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anders-hawke · 3 years

Note

omgggg i just got a fic idea you may like. what about chinga au where emily is alive but scully still decides to go on vacation alone because she needs alone time. so mulder takes care of emily on the weekend and scully has now not one but two clingy babies calling her everytime an hour passes 🥺. sending it to you bc you rock doing emily fics, you can do it or not, do whatever you want <3.

omg that’s so cute!!!!! Scully being all like -_- because Emily’s constantly wanting to play while her mom’s trying to take a bath, and Mulder keeps calling right when she’s trying to sleep and she’s like you two can do that to each other now, mom needs a vacation. anyways, on a more serious note, i didn’t actually keep the plot of chinga in the fic because i didn’t want to get off track with blending the au with the episode lol. but they’re very clingy. and there’s msr. <3

Vacation

The first time she gets a call is when she’s at the airport. “Mulder, what is it?”

“I can’t find the Goldfish. Scully, where the hell are the Goldfish?”

She sighs heavily. “They should be in the pantry. Check behind the cereals.”

“Ah! Found it! Thanks.”

“Mhm. Bye, Mulder. I’m on vacation. Don’t spoil Em too much while I’m gone.”

He laughs and it makes her heart flutter. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

—

The second time is when Scully’s refuelling the convertible she rented. “Mulder...?” she asks, her voice smoothly climbing higher as she says her partner’s name.

“Hi, Scully.”

“What’s happened this time?”

Mulder clears his throat. “A certain pumpkin is throwing a fit because I don’t know how to do a French braid.”

“Just braid her hair and tell her it’s French. She won’t know the difference.”

He fake gasps. “Dana Katherine! Are you suggesting that I lie?”

“Hey, I’m on vacation. I’m no one’s mom. FBI partner? No siree.”

“Duly noted.”

“I’m turning off my phone, Mulder. You’ll be fine. Just improvise. I trust you.”

“The Mulder family may have genetic muster but we sorely lack in the fatherhood department.”

“Oh, that’s not true. You’re great with kids. Need I remind you that Emily absolutely idolizes you?”

“That’s because she sees how you gaze at me, Scully.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, a blush taking up residence on her cheeks. “I do not.”

“Mhm. Believe whatever you want. The kid doesn’t lie.”

Scully laughs at that and wrenches the pump out of the car. “You must not know my daughter, then. I’ve caught her lying about you coming over in the middle of the night and putting her back to sleep.” Mulder just hums at that. “I’m hanging up now. For real. I don’t want to miss my reservation.”

“Alright. But the pumpkin wants to say hello.”

“Hand it over, then.”

After a second: “HI, MOMMY!”

“Settle down there, Em. Inside voice, remember?”

“Sowwy. I’m excited because Mul’er’s giving me a F’ench bwaid!”

“Wow! Look, pumpkin, I have to go. I’ll call you later to say goodnight, okay?”

“Okay!”

—

As promised, Scully calls home around Emily’s bedtime. It goes smoothly until it’s just her and Mulder. She’s soaking in a bubble bath, classical music drifting in from the speaker in the main room. “How’s your vacation so far, Scully?”

She snorts and sips her wine. “Pretty well. My bed has a high thread count, the bathroom’s stocked with bubble bath, and there’s no one begging me to watch Barbie movies with her or chase cryptids with him. Although, I do admit that those activities can be fun when relatively infrequent.”

Mulder hums in response. “So, what are you doing right now? Reading a book in those silk pajamas you never bring into the field?”

Scully laughs and takes a gulp of her wine. “I’m taking a bath. It has jets, Mulder. Jets. I splurged.”

“Good for you.” It’s hard to tell through the phone, but it sounds like his voice changed slightly.

She shakes her head and tells herself she’s just hearing things. “Well, goodnight, Mulder.”

After a pregnant moment, sounding a bit dejected: “Night, Scully.”

She bites her lip. “I’ll be back soon. It’s just the weekend.”

“I know,” he says, letting out a depressed laugh. “It’s like you’re a phantom limb, though.”

“It’s been twelve hours,” Scully whispers.

“Feels like years.” She debates admitting something she’s kept close to her chest but his pre-words intake of breath stops her. “I’ll let you go now.”

“Okay. See you soon, Mulder.”

“Yeah.”

—

The third call happens early on Sunday morning: Scully’s woken up at eight o’clock by her phone ringing, and she fumbles across the large bed to the table beside it, flipping open her phone with a terse, “Hello?”

“Hi, Mommy!”

“Emily?”

“I took Mul’er’s phone ‘cause I miss you. It had your work name on it so I clicked it and I called you!”

Scully pushes herself up to a sitting position, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Where’s Mulder, sweetie.”

“He’s sleeping on the couch. He left the TV on, Mommy. I thought you said no TV before bed?”

“Mulder’s a big boy, baby. He can watch TV before bed if he wants.”

“I thought you said I’m a big girl?”

“Well, honey, Mulder’s a lot bigger than you, right? He’s a very big boy. He drives a car and has a job.”

“When can I drive a car?”

“When you’re seventeen.”

“But that’s so far away, Mommy!” she whines.

“I know. Pumpkin, I need you to give Mulder back his phone and wait for him to get up, okay?” Silence. “Emily?”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, she took my phone while I was sleeping, I—”

“Mulder! God, no, it’s fine! Did she give it back to you?”

“Yeah, yeah, she did. I saw her with my phone when I woke up just now.” Mulder lets out a laugh. “She said I shouldn’t watch TV before bed.”

Scully hums. “Well, she’s not wrong...”

“She’s sure as hell your daughter through and through, Scully.”

She grins and tries to tamp down on the fluttering of her heart. “I’ll let you go, then. I’m sure Emily is none too happy that she didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“Should I let her?”

Scully pauses for a moment. “No, I think that would be sufficient punishment for using your phone without permission.”

“Sounds good. Love you.” Immediately after the words exit his mouth, Mulder inhales sharply. “I mean—”

“No, it’s fine—” she attempts, nervously tucking her hair behind her ear.

“I’ll just hang up—”

“Yeah. Love you, too.” And then the call is ended, and Scully is blushing profusely.

—

She spends the morning around town and even makes it down to the beach, but her mind isn’t on her surroundings. Scully can’t stop thinking about her and Mulder’s accidental confessions over the phone and has to stop herself from calling. She’ll be home around six. It’ll do them both a world of good to sit with it and think.

By the time she arrives back at her apartment, she’s resolved to sweep the matter under the rug as long as Mulder doesn’t make any moves. As a result, Scully’s wholly unprepared for the sweeping kiss he gives her after striding over to her.

Emily giggles and says, “Ew!” making both the adults break into laughter.

“I do love you, you know,” Mulder says.

Scully grins and cups his cheeks. “And I love you, too.”

#txf #fanfiction #i'm incapable of ending fics without and ''i love you'' confession 90% of the time #mine #emily sim #dana scully #msr #fox mulder #i hope you like this!#emily fic

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dreamingofscully · 4 years

Text

Gold and Silver

Rating: PG/Teen and up Words: 1355 Summary: Scully does something spontaneous to honor her sister’s memory. (Timing-wise, this is set post-D.P.O. but the episode is not referenced.)

@xfilesfanficexchange Dialogue Exchange 2021 for @baronessblixen 💞

Thank you to @ceruleanmilieu for the beta!!

Reposting this on tumblr for those that missed the exchange/ao3 post and to have it on my blog. Read on ao3!

***

A few years ago, what seemed a lifetime now, Missy dragged her to a piercing shop. To commemorate the start of a new journey. New people to meet, old ones to leave in the past. Her sister went first, laying on the table with her loose button-up held beneath her breasts. Wide smile. Long wavy hair splayed out in a coppery halo, tinged even brighter from the shop’s red neon lights. Serenity in her eyes while the tattooed shaggy-haired owner leaned over her with the clamp and needle. Springing off to admire herself in the mirror when it was done.

“Your turn,” Missy said. Daring her but not pushing.

But, it had been one rebellion too many for Dana. After all, she hadn’t agreed, only said she would think about it. She backed out. Turned away from the look of resignation in her sister’s eyes. She wasn’t sure what was worse: letting Missy down or knowing she was so predictable. Placing the silver ring back on the shelf, she eyed the gold one that sparkled at her sister’s midsection. Missy’s disappointment was short-lived, smiling brightly and laughing as she linked her arm with Dana’s when they left the shop.

At the recollection, she was thrust back further, a memory within a memory. Back to middle school when she worshiped her sister in the haze of early adolescence. When she wanted nothing more than to be her, to escape her constant prison of worry and expectation. To be more than the ‘stick-in-the-mud’ that frowned when others broke the rules. When, despite their differences, they were a united front. Sharers and keepers of each other’s secrets.

It was a rare mistake, something that never happened when Ahab was home. Bedsheets folded imperfectly, mattress lifted. The cigarettes were discovered there. Dana’s bed, but surely they did not belong to her. Missy winked and held her finger to her mouth. She’d take the blame, let her parents believe Dana was still the perfect daughter while Missy grew freer and wilder with each punishment.

Once Dana reached college, she succumbed to her parents’ and her own expectations. She saw her sister in a new light. Reckless. No focus. Underachiever. Missy could have whatever she wanted, being equally smart and much wiser, if only she started following the rules. They drifted apart. Study and medicine and eventually, the X-Files and Mulder, consumed her life. Thoughts of her past, time with her family, reserved only for memories and holidays.

“And this is what you want?”

The bored shopkeeper’s voice pulled her out of her reverie. She was almost surprised to see the woman with short-cropped hair and long bubble-gum pink acrylic nails instead of the tattooed, shaggy-haired man who pierced Missy. The urge to find another place came and went. She knew if she didn’t take this moment and run with it, she would talk herself out of it. Practical Dana would take over, and right now she wanted to be as far away from that person as she could.

Dana handed the woman the gold ring she held before she could change her mind.

The shopkeeper nodded and gestured to a curtained area at the back of the shop. While she gathered her tools, Dana pulled back the curtain and untucked her blouse.

She stared in the mirror, framed with white instead of red. It felt like remembering a different person: the girl who shared a closeness with her sister she would never get back. Now, a woman with pale and powdered skin, instead of a scattering of endless freckles. Slender with fuller breasts. A sleek bob instead of wild curls. Not much taller though. The girl she was and woman she strived to be versus the woman she became. Miles apart.

The curtain rattled as it closed around her. Dana laid on the cot and lifted her shirt. The cool wipe of an alcohol pad. The clamp on her skin. The anticipation of sharp pain, a shared experience. Another shared secret.

The chime of the door to the studio and a familiar voice. “Scully?”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

Shuffling, something crashing to the floor, a muffled curse. The shopkeep tensed her shoulders and let out an aggravated sigh, then leaned forward. Dana held in her breath and let it out slowly.

Too quick, it was done. Not nearly painful enough, not to drown out her thoughts. Blood-covered floor. Her sister’s head wrapped like a mummy, still and quiet. Antiseptic instead of patchouli. The dread and hopelessness of never being able to take back a terrible decision.

Mulder was busy stacking boxes back on a shelf when she emerged from the alcove behind the curtain. He regarded her curiously, but she ignored him. She paid in cash, a large denomination and generous tip, fingering the few coins she held in her wallet as she placed it back in her purse. Brushed past Mulder without a word, into the noise and bustle of the mall.

“So…”

She turned towards him, raising her eyebrow. Checked her watch; too much time left. They walked towards the exit anyway, back to the airport and back to her life. He was quiet, had been like this ever since Missy passed. Shrunken down, like he wanted to disappear, despite his gangly legs and tall frame overwhelming her view whenever she looked outwards. He waited and watched.

It had been her suggestion of an outing. Prompted by restlessness and a three-hour layover in Atlanta, she caught the sign advertising a nearby mall. He raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but she spun around and headed for the exit before he could respond, her heels clicking on the concourse tile. He hounded behind her, too far away to rest his hand on her back.

They caught a cab, ate greasy Chinese in the food court. She wandered away while he was in a joke shop, chucking to himself at funny t-shirts and keyrings. Found herself at ‘Misty’s Piercings’. A sign? Maybe. She snatched at the thought, held it close, hoping that somewhere her sister was looking down on her. That it was Missy making the decisions, instead of herself.

Well, it was done. Whether it had been her or Missy who’d guided her path today.

The stifling humidity of an Atlantan summer tore the breath from her lungs as they stepped out of the air conditioning of the mall.

“What’d you get done?” Mulder bounced on his feet, his eyebrows raised to his hairline.

“Navel piercing.”

His eyes widened and he smiled broadly at her. “Can I see?”

“Later.”

He waggled his eyebrows and she dipped her head, feeling warmth rise from her chest to color her cheeks. The butterflies she felt when he looked at her like that were short-lived nowadays. Darkness squeezed at her heart, every second thought of her sister. She remembered the last time she’d talked to her about Mulder.

‘Just do something, Danes, he’s crazy about you,’ she’d said. Dana doubted it then, doubted it now. But the way he looked at her sometimes, especially now. The warmth of his body next to hers, just a bit too close to be professional.

She slid into the seat of the cab they hailed and squeezed as far to her side as she could. Mulder crawled in next to her, knees practically pressed to his chest. Her fingers itched to reach out and swipe the stray lock of hair that covered his forehead. To lean her head against his arm, solid and real. It would be so easy.

She shook her head, gazing out the window as they drove past yet another strange cityscape.

It didn’t matter. She had a duty, even stronger now. She needed answers, her mother needed answers. Missy deserved them. She needed Mulder focused on this quest instead of herself. If it was even possible that he’d notice her in that way.

Her hand drifted to her stomach, imagining she could link her arms with her sister again. Keep their connection alive. Live two lives, for the one that was lost.

One life, one chance. She would not waste it.

#my fic #xf fanfic #msr #mulder and scully #ust #melissa scully #season 3

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coochiequeens · 3 years

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Fucking perv

As testimony in R. Kelly’s Brooklyn federal court sex-crimes trial came to an end for the week on Friday afternoon, more details emerged about how Kelly allegedly controlled his inner circle using their devotion, with the purported aim of preying on girls and women. Testimony from Kelly’s former road manager, Demetrius Smith, reflected an obligation to Kelly despite his deep reservations over the R&B star’s alleged sexual relationship with Aaliyah when she was in her early teens and he was in his mid-to-late 20s.

Indeed, Smith’s description of his involvement with Kelly’s alleged plan to wed Aaliyah when she was 15 — because of a pregnancy scare — apparently boiled down to simple, serviceable loyalty. Kelly asked Smith “which side” he was on, Smith recalled; he chose Kelly’s side, whatever concerns he had subsumed by this notion of siding. And Smith didn’t just go along with it — he was an active participant.

Smith’s continued commitment to Kelly was apparent in court.

“I don’t want to be here, period,” Smith said when it was time for him to take the witness stand. (Smith was subpoenaed to testify; because he said he would take the fifth, over concerns of self-incrimination, Smith was granted immunity from prosecution — except for crimes such as obstruction of justice, witness intimidation, and perjury. He previously spoke in the Lifetime docuseries Surviving R. Kelly.)

“You’re in good company, a lot of people don’t,” Judge Ann Donnelly said. “The bottom line is you have to testify.”

“I didn’t [do anything] to be prosecuted for, so why would I testify? Period,” said Smith, whose behavior ranged from combative to somewhat taunting during his time in court.

Smith, who worked for Kelly from 1984 and 1996, said he was blown away by Kelly’s perfect work when they met. At the beginning, Smith said, “I just wanted to be someone he could look up to.” As Kelly’s career picked up, Smith said, “I just wanted him to be comfortable.”

In 1992, after Kelly’s career had taken off, the singer’s then-manager, Barry Hankerson, told him and Smith about his niece in Detroit, Aaliyah Dana Haughton. Hankerson wanted them to hear her sing, so they traveled to Michigan and went to the Haughton’s house.

“She was very shy,” Smith said of Aaliyah. Kelly went to the piano and brought “angelic stuff out of her.”

“Don’t she have something special?” they both thought. Aaliyah and her parents wound up traveling to Chicago, so she and Kelly could work together. She had just turned 13.

Prosecutors asked: Did they socialize outside the studio? Were they ever alone together?

“Yes, we all socialized,” Smith said. “If Robert wanted to be alone with Aaliyah, it was all about the music.”

What did Kelly say about needing to be alone with Aaliyah?

“To work on her vocals. He would say he needs to spend time with her,” Smith said.

Smith was then asked whether he ever had a conversation with Kelly about his relationship with Aaliyah. There was a long pause.

“I thought that they were playful and at times. I was concerned,” he said, remembering that he’d asked: “Robert, everything cool with you and Aaliyah?”

“I just thought they were over-playful,” he continued, also recalling that he had asked: “Robert, are you messing with Aaliyah or anything? He’d say ‘no.’”

“I didn’t want people to have the wrong vision of things,” Smith said of his inquiries.

Smith said he didn’t assume anything was up, but then conceded: “They were more than friends from the very beginning.”

Kelly’s involvement with Aaliyah took an even more disturbing tour when he was on tour in 1994. Shortly before Kelly was to perform one night, he remarked that “Aaliyah was in trouble.”

After the show, they headed to the airport and boarded a plane back to Chicago. Smith described Kelly’s demeanor as “quiet.”

“She thinks she’s pregnant,” Smith recalls Kelly saying.

Kelly said that one of his confidants was “making arrangements for him to marry Aaliyah … to protect himself [and] to protect Aaliyah.” The idea behind this was that if Aaliyah were married to Kelly, she couldn’t testify against him.

Smith told Kelly that just bcecause Aaliyah said she was pregnant “doesn’t mean she’s pregnant.”

“He was crying a lot. He was crying,” Smith said. “I told him that he couldn’t marry Aaliyah, that she was too young.”

“He was confused. He said, ‘which side was I on?’”

Smith wound up playing an integral role in the illicit nuptials. Shortly after arriving in Chicago, they went to a hotel where Aaliyah was in a room. He didn’t like what was going on, but felt like he would be pushed out of Kelly’s circle.

“I wanted to stay in the loop.”

Smith said he would get Aaliyah a fake ID, because she couldn’t marry at her age. Smith figured someone in a welfare office would give an ID card in exchange for some cash, using a “hey, wanna make some money” approach. He drove to the welfare office, with Kelly and Aaliyah in a car behind him.

They found an obliging clerk. “I made her an offer, she took the money; I gave her 500 bucks,” he said. Eventually, they made their way to a city clerk’s office, where Kelly and Aaliyah got a marriage license. He was 27 and she 15.

“I’m uncomfortable talking constantly about Aaliyah,” Smith snapped shortly after describing the marriage plot. “Her parents aren’t here, and I don’t want to understand why I gotta do that.”

Smith’s most fervent expression of remorse seemed to come Monday morning, when the trial resumed.

“That shouldn’t have happened. That was wrong. I shouldn’t be talking about [Aaliyah], she’s not here,” he said.

#Demetrius Smith knew it was wrong but sided with a gross ass man instead of protecting a child

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mrsdobrik · 4 years

Text

Not Clickbait - Chapter 27

You only need to read chapter 1 to be able to follow this chapter.💖💖

Y/n had left to go visit her family a week before and it was finally time for her to get back to L.A. David was waiting anxiously at the gate to see her, being apart for a week had been hard, it had made him realize just how much he cared for her, how used to her smile in the mornings he had gotten, how boring life would be without her. And it seemed as though Y/n had reached the same conclusion because as soon as she saw David waiting for her she ran into his arms and gave him a deep kiss.

“I missed you so much!!” She said kissing him again and again.

“I missed you too baby! I am so glad you are home!” He whispered holding her tight in his arms.

The ride to her apartment was filled with laughter as Y/n told David about her trip and her family and gave him a bunch of presents she had gotten him. Once they got there Jaz, Y/n’s roommate, was sitting on the couch watching TV.

“Hey famous roommate! Welcome back!! I missed your ass!” She said getting up to hug her friend.

“Hey Jaz! I missed you too!!” Y/n exclaimed still not letting go of her friend.

“So, how is fame treating you?” She nudged Y/n.

“What do you mean?” Y/n looked at her with furrowed brows, puzzled.

“I mean, how does it feel, being famous?” Jaz saw their perplexed expressions and went on “You two, at the airport, it’s all over Instagram. Hollywood Fix just reported on it.”

Y/n and David both reached for their phones. Jaz was right, every single picture on both of their timelines was a picture of them at the airport kissing and hugging and holding hands. You couldn’t really see Y/n’s face too much because the picture was taken from far away but you could definitely tell that was David.

FUCK

“Babe, it’s okay. We knew it was going to happen sooner or later. Especially since I talked about it on the podcast.”

“I… I just didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

“Thankfully they don’t know your name yet, you should probably turn your accounts to private right now and delete anything you don’t want them to know.” Jaz comforted her as Y/n’s eyes started to water.

“Fuck… I’m sorry… I’m being such a pussy right now… I don’t know what is wrong with me.” she spoke trying to choke back the tears.

“Babe, it’s going to be okay, don’t worry about it. We still have a little time to do this on our terms.” David muttered walking up to her and rubbing her back.

“Okay… I’m fine… It’s fine. Jaz is right, I should probably set everything to private and delete some old pictures.” Y/n sighed and went into her room followed by David.

“Babe, are you okay? Talk to me, why are you so upset?”

“It’s just… the moment they find out my name everything is going to change. No more anonymity, no more it just being you and I. The moment they find out there is going to be datalies and dizas and darlys and danas coming at me, if we break up it’s extremely public. I don’t know, I knew what was coming but, I just wish we had more time, it’s only been like 4 months since we first started dating, 2 being official. There is still so much we haven’t done together, I’m just worried bringing 20 million other people into our relationship might ruin things for us.”

“We’ll figure it out together, I promise. And we still have a little time… I was going to wait till Tuesday to give you this but…” he said as he looked for something on his phone and passed it over for her to see. Two plane tickets and hotel reservations for Key West two weeks later. Y/n started crying even more and wrapped her arms around David. “We still have a little time, let’s make the most of it. We’ll go relax and have fun and when we come back we’ll film a video together and tell the world, is that okay?”

“It’s perfect!” she said standing on her tippy toes to kiss him. “But first there is someone else we should tell…”

…

An hour later David’s Tesla was parked outside the Antonyan’s house.

“Are you ready?” He asked. He was kind of nervous too.

“Yeah but I mean… you have to go in first right?” Y/n said smiling at the boy.

“Yeah, right…”

David got out of the car, camera in hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to post it or fans would find out where Y/n worked but he still wanted to record Vardan’s reaction.

“David!!” Vardan cheered excitedly as the vlogger crossed the door and ran over to give him a hug.

“Hey Vardan! How are you? So, I am here because there is someone I think you should meet…”

“Is it your girlfriend?” Vardan asked, he had been dying to know and couldn’t understand why everyone else could meet her and he couldn’t.

“Yes, so… I want you to sit down on the couch and get blindfolded.” David said with a devilish grin.

Once the boy had done as instructed David motioned for Y/n to come in and sit next to him.

“Okay. So, now you can take off your blindfold.”

“Hey Vardan!” Y/n sat smiling next to him.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD!! OH MY GOD!! NO WAY!!” He yelled, eyes wide open, as he gave her a hug.

“I wanted to come and say thank you for falling on your face that day, it really worked out for me.”

#david dobrik #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik imagine

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jordanianroyals · 4 years

Photo

Queen Noor Interview with Prestige issue 34, March 1996

Interviewed in Amman by CHRISTIANE Obeid | © Prestige / Bassam Lahoud

She captivates you with the strength of her charisma. Fascinates you by the scale of her projects. Meeting with Her Majesty in Jerash.

Amman Airport. Literally a welcoming committee, two people waiting, sent by the Royal Palace of Ma’wa, a third one by the Lebanese Embassy in Jordan. A first impression of Jordan: courtesy, discretion. Outside, the lights of a city that does not sleep. Alive. With white stone houses, architectural treasures. No skyscrapers but a latent desire for immensity. The next day, the same person, taciturn and kind, leads us to our first stop: Iraq Al Amir. An archaeological reconstructed village, restored, half an hour from Amman but already deeply immersed in tradition.

We have not yet met the Queen, but her work is marked everywhere. (Source)

Inside each house, a beehive of activity and a delicious freshness. Our mentor: Awni Quandour graduate of States and director of the center. Here, we weave with happiness, the millenary production of parchment paper is recovered…

Ramadan does not slow the activity of nawls under the impetus of the gay village girls. The presence of computers seems incongruous at first, but the tradition and modernity go together well. Our meeting with Jordan’s heritage extends to Jordan Design and Trade Center (JDTC). «Our goal is to continue to create, create every day, something different.» Statement of the director Claude Zumot, also a graduate in management from the States. And the designers of the Centre do not lack ideas. Originality of modern notes intended to complement the heritage of ancestors. Mosaic patterns on multiple works, delicately aesthetic convolutions of a glass, traced vows on Salsal ceramics. We learn, with difficulty, to recognize the different bsat and call them by name because they have a name like any piece of art. From the peasants of Iraq Al Amir to Husseiniyé Bedouins, Jordan awakes to crafts, culture. Who gave the impetus? A queen so dedicated to her work that she offered us, instead of a traditional interview, to accompany her to Jerash. Historic city that has a large craft center. Departure from the Royal Palace of Ma ‘awa, on the hill of Nuzha.

At Jerash, in groups in front and inside of the Town Hall, the crowd waiting for their queen, their benefactress. It is there, fascinated, that we understand the scale of the project, the strength of her charisma, the extent of her love for Jordan, her commitment to the people that came to pay tribute to her.

Majesty, you are an architect; what is the contribution of your major in the successful implementation of your projects? I chose a major in Architecture and Urban Planning at the University of Princeton because it included several disciplines that were later a great asset to my work in Jordan. I discovered that in order to build for an individual or a community, we should understand their physical, social and spiritual needs and try to find solutions to those needs. In a sense, you can say that my major at the university helped me to become a «social architect».

«The woman can become a real economical force in her own community».

What distinguishes the Jordanian crafts from other countries? Jordanian designs reflect the richness of our history and are inspired by many ancient and contemporary cultures that flourished in Jordan. For example, the Nabataeans were famous for their fine ceramics they exported across the East. We produce Nabataean pottery style craft at the center of Salt that can be sold to tourists today.

On the other hand, the Bedouin style is very special because it produces «smooth-faced» because dense carpet; their texture is different from other styles. Our designers have also introduced for carpets and ceramic patterns inspired from mosaics. Embroidery items are typically Jordanian, eg Ma’ani point that had almost disappeared until the day the JDTC incorporated it again in its products. Another practice been forgotten and that we have revived the wheat wicker baskets woven by hand. Better, we established at Mukhaibeh a profitable project for the work of wicker wheat, palm leaves and banana …. On the other hand, the foundation provided women with new looms and spinning wheels to increase productivity. We have imposed a strict quality control from raw material to final product.

What are the main lines of craft projects? I would mainly say weaving and embroidery and ceramics, gems and paper.

Is there a contribution of the younger generation of the royal family to the revival of heritage? Several young members of the family support national programs for the preservation and promotion of the Jordanian heritage especially in the Jerash festival for art and culture and the National Music conservatory and projects for the Environment.

Majesty, what is the contribution of craft centers for the protection of historical monuments? Over the past decade, I have encouraged the development of these highly skilled centers in Jordan historic towns of archaeological sites to promote handicrafts and integrate the socio-economic development to tourism. In Iraq Al Amir you visited yesterday, a site dating from BC 2nd century, the Noor Al Hussein Foundation has renovated two farms and began the restoration of ten others. She plans to turn these farms in a craft village that preserve the cultural heritage of the region and would be linked to Hellenistic palace, which will encourage tourism and increase the economic benefit of the community. The foundation aims primarily to improve the quality of life of rural and urban poor communities through Jordan establishing intensive programs in the context of health, education, heritage, environment, volunteering and community involvement. I also encouraged the restoration of historic villages nearby archaeological sites such as Taybat Zaman, ten minutes from Petra. The Foundation and the Ministry of Tourism are working together for the upgrading of craft shops and tourist information centers.

As part of the craft revival, how do you assess environmental issues and what are your achievements in this area? I already mentioned the Mukhaibeh braiding project that symbolizes the effort deployed by the Foundation for integrating environmental issues into development projects. Before the Foundation initiated the project, the farmers there cut down and uprooted their palms, exploring other cultures. We have created a demand and as a result, farmers planted more palm trees! On the other hand, the JDTC working on water recycling project to reuse the water in the wool processing centers and dyeing south of Jordan. The JDTC also initiated profitable projects to the Dana Nature Reserve, in an abandoned village in the south. The historic stone houses have been restored and activities implemented. Currently the JDTC sells jewelry made in Dana, from semi-precious stones in the region.

Have most of the artistic and cultural projects been realized? Has the Foundation Noor AL Hussein realized its initial aspirations? Yes, the cultural activity of the Foundation is in full swing. Just after my marriage, I started with the invaluable help of Jordanian volunteers, the first Jerash Festival, today internationally recognized as a crossroads exchanges which contributed to the rebirth and revitalization of the cultural and artistic heritage. I also began during the early years of my marriage the Arab Children’s Congress, which brings together children from all parts of the Arab world in a climate of understanding, tolerance and solidarity. The National Conservatory of Music “founded in 1986, is the only one to have a children orchestra. Its annual program includes concerts, workshops and conferences as well as recitals that feature local and international musicians. Development project of the National Handicrafts, the JDTC and training center in Salt are three programs of the Noor Al Hussein Foundation. They were able to stimulate the revival of the craft heritage. Another project affiliated with the Foundation: the first Museum of Science for children, which helps them understand the ecological and scientific cycles of life. Children can touch and handle the exhibits to learn more on the development of Man through the ages, the natural history, geography, science, the environment, space and cultures in the world. We have also set up a museum of science, mobile, for children in rural areas. It focuses on health and hygiene, Science and Environmental Protection and the History of Jordan.

Your Majesty was there a few months ago at an international conference in Paris. How does the Foundation works as an intermediary between international and Jordanian institutions? We are associated with many UN and other organizations in the fields of education, the development of women and the community, the health, well-being of children, culture and heritage. The Foundation works with 30 different national and international non-governmental organizations to help them develop their plans, assist in attracting international funds and put their products on the market, especially abroad. Any foreign funding received by the Foundation is paid to the organization to which this fund is for.

At international carpet competition, a Jordanian rug Hweitat won first prize

Does the JDTC take part in major international exhibitions? Yes, the JDTC has exhibited its products in Europe, Paris and Frankfurt, and exposes once a year in Atlanta where one Hweitat rug has won the first prize at the International rug Competition. And twice a year in High Point, North Carolina, the largest furniture and decoration market of the United States.

Will handicraft be able one day to become a self-sufficient industry that will promote Jordanian art in the world? Craft centers are already self-sufficient. In addition, through its international exhibitions and marketing, JDTC has already introduced the Jordanian crafts in the world. The JDTC is primarily a national design and trade center that is not charged solely to promote the foundation products but also the works of various craft projects throughout the country.

Who oversees these centers? What is the common denominator? Is there not a danger of competition between different centers? Jordan is fortunate to have a wide variety of public and private craft centers with which JDTC works closely, either from a training perspective and product development or local or international marketing. The JDTC deploys every effort to reserve the rights to create products and designs to protect artisans. As for the craft centers of the Foundation, all of their directors are men or women from the same region, that the JDTC has recruited and trained to manage these centers. Those tend to specialize in different product lines at a time when the JDTC is creating «model centers».

To be engaged, should women initially have some skill? How the proposed development of the woman makes her a decision-maker? If a woman already has skills, it is more an asset but it is not a prerequisite for recruitment. The most important quality is the commitment, motivation. In addition, JDTC provides the necessary training, technical or managerial, and in that sense, the approach of the Foundation differs from the traditional and often ineffective approach, which merely provides material assistance to women.

The introduction of cost-effective programs, geared toward local and international markets, allows women to become a real economic force in the community. Her status and influence increase as well as the overall quality of life of the community, because a woman will often communicate her knowledge to her family. The training of women is therefore the fastest way to achieve positive change in development.

How are workers paid? Most artisans are paid according to the piece they realized, weavers are paid by meter and embroiderers per piece. As for center directors and some workers, they receive a monthly salary.

Which project of JDTC won the most of success? The projects of Nurha and Rimoun employing between 150 and 200 people are probably the most successful because both are completely independent. The JDTC initiated projects from scratch, providing all the training.

At present, the centers are self-managed and operated. Nurha, an embroidery center, has three other centers under its supervision. As the center of Rùnoun, it was established by the JDTC to help these women to acquire the skills and improve their standard of living while revitalizing the Jordanian crafts. The JDTC has also introduced an innovation: a 2 meters long loom which produces carpets covering a room previously almost non-existent in the Jordanian market.

How many people work at JDTC? Since its founding in 1990, 3,000 women and their families have benefited.

Do you have a special program for young people even not gifted in rural areas? Is university free of charge in Jordan? University is not free in Jordan, but the school is free up to college. The project that is particularly dear to me is the Jubilee School, high school for scholars from all parts of the country, particularly disadvantaged. It is dedicated to the development of intellectual potential of Jordanian students by providing a unique study method and curriculum based on their own needs, abilities and experiences. This school, in collaboration with private and public institutions, sponsors several courses and workshops for teachers and students throughout the country. Another project I have already mentioned is that of Salt which offers free training for three years in weaving, pottery and ceramics production, silk weaving, decoration and refresher courses for trainers. On the other hand, the SOS homes for boys and girls offer Vocation courses for children and, in collaboration with the SOS villages in Amman and Aqaba, creating a warm family atmosphere for orphans and abandoned children.

«My studies at Princeton University helped me to become a social architect»

Regarding the educational projects for children in rural areas, in addition to the mobile museum that I have already mentioned, the Foundation works closely in partnership with local authorities and private voluntary groups to establish clubs for children across Jordan. They meet the recreational, cultural, artistic needs of the younger. The Foundation also supports the creation of child care centers and nursery in the villages where these «quality of life» projects are implemented.

Majesty, your dream is the children’s hospital. What steps have been taken for its realization? The National Hospital for Children is a project that the people of Jordan have long dreamed of. Once completed, we hope that this hospital will be the first of the Kingdom to provide for tertiary medical care, secondary and some primary care for children aged 0 to 16 years. This establishment will be accessible to all economic classes of the population. The hospital will not only be a pediatric center but also an educational center for pediatric, surgical, dental hygiene and combined scientific disciplines. It will also include a center for the evaluation of child development and treatment of cerebral palsy and also present an extensive program guide for the family. The Institute for Health and Child Development is the first and only local specialized in assessing and monitoring the growth and development of the child. It will be affiliated with the hospital and serve the local community.

Majesty, you like to photograph. Have you organized an exhibition of your work? Unfortunately not, but this is a project that deserves reflection!

#Queen Noor #interview

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crescentmoon223 · 4 years

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Never Tear Us Apart Chapter 5

Stella x Scully | Rating: Explicit | Start here with Chapter 1

She saw his hair first, shining copper red beneath the harsh airport lighting. He seemed impossibly taller than he’d been at his high school graduation last month, lanky in the way of a teenager who hasn’t quite grown into his frame yet. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

Scully felt adrenaline flood her system, tingling through her veins. She’d seen Will maybe a dozen times since she’d given him up, usually at the Van De Kamps’ farm and always in Wyoming. To watch him walking toward her in Heathrow Airport was surreal, so much so that for several long seconds she just stared, rendered completely speechless.

Will looked up and spotted her, breaking into a smile as he lifted a hand to wave in her direction. She waved back, willing herself to stop shaking, to hold back the tears glazing her vision.

“Hi, Dana,” he said as he stopped in front of her, arms fidgeting at his sides as if he were unsure how to greet her.

She took care of that, pulling him in for a quick hug. Her face met the soft fabric of his T-shirt and yeah, he had definitely grown. “Hi,” she said, smiling as she pulled back. “It’s so good to see you. How was your flight?”

“Long,” he said with a laugh. “Hi, Stella.”

“Hi, Will.” She leaned in for a much more reserved hug. “You must be exhausted.”

“Yeah.” He tugged at the strap on his backpack, his gaze darting around the terminal, eyes bright with curiosity.

Read the rest on AO3.

#Never Tear Us Apart #Two Worlds Collide #fanfic #scully/stella #stella and scully #scullyxstella #Stella Gibson #Dana Scully #The Fall #The X Files

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mckinnonkate · 6 years

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all the love we had and lost

post s11, mulder and scully go on a babymoon! i tweeted about this once and had to get it out of my system so you get to deal with it

there’s probably plot if you squint but why would you do that

tagging @today-in-fic

He floats the idea to her during week fourteen.

They reserve Sundays for lounging around together at home. Though the sun creeping over the horizon might technically signify the start of the day, they often stay in bed together well into the morning, tangled up like the young lovers they used to be. Their lives have slowed from a frantic chase to an almost dreamlike crawl, but they have a new respect for the solace found in spending an entire day simply existing with the person you love – especially with the impending arrival of a new person looming in the not too distant future.

This Sunday, she’s sitting propped up by pillows with her eyes closed and her head tilted back against the headboard. He’s lying face down next to her, head perched on his arm flush against her hip, and his hand roaming across her bare stomach. It hasn’t quite popped – not yet – but almost overnight, her once taut and flat abdomen has developed the slightest curve, jutting out to let the world in on the miracle that grows inside. He can’t stop touching it; part of him continues to marvel at the incredible feat her body is accomplishing, a different part can’t quite believe this is happening and uses the touch of her skin as a litmus test for his lucidity, and another part entirely falls even more in love with her and their baby as they reach and surpass each milestone. Frankly, he couldn’t keep his hands off her even if he tried, but luckily for him, she doesn’t seem to mind.

“We should go somewhere,” he says, his voice slipping from his mouth like honey. She makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, he’s not sure, but either way, he knows she’s already against the idea.

“Don’t wanna move,” she mumbles through lips as soft as the sheets engulfing them. “Too comfy.”

He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his body like an earthquake in the stillness of their bedroom.

“Not right now,” he amends, “before the baby comes. Let’s go somewhere.” He lifts his eyes to her face and watches as hers slide open. She regards him with a furrowed brow, one of the expressions he knows means she’s curious and not angry or upset. He can work with that.

“I want to take you somewhere, anywhere, while it’s just us,” he tries again, stroking his thumb back and forth over their baby like a metronome. She huffs out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair.

“That’s very sweet, and I would love nothing more than to be whisked away by you, but you know how risky this is,” she reminds him, still softly petting him in the intoxicating way that makes him forget his train of thought. He suddenly wants nothing more than to just let the soothing feel of her nails against his scalp lull him back to sleep. If she whips this skill out on the kid, bedtime should be a breeze.

“I doubt my doctor would approve of travel, let alone allow it,” she continues, oblivious of the detour his brain just took.

“She said everything looks really good though,” he counters, “and that we got through the worst of it.”

Which is true, technically. Despite near hospitalization when a week or two of particularly bad morning sickness ripped through her, an appointment a few days prior had shown that things were progressing exactly as they should. An image of their perfectly healthy baby hangs on the fridge and a recording of its perfectly healthy heartbeat resides on both of their phones, yet she’s hesitant to throw herself into this when it could all come to a screeching halt at any moment. Going through that heartbreak once was bad enough – she’s not sure she’d survive it again.

“I know we’re not completely out of the woods,” he says, and now it’s his turn to pull her away from her own thoughts, “but you deserve it. We deserve it.” She sighs, thinking about sun on her skin and wind in her hair and life coursing through her veins.

“We’ll talk to Dr. Klein next time we’re in and in the meantime, I’ll think about it, okay?”

He grins, a tender smile with all of the boyish charm he had when she met him 25 years ago.

“Good,” he says, propping himself up on an elbow. “I just want you to relax as much as possible before we’re scavenging for sleep like a pair of starving raccoons.” He leans down, then, addressing her belly. “Not that you won’t be every bit worth it, little one, but we’re really old.”

She laughs halfheartedly in response, covering the hand on her stomach with her own.

On a Tuesday during week sixteen, their baby is still perfectly healthy with a perfectly healthy heartbeat. Her doctor runs through the exam according to procedure, asking questions and taking measurements, and Scully updates her on feelings and symptoms when she’s prompted, but her eyes remain glued to the image of the baby on the screen. The evidence is staring her in the face, evidence that she can breathe and let go of some of her worry, but she still holds her breath and expects something to go terribly wrong. She’s seen too much, been through too much, to take anything remotely good at face value, and it kills her.

She hopes the baby can’t feel that.

“More than anything, Dana,” she hears her doctor say and immediately shifts her attention. “I want you to relax as much as possible. You and baby are healthy, everything is on track, and I want to keep it that way. The less stress you’re under the better.”

“Speaking of relaxing,” Mulder interjects from his place next to her, “in your medical opinion, do you think we’d be able to go on a little vacation of sorts?”

She pauses for a moment, forming a response, and hands Scully a paper towel to wipe the gel from her abdomen.

“In other cases like yours, I would typically advise against it. However, and I don’t want to jinx anything here, this pregnancy is going remarkably well. I think I can sign off on a small trip barring any abnormalities on your next scan.”

Mulder reaches over and clasps her hand, shooting her one of the smiles that makes her heart melt. She tries to return it, but the word abnormalities echoes persistently in her head.

By the time they reach the Tuesday of week eighteen, in addition to seeing and hearing that her baby is healthy, she also has the tangible proof of little limbs pushing against the confines of her womb. Once again, they’re told that everything is fine and once again, she waits for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m very happy with what I’m seeing here. If you’re still thinking about planning a trip, I think you’re in a good position to do so. My only conditions,” she adds, as Mulder helps Scully off the exam table, “are that you avoid international travel and stay on the east coast.”

In case something goes wrong, Scully supplies in her head, wincing slightly at the baby’s sudden onslaught of frantic movement in her belly as soon as she thinks it. Still, she can’t help but yearn for a respite out of the city, regardless of how brief it might be, where it’s just her and Mulder in a different place being different people.

Hopefully she can leave the intrusive thoughts at baggage claim.

They walk out of the OB’s office hand in hand, his thumb sliding back and forth over hers. When they reach their car, he regards her with the tilt of his head and the quirk of an eyebrow, uttering one location.

And that’s how they decide to go to Florida.

He takes over the planning part of the whole endeavor, asking her to trust him, and she finds it hard to say no when she thinks about how deeply he knows her and how deeply exhausted she is.

Within a week, he books flights and a place on the beach, consulting her only to find out when she’d like to leave.

The night before their flight out, she’s asleep in bed while he finishes some last minute packing. Suddenly, she’s roused from slumber by the sound of someone mumbling, and she realizes she can feel his head down by her abdomen and his mouth against her stomach.

“We can’t wait to meet you baby girl,” he whispers in a way that lets her know she’s catching the end of whatever he was telling their child. “Your mom and I love you so much already.”

She decides to pretend to still be asleep, teetering on the edge of consciousness until he moves her shirt back down to cover her belly and drifts off himself.

They leave on a Wednesday morning during week twenty. The flight is a little under three hours, and she feels every second of it.

It’s not that she doesn’t enjoy traveling, but traveling with an added 12 pounds of baby weight isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world. Still, the salt in the air and the warmth in the breeze puts a smile on her face, and she’s content the entire trip from the airport to where they’ll be staying.

As soon as the car pulls up, she’s impressed.

A dozen or so cabanas are sprawled out in front of them, each one with a stone walkway to the front door that veers off from a main path down to the beach. The buildings are quaint – short and fortified with concrete, able to withstand rain and wind beating against the structures. They’re all painted a soft yellow, which, paired with the beige trim of the roofs, reminds her of the sand she walked on in Africa years ago. Outside of each cottage, two deck chairs sit next to each other on the unnaturally vibrant grass, completing the picturesque vacation spot. She can hear waves crashing and smell the foam from where they stand.

While Mulder checks them in, she walks slowly up and down a small stretch of the main path down to the shore, one hand on the small of her back and the other resting atop her bump. The baby had been still since they left that morning, but she could feel her now coming awake under her finger tips, a kick here, a kick there. She felt the urge to talk to the human in her womb, to talk nonsense or say anything at all like Mulder seemed to be able to, but words stuck in her throat like tar.

So she simply walks, waiting for Mulder to come find her, and thinks about the way the sand will feel under her feet and the way the ocean will feel against her skin and not about the way the baby might feel in her arms.

He finds her easily and guides her to one of the cottages toward the front of the pack, closer to the actual beach than the rest. He unlocks the door and ushers her inside first while he grabs their bags, and despite the overwhelming floral prints and pastel colors that scream tourist!, the first word that comes to mind is charming.

The space is essentially set up like a one bedroom apartment, with a kitchenette and living room taking up her field of view as soon as she walks in. As she ventures further inside, she takes stock of the white wicker furniture and the king-sized bed in the bedroom. Most importantly, she spots a claw foot bathtub in the bathroom. Not bad, Mulder, she thinks, lowering herself to the bed. Not bad at all.

The man in question enters not a minute later, looking expectantly at her.

“Good choice?” he asks, insecurity creeping into his voice. She beckons him to her and once he’s standing in front of her, she takes a handful of his shirt and pulls him down to her.

“Very good,” she tells him against his mouth before pulling it against her own. His hands move up to cup her face and his thumbs swipe her cheeks. They come apart, but he still holds her face in his hands.

“Do you need rest? Food? Anything you want, say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

She shakes her head, attempting to pull him closer. “I feel like I’ve been resting all day. I want to do something.” As she’s speaking, her stomach growls, loudly enough for him to notice and her to blush. “But food first would probably make me and your daughter very happy.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head before reaching out his hand to help her up.

“C’mon, I think there’s a place down the street.”

The irony of being on the coast but not being able to eat seafood is not lost on her, but she manages to have some of the most mouthwatering food she’s ever had anyway. They leave the local restaurant and notice that the sun should be setting soon, and Mulder decides it’s the perfect time to walk on the beach.

(In her case, it’s more like waddling, but he knows better than to joke about that.)

They walk hand in hand along the shore, letting the remnants of waves wash over their bare feet and the setting sun beat against their backs. After a few minutes of bumping shoulders while they walk she stops and turns to him, facing the sun. The golden hour light makes her hair seem like fire and her eyes like sapphire, and her beauty nearly knocks him off his feet.

“Here,” she says, pulling their joined hands to her belly. “I think she likes it out here.”

Only recently he’s really been able to feel their child moving, and it seems like he hit the jackpot tonight. He can feel the baby tumbling around under the skin of Scully’s abdomen, the soft rolling sensation of a hand or a foot against his hand. It reminds him of the ocean, the power it holds and the almost otherworldliness of its existence. As the sun slides beneath the horizon, they make their way back to the cabanas for the night.

“Headed to bed?” he asks as she makes a beeline for the bedroom as soon as they cross over the threshold of the cottage. She hums in affirmation as she reaches the door before throwing a look over her shoulder.

“But Mulder,” she says, eyes dark and voice deep. “I’m not tired.”

They spend Friday lounging on the beach – she soaks up sun, he swallows a ridiculous amount of seawater.

She sits cross-legged on a blanket under an umbrella, spending a few hours in the shade to cool her skin off from the rays she’s already gotten, and watches as he trudges back to her, shaking out his hair and body like a wet dog.

“Hi,” he offers, plopping down on the blanket next to her and leaning over to kiss her check with a wet smack. “Long time no see.”

“I know, I wondered if I’d ever be able to get you out of there. Thought for a second you found a nice, beautiful mermaid to settle down with,” she jokes, squirting out some sunscreen in her hands. He scoffs in mock offense as she lathers her arms.

“Scully, please, scientifically real mermaids are nothing like the fairy tale iterations we’re peddled as children. They’re gruesome sea monsters with nasty tempers and while I’d love to meet one, that’s just so not my type anymore.”

She laughs, moving from her arms to her stomach, and rubbing the sunscreen in with small circles. He crawls in front of her, flipping onto his side, and watches her.

“How do you feel today?”

“Fine. Good. Really good. The change of scenery is nice.”

“And the baby?”

“Active, but calm. I think she can tell I feel a little more relaxed here, when I’m not thinking about the giant list of things we have to get done before she gets here.”

“Shhh,” he interrupts, scooting closer and placing his hand on the swell of their baby. “Tell mommy she doesn’t need to worry about anything because we’ll get everything done and everything will be fine.”

“I can’t help it!” she good-naturedly exclaims, only to be shushed by Mulder once more.

“This is a private conversation between me and our child,” he continues, despite her eye roll and exasperated sigh. “Please don’t interrupt us.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, baby girl,” he starts, once again addressing her belly. “Your mom worries about everything and everybody, and that might infuriate you from time to time, but eventually you’ll learn that that’s just one of the many ways she shows you she loves you.” She’s caught off guard by his sentiment and tears spring to her eyes.

“She is always going to make sure you’re loved and taken care of, and that’s why you’re so lucky to have her.” He looks up at Scully then, noticing the wetness of her eyes, and he kisses one of her knees. “We both are. Care to add anything, doc?”

She shakes her head, blinking back unshed tears, and continues reapplying sunscreen. His hand wanders from her belly to her bathing suit bottoms and he fingers the olive green fabric.

“New?” he asks, subtly steering her away from anything else emotional and genuinely curious. She nods.

“I had to pick up a new one or two. I…outgrew my others, for lack of a better word.”

She looks pointedly at her bump.

“Yeah, I can imagine.”

He looks pointedly at her breasts.

She rolls her eyes and shoves him onto his back.

The next morning, they come across a sign for a local flea market, and that’s how they spend Saturday.

When they walk up to the booths, they’re immediately intrigued by the local art, jewelry, and clothing they see.

They walk through the rows of vendors like any other couple, hand in hand, fingers interlocked. She feels normal, almost mundane, on a vacation somewhere tropical with her partner walking beside her and their baby tossing and turning inside her. It’s hard, though, not to think about how much they had to overcome to get to this point. The people they’ve lost, the pain they’ve felt, all reminders of the trauma they’ve faced, both together and apart. It feels sometimes that those memories are just barely hovering out of her mind, waiting for the slightest thing to signal them back into her consciousness and fill her with dread.

She thinks about Melissa as they walk past a table of handmade jewelry. Her sister’s death has been on her mind more recently as she thinks about the lack of family their baby will have. She would have been an incredible aunt – cool and fun and warm, and sometimes it makes her chest throb when she thinks about just how much she misses her. She pulls on his hand to bring them to a halt and surveys the spread of necklaces, bracelets, and rings. She picks up a gold chain with a crescent moon pendant and runs her finger over the metal.

“Hand-forged,” the woman, who, Scully presumes, makes the jewelry, offers as she comes over to them. “Each piece is one-of-a-kind unique.”

Mulder peers over her shoulder at the metal in her hand and leans closer to her.

“You like it?” he asks into her ear, and she nods, but goes to put the necklace down. “Then we’ll take it,” he directs the latter part of his statement to the owner, and she scurries back the way she came to get a bag.

“Mulder, no, it’s unnecessary.” She tries to fight the gesture despite knowing how futile her efforts are. If he can do anything for her, even the smallest thing, like buying a necklace, he’s quick to jump at it.

“Let me do this for you. Think of it as an early push present.” At her look of amusement, he rushes to clarify. “I read about them online. They’re a nice sentiment. Besides,” he adds, as he hands a wad of cash to the woman and takes the small box she’s put the necklace in. “buying you jewelry now is good practice for when you decide I can give you a ring.”

She smirks and lifts up on the balls of her feet to plant a kiss on his cheek, lingering there for longer than necessary, and slips her hand in his, leading them once again down the aisle. As they walk, she’s looking up at a hanging light fixture to her left when she feels a soft touch on her right arm. She turns to the source and finds herself face to face with a woman who looks to be about a hundred years old, but smiling at her like an overzealous child.

“Come over,” she says, gesturing to a booth of what seems to be knitted goods. “I have something.”

Scully looks at Mulder who shrugs, essentially letting her decide what to do. She doesn’t sense any danger, just maternal warmth that reminds her of her mother, so they follow the woman to her stall.

Once in front of the items, she sees that they’re all hand-knitted goods. There are blankets, hats, and sweaters, all in different colors with different patterns. Scully runs her fingers over one of the beanies and she’s shocked at just how soft the material is.

She looks up and sees the old woman rustling around behind the items on display, apparently searching for something. Scully disentangles her and Mulder’s hands to properly look through some of the items. Each one is as soft and well crafted as the last, and both she and Mulder are almost elbow deep in fabric when the woman approaches them again.

“For baby,” she says, handing Scully what she now sees is a blanket and nodding to her bump. Instinctively, she takes the offered item from the woman and runs a hand across the front of her abdomen.

If it’s even possible, whatever this blanket is made out of is even softer than the things she was looking at before. It’s a baby blanket, she notices as she unfolds it to its full size, and it has light grey stars with sparkling thread hand-stitched all over the white fabric.

“It’s beautiful,” she tells her in earnest, running her thumbs across the raised edges of the stitching. “What on earth is it made of?”

The woman smiles and her expression reads as equal parts coy and proud.

“I mix my materials. I take a little from one, a little from another, just to make them feel like clouds. It’s all a secret.”

“How much for it?” Mulder asks, sensing that no matter what the cost, Scully isn’t going to walk away without it. The woman makes a dismissive motion with her hand.

“No charge. I spotted you walking past and you needed it. I have a sense.”

She shrugs, and Mulder still tries to take out his wallet.

“Please, you put far too much work into something like this to just give it away.”

She firmly shakes her head and then turns to address Scully directly.

“My mother had my sister late too. It all turned out okay. It will also turn out okay for you.” Scully nods as tears spring to her eyes, and Mulder wraps an arm around her shoulder, kissing the side of her head.

In the end, they decide to also buy a larger throw for the living room, one that resembles a certain blanket that used to reside in his apartment.

When she wakes from a nightmare in the middle of Sunday night, she realizes she should have known she wouldn’t have a few days of peace.

She jolts upright as much as she can at twenty weeks pregnant and tries to calm her racing heartbeat. She can’t remember the specifics of the dream, but she remembers the specific kind of fear she only associates with something happening to her child.

She palms her abdomen, selfishly begging for movement, and breathes a little easier when she feels what she thinks is a fist pushing back at her. She grabs her phone off the bedside table and checks the time. A little after 1 a.m. means she’s only been asleep for a few hours, yet she feels too wired to fall back asleep. She looks over at Mulder, on his stomach and oblivious next to her, and slips out of bed. She uses the bathroom, careful not to wake him, and tiptoes outside.

The midnight breeze is cool, but her body is so hot these days it feels welcome against her skin. She looks out at the ocean, watching how the inky black water moves and crashes, back and forth, in and out. Deciding to perch out here until her sudden burst of energy dissipates, she lowers herself into one of the deck chairs. The surface is a little rigid, and the angle is a little harsh, but she moves around a bit before finding a position that’s somewhat comfortable. Her hands fall to either side of her belly and she rubs slow circles, trying to calm down the baby she knows she riled up. Maybe it’s the cover of night, or the presence of the ocean, but she feels something loosen in her, and starts talking.

“It’s just you and me tonight, baby,” she begins. The kicks get stronger as the baby becomes more awake. “I’m sure that’ll change once you’re out here with us, because I’m usually so much better at sleeping, but tonight it’s just us.”

She pauses for a moment, choosing to cradle her stomach with her hands.

“I think I should apologize to you, baby girl, because we haven’t talked that much recently. Or, well, ever. Your daddy is a lot better at this than I am. He believes that everything will work out, and everything will be fine. When he believes in something, he believes so fiercely, so he’s been more willing to talk to you and…um…love you.

The truth is, baby, I’m so scared that something is going to happen to you and I’ll never get to meet you. You’ll find this out when you get to us, but we’re quite a bit older than other parents. I’m a lot older than other moms and that comes with a lot of risks – risks that could really hurt you. And the last thing I want is for you to be in danger because the truth is, baby, despite every effort to keep a part of me detached from you in case the unthinkable happens, I love you so much already. I think about holding you and kissing you and watching you grow up and I want it so badly it hurts. Thinking about that being taken away from me…again…made it so hard to let myself love you, baby girl, and I’m so sorry.

I’m also sorry you won’t have much family around when you meet us. Your daddy and I have…been through a lot, and I wouldn’t change a single thing, but it’s cost us some of the people closest to us. And now, by default, you. You won’t have grandparents to spoil you rotten. You won’t have aunts to teach you the secrets of the world. You won’t even have a brother to protect you and keep you safe and god, baby, I’m so, so sorry.

But I want you to know, if you enter this world with any knowledge at all, that your father and I love you more than you could ever think is possible. That despite how unexpected your existence is, you are loved and wanted, and we never for a second thought about not having you in our lives. I made that mistake once, baby girl, and I’m going to spend the rest of my life paying for it, but hopefully the entirety of yours making up for it.”

As she finishes, she sniffles and hears footsteps on the grass approaching her.

“I don’t think the doc had this in mind when she told you to relax.”

She huffs out a watery laugh, letting him lift her chin so he can look in her eyes.

“Did you know that now my immediate response to waking up without you next to me is to try to call the police? I didn’t, by the way, but that was the urge I had to quell.”

“I’m sorry, I woke up from a nightmare and couldn’t sleep and…”

“Decided to catch some rays?”

“Something like that. How long had you been standing there?”

“Long enough. Can you scoot?”

She nods and moves forward a bit on the deck chair, allowing him to slide in behind her. He brings her back to his chest and she falls back against him, immediately appreciating the relief of a soft surface behind her. His hands find their way to either side of her stomach and he rests his chin on her shoulder.

“I know how scared you are, and I also know that there’s nothing I can really say that will make you not scared because you’re carrying a baby and that’s just how that works, but I want you to know that my faith comes from your faith. I believe in you, and that lets me believe that both you and our baby will be okay.”

She’s crying again, so he takes the sleeve of his hoodie and wipes the tears that have already fallen down her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she chokes out, trying to burrow even deeper into his embrace as he tightens his hold on her. “Thank you for being here and for being you.”

He kisses her temple before she turns her head to give him access to her lips.

“Now, kid,” he says, rubbing small circles on her belly with the tips of his fingers. “If you think this is a memorable trip to Florida, wait till you hear this…”

#msr #this is so long i'm deadass sorry if the read more fails #anyway i was writing this last night #and finished around midnight #and then went to bed at 1 #and had to be awake at 4 to go to work #maybe i snapped #also there are three distinct things that inspired this but we don't have to talk about it #just know there are reasons #(me seeing the waitress tour 6 times in 8 days is one)#ficc

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abiodun-360degree · 2 years

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Business Growth for Travel and Tour Business If you want to grow your Ticketing and Reservation business. Consider the following solutions from Classic Technologies and Marketing Company 1. Consider Marketing. You see Marketing is not just a course of study. It is fascinating, amazing and as well it is beautiful. Your business can only move when you move. Sales don't just happen in a comfort zone. Clients want to see you. They want you to also pay them a visit. 2. Social Media. This is the world of digital business. Hence the need to know what to do with the smartphones in your hand. Post daily on Facebook and Instagram and you would see great changes in the way you do business. Have a social media calendar. Hire a Social media manager like Ajala Abiodun if you don't have one or consider having him even though you have. 3. Branding. You business need branding. Branding goes beyond logo and graphics. There is much in a name. Choose a name that would appeal to clients. There is much in a name than just having a business. 4. Implementation of Ideas. After reading this. Start implementing. Do not wait for money or loans before you start this business. The interest rate on loan in Nigeria is high. So let your passion and dream for business be higher than the need for loan. 5. Hire me as your Marketing Consultant. Then you should also consider having the right Team. See it takes money to erect a building. But it takes people to start a business. 6. Be visible on Google search engine. Register your biz on Google my business 7. Analyse the market plus your competition. 8. Have a budget for marketing. To learn more please follow this page or add me on WhatsApp 07034773284 for Digital Marketing updates #airline #Ticketing Dana Air Arik Air Frankfurt Airport #travel #dubai #japa #passport #airways #business #social daBliz_collections #digitalmarketing #onlineshopping #trade #forex #passport #singapore #storytelling #nigeriansindiaspora #falcon #supereaglesofnigeria #import #bbnaijaupdates #abujaconnect 2N A Ventures FIFTH SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS #website #content The Blue Motive #blog #moneymakingmindset #growthmindset #facebookpost #advertisingagency #B https://www.instagram.com/p/Ch9_564DeBM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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thisdaynews · 3 years

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Coronavirus Stimulus Implementation Created Over 2 Million Jobs – FG

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/coronavirus-stimulus-implementation-created-over-2-million-jobs-fg/

Coronavirus Stimulus Implementation Created Over 2 Million Jobs – FG

Nigeria has saved and made over 2million positions through the execution of the country’s Economic Sustainability Plan, ESP, planned because of the COVID-19 pandemic.