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emerald-studies · 4 years ago

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Diverse Perspectives | Discussion 3

I sent some questions to @jasperwhitcock for her perspective as a POC woman and daughter of an immigrant.

[ It is required to participate and watch/read these discussions, in order to follow me. Participate or get tf out. We aren’t performative in my lil’ area on Tumblr.

This discussion isn’t representative of an entire population or meant to be super professional. It’s to share different perspectives and also is an opportunity for me to practice what I preach: intersectionality. If you’d like to participate in this series please send me a pm or an ask and I’ll get back to you ASAP. We can do a written, audio, or video interview.]

As a mixed person, do you feel isolated from your community?

J: If you mean community as in the community I currently live in, I’m fortunate enough to live in a very diverse place. Surrounding the city of Houston, there’s a lot of prejudice integrated into a lot of the suburban neighborhoods, but in terms of the city itself, I think the POC communities really uplift and support each other. I’m a concert photographer when there’s not a pandemic, and I’ve always appreciated the way latinos and black artists are respected in the indie community. Houston’s a very rap/hip hop/R&B city, so black artists are especially celebrated. There’s also great latinx bands that I know, latinx venue owners/employees, and latinx brands connected to the indie community. We’re very well represented in this area.

If you mean community as in the latinx community, I wouldn’t say isolated, but depending on the day, I might say that I can feel distanced at times. This isn’t particularly due to the latinx community itself, so much as it may be a distance that I create in my head. As a mixed person, I think there are times where you can feel confused on where you belong. I’ve brought up the quote before from the Selena movie, where Selena’s father Abraham is speaking on the potential difficulty of Selena being accepted in Mexico because of the fact she is Mexican American: “We have to be more Mexican than the Mexicans and more American than the Americans, both at the same time! It's exhausting!” It can be difficult at times to navigate your sense of belonging when you are in between two cultures because you want to recognize that you may have privileges someone of full Mexican descent may not have, but at the same time, your life is still very much defined by being Mexican and having Mexican blood while living in America too. You’re definitely not absolved from having latin experiences. Latina stand up comedian Anjelah Johnson made a joke in her stand up about there being a Latinx hierarchy. She said that Spanish speaking latinos are better than the rest of us who are not fluent in Spanish (such as herself), and it was funny because sometimes you do feel that that can be true. My tías will always ask me why I’m not fluent in Spanish, and my mom will be like “yeah, why don’t you?” and I’m always like… because y’all didn’t teach me! My parents speak Spanish to each other at home. My father is not only fluent in Spanish, but his Spanish is oftentimes superior to a lot of Spanish speakers according to my mom and my tíos. He used to teach English in Mexico, so there is no reason that my sister and I shouldn’t have been perfectly bilingual. The reason they didn’t teach us as children is because they didn’t want us to be speaking Spanglish. (Spoiler: it happened anyways). Around white people, I definitely feel that I am not a white person. I feel very much latina in a group of white people. But then around latin people, I sometimes feel white enough to feel a sense of shyness. I definitely feel more at home with latinx people, but overall in both groups, I definitely feel that I am mixed.

It doesn’t happen often, because I think although the majority of latinx people have pride in their background, the hyperawareness of our identities right now is relatively new, but there have been instances of latinx gatekeeping the latin identity. Growing up, I didn’t think about what I was labelled as or think about how my family structure is different to other families. I didn’t consider how in some areas, it is an abnormality to have an immigrant parent or a parent with an accent. I definitely noticed that my family was different, but I didn’t understand why until much later. My mom, her sisters and brothers, and my primos… They don’t live their lives with the awareness of being defined as Mexican immigrants. Of course, they again have pride in where they came from. They live as Mexicans and engage in Mexican culture, but overall, the way the youth today has really grasped onto the labelling of our identity is kind of a new thing. There are some young latinx people who do try to quantify and measure whether or not your experience is valid. I know it comes from a place of protectiveness of their own experience, but it’s ridiculous to gate keep because something that really characterizes latin culture is our warmth, our sense of family, our willingness to embrace other people as part of that. If you’re of latin american descent, you have a place in the latinx community.

Since your parents don’t have college degrees, do you believe college is important and/or necessary?

J: I think it depends! I think a lot of immigrant parents really push for their children to get a college education because they see that as opportunity, particularly when they did not earn college degrees themselves. I think college can be important depending on what you want to accomplish, but I also think it’s not completely necessary. For my career path as a photographer/videographer, I chose not to do college. I do think I would have enjoyed college because I like learning, but because it was something unnecessary for my job, I couldn’t justify the time invested or putting my parents into a difficult financial situation. Especially because my college education would have overlapped with my sister, and I saw how difficult it was to juggle handling my sister’s student loans. For my sister’s career path (she is studying to be a nutritionist/therapist to help teenagers with eating disorders), college was necessary.

Your Mom has been stuck in the US, unable to return to Mexico for awhile, has your Mom’s experience with immigration changed your views in some way?

J: As context, my father lived in Mexico for a decade and married my mom in Mexicali. They hadn’t planned to move to the United States, but when they came to the US to marry here so that she could have citizenship and be able to visit his family, there were complications that made it to where she couldn’t leave the country. Luckily, the time she was unexpectedly stuck in the United States didn’t last super long! Long enough to become comfortable enough to decide to settle down in California, but we have been able to travel to Mexico often. I think it really highlights how unnecessarily complicated a lot of the processes regarding immigration are. The people in the country who are very malicious about undocumented immigrants love to jump to saying, “well, why can’t they just become an American citizen?” when the reality is that every process in place has a lot of complications. Not everyone has access to the resources to be able to make these transitions happen smoothly. Also, the time it takes to acquire your visa is not an overnight thing. People severely underestimate the difficulty involved.

What do you think about the “hard-working immigrant” stereotype?

J: I hate the idea that immigrants work hard because they’re low-skilled, but I do love that there is a lot of pride in how motivated immigrants are. It’s always been a ridiculous claim that immigrants are taking American jobs. Immigrants work the jobs that the majority of Americans have no interest in doing, especially the people that make this complaint. For a country that prides itself on working to make your dreams come true, Americans neglect to recognize that immigrants have a drive that most Americans don’t have.

Which parent do you feel more connected to? Your Mother who’s an immigrant or your Father who was born in America?

J: I really do feel that I am a coalescence of both my parents, so I think I feel equally connected to each of them. I feel a very strong emotional connection and concern for my dad because his mental health suffers a lot. His mother had bipolar depression at a time where mental health was even more stigmatized, and she endured a lot of ridiculous, merciless treatments that are no longer utilized today. When he was nine years old, his mom committed suicide, and this was an event that really defined his life forever. I think that kind of heaviness passes down through your family. When my dad is not doing well, I feel really imbalanced and emotionally impacted even if I’m not home to witness it. It’s kind of like that idea of an invisible string tethering you to someone, and it’s a weight that I carry always. However, overall, he’s a very positive person. When he is going through his kind of manic highs, he’s a lot more of what I recognize of who my dad is. He’s creative, a musician, and deeply caring for other people. His mother’s death has empowered him to really try to make a difference and “paint a picture of a better tomorrow.” I’m a lot like my dad in personality, but in disposition, I’m so much like my mom. She’s tough and outspoken at home, but in public, it takes awhile for her to open up. My mom’s very selfless, kind, and very much shy and quiet. She definitely exemplifies a lot of the sacrifice that you see many immigrants make. I do like both sides of my family, but I definitely feel more at home with the Mexican side. My dad’s side is loud, vivacious, and very much funny, but I feel extremely shy around them. My sister and I have always felt a tiny bit left out. I think they’d be hurt to know we feel this way, but I definitely don’t think they do anything to intentionally enforce this division. But I think it developed because there is a bit of a cultural disconnect between my aunts and my mom. It’s also very interesting to me that when they first met my mom, my mom didn’t speak any English. It’s fascinating to consider how it might change your perception of someone to go from not being able to communicate with them to watching them learn your language. My mom enjoys the time that we do spend with my dad’s family, but she’s kind of the odd one out in that her humor isn’t the same and her experiences are so different. I think that my dad’s sister and brother’s families were able to connect in a stronger way, so sometimes my mom, my sister, and I feel just a little isolated. In those moments, I feel the most aware of my Mexican background. With my mom’s side of the family, it’s a lot more comfortable. My dad’s able to develop his humor in a way that translates well into Spanish, so he fits in very easily.

You’ve lived in a “Blue/more liberal” state and a “Red/more conservative” state, which state has affected you more?

J: Definitely the red state. Seeing how intensely and ridiculously conservative some southern people are has really radicalized me in a way. I feel overwhelmingly liberal because there’s a defensiveness that develops when you’re in a space like this where you have this intense disbelief that people hold the ideas that they do. Especially because in Texas, black and latinx culture is a major contributor to southern culture. There’s a lot to be said about how black culture shapes the south, but because I’m latina, I’m focusing on latinx culture with this question. White conservatives want our food, they want our work, but they don’t want us. I don’t understand how anyone can be all #TacoTuesday one day, and then the next, be anti-immigrant. If you really want Mexicans out of your country, then maybe you should start living your life without any Mexican influence. Stop eating Mexican food. Clean your own pool and mow your own lawn. It’s ignorant to speak down on immigrants when their life would be so altered to be rid of immigrants. They rely on immigrants. Their lives are shaped by immigrants and built by immigrants.

(I had to chime in here: )

Are you proud of your parents?

J: Absolutely. As a young teenager, I had a lot of problems with my parents. I think I still have issues I’m working through as a result, but now that I’m older, I really do feel a deep sense of admiration and respect for them. Growing up really makes you view your parents differently and understand them as people rather than just as parents. I held onto a lot of anger and resentment, but I’ve come to truly see how they really did do their best. They’ve worked very hard, and I think not having everything that kids around me did really helped me grow into a more grateful person.

Have you faced discrimination for your race?

J: Of course, but in all honesty, it really rolls off my back. I think hate that is personally directed at me doesn’t bother me, but the discrimination that does affect me is anything directed or related to my mom. I remember my parents had a customer who made a really ugly complaint to my father about my mom’s english. My mom essentially handles most of the written communication with their business, and she still speaks and types in broken english often. The majority of my parents’ clients are latinx, so it’s typically not an issue, but it’s unbelievably offensive and ridiculous the assumptions people will make about your intelligence based on your english. The customer had no idea that the woman she’d been communicating with was my father’s wife rather than just an employee. It’s really sad how someone can see someone as unworthy of respect until they’re tied to a white man, and then they’re suddenly apologetic. This is another extremely mild example, but I’ll get a few laughs when I mispronounce something or don’t know how to say certain words. People always find it funny as though it’s embarrassing –– and it definitely can be –– but people forget I learned english from a woman who speaks two languages.

As the child of an immigrant, how has the anti immigrant talking point affected your mental health?

J: I think the toll the anti-immigrant bias in the United States has on immigrant children is a relevant conversation to have, but I think I’m very lucky in that I feel very tough in the face of that ignorance (which is not to say anyone whose mental health suffers as a result is not tough!) If anything, I feel pity for the people who are so hateful that they see other human beings in such a derogatory and entitled way. Similar to what I said before, my outrage really comes from a place of defensiveness for others. The talking point doesn’t hurt me, but it hurts me that people can speak about my family and my community the way they do. It hurts me that there are other immigrant children who have to work as hard as their parents to make their sacrifices worth it, and people are so insensitive as to not respect that. I’m pretty strong, but it does break my heart when my people are disrespected. If someone were to say something to me, that’s fine, but if i saw someone mistreating a little mexican lady in the store… I may be 5’3 but that don’t mean I won’t come for your ass. Okay, in all honesty, I’m really not a violent person. I’m more of a rise above kind of person because the hate someone has in their heart is not worth our time, but some people do need a chancla thrown at them to learn some respect.

In your opinion, in what ways does the Latinx community need more support?

J: I think because the latinx community is so much so composed of hard workers, people really need to support latin businesses more. That’s a direct way to impact latin lives. There’s an abundance of latin small business owners in every category. So many white kids love going to Cozumel for Spring Break and love wearing sombreros on Cinco De Mayo, but then the rest of the year, they have no care or respect for the authentic culture. For every dollar a white man makes, hispanic women still make statistically less than white women, asian women, black women, and native women. We gotta back up these businesses. Choose local taco shops or restaurants over chains. Choose online shops and Mexican boutiques over fast fashion. And this applies to everybody. We can always support black business or asian businesses over large competitors. It really does make an impact. I also think a lot of latinx children need access to better mental health resources. I’m lucky in that because my father struggles with mental health issues, mental health in my family wasn’t exactly a taboo, but in a lot of latin families, mental health is something that is hard for older parents to validate. Latin children need those resources. A simple google search of “latin mental health resources,” bring up a bunch of organizations that you can support. I think every POC community needs to be boosted right now because although we’ve been under attack, conversations about minority communities are being had by white people right now. We have their attention, and we do need their support to enact change because they have the power as the oppressor. We need to be going to bat protecting black people right now because of the insane damage the community has been enduring at the hands of police, and we need to be protecting immigrant children from what’s happening to them at the border. I know the election is extremely controversial right now, but I would urge anyone who has the ability to vote to really consider the importance of doing so. People love to be cynical about how our votes don’t matter, and I understand that cynicism, but a lot of immigrants don’t have the luxury of voting when the results of the election will directly impact their lives. I hate that there is no option of a president that will perfectly support POC communities, but there are options whose party is far more aligned with supporting and protecting POC communities than Trump is. Trump spews hate and fuels racism and prejudice. He calls Mexicans rapists and black protestors thugs. He encourages the blaming of the coronavirus on the asians in our country. He does not need any help winning the election. We need to get this hateful man out, and I strongly encourage anyone who can vote to do so.

Let’s have a discussion! Did you learn anything new from this conversation?

Let me know here.

To close out each post, I’d like to write a lil’ paragraph about the person I talk with:

I’m so lucky to have you as a friend darling. You always bring a smile to my face when we chat. You’re funny and so smart. I admire you deeply for being able to share your perspective in a clear way. Thank you for putting up with my 2 am messages lol 🖤🖤🖤🖤Your continued support makes me feel safe and very, very, loved. I hope I encourage the same feeling with you.

You’re the best babe,

-Faithxx

#intersectionality #immigration #diverse perspectives #poc #twilight #discussions with faith

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cosplayinamerica · 4 years ago

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Armor Batman from Batman vs.Superman / Cosplayer: blksqdrnstudios // photo : @s1price_lightworks

Tell us about Armor Batman from Batman vs Superman, what inspired you to embark on this build?

I have been a lifelong Batman fan. It started with the 1989 Batman and has spiraled out of control! I have been an artist and a maker for many years. I have sat behind many tables in Artist Ally looking out at Cosplayers wanting to build something of my own. I had never done a cosplay and wanted to do something that I had not seen before. When BvS came out and I saw the Armored Batman I knew that was going to be my first cosplay build!

What was the process like in putting the suit together?

As this was my first-time using EVA Foam, I started to search for YouTube channels with tutorials (Evil Ted, Cosplay Chris, etc.), reaching out to cosplayers that I knew from the Con circuit, and even reached out to makers/builders from the BvS movie. I gathered as much reference material that I could find of the suit. I got books, toys, screen shots, I watched the movie seemingly hundreds of times. Anything to understand the suit to be as accurate as possible.

Were there any difficulties and how did you overcome it?

Oh, yes. I had never worked with EVA foam before. I think I made the right shoulder bell at least ten times before I figured it out. So much trial and error to get it all right. Sizing, connecting the armor, wearing the armor, MOVING in the armor. I was working on it anywhere from 2-4 hours a day for 2.5 months.

Photo : gordontscott

What was the response like at conventions? Tell us some of your favorite moments?

I was not expecting the overwhelming positive response at cons. From the first convention people flocked to me for photos and to just say “Martha”. The first time I wore it at a con the left shoulder came detached and the boot soles ripped out, but I was able to find a booth to stand at to help them draw in a crowd. I think I took over a hundred photos with people that day.

My favorite memory was at the last AwesomeCon here in DC. There was a Batman exhibit that took up a large portion of the con floor. They had every live action bat suit on display excluding the Mech Suit Batman. So, I stood at the end of the row and when people would take pics, I would take a step forward making people jump. Even before this it took me over an hour to get from the entrance to the con floor having to stop to take photos.

Have you continuously updated the cosplay? What version is this?

Definitely. Each time I wear the suit it is a learning experience. Mainly learning ways to improve mobility. Also, I have learned how to use EVA foam a bit better, so I am constantly making new pieces and adding new details.

How has cosplay impacted your life?

Aside from financially (commissions and such), seeing the happiness that my cosplays brings people at Cons and Halloween in my neighborhood. Little kids and adults alike yelling “Hey Batman!” is an awesome feeling!

Future cosplay and personal/professional goals?

I have been working on a Knightmare Batman (Desert Batman from BvS) for the past year. I had plan to debut it as the 2020 AwesomeCon but that was cancelled due to Covid. I am super excited to wear this one out and about!

I have also been working on a Beskar Armor Din Djarin for some time but with the lack of cons the motivation to finish has been low.

I am really itching to build a Red Hood suit!

Tell us about Black Squadron Studios!

For the longest time I was just an illustrator under the name of “The Art of BP”. I have drawn sketch cards for Topps, Upper Deck, and Cryptozoic Entertainment. It was a dream come true to draw officially licensed Star Wars cards! Then I started to build props too for my own collection and the response was incredible! Star Wars blasters, Batman props, etc. People started to commission props along with my artwork, so I decided to expand to Black Squadron Studios!

Under Black Squadron Studios I take commissions for illustrations, props, helmets, cosplay builds, and graphic design!

https://linktr.ee/BlackSquadronStudios

#armor batman #armor batman cosplay #batman #batman cosplay #cosplay interview #male cosplayer #cosplay

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xpedropascal · 4 years ago

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To Be So Lonely [Maxwell Lord x Reader] Part Three

Summary: After being struck by a family tragedy, Maxwell Lord finds his legacy in taking over his father’s business, Black Gold Cooperative. Cold and shut-off from the world around him, he decides he does not have time for anything other than his work and cares only about pushing his company to success – but how difficult does that become for him when you enter his life as a ghost from the past?

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

WARNINGS: mention of suicide, character death, illness (cancer)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR [coming soon!]

MASTERLIST

KO-FI

AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter three! this is quite an intense one so please check the warnings before reading. flashbacks can be identified through use of italics. To Be So Lonely will have themes of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff etc. i plan on it being a whole exciting ride. there will be connections to the DCEU and certain characters will making an appearance… however, for story-telling purposes, this will be in an alternate universe to Wonder Woman 1984 just because the movie has yet to be released. the main bulk of the story will be set in the 80s, with the occasional childhood flashbacks. please let me know if you want to be added onto a tag list!

♡ ♡ ♡ THREE ♡ ♡ ♡

You were still frozen, your brain struggling to process what had just happened. It wasn’t until city hall’s bell chimed and you knew it had turned 6PM, you were snapped out of your thoughts. You cursed under your breath and hurriedly put the cloth and spray you were holding behind the counter before bolting into your manager’s small make-shift office. On his desk, you located an ivory envelope, sealed, with your name written on it. You knew exactly what it was and ripped it open on instinct, collecting this month’s salary. Flicking your fingers through the green dollar bills, you found yourself mentally calculating how much your work this month had earned you. You sighed, puffing out your cheeks and feeling disheartened. Only $320. Grabbing your jacket and purse, you locked up the coffee shop.

When you stepped foot on the street outside, you took in the cool evening air. It felt so refreshing. Every pay day, you knew exactly where you needed to go and what you’d be spending your salary on. Swinging your purse over your shoulder you jogged over to the pharmacy just a few blocks away, and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that the kind owner had yet to close. You stumbled in, trying to catch your breath and offered the owner of the pharmacy a warm smile. “Hi Mrs Walters,” you greeted her.

“Hi dear, how was work?” She leaned her sweeping brush into a corner and approached you, rubbing your shoulders in a comforting manner. You had been seeing Mrs Walters consistently more or less since you moved back to Gotham, and had grown increasingly close to her. You didn’t have time for friendships anymore, but the short, white haired lady had always been there for you during the darkest of times. You considered telling her about your run-in with Bruce Wayne, but figured that wouldn’t be the best idea since you were still trying to make sense of it all.

“It was okay. Same old. Do you have my mother’s prescription ready?” You quizzed Mrs Walters. The pharmacist gave you a knowing look and grabbed a rather large paper bag with Lucia Y/L/N (your mother’s name) written on it. The bag was filled with pills and potions used to make your mother’s life just that little bit easier. Upon leaving DC, your mother became sick but as you watched her health deteriorate, and knowing there was no cure for her illness, you swore to yourself you would do anything in your means to make her life as comfortable as could be. If that meant spending almost the entirety of your monthly salary on her, so be it.

“Yes, that will be $300.” Mrs Walters said, her fingers clicking away as she checked the numbers into the cash register. You pulled out your wages from your purse and handed them over to the pharmacist. Despite Mrs Walters giving you discount like she always would, it didn’t change the fact you had only just been paid and were now practically spent up for the month. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at the kind lady, offering her a polite smile, and took the heavy paper bag filled to the brim with medication. With only twenty dollars to last the rest of the month, you decided to against getting the bus and travelled home by feet. It’s a mild night anyway- you told yourself.

♡

“Mother, with all due respect…” Maxwell Lord rolled his eyes as his mother paced around the spacious kitchen of Maxwell Lord’s DC penthouse, her high heels clicking against the pristine tiled floor. Thanks to botox from DC’s finest plastic surgeons, Naomi Lord had barely aged. She was still strutting around in that same ruby red lipstick, decked out in the most elegant pearls retrieved from the deepest part of the ocean, and her platinum blonde hair still sat in the tightest of curls.

“No Maxwell, you need to listen to me. I am not going to watch you make the same mistakes as your father did. Wasting away your shares in Black Gold like it’s nothing!”

Maxwell sighed, gently putting down his mug of espresso on the kitchen counter and closing his copy of The Financial Times. “It’s called investment.”

“Investing into what, exactly? Charity?” Naomi chuckled in disbelief. “Just like your father.” She reiterated. “Had some kind of complex, thinking he could singlehandedly fix the world by donating a few thousand to- what? The local library?” Naomi narrowed her eye’s at the cheque which had been written out in Maxwell’s name. Maxwell made a fist.

“I am nothing like my father.” Maxwell snapped, abruptly standing and pointing his ring clad finger, wincing at his mother’s painful comparison. Naomi suddenly quietened down, taking the hint that she had perhaps overstepped her boundaries. But she, like her son, was not one to give up.

“Sweetheart,” Naomi said, her voice gentle as she sat her son back down. “You know, all I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for Black Gold Cooperative. Because what is best for Black Gold Cooperative, is best for you.”

Maxwell’s mother had been telling her son this every single day after his father passed. After his father had selfishly chosen to leave him. It was no wonder he had engrained into him that his main priority was the family business. He was so sure he could never forgive his father for what he had done.

♡

When sixteen year old Maxwell Lord discovered his father’s body, the cry he let out was not one any mother wanted to hear from their child. Not even Naomi Lord. Maxwell fell to his knees and crawled over to his father’s body, grabbing on to it and swearing he’d never let go. Tears streaming down his face, he screamed for his mother. He yelled for help. Naomi came running into her husband’s office where she was met with her son, cradling Maxwell Lord III’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Oh Max, oh Max, oh Max,” she whispered repeatedly as she approached her son and gently tore him away from his father. Maxwell screamed as he let go and curled into his mother’s arms, sobbing. Naomi’s heart was shattered, and she buried her face into her son’s dark blonde hair, comforting him the best she could. She sat with Maxwell, on the floor, for only a few minutes, until she was able to compose herself and stand up. She took her son’s hand and pulled him up. “Sit here. Sit here my love, I’m going to call Lucia.” Naomi pulled her husband’s office chair out and watched her son shakily sit in it. She handed him a box of tissues and walked over to the phone, dialling the extension to the guest house. “Ah yes, Lucia it seems I could use your assistance. In my husband’s office. Quickly.” Naomi put the phone down and took a deep breath. “Okay Maxwell, brighten up. No time to mourn. Things are going to change real fast for you,” she rubbed the tears away from her son’s eyes. “Look at me. I need you to go to your room and change into your best suit, and then wait for me in the lobby.”

“But dad-“ Maxwell whimpered, and turned to look at his father one last time.

“I won’t ask you again.” Naomi said sternly. Maxwell nodded obediently and stood up before leaving the office.

Naomi watched her son leave, stiffening up and kneeling beside her husband on the floor. With great difficulty, she was able to regulate her breathing and hold back any tears. Hidden in the pocket of his suit jacket, she found a note. Unfolding it, she read her husband’s final words.

‘Naomi,

This was never meant to happen. Lord Tech was a failure- my failure. I always knew you were against the expansion of Black Gold Cooperative but with Wayne Enterprises’ taking over the states, I felt like I had no other choice. We’re losing money, and a lot of it. As of today, I will be disenfranchising Lord Technologies. It will be no more; for I have made a discovery, that our company, our family business, has been creating and selling carcinogenic products. I am filled with extreme guilt. How am I to go on, when it is our family name that will be responsible for hundreds of deaths worldwide.

On the second Monday of March, I asked our house-keeper, Lucia, to collect my belongings from our head laboratory. Naomi, darling, I have no doubt that she will be infected with the illness. Everyone who has been in proximity with our head lab developers will now have the cancer. I feel for her daughter. I found out that the cancer is a new strain. Lucia knows nothing about this and I expect for it to stay that way. The outbreak will make news eventually but it cannot be associated with my family name. The Lord family has nothing to do with this. Hide my note, and when the time comes, pass it on to my boy Maxwell, when he is old enough to understand.

Oh my dearest Maxwell… my wife, you should ensure he does not make the same mistakes as I did. Black Gold Cooperative still has a chance of success and our family legacy must go on! But not under my rule. Which is why, I will be passing on the business to him. Black Gold is our priority. It will always be our priority.

My boy, on the chance that you read this, know that I have always loved you. I’ve not been the best father, but even in death know that I have always cared so deeply about you.

Make me proud.

With love,

Maxwell Lord III’

Naomi gulped, folding away the note and slipping it into the pocket of her fur jacket.

“Mrs Lord,” Lucia appeared by the office door frame and when she caught sight of Maxwell Lord III’s dead body she gasped, stumbling backwards.

“Suicide,” Naomi explained, raising to her feet. “Lucia, are you sick?”

“I’m okay,” Lucia knotted her eyebrows in confusion, but she had no time to question it. “Mrs Lord… I am so… so sorry…”

“Lucia I need you to call an ambulance and report a suicide,” Naomi instructed.

“Did he leave a note?” Lucia asked.

Naomi hesitated before letting out a strong “No.”

“Oh…”

“Call the press too.” Naomi said.

“The press?”

“I’ll be the one to announce my husband’s demise… not some random paparazzi selling the story to the tabloids. I also have to announce the closure of Lord Technologies. From now on, our focus will be on Black Gold Cooperative… it’s what my husband would’ve wanted.” Naomi replied, the usual bitterness dripping from her tongue.

“You’re taking over Black Gold?” Lucia questioned further.

“No, my son is.”

“But Max is just a child…”

“My son will be CEO of Black Gold Cooperative. He is a Lord. He has what it takes.”

Lucia gulped. “I have no doubt but don’t you think you should give him a little time to grieve before you throw all this at him.”

“Are you telling me how to raise my son, Ms Y/L/N?” Naomi spat and Lucia looked at her feet. “I want you to call the authorities, call the press, pack your bags and leave before they get here.”

“Leave?” Lucia gasped. “But- but I have nowhere to go. And my daughter-“

“That is my final order.” Naomi said, pointing her finger towards the door.

♡

Maxwell took a sip of his now cold espresso, it left a sour taste in his mouth. He reopened his newspaper and shook off his mother’s words.

“Maxie,” Barbara Minerva’s voice made Maxwell jump. She had the same effect on him as his mother did. She called his name again before finding him still sat at the breakfast bar.

“Barbara what are you doing here?” Maxwell sighed, feeling slightly uneasy at the way her diamond engagement ring glinted in the white lights of his kitchen. “You know not to come to my penthouse uninvited.”

“Your mother faxed me. She’s called the tabloids again… anonymously, of course. The press are going to be waiting for us at the Plaza restaurant on Sunday. She wants us to officially announce the engagement.” Barbara smiled, wrapping her arms around Maxwell and pressing a kiss into his jaw.

“Don’t.” Maxwell said, shuddering away from her. “You don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. Just. Don’t.” Maxwell was filled with the regret of getting intimate with Barbara, his secretary, in his office the night before. Now Barbara was overstepping her boundaries. She might have been engaged to Maxwell, but he did not tolerate any physical affection from her unprompted. If this is what love was, Max didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He was still cold, and still miserable.

Naomi had set Barbara and Maxwell up and within three months they were already engaged. Barbara was truly smitten with Maxwell. He had everything she wanted; money, fame, power and fortune… and Barbara was certainly beautiful, but Maxwell had never really considered marriage. Not since he was a child and used to dream of marrying the little girl who lived in his guest house.

“Max.” Barbara had been chanting her fiancée’s name for the past couple of minutes. It seemed like Maxwell was in his own little world.

“Yeah. We can’t go to the Plaza on Sunday.” Max shook his head, standing up and fixing his tie.

“What?”

“I have a lot to do. Gotta prepare for my meeting with Bruce Wayne for a start. Do you have my schedule for Monday?”

“Max, I’m only your secretary when I’m at work…” Barbara reminded the CEO. “We haven’t been on a date in so long. I know this is your mother’s doing but please… I want the world to know I’m going to be the future Mrs Lord.”

Maxwell stared at his bride-to-be for a few moments before letting out another deep sigh. “Okay,” he agreed. “Come on. You can share a ride with me. Don’t want to be late for work.”

♡

“Mom! I’m home!” you called as you entered your Gotham apartment, throwing your keys on the counter and gently placing the brown paper bag of medication down. “You won’t believe who came into the shop and asked me out on a date.”

Your eyes caught on to your mother, Lucia, who was laying on the sofa, sleeping. Her chest was rattling as it heaved up and down. She looked even worse than she did before you left her to go to work that morning. You walked into the kitchen and took a towel, running it under the tap to dampen it. You brought it back into the living room and placed it gently on your mother’s forehead hoping to cool her down. You brought her a glass of ice, knowing it would have melted into water by the time she wakes up, and a bottle of pills, putting it near her on the coffee table. You gave her a gentle kiss, kicked off your shoes and entered your bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you looked at your reflection in your full length mirror and began fumbling with your fingers. How could you possibly prepare yourself for a date with Bruce Wayne?

♡♡♡ TAGLIST ♡♡♡

@mrschiltoncat @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thisisthe-way @phoenixhalliwell @buckysalefty

#maxwell lord x reader #maxwell lord #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #max lord x reader #max lord

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lamalefix · 4 years ago

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Okay so, a couple of weeks ago started my new journey.

I've been reorienting a bit in the past few years.

As much as I loved and will always love psychology, developmental and learning psychology specifically, brain (to be read exclusively with zombie-like voice) and its physiology, disorders and rehabilitation and so on, I found that Human Resources was a field so interconnected with what I studied and caught my interest. It didn’t always have my interest, I thought at first that this kind of organizational, managerial thing wasn’t fit for me but...

... Sometimes life treats you good when you least expect it, sometimes the things you do, the tiny choices you make on the road, change your life, your journey completely.

And it's quite a long story so sit down, take a cup of tea and let me tell you this story...

Please note that I’d use nicknames for the story, not because I want to add privacy at the matter but because I usually use those names with my friends (I’m weird, I know)

We live in a pretty chill, green area in Rome.

For some reason beyond my knowledge, when we bought our apartment, back in 1998, we ended up to live near my godmother.

She had a couple of dogs, and has a lot of dog-friends and dog-owners-friends.

A lot of you know I have a dog (Zelda, that beautiful silly golden retriever who loves to snuggle with my shoes), and when this story started, due to my internships and different jobs around the city, was usually my ma the one who took her on her strolls.

Before we decided to get a dog, right after my master's degree graduation ceremony my godfather (my godmother's husband) died.

It hit hard. At five in the morning on a cold day at the end of january my godmother called and told us the news. He had a heart attack and died on the spot, while working.

I clearly remember the last conversation I had with him, a couple of days before he died. He was walking his dog and I was waiting the bus under our homes. He was always so funny, he made a joke, and if I close my eyes everytime I step near that bus stop, I still hear him laugh and huff something along the lines of “Urgh going to the gym at this god-awful hour by bus, you really want to suffer”, and I smile everytime. But aside of my weird choices about my fitness life, this isn’t the story I want to tell you about.

After his funeral, for the next months before my internship started, I practically only slept at my house but lived at my godmother's to help out. So there I met two beautiful men (in both the inner and outer sense), that we’ll call Grey Fox and Tall-n-young, that lived across the road. They had dogs, Grey Fox had two adorable sausages dachshounds and Tall-n-young a chubby half-beagle. My ma just fit in, like a clockwork, rolled around them, every evening walked with them without a dog, but with them and my godmother, her sister and their dogs. (The story of how my godmother found her new stray dog on her husband's grave and he looked at her when she called him with her husband's nickname is for another time but... You know).

Meanwhile, my dad at work meets a new coworker whose wife is a pet trainer. And everything clicks in the right place.

I went to met Zelda (fishing my hand into the litter and she chose me by licking and snuggling against me - and my shoe) only a few months later.

But this isn't the story of how I met my dog either. This is the story of how I met my boss and how I decided I wanted the HR Management field to be something to pursue.

I met my boss, mentor and friend in a very weird moment of my life. I was finishing two contemporary internships at a Private Centre and a University Centre that offered help to families with kids with developmental and learning disorders. Up til that moment I knew my job would have been in that field, developmental psychology and rehabilitation, even if it was a stressful place to be at some point. I wanted to be a psychologist since age 5, not a princess, never a princess, who cares for princesses? I worked, without being paid (because that's how internships work for psychologists in Italy) more than 40 hours a week, from monday to saturday 8 am to 8/9 pm, and I hat to take a lot of work, papers and so on home, for over two years... And you'd say, "Why Giulia did you like it so much?".

One of my friend urged me to quit because I was so tired, couldn’t find time for myself and I just found out I couldn't enter the PhD I wanted, but I needed my abilitation at least, be a psychologist.

Meanwhile my ma was always around with the dogs and her new friends. She met Lovely, another dog owner who took a liking in me. A beautiful lovely girl, who sadly had a very aggressive cancer, that took her away three years ago.

One day Grey Fox who shared his birthday with Lovely invites me over along with my ma and my dog, because Lovely wanted me there. I never met Grey Fox’s partner up til that moment, everyone said he worked a lot, everyone said he did weird hours and travelled a lot, and he was doing something very similiar to what I studied, he worked as something like a therapist. (Something you’d call a life coach, in hindsight),

So, when I get there I finally met him, we will call him Nose-y (because you know, he has a pretty big nose), my boss, my mentor. He was sitting on that beige sofa in Grey Fox’s house, one of the dachshunds licking the back of his head, the other snuggling on his lap. And we start to talk. About tv series, about psychology, therapy, schoo, learning processes, about work and career paths. He said he was about to quit is job and move forward to get something done by his own hands, and open up what you'd call a start-up in coaching and HR management.

He wants me on his boat, he wants me to help him.

And that's how it started.

But not when I decided I wanted to go in this direction. As I said HR management and coaching per se, are like very close and interconnected with psychology, but I always sat on another corner, walking another path. Preferring underlying brain processes and biology more than production and management.

That decision was took sometime later.

After he quit his job as a top manager and Lovely died, after i got my abilitation and started to help out as a volunteer with elders, homeless and people with social and financial difficulties.

One day Nose-y asks if I want to join him and an actress and acting teacher, a beautiful woman that we’ll call Blondie, in one of their workshops.

We end up in the centre of Rome, in a theatre right behind Piazza Navona. The participants were members of a high performing team of a big org, I don’t remember the names, and I wouldn’t even if I tried.

They enter at some point in the theatre, and it doesn't need a psychologist to know that they are broken. Blondie makes me sit behind the light and sound effect technic table, and instructs me how to help out with that. Music, lights, enable their (our?) method to be even more effective.

The theatre is a underground thing, like a cavern-ish, basement in the centre of Rome, a typical thing you’d call a cellar that you’d find in old buildings.

I didn't know when I went there that morning, at the end of june, that I'd make some final decision by sunset.

The team, I was saying, was a tiny super-high performing team. But with high performance comes high stress level. And one of them killed himself. And they found him in the morning, in their office. And in that dark theatre they were blaming each other, and Luigi and Marta's job was to accompany them through grief and acceptance and restore their team work. By the end of the day, they were all more able to communicate, to listen, to help each other.

That was the moment. When I saw them leave, Nose-y and Blondie all tired and all wilt on a couch, but satisfied that I decided. I wanted to change, to be a better person, maybe a better manager, for a better future. I wanted to be one of the many people who work in HR Management that can be a support for emplyees, I wanted to be the change, to be there to help managing that work/life balance.

I don't know where this journey will lead me, I don’t know if I’d make it, if I’d get to be the better version of myself, the better version of what i wanted to be when this thing first started but...

I’m on my way and the only thing I can say is, it’s never too late to change direction, to pursue another dream, to have a new vision of that future you want to build.

It’s never too late. You can always grow up.

#long post #personal story #self-empowerment #something like that? i guess

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thegoodomensdumpster · 5 years ago

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ABOUT SHADWELL AND TRACY

OK so. This is probably going to be the meta nobody asked for + the meta that has already existed for 30 years ( I read a bunch of it before the show came out, but I never found one tackling what I’m going to talk about, so chances are it exists but I missed it and now it’ll be impossible to find ). I’ve been wondering, a lot, how exactly the relationship between Tracy and Shadwell was narratively useful. (Especially Shadwell, what is up with Shadwell, really??? Why did he have to be ... the way he is???) Don’t get me wrong : I know perfectly well how nearly everything / everyone in Good Omens mirrors something / someone else. The Four Horsepersons / The Them obviously, a perfect mirror of humanity’s problems (self made be it for Death ) and how to fix them ( with hope, courage, love, and proper education for newest generations who are dealing with passed mistakes… )

And then all the duos echo each other and act as informations about every character . Crowley / Aziraphale Newt / Anathema Tracy / Shadwell So I had the nagging suspicion that Tracy and Shadwell would, perhaps, make more sense to me if I started comparing them to each other and to their counterparts.

After all, that’s how me (and dozens other meta writers) have managed to understand Newt and Anathema.

Newt is reasonable and rationnal, and he is also free and questionning. Anathema has lived a life devoided of surprises, all according to the Great Plan prophecies of a long dead ancestor she can not directly talk to.

Newt and Anathema get together because of the prophecies, but STAY together because they chose to, and Newt is the one to bring that choice to Anathema. Do I need to say which of them echoes Crowley and which of them echoes Aziraphale ? What about Shadwell and Tracy then ?

Welp. Let’s dissect them, shall we ?

Madame Tracy is, arguably, the most formidable character of the lot. OK, I may be a bit bias, I adore the woman. But with good reasons !

Deep down, she’s got one of the – if not the – strongest moral compass of the whole characters cast. She has confidence in her morals and ethics enough to trust a supernatural entity who just invaded her body( after being rightfully offended and scolding him a little ) AND to then go against said entity, an angel of the Lord, when he’s about to do something reprehensible.

Badass. But on the surface, what is she ? She’s a marginal, a prostitute, a con artist (something that I’m not entirely happy about as I find it morally reprehensible, but it is very likely she pretends to be a medium to be some sort of cheap psychiatrist to people who can’t afford it so… I’ll allow it. But anyway, it is also important that she’s not a parangon of pure unaltered virtue, so this makes sense). She is all the things Shadwell says she is, and in his mouth ( as well as in the eyes of society) they are insults. Worse : she exudes femininity, she is comfortable in her sexuality, she’s a businesswoman, she’s self-sufficent and financially independant (she’s even the one who gives money to Shadwell…). None of this is bad, but most of it is (or, hopefully, was) regarded as bad.

Ok, we got Tracy figured out. Let’s try to understand Shadwell now. Shadwell… Is also a marginal, in a way (he has been to prison, after all, if we include TV Omens canon). But he’s another kind of marginal.

He is not financially independant (again, see : asking money to Tracy, and also, scamming Crowley and Aziraphale for years, which is a way bigger and morally reprehensible con than whatever Tracy is doing with her fake medium act. But tbh, I’m so impressed he scammed not one, but two supernatural entities for funding the same useless organization, I can’t be mad at him. Not for that, I mean.) He isn’t nice, he isn’t polite, he … seems to be everything Tracy isn’t. And, as Tracy is a beacon of light and kindness, it makes sense Shadwell would be a rude blackhole of hatred. But, more than being a lightsucker, Shadwell’s opposition to Tracy makes sense if we shift the way we look at them. Tracy is what society deems morally reprehensible but she isn’t immoral, and more than that, she is very modern. Confident in herself. Taking her fate into her own hands. Turned towards the future.

Meanwhile, Shadwell is entirely turned towards the past, so much so that his traditionnalism is too much by present’s standards, and that is the bit that makes him the most marginal. He wears his sexism and his homophobia as badges of honor, and runs A WITCHFINDER ARMY. A very definitely outdated organization that has for goal : BURNING WITCHES. And gays, too, but mainly witches. This is an activity that was once considered ethical, necessary, ultimately good, but isn’t anymore. Heaven approved of the Witchfinders’ Army on these « morally good » premisses, and Hell approved of it on the cruelty and horror it was actually responsible for. Society has moved on. Shadwell hasn’t. At least in surface . Because, just like Madame Tracy’s activities as a prostitute and self-made woman can raise eyebrows but ultimately don’t define her as a moral person, Shadwell… hnnngh, this is more difficutl to say this about him, but when time comes for him to act on his rotten outdated thrown in our face moral principles, he is actually siding with Tracy. He protects her, he refuses to shoot Adam, he chooses to do what he finds to be morally good, and he and Tracy share the same morals.

(Also the one time Shadwell thinks he has killed someone he is genuinely shocked, so he is far from being a cold blooded killer. Only when he wants to protect Tracy or prevent Armageddon - and after Aziraphale has shown he isn’t really dead - does he threateningly raise his finger again. ) ((But homophobia and sexism aren’t a good look on him. Or on anyone else, for that matter. It’s not charming. Tracy, why were you charmed ???? WHY ???? ))

And we can only suppose that Tracy, beacon of light that she is, able to see the best even in the scum of the Earth, already knew that Shadwell and her agreed about what was ultimately important. They’ve had, possibly, years of interactions before the plot of GO kicks in, and maybe Shadwell hasn’t been so consistently horrible all this time and showed her a better side ? I hope ??? But, anyway, the thing is : these characters, Tracy and Shadwell, are made to mirror some of the best and worst things coming out of humanity. Tracy being kinda the worst possible carreer and personnal choice for religious bigots, and Shadwell being so deep into bigotry that it made him terrible even by bigots’ standards. Shadwell’s speech would have made him a hero a few centuries ago, now he’s just a lunatic. Tracy would have been burnt at the stake for her life choices. Now she’s… well, not in danger, at the very least, and besides Shadwell, all the GO characters seem to respect her. ( Or fear her, as is the case for Newt. ) ((I’m joking, I think he likes her, but confident people intimidate him.)) So. We’ve got Tracy who has built herself her own moral compass and is confident in the choices she made despite the hostility and difficulties she may have encountered, and Shadwell who lives according to a bunch of bigotted outdated rules he doesn’t actually believe in all that much. HA. Why does that ring a bell, I wonder… For the sake of not letting any ounce of ambiguity floating in the air, I’m going to spell it out :

Shadwell and the Witchfinders’ rules echo Anathema and her prophecies, and Aziraphale and Heaven’s indoctrination. Meanwhile, Tracy echoes Newt and Crowley for their marginality and self-made moral code (ok it’s less obvious for Newt especially if you haven’t read the book but he is the kind to question stuff constantly, to the point he hesitates a lot and has troubles finding his place in the world, but his – tiny - character arc is that he becomes able to question correctly and make decisions and help others make decisions).

The interesting thing is, in a way, Shadwell embodies the worst surface aspect of being a bigot blindly obeying outdated rules, while Tracy is the best possible outcome of a marginal making a life for themself. Newt and Anathema place somewhere in the middle, Anathema being able to let go of the thing that was ruling her life, and Newt is in the process of learning who he is, getting comfortable with that person and finding a place for himself in the world.

As for Crowley and Aziraphale, their long lives has thrown them in morally grey areas for a looong time, but at the end of GO, once freed from Heaven and Hell -but especially Heaven as Aziraphale has the most work to do to also get rid off his endoctrination completely- they are free to join Tracy, Shadwell, Newt and Anathema into finally becoming the most blooming versions of themselves. It is not too late, no matter how dark or how far back they’re coming from.

But !!! I am not entirely done.

The sword. And the gun. Both weapon given - more or less – to humanity by Aziraphale. The flaming sword, given at the very beginning to Adam and Eve hoping they’d use it to protect themselves, and that ends up in the hands of War. The thundergun, not given but required by Aziraphale to be put to use, right as the Armageddon is about to put an end to humanity, and to be used, this time, to kill someone. And, as I mentionned, both Shadwell and Tracy refuse to shoot.

Aziraphale cannot make humanity obey him, now can he ? Because that’s what it is, ultimately. Humanity. And, as always, free will. Because Tracy and Shadwell represent certain extremes and a lot of grey areas of humanity’s morals and diversity of personnalities, they are -almost- perfect ambassadors of humanity as a whole. Good and Evil bear no meaning around them, they refuse to fit neatly into any category, especially when scrutinized through the lenses of different places and eras as ethics shift constantely. Shadwell shows that even garbage trash men can show empathy, Tracy is the most merciful and kind person, which doesn’t prevent her from being surprisingly strong and adamant when needed. Shadwell and Tracy are part of each other’s life, against all odds, and even if it might have been just because they were neighbours at first, they ultimately chose to remain together. All duos chose to stick to their counterpart in the end. All of them represent the many contradictions of humanity, and how love is the ultimate way to live along together. And they use their free will for love. And while I would not, ever, EVER want to interact with a Shadwell IRL, I now see why it was important to make him the way he is depicted. From a narrative point of view, it was important to make him seemingly irreedemable, only for the one character he harrasses the most to trust and love him, because Tracy knows he, actually, isn’t as bad as it may seem. Because people who might seem horrible are not necessarily the ones who are. Because even Shadwell can love and be loved. And because everybody can improve.

Now, I do not know why the sexism and the homophobia had to be the main choices to convey how much of a bigotted idiot Shadwell was (No, I mean, I think I know why: probably because killing witches and gays were the Witchfinders’ Army main goals, but still, it’s tough on modern audiences - whether this should be taken into account by authors is... quite a debate to have, and maybe the main reason it bothers me? idk idk, I’ve already thought too much at this point). Because despite the fact that some of his lines and his excellent actor made him nice to see on screen (or read in the book for that matter), I have a very hard time liking his character. But that might be the point. I don’t know. Only Tracy can love him. But at least now, it makes more sense to me.

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extemporaneousmusings · 4 years ago

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2020 reflections below

To be honest, 2020 has been the best year I’ve had since 2016. Obviously on a global scale it has been absolutely devastating, and there are aspects of my life that were significantly impacted by the pandemic—I had to leave Greece suddenly in March, several months earlier than anticipated, and in doing so lost some crucial time that I was supposed to have spent with the physical materials of my dissertation—but on a personal level this year has been the most stable and comfortable I’ve been since my accident in 2017. I was not dealing with a massive physical or mental health crisis, or the immediate aftermaths of either of those things, and that is something I do not take lightly.

I spent the first 3 months of the year hiking across Greece, basically. It was really tough—I was pretty depressed, although my meds had just been boosted so I was feeling better than I had in fall of 2019, and obviously missing Ian and Macy was not an easy thing to sit with—but I did it! I had literally planned my entire life for the past 5 years around this time in Greece, and even though we didn’t completely finish the program and the scheduled trips, I still accomplished what I set out to do: I was able to do the hikes and got to explore the country that I love. After my accident, my sole goal was to be able to get my ankle to a place where I could do the program. It was really fucking hard, and there’s still so much more work I can do on my ankle (which is a source of deep resentment for me, something I’m working on) but at the end of the day, I got myself to a place where I could, with some difficulty, do this really physically strenuous thing that had been such a major goal of mine for years. I got to travel the Greek countryside and see hundreds of archaeological sites in a way that is basically impossible unless you’re doing it with the American School. Mentally I was not as present as I would have liked to be, which is something I think I’ll always regret, but I gave it all I had, mentally and physically. Even if I am hazy on a lot of the details, I’ll remember the exultant physical sensations of reaching a peak and taking in the view below, the sweet succulent taste of oranges in the height of their season, plucked straight off the tree, searching every museum for my pots, pushing myself physically to the limit every day but still being able to wake up and do it again the next, trying regional cuisine from across the country, and the camaraderie that all of us built together on that bus and on those hikes. And of course, the saving grace and defining point of the school year for me was spending time with Ev. He already was one of my best friends, so the opportunity to go on this adventure together was so exciting, but he really kept me sane, made me laugh with his stupid fucking jokes, stayed in the back of the pack with me when I was having especially bad ankle days, and our companionship brought me so much joy and support. It’s very likely that we’ll never live in the same place together again, and I will always cherish the time we had together this past year.

My life since returning to Cincy in March has been very stable and consistent. Except for having to TA on campus on Friday’s during the fall, we’ve both just been at home. E’s been out of a job the whole time, but we are very lucky that (bc Cincy is so affordable) just my grad student salary has been able to financially support us. Money is tight, all my savings are gone after Macy’s surgery in July, but we are very lucky to have support systems to rely upon should we need to (fingers crossed we won’t), and that for now, just my income alone can pay all of the bills so that Ian does not have to be on the front lines at the bar, physically interacting with everyone who is still comfortable and selfish enough to be out partying during a global pandemic.

The biggest joy for me of this year was getting to spend 8 beautiful months with Macy. We had her for 3 months before I left for Greece last September, but I feel so blessed to have had more time with the three of us as a family this year, and to spend so much uninterrupted time with her because we were just in the apartment all of the time. I’ve written what seems like a lot about losing her, so I’m not really going to dwell on it, but despite her death I am still so happy to have had the time with her that I did, and to have loved and been so loved in return. I’m hopeful that I can build a relationship with Lulu like I had with Macy, and that as she settles in and settles down, and becomes secure in this new home, that our new family of three can thrive. Another element to this is the fact that basically our only physical socialization with friends came from going on dog walks, mainly with S&D. Since March we’ve seen them almost weekly and it’s been such a good routine and way to see them safely. We’ll all be getting more of a workout with Lulu, though. She’s much more intense about walks than Macy was.

When I first got back from Greece, I needed to just luxuriate in being home, and shortly after that I fell into the hockey rabbit hole. Which has been lovely, truly! I had been feeling a bit stagnant fandom wise, and it was so nice to have a whole new world opened to me, and to see a bunch of my mutuals all going through the process simultaneously was so fun. I still haven’t written anything, and I’m definitely not as involved as a lot of people, but I’ve never been someone who is super funny in quippy posts or makes a lot of connections quickly. But I’ve really been enjoying it, and I’m hoping that in 2021 I’ll be able to post some fic and make some more friends. My ephemeral relationships with people on tumblr have been important to me for many years, but I definitely have appreciated it the most this past year. Tumblr is a really big part of my life, and I love interacting with people/when people interact with my personal posts. It’s nice to have found a little pocket of the internet where I am safe and comfortable and around people I genuinely like.

Getting into hockey did divert my attention from my mental health, and the ways it was impacting my work, for a solid two months, though. I very much used it as a crutch to avoid some bigger issues that needed my focus, which I was diverting to think about big men fucking each other. In August I started seeing a therapist again. We had worked together briefly after my manic episode, because my old therapist had gotten a new job so she took me on for like a month before I left for Greece, and working with her again has been so helpful. I am so fortunate to have healthcare through grad school that makes going to therapy extremely affordable. It’s seriously been a saving grace for me. By working on my mental health consistently I have brought myself to a better, more stable and comfortable place than I’ve been in in years, and I feel empowered to continue on this path to keep accumulating skills and mental fortitude to help me in the future.

As a result of my consistent work on my mental heath, I’ve also been able to develop a much better, healthier relationship with work/my research more specifically. This summer I was in a place where I felt like it was impossible for me to write my proposal, let alone an actual dissertation, but I did write my proposal! And I’ve been building up routines and stamina and now feel like I actually can get this PhD. Which is great. I know it’s not going to be easy, and that I have a lot of difficulty ahead of me still, but I feel very confident in my ideas, and I am so much better equipped to handle things than before.

So yeah, I think that’s pretty much it. For 2021, I want to just keep going in the path that I’ve been forging for myself. The next things I’ll be focusing on are more intentionally working with my ankle, to try and alleviate the somewhat antagonistic relationship I have with it, and to feel more physically capable. I think that re-integrating yoga into my life will be big here, it’s been really helpful for me before, but I’ve let it slip, and then we’ll see what else I can do to help with this. I also want to continue to reinforce a work routine that suits me and maintain/adjust it when I (almost certainly) make the move back to Athens in September. And finally, I really want to post some TK/Patty fic! I have some ideas, some word docs, some (imo) well-selected lyrics for titles, and I just need to dig in a little more and try and unclench my mental knot of perfectionism, as I’ve been learning to ease it with regards to work stuff.

#personal #I think this is actually the first end of year reflections post I've made on here #in the like 9 years I've had this blog #much to reflect on this year��I guess

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rambles-fairy · 4 years ago

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I have cracked. After watching all the hilarious YouTube commentaries, I have decided to watch After. It is on, as background noise while I try to write. I will come back up to the top here to give movie updates as I go.

After Commentary

The first move update is that the main girl’s boyfriend just gave her (Tessa) the most awkward sway hug, where they rocked side to side like toddlers. Nice.

Oh. Wow. The acting of the English dude is top notch. And the English accent is awful, even though I think he might actually be English – like they made him do an Extra Special accent for the film. Tessa’s acting isn’t too bad.

Okay Tessa’s boyfriend is a holier than thou killjoy – he tells her off for partying. At uni. Partying… which is what people do at uni. And they are in a long term relationship but have never had sex, which seems unusual for 18 year olds who are serious enough to do long distance?

The girl who plays Tessa is hella pretty.

The dude playing the love interest seems slightly dead eyed all the time. He is meant to be looking intense I think, but he just looks like an android.

Tessa and the boyfriend (not the love interest lol!) has all the charisma and allure of a bag of dry, unflavoured quinoa.

Tessa’s controlling harpy mother is ghastly and has cut her off financially, for breaking up with her awful boyfriend and sleeping with the new love interest. I mean, how weird is that? I think a boy might ruin your life so I will try to ruin it first?

Oh no, they are now at the wedding of the love interest’s dad, who seems to be a low key asshole and I can feel the tension building. I feel the fear! I am, however, unexpectedly enjoying this film more than I thought I would given how badly panned it was.

Aw I liked that more than I expected to, and I was sad at the end that it went so wrong.

Journal Notes

I have a lot of jumbled thoughts and worries so lets just brain dump for now and then I can spend the next three weeks writing things which are, perhaps, a slightly more coherent story.

The first thing is that I feel oddly lonely. And maybe that is because I am back in Tier 4 lockdown? Even though I sort of already was, since I wasn’t going anywhere except the supermarket for food. But maybe it is a mental thing? I go through the social anxiety cycle where I will text people a lot and then I don’t get many replies and I am sure that it is because people have lives – I can be horrible at replying, but then I feel awkward and ashamed of being me. The second reason is that I miss M. I had my end of year review and I found out that he nominated me for employee of the year, and the feedback was super kind and nice (said my boss) and I listened to it all, pretending she was talking about someone else, and looking happy. Inside I felt like an ice block had been dropped into my chest. After the call I sort of sat and missed him, quietly, for a long while.

So yeah, I feel lonely.

The second thing is that I was on a call. I was talking about something I usually know a lot about but I ended up getting something wrong – on the call I said that something wasn’t the case, when it was, and I disagreed with the person who actually was saying the right thing. I hate making mistakes, and with my current social anxiety issues, itupset me a lot. I wasn’t rude, I wasn’t even “I am right” – I was more confused and saying “this isn’t normally the case, I don’t think it is x” and after I researched it and found I was wrong, I contacted the person to apologise for my mistake and confirm that she was correct, not me. But still, it is really bothering me, and I feel really stupid and bad at my job and just like an idiot generally. I keep getting flash backs to the call, and being like “I have never heard of that being the case” and the other people assuming I was right, not the other person, when I was talking bollocks.

Kill me.

And I still miss almost everyone I have ever had feelings for in the past 5 years, on some level. Not just M – although him the most due partly because of proximity of time and also because he seemed to adore me and I enjoyed messing around with him way more than I have with other people recently. And not recently too, since I am hardly the hookup Queen.

I was doing okay until recently but I feel a bit of a mess right now. Which is usually when I write. I also want to write more about the good things, like the things I learn or read about.

Like being on the sky news Instagram page and reading people’s comments on lockdown. People have such strange views – a lot of people were saying that they thought lockdown was an infringement on their rights – like not being allowed to get wasted at the pub is a tyrannical decision and it would be better to allow total freedom, regardless how many people die in the process. I am not very pro-anarchy apparently. I think that people should try and help other people, and live in consideration of the people around them. I mean, not to the point where you lose yourself – you are important too, but so are other people.

I feel so full of self-doubt. I miss the feeling I had when I was at uni and I never really felt that. I miss learning. I feel so useless at the moment. And like I will never be anyone’s favourite person. All in all I feel a bit lost again. I have felt lost for most of my life.

I miss the way M used to say he always wanted to look after me, forever. At the time I said that he couldn’t say that to me because it might not end up being true. And I was right, to be fair – I still think he was still properly married – but I miss that feeling, that no matter what, someone loves you and you love them and you feel less alone.

But then being lonely, for me, is about not feeling connected to something – not just humans and love – it is when I feel cut off from the universe more generally. Like I am not connecting to my life purpose in some strange way.

One good thing about being an adult, is always being able to have a box of lindor in the fridge. Ten out of ten, would recommend. The coconut ones are so good. And all the rest to be fair!! I really love strawberries and white chocolate too. Beaut. Keeping them in the fridge means that they are really sort of crunchy, which I love.

I think writing has helped a bit. I am human and even though I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin in shame and awkwardness and feeling like everyone must hate me. I feel that way a lot, like everyone around me thinks I am an idiot. I feel like I have real difficulties connecting to people, and I always have this dark need to connect with someone completely – to become part of them, and for them to become part of me, like a single being. I guess that isn’t healthy, but when I fall in love with someone it is all encompassing and I adore them. This is not the first time I have said this, but I should probably learn to love myself better.

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enlightened-leader-success-vault · 4 years ago

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Relationships - How our relationship with ourselves impacts on our relationships with others

The relationship we have with ourselves is based on a number of things, our genetic make up and hormonal and chemical balance – (nature), how we are bought up – (nurture) and on our interpretation of all our experiences both positive and negative, throughout our lives.

Every experience we have is filtered through our senses and through the set of principles by which we measure any experience. Let me give you some examples.

You are in a park. It is a beautiful day. A large hairy dog comes galloping up to you, tongue lolling out. Do you think “What a great dog, isn’t it friendly?” or “Oh no, that great brute is coming for me, look at its huge mouth …!”

You are in the same park sitting on a bench enjoying the sunshine. A stranger comes and sits next to you on the bench. They say “Hello” and try to start up a general conversation. Do you think “Friendly person” and make general conversation with them or think “What do they want? Must move away as I feel threatened”.

Neither response is better or worse than the other but how you respond to outside experiences with make a huge difference to what you expect out of life, the way you live and enjoy your life and the sort of relationships you create with others.

It is important to understand that you can radically change the relationship you have with yourself if you choose to do so. Patterns of belief which have run the way in which we behave can be changed quite radically. It is actually a matter of conscious choice. We can create our dream life or live a nightmare existence or anywhere between the two.

To exercise choice you need to be very clear about what you believe and the impact that has on the way you behave. To do that you need to audit the status quo honestly and to decide which parts are serving your needs well.

Once you identify the things which are working well you can protect them and use them as a model for other positive beliefs and behaviors.

Once you identify those old beliefs and patterns of behaviour which do not serve your best interests you can face them, deal with them and create more positive and productive beliefs and behaviours in their place. You may think that the process sounds simplistic and unlikely but I guarantee that it can be done by anyone who has a real desire to improve their life and their relationships. You may find it easier to have the support of a life coach to help you navigate through any stormy waters.

The relationship you have with yourself has a huge impact on your relationship with others.

Any partnership is really a combination of three relationships. The first two being relationship which each individual has with themselves. The third is the relationship the two people have with one another. Whilst I am going to focus on personal relationships the principles hold true for us in a professional context too.

At its best, a truly loving, interdependent relationship makes us more than we would be as separate independent people. It is based on the principles of win-win. Both parties have a commitment to look for the best way for both parties – they will look for solutions which facilitate growth and trust. The relationships are built on mutual trust and respect and communication is open and ongoing.

At its worst a relationship can be destructive, where power and control play a major part and where there are always winners and losers. Partners constantly strive to get their own way and see giving in as a sign if weakness and defeat. Communication is often sparse or built on misunderstanding. People use the same words but mean entirely different things.

For many people their relationship exists somewhere in the middle ground. There are times when it is great, but that at other times tensions surface and difficulties are experienced usually around particular themes.

Common ones are money, the way one partner treats and values the other, life style and health, work life balance, trust and fidelity (perceived or otherwise). This list is not definitive and often couples have issues around multiple themes which are interrelated.

An example would be concern about work life balance and health. Partner A feels that they spend too much time alone because partner B spends too much time at the office. They feel neglected and unloved. At the same time they are worried about how stressed their partner is and the fact that they drink too much and are carrying too much weight.

If you want to truly understand the relationship with your partner and understand how to make it work even better, you need first to understand the relationship you have with yourself and then need to be open to understanding the relationship your partner has with themselves.

SELF AUDIT

So what sort of relationship do you have with yourself? Think carefully about the following questions. Be as honest as you can. There is no right or wrong answer. The questions are designed to help you understand yourself and your approach to life even better than you do at present.

How do you introduce yourself when you meet someone new at work?

How would you introduce yourself if you were at a party?

Do you still introduce yourself as what you do?

“I’m a financial advisor” or “I work in insurance”

How would you introduce yourself if you were not able to use what you did professionally as part of your description?

Do you find that more difficult?

When you look in the mirror when no one else is about. Who do you see? What sort of person are you? Think about how you would describe yourself to others?

You could start with describing the values you live by: I’m kind, I'm hardworking

I have a strong sense of integrity etc.

What are your unique abilities?

What are you good at?

What do you enjoy doing?

How would you describe yourself physically?

How do you feel about yourself?

Do you like yourself as you are?

How highly do you value yourself?

Do you esteem yourself?

What gives you your sense of worth?

Is just being you - enough?

Do you rely on the opinion of others or on what you can do for others to give you a sense of who you are?

When do you feel the best about yourself? Do you ever feel great about yourself?

Take some time out to think about the times you have felt really good about yourself during your life to date. Are there any common patterns?

Consider the following statements and decide if they are:

Always true? Sometimes true? Never true?

I feel best about myself when I’m at work

I feel best about myself when I’m in social situations

I feel best about myself when I’m in private situations at home

I feel best about myself when I have drunk alcohol

I feel best about myself when I feel I’m in control of the situation

I feel best about myself when I feel I am needed

I feel best about myself when I am doing something for other people

I feel best about myself when I am winning

I feel best about myself when other people notice what I am doing and say well done

I feel best about myself when other people notice what I am doing and say thank you

I only believe I am doing a good job if other people notice and tell me

I always feel physically attractive and good about my body

I believe in myself at all times – I don’t need others to tell me I’m doing well

I believe in myself in the work place – I don’t need others to tell me I’m doing well

I believe in myself socially – I don’t need others to tell me I’m doing well

I believe in myself within my special relationship – I don’t need my partner to reassure me all the time

I’d really like to have a special relationship but I’m not attractive / good enough

The way in which we see ourselves may be very different to the way others see us. We may feel very confident and know our worth in one situation yet feel incredibly inadequate and of little worth in another.

If our sense of self worth is generated more by external verification than by an internal sense of self worth then there is a constant need to be recognized, praised and thanked. When this is achieved it feeds the need for more recognition because it gives us pleasure. When it is not forthcoming it creates a sense of failure and lack of self – esteem which is potentially destructive.

Like all things we need a balance between the extremes. If you are entirely self absorbed and consider yourself perfect in every way it is highly unlikely that you will be the perfect partner, employee or boss. It offers no scope for self improvement or personal growth.

Creating a strong sense of self worth and confidence with a desire to be even better is the ideal. Determining our strengths, learning to love ourselves for who we are – wobbly bits included as a fantastic starting point to creating a wonderful life. If you feel your sense of worth could do with an overhaul – a rebalance, you may find working with a life coach helpful as there are lots of approaches which are tried and tested and could save you much time and effort.

#enlightenedleadership empowerment spiritualmatriarch spiritualpatriarch neweraofenlightenment

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onestowatch · 4 years ago

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Boy Willows Drops Dreamy Music Video for "Fila" [Q&A]

Boy Willows, aka Landon Fleischman, makes music that offers a deep amalgamation of incandescent alt-pop, jubilant jazz, and psychedelic-tinged folk. Impeccably paired with sensory lyricism and passionate vocals, he delivers a hypnotic and singular resonance.

The LA-via-Maryland artist recently shared his new single "Fila" with Dylan Minnette of Wallows. On "Fila," Boy Willows stretches out to embrace relatable themes of vulnerability and healing both inwardly and outwardly without feeling overbearingly serious. "Fila" serves as a therapy session between two friends as they cope with being alone in different ways. Nestled in a warm and gentle soundscape, the sonic components are woven with nostalgia, charm, and a bit of whimsy. We caught up with Willows for a quick Q&A about the track and the equally nostalgic and whimsical music video directed by Boy Willows, shot by Seannie Bryan (Madeline Kenney, Skullcrusher) and edited by Jordan Pories.

Ones to Watch: This song, although short and sweet, seems to have a lot of complexity to it. It sounds like throughout the single, the main characters are grappling with feelings of loneliness and figuring out how to cope. What is this song about to you, and how did this song come to be?

Boy Willows: I think both verses deal with the thoughts that bubble up when you feel useless, small, or alone, but what I love about the song is there's a twinge of hope. My goal with Fila was to spur myself into believing that I could create my own reality of acceptance and momentum. I had been feeling isolated a while before the pandemic hit - on the perimeter looking in on other people's social circles or relationships or success. My hope was that by acknowledging these truths in a song, I could start to take up my own space, make my own club of acceptance per se.

What was the creative process like for the single? What made you want to go for this very ethereal sound, and were you inspired by anything in particular?

I worked on this super grand, minute-long glitchy harmony thing and pitched it down an octave (oooo). It was so soothing and slow and big, I started producing around it, and I felt like I was in a dream where I could say anything I wanted, no matter how heavy or light.

What are your thoughts on girls that wear Fila?

Haha, in short, they're cool. This song is truly a peek into all the thoughts that were swirling around my brain, making me feel alone - and one of those thoughts was about aging. I wish this wasn't the truth, but I was feeling fear about getting older. I wrote that line about Filas and didn't think much of it or even really understand why I wrote it until a couple nights ago. It's definitely a light-hearted observation about youth culture, but I think I wanted to poke fun at it cuz I felt like I wasn't a part of it for the first time - and that frightened me. It's insane that even that line was born out of the fear of being left out, but I'm pretty sure that's the true true.

I loved not only the sonic atmosphere you created, but also the story of you told through the lyrics. Do you have a favorite verse from this track or one that speaks to you? What is your approach when it comes to songwriting?

I just love how much the endings of each verse stick out - "I just feel like I don't deserve this life." It's a line you could interpret so many different ways, and each way would be true. When I'm working on a song, it starts with the music. I picture where it takes me, how fast I'm moving, if I feel cool or angry or defeated, and if I'm lucky, a phrase will fall out of my mouth that feels true, even if it doesn't make sense at first.

I think the music video does a great job of visualizing the lightheartedness of "Fila." What was the creative process like, and what was it like working with your team on the video?

There's this fucking incredible animated video called Satiemania from 1978 made by this Croatian animator, Zdenko Gašparović. In it, there's a delectable section where it's just different shoes walking in an impossibly groovy way. I wanted that tone of animation mixed with the camaraderie and fuckit-energy of The Pharcyde's "Drop" music video. I brought those ideas to my genius creative friend/ shaman, Jordan Pories, and we got to work, exploring the world of the song, trying to amplify and showcase everything in a dreamy, slow way. Seannie Bryan is a recent friend of mine and a killer DP. She captured the dreamy light perfectly. We rolled up to the spot at 6am. It was 90 degrees, and we knocked it out in an hour and a half, only stopping once because I was going to throw up from spinning.

Dylan Minette's voice perfectly compliments the laid back yet introspective vibe of the song, and it looked like y'all had a lot of fun doing the music video. What was working with him like, and how did he get involved with this single?

He and I go way back. We used to be in rival boy scout gangs. No, I do lighting for Wallows, and we met through that. One day on the tour bus, I was showing him some new tunes, one of which was "Fila." It was 35 seconds, and he said it needed to be longer, so I said, "hop on in." He added his verse, and we were OFF TO THE RACES. He's got a really strong creative compass and just knows what he likes. We finished the song in a couple days - fucking painless, dare I say, very enjoyable bordering on a lot of fun.

Tell me about Desert Mike. I feel like although rattlesnakes do deserve some love and I agree that the war between them and human beings is senseless, I'm not exactly in a rush to give them a pat on the head...Ok, but for real, tell me about this clip at the end. Is it an easter egg for a future single? In your last single, "i love it when you talk," you intercut the clips of you with film footage from the 80s and 90s. Is Desert Mike a Boy Willows creation or a relic from the past?

SHEESH, am I paying you?? because if not, then I SHOULD. The Boy Willows canon is a long, meandering labyrinth of characters that doesn't conform to traditional standards of "time" or "being funny" or "good. Desert Mike exists in all Boy Willows worlds, though, this much I can say. In the ILIWYT video, Desert Mike easily could have made a feature, and now I want to know who you've been talking to...your ability to connect the dots is...suspicious.

Has the pandemic effected you or inspired you as an artist? If so, how?

Really hot take comin at ya, I think the pandemic is not good. Bad even! I lost my job, so financially, I've been very inspired to survive haha. This isn't the sexiest answer, but the truth for me is, I put everything into my music but am also looking for a job - sometimes balancing those two things is really fucking hard. Instead of feeling inspired to write about my difficulties, I just want to solve them. So I'm really looking forward to landing a part-time gig as a call representative for Spirit Airlines, so I can get back to making my music.

Once the world comes to a state of a new normal, what's the first thing you want to do?

I'd love to travel somewhere new with my friends. A friend of mine is living in New Zealand working on an alpaca farm. You bet your ass I'm flying there at the first chance.

Alternate fun idea: Get a table at a restaurant, deep in the back, as far inside as possible. Order one appetizer every 30 minutes and stay there for a minimum of nine hours, just being so loungey and just snacking hard, mozzarella sticks flying every which way, napping in marinara sauce.

When shows and concerts are back, who do you want to see, and who do you want to tour or play with?

When touring comes back, I would LOVE to tour with Jadu Heart, Far Caspian, Sure Sure, to name a few. I just want to crowd surf for a month straight honestly. Give a ton of sweaty hugs. I want to see Toro y Moi, Thumpasaurus, Squirrel Flower.

Who have you been listening to throughout the pandemic? Are there any Ones To Watch?

A lot of Tribe Called Quest for long drives. I'll put "Check The Rhime" on repeat. I just discovered this dude named Shuttle his song "Boy" is fucking groooovy. I'm an OG KT Tunstall stan too - I've been bumping her 2013 album "Invisible Empire" like a mad man. Kevin Morby for the campy vibes, Rufus for the stank, Lomelda for the love, Van Morrison because if I get married, my first dance will be to "Crazy Love," and I like to daydream about that when I drive. Last but most important, The Prince of Egypt soundtrack.

Oh also, I've been listening to a lot of Anna Burch, Far Caspian, Bea1991, a compilation of geese wearing hats, Mei, Shuttle and this new artist you HAVE to listen to - he's a little out there but give him a try, Drake.

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#Boy Willows #Fila #Dylan Minette

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galoots · 5 years ago

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Caught in a life-threatening escapade, drugged, and facing a possible deranged foe, Scrooge does what anyone else would in this situation: Talk about how much he loves his nephew, duh.

The day had been a day like any other: Scrooge and Donald at the Money Bin, going about their daily business. Donald had been filing taxes for his uncle like he had promised prior. The task was fairly mundane, lulling Donald into a meditative trance. His focus had been so absorbed, in fact, that he failed to notice that the nigh constant hum of Scrooge’s security system had ceased. The eerie quiet was broken by the dull, heavy sound of a solid object striking a surface. Fearing the worst, Donald burst into his uncle’s office to find Scrooge face-down on his desk. For a brief, terrifying moment, Donald thought that his uncle had all of a sudden dropped dead. The panic that had gripped his heart in an icy clutch subsided when he saw the gentle rise and fall of Scrooge’s chest. Still breathing. Relieved but concerned, Donald moved closer to examine him. The last thing he could remember was the sight of a dart sticking out of his uncle’s neck when a brawny hand clamped over his beak. Briefly, he struggled wildly against that hand until he felt the sharp prick of a needle in his flesh. Everything after that was blank.

When Donald finally came to, he was bound to a pillar by thick, hemp rope around his wrists. He took stock of his situation. In dire straits, one should only worry about the immediate circumstances one could control. Nothing else mattered. Everything else were details. He tested the strength of his bindings. Tight. Competent knots tied by a skilled hand. Not much he could do there. He was unhurt, but his movement was constrained. His feet, however, had been left free. He turned his attention to his surroundings. The room he was in was unadorned, sparse with no windows, cement floors, and stucco walls. A warehouse perhaps?

A steel operating table, bolted to the floor, with a prone figure upon it. A second look revealed the figure being held in place by leather restraints. Closer examination revealed this figure to be his Uncle Scrooge, awake and similarly confused.

They’d clearly been abducted by one of the old man’s enemies. Not flashy enough for Rockerduck, too cruel for Glomgold. The criminal quality of the situation spoke to the Beagle boys, but they were far too bumbling to pull off such a flawless ambush. Magica? Seemed unlikely, witchery and deceit were her calling cards, but she’d been known to hire third-parties in the past.

The door to the room opened and in walked a man carrying a vintage-styled medical bag. He was tall and stocky, nondescript looking but threatening all the same. Placing his bag upon the ground, he clapped his hands together once and rubbed them together eagerly. “Good afternoon, gentleman.”

Oh good, Donald thought, a monologuer. He despised a villain who like to monologue.

Regardless of his disdain, the man continued his well-rehearsed introduction. “You do not know me yet, but I intimately know you. I am Dr. Hogel. You are in quite the predicament gentlemen, as I am sure you are aware, but give me your full cooperation and I assure you your time spent here will not be overly unpleasant.”

The harsh, clinical light shining down from the fixtures above cast a sinister shadow over the self-proclaimed Doctor Hogel. Opening his satchel, Dr. Hogel extracted a vial of clear liquid and a hypodermic needle. He filled the syringe, plunging the needle into the bottle, and removing it after he’d double-checked the dosage. The needle, held high, glinted sickeningly in the light. With a practiced flick, Dr. Hogel dispelled any air bubbles possibly within.

Scrooge, bound and gagged on the table, felt a cold trickle of fear spread through him. He could hear Donald, in the corner of the room, straining against his ropes, attempting to break free and save him.

“Do you know what Sodium Pentathol is?” Dr. Hogel asked, before reciting didactically. “Medically speaking, it’s a rapid-onset short-acting barbiturate, often used for anesthetic purposes. By those more inclined to fanciful worldviews, it’s often referred to as truth serum.” The doctor swabbed Scrooge’s arm, readying the needle for insertion. “Of course, there is no such thing as a drug that can force one to tell the truth. Such things belong solely to the realm of spy novels and other dime store pulp.” The doctor carefully emptied the contents of the syringe into Scrooge’s vein. “However, the drug has been found to make a subject of interrogation more… loquacious. Lowers his guard. Boosts his willingness to comply.” The doctor strolled over to his bag, pulling a thick towel from it to wrap the used needle in. He placed it to the side, turning back to Scrooge, leaving the black bag hanging open.

Craning his neck, Donald could see a host of other tools within. The bag’s handle faced towards him and while his hands were tied, his feet were not. He wasn’t exactly overly dexterous with his feet, but with some effort, he could manage to grab the handle and spill the bag’s contents. There had to be something useful within to enable his escape. A scalpel to cut his ropes, a communication device to call for help, anything at all. His course of action was clear. This Dr. Hogel was methodical, but not methodical enough.

The doctor examined Scrooge’s muscles untense, his eyelids droop, and his respiration slow to a relaxed rhythm. He began to loosen the restraints holding Scrooge and removed his gag. “I see no reason for you to suffer any discomfort during this little chat of ours. And I doubt you’ll be in a sporting mood to put up a fight after the dose I gave you.” Scrooge’s head lolled on his shoulders as he was released.

“Let’s begin the interrogation, shall we?” The doctor smiled a wolfish, predatory grin. “Mr. McDuck, I’d like you to tell me the location of your most precious possession.”

Scrooge smiled a hazy, lopsided grin before he answered in a voice thickly garbled by sedation. “He’s right over there!”

“He?” Dr. Hogel repeated incredulously.

��“Him.” Scrooge pointed limply to Donald in the corner, who hastily pulled back his extended leg.

The doctor turned to look at him. “Your nephew has your number one dime?”

“No, silly.” Scrooge laughed blithely. “He is my most precious possession.” His face looked dazed and loopy.

With the deadly speed of a guillotine’s blade, the doctor’s smile dropped into a scowl. Donald affected a sheepish grin in return, hoping to pacify the man. He couldn’t risk his head being chopped off.

Dr. Hogel’s affected charm had been dropped as soon as he met resistance. He’d been courteous to his guest, up front, forthright, even attentive to his comfort, yet it seemed Scrooge McDuck would rather obfuscate and play games. “I’m not talking about your witless, slow-minded nephew, Mr. McDuck. I am referring to the first dime you ever made.”

Scrooge stared at the doctor with a glazed expression.

“The foundational artifact of your financial empire?”

Not a smidgeon of recognition in the old codger’s expression.

“The single most important physical possession you own. The coin that made you the man you are today!” The doctor’s voice dropped to a threatening growl, clearly losing his patience with this noncompliance.

“Dimes?” Scrooge slurred, “I got loads of them. Stacked to the tippy-top of my Money Bin. Donald polishes them for me. Isn’t that sweet? Working for his old unkie-dunkie when he could be out there doing whatever he’d please. Such a good boy.”

“U-uncle Scrooge,” Donald warned in a hushed tone; he needed time to enact his plan, but the old man had to stay on topic enough not to make the Doctor blow his lid.

“Shut up.” The doctor pinned him with a furious glare, spinning back to his uncle to continue his line of questioning. “I’m not looking for just any dime, McDuck.” He gripped Scrooge’s face in a punishing vise. “Focus. Listen to me carefully. I need to know the exact whereabouts of your so-called lucky dime.”

Donald started to sweat nervously as he slowly extended his foot towards the bag. Scrooge’s drugged mind sluggishly processed the request. “I used to keep it on a velvet pillow in a special pedestal in the Money Bin.”

“Good.” The doctor relaxed his grip slightly. “’Used to’ meaning you moved it at some point. Where to?”

“Well one day, back when Donnie was still a babe, I let him wade through the Money Bin. I loved a daily dip so much, I thought, heck, why not let the boy experience his first swim. A formative experience! I love to dive in it like a dolphin, burrow through it like a gopher, and toss it up and let it hit me on the head!” Scrooge drawled with a dreamy air, trying to scratch his beak against his shoulder to relieve an itch.

Scrooge cleared his throat with difficulty. “’Course you can’t be that rough with an infant. So, I outfitted him in little floaties just in case and let him wade in like it were a kiddie pool. I suppose his McDuck genes kicked in because phew!” Scrooge whistled a descending tune, “he took off like a shot from my arms. Paddled right over to the pedestal.” He mimed a look of shocked panic, effecting the expression he’d warn during the event.

“I was immediately terrified, instant panic, because what if he drowned? Or hurt himself? You can get some nasty papercuts from the greenbacks. And a baby’s head! Bit like a mushy melon, you know? One solid knock from a diamond to that soft spot babies have… er, what are they called?”

“A fontanelle.” The doctor supplied, hoping it’d lead the rambling old man to his point.

“Yes, that’s right. A frontapelle.” Scrooge nodded with a sage manner, as if he’d known the answer all along. “Well one solid knock to his frapachelle, and I thought he’d be a goner! So, I’m rushing towards him, trying to coax him back into my arms, when WHAM!” Scrooge slammed a hand against the table. “The little dickens knocked over the pedestal! He waddled right over to the pillow with the dime and—you’ll never guess what he did next.”

Scrooge waited for his captive host wager his best guess. He smiled with eager expectation like he was a comedian about to drop a killer punchline rather than a hostage in a dangerous situation. The doctor’s knuckles were clenched tight, growing frustrated with McDuck’s rambling. “What.”

“He popped it into his mouth,” Scrooge clicked his tongue, “and swallowed it.”

A vein on the doctor’s forehead pulsed, looking fit to burst.

“Then. What.”

“Let’s see…” Scrooge narrowed his eyes as he tried to recall the details under the fog of medication. “I picked him up. He was giggling like nothing had happened. I was relieved at first to see him hale and hearty, then I was furious when I realized what he’d done. Ach! I couldn’t be made at the wee bonny thing for very long though. I took one look at those sweet baby blue eyes of his and the anger melted away. He was an infant after all, he didn’t know what he was doing. I certainly learned my lesson alright! Spending the next few days sifting through an infant’s diapers was no fun t’all, I assure you. After that… well, I moved it!”

The doctor took a measured break, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where to.”

Donald soaked with sweat, making it difficult to get a solid grasp on the doctor’s bag. His foot kept slipping off as he tried to grip the handle with his toes. He hoped his uncle’s drugged prattle would keep him occupied long enough for him to secure some handy little tool that’d allow him to break free.

“Where did I move it to? Let’s see.” Scrooge pondered the question for a moment. “I started keeping it on a chain around my neck. But—”

The doctor pulled the collar of Scrooge’s coat open with a sharp, hasty motion but found nothing underneath.

“Rude.” Scrooge huffed.

“Rude? I’m being rude?” The doctor was yelling now, inches away from Scrooge’s face. “Listen to me, you pathetic, pedantic old man. The witch did not contract me to listen to your blithering inane patter! I have a job to carry out, and I did not ensure a professional reputation of brutal efficiency by babysitting escapees from the old home. I do not care about how much you love your nephew, or the ‘darling’ little anecdotes you have about his childhood, or whatever other nonsense you’d care to spout. All I want to know is where do you keep your di—"

The doctor, wearing a look of utter confusion, reached up to his neck to pull the dart that had just struck him. He drunkenly swung around towards his other hostage who’d he had forgotten about in his agitation. The old man’s nephew was grinning back at him, the contents of his bag spilled out on the floor next to him, and the ballistic dart gun he’d used to initially abduct them underneath his foot. It had taken a good deal of fumbling for Donald to drag the device towards him and accurately aim it at the doctor. But once he did, all it took was a press of a button to fire a shot which Donald had done with his big toe. Dr. Hogel stumbled, then fell to the floor, unconscious, his head hitting the concrete with a nasty thwack upon impact. He cheered himself for saving the day, especially under duress and with less than ideal limitations.

Scrooge pulled out from his loosened restraints and slide off the operating table. “Pity,” he mumbled, “I was just getting to the good part.” Stumbling over the doctor’s prostrate body, wobbling to and fro, Scrooge made his unsteady way over to Donald.

Donald leaned against his bonds in anticipation of being freed. “Great job distracting him, Uncle Scrooge! You played the part of a doting old man perfectly. It was genius! Now untie me and let’s get out of here!”

Scrooge plopped down next to him. Donald waited for him to pull apart the ropes that bound him, but he felt no tug to set him free.

“Uncle Scrooge?”

Scrooge let loose a yawn. “I’m rather tired, sweetie… I think I’ll take a little nap first.”

“No, no, no!” Donald struggled against the ropes. “Uncle Scrooge, don’t go gentle into that good night, alright?”

Scrooge got down on all fours and crawled closer to Donald. He placed his head in Donald’s lap and, with a contented smack of his beak, nestled into a cozy position and promptly fell asleep. The drugs in the old boy’s system must have finally caught up with him for he was happily snoozing away in his nephew’s lap. The familiar feeling of embarrassment settled in Donald’s stomach as he belatedly realized that his uncle’s spiel hadn’t been the clever machination of a man accustomed to escaping harrowing situations, but the drugged prattle of a nostalgic old man. Which meant, everything he had said had been genuine, not part of some ruse. The anecdote, the compliments, his uncle’s adoration, even his misidentification of his nephew as his most precious object—all true. Donald blushed, feeling self-aware despite the fact he was the only one still conscious in this room.

He jostled Scrooge with his knees, trying to wake him up from his slumber, but the duck barely stirred. Before he’d wanted to escape from the dangerous and seemingly criminally insane man who’d trapped them. Now? Now he just wanted to run away before he had to face the utter mortification of being found like this. It wouldn’t take long for someone to realize they were missing or to locate their current position. He couldn’t bear having to tell the newspapers the tale of how they escaped, broadcasting Scrooge’s nostalgia to the entire city. He wiggled futilely against his bonds before slumping forward in defeat. In his mind, he could see the front page of the Duckburg Daily—a large photo, front and center, of Donald ducking his head, trying to hide his face while surrounded by rescue workers. All while a softly snoozing Scrooge cuddled up with him in his lap.

He’d never live it down. Surely, he’d have to skip town.

Christ, couldn’t this doctor have just killed him instead and saved him the embarrassment?

#teamuncleweek2019 #donald duck #scrooge mcduck #team uncle #teamuncleweek #disney ducks #duck comics #duckverse #ducktales

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haninabaninah · 4 years ago

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What Depression and Anxiety Is Like For Me

Up until now, only my close friends and family know about my mental illness. I rarely tell anyone, because to be honest, even I still have that stigma on myself. (Confession time: I always have second thoughts putting it in forms for job requirements, but I do end up putting it in anyway. I always put in the year 2017-2018 I "officially" had it. Well it seems like it’s “back.”)

***skip this part if you don't want my background story***

In 2017, I went to the psychiatrist (after on and off years of symptoms, I guess) and I was diagnosed with depression. I was given a prescription for half-dose of anti-depressants and sleeping pills. I felt better after quitting my job, moving back home, moving on from my past relationship, and being busy with activities I’ve always wanted to do (theater classes, music lessons, joining an Aquathlon, travelling). I went back to the doctor (finally with my mother), and said I was feeling better and had stopped drinking my medicine. I moved to Australia and struggled on my first months there. I was jobless, financially tight, and was undergoing spiritual studies & discipline where we were digging my problematic behavior and root issues. (It was a painful and difficult process but I learned a lot.) My stay in Australia has been generally encouraging after that, having a strong spiritual ministry, a great job/company, deeper and spurring friendships, but there were still mental health struggles here and there. I struggled a bit more during my last months there being jobless. Moving back to Philippines was a huge change - as explained in my other blog entry. And the pandemic issue and the lockdown has definitely triggered a more difficult situation for me.

***background part ends***

This is how it has been manifesting in me:

Confused thoughts - There is a lot of noise in my head. I always described it like the TV screen static noise showing the black and white pixels, or more accurately, chaotic squiggly lines.

Difficulty in focusing - In general, it’s actually difficult for me to focus on anything (for some reason, this is except when I’m working on formulas on Excel). I get distracted easily, I jump from topic to topic in my head. (Also, whenever I think of things, I feel like I have to instantly do something - like open a tab about it in my browser. Then I forget what I was actually supposed to do that time.) Writing this was very hard because I keep jumping points, I keep shifting to tabs to whatever comes up as a topic in my head, especially whenever I feel difficulty in doing the next task at hand.

Broken heart - It can be both a physical pain in the chest and an emotional feeling - often described as feeling burdened, or feeling like something is heavy. Sometimes it includes the feeling of wanting to cry to let go.

Desire to drown the noise by consumption - When I feel heartbroken or my mind is noisy, I tend to really want to drown it by watching things on Youtube/Netflix, scrolling on Facebook (or anything - with no goal), or even listening to music.

Avoidance - Naturally, I would avoid things that stress me out or things that make me feel guilty or anxious, even if they are things I actually need to face. I would avoid thinking about anything related to work, I would avoid watching the news about the pandemic, sometimes, I would even avoid spiritual help articles. Sometimes I would just go numb and stop caring about anything from reality.

Constant stress / nervousness - Some days, especially in this pandemic, I would feel like I am always on my toes/ always on high alert.

At one point in my life, anxiety manifested as difficulty in breathing, a constant pain and something “blocking” my chest. That time, I actually thought I had a lung problem, so I went to the doctor and he said it was probably anxiety. It went away after a few days.

When I was young, stress and crying would often lead me to hyperventilate - extreme difficulty in breathing, tingling, cold and frozen hands and feet, cold sweat, dizziness

At many points in my life, I felt like life was such a chore, and it’s such a burden to live. I would often wish I just disappeared suddenly. A lot of times I will say to myself “I want to die,” but I didn’t actually want to die, because I didn’t want to die faithless. I wanted to die happy - but it wasn’t happening.

Generally, my mental health has not affected my work ethic in corporate jobs. In the past, however, my corporate job has affected me. I would give and work hard, but I found that other areas of my life suffered instead. I have learned from my friends to not take my job personally - a job is just a job. I was lucky to work for a great company in Australia, with a great team, so despite all the pressure, we worked together and I barely had emotional struggles that were work-related.

Recently, I have been feeling easily triggered by random things into stress. I get a bad reaction when I hear about family business. I also got this sort of panic when our family business was in a difficult time, and whenever I heard my family talking about it, I would shut my ears from the topic.

I have always just tolerated all of these feelings, except when I break down and cry. It’s only recently that I have learned to actively share my feelings to other people and to face the issue head on - work on it, process and rationalize, seek counselling, etc. Even now, there are only really few people I am actually able to open up to about it.

#mental health

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futurestrong · 5 years ago

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Self Awareness and Self Love: ‘What about me?’

By Dr Kathryn Murray

Education specialist, Author, Public Speaker.

“What about me, it isn't fair I've had enough now I want my share Can't you see I wanna live But you just take more than you give”

The words of Australian singer Shannon Noll resonate with many of us. I remember thinking this when I found myself without a job, broke after having to sell my house, car and more. My life had turned upside down – I found myself in a desperate financial situation because I trusted someone! That trust meant I had to sell everything to pay off debt—and some of the debt wasn’t even mine! So, many, many times, I found the lyrics of this song running through my mind: “…it isn’t fair! I’ve had enough now I want my share!”

We humans commonly default to blaming difficult times on the actions of someone else. We believe that it’s all their fault. I wouldn’t be in this situation if it wasn’t for them! Then we begin to beat ourselves up over what could or should have been. The self-recrimination tape plays: I should have known better. I should never have trusted him. I’m smarter than this.

Does any of this sound familiar?

There seems to be a common pattern that I’ve noticed in myself and in the process that my friends have gone through when “stuff” happens. It’s almost like a grieving process on our journey to a happier time.

In my experience, it went something like this:

1. Disbelief, fear and confusion. The acknowledgement of the situation coupled with the feeling that this is all a nightmare that I will wake up from. Such mixed feeling or disbelief and realisation. I must have misunderstood! How could he have done that? What does this mean for me and my future? How can I support my kids when I can’t support myself? I’m such a failure.

2. Anger and betrayal. A few swear words may or may not have been said! That feeling of getting even came over me. I felt determined not to be beaten. In this stage, I tried to remind myself: I am strong and can deal with anything. I have the whole universe working with me. That helped a little but didn’t change the reality.

3. Hurt and tears. I struggled to understand how someone could make such a negative impact on my life when I’m a nice person, and I’d never treat someone like I was being treated. I tried to understand his reasoning for the decisions he made and tried to identify my own part in this. In some ways, I didn’t want to face this and went into denial. This can’t be happening to me!

4. Victim thoughts. This is where the Shannon Noll song came back on repeat: “It isn’t fair” along with the feelings of shame, foolishness, embarrassment, and disappointment for allowing this to happen. If I’m honest, there was probably a bit of self-destruction going on at this point. I couldn’t see that things would ever be better. I was always going to struggle, be poor, never trust anyone, and I never, ever wanted to date or have a partner again—ever! Poor me. It isn’t fair!

5. Blaming and shaming. Then I started to throw blame in his direction, allocating him as 90% responsible for where I was in life! I felt as though I’d been taken advantage of and control over my life had been taken from me. Now, I was at the tricky part of my journey. I had to recognise the victim behaviours and the blame mentality that was leading me to think, choose, and make decisions from weakness, not strength. I was living in a deficit mindset, focusing on all that I lacked.

Realisation of the implications of the situation. Reality and a sense of urgency set in as I watched my financial and emotional state get worse. I started to recognise the type of role model I was being for my children. Ok, get a grip. This is REAL! This is how things are now, so what am I going to do. I need to pick up what I can and move forward. Being angry isn’t helping to get back on my feet. I don’t want to be that angry, bitter, and twisted woman!

6. Knight in shining armour. Because I was in such a down state, I yearned for someone to save me, help me, fix things—it didn’t matter who. Maybe I’ll win some money… someone has to, right? Maybe a friend will sort out the legal issues for me. Subconsciously, I was thinking that if I just ignore this long enough then someone or something will happen and sort it out for me.

7. Self-empowerment. It seemed to take a very long time to get to this point, but it was actually only months to get to this realisation. Guess what - No one came to rescue me and nothing happened! I didn’t win any money, and all the problems were still there. This realisation created a shift inside me. No one is going to fix my life for me. Time to take back my power! Yes! Then came the turn around that made be grow and get better and better within myself. I became a powerhouse!

I’ve always been spiritual, very self reflective, and self-aware. I realised that I had all the tools within me to deal with this situation and deal with it for the best possible outcome for all concerned. I was reminded of the statistics that our actions are based on 10% of what happens and 90% of how we respond.

I chose to use my brain to work out a solution, even though I was very fearful of how to move forward. I was frozen with fear some days. I had to face some unpleasant tasks, deal with people I’d rather avoid, speak my truth, be assertive, navigate financial and legal issues, and more. None of it was easy or fun. It made me anxious and nervous.

Slowly, though, I began to see just how strong I was. My women friends became my cheerleaders and sounding boards. I began to go to business networking events and met some amazing people who had also dealt with difficulty and risen above it. I began to do more public speaking gigs with different audiences, customising the topics so the messages related to them.

I began to see ME! I realised that I quite liked ME!

While dealing with a rollercoaster of emotions during the past few years, I hadn’t given myself time to enjoy life. I was too busy surviving, or so I thought, stuck in a victim mentality while I waited for someone to rescue me. When I look back, I think that I was really just hiding from the world and avoiding what I knew I must do to clear this situation. I continued to work and no one would have known about the internal struggles I had with myself, trying to deal with things I just didn’t want to, or didn’t think I should have to.

Falling in Love!

So, I decided to date. I was ready. I wanted to go out into the world. I thought that I still had a reasonable figure, still looked ok, had a lot to offer, enjoyed lots of activities, and I really love people and love to laugh. Unexpectedly, I met this amazing person. We went to the movies, out to dinner, camping, on picnics, and this summer we will go snorkelling and spend a lot of time at the beach. Just like I used to before the rollercoaster ride. The person I met is a lot like me. I feel appreciated, loved, wanted, respected, and I look forward to our dates. I don’t feel alone anymore. It’s wonderful. I’ve found love!

Who have I found? Well… I found ME! I’m dating myself!

I’m showering myself with self love and appreciation. I choose to use positive words when I describe myself. I find the best features of me and focus on that, even though I acknowledge all of my features. We all have them, don’t we – the bits we’d rather hide? And it’s what makes us real. I tell myself how smart I am. I share my knowledge and skills openly. I give gratitude every day for the little, wonderful things in my life, like the washing machine that washes my clothes, the candle that smells divine, the dog who is always happy to see me, the sun on my face, the coffee in my cup—the simple things. I give myself time, care, and consideration. But most of all, I give gratitude for me. I love me! I’m so glad that I have met me again because I’m pretty awesome!

That childhood game that we have all heard when plucking flower petals from the stalk—“loves me… loves me not?”—doesn’t apply to me anymore. Because I know I love me. The anger has gone. The thoughts and actions of the victim, blamer, and martyr sometimes surface again, but my love for myself generally keeps them under control.

I have found that my change of energy is drawing people to me. Clients seek me out, people smile at me in the street, people want to be around me—and I want to be around me! One day, I might date someone else, but right now I am very happy with my date, my constant companion—ME!

Does this self-awakening sound like a journey you also want to take? Do you love yourself? Feel free to use my story for your own inspiration. 😊

Give me a call. I’d love to chat with you.

If you want to know more, then I’d love to connect with you! Contact me through my website www.futurestrongeducation.com OR join me on our Facebook page – Future Strong Education.

Dr Kathryn Murray has worked with children and families for 35 years as a teacher, researcher and university lecturer. Kathy is the CEO of Future Strong Education supporting parents and children through workshops and speaking engagements.

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weabbynormalblog · 5 years ago

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Keep strong...

I've had this message on my board all week. So I must of looked at it more than a dozen times since then. What does it mean, what am I trying to say? I stare at it, percrasting not putting laundry away, but washing the floor instead. I struggled with it, the grammar and text of the sign. Should it "be strong" or "stay strong"? Why did I decided in "keep strong" versus "be strong"? Strong can refer to physical and mental strength. Staying with the program that's the "keep" part and the "strong" part is not giving it up for good.

At my worst, it was tempting to end it all. I also wrestle with cutting behavior and body numbness. It isn't easy being me. I know I can change and heal; I've done it before. I am strong. I overcame my dyslexia by the time I was 25. I have over came back injuries, 4 times now in my life and still healing from the last time. I was in a wheel chair for a year due to a frozen sciatica. Ive had successful shoulder surgery too. I gave up smoking over 20 some odd years now. I've survived and recovered from a nasty divorce, lost business and financial ruin. I've also lost 200lbs and avoided diabeties. I thought I had seen it and done it all.

Now I'm a brain injury survivor with chronic pain and fatigue. I'll get through this and so will you!

Can you keep strong and have the ability to ask for help when needed? If you're an over achiever like myself, your pride takes a bit of a dip in having to ask. I know, it's hard to be the one needing help. Especially if it was the other way around before. Now it's time to get past it! It's ok that we need help with some tasks, and that there are things we don't know how to communicate. Then there's things that I can do that others can't. One of my best gifts is my creativity. I can make something out of nothing. Whatever a sweater boom there it is, a minion pinayta for a party, a desk organizer, a bird feeder; some people can't even visualize it, never mind create it. Even Greta Nuremburg speaks of her handicap as a gift. It let her cut through the bullshit to form a direct line to help climate change. There's a certain stubbornness that seems to develop with learning disabilities/brain injury/mental illness etc. For me I'm sure its a coping mechanism. Its my brain working out how to make sense out of all this data. It gets overloaded at the strangest times, it seems. Still lots of mystery in my head. As a person that has difficulties decoding, speaking and hearing, sometimes adapting means putting myself in the middle of everything. I need to arrange things so that I can understand and communicate better, which isn't always possible. I'm fortunate to have a person to help when I need to get groceries or run errans. I'm still too limited with my mobility to drive most days. For everything else I do more with less. I can't hear on the phone. Add accents of any kind to conversations like West Indian, British, French or German... It's the worst for me and then we play a game show called What did you say? I'll take M as in Michael please. I dont do phone calls on days that I'm not up to the task. Forget everything if I have a migraine or my pain is past 6 and I had a rough night. Phone calls, get them out and done first thing in the am. I don't play telephone tag either. When leaving a message state a day and time that works better for them to reach you. I do everything I can possibly do with text messages and email. I process information best like this, the written word. Yeah, I'm not much of a conversationalist these days in person, unless its 1 on 1 or maybe you need a monologue or speech delivered? While writing offers some communication relief theres still grammar errors and spelling mistakes, but more or less writing is stress free for me, even enjoyable opposed to trying to follow a conversation between 3 or 4 people and remember names.

On bad brain days all my disabilities can be too much; then with the chronic pain and fatigue on top of that? Just kill me now? Or maybe now? Screw going anywhere! Ever! It's a head in a jar rough day, my body doesn't respond well to anything. Walking and talking is over ratted at this point; all I can do is rest. I feel defeated by my own body. See you have to "Keep Strong" even when your body can't. So no deal, less urgent tasks fall to the wayside. Sorry I got to bail out on that date again. In the moment I just want to give way, let it all go and become a gelatinous mass that can ooze up and down the stairway, absorb nutrients by oozing on them and Ah...don't move just emit blob like behavior.

Recently I joined the local Chronic pain and fatigue organization, there is no brain rehabilitation in my area, so much for Medicare. I'm so grateful that this .org exists. It's great when I can get out to the activities. The Yoga, it was great! Low impact just what I needed. I was in bed for 2 days after that. This Thursday Yoga came and went with my sadness. I did my at home version instead. Today again is not one of those going out days. That's perfectly fine with me. I know when I'm not good with other people or getting around. There's no point in being angry, tired, frustrated and in pain.

So when faced with "keep strong" laying in my bed. I know that caring for myself is not giving in to limitating beliefs but allowing myself to becoming stronger in the long term by understanding and treating my physical limitations today instead of making like the other regular sheep. I still meet my short term goals on stretching, hydrating and eating well. The basic chores still gets done. You need to remind your self that resting is a part of the healing process. This part is about concentrating on my health and supporting my own recovery. No one can do that for you. Understanding our limitations is not a weakness! Adaptation by trial and error. What works, what doesn't and concentrate on what does work for you. Forgive yourself for not being up to task. I know it's hard to believe that it's is a gift. It is a strength and a gift to be able to face the tough stuff. We get to see the world we live in another way opposed to those entrenched in the rat race. It's not about fitting in society. It's about taking your space, finding your power and place; just as you are. I no longer feel that I'm missing out in life. I'm working on healing myself. I haven't lost the war, I'm just taking a breather. So go on ahead, I'll catch up eventually. This dang boulder won't stop rolling down the hill. Hold on, I'll go get another boulder to stop this one...

#brain injury survivor #survive mental illness #rehabilitation recovery #chronic illness missing out #coping with energy managment #emotional support #How to cope with cop out #understanding mental illness #on the spectrum #how to love yourself

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peacenik0 · 6 years ago

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A Painful Path

Chapter 5

Prompt: You’ve got the most fantastic style. Could you write something where Scully is on her period the first time they have sex? She’s super nervous about it and Mulder’s like: It’s fine. Let’s do it. (prompt courtesy @pearsalot)

Summary: Mulder and Scully struggle to define their relationship as they come to terms with the difficulties of infertility.

Rating: NC-17/ NSFW/ MSR/ Angst and Feels

Tagging @today-in-fic, @improlificinsarcasm, @xfpornbattle

Events happen after Amor Fati and before Rush, circa Summer 1999

---

Last time on “A Painful Path” ( Chapter 4)

“Hey, Scully.”

“Mmmhmm,” she hums sleepily.

“Have you been back to see Dr. Parenti recently?” Scully’s eyes go wide in surprise.

“Oh, um, no, not recently.” Her eyes shift down to where their hands touch. “After everything that’s happened…” she drifts off. “There just hasn’t been time.” Mulder hears the sadness and repressed longing in the space between her words. He thinks of all that they’ve been through together, of all that might lay waiting for them in the future.

“How many tries do you have left?”

“Um, two, I think.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s time to call and make another appointment?” He says softly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Why’s that?” She asks, her voice on the razor’s edge of hope. Mulder thinks of the boy on the beach, of tiny Scully with a big round belly, of a completely different kind of life.

“Because I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” his voice is tight with emotion. “And I think I’m ready…” he pauses and whispers softly; “I want to try again with you...”

---

June 15th, 1999

Scully’s Apartment

Georgetown

“Oh… “

Once the words leave his mouth, Scully is in shock. She sinks back into the couch and pinches the bridge of her nose, her emotions swirl inside of her leaving her almost unable to speak. Did he just say he wants to move forward with the IVF together?

“This is not the reaction I was anticipating.”

“Mulder, I’m sorry, I’m just in shock right now...” Scully can’t seem to get a handle on her emotions, and that terrifies her. “I don’t know what to think.”

“Maybe I’m getting my signals crossed,” Mulder pauses, a note of disappointment in his voice. “But I thought you’d be a little happier about it.”

“No, no, I am happy about it…” Scully pauses and wipes a tear away from her eye. “This is just a lot to process, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I suppose it was a little out of the blue, but seeing that father in the hospital kinda got me thinking. I never thought that being a parent was in the cards for me. But now… I don’t know, maybe it is.”

“Mulder, I appreciate this, I really do. Hearing you say that means a lot to me… However, there are some other considerations that may prevent us from going forward with the process.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for one, the cost of the treatment.” Mulder is an impulsive person, he often makes decisions based on whatever he is feeling in that particular moment. Scully is usually the one to bring him back to earth, and help him to see the reality of the situation. “The last implantation was quite costly,” Scully pauses. Discussing her personal finances makes her feel extremely uncomfortable. “I nearly wiped out my savings account to pay for the first round.”

“Oh…” Mulder looks down thoughtfully and places his hands in prayer position at his lips. Scully knows that Mulder probably didn’t even consider the financial strain a process like this could put on someone. “I knew it was expensive, but I figured that our insurance would at least cover some of it.”

“Our insurance only covers the infertility drugs themselves, it’s a series of self-administered hormone injections. The rest of the treatment is out of pocket, I’m afraid.”

“How much?”

“Eight thousand dollars.” Her shoulders seem to slump further with each word.

“Oooof that’s a lot of cash to pony up,” Mulder runs his hands through his hair.

“It is... I’ve been slowly putting some more money away, but at this point, I barely have enough to cover one more round.”

“Well…” Mulder pauses in thought for a moment, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Scully is on the edge of her seat, wondering what he will say next. “Then I will pay for one of the rounds.” Now it’s Scully’s turn to be in shock.

“What?” The very thought of Mulder paying for the IVF makes her stomach tie up in knots. He is notoriously cheap, choosing to live on sunflower seeds and hungry man dinners in his tiny crappy apartment. Plus if he pays, this opens up a whole set of other issues that she is not sure she is ready to deal with. “Mulder...no I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me, I offered…” He begins, but Scully cuts him off.

“But, Mulder, it’s a lot of money to spend on something that may not even work.”

“Scully, I want to do this.” He sits next to her and takes her hands in his. “Listen, I have the money. My dad left me a fairly sizable inheritance when he died, and right now it’s just sitting in my savings account, essentially collecting dust.”

“I would feel like I was taking advantage of…” Scully pauses searching for a word. As usual she remains unsure of exactly where they stand, and it feels too awkward to discuss the status of their relationship right now. “What we are to each other,” Scully finishes weakly.

“But you’re not, not at all. Look, Scully, so much has been taken away from you, and I can’t help but feel my part in that. But that’s not why I want to do this, I want to do this because if anyone deserves a chance at motherhood, it’s you,” he says earnestly. “Besides, what am I going to spend it on, more porn?” Scully can’t help but chuckle. “At least this way I’ll know it’s going to a good cause.” Mulder is offering to help her achieve her dream of becoming a Mother, yet she still feels a tinge of guilt for wanting to accept his charity.

“Okay,” she says looking into his eyes. “But I’m going to pay you back though.”

“Nah,” he waves his hand in the air. “You’ve had to put up with me for the last seven years, so I say we call it even.”

“If you insist,” she says, a grin teasing the corner of her mouth.

“It’s too bad we can’t just try our luck the old fashioned way, it’s free... and a lot more fun.” He says with a wry grin, she tsks and pinches him lightly.

“Believe me, if there were a chance in hell that it could work… I would have tried it ages ago,” she says with an eyebrow raised towards him. Mulder’s mouth falls open.

His eyes stay on hers, the intensity could warm up her hands on a cold day. Warm up her heart. Her hand finds his cheek, and slides up to his temple, then presses her forehead to his. A physical manifestation of how their minds meet, how they meld together.

“Never say never.”

For a moment, his recent most recent brush with death springs to her mind. Pulling back to look upon his face, she touches the space between his eyes with her fingertip. This is what Mulder would call the third eye, the center of wisdom. To know that his mind is whole, that his body is once again safe in her hands...

“I don’t when it comes to you.”

There are little niggling concerns, tickling the back of her heart. What if it doesn’t work? What if we don’t work? But then Mulder kisses her, and she forgets everything except for the feel of his lips against hers. His heart beats under his palm. Scully worries about many things, but wishes for many more. Maybe… maybe...

For the first time in months she feels a sense of hope for the future.

---

Later that evening, Mulder has decided that a movie night is in order. Scully wouldn’t like going out to some fancy restaurant, so instead Mulder brings her a beer and some salt-free pretzels from the kitchen. It’s not much to celebrate with, but Mulder figures they need something to mark the occasion. He hands Scully a beer, and she twists off the cap.

“What should we drink to?” she asks, tipping her bottle towards him.

“Oh, I don’t know. I just feel lucky to be sitting here next to you.”

“But I don’t believe in luck.”

“Well, maybe you should start.”

“Hey, I saw an ad in the paper this morning, it looks like Chippendale's needs some new dancers, maybe I could moonlight there on the weekends?” Scully huffs and rolls her eyes at him. “Come on, Scully, you’d throw down some cash to see these assets, wouldn’t ya?” Mulder shimmies his shoulders at her teasingly. Scully blushes, but recovers quickly. Mulder notices.

“Pennies, maybe,” she says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, you wouldn’t throw few dollars my way, even out of pity?”

“Certainly not out of pity.” All the sudden her voice is sounding a bit coy. Mulder decides to see where this might lead him.

“Actually, I don’t think you could stand it.” Mulder begins, baiting her.

“Stand what?” Scully tilts her head towards him. If she isn’t intrigued already, then she’s doing a great job at faking it.

“Me… showing off my body to a room full of women who are already drunk… and horny, I might add.” Scully now blushes a deep red, he’s got her hooked. So he gets a little closer to her. “You’d be so jealous.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she shrugs her shoulders. “I have never been jealous over you.”

“Oh really?” Mulder raises his eyebrows, and strokes his chin.

“Not in the slightest.” Her tone is on the edge of teasing and flirty. She shyly draws a circle on his thigh with her index finger.

“Maybe I should get myself one of those speedo-like things… something that will really accentuate my package.” He gestures towards his crotch. “Come on, Scully, I know you’d love to see me in a banana hammock.” Mulder teases wiggling his eyebrows at her. This time she giggles, her body is close to his.

“You already have one of those,” she breathes out, her fingers have moved further up his leg, it sends a charge over his skin. Mulder feels a stirring in his jeans… it’s been too long. The spark between them is ignited, and Mulder knows by now, that it will never go out.

“Ah, so you have been paying attention,” he pauses to kiss her cheek, then her hairline. She shivers, it spurs him on to kiss the spot behind her ear. “Admit it, you have been checking me out all these years. Just dying to get your hands on me.” Her face is bright red now, she looks down in embarrassment. “It’s okay, Scully,” He tips her chin up to look into her eyes. His nose is almost touching hers, her cheek is warm under his hand, his mouth is a scant inch from hers. “I have to say, the feeling is mutual.”

Mulder finally brushes his lips against hers, and she responds immediately, searching for his bottom lip with her tongue. Scully must have been feeling the strain of their nine month self imposed sex drought, because before long she is catapulting herself into his lap, and thrusting her tongue against his.

Mulder is hard already, so ripe, he’s rotten.

Pulling her flush against his body, his greedy hands quickly unhook her bra under her shirt. He loves the feel of her breast, soft and perfect against his palm. When his fingers find her nipple he pinches it, then sucks it between his lips, leaving a wet spot on her shirt.

“Mmmm, I like that,” she moans. Her hands are everywhere, under his shirt, tracing his pecs and stomach. To see her this aroused, only feeds his own desire. She is already thrusting against his erection, and he is moaning incessantly into her mouth. There is a distinct possibility that he might lose it right then and there, and he needs to warn her.

“Uh, Scully,” he gasps against her lips. Her desperate kisses take his breath away. “I just um...” Kiss. “Might not..” Kiss. Mulder is barely able to talk because, she won’t stop kissing him. He loves it. “Scully, Scully, wait a minute…”

“I don’t want to wait...” she pouts, breaking away from him to nibble at his jaw. She’s so damn sexy, he he can hardly resist her.

“I know, me too…” His voice rasps, as he takes her face in his hands. \ “But that’s part of the problem. I just want you so much and it’s been a while…” Mulder drifts off, and presses his forehead to hers. “I just don’t think I’m going to be able to control myself for very long.” Mulder says earnestly, a little embarrassed. Scully nods in understanding, then nuzzles his nose with hers.

“It’s okay, me either,” she tells him, this time kissing his lips tenderly. Mulder feels relieved. They don’t always communicate well, but sex has opened up a whole new way to express themselves.

“I just… I just want to make sure this is good for you.” He palms her heated cunt through her jeans, eliciting an audible gasp. There is an aching desire within him to please her, to hear her make that sound again and again. Though they have only made love a handful of times, he has been able to experience the joy of making her come. It is a sight to behold. When they achieve climax together, the feeling is beyond comprehension. Otherworldly. Extraterrestrial. Cosmic.

“You will,” she says earnestly, grinding her heated cunt against him. They are desperate for each other that he paws her trousers inelegantly, searching for a button he cannot find.

“Here let me,” she bats his hand away, and quickly jumps off the couch to stand in front of him--giving him her own kind of lighting speed strip tease. His shirt is off, his pants, his boxers, all he wears is a smile now.

“God, you’re so hot,” he looks at her, mouth slack, chest heaving, hair wild and untamed.

He reaches a finger into the elastic of her panties, pulling her towards him. His nose finds her sex, and he inhales her arousal, it triggers something neanderthal in his brain. Scully’s fingers grasp and pull at his hair. He sucks her slit through her panties, savoring her flavor, longing for more.

“I want you inside of me now,” she croons into his ear. Her breath tickles the fine hairs in his ear canal, making him even more aroused.

“Well… you don’t have to tell me twice,” he says hoarsely.

“Is this okay?” Scully reaches towards his erection, but stops before her fingers come in contact with his body. He shudders. For a moment Mulder remembers the incident with Diana, the way she touched him when he was barely conscious. It left a bad taste in the back of his throat.

“Just let me touch myself,” Mulder chokes out. Grasping the base of his length he strokes himself upwards. As he looks into Scully’s luminous eyes, all thoughts of Diana are pushed away. There is only Scully. He aches for her. “Get over here,” he husks and pulls her to him roughly. Once their naked bodies meet they both feel the electricity.

Their kiss is sex.

Mulder feels his own sense of masculine pride when he touches her and finds his fingers wet and hot. She teasingly slicks her folds up and down his cock, mingling his pre-cum with her arousal.

All the sudden she is sliding down his shaft, and he feels her tight heat squeezing around him. It takes him by surprise.

“Oh, oh.” Scully breathes out as her eyes slide closed in pleasure.

Mulder wants to go slow, but he can’t, his cock surges forward like a heat seeking missile. He feels his shaft spreading her open, making room for them to fit together. Every nerve ending in his body sings. They both moan in unison as he is finally fully sheathed inside of her. His eyes roll back into his head in ecstasy. There is the feeling of home being with her like this, but his home never made him feel like Scully does.

“You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” She starts to move, riding his shaft up and down, her breasts bounce in his face. The pleasure is overwhelming.

“Fuck,” his glottis clicks. God, he should have insisted on going down on her, it would have at least bided him some time. He won’t last long, he needs to make her come.

Mulder feels her clit under his thumb, slick and swollen. He rubs back and forth, up and down. Her inner muscles clench around his cock, as she still continues to ride him.

“Tell me you belong to me,” Scully pulls his hair back and sucks on his Adam’s apple. His fingers still on her clit for a moment, and she bucks against his hand, attempting to increase the friction.

“I belong to you,” he rasps, grasping her wrists in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “And you’re mine.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“I’m yours,” she whispers sucking his bottom lip. Scully yells out as he pinches her clit between his fingers, hard, finally he giving her relief. As soon as Mulder feels her inner muscles begin to spasm around him, he allows himself to let go. Wildly he grunts and buries his seed deep inside of her. Scully moans loudly as her cunt squeezes every last drop of come out of him. It’s euphoria beyond anything he’s ever experienced.

She falls forward and her hardened nipples press into his chest, his arms go around her. They kiss languidly, his softening cock still inside of her.

“Oh, I needed that,” Scully breathes out, sated and happy.

“Me too,” he chuckles, and kisses her again.

“Just let me know when you’ll be ready for round two,” she winks.

“Ha!” he chuckles, his hands go to her face. “You are going to be the death of me woman.”

---

June 28, 1999

Mulder’s Apartment

Hegel Place, Alexandria

It’s the night before the implantation, Mulder sits at his desk in the dark, there is only one lamp lighting the room. Scully told him that she needed time to prepare for their visit to the fertility clinic the next day. Mulder feels a nervous sense of anticipation, what if the treatment doesn’t work? What if it does? He and Scully have not taken any time to discuss the possibility, leaving him in the dark about what his role to any future child might be.

The phone rings, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“Hello, Fox, it’s your mother,” the voice of Teena Mulder comes softly over the phone line.

“Oh, hey Mom.” Mulder’s tone is polite, but not affectionate. His relationship with his mother has been strained for a long time.

“I’m just calling to see how you are doing after your... ordeal.”

“I’m fine, thank you. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I was quite… worried about you.” Teena Mulder’s voice is soft, but her statement triggers something in him.

“You were?” Mulder huffs and shakes his head. “Well that’s news to me Mom.”

“Fox, don’t be disrespectful.” His Mother says in a clipped tone.

“Well, how am I to think any differently when you were the one who checked me out of the hospital against medical advice.” Mulder hears himself getting louder. His Mother’s constant elusiveness, and the way she dodges answering his questions is beyond frustrating. Can’t she just give him a straight answer?

“Fox, I…” there is a pregnant pause, Mulder can hear the guilt close around her voice. “I did what I thought was best.”

“Oh, really? You thought it was best?” His temper is escalating, he needs answers, real ones. “The security footage showed you talking to him!” Mulder recalls Scully telling him about the his Mother’s meeting with the smoking man. He feels a surge or anger rise in his chest propelling him to stand up and start pacing. “What did he say to you, Mom?”

“He told me you would die if I didn’t get the hospital staff to release you into his care.” Her voice is desperate, yet still defensive. “He said he had the cure…” Mulder doesn’t wait for her to finish before he cuts her off.

“So you just handed me over, like you just handed over Samantha!?” His mother gasps at his words. “How could you do that, Mom? How could you trust him after all that he’s done?”

“I felt I didn’t have a choice...there is so much that you don’t know…”

Years of secrets and lies held tight within him boil over.

“Yeah like the fact that you had an affair with him, and I am a product of that.” The veins are popping out of his neck, his mother’s breathing sounds distressed over the line. Yet still she doesn’t answer his question. “Aren’t I Mom? Aren’t I?” He pauses to wait for a response, when she doesn’t say anything he kicks his trash can. “Your silence tells me everything I need to know.” Mulder hangs up and rips the telephone jack out of the wall.

He slumps down against his couch and puts his head in his hands. Sobs wrack his body as the floodgates within him open up. Mulder cries for a lifetime of unanswered questions, a lifetime of decisions made for him, a lifetime of secrets kept in his best interest.

All he ever wanted was the truth, and all he ever got were lies.

---

July 30th,1999

CVS parking lot

Georgetown

It’s been thirty-two days since the implantation. Thirty-two days and five hours to be exact, and Scully still hasn’t started her period. For the entire day she has been on the edge of catastrophe and joy, a strange kind of nervous excitement. She can hardly think of anything else. Now, right now, she could be pregnant. She can hardly stand not knowing, it’s maddening for her. Dana Scully doesn’t like surprises.

Scully and Mulder sit in her car in front of the pharmacy, she is debating whether or not to go in and pick up a pregnancy test. The phrase being on pins and needles is an understatement.

“Do you want me to go in?” Mulder asks from the passenger’s seat.

“I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, why not?”

“Because... I wouldn’t feel right sending you in there.”

“Scully… this isn’t the same as picking you up a box of tampons.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right. I just can’t stand this uncertainty. Besides these home pregnancy tests are notoriously inaccurate, I don’t want to get my hopes up over what may end up being a false positive.” Scully looks down at her lap, and sighs. “Uh, maybe I should just wait until Monday when I have my appointment.”

“Are you sure that you don’t want me to come to the appointment with you?”

”I’m sure. It was my idea to try this route in the first place,” Scully says. Something in her wants to give him an out, wants to relieve him of any responsibility in her quest to get pregnant. “I don’t want you to feel obligated.” Her tone is soft, and she can’t bring herself to look at him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mulder shake his head in disbelief.

“You think I’m doing this out of some perfunctory sense of obligation?”

“I uh, I don’t know…” she pauses and shifts in her seat. Scully has never been comfortable discussing these sorts of things, she wants to jump out of the car right now, just so she can get out of this conversation. “Everything is just so complicated…” she drifts off, looking out the window.

“So it was easier for you when I was just a sperm donor? That’s just like you, Scully, everything’s got to be clinical and sterile. It was okay when I was just shooting my load into a cup, but now that I want to be involved all the sudden it’s too complicated.” His words sting her, and sees the passion flash behind his eyes. “I was under the impression that we are in this thing together.”

Scully feels tears prick at the corners of her eyes. A flash of Mulder holding a baby with his eyes and her nose flashes unbidden into her mind.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t realize…” Scully pauses in an effort to control her emotions. “My chances of getting pregnant are very low, and I just figured it were better for me to face this alone. There could be a lot of difficulty and disappointment ahead, I didn’t want to put you through that.”

“Haven’t we been through worse?” In some ways he’s right, but this is a new kind of challenge that they have never had to face. What if this is their undoing? Most couples don’t start out their relationship with a series of infertility treatments, but they aren’t most couples. In fact, Scully isn’t even sure what they are. “And haven’t we always made it through together?” He looks at her intently now, and she nods.

Questions swirl above her head, but she can’t seem to grab them from thin air. She longs to find the concrete answers to her questions through science, but being with Mulder has always turned her carefully crafted world view on it’s head. There is nothing she has ever read or ever studied that could prepare her for this. Nothing that can explain away the intricacies of the human heart. This scares her.

“I just don’t know where we go from here. I’m frustrated because I don’t have any answers for you or for myself.”

“We don’t need all the answers right now.” Mulder’s voice is soft, reassuring. “I will be here in whatever capacity you need me to be. But I am in this with you, don’t forget that, okay?”

“Okay.” Her voice is a note above a whisper, she is overwhelmed with emotions. She leans her body against his, like she can take some of his strength. Scully decides that it's worth to wait for certainty, she’ll get her answers from a blood test.

“Well I need to go in there anyway and pick up some sunflowers seeds so… you want some ginger ale, Twizzlers, adult diapers?” He smirks at her, effectively breaking the tension. Scully marvels at the way he knows her, the corner of her mouth turns up just slightly.

“Just some Twizzlers thank you.”

“Okay, just Twizzlers, got it.” With a wink he bounds out of the car, Scully exhales and cracks her neck. She thinks of his words to her; haven’t we always made it through together.

Rolling down her window, Scully calls to him.

“Oh and Mulder…” He turns back towards her, the evening sun lights up his face.

“Yeah?”

“The appointment is at noon on Monday.” Scully looks at him expectantly. “So I figured that we could take an early lunch.” He grins and points towards her.

“It’s a date.”

---

When they get back to her apartment, Scully busies herself in the kitchen, Mulder can see her shoulders tense as she scrubs an already fastidiously clean counter-top. He comes up behind her in the kitchen, his arms circle her waist, and she leans back into him.

“I think I know something that could relax you.” Mulder says, brushing the hair away from her neck and placing a kiss there. Scully sighs as the sponge and and spray bottle drop out of her hands.

“What’s that?” she asks incredulously.

“A massage.” His fingers go to her shoulders, and he begins to knead the tight muscles there. Scully sighs and leans back into his touch.

“By whom? You?” She turns in his arms and raises an eyebrow. Scully looks like she needs a little more convincing, but just a little more.

“By yours truly… didn’t I ever tell you that I have magic fingers?” He smirks waving his fingers back and forth like he is “tickling the ivories.”

“Well you do have a magic something…” she points to the tip of her tongue.

“Well, I could do that too… but I figured that you like it better when I work up to it.” Mulder leans down to kiss her, and his hand goes to the base of her neck to rub the knots away.

“Sounds good to me.” Scully says, taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. “There is some lotion on the sink in the bathroom.”

“Okay great, just get naked and I’ll be right back.” Scully tsks at him, but begins removing her clothes anyway. When he returns, she is in her underwear laying face down on the bed. Her skin glows in the soft light of her bedside lamp. Mulder certainly hopes that this massage will lead to other things, but he will be content if it only leads to more massage, and a relaxed Scully.

He squirts some lotion out, and rubs both hands together to warm it up. Starting with light circles, he works her neck and shoulders, as usual he is eager to please. It is easy to see from her posture that this is where she carries a great deal of her stress.

“Just relax,” he says in a soothing tone. Mulder presses deeper into her flesh, attempting to relieve some of her worries.“Maybe I should’ve put that Enya CD in the CD player.”

“You mean the Enya CD that I don’t have?” Scully snarks. His palms press into her her shoulder blades lightly, then slightly deeper.

“Yeah, you know, the one that I didn’t see in your bathroom drawer.” A knuckle work works out a knot in her neck. “Sail away, sail away, sail away,” he sings in a ridiculous off key falsetto. Mulder can feel the vibrations of a stifled giggle rumble under her ribs.

“I thought this was supposed to be relaxing,” she says dryly.

“Okay, okay, no singing, I don’t want to upset my one and only client.” His voice is tickles her ear, his fingers trail like feathers over her spine, eliciting a shiver and a rash of gooseflesh.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Scully sighs, finally melting into the bed. Mulder feels a swell of pride, that she is finally relaxing under his touch. Once he reaches the small of her back, Scully whimpers, so he caresses her in light strokes. Something tells him that Scully enjoys him touching her there as much as he does. Now his fingers slide down further, finally landing at the top of her panties.

“Can I take these off?” Mulder asks, hooking his index finger under the elastic of her silky beige panties. “I need to get at these tight glutes.”

“I suppose so,” she says coyly. Trying to keep his excitement in check, Mulder shimmies her underwear over her hips and down her legs. Scully shuffles on the bed, and opens her legs a little wider, allowing him the barest glimpse of her pink pussy. Mulder gulps.

“Okay,” he clears his throat. “Back to work.” Focus, focus, he tells himself. Scully sighs again, as his fingers knead the tight muscles of her ass.

“Mmm, that feels so good,” she moans. His cock hardens instantly. With his dick leading the way, Mulder spreads open her ass cheeks, and he groans. He places a kiss on the dimple just above her tailbone, then another slightly lower. He feels Scully stiffen a bit underneath him.

“Is this okay?” He asks tentatively.

“Uhh, well to be honest, I’ve never done it...” Scully drifts off.

“Hmm, me either, but I’ve seen it done quite few times.” Mulder says teasingly, kissing right next to her ass crack.

“I’m sure you have,” she says dryly. “In any case, I suppose we could try it.”

“I’m sure you’ll let me know if this kind of thing is not your bag… baby” Mulder intones, imitating Austin Powers.

“Call me baby again, and just see what happens…” she says sternly. Certainly, Scully would not let him live long enough to see the sequel.

“Okay, okay,” he mumbles, spreading her open again, he feels a bit nervous, but he figures he’ll just start slow and see where it leads him. He kisses the tight circle of muscle, then darts out his tongue slightly. Scully jumps. “Everything alright?”

“Yes, I just wasn’t expecting it… it feels nice.” His tongue traces around the puckered hole tentatively, and Scully sighs. So he does it again, and again. She begins to moan now, and Mulder is encouraged by this, so he hums against her. Scully yelps. “Oh, oh, oh, “ she whimpers. Now he draws a line down over her taint and back up again, he tastes the arousal dripping out of her. Scully is like melted butter on warm toast. Mulder is so turned on right now, that his erection is pulsing in his pants. They are feeling too tight, so he backs away to remove them and his shirt. Scully looks back to see where he has gone.

“Uh, sorry I was just getting a little uncomfortable.” Mulder says gesturing to his hard-on tenting in his boxers.

“Oh, well..” Scully gets on her hands and knees, opening her thighs to make room for him. “Let’s see if I can help you out with that.” It’s clearly and invitation he cannot refuse.

“Well, if you insist.” Mulder drops his boxers quickly, and moves to take her from behind. She reaches back to rub the head of his cock against her slit, and he gasps at the sensation. Finally, she positions him at her entrance, and rocks her hips back to push the tip just inside. Mulder pulls out, then plunges back in moving in a little further. Scully gasps, so he does it again, this time he looks down to see where they are joined. They have not tried this position very many times, but he loves to watch his cock pistoning in and out of her. It’s incredible. He withdraws again, but this time he gasps, but for a different reason.

Blood.

Looking down he sees his cock coated in dark red. Normally, this wouldn’t be an issue for him, he has never been bothered by period sex. After all, he’s seen all manner of bodily fluids and other liquids. Plus, it’s just a natural part of the human experience for women.

“Ugh, Scully…” He tries not to alarm her, but she needs to know, he wouldn’t feel right not telling her. “You...um…”

“What, Mulder?” she asks, looking back, clearly concerned. “Just tell me.”

“Uh… I think you started your period.” He says softly, trying to ease the blow.

“Oh…” Mulder can tell she is in shock now, his erection withers at the heaviness of the moment. “So I guess I wasn’t…” Scully stops the realization dawning on her. Mulder reaches for her, attempting to pull her into his comforting embrace, but his arms clutch at the empty air. He watches as Scully gingerly rolls off of the bed, and heads towards the bathroom.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay, I just um… I think maybe I need to take a shower.”

“Do you want me to come in with you?” he asks, but she just shakes her head and closes the door softly behind her. Mulder doesn’t know whether or not he should follow her, or let her be. Walking slowly, he softly knocks on the door, and waits for her to invite him in.

“You can come in.” Mulder hears a catch of tears in her voice. Scully is sitting hunched over on the toilet, her robe is askew and falling off her shoulder. Her body curls in on itself, as if she could somehow protect her own heart.

“Are you okay?” Softly, he strokes her hair away from her face.

“I.. uh… I don’t know,” Scully wipes her noses with the back of her hand, a tear leaks out of the corner of her eye. “I did everything I could to prepare myself for this eventuality. But when my cycle was late… it gave me some hope that maybe… maybe it would work out this time. But now I can see that I was being foolish.” Her voice is soft and sad, her eyes cast downward. Mulder crosses over, and sits on the tub to face her.

“Dana,” he says softly, tilting her chin up to look at him. The use of her first name sounds strange on his tongue, but the intimacy of it seems appropriate right now. They are trying to have a baby after all. “Just because you knew this might happen, doesn’t mean that you can’t be sad when it does. Hope isn’t foolish, Scully.”

“But what if it is? What if all of this is for nothing?” Mulder’s heart breaks as she says this, feeling the guilt at his responsibility for her condition, but his guilt won’t help her now. He wants so desperately to make this possible for her, if he could do anything to change the past, he would.

“It’s not.” Mulder places a hand on her shoulder. “Because we still have one more chance, right?”

“Yes, but it’s a long shot.” Her voice is still tearful. Mulder remembers at the end of his dream, how Scully told him the truth, how she gave him the strength to keep fighting. Maybe he can give her some of that strength now.

“Look, I may not be able to understand exactly what you are going through right now, but if there is one thing I know about you, it’s that you don’t give up.” His hand goes to cup her jaw, and he strokes her cheek with his thumb. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.“ He finishes softly, unable to keep the sheer emotion out of his voice. Mulder almost covers his mouth because every time he’s ever said the word love to Scully, it has backfired in some way. She looks up at him now, and he sees the surprise and adoration behind her eyes. “If you need to lean on me now, then lean on me.” Scully falls forward into his open arms, he cradles her against the cold hard ceramic tub.

The world seems dark and brutal, visiting a myriad of misfortunes upon them. If god exists, isn’t he supposed to be kind and benevolent? Surely he could look at Scully and see that her heart is good, her motivations pure. Surely he could see that she deserves this one small bit of happiness.

God, he thinks bitterly. If you’re out there, maybe you could cut us a break just this once? Don’t do it for me, do it for Scully, she’s the one who needs it right now. She’s the one, god, she’s the one.

---

That night Mulder has a dream.

He’s on the beach again, but this time Scully lays next to him on a blue towel. When Mulder looks down he sees a baby napping contently between them. Scully seems lighter, unburdened by the weight of all that has come before. She smiles at him, a dusting of freckles across her nose, she’s a sight to behold.

“It was a lot work to get here, but don’t you think it’s worth it?” she asks, gently stroking the baby’s face. There is a sense of joy and accomplishment, of love and contentment that he’s never felt before.

“Definitely.” Mulder smiles and looks at the child, a swell of love fills him up. He looks out at the ocean, a seagull cries in the air as the salty wind hits his face. Scully’s hand goes to his and for a moment all is peaceful, all seems right with the world.

Suddenly, the light around him changes. The sky goes dark, the wind goes dead, the seagulls stop crying. Scully and the child disappear into thin air.

“Scully!” When he looks up, the Smoking Man stands before him, lighting a cigarette.

“I thought you gave up on this kind of life? Perhaps the one I gave you proved to be unsatisfactory.”

“It wasn’t the right life for me.”

“But one with Agent Scully is? You know you can’t give her those things. You’d never make a good Father. You’re too selfish.”

“You’re one to talk. What kind of Father are you?”

“Admittedly I haven’t always been around. Perhaps I haven’t always shown you what you needed to see.” The Smoking Man takes a drag of his cigarette, and exhales slowly. “But despite all that, you’re my son, and the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as they say.” Mulder feels a surge hatred at his words. “Someday you’ll see the bigger picture.”

“What’s the bigger picture?”

“That you and are I the same, whether you like it or not. We share the same blood, the same DNA. We both sacrifice to our quest, we both want to save the world.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“That any child of yours will be mine.”

---

“NOOOOO!!!” Scully hears Mulder’s voice, and it wakes her instantly. She feels him thrashing and kicking next to her on the bed. Her heart jumps into her throat. Disoriented she reaches for her gun, but quickly realizes that Mulder is having a nightmare. “Scully...Scu-lly!” he shouts in desperation.

“Mulder, Mulder!” Her hands are gentle on his face. His legs twist further in the sea of blankets surrounding him, cold sweat forms on his brow. “You’ve got to wake up!” Now she shakes him gently, attempting to rouse him from whatever evils thwart his dreams. He sucks in a loud desperate breath as his eyes finally pop open.

“Scully?” His eyes look around wildly.

“Yes, it’s me. You were having a nightmare.”

“You were gone, the baby was gone…”

“The baby?” Scully can’t help the shock and sadness the edge into her voice.

“He took you… just like he takes everything from me.”

“Who?”

“The Smoking Man. I’ll never have anything good, not while he’s around. Anyone I care about just gets hurt… or worse.” His face falls into his hands, his body defeated. “And that’s why we can never have a baby.”

To be continued in chapter 6.

---

Many thanks to @illnevermeettheground, for her continued support and amazing insights. She has been a huge asset over the last few chapters, and I am super grateful for her.

Also, I am so lucky to have had @monikafilefan to have helped me with not only grammar beta, but also with the IVF stuff ( which is a bit mind-boggling, and those of you who have written IVF timeline know what I am talking about). I am really lucky to have her knowledge and expertise in these areas.

Tagging internet wife @i-gaze-at-scully ( because even though smut is not her thing, she is definitely my emotional support <3)

Also, tagging friends who have been following this. @defnotmeyo, @scully-eats-sushi, @storybycorey, @msraddicted, @country3living, @lifeisshortdrinkthewine, @danaedaniels, @gaycrouton, @vespagirl04, @xfilesgayepisode, @xfilesobsession @baronessblixen, @skullsmuldon@spiritedballroomdancer

#a painful path #chapter 5 #msr fanfic #msr smut #x-files fanfic #ivf timeline #angst and feels #formerly known as #dicked too hard

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