Story #22 Which Is A CPE Essay "Music"

Story #76. Based on the prompt: 'Surprise!' They cried, leaping out from behind the door.

“Surprise!” They cried leaping out from behind the door, and the glass of water she was holding, slipped out of her grasp and shuttered.  She bolted down to clean the mess and peered sideways at her unsolicited guests shifting from one leg to another. One of them, Tom - she recalled vaguely - tiptoed around the shards and intercepted her hand, reaching for paper napkins in the bottom drawer of the desk. 

“I’ll do that, don’t worry.”

The words broke the spell, prompting others to hurtle towards the couple on the floor. Flowers were put into vases, cake was set on the desk, candles were lit, and presents were stored in the corner of the room. 

“Didn’t mean to scare the shit out of you.”  Someone offered and the woman huffed a laugh.

She took a moment to meander around the office, gauging mentally whether she’d be able to take all the wrapped-up boxes and bouquets to her car in one go and then backed up and plonked down on the chair. A high tower of a cake leveled her eyes. 

“Make a wish,” Tom encouraged.

I’d like this day to start over, she said in her head and blew the candles.

Story #40, CELTA week 1

And that was… a piece of cake. Let’s see what I’m gonna say when they ask us to write those long-ass lesson plans😂

Anyway, what did we do that first week:

🦋 Cambridge platform online tasks 1. Orientation module; 2. Unit 1: learner’s first; 3. Unit 2: designing tasks (reading).

🦋 Design a lead-in activity for a reading lesson (in a group of three); 🦋 Design an initial reading task and then a detailed reading task (the text was provided, work individually).

🦋 A compulsory live session with a tutor (2 hrs long);

🦋Observation practice of 2 different lessons taught by two different teachers.

There’s an interesting detail I noticed about one of the lessons I observed. The teacher chose to talk about the British Royal family (sans Kate and Megan, and in a moment you will understand why). While showing the photo of the Queen, he asked the students if they knew how old she was. And she was…. Tada!

79!

❓So here is the puzzle for you to solve.

If the Queen was 79 then, and in 2022 she died at the age of 96, what year was the lesson recorded in?

Story #77 is a 6-word memoir

I'm taking a creative writing course with an American specialist now, and the first task she gave us was to write a 6-word memoir.

I came up with the following:

Husband, daughter, son - my three kids.

Wanted a dog. Got a hamster.

Stories written on skin and paper.

Will is my argument, albeit flimsy.

The first one is the real me. The second is about expectations that went unmet. The third is me wanting to remind myself so much of certain things that I tattooed them on my body and put 'em in my diary.

Number four is the story that found its place between my shoulder blades written in Latin "Sic volo, sic jubeo, sit pro ratione voluntas." It was supposed to always keep me on the go, let me always be free and weightless, and be my constant reminder of all the "you can do this". Yet, it only has succeded in keeping me grounded so far. Which is not necessarily a good thing when it stops you from trying to make your dreams come true. Your biggest, most daring dreams ever.

Here I am, reminding myself again. You can do this. There's so much more in store for you. Don't ever stop.

Story #71 is about how I became a member of a 5 AM club.

Whenever I tell people that I usually wake up at the crack of dawn, their eyes go wide like two saucers. I then instantly bombarded with questions of how, why, and who on earth forces me out of my bed at such an ungodly hour. Once the initial shock settles though, and I share that getting up with the sun comes along with turning in with it, I'm rewarded with a look of utter disappointment. It is as if I was supposed to give them a magic pill of how to be an early riser maintaining a routine of a nightcrawler.

Sorry guys, you can’t expect to pop up eureka moments if your body’s basic need for sleep goes unmet. The membership at the club comes with a price - I gotta hit the hay before the ripe hour of ten.

So what’s the catch in being a lark? First and foremost, I have two completely quiet and uninterrupted hours to exercise, read, write and go over my agenda. Today my routine is heavily scripted - not a minute is wasted in vain. I also manage not to skip my breakfast (remember, it’s your most important meal of the day) and hardly ever feel rushed (bonus point: no added stress.) As a result, I feel accomplished well before most people hit the snooze button.

Ironically enough, the miracle morning of my first 5 AM awakening wasn’t miraculous at all. When my daughter was still a toddler, I put her to bed around nine. Since it isn’t uncommon for a newly-minted mother to feel extremely drained by the evening, I usually started snoring even before my little bundle of happiness/misery. As a result, my body had enough time to recharge its batteries, and by 4-5 AM I would wake up well-rested, replenished and all ready to jump on the world. Now I don’t even set an alarm - my biological clock is in perfect tune with my brain.

It’s possible that you already a morning person, it’s just your morning starts at 1 PM. Pun intended and achieved. But, if one day you choose to join the 5 AM club for real, I bet you will never find yourself mourning the fact that you’re no longer sleeping in the morning.

Story 27

The X-files fanfiction "We only heal together" 1/3

Read it on AO3

1.

“Are they sleeping?”

“Oh yes, they are.”

“What are they dreaming about?”

“Their worst nightmare.”

----

The “ping” of the elevator car pulled her out of her reverie and as the doors slid open, she was confused to find the basement floor shrouded in darkness. Stepping out of the lift, Scully groped for the switch on the wall but when she flicked it, nothing happened. 

Darkness pervaded. 

At the end of the hallway, their office was beckoning her with its dim shaft of light peeking from under the door, and she moved towards it as if summoned. 

She expected Mulder, the one who didn’t seem to need much sleep and was always up with the sun, to be there. He would probably be starting the second pot of coffee by that time. Always thoughtful, she brought him a blueberry bran muffin for breakfast. A crack about him being the only person in the whole universe leaving the office after nine and coming in around six of his own volition was on the tip of her tongue. She was looking forward to their routine exchange of banter and innuendoes.

As Scully opened the door, the light from the overhead lamps spilt out into the hallway, chasing away the shadows to corners. Spending seven years in that office, she knew it inside out, but that moment she felt like a stranger. It was their office, and yet it wasn’t. Gone was the stale dusty air and little puncture holes on the ceiling from Mulder’s pencils, and even the fluorescent tube lamps blinking constantly as of recently seemed to be changed. There were two mahogany desks facing one another in the center of the room and a potted plant in the corner. Scully didn’t remember ever placing it there. She couldn’t even remember her partner putting in a request for a second desk. 

Mulder himself was nowhere to be seen. In passing, she entertained the idea of Mulder wanting to surprise her thus the desk and all the cleaning. The ludicrous idea her logical mind immediately rejected. It just wasn’t possible. They had left he office together the day before, around lunchtime, grabbed a quick bite in the nearby deli, and headed to investigate another case ending up on a damnably boring stakeout.

There was a lead into what Mulder suspected could be anything from hypnosis to telekinesis to possession. The victims claimed they were made to do terrible things against their will. One guy beat his boss half to death, but couldn’t even remember what induced such aggressive behavior. When he entered the office the next day, ready to come clean in front of everyone and make his colleagues report him to the police, his boss was there, not a scratch on his face. The face allegedly smashed to puree no more than a day before.

“A nightmare,” Scully said unimpressed. “Or wishful thinking. They probably had some beef and their hostility manifested itself in a very realistic dream. Not unheard of.”

“One for two?” It was Mulder’s turn to raise a brow. “The thing is, Scully, both remember everything down to the smallest detail, and claim they did some severe punching and kicking.”

It appeared to be worth the time to talk to the people involved, which eventually shed light on some other facts - a few hours prior to the fight, the company’s employees took part in a one-day team-building seminar conducted by two personal development coaches, who also happened to be a married couple. The agents didn’t get any insights into the case upon interrogating Maria and Sebastian Portaverro, but since their possible suspects were about to carry out another workshop, Mulder and Scully decided to stay close and check the participants afterward.

They were sitting in a car across the building where the Portaverros had an office. No matter how much she tried, Scully couldn’t remember anything that happened during or after that. She remembered being in a car with Mulder, and then she was standing in the elevator. The absurdity of the situation was bugging her -  the changes in the office, the fact that she couldn’t remember getting back home the night before, or even arriving at work in the morning - everything was wrong. A glance at her watch told her that Mulder should have been here hours ago. Where was he? She needed him to help her figure it all out. 

Trying to stay calm and not to spiral into panic, Scully decided to do what she always did best  - collect and analyse the data. Stepping over to what was supposed to be Mulder’s desk, she touched the pristine wooden surface. Instantly she knew that something was wrong. Mulder’s desk was never that clean. There was no junk. It was too tidy. Too not Mulder. The papers were put in an orderly pile, and Mulder never bothered to organize his desk’s contents in such an impeccable manner. Even office paraphernalia was scattered around in a weirdly neat way as if each object was placed in its spot, on purpose. On a whim, Scully pulled open the first drawer and felt her stomach shrivel in dread. There were none of Mulder’s most prized belongings. Not even his ever-present sunflower seeds. Scully was horrified as it sank that the only thing she was familiar with in that office was their all-time favorite full-sized “I want to believe” poster. Did someone violate their office while they were on a stakeout? To what end?

As if out of nowhere something clicked and the room was plunged into darkness. Scully recognized the sound as their old-fashioned projector came to life and started switching slides, changing the images rapidly, lighting and darkening the room in turn. It was them - Mulder and Scully. The photos flicked on the screen like memories in her head. The most significant, valuable, delightful moments of both their lives. Imprisoned by the retrospection playing out on the wall in front of her, Scully stood still, frozen. With each image, she was sent to relive her past sensory experiences all over again.

Click, and she was opening the door and looking at the agent she was assigned to work with. Their first meeting. A mixture of curiosity and caution in his hazel eyes behind the wire-rimmed  glasses.

Click, and they were in Oregon, standing in the graveyard under the rain.

Click. They were in a van and Mulder was dressed in a bulletproof vest handing her his gun.

Click, and they were sitting on the bench in a small town of Home talking about their genetic

makeup and potential parenthood.

Click, and there was a hallway in a hospital in Allentown where their words sounded like a confession. 

Click, and there was another time and other woods somewhere in Florida where she, who couldn’t carry a tune, was singing because Mulder asked her to.

Click, and they were in California, burying the daughter she had never known.

Click. “You’re my one in five billion.”

Click. Another hallway, another greatest wish never granted - their aborted kiss.

Click. He was pleading with her not to make him choose.

Click. Mulder’s high as a kite I-love-you.

Click. A hospital bed. Again. His head was on her hip, her hand was in his hair.

Click, and they were dragging their eyes over each other in the decontamination shower.

Click. She was sobbing in his arms, the floor was stained with her blood.

Click. They were exchanging vows on the threshold of his apartment.

Scully pivoted her back to the screen, unable to take it anymore. What kind of sick joke was that? It felt too much. Too personal. Too them. How was it possible to sum up the history of them so succinctly in a few slides? Who the hell played those tricks on them? Her legs went wobbly and she braced herself against Mulder’s desk.

There was another click and all of a sudden the basement was brightly lit again. Scully made a complete 180 and was face to face with Mulder, his tall figure looming over the entryway. “How long has he been standing there? Did he see that too?” There was an ominous look in his eyes, and a foreboding sense of horror permeated the air, but Scully ignored all of that. This was Mulder. He wouldn’t hurt her. The projector kept clicking the slides but with the light back on, it was nearly impossible to make out the images on the wall.

Trying to pay no heed to a knot of anxiety agitating inside, Scully took a few tentative steps toward her partner. Noticing some lint on his shoulder, she reached out to brush it off when he grabbed her arm harshly. 

“Mulder,” Scully gasped and stopped dead in her tracks at the threat that emanated from Mulder’s demeanor. 

Story #69, which is a positive travel experience.

“Look, we gotta go there,” said my travel buddy Katya showing me the first photo that came out as she googled Austria. The photo showed the tiny alpine village of Hallstatt, nestled between a mountain and a lake with a mouthful of a name. 

The vista rendered me speechless and was enough of a reason to say yes to a holiday, yes to Austria, yes to Hallstatt.

Between us, Katya and I have five kids and the power to move mountains when it comes to traveling without them. Ironically enough, our choice fell on that postcard-perfect Instagram-worthy place at the heart of the Alps. 

Three train journeys, two soaked-through backpacks, and one ferry cruise across the lake later, we finally arrived in Hallstatt. The place, included in the top ten places to visit while in Austria, miraculously wasn’t swamped with tourists. We took a leisurely funicular ride to the skywalk observation deck, enjoyed a cup of Viennese coffee with a piece of the Sachertorte, walked up the path for another hour, and then set off on a hike back, all the way snapping away left, right and center.  

Snap and we were 900 meters above sea level. 

Snap and we were inside an old salt mine. 

Snap and we stood in front of the stained glass windows of the old Protestant Church on the main square.

Snap and we were back home, locking away new precious moments in a memory box along with a few hundreds of photos capturing those unforgettable instants. 

can you recommend any good case file fic with established msr relationship???? your archive is a gift to this fandom btw THANK YOU

Mulder, Scully, and Case File RST

Eyyyyyy, here you go, anon!

@debbierhea/theexfilesbabe/iamalittleonedge’s october - full series

He’s shivering as she approaches, the blanket curled around his snoozing fox form, hair sticking out like a tail. She pushes his hair back and whispers his name, tells him to go get in her bed where it’s warm. She watches him, sleepy-eyed and vulnerable, as he makes his way to where her bed is an oasis of warmed goose feathers.

Post S5 Mulder and Scully spend an October, week-by-week, on the road and in each other's company. (While not strictly RST, it's a gentle, autumnal slow burn that, I think, counts.)

sarah_segretti/Sarah Segretti's The Current Temperature in Downtown Washington (Ao3, Xanadu)

The informant, a slightly paunchy middle-aged man with a rich Blue Ridge accent, a true local, droned on. Scully appeared to be listening raptly, but Mulder knew the look - he'd been on the receiving end more than once, and with him, it usually meant she was about to shred another one of his theories.

He knew what was wrong. They were too close to FEMA headquarters, and that made him think of Dallas, and Antarctica - and he hadn't expected to feel this way. His nightmares on that particular topic had stopped weeks ago.

Post Fight the Future Scully is determined to pick up Mulder's mood... although the "case", its unpleasant associations, and their meal afterward underscores the wounds both of them are still licking clean. (Though not strictly RST, the underlying understanding between them is undeniably bent in that direction.)

@lotsoforangesoutside/@lotzzoforangezoutside‘s (Ao3) Detoured: Arcadia (Tumblr)

Scully looks at him expectantly, and he kind of likes it a little. She never looks at him like that, like he’ll MacGyver them out of this sticky mess.

It is a sticky mess. A very sticky mess.

Arcadia Mulder is torn over the fake (and real) relationship he must project with Scully.

@aloysiavirgata's (Ao3, WBM, Gossamer, LJ, Alt. LJ) The Waters of Babylon, Petrichor, and Singing of Mount Abora

Beside him comes a rustle of paper. Scully’s printed out directions from MapQuest, checking off turns like a shopping list. “Still another three miles before the access road,” she says, not looking up from her trim navy-blue lap. She takes a sip of coffee.

Mulder coughs, says nothing. Things aren’t strained exactly, it’s not that. It’s more a liminal space. Everything’s fine, he tells himself. Everything’s fine.

He  checks his hair again.

Mulder and Scully's relationship slowly melds together, from reflective, post-Arcadia memories to tentative, post-Amor Fati consummation to stinging, miraculous post-IVF hope.

Obfusc8er's Deus ex Machina

The black, writhing shade shot out fingers of darkness, exploding into thousands of swirling entities. The light from the window was doused by the mass of evil in the room. Scully gasped, nearly dropping the phone from her hand. She stood transfixed, paralyzed by shock and fear. The volume of the chorus in her ear grew louder, and the obscure shapes grew more frantic, circling with tremendous speed.

Scully is awash with horror while on a routine Kersh detail.

Jo-Ann Lassiter's The Death of Me Yet

It was a bull moose, and it was big. And it was standing about ten feet away, smack in the middle of the trail. Even if Scully hadn't read the literature on vehicle/moose collisions and the ensuing human fatalities, she would have chosen to avoid something twice her height and weight--jeep and Mulder included.

She slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel sharply to the right, in the only direction that wouldn't get them killed outright. The change in terrain was drastic.

Kersh forces Mulder on a case, despite his ill health. With Scully as her partner's shadow, the two try to escape the woods, their safety and the approaching dark (and its monster) driving them further and further down a mountain.

TessMooreXF's Armadillo Season

She mused that it must be armadillo season, for all the hardened little corpses that had dotted the sides of the highway on her journey from Dallas. 

Post The Rain King Kersh assigns the duo to an unexpectedly twisted case.

Wylfcynne's Imagine

"You aren't getting free until we have a clear MRI," she said calmly.

Mulder exploded in rage, screaming, cursing, struggling violently. On the status monitor, everything began to escalate. Three Project doctors came running in, alerted by the system alarms, and stopped, awed at the violence they were witnessing.

Post S.R. 819 Mulder and Scully are intercepted, kidnapped, and tortured while on a cult assignment. She helps to rescue her partner, but not before he is infected with black oil.

@danascullysjournal/Paper_hearts_and_homemade_arts's If You Will Let Me (Tumblr)

Padgett’s face faded to the pale, chilled skin of the corpse she had inspected three days ago.  He grinned at her with lifeless eyes.  His fingers pressed deeper inside her chest, and red spattered his sunken face.

“I am… in you…”  The lips of the cadaver did not move.  She sensed his voice ringing inside her head.

Post Milagro Mulder and Scully slowly begin to recover... but are then thrust into more disastrous supernatural circumstances. (While not strictly post-RST, this fits along those lines.)

cropcircle's Secrets in Seattle

“This must be terrible for you just laying here, Mulder,” Scully said.

“I can’t wait until this is over. If only to get this wretched cast off my arm.” ‘And to pick up where we left off when Skinner interrupted us,’ Mulder thought to himself. “I wish I could help you more.”

Post Millennium Mulder is kidnapped while Scully investigates a hospital case. (While this isn't strictly post-RST, it does end along those lines.)

Beshter's Seasons: Seventh

"Fear doesn't have to be complicated." Mulder was already into the bag of cashews, clearly pleased with what he found.

"I know that, but it did make me think about the things we fear. What sort of fears do the average people have? Would it be enough to terrify me to death?"

"Would they?" Mulder asked around a mouthful of nuts.

Post Millennium Mulder and Scully spend the rest of Season 7 figuring out the new parameters of their new relationship.

@slippinmickeys/SlippinMickeys/Slippin' Mickeys's The Unseelie Court

It hadn’t been fair of her to seduce him, though it had been a glacial, intellectual courtship, inevitable, really, in every sense of the word. Mulder was tender-hearted and obsessive and after their second time together, she should have known that no amount of her stoicism or sense of workplace propriety would keep them from wanting to be together all the time. Last night, she’d had a foot out the door and was pushing him away with one hand and pulling him back with the other, his fingers tangled in her hair in rapacious bliss. 

They still weren’t sure how to be with each other, and that morning they’d walked down to Mulder’s car in a loaded, restless silence. 

In this on-going chapter fic, Mulder and Scully investigate a fae x-file, the first after their under-the-table consummation.

subtlealchemy/weetown's a trick of the light

She had been avoidant, too, of facing the reality of Mulder’s condition being her fault. Even though she knows deep down that it isn’t, that she had not meant for any of it to happen, it somehow still is her fault. 

She had been the one holding the gun, after all. And her unchecked and lonesome guilt had only expanded and nourished itself in the dark, sated in the span of two nights.

Two nights spent drifting in and out of sleep on rough, sun-dried dirt with her fistful of Mulder’s bloodied sleeve that said, Stay here, even though he had been mostly unconscious and all but about to get up and go somewhere.

Mulder and Scully investigate claims of woodland magic.

Analise's (Alt. Tumblr, Colonization HQ) Haunted House

Then a rattle. Pipes groaned and protested in rusty appeals and then a thin trickle of water burbled out of the faucet. She cupped her hands under the stream and splashed it onto her cheeks, washing the remains of her makeup off. Her hair was starting to dry in long scraggly strands around her oval face and since a shower was not an option, she ran her hairbrush through the red strands until they gleamed in the candlelight. Pulling her toothbrush out she leaned back over the sink to wet the bristles and froze.

Blood was coming out of the faucet.

Mulder and Scully find themselves in a right-from-the-movies spooky mansion, with events ramping up, not slowing down, the longer the night goes on.

@piecesofscully/PiecesOfScully's Ravenous

The scratching against the wall behind them started low, as if it was coming from under the cot they sat on, like thick nails desperately attempting to burrow through the wooden barrier. Scully’s heart beat faster, through the wood she felt the scratching gradually work its way up to her lower back, clawing up behind her spine to just above her head, then stopped. A chill ran the same path up her spine as a whisper came from just above their heads.

“Skuhhhh.”

It was only a matter of time before Mulder and Scully stumbled on another creature in the woods... but is there only one?

@syntax6's (Gossamer, FFN, omniscribe) The Man Without a Trace (omniscribe)

Mulder slackened his hold on Scully and looked at the crumpled comic book again. Sure enough, at the bottom it read, "Starring Rocky Miller and McKenzie Sally."

Post First Person Shooter Mulder and Scully find out that TLG turned them into profitable comic book characters... and stumbled on a case at Comic Con.

doctorhelena's Something In Between

Scully bit her lip and willed herself not to imagine again what would have happened if Skinner hadn't taken a leap of faith. Mulder was insistent. "What would I have mutated into if you hadn't stopped it - how many of those people are out there? People who already have identities, but who won't be reported missing by their family and friends, because they’re already dead. People who can infiltrate themselves easily into society and nobody will ever know the difference. This is huge, Scully. And I don't -" he cut off, watching her face. His eyes were alive.

"How can you-" she asked. "Mulder, how can you just - you were almost -" She couldn't talk. Her throat had closed up again. 

Post Deadalive Mulder, Scully, and Doggett begin investigating other "dead" and buried abductees.

aka Jake/aka_Jake/aka 'Jake''s Reprise

"...I’m done with all that. I no longer chase aliens.”

“This isn’t about aliens.”

“Does it matter?”

“It’s a mutant.”

She returned to sorting clothes, plucking matching socks from the pile, glad that Katie was asleep in bed and not listening in on this all-too-familiar conversation.

“A liver-eating mutant,” he added.

Post My Struggle IV Mulder and Scully tackle an old foe they thought was long dead.

AUs

aRcaDIaNFall$'s (Alt. Tumblr) Meeting This Way, These Ungodly Hours, Something Challenging, Full Circle

"So, what's the procedure for this sort of thing?"

"Procedure?" "

You know... Interviewing somebody. Getting Kayleen to agree to an examination."

"Depends on the person. Sometimes you need to tread carefully, sometimes you need to push."

She smiled. "Which category did I fall into?"

"Both. I had to make a whole new category, just for you."

AU-- Mulder becomes a reoccurring patient to ER doctor Scully. Their friendship blossoms, their relationship blooms, and she agrees to consult on a case.

CaptainLyssa's To FBI or Not To FBI

Rolling her eyes, Scully had seen the female agent leaving Mulder’s room as she exited the elevator this morning. Patrice, Mulder’s nurse assured Scully the visit had been brief and she’d gained little information about Mulder’s condition from the staff. It seemed the rumours worked in Scully’s favour in this instance.

AU-- Scully is a worn-down ER nurse that strikes up a random, fast-paced relationship with enigmatic but deeply-committed Special Agent Mulder. His sudden hospitalization, her secret pregnancy, and Diana Fowley's unwanted appearance (almost) shakes her faith in her new partner.

theramblinrose's MSR Collection

“You’re supposed to be at the hospital, Scully. I was coming as soon as…”

He broke off like he’d simply run out of words. He was coming as soon as—as soon as he could, as soon as they found Samantha, as soon as he knew what was happening.

AU-- Post One Breath Mulder and Scully begin a relationship; and very soon after discover (during the events of Aubrey) that she is expecting a little "alien."

LuvTheBeez's (mulderscreek) Snow (mulderscreek)

"Mulder, it never really occurred to me before, and I certainly admire the skill with which you construct that masterpiece you've got going there, but I seem to recall a bit of a phobia you used to have about fire." She placed his mug down on the mantle. "How have you gone from fear to Master Fire Builder?"

"It's all about control, Scully." Mulder paused for a moment as he twisted the life out of another geometrically perfect square of newspaper. "This is our house. This fireplace is a perfect little contained area, inside our house, where one can have a controlled fire that *stays* in control. If I build the fire, I have control over it. I am its master. I *am* Fire Boy."

"You've thought about this before."

AU-- Season 5 Mulder and Scully are married and expecting a very large baby. ...And are forced into a hostage situation.

@virtie333/Virtie333's The Letter, Eyes In the Night, Someday, Wambli

"I didn't want to believe her," Scully smiled tightly. "But she did know where the body was, and she's very convincing. It took a long time before she finally told me HOW she 'saw' him." She looked up at him, confusion in her eyes. "Mulder, she says she can see through the eyes of any living animal. That she can transport her consciousness into another living thing and to see what it sees and feel what it feels!" 

"Can she control the mind of the animal she inhabits?" Mulder had heard of people who could transfer like this. 

"No," Scully shook her head. "She says she's just 'along for the ride'. Sometimes she can tweak its curiosity a bit, but that's all."

AU-- Post Orison Scully leaves for an ASAC position when Mulder doesn't ask her to stay. But not to worry: they are reunited a year later for a case, then another, then the explosion of the mytharc.

Khyber's Reach + Sokol (Reach, Sokol 1/2, Sokol 2/2, Sokol - Dancing Skeleton Day, Sokol - Terminus Post Quem)

"Light plane crash, Washington. Less than an hour ago. Apparently we should be there. He said to do an autopsy."

"Did you recognize the voice?" "

Whoever it was knew I was here."

AU-- Mulder and Scully take the next step after a rough, disturbing case involving a fifteen-year-old. From there, their lives only get more complicated as the Consortium closes in.

@writingwell/RocketMan/Darkstryder's (Xanadu)

It's Been . . . 01, It's Been . . . 02, It's Been . . . 03

Mulder blinked and looked at her, then shook his head.

"I have a headache."

She glanced quickly into the basment, then stopped still, shocked as she watched Nick Hazel sway before an enormous fire, sweat and dirt dripping from him in a sensuous, serpentine motion. She felt herself being pulled into the hypnotic dance of the fire and closed her eyes, tight.

Then backed away, grabbing for Mulder.

AU-- A ditch-and-dash injury changes the course of Mulder's life: recovery, marriage, a Floridian honeymoon, and an arsonist case upon their return.

WrappedInTheWind, WrappedInTheWindWhirl, WrappedInTheWindIII, WrappedInTheWindIV, WrappedInTheWind_CryingStone (Xanadu)

That was the good day. The only good day. I should have paid better attention to that day because it was a long time before that day would come again, a better day, a day with hope.

AU-- Post En Ami CSM hands over a baby of mysterious origins to Mulder. Scully resists her partner's domestic inclinations at first, but caves-- although adoption and subsequent marriage don't stop on-the-job injuries and heart-wrenching biological connections.

@rationalcashew/RationalCashew's Dark is the Way; Light is the Place (Tumblr)

Scully could feel Mulder watching her from the other side of the desk. He’d been doing it for the last week. At first, she thought it was sweet. Now, it was just annoying.

“Mulder…” she warned, cocking an eyebrow at him from over the file in her hand.

“What?” He asked innocently.

“You’re staring.”

“We’re having a baby,” he replied simply.

“Yes, we are. But, that doesn’t mean I can work with you staring at me constantly."

AU-- Although Requiem Mulder rushes back to Scully, their combined joy over an unexpected miracle becomes intertwined with frustration over a challenging, and pointedly dangerous, serial killer case.

Lapsed_Scholar's Season 9 Rewrites and Musings

Dana sighed. “I suppose this is one of those cases in which not everything is fully, satisfactorily explained. We can only make an educated guess that matches a preponderance of the evidence. Which is a foundational principle I have to somehow instill in my intro to forensic pathology students in...about five minutes, actually.” She carefully passed William (who had apparently tired of her hair and fallen asleep) to Mulder and stood up.

His eyes were shining when he smirked up at her. “How do you plan on doing that? You just gonna write ‘Uncertainty’ on the board, Scully?”

She shot him a look that had too much underlying affection to be truly quelling. 

AU-- Season 9 Mulder never leaves; and he and Scully (and William) are pulled into the Doggett-Reyes cases, despite his reluctance.

@dreamingofscully's Surely, to the sea 

When Mulder switched off the ignition, oppressive silence weighed down upon them - no birds, no chirping insects. She hadn’t noticed under the roar of the engine and the trepidation that she fought to control. Staring ahead and swallowing thickly, she forced herself to analyze the evidence they’d acquired so far. Perhaps the same thing that interfered with their radio drove away wildlife. 

AU-- Married paranormal investigators Mulder and Scully lodge with a suspiciously odd man who is always licking his fingers.

Thanks for reading¬

Enjoy!

Story #66 "You are what you eat"

A cliche that sounds like a broken record. Well, I’m sorry to break it to you, but yes, you are. 

I’ll have to go back here to explain my point. In 2014 I was diagnosed with Cholinergic Urticaria (CU). CU is a reaction of your skin to an increase in your body temperature, resulting in tiny hives. They are itchy, swollen, and they cover you from head to toe, lasting from thirty minutes to two hours. I typically got them when I exercised, was extremely stressed or while taking a hot shower.

There’s no documented cure from CU. You just have to learn how to live with it. And I did.

In February 2023, after another regular run on a treadmill, I noticed that my skin was totally fine. No red itchy bumps closing together, nothing. For the first time in almost a decade, my skin was clean. To say I was surprised would be an understatement out of proportion. I thought that NOT having my body FAILED me, was a FAILURE in itself.

Over the following days I tested it with vigorous workouts, hot baths and sauna visits. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Now, four months later, I finally believe it. 

Do I know why it’s gone? I don’t. Do I believe that my immune system rebooted and my diet was a big part of it? Yes, I do. 

It dates back to my adolescent years when I started modeling. First, it was about trying to follow the elusive 90-60-90 standard, then about fighting acne off my skin and gastritis off my stomach. Today, I allow myself to have cheat meals and late-night snacks here and there, but what you MOSTLY won’t find in my diet is

🦋gluten 

🦋sugar

🦋red meat 

🦋dairy 

🦋tea 

Over the years things like checking the labels in a supermarket and having veggies and fruit in abundance at home have become my second nature. Whether it’s a curse or a blessing, I’m totally obsessed with what’s on my plate.

I’m a great believer in the theory that our body is capable of curing itself once you create the conditions for that. So, if there’s something to cure and you’re considering where to start, start with what’s on your plate. As simple as that. Your problems might not disappear overnight, but, little by little, they’re bound to get better.

Story #67 is about all the would have beens in my life.

Everything changed. 

For better or worse is a pending question. 

My typical day now is more or less the same flurry of commotion as for any other teacher slash blogger. I teach Present Perfect and Conditionals, check CPE essays, attend another how to organize your language classroom webinar or let’s-read-or-write-or-watch-together club. However, unlike those multitaskers who somehow manage to tick every box on the list, I always have something in between. 

That something is kids. Every bullet point of my agenda is broken by “feed the kids,” “walk the kids,” “wash the kids,” and “do a million other things with kids.” And believe me, you better do, otherwise they will howl like werewolves on a full moon until someone finally draws a gun and shoots the poor bastards.

I could have done so much more with my life if I hadn’t had kids. I would have written the book I had been putting off for a decade. I would have designed a few writing courses of my own. I would have set up a gazillion of new projects. At the very least, I would have felt marginally less frazzled, drained and comatose.

Where’s that Jen who dreamed about driving along the Atlantic coast in a speeding red convertible, doing a Master’s in LSE and living in Belgravia right across Westminster Abbey? Does she know what my life would have been like if I had made other choices? Does she know what I would have missed?

It took me years to make peace with all the uncertainty those questions brought to my life, but I accepted the idea of only one true choice - all the roads would have eventually taken me right here, to this moment, when I’m sitting and typing that post. 

Indeed, my life is a far cry from anything I have imagined, yet it’s perfect in its failures. 

And even if I could turn back time, I wouldn’t change a day.

Story #53, In the Silence of the Night 2/2

This is The X-Files fanfiction. Read it on AO3

She has no doubts that Mulder knows how to touch her mind.

She suspects that he keeps under wraps a few tricks on how to touch her soul.

But how is it possible that he’s never touched her body before, yet he can play it like a fine musical instrument? With unerring precision, he recognizes all the right keys to touch and strings to pull. Her body, mind, and soul sing the most sonorous chords all at once. Only in his arms.

If he can make her vibrate all the way down to her toes with just one kiss, what's going to happen when they take it to the bedroom? Oh, boy.

Scully straddles his lap and in a matter of seconds, their clothes end up in heaps on the floor of her living room.

Fingertips, calloused and tender, map the soft curves and hard muscles; eyes, hazel, and baby-blue, trail over the cream and bronze canvases of skin; lips deliciously full, devour hungrily over each other.

In his hands, he holds a microcosm of the ocean of pleasure that comes to wash her in tides.

With tender fingers, he caresses the undersides of her breasts - thumbs sliding over the hard nipples - then moves them down to rest on that sweet spot where her waist goes to her hips, and eventually encircles her back. Their bodies touch head-to-toe and the sweet fragrance of her skin fills him to the brim with each inhale.

“God, you are so beautiful,” Mulder whispers, tightening his arms around her and kissing her soft, fruit-scented hair.

“Should we take it to the bedroom? You know, there’s a bed in this apartment.”

In reply, he dips his nose into her neck and nips gently on the sensitive skin beneath her ear, hands still roaming along the pale expanse of her back. As they settle on the luscious cheeks of her lace-covered bottom, he gives them a firm squeeze and lifts his head off her shoulder to look into her eyes.

“I want to take you to the ocean, Scully.”

Scully smiles, her eyes crinkling with amusement. That’s clearly not what she expected to hear.

“Ocean?”

“Yes. To spend a day on the beach. To see the milky skin of your arms and shoulders become crowded with peach-colored freckles, and your russet hair lighten in the sun.”

“You are such a romantic, Mulder.” She chuckles, rubbing his nose affectionately in an Eskimo kiss.

“Should we call Skinner and tell him we are going on holiday together?”

“Mulder, at this point you can ask me to call Skinner and tell him I believe in aliens, and I’ll blithely agree. You have me that high on dopamine.”

One of her hands drifts down his sternum and brushes an impressive bulge through the rough denim of his pants. Mulder whimpers.

“Can we please not bring Skinner into our bed?” Scully murmurs into his ear, and the tone of her voice alone makes him squeal.

“Deal.  And we are on the sofa, not in bed.”

“Oh, I stand corrected. Can we please go to bed and not talk about Skinner?”

Mulder slides his hands up her back, over her shoulder blades and neck, until they reach her face and cup her cheeks. His stare suddenly turns serious.

“I know I’m at the risk of sounding a wee bit cynical here, but I don’t wanna be just your easy lay, Scully. This celebration of ours… is it just a one-time thing, or do you think you can… we can… feelings might be involved here?”

There’s a pause of a length of a heartbeat that feels like it lasts hours. Time stretches. That's Mulder’s cue to lay out his cards and just go along with what’s coming next.

“Because I love you, Scully.”

He would expect her to frown. To jump off his lap and put on her clothes back. To ask him to leave and forget everything that’s happened tonight.

He hopes for a kiss instead. 

He’s too afraid to believe she could say it back. Yet, she wouldn’t be his Scully if she didn’t keep him guessing.

“Mulder, I think, we both can agree, by and large, that feelings have been involved here from the very beginning.” At that, she frames his face in return, their foreheads touching.

“There’s some pretty hard evidence here.” She looks down briefly to illustrate the point, and Mulder lets out a nervous chuckle as he follows her gaze.

“That’s quite an astute observation.” He manages to say before her lips land on his in the most sensual kiss he’s ever experienced.

“I see you, Mulder. Always.” She says tethering him with her touch and her words.

“You won’t run for the hills in the morning?”

“I won’t run for the hills in the morning.”

“OK. That quelled my fears a little bit.”

“I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“I’m totally on board with this course of action, Scully, but maybe we should dial it down a bit.” She knits her brows, clearly confused.

“I mean, you are still recovering and…” The rest of the sentence dies, as she chooses that moment to grind against him, and Mulder loses any coherent train of thought.

“You know that you can’t really leave me hanging here, Mulder. Bear in mind the potential repercussions.”

“Oh, Scully, you know how to tug at my heartstrings.”

“I’m kind of hoping to tug at something else here.”

There's some more kissing and smiling. The night is young and promising.

Much much later, in the darkness of her bedroom, they lie under the covers, their bodies satiated and limbs intertwined, and Mulder, still slightly lightheaded, asks:

“Scully, how much would you give me on a scale of ten?”

Somewhere around his armpit, she sighs tiredly, mumbling half-sleepily: “You serious?”

Her eyes are still closed and he nods quite vigorously just to let her know how damn serious he is.

“Well, I think it’s fair to say… In aggregate, I’d score you six points, Mulder.”

“Six? You kidding?”

“You can’t deny a woman four years of sex and emerge unscathed. You’ll have to make it up to me.”

“Oh, I will, Scully. Believe me, I will. Do you think we can start right now?

“Right after I get my beauty sleep. Good night, Mulder.”

“G’night, Scully. Love you.”

She doesn’t say anything in turn, and Mulder thinks that she has fallen asleep and tightens his arms around her. It's more than enough for now, he's happy as he is. The night is silent around them and he closes his eyes, ready for the sleep to claim him.

“I love you too,” breaks through the haze of his dream right before he falls asleep with a content smile on his lips.