Story #63 Is A Review Of "The Craft: Legacy" Movie

Story #68, which is a negative travel experience.

Here I am in my late 30s. Now scroll down my Instagram and see what I was like nine years ago - practically the same woman but with her first child (and don’t forget to wow me with “you haven’t changed a day!”) So when the baby girl turned 18 months old, our little family of three adventured off to Bulgaria - our first holiday in the status of parents.

It is not unheard of for a newly-minted mother to be cautious and plan everything ahead when a child is involved. That’s what I did. A hotel with a kid’s pool and a playground - ticked. A restaurant with a menu for picky toddlers - ticked. A suitcase filled to the brim with diapers, fruit smoothie pouches, formula, and every medicine imaginable - ticked. I was prepared for everything.

What I couldn’t have been prepared for was that three days into the holiday, Ann, my unlucky daughter, would start burning - not under the hot Bulgarian sun, but with a fever. A nasty virus, caught somewhere at the airport, and oral thrush, caught when she wined and dined herself with the beach sand are both quite innocent, but a deadly bouquet when worsened by a child violently teething. 

We made it through the holiday watching cartoons (frigging Blue Tractor), eating the suitcase of smoothie pouches, and pushing a stroller along the most deserted streets of the town. 

The hardest part was to watch her looking at the pool through the balcony bars, knowing that she couldn’t join the other kids there. The lesson learned hard - I hadn’t taken my second child on an abroad trip until all his teeth claimed their rightful places in his mouth. 

Some more factual information behind the CPE fiction article "The local hero". You can find a full article here https://www.nytimes.com/1995/10/05/nyregion/girl-s-death-is-attributed-to-rabid-bat.html

do you have any gossamer specific fanfic recs?

Collector's Edition: A Gust of Gossamers

I do, indeed! :DDD

Decided to pick authors who have crossover with each other, be it collaborations or dedicated mentions.

**Note**: There will be typos-- will edit them out later.

Loose chronological order below~

msk's

Home by Another Way

Neither of his parents had offered to come, so she'd stayed in North Carolina though it meant a run in with Blevens.

"You should have been with your family. Not hanging around my hospital room."

Truth be told, part of her hadn't wanted to come home and face the sadness.

Post Beyond the Sea Mulder and Scully bond over their fathers.

Final Arrangements

He'd insisted on bringing her home from the hospital, even though her mother had offered. Scully had sensed that it was important to him and had suggested her mother spend some time with Bill before he had to return to California.

Post Redux II Mulder finds Scully's pre-Gethsemane funeral plans.

The Brixton Witch by Kel & msk 

She paused for a moment, one hand on the car door and waited for the lightheadedness to fade. Her hesitation wasn't lost on Mulder, who shot a concerned glance in her direction....

It wasn't as if she could order her body to hustle that cellular repair because she was tired of feeling cold all the time. If it wasn't for her silk-blend long underwear, she'd be shivering in the late October breeze.

She firmly shut the car door, and strode toward the shop. Mulder overtook her, reaching around to push the door open.

Post Redux II Scully and Mulder investigate a haunted bakery.

And So It Goes

I sat up, heart pounding, gasping for breath as Mulder stumbled into the room. His hair was sticking up in the back like a rooster's comb, and if I wasn't having a breakdown, I would have laughed. "A bad one?" he asked.

"I give it a nine." I ran a shaky hand through my hair as Mulder brought me a glass of water from the bathroom.

"Yeah, but I bet you can't dance to it," he quipped as he handed me the glass and sat next to me on the bed. I took a long drink and wondered why people bring you water when you're upset. He rubbed my back as I took deep breaths and felt my heart try to escape my chest. "Which one was it? The one on the examining table?"

I bitterly regretted telling him about that particular horror show.

Post One Son Scully and Mulder investigate another abductee case.

Jabberwocky by bcfan & MaybeAmanda & Amy & Tesla & msk & Marchmont, Lucy & Kmom 

Mulder's eyes moved from Sybil to Scully. "Fro--Melvin said you had information. What's up?" he asked, the lack of expression in his voice expressing the utmost suspicion.

Sybil leaned forward, and the lazy drawl was nearly gone from her voice. "I think the company I work for is running insurance scams with the undead."

Post Bad Blood Scully and Mulder find themselves-- courtesy of the Lone Gunmen-- investigating another suspicious Texan town.

Mezzo Luna

"I think Carmela's emotions were carried through the food she cooked to the people who ate it. She was angry when she made the ravioli, and the people who ate it became enraged." He sat back and folded his arms, as if daring her to take her best shot.

Scully took a sip of her club soda and fought a smile.

Mulder and Scully investigate a town embroiled with heightened emotions (and confront a few of their own.)

"The Freedom Squad Birthday by Kel & msk 

"He wants a Freedom Squad Battle Fortress."

"I'm sure he'll like that mitt just fine."

Mulder was grinding the ball into the glove, forming the pocket. Which really wasn't necessary, but still, that's what a guy does with a new glove.

"I went to World O' Toys and Big Box Toys in Alexandria. I called a couple of stores in Arlington. I didn't get very far."

"He didn't give you much notice," Doggett said. As in, maybe if you talked to him more than once a month, you would have known earlier.

AU-- Post Existence Mulder is unstable, flaky, and constantly in and out of Scully and William's life.

mimic117's

Supermarket Sweep

Why don't they include this in the training? Especially for guys. It's gonna come up at some point. It's inevitable. You get comfortable with each other. You trust each other. You'd even die for each other. So why shouldn't you do this one little thing, too? Easy, right?

Wrong.

There's too many choices.

S1 Mulder is sent on a period shopping expedition.

One Another's Best

"I miss her, Mulder."

He places his hand on her sleeve.

"I know."

Post Paper Clip Mulder understands why Scully is snappy at work.

War Stories

How do you burn a ring inside a shirt cuff? He just smirked when I asked about that one.

He does that a lot. Never really explains anything, just shrugs or smirks.

Post Bad Blood Mulder's dry cleaner is used to regular damage.

Imperfect Penance

It's a dangerous assignment, I won't kid you about that. I knew what I was getting into from the start, although I wasn't happy about going in without backup. Still, Skinner was right. I couldn't risk the operation just because I feel naked without her next to me. But she found out anyway. Wish I could have seen her worming the details out of Skinner.

Pine Bluff Variant Mulder is glad to have Scully on the "in."

Getting By

It took a moment to achieve upright and stable, but once she did, Scully found she could shuffle with the best of the octogenarians. She'd made it around the bed, on a steady course to reach the door in under twenty minutes, when she remembered two things. One, there was someone in her apartment. Chances were really good that it was just her mother, who'd called the previous night and used her maternal radar to deduce her child's state of health. But two, she couldn't be sure of that and her gun was safely locked away in her end table. She turned and looked. Way back there. On the other side of the bed.

She swiveled slowly toward the door again and caught sight of the baseball bat standing in the corner.

S6 (or S7) Scully is very sick... and very loopy.

Jersey-deviled

"So *anyway*.... I'd just gotten close to the door when it opened again. The woman standing there yelled, 'Hey! Come on in!' and hauled me into the room."

"Did you get her description?"

"I already told you I didn't. It happened too fast, and once I was inside the room, I was mobbed."

"Right. I forgot."

Mulder and Scully, on the road with concussion stories.

Jaded

"Well, you're not upsetting me, Miss, uh..."

Ms. Cool Cucumber doesn't like it when Hotshot has to remind her of my *real* last name. Wish I could see the look she gave him. She's the one in control here and she seems to think I'm hiding something.

First Person Shooter's Jade Afterglow has thoughts after Scully and Mulder's interrogation.

Coming up Roses

"Look on the bright side, Mulder."

"Is there a bright side?"

"Of course there is. This time you weren't hurt enough to need drugs, so I won't have to listen to your snoring at night."

"Sez you. And I do not snore."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

Mulder is scratched up by rose bushes.

Chip Off the Old Block, Chip Off The Old Block 02 - Serendipity, Chip Off The Old Block 03 - Veracity, and Chip Off The Old Block 04 - Duplicity

Trading glances with Mulder, Charlie took on the task of deflecting his sister's annoyance. "We were almost mugged coming out of the gym, Sis. No big deal. We just didn't want to worry you."

"Yeah." Mulder dove through the loophole he'd been handed. "It was just some hop-head trying to score a little cash. We got the bad guy, the cops took him away, and we're both fine. End of story."

Glaring from one man to the other, Scully crossed her arms and lowered her brows. "Why do I get the feeling there's something else you're not telling me?"

AU-- Post Existence Mulder, Scully, and William are awash in Charlie Scully misadventures. (Turns out, William's little powers are genetic.)

Emily Sim's

Aeviternal

He closed the door and scooped up his jacket and a sweater he'd left on the couch. They joined other discarded parts of his wardrobe on his bed. Good to know the bed was good for something.

Post Fire Mulder ruminates on the word 'love'.

Softly

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. It thrums through his body with every beat of his heart, with every step that he takes towards her hospital room. How many times over the years has he done this? He’s only been gone a few minutes to grab some food for himself, but he can’t shake eight years’ worth of hospital visit paranoia from his shoulders.

Existence Mulder keeps watch over Scully and their son in the hospital.

Satchie's

Dancing with Mephistopheles

"You've sustained an injury to your left anterior cerebral artery, which has caused some hemorrhaging into your brain. That's why you're having speech difficulties and the weakness on your right side. We're going to repair the damaged artery and evacuate the clot."

Brain surgery? You've really outdone yourself this time, Mulder.

Post Demons Mulder realizes that it was Scully's blood, not her tears, on his shirt.

Renaissance de Mal 

Scully glanced back at the abandoned vehicle. "Don't move. I'll bring the car over here and get you situated. Then we'll go to the emergency room."

Mulder gingerly flexed his limb. "Nah. I think it's okay. I just need to work out the kinks. Probably twisted it funny or something."

"Uh huh. It's the 'or something' that worries me.

S5 Mulder adds another injury to his list while chasing after a demon dog.

Claimed

Scully frequently volunteered to handle this unpleasant task, but his misplaced guilt prevented him from accepting her gracious offer this time. For crying out loud, he nearly died simply because he went to an out-of-town basketball game. It was so senseless and humiliating. No, he would fight this battle alone.

Mulder's insurance company has no mercy.

In Extremis

The worst part of my decline is having to face my trials alone. So many times I've debated whether or not to tell Scully about my illness, but I can't seem to arrive at a decision. For crying out loud, she's a doctor. Sooner or later she's bound to notice the subtle clues of my deterioration. Do I honestly believe I can keep this from her until the bitter end? No matter how I check out, she's going to be heartbroken.

AU-- Pre-Requiem Mulder is too afraid to tell Scully about his brain disease.

Jenna's

IOU

We spend the next few hours reliving the past 22 years through my eyes. I tell her everything, but mostly about my time spent with Scully and all that has happened to us over the last two years. She finally has gained the nerve to ask "the" question.

"This Scully, is she is a "partner?" Or is she is a "partner, partner?"

AU-- Mulder and Samantha root around in their parent's attic.

Amy's

Where are You, China Blue?

"Listen to me."

He looked off, annoyed.

"You're not listening."

"Yes, I am."

"Then stop it, Daddy. Just hear me out. I don't care anymore. I don't care. It used to be fun. It used to be this great game. 'Don't get caught, Sammy', you'd say. It was great. My whole life was great. Until last week, I thought it was going to be that way forever."

AU-- Post Redux II Samantha is sick and tired of the games.

Through the Mist

You approach my body. I expect to find shock, horror and sadness etched within every line of the face I know better than my own. Instead you are smiling, you approach me as you have every other day of our friendship, your eyes take in my body with reverence, a small smile is dancing on your lips. Your arms are held behind your back and as you approach the bed I can see the little game you have intended to play. A date. The remembrance of the word is almost unbearable. Your smile grows as you present my corporeal self with the bouquet from behind your back. I can hear you lightly mocking me, laughing at the fact that I had said that fortunes would come between us and normality. You are out to prove me wrong, not out of vengeance or spite, but because that is how you and I grow and move forward.

AU-- Scully's spirit watches a broken Mulder take her body home.

Tesla's (Site)

Get Up, Mulder

He rolled onto his side. He still had his gun. What was the problem? He felt blood trickling from his scalp. Someone must have sapped him. He was such an idiot. He wiggled his fingers, tried to send a message to his feet. They moved. Good. Houston, we have movement.

"Scully?" he said, tentatively. He was in a parking deck. Something about a suspicious sale of fertilizer. Great. Wonderful. He knew Kersh wanted to kill him, but he had thought it would be death by boredom.

FTF and S6 Mulder's many "passing out" adventures.

After the Ship

"When a man has to start all over again----when a profiler, who sees evil everywhere, has to start over again- ---how do you rejoin the world?"

Black's eyebrows twitched once. "Ah," he said. "But I have a connection to the world. I have my daughter."

Mulder grimaced.

Black reached in his pocket for a couple of dollars. "Yes, Agent Mulder, I'm luckier than you. You have to find your way back without a lifeline."

Post Three Words Mulder remains disconnected, dully wondering if he's a clone.

Kel's No Longer at Ease Here

He looked over at me, nodded, and turned back to look out the window.

"If that's true, you have my deepest sympathy," he said.

If that's true. Like I'm a liar.

"Squamash, Pennsylvania. Sound familiar?" I asked him.

That got his attention.

Vienen Doggett tells Mulder about his own experience with death.

Kmom's How I Want The X-Files To End

"Scully? You awake?"

"Sure, Mulder, I'm awake." The voice is deadpan. "I'm always awake at... uh... 3:35 am."

"Well, I was wondering... "

"What else is new? Make it quick."

"Do you think it's possible for dinosaurs to still be walking the earth somewhere?"

Post Existence Mulder and Scully have an early morning conversation about reinstatement.

bcfan's

Party Line

At Mulder's hurt look, Scully swallowed and closed her eyes. Get a grip, she scolded herself. You usually love his brilliance and energy. Thinking back to yesterday's discussion - childhood report card comments - Scully remembered she'd shared "plays well with others." Mulder had countered with "has a low tolerance for repetition."

That's the key, Scully decided. I have to find a way to pull us both out of this miasma of snarkiness. I have to give Mulder something new and different to think about.

Post Firewalker quarantine slumber party.

Wired

"I'm enlisting your help on a field assignment, but it's going to be undercover. Can you get away unofficially for a few days?"

"Well, I have some back vacation time coming. Agent Scully, might I ask-"

"No. I'm on an unsecured line. Drop off whatever paperwork you need to fill out and meet me in your own car - not a Bureau car, Agent Pendrell - at the food court of the Key Mall in Frederick. It's about 40 miles from D.C. Do you know where it is?"

"I'm sure I can find it. I'll be there as soon as I can."

Scully nodded. She still had one friend in the FBI.

Wetwired Scully is on the run, calling up Pendrell for help and fleeing to her mother's.

Bon Voyage with an Open Book

"No, I'm thinking about early humans. It must have been confusing for the first people to dream - to go somewhere without going."

"I never thought of that before."

Mulder throws his arm over his eyes and murmurs. "I don't want to go somewhere anymore, Scully. It's too hard."

"Mulder, I'm coming over."

Post Paper Hearts Scully drops by with a present.

Hanukkah

Scully spotted it on a dusty shelf at a gas station QuikiMart, propped next to boxes of tinsel and faded red and green ornaments. A quick decision later, the miniature menorah was tucked into her plastic bag with sunflower seeds and a lottery ticket promising 38 million dollars.

Mulder looked surprised as he examined her offering.

"For good luck," she murmured.

Post Kaddish Scully buys Mulder a menorah.

Twin Paradox, A New Interpretation

"Perfect timing, Mulder. No haircut, but I just got rid of three days worth of beard. How are you feeling?" Scully again held the water to Mulder's lips as she spoke.

"Better," he quietly replied, then gestured weakly with his hand. "Roses?"

"From my mother. Don't worry, she signed my middle name on the card. I knew they were for you, though."

Mulder smiled, and Scully's heart turned over.

"I've been dreaming. Good dreams. You're in them, Scully."

Amor Fati Mulder recovers in an old folks' home.

The Breakfast Club

"I'm cooking this morning, Mulder. Do you have a toaster?"

"Of course. This place has all the accoutrements of civilized dining."

Scully stepped into the kitchen. "Where is it?"

Mulder squeezed around her and crouched low, fishing with long arms in the back of a bottom cabinet. "Ta da." He held up an avocado clunker from the 1970s, covered in grime.

Post Amor Fati Scully keeps Mulder well-fed during his recovery; and he begins to return the favor.

Pine-scented

The funny little Charlie Brown Christmas tree looked almost lovely if he squinted and turned his head sideways. Lights sparkled in the windows and soft music caressed the room. It was beginning to look a lot like happiness realized.

Will climbed on Mulder's lap as he sat cross-legged on the floor, taping wires to the branches so the baby couldn't pull on them. Will drooled on his shirt and grabbed his nose. "Gah."

Post Existence Christmas, with poop and romance.

Obfusc8er's

Mandates from Heaven by Obfusc8er & Xtreme Unction 

Mulder leaned against one of the columns, casually crossing one ankle over the other, and squinted. He was trying to make out the textual message in the shimmering, as he is wont to do every time he visits the Lincoln Memorial. As usual, the epistle hidden in the water eluded him. He and Samantha used to play this game as children, making up imaginary Pentateuchal directives during every visit to the national mall. He smiled at the memory of some of the more ridiculous mandates from heaven they pretended to see.

AU-- Pre-S1 Mulder sees a "happily ever after" doppelganger.

Spending Time

I close my eyes briefly, trying to blink away the encroaching fog. I bite my lip until it bleeds. Even as I fade, I want her badly. She winds her hands together and shoves rhymically on my chest in a futile attempt at resuscitation. How lucky I am that my doctor is the pathologist who never says die.

Post Dod Kalm Mulder and Scully swap music requests after a night of nightmares.

True Reflections

Over here! Don't forget me! Mulder shouts silently.

"Okay. If I'm leaving anything behind, I'll just come by tomorrow to pick it up. I'll leave you alone now." She turns to leave.

He cannot take seeing her walk away right now, and he swallows hard.

"I don't want to be alone."

Post Grotesque Scully stands by her shaken partner.

Russian Roulette by Obfusc8er & bcfan 

The next time he awakens, Mulder bites his lip hard to keep silent, but he can't prevent the shakes.

Terma Mulder's stint in the Russian gulog.

Kiss and Makeup

"I got here as soon as I could. You sounded...lonely."

He lowered his eyes before saying the last word, unable to meet her gaze. She nodded at him, noting that he was no longer making an effort to pretend that his visit was anything but personal. She backed away a couple of steps, leaving the door wide open. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He stood fidgeting with the cuff of his trench coat, waiting for a cue, for a hint of what she needed from him. He was willing to do anything for her.

She wanted to let him hold her, but a lump was growing in her throat. She was busy trying desperately not to cry in front of him.

Pre-Gethsemane Scully and Mulder have a frank conversation about her health.

Reverto Ad Noctum

I can smell your fear.

Detour-- the Mothman's perspectives.

Convergence

Everything is running smoothly, and it all results in a living being, itself interacting with other beings in much the same way the wandering atoms within it do. The organism moves, communicates with, and manipulates members of its own and other kinds to become a part of an always-jostling, writhing whole conglomeration clinging precariously to a tilted, rolling rock. The system is humming along nicely, taking care of itself quite well.

And then something goes terribly wrong. The steady fluid pressure inside the organism's network of blood vessels rises slightly, the heart pumping frantically. The adrenal glands release endocrine and adrenaline into the bloodstream, causing the blood to become a much more efficient oxygen carrier. The protein hasn't made it back to the lungs yet. The combination of speeding heartbeat and frantically pumping lungs makes the entire system shake and vibrate with anticipation.

Monday, and one of the many days Scully lived through.

Deus ex Machina

Her partner was staring at the low tree stump upon which Legere had been splitting wood. She walked toward him, stopping when she saw the subject of his inspection. The face of the stump was sawed off with a smooth surface. The gray weathered grains were stained black and brown in a starburst pattern. Scully leaned closer and squinted. The stain was more recent and thinned around the edges, revealing its true pigment. It was red.

"It's blood," she stated, mostly to herself.

S6 Scully (and Mulder) come face-to-face with a demon on one of Kersh's patrols.

Papercut

"Don't move, Mulder. I'm not yelling. You have a concussion...among other things."

He winced as he felt fat raindrops falling on him with stinging force. Everything before him was a blur. He waited, and Scully's form slowly took shape.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

He looked at her, but his thoughts were clouded by pain in his head.

"Yeah. Fingers."

Scully finds her partner after he narrowly escapes a tornado.

One Man's Journey

I sense a wave of trembling pass through her frame as I marvel at the implausibility of our circumstances. Her head rests against my chest, against the very place where someone, or something, split me open and tried to remove my faith in her. When they realized they could not have that, they took everything else?

Post Three Words Mulder is desperate to keep Scully around while (temporarily) helpless to re-situate back to "normal."

Waddles52 and Little Bullit 89's Spectacular Lights and Chili Nights

"The injection should make you sleepy. I'm going to talk to the manager and find out where the closest medical facilities are. You need to be seen by a doctor."

"You're a doctor," he said sleepily. The phenergan was beginning to take effect.

"That's true, but in case you haven't noticed, the vast majority of my patients are dead.

AU-- Mulder and Scully, emergency appendicitis, and an important "I need you."

bellefleur's

Kiss of an Angel's Wings

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees her face. It's been like this for months now, maybe years, but never like tonight. Never like this. The memory of those baby blues riveted to him is seared into his soul.

Post Tempus Fugit Pendrell's last, besotted thoughts.

Iced

After the fact, it was hard for Scully to describe just what had occurred since it all happened so quickly. Ernie had just finished a rousing rendition of "Rubber Ducky," and as the music changed, the other characters emerged from the curtain, one by one, for the final number. Her focus, of course, had been on Big Bird, hoping for his sake that the show could end without incident. But as she watched him glide gracefully along behind Elmo in the long line of figures circling the ice, suddenly he broke formation and made a beeline for Oscar. With a dive at the garbage can, he and the Grouch slid toward the center of the rink, in a mangled pile of feathers and fur.

Post Detour Mulder and Scully are sent on an FBI undercover mission... as Sesame Street characters on ice.

When Cows Fly

Scully froze. She stopped breathing altogether, hoping that complete lack of motion would prevent him from waking further so that she could surreptitiously pull herself away. Slowly resuming her breathing, she began to plot another run at the alarm clock when a nearby rumbling startled her.

"If you wanted to cuddle you could've just asked."

Rain King Scully is flustered by Mulder's oblivious consumption of her space.

42 Flavors

Scully turned at Mulder's voice to see him pull up alongside her, and then she followed him out the door. One of the tables they had passed on the way in was now vacant, so they took their places in the wrought iron chairs flanking the matching round table.

"So, was it a good birthday, Scully?"

"Best one I've had in six months."

Post The Unnatural Mulder whisks Scully away to get gelato.

Combustion

She and her partner had faced this situation too many times, with one possibly losing the other permanently. Had this become almost mundane for them? To someone who had never faced this trauma before, the occasion magnified lost moments and things left unsaid. But for Scully, such thoughts had not even occurred to her, until now. Was it possible that she may never see Mulder again and never have the chance to express how she truly felt about him?

Mulder survives a bomb blast cave-in; and reunites with a relieved Scully, ready to take the next step.

In Heels

You'd think by now I'd be used to getting ditched, but with Mulder, it was never about gender. Sure, he was trying to protect me from taking the same stupid risks he was, but not because he thought I was a liability. That doesn't mean it didn't piss me off, but this--this one was a personal insult. And I don't like being insulted.

Mulder's swollen ankle prevents him from joining Scully and a misogynistic detective on the field.

Mother Love

Scully had invited him to join her and her mom for brunch that Sunday, but he politely declined and explained simply, "There's something I have to do." She accepted his excuse without question, perhaps understanding, or simply respecting his need to open up to her in his own time.

Post Sein und Zeit Mulder visits Tena Mulder's grave for Valentine's Day.

Triple Returns

"The Son."

Scully and Hughes both turned to look at Mulder who had now moved into the living room and was standing over the tape outlining where the body had fallen.

"Pardon me?" Hughes inquired.

"The Son. Daniels was the only son in his family, just like the second victim of each trio before. The original killers saw themselves as an unholy trinity, and they killed along the same pattern."

AU-- S7 Mulder and Kristen Kilar meet again.

Visceral

Your focus turns back to the steel pan containing the most poetic of my earthly remains. You place it inside the frame of the scale then write down the weight. You set my heart on the cutting board and pick up a long knife, your actions practiced and controlled, almost mechanical. The blade presses against the mottled epicardium, expressing thick, clotted blood from the vessels. But you pause, held back by something invisible and unspoken, your masterful hands trembling. Turning, you look at my opened body, my innermost self exposed. A few clear drops run from beneath your mask, dripping onto the front of your gown, mingling there with a smear of red.

Post All Things Daniel Waterston selfishly watches Scully autopsy his dead body.

Then Comes Marriage

"C'mon, Scully, it'll be fun. The lights, the magic. There's no other place like it on earth."

AU-- Mulder and Scully accidentally get married in Vegas.

Arms Wide Open

It hits me again: We did it. We made a life. I can't believe it.

And once more I laugh to myself in disbelief and start crying. This seems to be an automatic response for me.

AU-- Requiem Mulder wasn't abducted; and bolts from room after being told the surprise news.

Easter Vigil

All she knows for sure is that he was dead. She held his lifeless body. She touched his decaying flesh. She stood watch as they sealed him in the casket and then lowered him into the ground.

He was dead. And then he wasn't.

He is risen.

Deadalive Scully thinks of her waxing and waning faith in miracles.

Simple Man

The moment was interrupted as Will emerged from his room and rejoined them. It was Mulder who first noticed him, and Scully followed his gaze. Their son was now wearing jeans, a Yankees shirt, a ballcap, and his baseball mitt--the way he usually dressed when his father took him to the park to play catch.

AU-- Post Existence Mulder and Scully discuss his childhood while William changes his Halloween costume.

Is There a Doctor in the House?

Mulder was standing on his desk, holding something above his head, apparently installing...

"Ceiling tiles? Mulder, what are you doing?"

He almost fell off the desk, startled by her presence, but she quickly reached out to steady him. He smiled sheepishly and climbed off the desk.

AU-- IWTB Mulder keeps putting off his doctorate.

truthwebothknow1's

Natiruvaaq

He tried to cut through the fog that left his mind in a painful vice.

Mulder, caught in the fog.

Echoes

Her aunt had been bugging her for months about coming over to spend a few days and finally meet her.

S6 (or S7) Scully vacations in Ireland, where she not only finds her own X-File but runs into her partner.

Enchanted Shores

The soft crunch of feet through wet sand broke her out of her reverie as her partner approached her, grinning like a little boy bringing her a natural sea treasure.

The man with the child in his eyes.

S6 (or S7) Mulder and Scully take a lovely dovey trip to Maine.  

Home Alone

He stood at the lip of the stairs swaying and was feeling quite disorientated when the downstairs phone ringing tore a path through the cotton in his head. His good foot shifted inadvertently onto the first step but his toes could not dig into the carpet enough to stop his forward momentum. A final sway and his crutches slipped from his grasp with a clatter and he pitched forward, too shocked and slacked jawed to cry out. The hall flooring came up to collide with his nose at an alarming speed just as the answering machine kicked in.

Mulder gets into progressively worse scrapes on Valentine's Day, resulting in Maggie's arrival, Scully and Skinner's panic, and a reporter's opportunistic attempt to snap a photo.

My December

And then they found him.

Mainly because the puddle of red stood out in stark contrast to the endless white. Fortunately, they'd spotted his limp body wedged upside-down against a snow-covered rock before the last gimlet slither of light vanished over the next mountain. Only Mulder could render himself trussed up like some macabre raspberry ripple snowball....

AU-- S7 Mulder is wrapped up in barbed wire after a disastrous car accident. With no other recourse, Skinner and Scully prepare to pull it out themselves.

If I Close My Eyes Forever and Vortex

He was so excited at the thought of revisiting his old haunts and he hadn't really come down since. He called it his Oxford beat. Scully had nearly fallen out of the boat, laughing as he said it. They nearly both ended up in the river. Good memories, he was going to need them, they both were.

A sudden slither of melancholy caught her in the ribs. His hand tugging gently at hers brought her out of her reverie.

AU-- Mulder wakes from a dreamworld, nearly debilitated with serious injuries. Scully takes him to England to help him move on from the FBI; and the two-- of course-- stumble across an x-file.

Si la vie est un cadeau

I'm not the Close Encounter hero, but I'm close to something...terrible. I'm Fox William Mulder... the most colossal looser of all time. I am both found and at the same time irrevocably lost to you...to this. And I want...no need to think that I didn't have a choice, ...like Sam, that all this was inevitable for some universal goodness concept, which somehow got lost or derailed along the way. I made the choice Scully, but was it mine to begin with? Was this not ordained long ago by happenstance of my birthright? When I think of what I've cost you...

Maybe I deserve all this; perhaps everything was leading to this, in some divine plan that was kept secret from us. Though I'm sure you would be the first to tell me that, God doesn't use power tools against helpless living flesh.

S8 Mulder recounts the temporary bouts of reprieve he'd feel amidst the trauma of his torture.

BONUS

I can't bounce from this list in good conscience without mentioning Vickie Moseley and Donna and Sheryl Martin and RocketMan and Cecily Sasserbaum and prufrock's love, authors I've put a lot of hours into. However, since Tumblr has limits on links per post, I'll merely suggest you search their names (e.g. #Vickie Moseley) on this blog; and limit this rec to a fic I became reacquainted with today.

prufrock’s love/plenilune’s (Ao3, Gossamer, WBM, colonizationhq)  

Malebolge 

"I'm not eating a bat, Mulder. We don't have any food, no drinkable water, and you've got to be freezing. Better start climbing, partner."

"I wanted to wait until you were awake - to make sure you were okay before I left you." He's on his knees, facing me, very close. I can feel the heat radiating off him in the darkness like an aura and a warm hand touches my good shoulder. "You know I care about you, don't you, Scully?"

Something was very wrong if Mulder was saying this while kneeling on my wet trench coat, half-dressed, in a cave. Maybe he hit his head - that usually precedes declarations of his love.

"I know you do, Mulder. Just go."

"Do you love me?" He'd found my hand, holding it tightly in his.

Bad wrong.

"You know I do. What's wrong, Mulder?"

AU-- Mulder and Scully (and a tour guide) become trapped in an underground cave-in, and slowly realize they're not getting out.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

Story #79 "Mapping My Childhood"

That was a creative writing exercise from my tutor, and it's a mix of fiction and real-life events.

There was a heavy wooden bookcase in the living room of our old two-bedroom, creaky dusty shelves storing all kinds of books - detective stories, thrillers, romances that would make the most jagged reader blush. I rummaged through it from top to bottom and stopped my gaze on “Hatter’s Castle” by Archibald Cronin, a hefty volume of blue color - the book my younger self, fascinated with British and American literature – devoured whole in one week. Took me another week to digest it, before embarking on Dreiser’s “American Tragedy”.  We’ll get back to that.

Kesha, our green and yellow budgie, was tweeting in his cage as I stood there hypnotizing the book, trying to decide if it was worth a read. As I made up my mind to give it a shot, I sauntered over to the kitchen to boil some water for tea. Benny, our beautiful white mongrel, looked at me with her wet brown eyes – always seemingly sad – and I paused by the door of the kitchen with my manuscript.

Later.

We could look through Hatter’s castle later. Tea could wait too. It was time to walk.

“Hey, let’s go out for a while.”

She didn’t hesitate and jumped on me, pawing my knees excitedly.  I crouched down to be level with her lovely fluffy face and pulled her increments closer. Maybe somewhere in the back of my head, I had already known it would be one of our last times together. As I had known that one sunny day in June, I would forget to pull down the bar of Kesha’s cage while filling his bowl with fresh food, and he would fly away.

We tended to keep the balcony doors open in summer, but I still believed the chances he’d find his way out would be close to nil. Well, fucking stupid of me. But what would you expect from a fourteen-year-old – a clusterfuck of uncertainty and confusion? 

Fourth floor. Eighty-eight steps up and down. Every day for the past six years, and then the next ten. Inside it smelled like dump plaster and cigarette smoke. I used to know all my neighbors by name, the types of plants they had (they asked us to water them when on holiday), and the loudness of their spouses’ voices once a row was in full swing.

Every four weeks it was our turn to sweep the floors of the lobby and wash two flights of stairs. Twenty-two steps. Up and down. I wish we had a rug there, so I could sweep under it all the dirt and humiliation I felt every time I got spotted by a random passerby.

Checking the postbox was the thing I loved best. There were letters and postcards I could read. When I was in high school, newspapers joined them. Later, when I entered the college, catalogs and brochures were added to the pile of the mess our postbox had become.

“What you got there?” The boy from the top floor – the fifth – asked me as he stepped across the narrow two-by-two lobby to check the box of his own.

“Yves Rocher catalog,” I mumbled and he pivoted on his heels swiftly.

“What?”

“Yves Rocher catalog,” I repeated louder and then felt compelled to clarify. “You can buy a lipstick there or a mascara.”

The boy smirked and swept my body down with his eyes, grinning wickedly.

“You think it’ll help?”

At his words, my face started burning. I kept staring at him with eyes wide open, acutely aware that if I closed them for a second, the tears that had already filled the back of my throat would spill over my lashes. I swallowed a sob ready to escape any moment and brushed past the guy, bumping his shoulder painfully with my backpack.

“Fuck you.”

Story #58 is a super boring CPE report

Introduction

The purpose of this report is to assess the facilities of the “Garden Park” and outline a number of recommendations for improvement that would attract more visitors if implemented. The conducted investigation revealed the following. 

Stalls with food

The park has an extensive network of multicultural stalls of food throughout its area. Mainly, customers have been satisfied with the variety of dishes and beverages as well as the price range. Nevertheless, long queues during peak times might be taken into account as a possible concern, especially in respect to the atrium space.

Suggested action

The installation of several more stalls will be beneficial as it would reduce the waiting time in the busiest quarters of the park.

Bike rental services

Bike rental services are the park's primary entertainment currently available for visitors. Despite the abundance in the number of bicycles, their usage has decreased recently. It appears that the problem occurred due to the absence of electronic payment terminals.

Suggested action

I therefore strongly recommend looking into the possibility of implementing an acquiring payment system as an alternative to payments in cash. 

Playgrounds

There have been several complaints concerning the safety of “Garden Park’s” playgrounds, in particular, their suitability for infants and younger children. Some facilities available for minors are regarded by parents as health-threatening, which leads to their neglect of using them.

Suggested action

In the light of the information gathered, I would propose that we hang sign plates to indicate the age suitability of stated areas.

Conclusion

On the basis of the points mentioned above, it would seem appropriate to regard the implementation of the suggested improvements as they could increase the attendance of the park and enhance its premises for future visitors’ ventures.

(word count 288)

Story #55 is a one-shot #2 written at the X-Files writer's workshop in 15 minutes.

They were standing by the sea. Coffee cups in hands. She caught herself thinking she was drinking so much coffee these days it could start oozing out of her ears. 

“You know, there was a time when I thought I would love to retire in a place like that. Opening my tiny cozy coffee spot, talking to people, reading books, brewing fresh coffee and tea.”

“You’d be bored to death in a span of a few weeks. A. coffeeshop and you, Mulder, is a parallel universe, no less.”

“I could write something.”

She ignored him, lost in a reverie of her own.

“People don’t even sit at coffee shops anymore, Mulder, it’s all grab and go. Life is too hectic, they won’t talk to you.”

“No, no, Scully, it would be different here. I just know. You could bake some gingerbread, and we would have books everywhere, and they would sit and read, you know, and then ask for a refill.”

The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming. 

“What on earth are you talking about? Coffee? Books?”

This is how she knew. It was anything but their reality. It was anyone but her Mulder.

“Your life is aliens. You are not married to coffee, Mulder. You are married to your work. Files and all.” He turned to her, a confused look on his face.

“See you in the basement.”

The portal opened behind and she stepped in, still feeling a strong tang of the sea in the air.

Story #70 is a message to the mothers of boys.

To the mothers of boys

I am a mother of a wonderful boy of six years. I often hear people, husband included, referring to our son as a mummy’s boy, a term I find derogatory. “You are too gentle to him,” “You are raising a wuss,” “Don’t kiss him. Don’t hug him. Don’t hold hands. Take your pick.

Friends, relatives, and even strangers dare to point their fingers at the fact that my son and I nurture a close bond as if it is something filthy. For reasons which elude me, mother-son closeness is severely stigmatized in our society. 

You encourage your son to try a new hobby and people say you’re meddling with him. You let him cry on your shoulder when he scraped his knee and they say you’re coddling him. You buy him a long-wanted toy and they say you are smothering him. A mother that keeps her son “too close” feminizes him and discourages the development of his manhood. In the world of masculinity, a big macho man is a poster child for success, yet a man who is able to express his feelings freely and be susceptible to the emotions of others is a loser.

This is simply not true. No one is ever going to become oversensitive and maladjusted from being loved and treated with care. Contrary to popular belief, boys who don’t suppress their emotions won’t become clingy wimps hiding under their mother’s skirt – they will turn out to be better equipped to navigate their lives and be empathetic spouses. 

Love won’t hurt. It will heal. So I'm just going to hug my son some more and tell him how much I love him.

Are you a mother of a boy? Maybe you should do the same then.

Story #1 “A Local Hero”.

This one was originally written as a part of my CPE training. It’s based on a true story, and I do love the way it turned out; however, it’s fair for most of my pieces.

___

Daniel Watzlav never planned to be a hero. He didn’t expect his life to change overnight, taking twists and turns like in an action-packed movie. It was more of a downward spiral reversing steadily until the point of no return was reached. In the summer of 2000, he took his daughter Liz to explore the Kungur’s cave in the suburbs of his home city Perm. They spent a night at the campsite, a fire cracking at their feet and a canopy of stars above their heads.

Anything can change your life forever. It can be something big like falling in love. Or something so teeny-tiny that it doesn’t even leave a mark. Like a bite of a rabid bat. Upon returning home from their holiday in the embrace of nature, Liz started exhibiting symptoms of a virus-like infection. Doctors failed to identify the root cause of her condition until it was too late. The girl died of rabies. 

It might sound awfully cliché, but as a loving parent, her father wanted to commemorate his daughter’s memory. While Liz was undergoing treatment in a hospital, Daniil became a first-hand witness of the sorry state of affairs of medical facilities. Little patients were surrounded by nothing but faceless white walls and stiff plastic chairs for parents in hallways. Daniil poured all his grief and sorrow into the project of building a state-of-the-art children’s hospital where parents would be welcomed into the healing process, and children would have buoyant space to recover that felt like home. It took another two years for the Elizaveta Watzlav Children’s Hospital to open.

Daniil played a pioneering role in addressing the problem of restricting parents’ access to their children once they were admitted to the clinic. Not only did the Elizaveta hospital become a template for all the following world-class children’s medical facilities built, but it also set the health system on track towards designing special parents’ houses on the grounds of the existing hospitals not to separate the minors with their next of kin. So, is Daniil a hero? Indeed.  But then again, do you need to be a hero to help others with all your heart?  

Story #57 "You gotta stay away from work to work better"

Said A. in our yesterday’s lesson when I asked her about Women's Day. Hell, yeah, I replied, would be nice but kind of hard to do your work not working it. We laughed it off and got back to our good old lexical items but the thought stuck. 

It played on the loop later as well, when I thought back to my last year's holiday. And two years back. And basically all the holidays of the last 10 years. The first thing I pack with me is my laptop. I take it out to the airport to check the student's homework. I take it out on the plane to outline a workshop. I take it out in a hotel to upload some extra materials for them and then write some more. 

The children run around asking for a cable car trip, or a dip in a swimming pool. The husband is pulling me under the blanket in his subtle attempt to make out with his seemingly relaxed pre-holiday wife. The dog we don’t have (thank god!) scratching the door desperately to remind us about its basic needs, would complete the picture perfectly. 

Yet, I have my laptop on my knees. The wheels are already set in motion while I’m getting ready for my lesson in the room I set up for my study in our two-bedroom suite. 

That begs the question - why the hell is it so hard not to work at all? And If I strip myself of any opportunities to be engaged in any work-related environment, can I break that vicious cycle? 

What’s your holiday like, guys? Is it a real work-free holiday or do you tend to squeeze in a few lessons/homework checks/course supervising/etc. in between a morning beach stroll and an evening family dinner?

Story #64 "Living a Life of Interruptions"

I wish I could say that writing comes naturally to me, and with a click of my fingers, I shift my mind into the subspace where my silly ramblings magically turn into coherent ideas.

Much to my chagrin, I can barely find time to transmit a few sentences to my journal on a daily basis. It should be easy, isn’t it? After all, you do it with everything else in your life - exercising, hobbies like reading or knitting, your work for crying out loud!

But…come on, in all candor, when are you ever alone? Exactly.

Peace and quiet is a gossamer door into a parallel reality allowed to exist in your head only. I’m hardly alone even when I pee, much less so when it comes to all my aforementioned ventures.

I live a life of interruptions. I’m interrupted when I read, when I run on a treadmill or sweat over another set of crunches or when I take a shower.

Notifications. Messages. Ads. Kids. Random thoughts. Things you forgot. Things you must not forget. Reminders. Whether these are your children, pawing through your desk with their little hands and naked curiosity or something else, be brutally honest with yourself - you are constantly bombarded with interruptions.

Is there a way out? There must be some, right? Mine is to write in the wee wee hours when everyone is asleep. In the dark and gloomy confines of my kitchen, surrounded by the smell of freshly brewed coffee that slips into my pores and receptors of my nostrils, I have found my safe place for writing. I’m all by my lonesome, and I love every minute of it.

I disciplined myself into writing. And if the muse happens to hover over my shoulder, I grab that resentful bitch by the neck and keep doing my thing, because if I don’t, she will slam the door shut out of my creative space so loudly that it will leave the void so vast, it will echo.

Be kind to yourself. No disparaging remarks. Only courteous behavior and soft-spoken words are welcome in that sacred place where creativity is harvested. Enjoy the crackling freedom you regain, when once evanescent thoughts, finally transform into actual printed letters, demystifying every nook and cranny of your brain.

That, indeed, is real magic.