glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

Through these writings
I hope to survive
I hope to live
I hope to even thrive
You may ask why
I'm doing these vwritings hoping they'll
keep me alive
I'm very ill and it's
taking its toll
on my body and being at times
I'm doing these writings hoping they'll
keep me alive

giving me hope, and joy and light
through the colors and beauty that are drawn and dance
before my eyes.
For in the days I can not get out of bed.
I cling to this art, I'm doing this to get the money

to someday,
get the answers that I have
so dearly prayed.
For my whole life, through all
these tortured, thin thread
when I've nearly died.
Given up the fight,
and released the life,
with in this now disintegrating corpse,
So I cling to the source, the core
that brings me the breath of joy and light
the colors of art I'm able to make,
dancing before my eyes.
So through these writings
I hope to be kept forever alive
I hope to eventually
Through poverty,
through tragedies,
through all these things and needs
inside and surrounding me
I try to save my very beings core
through these hobbies I do hide
and now show you through these videos
I hope that you too can soar,
escape your situations and burdens
and be blessed as I am, or even more
via watching these

Thank You


This vid. Adults ONLY
Written Mon. 1/18/2016
Written on bed, cat on lap < =-)!
just hit me NOW

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

I am silent soul,
crying out my pain,
darkness I have been down
and now that I've seen the light
I'm trying now to scream
In hopes of keeping myself
from drowning.

Suffocation this solitude
keeping myself safe from social society
terror it does rule me
cruel as a king
yet as safe as the soft loving embrace
of depression
protecting me from everything.

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

I wanted to make this perfect
I wanted to say it all
but with life and everything
What I've managed is so small

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

Bullied to silence has been my soul
Crying out my pain
Shivering in the harassment from yesterday,
Frigid it terrorizes my soul,
voices haunt me with their calls
So I dare not show my countenance at all.

Suffocation this solitude
Safe and protective as an embrace
But with darkness so deep I can barely breath
In shame I've been fading
Hiding away

Can't let anyone see me bow down
to physical illness and depression so profound
I can not even shout,
Let the world know I'm about to check out.

So let my silence speak
the volume, depth & breadth of which
has never been seen
pouring out my soul

Silent images dancing across the screen
page painted with
poetic my speech

Summing up (my) existence and eternity
in one word
maybe a few
Drawing them out into lines of words

I've been so (physically) ill
                     (as of late)
I've become ethereal
surpassing my mortal being
and though my body may be collapsing
in increments,
Like losing grains of sand
through the fingers of my hands
My mind is bursting with all I have to say
A mere breath sends it careening in a different –
All directions can't choose
Speak but a mere tip, trifle, from each one,
these are my swan songs
before I swan dive
trying with all my might to get out
a smattering of what's inside.

So through these silent renderings
I speak
Begging please, please, oh please
value and keep these words I paint
for you all this day,
for I have found,
that I can not take,
passing away
with out making these videos
For the world to see what I have to say.

So until I have the social acceptance and boldness to speak
I'll say my words this way.

And hope that you all read and understand
me well enough
to allow me to stay
on earth
for just

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

I've been hurt beyond belief
and I do not dare speak
but I have a lot to say
so I'll get it out this way

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

In the cacophony of life
I am but a mere peep.
or maybe I'm silence itself,
something entirely unnoticed
and IF ever noticed,
something to be vehemently fought against and wiped out.
I feel like that all the time.

10:30a.m. Sat. 5-31-2014 Created

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

Glasses Geek
Silence Speaks
no longer can I keep
it all inside
my lips sewn tight
with all my might
Night has broken
and now I open
to the bright blinding dawn
speaking the awe I've been in so long
(some in pictures, some in words)

Conceived Fri. 10/23/2015  5:45p.m. Kitchen Table Eating Lunch

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

Though I may revisit what I say
I'll post it anyway
For each time I restate
Any item from my brain
it refrains the knowledge that I wish to keep
from being wiped clean like a slate
and each time I reiterate
silent knowledge, locked deep down inside
it pushes the boundaries of my mind
and gives just a bit more info. opening up the edge that much more
helping me explore and learn things I never have known before.

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)

~~~~~~~A rambling, unedited response.~~~~~~~

"I don't mean to give my life story, but sometimes it just happens."


A/N Beginning:

I'm posting this here in hopes that it helps someone else. Maybe through speaking about it someone else may be helped or at least have the people in their life read it and bring them to a bit better understanding of what their going through. It might get the people around you and everyone talking and help out those who are suffering like I have.


If nothing else I hope it brings awareness and at least opens a conversation and helps those who are going through the same or something similar and lets those who are lost know what it's like, so that if it ever happens to you or you notice someone going through something similar, you can know and know what to do/say, or possibly NOT do/say. And yes, you can get PTSD from "everyday life", you don't have to, "be in the military" or involved in other such things to get it. (Initially, the first case of it) I got it from being Harassed at School. =-/!

P.S. – IF YOU FIND THIS HELPFUL AT ALL THEN   C O P Y     T H I S!!!    AND SPREAD IT AROUND! Put it in every website you know, link back to it, what have you!

I WANT-heck NEED this to be spread far and wide to help as many people as possible, whoever they are where ever they are.

I know some of it may be hurtful and I don't mean for it to be, I only mean to HELP and do my best to explain what I've been through and where I'm coming from, and through this SOOTHE HEAL and possibly do my best to get the word out, THAT OUR SOLDIERS AND OTHERS DEALING WITH PTSD and UNDIAGNOSED HEALTH AILMENTS ETC. NEED TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY, NOT CONSIDERED NUTS ( cause their NOT) and HELPED.


(Also, if this story might help then spread it around, Oil

I hope it will do far more then just being stuck in the realms of Fan Fiction and read by only the few and far between, and then only those who are into that particular kind and type of Genre-Fan Stuff/SGA And if ANYONE AT ALL is willing I'd VERY MUCH like to turn this into HELPING EACH OTHER IS THE ONLY THING WE HAVE.

a INDEPENDENT PUBLISHABLE STORY that I can get out there to help even more. =-) !

Heck I'd like to raise money and make it FREE for anyone wanting to read it, right now the only way that is possible is through this Fan Fiction site. =-) )


Love you all and go in peace G.G. =-)

Comment on Oil

        1. niffer on Chapter 9 Tue 20 May 2014 02:33AM EDT

    You asked what made your story seem different:
    I don't think I've read such a realistic and painful experience as Rodney is having with the cancer. Some good stories out there with him dealing with cancer, but its been, "oh he had chemo today and had the barfs, and he's really bald now", but there's not the depth of feeling, the utter shitty-ness and horror of someone dealing with cancer like you've portrayed. John's PTSD is pretty spot on also. I have a son who has PTSD from serving 2 tours in Iraq, so this is something I'm familiar with.


I started responding and it became so LONG decided to post this here, I hope it helps those out there still (or newly, old hat, etc.) suffering and at the very least lets you know you are not alone, I am just like you and many are also.


If there was something better and far more deep and profound that I could say then THANK YOU SO MUCH I would; for the moment though I am at a loss of words and the only thing I have is THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR RESPONSE. (Sorry for being so repetitive, I just can't think of what else to say at the moment, I'll try to get better at that ;-D )

I have been through some very terrible things in my life and was diagnosed with PTSD so I know what it's like. I had a TERRIBLE case of it here in 2007 or so and it lasted for a good five years. It DOES FADE, but it takes time, healing and for me a loss of memory, sadly. At this point in my life I'm thinking the fading away it's biological, the body grows older and is just not capable of reacting to things like it used to, or that's at least what has happened with me.

And I also know, from the household I'm from, what it's like to deal with sick people. My niece, while I was going through some really tough stuff (my poor sister too) was born and was EXTREMELY ILL, she was for two years on her death bead from birth. I had to care for her the first two years of her life and during that time at least the first year year and a half my poor sister was trying not to die as well. I took care of her child while my poor parents (my Mom basically) took care of my sister, so I know what it's like to not sleep ( be allowed to or able to out of terror for someone dying) for an extended period of time. I had to basically "been on watch" you could say, making sure my poor niece was still breathing and alive. She couldn't even cry properly, her "wails" were entirely silent (and she's mute as now thankfully a pre-teen) so I was required to stay awake, constantly checking and keeping my ears SHARP and OPEN 24/7 just to make sure she didn't choke and whatnot.

Also I've been EXTREMELY ILL my whole life with gut troubles, sadly no doctor has taken this seriously and I have nearly died MANY times over =-(!.

So this is where I'm getting the knowledge of the illness from and also John's PTSD.

I have read on a few websites about soldiers PTSD and I'm shocked and a bit surprised to find how similar it is. The sleepless-ness, the inability to calm down/ constantly living off adrenaline, the being awake and alert at all hours. Things just "tipping you off" as I call it, "Triggers" I guess you could call them also. The literal, being "There" instead of here. Literally seeing, feeling, smelling even the other place or time that you were in. Having to GROUND yourself by tactile sensation in the here and now in order to just get your mind to realize your HERE, N O T THERE, and that what you're experiencing is not happening. I've even had one TERRIBLE episode where I was literally "Seeing ghosts" as I called them, where I saw and FELT the people and places from before. They were white as ghosts, pale in color and obviously translucent, playing over the reality, the here and now. Like … have you seen these videos or Wall papers where one image is transposed over another, the tow playing simultaneously?

Yeah, that's what I saw and FELT. At the time I had this happen it was raining out and I had to literally get outside and get down and FEEL the ROUGH concrete beneath my hands and go out into the rain and FEEL the rain on my skin, then sit there like that out in the damn rain for a good 45 minutes before it started to fade away. My Mom and brother found me and my brother started in, saying I was lying, faking it, messed up and what not. My Mom THANKFULLY (was worried, didn't want me to get sick etc. ) but “understood” to the best of her abilities and let me be for a good 30 minutes before she tried to talk to me and get me to come in. I still couldn't and had to wait till I was ready.

Sadly my younger brother watched me go through all this and didn't understand, he really picked on me HARD and he along with my sister told me to quit acting so damn strange and weird, quit being a mental case. They both ended up deciding I was bat shit NUTS =-(! and still don't understand (Thankfully though my brother is a bit better understanding, if still not giving and still HARSH, but at least he's not like he was >X-P! It's all thanks to this article: The R Word If it wasn't for this he would STILL be “ragging on me” >X-P! )

(This is where I got the neighbors and strangers not understanding John and judging him harshly. And also how and why he didn't want to tell them anything, for telling, talking about it literally causes the mind to relive the experiences. I had flashbacks at first when I started trying to write about it and found that for me this was NOT the way to deal with it. BUT I've come to find that I can deal with it through escapism, and “Other means” meaning, I can and NEED to talk about it whether it be through writing or what have you but the ONLY way I have been able to face it and deal with it has been through FICTION and the most fictional for me has been Sci-Fi, and Alien stuff. My Dad is going through that now with his going head first into Alien Abductions, for he himself went through some TERRIBLE things while he was in the navy. =-(! )

I've finally come to learn telling someone, anyone to “get over it” or “just be happy”, “Quit being so depressed” etc. etc. is like telling a mentally handicapped person to “Quit being retarded” it's just flat out … well, DUMB ( and INSULTS your own mental capacities. Basically anyone who says this is straight out stating that they are to unintelligent or ignorant, even ill-educated to understand what is going on or is wrong. So it's more HUMILIATING to the poor person saying this then you, if you've been “Insulted” in this manner or anything like it, like I have FAR to many times over now, and from my own family members. Even well meaning people and close friends can slip up like this. =-(! Especially if you become wearing on them. =-/! ) to tell someone this, and it's impossible for the other person to quit being who and what they are and how they are. ( On a side note, my poor Mom has a mentally handicapped sister and her family, school teachers etc. and even total STRANGERS would look at my Mom and tell HER to make her sister quit acting so “wrong” and to quit being retarded, “stupid” etc. . This was back in the 60's and 70's when using such language was, well it was the only words they had and they were used with all the cutting terrible-ness they imply today, so yeah. Not a great childhood for anyone involved there. =-(! )

But it DOES GET BETTER, slowly, ever so slowly and at times terribly, but it does get better. I've found even though it's not much of a consolation that all those “Ghosts” I was seeing, the flashing back, the feelings and the tactile feelings of being there instead of here; the night terrors and even night mares is all your mind trying it's BEST to figure it all out and make sense of it, put it behind and even initially at least incorporate it into your life; or figure out how it is part of your life and make sense of it in the reality you live in today, which CAN be starkly DIFFERENT, putting entirely different demands on you. This is what happened to me, I was suddenly expected to do and BE ENTIRELY DIFFERENT then the person I was before. Even to this day I am not the same person I was, but slowly ever so slowly over the years I have been getting back to who I was and the way I originally thought. The Adrenaline, tension, inability to sleep etc. has worn off and been replaced EXTREMELY SLOWLY by

softness, relaxation and ease, just wanting quiet and peace (unlike before when I NEEDED the EXACT OPPOSITE).

I've found for myself that it's your mind trying to figure out how to tie it to the here and now which you are experiencing. It seems to me that it's a survival mechanism and that it's almost as though those who are more intelligent, their minds just HAVE to make sense of the senseless, therefore the nightmares and all.

But that's just what I have figured out for myself at least.

I may have a broken mind and it's failing me now but it's still functioning as best it can and this story has been one of the many ways I have tried to make sense of my life experiences and what I've been through. Figure it out and put some purpose to it.

In the end I'm sorry for what you have been through and are going through, you're not alone and if you

OR ANYONE ELSE NEEDS TO TALK THEN CONTACT ME =-) As Red Green Said, “Were all in this together.” ;-)

Peace =-)

G.G. =-)

P.S. – IF YOU FIND THIS HELPFUL AT ALL THEN C O P Y T H I S!!! AND SPREAD IT AROUND! Put it n every website you know, link back to it, what have you!

I WANT-heck NEED this to be spread far and wide to help as many people as possible, whoever they are where ever they are.

I know some of it may be hurtful and I don't mean for it to be, I only mean to HELP and do my best to explain what I've been through and where I'm coming from, and through this SOOTHE HEAL and possibly do my best to get the word out, THAT OUR SOLDIERS AND OTHERS DEALING WITH PTSD and UNDIAGNOSED HEALTH AILMENTS ETC. NEED TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY, NOT CONSIDERED NUTS ( cause their NOT) and HELPED.


(Also, if this story might help then spread it around, Oil

I hope it will do far more then just being stuck in the realms of Fan Fiction and read by only the few and far between, and then only those who are into that particular kind and type of Genre-Fan Stuff/SGA And if ANYONE AT ALL is willing I'd VERY MUCH like to turn this into an INDEPENDENT PUBLISHABLE STORY that I can get out there to help even more. =-) !

Heck I'd like to raise money and make it FREE for anyone wanting to read it, right now the only way that is possible is through this Fan Fiction site. =-) )

Love you all and go in peace G.G. =-)

glassesg33k: What I look like ... in blue. (Default)
Title: Hunting the Wild Libido
Posted: Saturday, April 26th ,2014 Author: GlassesG33k
Fandom:X-Files Pairing: Scully/Mulder
Rating: PG Word Count:6,471
Disclaimer: None needed, for I AM Scully, Mmuuwwaahhhh...! ;-D! Oh yeesssss... ;-D!.
Spoilers: Detour4th Episode, of the 5th Season.


Once again an A-Sexually written “Sex Fic.” that turned into a Non-Sex fic, once again. :-/!
This one is a bit longer then the last one and is a deeper more detailed writing of it.
For me this was a bit easier since it's the kind of stuff that pops into my head when I'm watching these darn shows.
I've totally gotta write the episode Fire12th Episode of the 1st Season. I've been needing to write this for so long.

Also, this was extremely difficult for me to do so any kind of encouraging words would be greatly appreciated, Thank You to anyone in advance. :)



Hunting the Wild Libido




Have you ever wanted to kiss the insanity outta someone? Well I have.


I don't know what it was, maybe it was the relentless constant companionship, the fact that no matter what I did I could not be rid of Mulder. Maybe it was because I gave in far to early and like he wanted gave up any and all attempts at having a personal life; or any kind of a life at all outside of our cases. Whatever it was the more I hung out with the darn agent the more I had an overwhelming need to protect him, to care for him; to take him and claim him as mine and mine alone.

I don't know when the jealousy started, I do know that it seemed to start sometime after his did. I know he was jealous of the one possible chance I had in those early years at a relationship, a life outside of the cases we worked. I had managed to snag a date with a wonderful man who was a friend of my sister's friend. … Or something like that, I can't even recall his name now.

Fox immediately butted his head in and ruined any possible chance I had with the man. Granted I was a bit relieved since it was our first date, first dates never go well since neither party knows a thing about the other. It was tense and uptight each one of us being on our best behavior neither daring to show our true selves yet, much less our cards. The very atmosphere was awkward and judgmental the both of us questioning and pulling back, wanting to know about the other, I was longing to be saved from the tedious conversation and dance we were doing. At least with Fox the conversation had never, ever been dry or boring; insane, odd or downright weird yes, but never really that dull. I was willing to give Mulder a try (a.k.a. one date) since it was more then obvious that he was jealous and needy, wanting me all to himself and himself alone.

Protective one could call it, I saw it as it was, intrusive.

Initially I took it as him being a hermit, a shut in. People like that, I had reasoned at the time, were more likely to cling, glomp on to those who were “from the outside world”, people who actually socialized and had a social life; like me. It was almost as if I and others like me carried the smell of fresh air from the outdoors, and people like Mulder would either be attracted to that or repulsed. Someone like him would either shove someone like me away, or try to pull, draw me in.

He seemed to be more the latter, his body craving the oxygen, reacting with out his input. Every time I got close enough for him to actually do anything though he'd suddenly shake himself, as if coming out of a trance or more then likely, suddenly realize what his own biological need, his own body was automatically doing without his conscious mind knowing.

Love starved he was …

but really,

in truth,

I was too.

Looking back I now think, wonder, if the reason he acted so two faced, so odd around me was for a whole other reason. I also wonder if he ever truly acknowledged that he did want me, at the time I thought he had and it was another reason he was shoving me away.

At the time I thought that maybe he was being odd, nice, and spending all his time with me because he was trying to keep tabs on me as I was of him. Maybe he was trying to make sure I didn't have a chance to report back to my superiors.
Maybe he was that-heck he was and still is that loony, though he has softened a bit, thankfully. He was trying his best to convince me of what only he could see, get me to see the ghosts dancing before his eyes. I did, eventually, but it took long, far to long.

I think I recall now when the jealousy for me might have started, the subtle slide into possessiveness, the want of ownership. I think it was when I found out that he had a past woman in his life. I can remember being a bit disgusted with the fact that there was anyone at all, and a woman no less if that made it any worse. I was enraged even betrayed for him by the fact that she'd hurt him-messed him up so badly when it came to dating.

I can still recall how he kept looking at me back then, wanting-needing to hide behind me, and he actually did, physically at first, when she'd first popped up on the scene. (He was truly scared of her and I felt a rush of pride, or being wanted and belonging finally in this new man's life. Sadly though I shoved it away, denied it and refused to accept, to admit to what I knew was the truth.

That he wanted me and had in his mind already decided that I was his. I shoved him away, forcing him to try and defend himself against her on his own. He told me, physically showed me through his actions that he couldn't take her, that he needed my protection, a woman's mind to fight a woman's mind. I flunked out, terribly … I never should have done what I did, forcing him to try and protect himself, still to this day I regret it. )

Maybe this was why he kept pushing me and anyone else away whenever anyone got close.

Maybe it was his childhood and family life.

Maybe he was pushing me away simply because of what I was there fore and who I was.

I donno.

All I know is that I can clearly recall the day I looked over at him and needed to take him right then and there.

Mark him.

Make him scream and whimper, plead and beg.

Make him say he was mine and mine alone and that he was dedicated to me and would not stray, not look at another.

The day that happened we were riding along in the back seat of our fellow employees car going to one of those mandatory retreats. It was meant to build team cooperation and help everyone think as one, move and work as a smoothly functioning unit instead of fighting and slowing things down.

“Last year I had something of a personal revelation!”

I was about to have one of my own in a second, I didn't know it at the time though. The two driving us to the Team Seminar rattled on and maybe Mulder; maybe he felt it, was feeding off my own pent up frustration and disgust to be forced into doing this.

He'd leaned over, hands tightly clasped between his legs, as though tied up, and said, “kill me now,” giving his boyish smirk to let me know he was joking.

I gasped my world freezing in that instant.

In my eyes I saw him leaning towards me begging, at my mercy; I couldn't help it, it's who I am and I have fought a good and long hard fight but at that moment I broke.

That night I was going to take him, the second we checked into our hotel I'd tie him down, make him beg and writhe with in an inch of his life. Make him come so many times he was sore and nearly immobile the next day, barely able to walk.

Apparently, or thankfully I'm still not sure which Mulder didn't notice a thing … or looking back now maybe he did. The slight blowing out of my pupils, the gasp of breath, the twitch of my body as the heart rate increased.

He leaned back and adjusted his tie, a sure sign of something though what I'm not sure, or wasn't then. ( I would eventually find that his own blood pressure had increased and caused his neck and head to feel swollen and suddenly burning hot! He'd noticed alright, he'd noticed and gotten instantly uncomfortable, but for very very excellent reasons, thankfully. )

He tapped his fingers and shifted, jumpy, (needing to do something with his pent up sexual adrenaline rush, unknownst to me.)

He puffed his cheeks out making the air seem thick and hot.

“Communication,” the lady in the front seat leaned back looking at us, “that's the key.”

( I had no idea at all how right she was.)

Mulder bit his lip and looked over at me, he seemed to communicate something to me but all I got was sex, now. ( At the time I knew I was wrong, turns out I was spot on, wow huh.)

I nearly took him right there, his baggy wrinkly shirt, how it hung accenting the physique beneath whispering, hinting, teasing. The roll of his tie, damn! Get a hold of yourself!

He seemed to notice or be saying the same thing back, that he wanted me, would accept my advances if I tried. That he wanted me as much as I wanted him; or … more then likely he was smiling trying to put me off in the most nice as possible manner he could. At the time I didn't notice that at all, I was blinded by science you could say, thinking that he wanted me and was willing, open; I had decided right then and there to take him the second we got to the hotel room. All care, thought, everything went out the window.

It was no wonder then that not long after we were stopped he jumped out of the car, turned his back on me and took off.

After speaking to a woman who it turned out was frantic for word on her husband he wandered off into the very woods where the man had gotten lost. This unsettled me and I went after him, our driving party were getting upset and I had the obvious duty of wrangling one lone Mulder. I could feel the glare the clear statement that we needed that conference, that my partner and I were so disjointed, on such different pages that we were on separate non-orbiting galaxies. I tromped along thinking, realizing a few items. His enthusiasm to chase after literal ghosts (of his dead sister, if you were to put it into Psychological terms) once again ruined my plans for that night.

My libido got another swift kick when I caught up to Mulder. He was squatted down hunched over some odd item and … huh, no wonder. He was far to cozy, sitting next to I'll admit a beautiful a woman. She had kinky auburn hair that spiraled in gorgeous flowing waves down her neck and stopped halfway past her shoulders. She had some slight freckles that had been at least partially covered by foundation, at least she'd tried. Her skin color was gorgeous-I'll confess jealousy hit me, hard, once again. As I drew close I saw him try to hide, he shifted, putting more of his back to me trying to stop me from seeing what I already knew and had been watching. He wanted her, liked her a lot, I couldn't blame him, I somewhat did myself, if I had been more along those lines, but I wasn't at the time. At the time I was hot on Mulder, of all things and I saw his interest, how he bit his lip looking her over like he was about to devour her then held back, letting his super-ego take over, pulling him back like a dog on an especially tight leash.

He must have heard my footsteps, unconsciously at least.

I marched up, interrupted, let him know we had things to do, places to go, a conference and team building to be tortured by.

He turned and I could see it, the body language, the very way he breathed, oh god, no.

He told me that we were staying, what a surprise.

Why did I cave in, huh?

That's what I ask myself every damn time I recall this now.

Maybe I was a bit more hot on the woman myself then I was willing to admit in those days. Maybe I was a bit too loose in the head by that time, like a pickle marinated in brine for far to long; your structure, defenses and walls start to break down and you let the surrounding atmosphere in. Mulder was my atmosphere at the time and … well, it's incredibly-hell it's impossible to hang around crazy with out going nuts yourself.

It happened to me, happened far to easily and quickly too. Mulder was just that enigmatic I think.

But back to my current point and problems, or the current story, Mulder grabbed my shoulders, “you see!?” the grin he gave was tight, his teeth grinding, except I didn't notice that, all I saw was a happy brilliant smile which I'd do anything for. I felt myself going lax and soft, my body leaning in to taste, suck; I closed my eyes for a split second feeling his hands, the pressure increase, I was leaning into him.

He must have noticed because in the next second, “we don't need that conference!” he shook me, I looked up. “We have perfect communication here!” he shook me again maybe trying to get the point across.

He didn't want me, he wanted anyone but me. (Or that's what I got at the time.)

That, or he wanted me just as much as I wanted him but he knew better, was doing his damnedest to hold back and I was making it damn near impossible. (Closer, but still no cigar.)

All I knew at the time was that I was not getting what I so desperately needed at that moment.

I tromped back to let our guests know that we wouldn't be going the rest of the way with them and making it to that conference.




Night fell far to quickly and slowly all at once. Checking in to our individual rooms I was about to undress and kick my shoes off, relax when another opportunity hit me. Even though we were here, in a shitty little backwoods motel room literally run by a Mom and Pop it didn't mean we couldn't have a good time. Turn this Shangri-La into a real paradise. We didn't need real working air-conditioning and smooth modern décor we had old brown shag carpet and a bed from the same era, we could make this work!

I put my hands on my hips and looked around … this'd need a lot... of alcohol … and if Mulder was going to put up as much of a fight as he had been then I'd need a whole LOT of it. I went down to the front desk and more or less begged for what they had which wasn't much or great but at least they had something. I procured one small bottle and two glasses, the fact that the booze was in plastic did not give me high hopes for it's alcohol content. I was nearly surprised they didn't give me powered liquor, like dried milk. “Just add water to the fill line, then stick it in the paint mixer and hope for the best”. I turned the bottle over looking for exactly those instructions, or something to that extent and got nothing. At least the people behind the desk didn't have to try and reconstitute what we were about to consume so I counted that as a plus.

I took a quick trip to the corner store and snagged some cheese and crackers, both of which neither of us needed I'm sure but it's the presentation and excuse that counted. If I had my way we wouldn't be having more then the wanna be champagne that night. It said something about the town that they didn't even have beer in the cooler when I looked around, the place must have been more religious and uptight then where I was raised.

When I got back to my place I nicely put out the cheese and crackers fanning them so that they lay beautifully, then put the tiny bottle of plastic liquor on the tray as well. I placed the cups making sure everything looked nice then went and fixed myself up a bit. When I was done I stepped back and made sure I looked … presentable. Not like I'd done myself up for the obvious and not like I'd been running around in the hot and humid Florida woods all day long. My hair was no longer frizzy from the humidity and my make up was no longer oily, the sweat leaking through and eating up every grain of powder.

I smelled nice and was more then presentable.

Good. I winked at myself then picked up my keys and the platter of goods going for it.


When I get to Mulder's door I knock …

“It's open!”

He doesn't sound to happy, great, this night is going well. I come in undeterred and smile, sheepish and suddenly shy, it's as if my body is rethinking the whole thing.

He turns clearly disgruntled about being disturbed his mind on his work, like always. Once again I almost got close, was allowed to see in, sit down, open him up and know him at his core. Then I see it, that wall came down again, his eyes change as they take in the small offering in my hand and he does a full body stop, pausing to refocus his attention; to think. I can see it, the idea-joke-what have you, bubbling up; he thinks he has to think of something, say something nice.

“Who cut the cheese?” he smirks.

Humor to disguise … what, that he was tired and cranky? I saw something … anger, repulsion, dread, frustration like an upside down umbrella, covering and holding it all and yet this still does not accurately explain-there may be no words to accurately record-depict what I was nearly sucked head first into.

Once again I was refused, but thankfully, looking back I realize he liked me too; liked me enough to not want to shove me away entirely.

Of course it could also be that he was merely being nice because he had too. I was his superior sent to, “take my little notes” on him and report back what I found … that would explain the hiding away. And on that note maybe it's a good thing I didn't get to bed him that night. It would have skewed, ruined my disconnected objective recordings of him and his department.

I also didn't know it then but I had to wait for him to come to me, but at the time I didn't know that and was so damn horny I didn't care.

“Since we won't be making it to the conference.”

“Paar-tay.” he smiles as best he can at me as I walk in and make my way over to the bed. Maybe it was to test the waters, maybe it was to see what he would have to say-how he would respond to it; maybe it was because my own id-or superego I can't recall which now was trying to warn him, let him know that I was dangerous, more a warning to myself then him.

“However I must remind you, this goes against the bureaus policy of male and female agents consorting in the same hotel room while on assignment.”

“Don't try that tail-hook crap on me Scully I'll kick your ass.”

Ah, I smirked uncorking the bottle thinking that it was a clear go, he was more then up for it, all of it.


I started pouring the wine trying to not make it look like I was giving him more.

“Pop quiz, what animal will attack the strongest leaving the weakest to escape.”

I freeze and look up my mind being on other things, savory savory things; I'm caught, think quick Scully! Thankfully he cuts me off.

“The answer is none. Not one of the over 4,000 native species known to North America will attack the strongest when the weakest is vulnerable.”

I look to the side twisting the pop top of the bottle back on the wine, how appropriate that we are talking about such things, I'm about to take him now. “and what does that have to do with anything.” I bring the drinks over to him.

“It makes me think that what were dealing with is no ordinary predator.”

He looks at me, as if he knows, as if he were speaking directly to me; about me.

“I thought this was just a ploy to get out of the conference.” I try.

“I think what we've stumbled upon here is more then what local authorities realize.”

Once again he seems to be talking about me; or maybe it was my own subconscious. Oh the things I could tell him, he's very very right.

“Mulder we're in West Florida the only things ...”

Before I know it Mulder is up and putting his coat on, my arguments haven't worked, or maybe they did. Maybe it was my proximity. Once again he was having to put that wall up keep me away. I noticed that over the years when he let his walls down I put mine up, when he had his walls up I put mine down, it was almost a game, as if we purposefully waited till it was safe to actually relax, in that way, around the other.

We fought a good and hard fight for far far too long, but we had too, we were employed for opposing teams.

Of course it wasn't long after this that it happened, we slipped; thoroughly and blissfully, together and as one as we we're meant to be.

But that's for later, right now I need to get through the rest of the current situation, and story.

“Mulder where are you going?” I turned shocked, he'd moved so fast and I was so love lost I hadn't noticed that my chance, my one damn chance was getting up and walking away! If you didn't notice my voice showed the frustration and shock.

He was being a good boy though, when the social and verbal rebuffs didn't work, when there's no other chance, you physically get yourself out of there. If I had known at the time that he was going nuts for me, that he'd already taken care of himself the second he got into his room, while I was fishing up wine and cheese excuses to come over I never would have pushed it.

“Gonna check somethin' out!”

I didn't know it at the time but he was about to break-give in and crumble, let me do with him as I choose; hell I still wish he had, but … he still needed to work some things out. One of them I believe was the far safer if extremely distant auburn curly haired ranger lady.

“You know, sometimes I think some work on your communication skills wouldn't be such a bad idea.” I inhale, tense, tight, pent up. What I didn't know then was that he was already excellent in his communication skills I was just to blind with being … well, amorous to notice.

“I'll be back soon and we can build a tower of furniture,” he leaned into the room and smiled back at me, teasing and so damn coy. I should have realized it then that he wasn't just making fun, picking on my need but that he actually meant it, and meant to keep to his word. “kay?” his smile turned shy, sweet, all innocent boy no bad anywhere to be found.

I huff and merely nod, watching him shut the door and leave.

I'm left to drink alone.



The next day were at a scene inside a house. Were checking things out and like usual he's explaining things the way he sees them. We're down low, speaking privately-just him and me, no one else in the world around when she pops up. Out of the blue the conversation opens up and he's excited, happy, entirely involved in the case, or really the girl. He actually wants her here, which is a surprise usually he's more of a hermit then that, shoving others away, especially if he suspects that they might be questioning of his ideas, beliefs, his wild goose chases. Instead with this lady he's glad to let her in on his hypothesis his wild larks and notions. He looks at her then me, then he becomes divided, not sure who to look at, who to turn more of his attention too, not wanting to make either of us feel left out. At the same time he's confused, initially he decides he wants me, but now there's another option, so he wants her, then he decides why can't he have both of us. He looks at both of us asking permission, I don't know about her but I turn him down, frigid. I get the feeling though that we both at the same time say no.

He stops then continues on as if he were a non sexual being and nothing just passed between all three of us.

“How do you stop it?” the lady asks.

The both of us, Mulder and I must have frozen; how telling, how true.

Mulder looks at us, then me, “by identifying it. Stopping it before it stops someone else.”

Whoo-boy. That was the most frigid shut down-refusal I've gotten; from anyone.

He just let me know that he knew what I was doing, what was going on and he didn't like it, and he was about to shut me-the whole thing down.

It was after this that he dragged us out into the woods but it was because of her, I think-I know.

It was also after this that I was confronted with my own dilemma-the techie guy who carried the geographical/ground or dense foliage penetrating radar equipment or some such. He was very cute, far to young and that made it so much worse.

He had a very Daniel Jackson esque look about him, big goggle type glasses and blonde hair, intelligence and so bubbly, so … spouting of so much information quickly so … damn!

I couldn't help myself and kept glancing at Mulder, as if asking for permission; as if he were already mine and I needed to see if it would be alright for me to take this young man, see if he'd also be willing to be with me.

Mulder for his part just shyly looked away, at first disgusted-repulsed even, then with ever growing acceptance.

The whole thing was a mess and it wasn't helped by what we soon got ourselves into.

(I noticed that Mulder looks very hot while he runs, all sleek and slinky for lack of a better way to describe it; fast with a gun in hand.)

“Mulder he's right! We weren't prepared for this!” and I mean far more then that. By this time we're wandering deep in the woods, no guide, no way to find out and getting more confused and lost by the second. We look at each other communicating about far more then the current physical circumstance were in; both of us scared not knowing what to do about it. … Odd how my sexual attraction has suddenly become both of our problem.

He bites his lip and … concedes. He nearly didn't though, nearly defied and challenged me.

“Alright. We all go ...”

Time passes on and as we search we try to decipher what it is exactly that we're dealing with, how it thinks and what it seems to know about us, about the woods that were in, that we have no knowledge of.

“What the hell is it Mulder?” I look at him to get the double entendre across, it's a metaphor, it is truly like were hunting my libido; and now he knows it too.

Or maybe he always has.

Of course he could have been just that dull and is now getting it; that could be possible too.

“I donno but it's smarter then us.” he looks right into my eyes.

We look at each other, searching … meaningful …

So he did know, he's known all along and he's had to come to the conclusion himself, to accept, to want.


He accepts-wants me and what I have for him!

Just as this revelation occurs he's ripped away from me, how appropriate; it's as if he's ripped away by my own libido. Down out of my sight, as though being eaten alive, devoured by my own need and want.


I turn searching … maybe these woods are spiritual, the unseen coming alive.

“Scully!” his voice is muffled, distorted … he's being dragged along the ground, I can hear his arms scraping along.

“Mulder!” I try to get a lock on his position.

“Scully!” the voice comes from a totally different direction.

We play Marco-Polo for far too long, his voice coming from a different area and direction, from further then closer, then further each and every time. It's meant to mess with me, throw me off and it's working but he's never far from me, I manage to keep up, stay close.

“Scully!” his voice is tight, tense, begging, oh god, never a good thing. I fire off my gun and manage to save him though.

“You okay?”

He nods … the look on his face, so helpless. I love it and it's all I can do to hold myself back.


Nightfall and he's in pain, uncomfortable, restless and the way he's lying his head on the log … I don't know if he's truly feeling cold, slightly tired from it all or if he's truly being coy; making eyes, faces, moving his mouth, even his hair line … Rolling his head and neck, looking up at me as though he were a child needing comfort.

“Maybe it'll start raining weenies and marshmallows.”

Ah, so he's feeling worn.

“Do I detect a hint of negativity?”

“No. Yes actually! … Yeah.” he whines, sick then. Sick and tired, more from over exertion and lack of food, I've heard that tone far to often from him and know it well now.

I do my best to care for him, and us really.

“Mulder you need to keep warm, you're body is still in shock.”

“I still believe that the best way to regenerate body heat is to crawl naked into a sleeping bag with someone else who's already naked.” he shuffles over, trying to snuggle up to my side, for once I let him too engrossed in my futile attempts to make a fire.

He looks up at me begging.

“Maybe if it rains sleeping bags you'll get lucky.” I smile down at him to lighten the blow, sorry pal you screwed up, I tried and tried but you never caved and now you lost your chance.

Too bad.

“You ever thought seriously about dying.”
“Yes once. When I was at the icecapades.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

I nearly pop out laughing but hold it back letting him stay snuggled up tight to me, I'm too concerned for his well being to put him off.

“When I was fighting my cancer I was angry at the injustice of it and it's meaninglessness …”

“and then I realized that, that was a struggle, to give it meaning, to make sense of it.”
I hope that he sees this for what it is, me rationalizing everything that has happened today while attempting to soothe myself.

The fact that now that he has finally decided he'll let me take him, have him as my own he's now injured and being put off, the both of us lost in the woods.

He thinks, he's good at that; very good. He always surprises me with what he comes up with and this time is no different.

“I think natures supremely indifferent to whether we live or die. If you're lucky you get 75 years, if you're really lucky you get 80 and if you're extraordinarily lucky you get to have 50 of those years with a decent head of hair.”

I can't help but smile at that one. Ahh Mulder, always being able to lighten the mood no matter how somber. … One of the things I love about him, one of the reason I love him.


Didn't mean to confess that one.

“I guess it's like Las Vags, the house always wins. Oh!” the shell has finally popped open spilling it's contents, finally! “Ta da!”

“You go girl.”

I set to work and build up some kindling, sure this will work.


Mulder watches, he knows already what will happen but lets me learn for myself, I needed to learn.



I try to light the fire with the gun powder from my bullet, there's an explosion but no flame, no fire; no warmth, nothing.



Just like tonight.


We're left in the deep dark cold.

I look around

It's lonely, foreboding, I'm scared, or should be; would be if I wasn't so damn horny.

He's frightened, and not just by the possibilities out there but the one right here, the one next to him.

Sex is one thing, a taking in, a much needed savoring of a meal you've been denied for far to long, but this; this isn't sex.

This would be love, and we both know that.

Mulder has two things to protect himself from, three if you count the known wild animals.

It grows quiet

The possibilities grow, the imagination ignites.

We both shift.

He shivers and I instinctively roll him unto my lap, he needs to be kept warm, he's teetering on the edge of shock.

“You need to sleep Mulder.”

Actually that's the last thing he needs but if we're going to get out of here then he's going to need reserves, something that neither of us have right now; except for the emotional kind.

I pull him closer to me and we discuss taking rounds, keeping watch.

I shift and nearly slide right into taking care of him in my own personal way, the way I've been needing so damn much... I stop myself we both freeze at the last minute.

I can feel his terror his shock, can almost see his eyes go wide, feel his thoughts; he's being cared for by a crazy lady!

We sit there in dark silence for what felt like an eternity but it was only a beat.

“Sing to me Scully.”

“Mulder I can't sing-”
“Sing to me.”

“Anything. … come on you'll fall asleep other wise-”
“I wont' fall asleep Mulder.” I can't.

He eventually gets me to sing, I have to admit it's a good thing, a smart idea. It distracts me enough to focus on something else, something other then the person in my lap … God the tortures I have endured in this life!


When Mulder comes to get me the next day while I'm packing it's with worry, as if there's something to be afraid of. Like usual he won't say, maybe it's fear of being judged and rightfully so, I haven't been too easy on him, heck I've been sent to keep tabs on him, shut his department down, back when there was no and fast easy excuse too.

He herds me into the car, shifty eyes skittering over every inch around us. (Thankfully I've already checked out.)

I look side long at him and just exhale, there's no point, whatever monsters he thinks are out there he's now, at the moment, more afraid of them then he is of me.

I notice that his shoulder has been patched up and his arm, he's not using it.

“Want me to drive?” I haven't slept but with the way Mulder is driving I'd much rather I be behind the wheel right now. That and he seems to have problems when he's working merely one handed.

“Nah, it's alright,” he's looking out the window overly cautious like always.

I watch his eyes, his face and have a great need to eat him up right there.

His bare shoulder and limp arm are a come hither call to me and the best part is that he's not cranky, like so many men-heck people are when their injured.

Granted he's suppressing, which worries me and lets me know that I might be playing with a powder keg if I were to push it.

I leave it be and by the time we finally get home we're both ready to part ways.

Once again a lost opportunity.

Once again I don't get what I need what I want so dearly.

Once again we're both individually and together left alone; in the cold.





You may ask what is an A-Sexual doing writing “Sex Fic.'s” well, I'll tell you. At my heart, my core, I'm a scientist and to say the least extremely curious. I have a mechanical mind and must figure out how things works, take them apart and know how and why they tick and what makes them tick. I also must fix things, anything or one I see as broken, messed up, what have you I have an inherent need to fix, heal, help, correct if need be. This goes along with many a thing I see on T.V.

On top of this I've been socially inept and have lived in a dysfunctional abusive (not so much at the current time thankfully) family. This caused me to go head first into psychology in order to try and figure out people and how they construct things and build their world. I did my best to try and make sense of it all.

I've also not been able to socialize nor be accepted by the people (kids when I was young) around me. This made things worse and made it that much more imperative that I learn how people function, work, think, construct things in their mind, etc.

I was told that one good way to figure this out was to write, that this helps you figure out how people (and characters mainly) put two and two together, how they think. Writing also forces you to see things from another person's (characters) perspective, and this helps I have found greatly when it comes to being empathetic and knowing how others think and where their coming from.

You may not agree with it but in the end you'll have a better idea of why they said what they did and how they see the world and construct “facts” or “knowledge” from them.

Anyway, sex is literally an … Psychological Orgasm to me, (if you'll excuse and) understand the term, as I'm using it. It's literally a uniting and creating one through some odd, physical act that which is psychological. How in the world does this happen, why, and is sex entirely a social-non biological construct? (Of course now I've found that even socializing itself and how we construct our world all comes down to genes and it;s all literally fractals, if you know what that is. I won't go into it here, and this knocks out the whole point here.) But it still is literally fun and engaging to me to delve head first into psychology and it really gives me a great work out. :) And Sex or really relationships and how people function, interact with each other, acting and reacting, speaking and whatnot, it's really interesting.
That and despite everything in my heart and soul I'm a romantic at heart.

Yes, I'm an old softie and still harbor longing for that which I'll never have, a soul mate of my own in real life. The only way I can have that is vicariously, through these characters, or “literally” through writing these characters and imagining myself as one (or both) of them.

I LOVE seeing two souls uniting as one and becoming one, I LOVE; love, and I love being able to wave away the loneliness through my writing, daydreaming and reading; this I think is the main reason I write thee things.

It is in the end because I am eternally lonely.

That's it.





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