I have an idea!! We all love it when Scully borrows(/steals) Mulder’s clothes in fic, but what about Mulder borrowing(/stealing) Scully’s clothes?
Mulder had been a good boy, restlessly applying himself to complete recovery after waking with the scars of smoked-out beetles in his throat. A little over ten days in the hospital-- a record, barring their previous quarantines-- a little under one for the flight home, a little over two to sleep off the return trip, and (he'd assumed) a few more days, a few more meds, a few more teasing touches and everything would be business as usual.
Today had not been a good day.
He'd woken coughing up an ecosystem, lungs burning and head throbbing with each heaving inhalation. Scully had insisted he stay in bed, repositioning him away from the puddle of sweat pooling under his back and mopping away the gunk he spat into his hand. She'd pulled them both back from the vivid recollection of that hand spattered with blood two weeks ago: "Excess mucous production, Mulder-- the membranes in your respiratory tract are irritated. You'll be fine." And she'd willed it so, handing him the full dosage they'd tapered off yesterday and only leaving because he'd insisted she head in to work.
Three hours in, Mulder found his second wind through sheer desperation.
Scooting and sliding his way to the bathroom, the stink of sweat and acidic saliva oozed from every pore of his skin, collected in every fiber of his clothing. His clothes hit the tile with a half-damp plop; and he gripped the sink with one hand while splashing messy water rivulets down his face and back with the other. Too exhausted to pat himself dry, Mulder monkey-branched from the wall to the doorknob, bracing himself for the incoming change in temperature. His cough predictably hacked in rebellion-- not as violently as it had for reveille, but enough to halt his forward progress in fits and stops.
He refused to go back to the swamp bed, shivering towards the closet for something quick to throw on. Clutching the hangers feebly for balance, Mulder darted from shirt to shirt, wondering if he'd rather freeze than attempt to stretch one over his head.
Hello. That was new.
There was a giant men's coat tucked away in the far-left corner where he knew that Scully knew he knew coats no longer belonged. He scowled-- shivering, sweating, trembling body forgotten-- and made a grab for it, twisting the cuffs around to look for a stitched identification or insignia. There were none.
On closer inspection, it wasn't a giant men's coat, after all: it was a giant, fluffy men's robe.
Hungrily pulling it off the rack, Mulder wrapped himself up in a slice of heaven and resumed his shuffle to the couch. It defied all known laws of nature, leeching the sickness from his body, the aches from his muscles, the pounding from his head. He decided not to question it.
Mulder propped up against his favored arm rest, wiggling his toes until sleep began to fuzzily descend. Before the tide pulled him completely away, Scully's key clicked and turned the lock. Earlier than her usual lunch hour.
"Mulder...?" floated softly into the room; and, at peace, he dreamed.
*****
Thanks for reading~
Enjoy!
Tagging @today-in-fic
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It's been six months since my top surgery!
The recovery process has definitely been easier than I thought, I'm so happy for doing this, for being able to have surgery in my hometown and for how I'm looking today.
Thanks to everyone who donated and/or shared my top surgery campaign, it was truly so helpful and I just couldn't have done it without your help.
And thanks to all the people out there trying to create a more inclusive and accesible world.
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back to thinking about that worst timeline princess AU concept where luz and hunter end up with camila in the human realm when camila hasn't met vee and doesn't know about the isles. & so camila thinks that the two of them have just been held captive together for years.
i'm mainly thinking about my 100% certainty that luz would develop a Crippling case of agoraphobia for..... very obvious reasons. double-checked the definition just now because i was like "i'm pretty sure it's no longer referred to as a fear of being outside??" and yeah -- it's a fear of being in environments where you'll be helpless or unable to escape if something goes wrong. which. well. you guys know what she's gone thru.
that combined with the general confusion and sensory overload of the human world.... i think luz would get Very Very Very Upset if she was forced to leave the house. and going anywhere without hunter especially is a non-starter. like one of u guys said a few days ago, the sheer LEVELS that her separation anxiety would ratchet up to.... she's basically following him to the bathroom whenever he gets up and sitting outside the door like a lonely cat. i don't even want to CONSIDER the kind of breakdown she'd have if she was made to go out with camila to, like, a completely normal therapy appointment.
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Yay today is 4 years post top surgery! 🎉🏳️⚧️🌈
Note: I am genderqueer I use they/them pronouns and prefer neutral language
After waking up
6 days
1 month
A little over 2 months
6 months
A little over 8 months
All the steps having to do with my dog ear revisions
1 year
A little over 2 years & 2 months
4 years 🎉🏳️⚧️
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Poison
Adaine, master swordsman and strong as hell, has to relearn how to walk. Gorgug gives her piggyback rides when she gets tired and has to really pay attention to make sure she's still on his back, because her grip is so loose and her weight is so sleight he's not sure he would notice immediately if she fell off. He swears she weighs less than Riz these days, even though that's ridiculous.
Adaine sighs in his ear as they stroll through the Gold Gardens on their way to get breakfast. She's got her arms draped loosely over his shoulders, but she's not doing much to keep herself in place. Gorgug doesn't mind holding onto her, is careful to keep his hands gentle and solid on the undersides of her thighs where he's supporting her wisp weight.
“The forest is endless and the night dark,” she says morosely. “Always walking alone, only to be reunited when they accept all is lost and breathe life into their fears.”
“Hey, that's not a prophecy,” Gorgug says, hefting her a little higher on his back. “That was spring break.”
Adaine squeezes her arms around his shoulders in a clumsy attempt at a hug. “It's Gorgug,” she whispers in his ear. “Keep going.”
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