Story #7 "David Duchovny"

Story #21 "It all started with a calendar" 2/2

This is The X-Files fanfiction story.

Read it on AO3

When Scully comes out of the bathroom, clad in her typical set of silk pajamas, her face bare of any make-up, Mulder is already in bed. He casts a coy smile in her direction, but his face is taut with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation.

“I took a shower in the downstairs bathroom.”

He’s wearing a t-shirt and whatever he has down there is hidden under the blanket, but Scully prays Mulder's wearing his pajama pants. Just looking at him, she feels ready to fall apart at the seams. All of a sudden she is tongue-tied, unable to squeeze out past her lips a single syllable. She feels like a bride on her wedding night who's about to get cold feet but also as if it might be her only chance, which she’s not quite ready to blow. She’s terribly out of sync with her voice of reason, so in order to calm her nerves, she turns off the light, takes a few steps to the bed, and quickly sinks under the covers.

She can feel Mulder moving as far away from her as possible, trying to give her extra space, but it immediately becomes obvious that they can barely fit in that bed together. As Mulder still does his best to avoid touching his lovely partner, one of his knees accidentally bumps into the crease of her ass, and Scully’s whole body jerks so unexpectedly that she knocks him out of bed.

“Oh my god, Mulder. Are you OK?

“Jesus, Scully. You know, you could have told me if you changed your mind about me sleeping on the floor. No need to go ballistic.”

He looks up at her from his place on the floor, grimacing and rubbing a bump on his forehead. With those big puppy eyes, that pouty mouth and mussed hair, dressed only in a tatty white t-shirt and boxers he looks irresistibly cute, and Scully can’t fight the urge to reach out and lightly touch his cheek. The whole predicament is so ridiculously comical that the corners of her mouth start curving up slightly, and she quickly covers it with her hand but it’s just too much and in a second she bursts out laughing, glimpses of tears shine in her eyes. Contagious. Deep, loud, wake-everyone-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night laughter. Mulder starts laughing with her.

And just like that, the tension is gone.

“Here, get back to bed.” Scully makes room for him on the bed and throws open the covers.

Illuminated only by the dim moonlight coming through the window across the bed, she can see Mulder wiggling his brows playfully at her. With a wide grin still plastered on his face, he gets on his feet and slips under the covers. He nudges Scully with his shoulder and she dives under his arm, throwing one leg on his, her head resting on his shoulder. Like they always sleep this way. As if she belongs there.

When Scully first realized that she started having unpartnerly feelings for her partner, she designed a whole set of rules in the situations of extreme proximity to Mulder. It didn’t take much to make her see that she had trouble sticking to those rules lately. Mulder was her guilty pleasure. And she is coming to terms with the fact that any guilty pleasure if done in moderation is not something to feel guilty about at all. Mulder IS her guilty pleasure. The one she is going to indulge in tonight and get away with.

“I have a confession.” Scully nuzzles his neck with the tip of her nose and feels him inhale sharply. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“That?” With a hand that isn’t caressing her back in long strokes, he waves between them. “Sleeping together? Hugging?”

“Sleeping, hugging, and all the rest,” Scully confirms quietly.

“The rest?”

“Yeah, the rest.” She lifts her head off his shoulder and eyes him lovingly. Their faces are so close that the wisps of air he lets out tickle her skin, and Scully draws a deep breath like she’s going to plunge into the water. When he first feels her soft lips touching his skin, right where the bruise is already marring his forehead, Mulder stops breathing altogether. She kissed him like that dozens of times before, but somehow this time it feels different. Intimate. Like a prelude to something else. Something more.

Mulder closes his eyes, relishing her tentative caresses. She kisses his cheek then, very close to his mouth but not quite there, and as she’s about to do the same on the other side, he slightly turns his face, and their mouths meet full-on. It's a chaste kiss, their lips are barely touching, almost hovering over each other’s. Her breath is shallow, and Mulder almost stops breathing at all. She wonders if Mulder can hear her heart pounding fast and loud, as blood rushes to her face causing her usually pale cheeks to blush. Her whole body grows hot and tingles with excitement.

When they finally part, their foreheads touching, for several long minutes they don’t move at all. The kiss is mind-blowing. Intoxicating. A promise made under the guise of night, the one Mulder has a full intention of delivering.

“Jesus, Mulder,” she says in wonder, just before his mouth lands full force on hers. One of his hands slides up to cradle the back of her head. In return, she wraps her own hands around his neck, weaving her fingers through his silky strands. When they take a break to breathe, he doesn’t let go but holds her tightly, face buried in her hair. He can hear her ragged breathing, warm puffs of air on his neck.

Scully’s eyes flutter open when he loosens his grip on her, and she slides one hand down his arm to entwine their fingers.

“Wow,” is all he is capable of. His voice is husky, and his smile grows wider as Scully ducks her head. Mulder’s absolutely enamored with her apparent shyness. His logically-minded partner is all of a sudden rendered speechless. So simple, unpretentious, and amusing in her pure wonder.

“Yeah,” she whispers, and then lifts her chin and leans down to steal another kiss.

“What else is in that “the rest”, Scully?”

She snorts and once again hides her face in his t-shirt.

“We are not doing that in your mother’s place, on your tiny bed, in the house full of guests, Mulder.”

They both chuckle and he pulls her into a tight embrace, kissing her hair when Scully’s head returns on his shoulder.

“But the offer is on the table?”

“Mmm,” she hums in agreement. “You better pray there's no snow in the morning and the roads are clean, so we get back home fast and safely to try that “rest.”

“Far be it from me to tell you, Scully, how bad I’m at communing with deities.”

Scully shuts him up with another kiss.

“Oh, God.” Mulder breathes out.

“You learn quickly.”

“Can we do it again?”

“Absolutely.”

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

Everything changed. 

For better or worse is a pending question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Story #61 "What is a good teacher?"

Originally written as a CELTA admission essay.

What is a good teacher? What qualities one should possess to be considered a poster child for teaching? And who is to tell a good teacher from the bad one, and make the final decision? They say “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Perhaps, to an extent, it’s fair for a good vs. bad teacher as well.

When I did my TESOL course a year ago, I was asked to write an essay on my teaching philosophy, and at some point, I started contemplating what a good teacher was in my opinion, and whether I, myself, met those standards. I might repeat myself here with what I wrote in the past, but thinking back now, I stand by my words. 

I’m firmly convinced that a good teacher is a teacher who knows how to convey the information they prepared for the lesson and is able to present the material in a practicable and entertaining way, as well as be capable of engaging students in different communicative activities to provide them with vocabulary and grammar sufficient for successful communication. That kind of teacher knows the ultimate goal of any exercise they give and sets short-term and long-term aims for themselves and their students.

A good teacher knows how to encourage a student to use actively the learning strategies such as asking questions, making notes, and not being afraid of making mistakes. They can explain that experimenting with the language is impossible without mistakes, and get sure students feel confident enough in a classroom. As a rule, a good teacher sticks to the 80/20 strategy and knows how to reduce teacher talking time and increase student talking time.

They want to pass on not only their knowledge but their passion for languages and sow the seeds of the idea that any learning indeed is an exciting process a student can benefit from. A good teacher strives to show their students that there is no extrinsic motivation they need to study as they can find it within themselves. As a teacher, I try to be that source of motivation and enthusiasm for my students.

Story #5.

The CPE book review. David Duchovny “Bucky F*cking Dent”

Prompt⤵️

A psychological magazine is running a series of book reviews about family relationships. It has invited readers to send in reviews of fictional books about parent-child relationships. In your review describe the book briefly and the attractions it had for you. You should also explain why you feel the book could be appealing to a wide audience today.

--------------

David Duchovny is not your typical writer. Being internationally recognized as an actor, he both draws even more attention to his persona and scares away potential readers, sick and tired of performers scaling the heights of the literary world. As frustrating and pathetic as it has been at times, Duchovny puts the lie to an unendurable cliché with his novel “Bucky F*cking Dent”.

Ted Fullilove aka Mr. Peanut doesn’t live large, albeit being an Ivy League graduate, and wastes his exquisite education vending peanuts at the Yankees Stadium. He resides in a crummy apartment with his battery-operated goldfish in hope of writing the Next Great American Novel. Everything changes the day Ted gets a call delivering news about his estranged father dying of lung cancer.

Set In the 70s, the story is a real time capsule of that time period, which Duchovny treats with sweet loving care. Seemingly having nothing to do with love, “Bucky Dent” is your run-of-the-mill love story, nonetheless. Love for baseball. Love for a woman. Love for parents. Love for children. It's a story about the bond between a father and son and the damage wrought by the years of absenteeism. The story about healing, building trust, and gaining deeper relationship. Everything about this book has a ring to it. I couldn't stop reading.

Not afraid to fool around with words, generously seasoning the novel with his trademark humor, Duchovny comes across as a natural writer. Whether you are a dedicated baseball fan, someone with a weighty backpack of the complicated parent-child relationship, or just looking for a fresh read to ease your mind, the author will keep your interest maintained till the last line. Make sure your hands are not full, you might not be able to put the book away.

Story #25, which is another CPE article. Based on true events.

“It’s negative, no cancer markers found”, the doctor said, perusing the paper with dots and numbers which made no sense to me. I exhaled sharply, not realizing I was holding my breath. Like a prisoner awaiting execution. Like a wanderer praying for a fountain in a desert to quench his thirst. Inadvertently her words defined the happiest moment in my life. My child was healthy. I leaned against the wall feeling my legs going wobbly. Silent tears ran down my cheeks. Relief. Contentment. Delight. Joyfulness. Gratitude.

I couldn’t stop scrambling over my memories to the day when her words, so easily and sharply, shattered my world to pieces. It all started with medical advice to vaccinate a child. A one-year-old son of mine. Preliminary blood work was recommended to exclude medical conditions which might cause after-vaccination negative side effects. No big deal. We did it before dozens of times with my older kid. But that time some indicators in his blood turned out abnormally high pointing to organs where his body suddenly started failing him. Failing to cancer.

“It’s negative. It’s negative. It’s negative”, I kept echoing in my head time and again.  The walls of the fragile fortress of my mind were reconstructed back. Suffice it to say, the fact that my child was safe and sound was happiness in its pure form. That was a moment to treasure. The memory to cling to. Indeed, to catch these dear moments and keep them close to heart is worth doing.

To me, it was a major epiphany. One does not need to chase ethereal dreams and get on the top of their career to make every moment meaningful. No need to be married, get promoted at work, buy the latest Tesla to feel happy here and now. This day and age you are alive and healthy. That’s what matters.

Photo credit: me. My son Alex with his father, the best in the world husband. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Story #12

When you’re out of depth, draw strength from love. Love is something they can never take away from you.

There’s been said so much that it feels like there’s nothing left to say. We’re not free. We speak up – and they condemn us. We fall silent – and they condemn us. We protest - and they condemn us. We live our lives – and they still condemn us. We try to stay sane – and nobody cares. We go nuts scrolling down neverending newsfeed only to read how much they hate us. No matter how much we do or don’t do. It’s never going to be enough. It’s never going to be safe anymore.

I hate to think of my children being raised in a world where people hate people just because they belong to this particular country. I hate to think someone is going to hurt my kids just because... You would have thought that there are nations, there are countries, who have to understand us better than anyone else, as they’ve been there themselves, only to see how ridiculously short memory can be. Even before the gates of hell broke open, I couldn’t imagine hating someone… just because. But they can. This is our new reality.

My heart aches. Sometimes it hurts like hell. Other times it’s a dull throbbing pain. But it’s always there. I just hope there’s hope… for all of us.

How do I learn to live with that legacy now?

Story #8 "The 5-Second Rule"

It's a CPE-based book review of "The 5-second rule" by Mel Robbins.

Prompt:

A literary magazine has invited readers to submit reviews of non-fiction books. You decide to submit a review of a book that has influenced you greatly. Your review should briefly describe the book, explain what aspects of your life have changed after reading it, and assess the importance of non-fiction literature.

What if somebody told you that you are just 5 seconds away from a totally different life? From having a better job? From being a better parent? From succeeding in business? The answers to all the questions above are explored by Mel Robbins, an Ivy League-educated criminal defense attorney, in her book “The 5-second rule”. Given that the only thing standing in your way is yourself, Robbins, with her quick wit and fiery opinion, hands over to the readers a simple way to break the habit of hesitation and set a scheme for a better life.

The essence of the five-second rule is in the so-called metacognition tool that enables one to trick the brain into things it wouldn’t normally do. Once you receive the impulse to work towards something, start counting backward, and then physically act on it. The moment you miss that five-second window, your mind shuts down, as it is designed to stop you from doing anything uncomfortable, uncontrollable, uncertain.

I wish I could say that to me, the book was nothing short of an epiphany. That I could trace back every single problem and complaint to hesitation and silence. That applying Robbin’s concept to my day-to-day life presented me with a prospect to push through excuses to procrastinate far enough to see how much more life had in store for me. Nothing supernatural happened though. Nonetheless, following the scheme given in her book, I managed to set my perfect routine to have just the right amount of time to go over my morning procedures, make breakfast, take the kids to school, and embark on a working day with a smile on the face.

Robbin’s 270-page debut is like a shiny new thing that attracts lots of attention. That notwithstanding, it is a prime example of why non-fiction books should probably slim down. They all have pages and pages of testimonials turned into riveting, albeit juvenile, and overly repetitive stories. Aside from that, they are heavily seasoned with pretentious advertisements, giving readers a feeling of being marketed to, on each page. That’s precisely why services like Blinkist can summarize such books succinctly into fifteen-minute reads. You may be tricked into thinking that you are handed over a tool to enrich your life; however, for jaded readers, it might be no more than an old pseudo-psychological trick wrapped in a new package.

Story #23 which is another CPE Review.

The prompt: A literary magazine has invited readers to submit reviews of non-fiction books. You decide to submit a review of a book that has influenced you greatly. Your review should briefly describe the book, explain what aspects of your life have changed after reading it, and assess the importance of non-fiction literature.

Whether you are a devoted vegetarian, want to embrace a meat-free day a week, or just look for new flavor combinations, Jamie Oliver’s “VEG” cookbook fits the bill. Inventive and varied, albeit pure and simple veg recipes, will bring vibrant phenomenal dishes onto your dinner table. Oliver’s collection of craveable recipes, full of gorgeous photos, will get you salivating and eager to jump on cooking right away. 

Having an impressive range of dishes from all over the globe will not only excite your taste buds but also widen your recipe repertoire. There’s hardly a dish that doesn’t taste utterly delicious. Oliver’s cookery book is packed full of nutrient-rich and healthy meals. Each recipe is followed by the nutritional breakdown beneath, and the paragraphs are organized in an “easy to follow cooking directions” way. 

At first, I was certain that such food would never float my boat. I couldn’t be more in the wrong! The book inspired me to be braver and bolder in my own kitchen and prompted me to make a concerted move to up my veg intake. It came at the perfect timing. Naturally, I turned into a voracious veg eater in the blink of an eye without any great efforts and complicated schemes! Should I mention the apparent positive effects it had on my body and overall health? 

If you dare to look at a simple cookery book from another refreshing perspective, you’ll see that it is all about facts rather than just a list of ingredients and instructions. Facts, structured and organized, so this book could be your quick solution manual, a source of inspiration, or an answer to a nagging question. You name it! In a world where people hardly know what to believe anymore, they crave not far-fetched stories from someone’s figment of imagination but clear-cut and specific facts. Don’t skimp on facts. They’ll give you the perfect new flavor to taste. 

Story #18, that is another CPE article.

The prompt: An international travel organization is publishing a book entitled Travel Changes Lives and has asked for contributions. You decide to submit an article about a travel experience that has changed your life. You should briefly describe the experience, explain what made it so special, and assess the significance of the changes in your life as a result.

****

I was stuck. Not in heavy traffic or at the airport waiting for a layover, but in my life. Suspended between maternity leave one and maternity leave two, with the mantra playing like a broken record in my head: cook, clean, feed, repeat. I swear a ten-hour redeye would be a mix of joyfulness and buoyancy in comparison. So, when my husband asked if I wanted to embark on a solo trip, and despite having barely traveled on my own before, let alone in the middle of winter, I was uplifted by the idea so much that I could fight tooth and nail for it if needed.

Italy was cheap and relatively easy. I whiled away my days eating (amen to Italian food), praying (to Italian gods of food, of course), and loving. I was more full up with love than ever. I learned to love myself again. I woke up so early that the stillness hung over unpeopled avenues and squares, and then strolled down the riddle of streets to a bustling quarter of the city, checking cafes and shops strewn everywhere where my eyes landed. It became my daily routine for three days. Better yet, three lovely days. I was so overjoyed with my newfound self that even a noisy couple in an adjoining room of the hotel, which walls apparently had been made of cardboard, didn’t bother me in the slightest. 

One might think there was nothing special about my getaway, but let me remind the readers about two toddlers left at home, basically tied to me 24/7, and no personal space left. So every minute of that trip was counted, stored away in the memory box, and treasured. I was a walking commercial screaming out loud “good memories are priceless; for everything else there’s Mastercard.” For once, I could put myself first and feel no guilt over my decision. 

Everything good comes to an end, and so did my holiday, which I do not regret in the slightest. Eventually, it was that trip that helped me if not cut, then at least loosen the umbilical cord connecting me to my offspring. The distractive overprotectiveness reframed itself into mentorship and friendship. The kids discovered the kindergarten, and I rediscovered myself as a professional. We still spend plenty of time together as a family but now everyone is given enough space to breathe and explore the world around us.

Stories #46-47 are the X-Files fanfictions stories.

All good things happen on the couch, as well as bad ones.

Read it on AO3

Read it on AO3