series:

youtube

These are not the beliefs of Bill Cooper or myself. These are the beliefs of the mysteries schools that make up what is known as, “Mystery Babylon” or the Babylonian religions.

Notes Below:

Mystery Babylon: Hour 03, Egyptian Magic [Bill Cooper’s “The Hour of the Time” Radio Broadcast]

“These are historic broadcasts, and by making these broadcasts, I have sealed my fate.”

Intro: More on the Sun

The sun enter each house of the zodiac at the 30th degree, and leaves in the 33rd.

A Freemason is not told the truth about the object of his worship until he obtains the 30th degree.

Thus Gods Sun is said to enter into his ministry at 30 and dies at 33.

This is why the 33rd degree is the highest, because no man can be higher than the Sun.

background lore

When viewing the Sun’s reflection on the water at dawn or sunset, you are witnessing the Sun walking on water.

Ancient man believed the Sun controlled the weather.

God’s Sun did this as he crossed the sky in his boat.

The boat of Isis.

Ra the sun god a.k.a. Osiris, wears a sun disk on his head.

symbolizing his power in the heavens

the boat is made of a serpent and bears his eye

seated on a pedestal representing Maet, or divine order.

Every king, prince, lord, dictator, national flag, coat of arms, citation, etc... uses the sun as a primary symbol.

Thus God’s Sun is the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.

They see Christianity as a perversion of these mysteries.

in ancient times, months followed the phases of the moon.

The scorpion betrays the Sun in autumn

The original October surprise.

Thirty moons of silver.

Scorpion: Judas

1307, Oct 13th in France, more on this later

Earth is considered the Mother

Rain is the fertilizing agent from the Father in Heaven

Intercourse between Earth and Heaven

The Canaan fertility rite: The Marriage Feast of Canaan.

over 5,000 years old

Egyptian Magic Background

Reiteration of Sun mythology

The child Horus was called the Logos: the Word

The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.

The only begotten of the Father

The Word was lost.

The symbol of the Word today is the Obelisk.

The stone

The lost word of Freemasonry (more later)

Horus was later in Egyptian history was given another name: Isos/Isis: Jesus

If you want to follow the life of God’s Sun

You must follow the Sun/ face to the east

You must be born again

A former president did not directly claim to be a Christian, but to have been born again.

Life is symbolized by coming out of the water.

They hate Christians

and you are in danger

Old Testament:

Malaki: God is the Sun with healing in his wings.

Mathew and Luke: God’s Sun wanting to gather all under his wings

In ancient Egypt pictured the sun with wings

Jeremiah: God the Potter

Isaiah: You are the Potter, we are the clay

UFOs

The images of “winged craft” depict the Sun

Ancient alien theory and UFO theories is compromised by masonic forces.

Man is considered sheep/flock

Kings: sheperds

Sheep:

blindly follow

born to be fleeced

lead to the slaughter

the skin is worn about the Freemason’s waist

the 23rd Psalm: go to sleep

Rod and Staff

Pharaohs wore the symbol of the rod and the staff on their chest.

The rod to beat with

The staff to lead

Note: Bill Cooper’s informants have infiltrated the lodge.

The god Nimu fashioned man from clay.

in some depiction Thoth is pictured also, marking the length of man’s life on a staff.

Morning Sun: Horus; At high noon: Aman-Ra

Called in 2 Corr, and other places, God is still called Amen.

Amon was said at the end of their prayers.

Reminder: We have only just begun to uncover the worship of Ba’al or Baal or B’el

Ba: the Sun

al/el: god

Reminder: Wake Up Now.

Bill states his allegiances

God

Family

State

If you stand for nothing, you are already dead.

Egyptian Magic Continued

The use of magic is expressed in the Osirian Cycle

The redemption of the human soul

Isis was the patroness of the arts of Egyptian Magic

Applies the most potent charm when she resurrected Osiris

The gods of Egypt were part of a magical system

A cerimonial Kaballah

an elaborate metaphysical system

Egyptologist have no clue

Call them superstition

The Curse of Aman-Ra

The opening of King Tut’s Tomb

All but one who entered the cursed tomb died within a year

7 french authors and journalists died within 2 years of the visit.

A mark was found on the mummies face

a similar mark appeared on one of the tomb’s openers

Over the entrance of the Tomb was a magical tablet: The Stella of Malediction

O ye beings from Above;

O ye beings from Below;

Phantoms riding the breaths of men;

Ye of the crossroads and of the great highways;

Wanders beneath the shade of Night;

And ye from the abysses of the West on the fringes of the twilight;

Dwellers in the caverns of obscurity who rouse terrors and shuttering;

And ye walkers by night whom I will not name, friends of the moon;

and ye intangible inhabitants of the world of Night;

O people, O denizens of the tombs, all of you approach and be my witnesses and respondents,

Let the hand raised against my form be withered;

Let them be destroyed who attack my name, my foundation, my effigies, the images like unto me.

If Egypt’s magic gave them power over nature’s laws can we take them lightly?

Also look into the Cleopatra Tomb Curse.

After news of the curse, collectors of Egyptian artifacts began to send them into the British museums.

Few articles received had a return address or name.

“Scare gifts”

The priestess of Aman-Ra

Pictures taken of the Casket placed in a cabinet

the glass turned to dust

They found what was assumed to be a poisonous dust.

Although it defies analysis

Later it was blamed on a virus

Egyptians inherited the religion of Babylon.

Mystery Babylon

The Ancient Mystery Schools claim to have brought some of this forward

The Bible speaks of Pharaoh’s priest turning staves into snakes

Magic is to old to be explained away by tricks

highly educated scientific men

psychological impression

sent spirits forth from the body

read the secrets of the soul

employed music

perfected embalming the dead

Priests said to possess these power

walk the air

handle fire

live under water

read the past

see the future

harmlessly suffer mutilation

make themselves invisible

cure disease

Compare to Mystics of Tibet

tree withered by a pointed finger

dead raised to life

man surrounded by a blue aura

man lifted into the air by pure mental effort

Plato and Pythagorus were initiated into the Egyptian Mysteries

They said that the initiated priest was able to manipulate the seen and unseen to his will

the highest form of magic was the worship of the gods

able to ascend to a higher state and understanding in which high feats of magic were possible

Alister Crowley said the same thing.

Gen. Pike: the absolute science of nature and it’s laws

from this knowledge arises occult science

from this knowledge arises the theurgic arts

(more on Albert Pike later)

Men like Crowley have proven that the Mysteries have been passed down through the ages.

These arts are kept by those who call themselves the Guardians of the Secrets of the Ages.

“Just Wake Up”

#conspiracy #mystery babylon #bill cooper #nwo

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flintsjohn · 6 years

Text

I know fuck all about the us military, us geography, or how pride is organized in america but hey, this @roswellprompts prompt was too good to pass, so just... suspended disbelief, yeah? also slight canon divergence, obviously.

Alex is in the base’s canteen picking at his lunch when the news about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell being repealed flash on the television. He snaps to attention when an excited yell raises from a corner of the room, and he immediately focuses on the small tv. His breath catches in his lungs and he sits there for the longest of moments, a wave of relief crashing into him full force. He’s only able to stop staring at the tv when someone claps him on the shoulder, and his attention is caught by one of his fellow airmen.

“Manes! You seeing this?” Williams asks with a grin on his face, his excitement spreading quickly to Alex, who still can’t do much more than nod. Technically, nobody knows about him, but in the months he’s been stationed here, he got to know these men, he’s connected with them, and with a few he found a particular link that is only ever there when you’re hiding the same secret – Williams is one of those. They exchange a few more words, and agree to meet again later that night.

When Alex walks into the rec room, it’s to find the rest of their little group all discussing something excitedly, speaking one over the other in their eagerness. He smiles from the door, enjoying the moment, before he moves to sit on the one free chair.

“Oh hey, Manes, you’re here!” Arnold says, clapping him on the back before he starts filling him in, “So we were thinking, Albuquerque Pride is only a few weeks away, and we might be able to get leave for the day, and we can- Are you ok?”

Alex swallows, trying to smile at his friends. “I – You guys want to go to Pride? Together?”

They all shrug at him, like it’s something obvious. Next to him, Williams pipes up, “You’ve never been? Not even before?”

Alex just shakes his head, fidgeting with the zip of his sweatshirt.

“It’s ok if you’re not ready, you know?” Arnold says gently, his hand still on Alex’s back.

“No, I –“ Alex sighs and shakes his head decidedly, “I want to. So, how are we getting there?”

The other men all grin at him when he looks up and Carver, the last guy in their group, claps his hands together. “Road trip!”

Alex still can’t quite believe he’s actually at Pride. He looks around in awe and he’s pretty sure he’s going to be overwhelmed by the sense of freedom he’s feeling before the parade even starts. He can’t do much more than follow his friends through the crowd as they try to find a good spot. They’ve stopped at the entrance of a bar, debating whether to go in to get something to drink before the event, when Alex freezes and turns back towards the crowd. For a moment, he’s sure he’s dreaming. A large part of him agreed to come because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t meet anyone he knew, let alone him.

But no. The longer he stares, the more his mind catches up to the idea that he’s actually looking at Michael Guerin in the flesh, his arm around Isobel Evans’ shoulders as he laughs at something she said. Distantly, he can hear Williams call for him, but all he can focus on is how good Michael looks. He’s in a black tank top and simple Bermudas, a bi pride flag tied around his neck. Next to him, Isobel is wearing the same pride colors on her dress, and isn’t that something?

Williams finally comes up to him to shake him and ask if something is wrong, loudly calling his name, and that’s when Alex and Michael’s eyes lock together. All the air rushes out of Alex’s lungs and then he’s moving on autopilot, crashing into Michael’s open arms with a badly concealed sob, and he knows he’s clinging but he can’t really bring himself to care or stop.

“Alex?” Michael’s whisper is full of confusion, but he hugs him back anyway, giving him time to pull himself back together.

He lets Michael go after a moment, raising his head to meet his eyes, his cheeks coloring. “Hi.”

They stare at each other in awe for a second, and then both Isobel and Alex’s friends are loudly asking for introductions and explanations. Alex shrugs at the look on his friends’ faces and flashes a tiny, private smile at Michael before turning to Isobel.

“Hey, Isobel. I didn’t know you were-“

She waves him off and places her hands on her hips, her eyes flying between him and Michael. “Alex, it’s nice to see you, don’t get me wrong, but- what the hell was that about?”

Alex blushes furiously, suddenly becoming very interested in his own shoes. Next to him, Michael clears his throat. “Iz, remember when we came out to each other?”

“Duh.”

“And I said something about a guy in high school and him being the reason I figured it out-“ Michael leaves the words hanging, and when Alex raises his head again he and Isobel are busy having a conversation with the sole use of their eyebrows. It takes a minute, but then Isobel breathes out a small oh.

Alex smiles sheepishly at her and shrugs. Then, Williams clears his throat pointedly, and he snaps to attention. “Right. Guys, this is Michael and Isobel. We went to high school together. Michael and I were…” he pauses, trying to find the best word, finally settling on a lame, “together. Michael, Isobel, this is John, Matt, and Zack,” he continues, pointing to Williams, Arnold and Carver in turn, ��We serve together in the Air Force.”

It’s a surreal experience, to say the least, to watch as his two worlds clash together like these. His ex-almost-never-really-boyfriend and his sister shaking hands with his friends from the military. Alex feels something warm spread through him and it takes him a moment to recognize it as what it truly is – happiness. For the first time in a long, long time he’s actually, genuinely happy.

Isobel immediately starts a conversation with the three airmen, and Alex finds himself gravitating towards Michael again, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from reaching out. Turns out, he doesn’t have to worry, because Michael reaches out himself and tugs him close until their foreheads are touching.

“Two years,” he starts, his voice low and raw, “And this is how we meet? You’re full of surprises, Manes.”

Alex smiles, reaching up to cup Michael’s face. “A lot has changed, you know.” The words and the weight of their history together hang heavily between them for a second, before Alex continues, “And we should talk. But… I missed you.”

Alex feels Michael’s breath hitch, and between one breath and the next they’re kissing, like the past two years never happened, like they’re at the UFO Emporium in Roswell again, like they don’t have an audience that immediately make themselves heard.

When they separate, Alex is only vaguely aware of his friends wolf-whistling and cheering for him. His attention is all on Michael and on the huge grin on his face that he’s sure matches his own, even though they’ve both teared up a little. Michael takes a step back, only to clasp Alex’s hand in his and tangle their fingers together. “March with me?”

Instead of replying, Alex reaches up to Michael’s neck, disentangling the knot on the flag so he can wrap it around both of their shoulders, and then promptly grabs Michael’s hand again, his free hand firmly fisted in the flag’s fabric. They fall into step like that when the parade starts, Alex’s friends and Isobel following a few steps behind to give them something resembling privacy. Alex doesn’t let go of Michael’s hand all day.

#roswell nm #rnm fic #malex #malex fic #roswellprompts #idk guys.....idk i just love them and want them to be happy at pride is that too much to ask #you can pry out and proud iz and michael from my cold dead hands thanks #i realize actually finding someone you know in a parade is unrealistic bc i took ages to find my friends but skjdh just go with it #my writing #my ficlets

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leiascully · 6 years

Text

Fic: Between A Rock And A Hard Place (Part Two)

Timeline: Season 10 (replaces My Struggle in the All The Choices We’ve Made ‘verse - Visitor + Resident + etc.) Rating: PG Characters: Mulder, Scully, Tad O’Malley, Sveta (established MSR) Content warning: canon-typical body horror (mentions of abduction, forced pregnancy, etc.) A/N: I’m collecting all the related stories that go with Visitor/Resident under the title “All The Choices We’ve Made”, because it felt right at the time. This story is an alternate My Struggle that reflects M&S’ growth/change in the ATCWM ‘verse. I’m weaving canon dialogue into the stories in an attempt to keep the reframing plausibly in line with canon.

Part One

In the morning, Mulder texts Skinner: "We're in." They get a call ten minutes later, while they're lingering over their coffee.

"You're on speaker," Mulder tells Skinner, putting the phone on the table between them.

"You've been excused from your regular duties today," Skinner says gruffly. "You will meet Mr. O'Malley on Pennsylvania Avenue at 10 a.m. near the National Gallery of Art. He'll provide transportation offsite to meet the subject."

They exchange looks over the table.

"Sounds a little cloak and dagger," Mulder says.

"Mr. O'Malley insists on taking precautions," Skinner says.

"At least he doesn't seem likely to blow up the car while we're in it," Scully murmurs.

"Don't judge a talk show host by his cover," Mulder murmurs back.

"Agents?" Skinner says, just a touch of tension in his voice. He is probably being watched. They are always being watched. Pressure comes from the top and Skinner, Atlas-like, has borne the brunt of it so that they could dart between the shadows, bringing light to the darkness.

"We'll be there," Mulder says, and ends the call. He leans back in his chair. "What's the dress code for subterfuge?"

"I doubt it's black tie," Scully says. "I'm still wearing a suit."

"Come on, Scully, we're out of the office," he teases. "You've got an opportunity to break out the leather pants and the badass jacket."

She raises an eyebrow at him. "I was saving those for your birthday."

"That's better," he says immediately.

"I thought you'd think so," she tells him.

They're at the appointed place at the appointed time. Mulder squints through his sunglasses up and down the street. "Tad O'Malley isn't very prompt."

"I imagine he's the sort of man who likes to make an entrance," Scully says, crossing her arms.

"What do you mean by that?" Mulder teases. "You thinking of anyone in particular?"

"Of course not," Scully demurs with a smile. She glances toward the Capitol. "You know, Mulder, I hate to admit it, but something about this feels good." She looks at him. "Most of it feels like we're being taken for a ride, but part of me welcomes this."

"I know what you mean," he says.

She sighs. "Something else to discuss in therapy."

"The thrill of the chase is real, Scully," he says. "You can't blame your brain for enjoying the rush."

"I know," she says. "I just thought I'd...outgrown it, maybe."

"All the more reason some part of you craves it," he says. "Recapturing our misspent youth."

"I don't want to be most comfortable with my back against the wall," she says wryly. "And yet, here we are."

"With your back against the wall, you always know where you stand," he says, and a black limousine pulls up to the curb. The door opens and Tad O'Malley unfolds himself from the back seat. He's tall, even taller than he looked on television, and dressed like he's heading to a conference where he's the keynote speaker. Scully in her suit looks perfectly appropriate next to him. She shoots Mulder the tiniest smirk. He straightens his shoulders under his jacket and extends his hand.

"Fox Mulder," O'Malley says warmly, shaking Mulder's hand.

"That's quite a coincidence - that's my name," Mulder says just as warmly. "What are the odds?"

O'Malley makes a finger gun. "They told me you were sharp."

Mulder shrugs pleasantly. "It's a sharp world."

"Indeed it is," O'Malley says. He shakes Scully's hand. "Agent Scully."

"You make quite an entrance, Mr. O'Malley," she says.

"She's shot men with less provocation," Mulder jokes.

"Funny," O'Malley says.

"Did they tell you I was funny?" Mulder asks.

"Of course," O'Malley says. "A regular one-man show. Join me for a little ride?"

Mulder exchanges sideways looks with Scully underneath their sunglasses. He expected a show, but the limo is a bit much. "Right here is fine. I'm afraid I'm not dressed for a limousine."

"Allow me my small precautions," O'Malley says, gesturing to the open door of the car. "Low-flying aircraft often use what they call 'dirtboxes' to record conversations that I would prefer stayed private."

Mulder glances at the sky. There's a kid with a kite and the faraway glint of a commercial jet, but no drones, nothing hovering.

"Aircraft employed by whom?" Scully asks, arms still crossed. She leans back slightly on her heels. Mulder can see the glint of her ring on her left hand where it's tucked under her right arm. He wondered if she'd wear it.

"I'm afraid I can only speculate," O'Malley says, as pleasantly as if they'd asked him what the weather was or whether the Cubs would win the World Series. "Shall we?"

He folds himself back into the car. Scully shrugs imperceptibly, looking at Mulder, and they follow O'Malley in, taking off their sunglasses. The interior of the car is dark, the windows tinted probably beyond the legal limit. The partition is up between the driver and the passenger compartment, but even if it's two against three, Mulder likes those odds. He and Scully are strapped and they're scrappy. They've handled worse than O'Malley.

The limo is suitably appointed, luxurious almost to the point of parody. O'Malley reaches into a high hat full of ice and pulls out of a bottle of champagne, offering it to them like a maitre d'.

"None for me, thanks," Mulder says. "Scully?"

She shakes her head. "Mr. O'Malley, your precautions would seem to imply that you have enemies."

"Not of my own choosing, Dana," O'Malley says, his teeth bright as he smiles. He pops the cork and pours himself a glass of champagne. "Truth tellers will always face opposition, as I'm sure you know.

She inclines her head in what might be a nod. Mulder turns toward the window. The old habits come back fast; he can sense her next to him, poised to act if necessary. The city slides by outside and he presses the button to roll down the window. Nothing happens.

"Your windows are broken," he says. "That's a shame. It's a little stuffy in here."

"Oh, those don't roll down by design," O'Malley says, that salesman's grin still wide. "I had the vehicle bulletproofed."

"Sure," Mulder says. "All those gun-toting liberals in the Whole Foods parking lot. What if there's a run on quinoa?"

"How can we help you, Mr. O'Malley?" Scully interrupts.

"I know the briefing you received was brief," O'Malley says, turning the charm on her again. "I also know you've been out of the game a long time. But I'm not some Johnny-come-lately to UFO-related phenomena. I'm a true believer like yourselves."

Scully ducks her head. "I wouldn't categorize myself as a true believer."

"Nor would I," Mulder says. "I want to believe, but actual concrete proof has been strangely hard to come by. Not that that matters much these days. Anyone can claim to be an expert on the internet."

"Sometimes they even give you your own show," O'Malley says, still genial. Mulder can feel the prickle of Scully's disapproval, but O'Malley rubs him the wrong way. "I guarantee if you still ran the X-Files, you'd have a platform bigger than you can imagine."

"Perhaps," Scully says. "But for better or for worse, Mr. O'Malley, those days are behind us. We're off the paranormal beat, so to speak."

"I could give that all back to you," O'Malley says, leaning forward. He's only looking at Scully now. She gazes back, that enigmatic mask in place.

"Mr. O'Malley, how does a man with your conservative credentials come to consider himself a true believer in UFOs and 9/11 false flag conspiracies?"

O'Malley turns away from Scully, but Mulder can tell he doesn't have the man's full attention. "I take it you think my message is disingenuous?"

"Conspiracy sells," Mulder says. "It didn't in the 90s, but it's a hot property now. It pays for bulletproof limousines, among other things."

O'Malley's smile gets sharper. "You think I do it for the ratings?"

Mulder shrugs. "I think you're The O'Reilly Factor with a shopworn little gimmick. I think you're 4chan with a cable contract."

O'Malley snorts. "What Bill O'Reilly knows about the truth could fill an eyedropper."

"At least we agree on that," Mulder says pleasantly.

"Try me," O'Malley says.

Mulder taps one finger to his lip. "The Kelly Cahill incident."

"Kelly Cahill and her husband were driving home in Victoria, Australia when a craft appeared overhead. The Cahills lost an hour of time and Kelly was hospitalized with severe stomach pain after discovering a triangle-shaped mark near her navel," O'Malley recites. "As I said, my interest is real. What I need is your expertise."

"Our expertise for what?" Scully asks.

"I know what you've been through," O'Malley says. "Both of you."

"With all due respect, Mr. O'Malley," Scully says deliberately, "I doubt that's true."

"You're right," he says. "My apologies. I've heard the rumors. I've read the reports. I used to subscribe to The Lone Gunmen. Between your histories and your experience in law enforcement, you have the skills and knowledge I need."

"And why should we put those skills at your disposal?" Scully asks, ignoring the rest.

O'Malley leans forward, the flute of champagne dangling from his fingers. "I'm rattling some pretty big cages in the intelligence community, but I'm prepared to go all in. I'm prepared to blow open maybe the most evil conspiracy the world has ever known."

"That's quite an assertion, given the history of the world," Scully returns cooly. "What's stopping you from exposing this conspiracy? I assume your following would support you."

"If I'm putting my ass out there, I need to know I've got backing I can depend on," O'Malley tells her. "My viewers are with me, but like I said, these are big cages, and the players in them don't care about ratings. They know how to make people disappear."

"So does David Blaine," Mulder murmurs.

O'Malley ignores him, still looking at Scully. "I've got something to show you...and someone."

The limousine glides out of the city as they sit in silence. O'Malley sips at his champagne and checks his phone. Mulder and Scully glance at each other. Mulder shrugs and takes out his own phone, scrolling through Twitter and checking his usual news sites. Scully looks out the window. After nearly four hours of turning onto increasingly narrow roads, the limo makes one last right onto a gravel path that reminds Mulder of the driveway of the house they lived in when they first moved back, before the case with the priest and the organ trafficking. They might as well be going nowhere. Google Maps tells him they're in or near Low Moor, although there's not any signal. It's as good as he's going to get.

The limo pulls to a stop outside a small dingy house and Mulder hears the locks release. He opens the door and steps out, stretching. He offers Scully a hand out. She accepts it, surprising him, and slips her sunglasses back on.

"Aliens couldn't find this place," she says, as if aliens didn't find Skyland Mountain. "How did you, Mr. O'Malley?"

O'Malley smirks. "A man in my position finds himself contacted by interesting strangers."

"I imagine that's true," Mulder murmurs, lurking at Scully's shoulder, in his best for-your-ears-only voice. O'Malley can probably hear, but even in broad daylight, he's always felt like he and Scully have a back channel, code talkers communicating sub rosa. They walk toward the house. Mulder tries not to saunter like he's in a Western, strolling up to the local bar. The door of the house swings open and he automatically reaches for his gun and stops himself. He sees Scully flinch the same way.

"Everyone," O'Malley says in a self-important voice, "meet Sveta."

Sveta lingers just outside the doorway. She is young and lovely, vulnerable-looking, her skin dark brown and her black hair falling around her face. She looks at them as if she is not quite sure whether to bolt. That's the usual attitude of the people they interview. Mulder relaxes slightly. She looks exactly like the person O'Malley might have chosen to be a smokescreen for his flimflam, but she's nervous too. Somehow, that's a comfort.

"Sveta, this is Dana Scully and Fox Mulder," O'Malley says. Everyone shakes hands. Sveta's only tremble a little.

"Hello," Sveta says formally. Her voice doesn't shake. She's got a Midwestern standard accent. Not a lot of clues there. "Welcome to my home."

"Sveta suggested I call you," O'Malley tells them, standing next to her.

"You probably don't recognize me," Sveta says, looking at Mulder. "You interviewed me and my family when I was just a little girl. Right after my first abduction."

"I'm sorry," Mulder says. "I don't remember."

"We lost the majority of our files in a fire a number of years ago," Scully says. "Yours might have been among them."

"It's all right," Sveta says. "I'm sure you've been through a lot since then. Please, come in."

Scully looks at Mulder and follows Sveta in. Mulder follows her, his hand hovering near the small of her back. O'Malley brings up the rear, closing the door. Sveta pulls up her shirt. There are six circular scars around her navel. Scully leans forward.

"May I?" she asks.

"Of course," Sveta says, and Scully peers closely at the marks. "These are from over twenty years. I've lost count of how many times I've been abducted."

"The scoop-mark scars are classic," O'Malley says. "As I'm sure you know. And then there are the memories implanted over actual memories to make the abductees forget."

"We call them screen memories," Sveta says.

"I'm familiar with the phenomenon," Scully says dryly. She straightens up slowly.

"Things come back to me sometimes," Sveta tells her, letting her shirt fall back over her stomach.

"What kind of things?" Scully asks. Mulder recognizes the gentleness in her voice. It's the one she always saved for the times they had to interrogate children.

"Tests," Sveta says in a small voice. "Harvesting." She gestures toward her pelvis.

"Harvesting your ova?" Scully asks.

Sveta looks at O'Malley. He nods. "Yes," she says. "They made me pregnant. But they took the babies before they were born. They tried to take the memories, but I remember. I remember the lights. I remember the way my body changed. They do everything through here." She points at the scars.

"Tell them about your DNA, Sveta," O'Malley says in a hypnotic voice.

"I have alien DNA," Sveta says. "For sure. They take the babies out through here. They put the DNA in."

Scully glances at Mulder. "Have you had a doctor confirm that?"

"No," Sveta says. "I couldn't be sure that any doctor I visited wasn't one of Them." Mulder can hear the capital letter when she says it. Them. He used to talk the same way.

"Is that something you could test, Scully?" he asks.

Scully stares at him. He can sense her reticence. There is something childlike about Sveta, for all that she's an adult. One way or another, O'Malley is manipulating her. They have sacrificed enough children to this quest. He thinks back to the clones of his sister on the farm with the bees, the red-headed scientists in the facility where Scully's ova were stored. Emily. William. Uncounted others.

At last, Scully nods. "I'll examine you myself, Sveta," she says. "If that's all right."

"Thank you," Sveta says fervently, her hands clasped. Mulder knows the light in her eyes. Sveta, at least, is a true believer.

#xfiles fic #xf alternate season 10 #the x-files fic #xfiles season 10 fic #mulder x scully #xf revival #my fic #atcwm verse

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littlefoxywrites · 6 years

Text

Big Sky Country (Montana)

A/N- Set this whenever you want. Early seasons, later seasons, reboot, I saw it around season five-ish. The store’s been there since before I can remember, and while it’s not known for ghosts, the Pollard and the Smith Mine site are. Sorry for taking so long, lol. This morphed from a Thanksgiving story, to Christmas, to New Year’s, to Valentine’s, but at least it’s not a St. Patrick’s Day story. I’ll leave that to someone else (;

“Scully! Come here.”

She walked over to her partner, raising an eyebrow in the process. “What?”

He nodded towards a building across the street. “I think should investigate. It’s old enough to be the home base of the paranor-“

‘A candy store, Mulder, really?” She ducked away from a wildly waving flag. The main street had been lined with American flags and decked in pine boughs.

“Yeah!” He adjusted his collar and grinned at her. “Come on, Scully. It’ll be fun.”

She sighed and looked across the street. Red Lodge was cold, snowy, windy, and- apparently- the source of most of Montana’s UFO activity. She thought the X-Files had moved past unsubstantiated UFO sightings and onto more concrete conspiracies, but Mulder had insisted upon a weekend of ghost hunting and sky searching in the snow, and someone had approved the estimated budget.

Montana Candy Emporium.

“Sure.” She pushed a flapping flag out of her face. “Fine. Whatever.” Anything to get out of the sleet. Her coat was warm, but it wasn’t meant to be frozen and soaked simultaneously, and neither was she. Mulder offered his arm as they crossed the street. It was icy, and the snow was coming down faster than the plows and grit trucks could manage.

He had been so excited to come. He’d shown her slide after slide about the Smith Mine and the Pollard Hotel and the ghost stories that came with them. There had been countless accounts of UFOs rising over the Beartooth Mountains, and a few old cases of unexplained disappearance that Scully put down to early cowboy justice.

So here they were, mere weeks into the new year. The candy store had a wooden front like an old theater, complete with the billboard. She pulled the door open and warm air gusted out, defrosting her nose. Mulder reached over her head and held the door, waving her in.

“Look, Scully!” Mulder picked a jar of pastel candy up from a shelf and rotated it so she could see the garish label. “It’s a sign."

“Fizzy UFOs?” She began peeling her chilled gloves off.

“Or. . . you know, hold on.” He moved further into the shop, easing past a group of teens in Carhartt crowding around a glass cabinet. The hardwood creaked under his weight. “How about this?” He had a box of bubblegum cigarettes. “Doctor approved?”

“I doubt your dentist would agree.”

He could see the amusement in the fine lines of her expression, even as she fought to clamp it down. She looked down to shove her gloves into her pockets and unbutton her coat. For all the cold outside, the shop was warm, bordering on tropical, filled as it was by students and tourists alike.

The bubblegum was forgotten as Mulder’s gaze caught on a large display of European candies. “Scully, you’re not gonna believe this, but I haven’t seen this stuff since I was at Oxford. Salted liquorice. . . Fox’s. . .”

“Foxes?” Scully stepped forward to see the packet, expecting a fox-shaped candy.

“Fox’s Glacier. They make mints and fruity hard candy. I mean, it’s the same kind of thing we have here, except for the blackcurrant ones. For some reason, I guess America never really got into the blackcurrant thing.”

Scully listened to him ramble about blackcurrants and Montana huckleberry, an apparent local favorite. Mulder’s nose was red with the cold, his hair damp with melting snow. She resisted the urge to reach over and brush it off. Instead, she unwrapped her scarf and fluffed her hair with her fingers, melting the last of the hoarfrost that had formed near her face.

“Scully?”

She looked up and found a curious expression on his face.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “Just, you drifted off.”

“It’s been known to happen.”

He grinned. “Sure, whatever.”

“Sure, fine, whatever. You missed one.”

“Can’t have that.” He peered over her, back out the window. “Tell you what, let’s cut out early today. We aren’t going to get anything done in that.”

She turned and looked back out the window. Sure enough, the snow was coming down harder, coming sideways harder, if she were honest. “I expected more from the New Englander.”

“It wasn't windy like this out East.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hmm. That seems like a flimsy excuse, Mulder.”

“Would you rather be in a warm candy store across the street from our hotel or out there ghostbusting near the mines in negative temperatures?”

When he put it that way. “Let’s see what they have back here.” She let her fingers tangle with his as she led him through barrels of taffy. Here, in Montana, nearly two-thousand miles from DC, and several dozen from the nearest field bureau, she didn’t mind the public gestures. Their black wool coats and leather shoes marked them as outsiders, but beyond that, no one knew or cared.

They wandered the store slowly. Mulder picked up a brown paper bag and was filling it with a wild variety of processed and dyed sugar as he recounted ghost stories. Candy corn in January, cow-tails, the squirrel nut zippers that Scully vividly remembered from her childhood, huckleberry jelly bears, and two of nearly every flavor of taffy.

“How about this? Extra hot taffy. Should I bring some back for the Skinman, or do you think we spice up his workdays enough already?”

Scully shrugged. “Capsaicin is said to reduce blood pressure in high enough quantities.”

“In that case-“ Mulder was about to plunge his hand back in the barrel when Scully stopped him.

“I’m talking high quantities as in thousands of ghost peppers’ worth of capsaicin.”

“Oh.” He grimaced. “I’m no longer interested in the health benefits of capsaicin.”

“Sex lowers blood pressure, too. Orgasm in women releases oxytocin, which-“ she paused and cleared her throat as Mulder glanced over in surprise. “Lowers blood pressure via vasodilation,” she finished quietly.

“Is that where your mind wandered to earlier, Agent Scully? Sex?” He grinned at her, slightly bemused by her sudden self-consciousness.

She shrugged again, looking down at their joined hands. “No, Agent Mulder.” She added the same emphasis on his title. Two could play that game. “I was thinking along lines somewhat more germane to our investigation.”

“Yeah?” He couldn’t quite tell if she was bullshitting him, but he suspected she was.

“We’re primarily here to investigate the disappearance of a Lutheran pastor, are we not?”

“Yeah, technically. He disappeared from his apartment over this shop-“

“In 1956, Mulder.”

“Yeah, but I showed you all those reports of electrical issues and noises from upstairs. They’re ongoing. That apartment hasn’t been rented out since-“

“1994, I know, and it’s locked. The realtor told me over the phone. She hasn’t give the key to anyone, and she has the only copy as far as she’s aware, and she’s out of town this weekend.” Scully fingered a coconut long-boy. “I was thinking, there’s probably a stairwell going from the back of this place to the apartment. At one point, that apartment was intended as the shopowner’s home, and it only makes sense to have an internal entrance.”

“The back. . .” Mulder looked up at the striped curtain drawn across the wide hallway to the back rooms of the emporium. He glanced towards the front again, where the employees seemed to be busy with the Carhartt kids and a new group by the fudge window. He set the brown bag of candy down behind a basket of Atomic Fireballs. “They probably don’t want merchandise back there,” he said calmly. “C’mon, Scully.”

He led her with purpose. Over the years he’d found that acting like he owned something- a stolen ID, a crime scene- got him further than asking. He flipped back the curtain, high enough for Scully to pass under, and then dropped it, enveloping them in darkness.

“Scu-“

There was a click and her face suddenly lit up with an eerie glow. She lifted her flashlight away from her chin as he jumped back. “Gotcha.” She smiled, then cast the beam around them. “Doesn’t look too exciting.” There were more barrels, cardboard boxes with confectionary labels, and a cramped folding table.

Mulder stepped up to the table and Scully let the light follow him. “Cards, maybe a. . .” he flicked something across the table. “A little bit of Mary-Jane.” He wandered away and Scully followed, smiling. There were rows of boxes on shelves, sealed tight. She watched as Mulder ducked behind a tower of boxes and pushed a shelf to the side to tap a door with his knuckle. “Nice call, Scully. It doesn’t look like this has been moved in ages.” The wall behind the shelving was darker, the wood varnish unfaded. The glint of the doorknob in the torch light must have caught Mulder’s eye, she realized.

“Mm.” She stepped up to the door and twisted the knob, then pulled it open. The shelf blocked it from opening more than a few inches, but it was enough for her to squeeze through. She paused partway, braced herself on the doorway, and shoved it open a little further. “Come on in, the water’s fine, I think.” She swept her light over the area behind her. There was just a dusty staircase that looked utterly untouched.

Mulder eased in behind her and looked up. “Hey baby, you wanna?”

She snorted. “Sure.” This time, she led the way up the stairs. There was another door at the top, unlocked, and Scully’s hopes fell. It probably dumped out outside the apartment, in the entry hallway. She tried it nevertheless, and blinked in the bright light that flooded in.

“Scully?”

“I think we’re in the apartment. The door-” she turned to look at it. “It’s disguised to look the wall. I can see how someone missed it with all the grooves in the wood panelling."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She clicked her flashlight off and stepped into the small living room. “It’s stopped snowing.” Her heels clicked on the floor as she crossed to the window and drew the gauzy curtain back slightly. The sun had cut through the clouds and the snow had slowed to a vertical descent once again. “It looks like diamond dust in the air.”

“Beautiful.”

She glanced up at her partner, who was decidedly not looking out. “Muld-err.”

“I mean, yeah, the snow’s nice, too.”

She dropped the curtain and stepped back. “Hm.”

He cupped one cheek with his hand and let the other fall to her waist. “Are you still cold?”

She wasn’t, not really. “Yes.”

“Hmm. Gotta do something about that.” He kept his hands on her and walked her back to the sofa he’d spotted among the furniture that had all been pushed to the wall.

She reached up to begin unbuttoning his trench, working on his shirt at the same time. “Here? Really?”

“Well, someone’s got to keep the local ghost stories going, and what better way than mysterious noises from locked apartments?”

She snorted. “Not the best pick-up I’ve heard, but one of the more unique ones.”

“It’s better than the one I told you right before Skinner walked i-“

“I’ve blocked that from my memory. Shush.” Scully rose on her toes to press her lips to his, stopping the flow of words. When she dropped back to her heels, Mulder began stripping her outerwear off in earnest.

She yelped involuntarily as his cold fingers brushed her ribs. “Jesus, Mulder!"

He paused long enough to grin at her. “Payback for all those times you stuck your ice-block feet between my calves.”

He certainly wasn’t joking about the mysterious noises, she realized. There was some jostling as he gathered her up in his arms, then balanced her between him and some covered furniture.

“We’re going to have the shopkeepers up here if we keep this up,” she mumbled into his mouth.

He broke the kiss. “I think we’ll hear ‘em coming up the stairs. They were kind of creaky.”

“Mm, so are you.” She thought about unbuttoning her shirt, then merely pulled it up from her slacks. Mulder’s hands ghosted up her sides again, and he slipped his fingers past her underwire. He could feel goosebumps rising on her breasts, from cold or arousal he didn’t know.

She tightened her legs around his waist. “I hope your shirt isn’t dry clean only,” she mumbled. She kept one hand on his neck and ran her free fingers through his hair.

Mulder pulled back, and for a moment she thought he actually was worried about her slushy boots on his hips. “Scully.”

“Hm?” Her hips jerked forward against him involuntarily. She could feel her gluteals tense, and fought for control again.

“We’re in a haunted apartment, Skinner’s nowhere in the vicinity, and you’re worried about my shirt?”

She laughed aloud. “I see your point.”

He leaned in again and kissed her quickly. “What if we headed out of here?”

“Mul-der!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at her. Her hair was wind-whipped, cheeks wind-chapped, and she had a damp glow from the snow that had melted in her hair and collar.

“What the fuck?” She was cross enough to swear at him for having interrupted.

“Exactly.” He leaned and kissed her again. “I don’t want us to cross Montana off up against a wall.” The map with the little star stickers was in his desk drawer. The locking one. “Not-“ He moved lower, butterflying kisses along her jaw. “When we have a-“ He licked the edge of the thick muscle on her neck. It had some long name that he never remembered. “A beautiful hotel room in a haunted hotel.”

“Oh my God,” she muttered in frustration. “Of course.” She shivered as he nipped her collarbone. “Ah!”

He glanced up in time to see her eyes roll back slightly. She reached between them and fumbled his free hand back out of her pants.

“Mulder, you can’t keep doing that and then stop and ask me to walk back outside. It’s worse than a cold shower.”

He chuckled then. “Well then, let’s go, because I want to keep doing that, as soon as possible.”

She huffed in mock annoyance, but unlocked her legs from his waist and slipped back down to the floor. She didn’t bother fixing her rumpled shirt, merely buttoned her coat over it. A few moments later, Agent Scully, MD, had re-emerged. She reached up and rubbed her thumb against the corner of Mulder’s mouth. “'Toast to New York' isn’t your color.”

“Are you sure? Maybe we should check again.”

She rested her hand over his lips with a smile. “If we start that again we’ll never get out of here. We can check the color when we’re back at the Pollard.” She dropped her hand to his chest and began fastening the buttons on his own coat. Wary of the lipstick, she rose on her toes to kiss him again, then pulled him towards the door of the apartment. They descended the stairs quietly, and slipped into the dark back room. Mulder pushed the shelving unit back in front of the door as Scully slipped her damp gloves back on. No one noticed them sliding past the curtain between the private and public parts of the store. If anything, there were more people crowding into the sugary warmth of the shop than before.

“Scully?”

“Hmm?” She raised one eyebrow curiously.

“Can we stop to get the candy?” Mulder actually looked completely serious.

She chuckled. “And here I thought-“

He looked down, flushing slightly. “Yeah, I know. I actually do miss Fox’s-“

“Sure, Mulder. That’s fine.” She caught his grin and smiled back. “Whatever.” He laughed. “Tell you what. Since we’re going to get held up in the line, we might as well pick up some fudge. It’s apparently made in house, and I bet it melts if it makes skin contact for too long. It’s real chocolate and butter, not your nonfat tofutti." He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “I can think of all sorts of things to do with real-“

She fought the flush rising on her cheeks. “Mulder!” She snuck glances at him as they waited in line, then finally sighed and gave in. “Fine. Just pick something that won’t permanently dye my skin.”

“No M&Ms then.”

“No,” she said firmly.

He scans the window, examining slabs of fudge like she does specimen slides. “Does this one look like Elvis to you?”

She raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe not red velvet, either, then.”

“No.”

“Aww, Scully,” he muttered half-heartedly, before glancing back at her. “Tell you what. Classic milk chocolate for a classic girl.”

She laughed aloud and didn’t bother hiding her smile. “Okay, Mulder.” She paused, remembering how they were in Montana, in a snowstorm, hundreds of miles from anyone of import to her, then reached for his hand and laced her fingers between his. When he looked down in surprise, she shrugged. “I don’t want the sequel to begin with your icy fingers.”

“Cold hands, warm heart?”

“From a physiologic standpoint, I’d have to say no, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Speaking of physiology, maybe we could continue the lesson across the street?”

She hummed quietly as he passed bills to the cashier and took their paper bags of processed sugar. “I was thinking we could move onto anatomy this afternoon, maybe you’d have better luck with the change of subject.”

Mulder swung their joined hands as they stepped back into the sparkling cold of the street. “I got an A in anatomy in high school.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to see how much you remember.”

Mulder chuckled as they crossed the street. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Scully. Pop quiz at 1600 hours.”

“Mm, I was thinking more along the lines of an exam, a full-length exam.”

He drew his gaze slowly along her form and ducked a flapping flag. “It’s still going to be a short exam.”

Her mouth dropped open and she glared at him without any real heat. “I didn’t say which one of us would be the examinee. I was thinking it’d be a longer exam, to be honest.”

He held the door to the hotel open and they made their way past the taxidermied moose in the lobby. “I suppose it’s not beyond the realm of extreme possibility.”

Scully hurried up the stairs, taking two steps to every one of Mulder’s. “You know what they say, though. Seeing is believing. And-“ she bumped her shoulder against him. “I really should verify your report.”

The wind howled past the hotel, shaking the electric lines, and filling the big sky with biting swirls of snow. It would pass through Red Lodge, Mulder knew, before rising over the pass to the south, and gusting through the ruins of the Smith Mines. From there, it would tear through Bearcreek, with its supposedly world-famous banana cream pie, and then carry the cold down to Wyoming. Mulder turned his attention to his partner. The wind didn’t matter, nor did the ghost stories and the strange lights at night. He had Scully by his side, and that was the only truth that mattered.

Their ghosts could wait.

#the x files #littlefoxywrites #dana scully #fox mulder #50 states of sex #softnow

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