#Branded Disposable Cups

[packagingbypolymer]

Stylish Eco-Friendly Cups & Accessories for Every Occasion

Every event can be served with simplicity and flair with these stylish cups and accessories. Our collection includes eco-friendly cups and Juice Bottles, combining practicality with modern design. Perfect for cafes, events, or everyday use, these durable options bring convenience to every setting. Shop high-quality packaging at Packaging by Polymer!

[britneyshakespeare]

idk who needs to hear this but period underwear is a godsend and if you can access and afford it, you should get some. it's way more comfortable and less nasty to deal with than disposable products

[swifly1]

Elevate Your Brand with Custom Disposable Cups: Buy Online Now!

In the competitive world of business, making a lasting impression on customers is vital. One way to achieve this is by incorporating custom disposable cups into your marketing strategy. Whether you're running a café, hosting an event, or simply looking for an eco-friendly way to boost your brand, custom disposable cups can be your secret weapon. In this article, we'll explore the benefits of custom branded paper cups, clear disposable cups, double-wall paper cups, and plastic cups with custom logos. Plus, we'll guide you on how to buy them online in the USA.

Custom Branded Paper Cups: Your Brand's Silent Ambassador

The power of branding cannot be overstated. Custom branded paper cups serve as subtle yet effective brand ambassadors. When your customers sip their favorite beverages from cups adorned with your logo and design, they become walking billboards for your business. These cups provide a visual reminder of your brand long after the beverage is consumed. It's an excellent way to increase brand recall and customer loyalty.

Custom Clear Disposable Cups: Showcase Your Products with Transparency

If you want to showcase your products while providing a convenient container for your customers, custom clear disposable cups are the answer. These cups offer transparency, allowing your customers to see the quality and freshness of the beverages you serve. They are ideal for businesses that want to make a statement about the quality of their offerings. Plus, with customization options, you can create a design that perfectly aligns with your brand image.

Double Wall Paper Cups: Heat-Resistant and Stylish

For businesses that serve hot beverages like coffee, tea, or hot chocolate, double wall paper cups are a must. These cups are designed with an extra layer of insulation that keeps the contents hot while protecting your customers from the heat. Custom printed double wall paper cups not only offer functional benefits but also allow you to showcase your branding and creativity.

Custom Logo Plastic Cups: Durability Meets Customization

Plastic cups with custom logos are a fantastic choice for businesses looking for durability and versatility. These cups are known for their sturdiness, making them ideal for both hot and cold beverages. Customization options mean you can choose the colors, designs, and logos that best represent your brand. They are perfect for outdoor events, picnics, and gatherings where safety and convenience are paramount.

How to Buy Custom Disposable Cups Online in the USA

Now that you're convinced of the benefits of custom disposable cups, it's time to explore how to buy them online in the USA. Here's a step-by-step guide:

Research Suppliers: Start by researching suppliers who offer custom disposable cups. Look for companies that have a reputation for quality and reliability.

Design Your Cups: Decide on the design, colors, and branding elements you want on your cups. Many suppliers offer design templates to make this process easier.

Choose Cup Types: Select the type of disposable cups that best suits your needs, whether it's branded paper cups, clear disposable cups, double wall paper cups, or custom logo plastic cups.

Request Quotes: Contact multiple suppliers and request quotes for your custom cups. Compare prices, turnaround times, and customization options.

Place Your Order: Once you've chosen a supplier, place your order. Make sure to provide all necessary design files and specifications.

Review and Approve: Before production begins, review the design proofs provided by the supplier and approve them to ensure everything looks as expected.

Receive Your Cups: Wait for your custom disposable cups to be manufactured and delivered to your doorstep. Be sure to inspect them upon arrival to ensure they meet your standards.

In conclusion, custom disposable cups are a versatile and effective tool for promoting your brand and enhancing customer experience. Whether you choose custom branded paper cups, clear disposable cups, double wall paper cups, or custom logo plastic cups, the impact on your business can be significant. By following the steps outlined above, you can easily buy these cups online in the USA and start reaping the benefits they offer. Elevate your brand and leave a lasting impression with custom disposable cups today!

Elevate Your Brand with Custom Logo Plastic Cups and Printed Paper Cups

In a world where branding is everything, businesses are continually seeking innovative ways to make a lasting impression on their customers. One such method is through custom logo plastic cups and custom printed paper cups. These versatile and cost-effective promotional items not only serve as functional drinkware but also act as a canvas for brand identity and marketing. Whether you are looking to boost your brand recognition or host a memorable event, custom disposable cups are the answer you've been searching for.

Buy Custom Logo Plastic Cups

Custom logo plastic cups offer a unique opportunity to promote your business in a practical and eco-friendly way. As the world becomes increasingly conscious of environmental concerns, these cups can be produced from recycled or biodegradable materials, ensuring that your brand aligns with sustainability goals. With your logo or design beautifully imprinted on these cups, you can create a lasting impression with every sip.

Buy Custom Printed Paper Cups

Custom printed paper cups are another excellent choice for businesses looking to enhance their marketing efforts. These cups are ideal for coffee shops, restaurants, and businesses that offer takeout services. By customizing paper cups with your logo, slogan, or any promotional message, you turn a simple cup of coffee into a powerful advertising tool. People love sharing their experiences on social media, and a well-designed paper cup can make your brand go viral in no time.

Custom Disposable Cups

One of the significant advantages of custom disposable cups is their versatility. They are perfect for a wide range of events, from corporate gatherings to weddings, birthday parties, and sports events. Whether you're serving hot or cold beverages, these cups can be tailored to your specific needs. Furthermore, they eliminate the need for washing and are easily disposed of, making cleanup a breeze.

Disposable Plastic Cups Online USA

Convenience is key when it comes to event planning and marketing. Thanks to the internet, you can now buy disposable plastic cups online in the USA with ease. This means you can order custom cups from the comfort of your home or office, saving time and effort. Online retailers offer a wide range of customization options, allowing you to choose the cup size, material, design, and quantity that suits your needs. This streamlined process ensures that you receive your custom cups promptly, so you can focus on your event or marketing campaign.

Logo Plastic Cups Online USA

Creating custom logo plastic cups has never been easier, thanks to the convenience of online ordering in the USA. Whether you need a small batch for a special occasion or a large order for a marketing campaign, online retailers can accommodate your requirements. Choose from various sizes and styles of plastic cups and upload your logo or artwork to create a design that represents your brand accurately. With fast shipping options, your custom logo plastic cups will be delivered right to your doorstep.

Shop Custom Printed Plastic Cups

To shop for custom printed plastic cups, all you need is an internet connection and a vision for your brand. The process is straightforward: select your cup style, customize it with your logo or design, and place your order. Many online retailers offer design assistance to ensure your cups look stunning. Once your order is placed, you can track its progress online and receive updates on delivery. This hassle-free experience allows you to focus on what matters most—promoting your brand and creating memorable experiences for your customers.

In conclusion, custom logo plastic cups and custom printed paper cups are valuable assets for businesses and event planners alike. They provide an opportunity to elevate your brand, engage with your audience, and make a lasting impression. With the convenience of online ordering in the USA, you can effortlessly acquire these customizable cups to enhance your marketing efforts or host unforgettable events. Don't miss out on this chance to showcase your brand in a creative and eco-friendly way. Start shopping for custom disposable cups today and experience the benefits firsthand.

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[thelov3lybookworm]

As a slut for angst today “tolerate it” has been stuck on a loop and now I am imaging an angsty fic where Az just slowly begins to forget about reader and she threatens to leave but he doesn’t take her seriously and is so utterly destroyed when he comes back home and she’s gone…

Like I feel like it’s on brand with him and his duty to his job and whatnot. Plus the lyrics are so him coded “while you were out building worlds where was I” / “took this dagger in me and removed it” LIKE HELLO???

(But I also love a good happy ending so I feel like if azzy groveled hard enough… 👀)

Tolerate it.

Summary: She is fed up.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: ehehehehehe angsttttt yummy yummyyyy

Enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n laughed at Feyre's pathetic attempts at skipping the large puddle on the ground accumulated due to the rains that had Velaris freezing overnight.

Feyre failed miserably, her boots and leggings getting wet from the splash that signalled her downfall against the watery enemy of hers. But Feyre was not fazed. She simply laughed alongside Y/n, her eyes crinkling as the two of them made their way back to the river house.

It was visible already now, Y/n could even make out the grains in the wood of the door as it opened, and her brother in laws, along with her mate, spilled out.

Y/n could see from the corner of her eyes as her sister lit up at seeing her mate, her husband and the father of her child. The moment his eyes met her, she took off, her arms spread as she ran up to him and threw her arms around his neck. Rhysand did not hold back either, clutching Feyre to her chest with as much enthusiasm as she held him.

It made Y/n smile.

Y/n then glanced behind the embracing couple to her mate, the overwhelming urge to hug him too and to claim him in front of anyone watching making her start walking towards him without even realising.

Which was reckless, as the moment he realised she was walking towards him to hug him? He took a step back.

Y/n knew that he hated being affectionate in front of others, but this was cruel.

So to not get embarrassed by his rejection, Y/n turned swiftly towards Cassian, her other brother in law, who stood not too far from where Azriel did, and hugged him instead.

Cassian, Mother bless his heart, did not even question it.

He wrapped his arms around Y/n and literally lifted her off the ground, cackling when Y/n's fist made contact with his shoulder over and over again as she demanded to be put down.

Y/n had to stop herself from thinking back to that day. She did not want to relive the pain she had felt, the sadness and anger.

Y/n watched his eyes fluttering, wondering if he was dreaming. Wondering who he was dreaming about.

It definitely was not her, that was for sure.

Y/n, feeing a little sadness taking root in her heart, returned to the portrait in her hands, questioning if it would even be worth it finishing it up when he sure as hell wouldn't even acknowledge it. Or her.

Y/n glanced at the paint supplies she had placed on the coffee table next to her, having wanted to capture a moment of him letting his guard down, of him being vulnerable using her best paints, knowing he would not care.

She guessed living for as long as he had, life and the small things didn't matter as much anymore. Maybe that was why he loved to go on the missions Rhysand, Y/n's brother in law, gave him.

It probably gave him the thrill nothing else did anymore.

With Y/n's sister just having given birth to the starlight of the court, Rhys had become more and more protective, sending his brothers and anyone and everyone at his disposal to check and report about every trivial thing that made his primal mate and father side get protective.

Slowly, Y/n reached for the brush that rested in the cup half filled with coloured water, deciding to finish the half done portrait. If he did not care... she did not now what she would do then, but she did know she was tired of being tolerated by him.

But what could she even do? It was not like she could just up and leave.

Y/n blinked.

Or... could she?

Y/n shook her head, as if to dislodge the though, and with a sigh, she let herself get lost in the soft skill of painting her sister had taught her long ago, when staying up and huddling under worn blankets was the only thing bringing any warmth.

Trying not to think about the fact that the last time she remembered him caring for her, genuinely caring for her, was only when the two had been in their early stages of relation ship and the mating bond was a very new experience to a newly made fae Y/n, she continued using the soft and strong, long and short strokes to finish up her latest masterpiece.

Of course, Y/n never would call herself a creator of masterpieces, but any and all art that included her perfect mate was destined to be a masterpiece.

Time lost its meaning, and all that mattered was capturing the perfect angle for his eyes, nose, lips, shoulder.

Nothing existed but Y/n, her art, and her muse.

Nothing existed but the soft rise and fall of his back as he lay sprawled on his stomach, the effortless way his wings draped across the whole bed, taking up space three wingless fae could have slept in.

Where Y/n would have slept in, on days when everything had been filled with stars and dreams, wrapped under his warm wing like it were a living blanket.

When he pretended he was nothing, absolutely nothing but her mate. Her husband. Not a spymaster, not a shadowsinger, not a brother. Just her mate, her lover.

Those days were far gone now.

•○🌑○•

Despite the fact that she knew he would most definitely not care, Y/n was excited.

And that was downplaying what she felt.

The wait was killing her, the amount of adrenaline in her bloodstream making her want to jump around to get rid of the energy that made her shiver, her limbs going cold and warm at the same time. She had to push her fists together and shove them between her thighs to keep them from shaking, which did not help at all.

So Y/n waited, her body clenched in anticipation as she stared at the doorway that led into the living room, a big grin on her face.

She glanced once at the sketchpad in front of her on the table, admiring her artwork for a moment.

She never liked whatever she made, always feeling like it lacked something. So for her to be excited to show off her art to her mate was a huge indication to how much she loved the portrait.

The familiar scuff of worn boots drew Y/n's attention, and she shot to her feet, pressing her fists to the back of her thighs.

It had become a habit of Azriel's, to purposefully make some noise before he stepped in view so as not to startle her with his appearance.

The action melted Y/n's heart every single time.

He stepped into view, as ethereal as the day Y/n had first seen him as a human, just as beautiful as he had looked that day as he tried to get comfortable on the small chair in the manor on the other side of the wall, just as loveable as that day when she had ended up losing her heart to the low born fae that should have intimated her.

He was fumbling with his armor, making sure it was all secured properly before he left for whatever mission Rhys assigned him for that day.

He glanced up just as he walked past Y/n to the kitchen counter, a small smile gracing his face before his attention was again diverted.

Y/n tried not to deflate at his lack of enthusiasm.

"Good morning love. Look-"

"Good morning Y/n." He cut her off, his voice void of emotions, as if he was tired of saying the same thing every morning and wanted to get it over with. He didn't even glance at Y/n as he said it, and Y/n pretended not to notice that he used her name instead of whatever endearing name he would have picked before.

"I will be on a scouting trip to Illyria, and after I have a meeting and dinner scheduled with Rhys and Cass, so I will be late coming home. Don't wait up."

Y/n's smile faded. "Don't wait up or stay out of my way?"

Azriel froze. "What?"

Y/n released a humourless laugh. "Nothing. Go have fun."

Azriel turned, giving her a hard look. "You know I would rather stay at home with you."

Doubtful.

Y/n so badly wanted to say it to his face, but she did not want to fight with him so early in the morning, so she sighed, smiled and nodded.

He started walking towards the door, and despite her anger, Y/n walked forward to kiss his cheek.

She did not miss how he recoiled.

Y/n masked the hurt before he could see it, and he gave her an awkward smile before he maneuvered to walk around her, careful not to brush against her.

Y/n watched him walk away, staring hard at the door even long after he'd left.

She then glanced at the portrait she had abandoned on the table, and, her heart hardening, turned away.

She was tired of having her love be tolerated, and she would not have it be that way anymore.

Either he accept her love the way it was, loud and clear, or he go find someone else.

And so, she turned, walked up the stairs to the bedchambers she shared with Azriel, and began to turn it back into just his bedchambers.

She would no longer be tolerated only because some godly entity thought she and him would make great, powerful kids and tied them together with a string.

She deserved to be cherished.

•○🌑○•

Part 2

Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

[barzzal]

call me crosby → interlude p.2

summary: Young, reckless, and rash, an unplanned pregnancy causes a massive rift in your relationship with then, cup-hungry 27 year-old Sidney Crosby. As he gets caught up in his own childish and selfish ways, confused to what was once certain, he lets you struggle alone. His absence reasons a miscarriage scare that leads you to end the relationship. Years after losing you, having to live a life that’s surrounded with the families his friends have built through the years embodies his greatest regret. Now with three cups and tons of awards at his disposal, Sid is given a chance to right his wrongs and win what was once the biggest loss of his life.

pairing: sidney crosby x fem!reader gen. warnings: language and theme, co-parenting, mentions of pregnancy & false miscarriage, sexual/suggestive themes, 18+ ch. warnings: angst, language, swearing, mentions of blood genre: hockey rpf, fluff, angst, kid-fic, exes to lovers length: series; 9.3k masterlist: the barn, series masterlist

note: the interlude is a two-part chapter dedicated for what happened between sidney and reader in the past and why everything had to happen ;) pls pls tread lightly as these chapters contain sensitive themes. you may stop reading at any time should it make you feel uncomfortable. this is just a reminder that you are still responsible for what you consume. all that aside, happy reading <3 (gif used: mine)

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. teasers, interviews, events, and the like that are included in the series are purely made for fictional purposes and do not/should not represent any of the names involved in real life. please proceed with caution.  

Your mind wanders to the not so distant past while you do your night time routine. You blankly stare at yourself absent-mindedly as you lather lotion on your hands and arms. 

It’s crazy how madly and deeply in love you and Sidney were a week ago. 

You can’t help but reminisce about the reckless night you and Sidney shared. The very night that you think might have led to such a life-altering event. 

“Babe?” you hear Sidney call for you from the bathroom. 

You have just gotten home from an annual fundraising ball that the Pittsburgh Penguins hold to support the foundations it is in partnership with. As the captain, and arguably the face of the franchise, Sidney’s hectic night also meant having to always stand wearing your impractical heels and a smile that has to be genuine enough– but not so much as to come off pretentious and inauthentic. 

While all of the actions you’ve shown were true, it was evident that the pressure to remain perfect was taxing. To say that you were tired would even be an understatement.

You feel a hint of hunger but even that won’t stand against your need for a good night’s sleep. 

As you lazily take off your earrings from one ear to another, you hum as a cue for Sidney to let you know whatever it was that’s going on in his mind. 

“How does this thing work exactly?” 

Baffled about the query, you lay your jewelry pieces flat onto the tray, and aim for the bathroom. You were still wearing the dress that elegantly clothed you for the entire night. It was a dress that Sidney had picked out himself. A dress that he knew would compliment and suit his girl just right. 

The sliding doors of the bathroom were already half-open thereby causing you to see Sidney’s reflection in the mirror; his brows furrowed in total and utter bewilderment. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, meeting his eyes in the mirror once he hears your voice. 

He turns to face your way and in his hand rests what seemed like a tiny, but regular, container of skin moisturizer you have been meaning for him to try. 

“You watch me get ready for bed for years now, honey.” you idly tell him. 

Sidney recognizes the exhaustion in your words, enjoying how your lazy voice register in his ears. He smiles. 

“I don’t want to risk doing it wrong,” he explains. “I looked up this brand on the internet and I must say, it costs a lot for such a tiny bottle.” 

You roll your eyes as you take the product from him. “It costs a lot because it also takes a lot to rescue,” you pause for effect as you playfully point at him, “that face.”

The two of you chuckle softly. Bare feet and about to get unready. 

“Have you washed your face?” you ask him. Sidney nods. 

“Alright. What else have you done?” 

He shrugs, glancing over to his side of the sink. You’ve laid out a few products for him. Some of them he’d already gotten used to and some that he’s still figuring out. Sidney tells you about the few products he has initially applied. 

“Could you please help me?” he asks in that voice he only uses with no one else but you. 

You sigh dreadfully, eyes already closed with how tired you were. You lean your head on his shoulder, mumbling your words. 

“But I’m so sleepy.” you let him know. After having a few seconds of rest, you add, “I haven’t even gotten my makeup off yet.” 

Sidney knows you were beat. Even if he doesn’t tell you, he truly appreciates the great lengths you go for him. You don’t have to do it, but you did it all just the same for as long as it involved Sidney.

“I’ll take it off,” he volunteers. 

“Pfft.” you snicker a foolish laugh. “I bet I can get a goal past you faster than you can learn how to take my makeup off. Properly.”

“Come on,” he says, putting his hands on your waist, giving it a good squeeze. “You got to at least let me try. I know you’re tired.”

You give him a smile but reply in a commanding tone, “Promise you’ll do it like I do?” 

Sidney nods, ready to do after your bidding. “Religiously.” 

Once you agree, you let him gently lift you up the counter next to the sink so as to let you be in a comfortable position. By the looks of it, the odds of you falling asleep were high and Sidney just couldn’t bear letting you stand on your feet after you’ve murdered them with those ridiculously high heels.

“Nooo,” Sidney coos. “Don’t fall asleep.”

With closed eyes, you softly chuckle. “Mkay.”

He glances over to the rack where you keep your nighttime essentials and asks, “What do I do first?” 

Sidney willfully follows every instruction you give him as you patiently guide him throughout the process. His endless musings, in the hopes of keeping you awake, have evidently worked despite your exhausted state. 

You didn’t want to drift off anyway. You were in total bliss feeling his touch; soft with care – delicate. Sidney’s fingers graze onto your skin ever so lightly as he applied every product. He did what he had promised you. He did your nighttime routine religiously. 

His movements were put to a stop. You hear a soft clink of the product onto the tray; a sign that he was through. 

Before you get to open your eyes, Sidney leans towards you. He then lightly pressed his lips against yours so as to give you a peck. 

He plants a couple more before he eventually breaks away. 

“Done.” He says enthusiastically, seeing you with a wide smile on your face.

“Yeah?” you briefly open your eyes, Sidney coming into full view. You see him half-naked with only his pajama bottoms on. His chest was rose-colored; perfectly in contrast with the shade of his stubble.

You take a quick glance at yourself in the mirror so you could get a peak of what he’s done. Huh. Pretty good. 

You turn your head back and face him wearing a tight-lipped smile. 

“Like it?” he asks. “How did I do?” 

“You did fine.” you kid. 

Sidney pretends to be appalled. “Fine? Just fine?” 

“Uh-huh.” you tease. “Not bad for a first timer.”

“A’right.” he says with a smirk. “I know I could’ve done a lot worse than a ‘not bad’ so I’ll take it.”

“I’m just playing with you.” you tell him. “You did a good job.”

You open your arms, asking for a hug. Obligingly, he leans in and lets you wrap your arms around his nape. Your hands then found their way onto his face. Your fingers graze over rough stubble just as your eyes meet Sidney’s. 

With your thumb landing on his lips, you gently pull Sidney’s face closer so you could lock him in a kiss. Gentle and sweet. Passionate despite being done swiftly. You feel each other’s warmth– with your mouth and your bodies pressed so close together. 

Once the two of you break away, you say, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

His left hand removes some errant strands that lazily fashioned the side of your face. The other makes its way on the small of your back, pulling you even closer. 

Before the two of you dive into another kiss, Sidney says, “Thank you for letting me.”

𖥸

When Sidney asked you to move in with him, the first thing he did was to start a major renovation of his home. You were not a fan of it because of the obvious reason; it was unnecessary. But alas, Sidney had his ways. He told you it was not just his home anymore. It was yours. “Ours.” was what he said. 

It didn’t matter where the two of you were. Sidney had countless away games and series, and you had your fair share of business meetings on your end. But no matter where the two of you were, regardless of being away, your togetherness was kept by the home you have built with him. After all, Sidney’s home was just a massive block of building situated on acres and acres of land, standing still and lonely. 

Then came you. 

He stripped his home clean when you moved in. Little by little, you were able to incorporate yourself into his home. You had a say in every change; what has to go and what can stay. What paint colors to use and what kind of furniture he should get. Sidney did nothing but say "yes" the entire time. He wanted you to feel at home as much as he did. Neither the place nor the big still and lonely building did matter because he had you. For Sidney, you were home.

From the gorgeous outdoor landscape, classic hardwood floors, to high and white ceilings, Sidney wanted every corner of his home – inside and out, to have a touch of you. Only you. 

It was his futile attempt at a romantic gesture. He wanted to be reminded of you each time he was in it. Because just like what he said, no matter what happens, wherever he may be, you were the person he knew he’s always going to come home to. 

Looking back, it hasn’t occurred to you just how high and white the ceilings were. How distant everything seemed. Without Sidney, all of it seemed dull and ordinary. You just did not realize it until you spent the last several hours staring at that boring ceiling, lying in an all too cold bed that has seen the best and the worst of you and Sidney.

In spite of your still heavy and tired eyes due to all the crying, you find yourself reaching for your phone yet again. Maybe this time you’d get an answer.

“Please pick up.” you utter as you try to numb yourself with the endless ringing of the line. It was getting really late. Even with what happened earlier, you still wanted to hear his voice. That way you’d know he was okay. That way you’d know he was coming home. 

With time feeling like eternity, you managed to give it some thought. Maybe it was your fault. Maybe he was right. You did attack him; one way or another. You could have told him some other time when it felt right or when neither of you were tired. Maybe that way, he could have reacted differently. 

The weight you feel in your chest must have been incomparable to how he felt. It came to him unsuspectedly. The least you could have done was lay it all down easy. But no, you chose to put him in a difficult position where he has to choose between his present and the future. An ambush that was undeniably uncalled for.

Maybe, at some point, you forgot Sidney had a life where you didn’t belong. Maybe that was where you went wrong. Sidney had a life. You made him yours. 

Your hand travels down to your stomach so as to remind you of what life already is – what life will be. Sidney knew you were carrying his child and the first thing he did was leave. For somebody else, it would have been their cue to go. But here you were, instead of feeling all the right things you should be feeling, still waiting for him. 

If your calculations were right, it was another hour before Sidney finally came home. You turned away from the bedroom door and pretended to be asleep. He was quiet but his presence said otherwise. There wasn’t much movement being that Sidney was stoned at the door looking across the room. Looking at you. 

Out of all the years that the two of you have spent together, this was the first time he actually did not feel like coming home. 

Instead of the comfort he’s always felt each time he opened the door to your shared bedroom, Sidney felt unsure. It was as if he almost did not want to come home at all. Because you, who once brought him peace, was the very person who handed onto him a havoc served on a silver plate. 

Sidney no longer minded the fact that he knew you waited for him. He knew you were still awake yet the first thing he chose to do was head towards the bathroom. The clear cut sound of the door coming to a close sends shivers down your spine. You try blinking it away, but the tears just start coming. 

When the bathroom door opens, you squeeze your eyes shut knowing what’s to come next. It was a while before Sidney decided to come to bed. You feel it shift with the weight of having Sidney in it. 

Normally, his arms would magically snake its way to your body and lock you in an embrace. That was the only way for Sidney to get a comfortable sleep. Now, he stares at the ceiling for a good minute or so before he shifts and looks at the back of your head. 

He did not want to say a thing though he felt like he needed to. 

It was wrong for him to feel this way. He knew that. But now that he’s conflicted, Sidney knows he’s going to have to give himself some time. Perhaps, even some time away. From this house. From you.

He takes a deep breath; long but subtle. The one you make when you’re trying to calm yourself before diving off a cliff. Sidney wishes he could come out of his. To be able to swim back to his surface. Because as hard as it was to admit, you were drowning him. 

“Will you ever change your mind?” he breaks the ice and asks. 

Despite being nervous to what his answer might be, you return the question. 

“Will you change yours?”

He doesn’t say a word. And with that, you knew Sidney’s silence was his answer. 

You do the same. 

Though there was something he did want to let you know. 

I don’t want to have to lose you. 

But instead, he says, “I don’t want to lose you.”

You stifle a sob as a tear meets your pillow. 

You didn’t answer. You didn’t answer not because you didn’t want to. You didn’t answer because you were afraid that you couldn’t think of any. 

You hate to think you’d have to lose one another over the very thing that was supposed to make the two of you whole. The truth is, you were scared about so many things. You just didn’t know you’d have to be scared about losing Sidney. 

𖥸

A few days have passed since you and Sidney got to talking. It was barely one being that all you’ve done was fight. It was already more than just an argument and time has been nothing but cruel in letting you know that the sudden change you see in him now is his way of telling you that the both of you are not and will never be on the same page. 

Sidney chose to drown himself more in his Summer commitments. The last thing you heard he was off signing brand deals and staying a lot longer at the club. Now, while he’s busy playing in between putts and pucks, you’ve gone to another appointment and have been taking good care of yourself and your baby to the best of your abilities. 

You were at the task of putting away the lillies you have bought on your way home when you hear Sidney’s car enter the driveway. It would not be long before he opens the door. You have not really thought of what to say to him. As much as you try to understand where he’s coming from, you badly hope he does the same thing to you and simply honor what’s already on the table. 

The sound of keys being tossed onto the bowl rings throughout the hallway; commencing Sidney’s arrival. You see him enter the room in his usual golfing attire, lugging his equipment behind him. 

You have not felt the thick air of uncertainty for a while and you realize it was because he was not around. You offer him a tight-lipped smile once you meet his eyes. 

“Hey, you.” you call for him in a tone that lets him know you were open to talk should he want to discuss things with you. 

Sidney declines your invitation through his own, “Hi.” 

You feel a pang in your chest so you try and make up for it by putting the rest of the mess sitting on the island away. Sidney, on the other hand, sees what you’re trying to do. Nevertheless, he ignores it. Instead, he makes his way around you, heading towards the fridge to get a drink. 

You give up.

“Is this really how you want things to be when you come home?” you ask.

Sidney sighs, letting your words sit in the air. He lets the sound of the water hitting the glass mock you as an answer. You watch him drink its entirety with a stern face, unbothered to even look you in the eye.

A month ago you can’t even picture him behaving like this. Time is fickle, so they say. But it is just as unpredictable and brutal. 

“Sid,” you call, failing to mask the sound of your voice nearly breaking. Of course, you were desperate to have a decent conversation with him. You miss him. And even though you know you would not change your mind anymore, the best thing you can do is to at least have the chance to change his. 

“Don’t you have anything to say to me?” you reach for his hand to hold it. 

For a moment, you see his eyes soften. He looks down on your hands. You were scared that he was going to dismiss you but much to your relief, Sidney held your hand instead. He tenderly rubbed the back of your hand whilst he tried to find the words to utter. 

This was one of the things you miss. Sidney’s touch. He’s always had a way with it. Nothing really mattered for as long as Sidney held you. You felt so secure – safe from anything that may come your way. For as long as you were with Sidney, you needn’t have to feel scared. 

Just when you feel a sliver of hope, you see a somber expression in his face the moment you look back at him. 

“I don’t have anything new to say.” he nearly apologizes. 

Disappointment now printed all over yours, you choose to let him know of what kept you busy. 

“I went to Claire and got a sonogram.” you tell him, forcing out a smile. 

You opted not to get one the first time despite Claire’s advice. You wanted to have Sidney with you in that room. But now, it was painfully clear that it might never happen. Not to mention the fact that his child is continuing to grow regardless of what he had to say about it. 

Sidney gladly lets your hand go so as to caress his nape. When he falls silent, you continue nonetheless.

“The baby is healthy.” you add.

Shrugging the latter off, he asks, “What about you?”

He still cared about you. At least that was there. 

Is it really too much to wish he’d feel the same way for his child?

“I’m fine.” you answer, uninterested with your own well-being.

Sidney says nothing else but nods, dismissing whatever you still have to say concerning his unborn child. 

“Won’t you at least see it?” you try for yet another time. 

Sidney’s jaw clenches but he chooses to let it go. He didn’t come home to fight. 

He pays you a meaningful look, devoid of the fact that the said sonogram was already pinned on the fridge along with a few old polaroids that the two of you intentionally kept for each other’s sake. 

“I told you, I don’t have anything new to say.” he repeats himself. “And I still won’t even if I see it.” 

It was clear that the two of you were trying to make ends meet. But Sidney was not trying hard enough.

“Then what are we doing here?” 

You were offended, of course. You were utterly hurt by his appalling insensitiveness. Sidney did not give even an inch of care but that shouldn’t justify acting too much of an ass about it.

“Am I supposed to wait for you to change your mind before I continue carrying your child?” you continue, “I’m pretty sure pregnancy doesn’t work that way, Sid.”

Do you take him for a fool? He thinks. 

You touched a nerve, causing Sidney to lose himself again. 

“Who even told you I wanted one?” he retorted. 

What does he think would happen after sex? A gala? A dinner party?

You need not stress on the obvious. Besides, doing so would just take you miles down the surface you’ve barely even scratched. Dealing with a closed-minded Sidney and piling on his share of negativity would just be counterproductive. 

“I’m not changing my mind, Sidney.” you firmly state.

The time Sidney was gone did not make you want the things he wanted. It just made you certain – so sure, that you want nothing else but this baby. And you know there was no other way out. 

“Are you with me on this or not?” 

He scoffs at the thought of you making him choose. 

“You’d really go that far, wouldn’t you?” 

“That far?” you scorn.

“Sidney, that ‘far’ we happened to be discussing right now, is a life together!” you stress, pointing a finger at his chest. “So, yes. I am willing to go that far.”

Sidney could not find the words to save his own cause. But regardless of the problem he still hopes you can set aside, he knows that you will eventually come to your senses and choose the life that you were already living with him.

However, the wounds were barely even healed and here you were, deciding to pick at it again.

“I told you to come back only when you’re ready to be an adult about this and face it with me.” you order. “I don’t need you starting a fight because you know I will never change my mind.”

“Well, you know what? Neither will I.” Sidney shakes his head, adamant to bow down in favor of your will. 

“There. I said it.” he adds, thinking of the night you told him about your pregnancy. 

He sees your eyes watering and he knew it would be enough for you to pull him back in. But this wasn’t like the other times. You wanted different things and he did too. Maybe that’s how it should be. Maybe it isn’t worth prolonging what has clearly ended.

“You’re right.” he says, “I shouldn’t have come home in the first place.”

Suffice it to say that he did not deserve to feel half of what you have been feeling, you hold him back once he starts retreating.

“W-Where are you going?” 

“Geno’s.” He shortly answers. “I cannot be on board with something you chose to decide all on your own.”

You fall silent as it was not the response you were expecting, especially not from Sidney. So instead of speaking for you and his unborn child, you watch him leave once again. 

𖥸

Sidney made sure he was kept preoccupied for a reason. It was evident that you were making him choose. And despite him denying, he is certain that regardless of the path he’d be taking, you’ll choose to have the baby and leave the life you have already built with him. 

He hated the possibility that you might leave him for something that was unplanned. Something that could have been prevented by a birth control shot. But no, it didn’t. It frustrates him that you won’t take the only ‘out’ he’s got to offer. It frustrates him even more to know that regardless of your choice, he just could not see himself being tied up to a commitment he knows he will never want.

Yes, he may have wanted and hoped for a life with you but that was it. Only you. He did not need anything more. On top of it all, he’s scared. He’s scared because he knows that he almost hated you for it. 

You have reached an impasse and you and Sidney both know it. It was just a matter of who’s going to be the one to break it to the other. He doesn’t want to be the one to do so, hence why he chose to leave. 

Sidney was a man that loved calculation. Everything had to be precise. Otherwise meant having to give a shot at failure. That was how he felt for the majority of his career. He did excel at school but it did not challenge him. It took less energy and made him less driven. He wanted to acquire so much and be so much more within so little time. Wishful thinking and ambitions aside, he made everything he wanted happen. 

He just wishes he could figure this one out before it’s too late. 

Geno had his feet up on the couch, hands were glued on the game controller, yelling at the TV. It was another game that he had one of Anna’s nephews teach him. He had nothing to do for the entire day and he was a firm believer that wasting time was not really wasted – only if you make it count. 

The count, if you dare ask, was a 2-4 game versus some kid on the internet. N8Dawg29.

Geno’s shouting at the TV was put to a stop when the doorbell rang. 

“Lucky bastard.” he says, throwing the controller elsewhere. 

Given the moment’s notice, he wasn’t expecting anyone. He had no idea who it was at the other side of the door. By the time he opens it, Sidney’s face comes into view. 

“Sid!” he says his name with a giant smile on his face. The very same smile that was washed away by the look Sidney had on his. Lost. 

What brings you here? was what he wanted to ask. But given the way his friend looked, it was apparent that something big was bothering him.

“What’s wrong?” 

Concern traveled to Geno’s eyes when Sidney spoke of your name as an answer. 

“Is she alright?” he asks him, opening the doors of his home wide for Sidney. 

Sidney looks him in the eye and says, “She’s pregnant.”

As the brand new information hit him, Geno begins to realize that such news might not have been well-received by Sidney. 

Uncomfortable and panicking as to how he’d make light of the situation, Geno asks, “Who’s the father?”

𖥸

Geno knew he needed reinforcement. N8Dawg29 would have to wait. 

No, it wasn’t because Geno was losing. It was because he had more important things to tend to. Let him leave it at that.

Two crystal clear snifter glasses were pinched in between his fingers whilst his other hand held a bottle of premium scotch. He takes long strides across the room, making his way towards the lesser halves of the Pittsburgh Penguins’ three-headed monster. 

The Captain had just broken the news to Kris, but unlike Geno, the defenseman took his time before sharing his two cents. Sidney spared no detail as to what happened. The truth that he didn’t want a baby, and the ugly truth that you did. 

Just like how he looked in front of Geno, the expression on Sidney’s face was more than enough for Kris to deduce that congratulations weren’t in order. Despite him being happy to learn about your pregnancy, Kris just couldn’t let Sidney feel as though his feelings were invalid. 

Quietly, whilst the biggest names of the team sat together, the weight of the elephant in the room was still borne solely by the team’s captain. Once each of them was able to take a sip from their respective glasses, it was Kris’ turn to ask a question. 

“Does she really intend to keep the baby?” 

Sidney nods as the alcohol runs down his throat. 

“Actually, she made me choose,” he says. “–said she’d do it with or without me.”

“Are you going to let her?” 

Sid meets Kris’ eyes, “What would you have me do?”

Kris takes a deep breath, conflicted as to whether he was in the position to say what’s in his mind. “You know it really doesn’t matter what I think. It is still your decision.” 

“Of course, it matters.” Sidney counters. You’re a father. He wanted to add.

“What is it that you want to hear from me?” 

“Just hit me. Tell me how you feel. I can handle it.” 

“All right,” Kris puts down his glass thereafter clasping his hands. “Are you a hundred percent sure that you don’t want to be a Dad?” 

Sidney finds it hard to answer. But he knows it wasn’t because there may be a slight chance that he would eventually want to be one. It was mainly because he knew saying it out loud would paint him in a bad light. He can’t afford to look selfish in front of his friends.

Kris questions, “So, you’re telling me you haven’t pictured yourself with a child? Ever?” 

“Of course, I have. It’s just– I don’t want to have one now.” Sidney feels like a fool for saying it out loud. “You know I love kids. I have always been great with them. You know how I am with Alex, right?” 

Sidney looks at Geno once he speaks but all Geno did was avoid his gaze. Even he didn’t favor how Sidney had to bring up his godson as an example.

Instead, Geno asks, “Then what is the problem?” 

“I don’t think I can be a good father. I’m afraid I’d screw it up.” Sidney fiddles with his fingers. 

“How can you be so sure you won’t be a good father?” 

Sidney sighs, “How did you know?”

“No one knows they’re going to be a kick-ass Dad until they become one.” Kris says. “I couldn’t even figure out how diapers work the first time I had to do it, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to be a good Dad.”

Sidney runs a hand through his naked hair. “Maybe that’s it.” 

Kris’ eyebrows furrow, waiting for Sidney to continue. 

“How can I be good at something I don’t even want to become?” He looks at both of his greatest friends. 

He continues. “It’s different with you and Catherine, Kris. You both wanted Alex. You both wanted kids. I’m not quite sure I can even begin to like the idea of having my own and yet, here it is – already tearing me and Y/N apart.”

Kris takes a deep breath. 

With his words subtly laced with judgment, he says, “There is only one thing you can do.” 

“What?” Sidney raises a brow.

“You have to let her go.” Kris continued. “Even if it means she’d have to do it alone.” 

Kris respects Sidney for not wanting to have a child. He knows he’d have to understand where Sidney’s at in life. If he says he’s not ready to father a child, then so be it. But that does not give him a pass on being a selfish prick who he’d still have to understand in exchange for you and your unborn child’s sake. You were as important as Sidney is to Kris. He wouldn’t simply allow Sidney to take everything he could while you empty yourself for him. 

Sidney asks yet another appalling query. 

“Do you really think she’d choose it over me?” 

Kris answers with a knowing look on his face, “Any responsible adult would choose a baby over you, Sidney.” 

“Kris,” Geno puts his glass down, interfering. 

“What does that supposed to mean?” Sidney takes offense.

“What did you expect me to say, anyway? Did you come here expecting I will coddle you? That Geno and I will help you be this irresponsible?” Kris tells him off, switching glances between the two of them.

Geno calls him in a definitive tone. “Tanger, stop.” 

“No,” he stressed. “The two of you came to my house asking for my help. Here it is. I am a father. It’s one thing to feel unready for such an immense responsibility. I get that. But, it seems to me that you’re seeing this predicament as a game you just have to win no matter what. That kid isn’t even born yet and here you are, antagonizing him for breaking your relationship. That is your child, Sidney. Your child with the woman you claim to love. Even if you don’t want it, the least you could do is acknowledge that it’s here. It’s not just a thing you have to tolerate.” 

Sidney and Geno fall silent. 

Kris gathers himself and stands, aiming to leave the room. 

“Let her go, Sidney.” he recapitulates. “You know you’re not the person she needs right now.”

𖥸

Three days have gone since Sidney left home. You haven’t gotten enough sleep since then. You’ve tried busying yourself tending to some house chores but none of it sufficed. Tiring yourself did not help in your pursuit to keep your mind from thinking of him.

As much as you wanted to, regardless of your doctor’s orders, you just can’t function bearing a magnitude as heavy as the one you’re facing with Sidney, hanging over your head. Here you are, barely functioning through a day, how could you possibly picture a life without him in it? It seems as though the past is now a blur. But then again, so is your future. 

“Hey,” Cath’s voice soothes you from the other end of the line. “How are you?”

You almost forgot that you were on a call with Catherine. 

Dissociated, you answer, “I’m… I’m doing okay.” 

“Are you sure?” she asks for the hundredth time. 

For the past three days, you’ve always answered that you were. Perhaps, it was for you to save face in the hopes of seeing Sidney again. 

“No.” you finally admit despite Catherine already knowing, “I’m trying.”

“I know you are.” she says. 

It seems as though she wanted to say something else but didn’t know how. Sidney, apart from staying with the Malkin’s has gotten the liking of dropping by her house to see her husband. It had been a day since the first time they had talked about you. Catherine knew little of it but she knew Kris didn’t exactly agree with whatever Sidney had told him. 

Finally, she lets out a sigh, “Listen, Sidney’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat at the mere mention of his name. With a glint of hope in your voice, you ask to confirm. “He is? How is he?”

“Well, to be honest, not good.”

You find comfort at the thought. You might still have a relationship worth saving. 

“Do you want to speak with him? I can–” Catherine offers but you’re quick to decline. Maybe some time to himself will do you both good. 

“No don’t, Cath. Really, it’s fine.” you say with a sad smile. “Knowing that he’s there is enough.”

Silence sits on the line for a moment. You have always waited for Sidney to come home for the majority of your entire relationship. It didn’t matter if he was gone for days or even more than a week; he came home every time. That thought alone made the wait bearable. Now, the uncertainty of it all just makes the wait longer because unlike before, you’re no longer sure he’ll be coming home. 

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” Cath pulls you back from your thoughts. The truth is, you haven’t. 

“Have you been eating? What about your medications? Are you taking them?”

“Well, yeah. I am. I am taking them.” Sometimes on an empty stomach. Sometimes you miss it by an hour or two. 

“Have you slept at all today?” 

“I… Not really. I haven’t been sleeping well. There’s a lot going on in my mind.” you say as your eyes flicker to your surroundings. You then realize that the chaos in your mind has begun to translate into your home. Your sight eventually falls onto the load of dishes you’ve yet to tend to and others already cleaned waiting to be put away. 

“I know. But you need to take it easy.” she reminds you. Catherine has a point. 

“Please take care of yourself, Y/N.” you hear her sigh. “Your baby needs you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.” you earnestly tell her, adding that Claire’s stopping by in an hour or two. “A friend is coming over to keep me company tonight. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

However, just as you stand whilst talking, you feel a sudden surge of sharp pain in your abdomen. 

You find yourself holding your lower stomach, unsure if it was something to be concerned about. Claire has informed you about the minor discomforts you were inevitably going to feel as your body adjusts to being pregnant, but was it supposed to hurt this much? 

Catherine calls your name when you failed to answer. 

“Yeah?” 

You start to walk, aiming towards the kitchen. Your palm rests on your abdomen in an attempt to relieve yourself of the pain you were still feeling. 

You hold the phone with a bit more pressure, you hear Cath ask, “How are you really? You know you can tell me stuff. I know it must have been tough having to deal with Sid.” 

You sigh in an effort to alleviate the pain. Your eyes begin to water by the mention of his name. It has been tough for you. If Cath could see it, how come Sidney couldn’t?

“I miss him, Catherine.” 

“I know you do.” she replies sympathetically.  “How can I help you?”

“I don’t know.” you reply as your breath becomes labored. “Just– , please tell him to come home.”

You shut your eyes, pressing on your stomach once you reached the counter. 

“We need him.”

𖥸

Was Kris right? Sidney was deep in thought as the paddle hit the ball from one end of the table to another. Geno hits it right back. Sidney does the same. They go on and on uttering no words but mere sighs and labored breathing as they play the game of table tennis. 

Even if Kris was right, he knew it was still going to be Sidney’s decision. If you yourself could not convince him of the life he so clearly does not want, what makes Kris think he can do otherwise?

Despite the heated conversation, Sidney was still thankful Kris had a gym in his basement. He needed to clear his mind; something Geno understood. Sidney rarely gets upset, but most of the times he did, it was for the right reasons. Now, however, Geno wasn’t sure.

“What are you thinking, Sid?” Geno asks as he recovers after missing the ball. 

Through his still labored breathing, Sidney puts the paddle down and briefly looks at him. He shakes his head, not devoid of a single thought - but overwhelmed by millions of it concerning: you. 

When he doesn’t hear a word from Sidney, he finally asks, “It’s been three days. Don’t you want to come home?” 

Sid plays it off with a grin, “Why? You’re getting sick of me?”

Geno rolls his eyes, “Yes, what are you gonna do about it?”

The two of them share a brief laugh, trying to lighten the weight bore by the topic of you. 

“I don’t know, man.” This time, Sidney tells him the truth. He does not know. He had hoped to know by being away from you. But if asked the same question of whether he wants the life that you do, he still has the same answer. 

Before he can say another word, Geno speaks as if he read Sidney’s mind.

“If it’s not entirely a yes, it’s a no, Sid.” he tells him. “You’ve got only two ways out of this. To stay or to leave.”

Sidney’s taken aback. 

To stay would mean to live a life off his books; blind and unplanned. He’d be traversing an environment completely foreign and unknown. To have a child of his own. To have a family. Forever. 

And on the other, to leave would mean to accept the gut-wrenching picture of a life without you; to embrace it through and through. And maybe hope that someday, it will eventually get easier. 

Before Sidney could even answer, the Letangs came rushing into the room. 

“We gotta go,” Kris announces with urgency, the key to his car already in his hand. 

Sidney’s eyes fall onto a frantic Catherine who was clutching onto her phone - voice trembling as she says, “It’s Y/N.”

𖥸

Sidney has never feared anything in his life. Between having to leave home at such a young age and thereafter fighting the horrible concussions that cost him almost fifty games off of his career, he has never felt as frightened as he did when it was you who was already on the line. He admits that he was not in the right mind to deal with what you have told him, but the fear of losing you was so insurmountable that it made being a father seem less terrifying than he could have possibly imagined. 

“Where is she?” 

“Is she okay?”

“Have you seen Claire?”

Wanting to breathe became obsolete once Sidney chose to speak all aforementioned. He held Cath’s shoulder, almost shaking her, in an attempt to get an answer. 

“Claire took care of everything. She’s fine.” she says, relaying what Claire had told her. 

He lets go a sigh of relief. He runs his fingers through his evidently unkempt hair – and asks, “What about the baby?”

If the record was right, it was the first time he’s ever asked about your baby. 

Despite how Cath felt about Sidney, she did not simply have the answer.

Worriedly, he walks past her and looks through the small window of the lounge door. He sees a handful of people, mostly visitors. Sure – there were doctors going from one side of the room to the other wearing their coats and clipboards in hand, talking. Always talking. Giving out information, whether well-received or heart piercing. It was a whole ‘nother job that seemed so ordinary. A whole lot more than what is perceived.

Sidney wanted to go to you. He wanted to find you. But how can he do that if doing so would mean causing more risks than he’s already had? Because even if it was the least of his worries, Sidney could not possibly handle more attention from the crowd. 

It was exactly the ugliness you had to bear being with Sidney. Being with him meant having to consider who he was inside and outside of the rink; that your personal life is inevitably tangled with the one he had with his skates on. There was no double life with Sidney. He has successfully integrated the two so he gets to live both. As for you, you were the tide that went along with it — the tide that kept his boat afloat. 

𖥸

Claire hoped she wouldn’t be spending the night in the hospital. But then came you. 

She was glad she still had the spare key you’ve given her to your home. Between scrambling to find it amidst her million other keys and finding you sitting on the cold floor of the kitchen, holding your stomach, with blood apparent in your clothing, Claire was just glad that she got to you the soonest you needed her to. 

“My baby–” was the first thing you told her as you tried speaking in between sobs. 

You looked at her, tears running down your cheeks, once she had approached you. 

“It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” she repeatedly told you. 

Her eyes fell onto where your hand was. Truth be told, she has never been this scared in her life. It was crazy how she simultaneously knew and didn’t know what to do. It was you. Your safety and the life of the child you’ve yet to birth, placed unexpectedly in her hands. Despite all that, she was certain that she’s not about to lose anyone. Neither you nor your baby. 

“Please don’t pass out.” she murmured more to herself as she held your face. “Stay with me, alright? You guys are gonna be okay. You’ll be okay.”

Claire stayed true to her word and took care of you. You were settled in a private room, resting. It was evident that all the emotional and physical turmoil you’ve been trying to suppress has finally caught on and got the better hold of you. Scarily so, despite the night’s ordeal, you were now safe. You and the baby. 

You were asleep when Claire left you in your hospital room. She still has a few of your documents that needed sorting out. Well, that and having to deal with the man – with both of his hands placed on his waist, pacing – waiting for her at the end of the lobby. 

“How is she?” Sidney asks Claire the moment he was within hearing distance. 

She ignores him. Instead, she goes inside the waiting room and acknowledges the presence of Catherine alongside Kris and Evgeni. 

“How is she?” Catherine shoots the same question. 

Claire initially answers with a nod then proceeds, “She’s going to be fine. We just need to let her get some rest.” 

Cath nods as well as the others. 

“And the baby?” 

Claire doesn’t give a definite answer. 

“We’re still waiting for several results.” 

“W-Why?” Sidney jumps in the conversation. “Did something happen to the baby?” 

Unfortunately, as much as Claire wanted to hit Sidney’s face, she couldn’t. She wasn’t in the hospital just because she’s your friend. Simply put, duty calls. And right now, Sidney demands her of it. 

“I am not at liberty to disclose anything at the moment, but I assure you, we are doing the best we can.” she tells Sidney despite not meeting his eyes. 

“Will you at least let me see her?” He pleads.

“I don’t think so.” she states firmly.

“What– Why?” Sidney asks quite defensively. “I am her emergency contact person!”

“No, you are not.” she informs him. “You cannot see her files because you are no longer her emergency contact person. I am now. You are neither her next of kin nor are you married. And if you are present as any partner should have, you would know.” 

Sidney scoffs, “That’s bullshit.”

“You are not my patient, Sid. I am in no way responsible for disclosing information Y/N clearly doesn’t want to share with you.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Sidney complains.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Claire tells him. 

“I can’t believe how unprofessional you can be!” Sidney exclaims when Claire continues to ignore his requests. 

“No,” She looks at him for a moment, gets back to reading your form on her clipboard, and meets Sid’s eyes once again. “It’s the consequences.” 

“You’re unbelievable.” 

The Letangs come in between the two to mitigate the tension, “We’ll just wait for as long as we need to.”

“Why? What’s the plan, Sid? Huh? Isn’t this what you wanted? To spend your years like Jagr?”

“Don’t you fucking go there.” He warns.

Even more appalled by Sidney’s reaction, Claire grins and shrugs shamelessly before walking away.

“I think I just did.”

𖥸

Sidney did not exactly know how he did it and how fast he had done it, but as soon as Claire had her hands full, he went straight to grab the brass metal of the door knob leading to your room. 

Quietly, as he spared one last glance of his surroundings, he turns it and opens the door. 

It was a good thing that your bed was not adjacent to the doorway. Sidney could not fully comprehend the things wrecking his brain all at once. Although he knew of one thing: he finally gets to see you. 

Your mind drifts right off the tip of your finger as you look outside your window. The fog was so even and misty that it made the entire window a blur. The only thing you could see were the steady white lights of that huge corner block building fashioned by the noise of cars driving off to a better place than the four corners of your hospital bedroom. 

Judging by the scenery, you could tell that it was well past midnight. 

As you lie with your still aching heart, you find yourself grazing your stomach ever so gently as if you were holding something– someone, much more meaningful than your entire being. 

If only he was– 

“Hey.” 

He is. 

Sidney had both of his hands resting on his side alienated by the thick air he usually causes. It was a battle as to whether to go near you or stay still. But judging by the way you looked at him so strangely, he knew he didn’t have any other choice. 

You watch him inch himself closer until he is already at the foot of the bed. He looked unusually small for a man of his stature. Your eyes did not miss a thing. You saw the hesitant look he had coupled with the urgency that is perhaps all too late to be paraded before your eyes. 

Despite noticing all that, in Sidney’s eyes, you did nothing but look. He was scared not because it made him uneasy. He was scared because you have never looked at him that way. 

There are so many things to be said but Sidney was at a loss for words. He wanted to ask how you were; how the baby was. He wanted to say how sorry he felt for leaving and how dumb it was to let you suffer when he could’ve been there like he should have. He wanted to let you know how badly he prays and hopes that you’ll find it in yourself to forgive him. But mostly, he just really wished that you’d still want to make it work and build that family – with him. 

How could he say all that when it feels like you were miles away beyond his reach despite him already holding your hand? 

Finally, as though the words have only occurred to him, he asks, “How are you?” 

He looks back at you as intently as he thought you did. However, your eyes mirrored his, unwillingly. Sidney takes the empty seat beside your bed; never letting go of his hold on you. 

Soon enough, you look away and aim your attention onto his hands. Both of his palms embraced your hand oh so desperately, pleading a prayer only he could hear. 

“I’m sorry.” he says, eyes now misty with tears. “It’s all my fault. I should’ve been with you. I’m sorry. I was selfish. Please please forgive me.” he adds, pressing wet and much more desperate kisses on your hand. 

He waited for you to say something in return but he received nothing. You looked at him exactly the way you did when he arrived; sparing him a blink or two whenever your eyes got tired.

It was the kind of silence Sidney wasn’t accustomed to. It was the kind of silence he never knew. 

Until now. Until you.

His voice breaks when he decides to speak yet again. 

“Please say something.” he desperately asks. 

But you don’t. 

You just lie in the same cold bed, letting him hold your hand. 

Afraid of what has become you, Sidney masks his fear with a wide smile albeit it didn’t do any better. It just made him feel worse. Maybe even a thousand times more than he’s already had. 

“Mon amour…” he calls you. “Please talk to me.”

You blink and look away. 

Sorrow now filling the void he feels from within, Sidney sees your hand that was still resting atop your stomach. 

For the first time, he then dared to ask, “How… How's the baby?” 

Sidney sees you look at him yet again as if to finally acknowledge his presence in the room. 

However, the words you spoke next nearly made him wish you did not bother at all. 

“There is no baby, Sidney.”

You spit the words like vile coursing from your throat; voice hoarse from the eventful night. 

“W-What?” he stammers, evidently shocked at your uninhibited way of revealing such news. 

“There is no baby.” you repeat just as you remove your hand from his hold. 

“You may go.” you quietly add, looking away. 

Confused, off-guard, and terrified, Sidney tries to grasp the thought of the truth. 

“What do you mean there is no baby?” Sidney begins to flood you with queries. “They must have read the tests wrong. It can’t be right, can it? Claire told Cathy everything was fine! We do have a baby!” he nearly grovels trying to get a hold of you, pleading. 

“We have a baby, y/n.” He breaks. “We’re going to be a family.”

Oh you’d kill to have him say those words when you needed him to. Only he didn’t. And that is the truth you’re now choosing. 

“I need you to go, Sidney.” you respond calmly, frustrating him even more. 

“Please, y/n!” he cries. “What happened to our baby?” 

“It’s gone, alright!” you lose it just as Sidney’s world begins to crumble, “You got what you wanted!”

You blink away the tears about to break just as you say, “I need you to go because I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No– There’s got to be another way for us. We always find a way.”

“I don’t want to do this anymore, Sidney.” you reiterate. “I don’t think we should be together.”

“You’re just saying that because you’re mad at me,” he argues. “Just be mad at me, y/n!” 

He grabs your hand and places it close to his cheek. You can feel the tears on his skin and his desperate cry to escape the inevitable. 

You look at him with the same fondness you once had. The last he’ll ever see. 

“It’s over, Sid.” you declare. “I don’t want this– I don’t want to be with you.”

“Y/N… please,” he says. “I’m begging you.” 

“Leave, Sidney.” you reach for the red button on the side of your bed, hoping to get Claire. 

Sidney’s tears continue to fall. But you no longer care. 

“I can’t do this without you.” he says in between sobs. 

You press the red button repeatedly. You wipe your tears away wishing Claire would get to you faster. 

“Please don’t end us.” he says, knees already on the cold hospital floor; a complete mess. “Please don’t make me leave.” 

Before you can push him further away, the door to your room abruptly opens; Kris and Geno come into view. 

With a firm yet cautious voice, Geno calls him. “Sidney.” 

Kris puts an arm over Sidney’s shoulder, “Let her get some rest.”

“Y/N–” Sidney calls for you once more; bearing with him the thought of losing his son and his son’s mother. The family you wanted a little too early. The family he wanted a little too late. The painful truth that Sidney chose to carry with him for years however ugly and cruel you made it to be just so he can still make it seem real. 

If only he knew.

series taglist: to be reblogged! [tumblr crashes a lot and won't let me post smh]

note: woooow been a hot min! how's everyone? i hope you liked this long over-due update i'm so sorry life got in the way for a bit. anw, you know how much of a sucker i am for interaction so lmk what you think love ya! ♡

add yourself to the series taglist here. i appreciate all kinds of feedback! ♡

[godihatethiswebsite]

Simon Riley x reader - Hot Cocoa

CW: childhood abuse, implied alcohol and drug usage, angst/comfort

You didn’t know it at the time, but it was more than just a cup of hot cocoa.

Soft hands–so unlike his mothers–never having been braced against the impact of another’s cruelty, yet clutching his with the same maternal insistence as you slip the steaming mug of sweetness between the gnarled, calloused proof of his misfortunate life. 

There is no preamble of cracked leather; no metal branded welts to be found from a diseased monstrosity who does not care if they are hidden. Simon’s knuckles are intact, not bruised nor split against his sperm donor’s chin. Sentinel instincts are rendered obsolete without the triggering sniffles of his traumatized sibling. No need to keep playing the brave little soldier – the screams of nearby children are not born from brutality.

Doe eyes gaze up at him with an exuberant sparkle, no glassy haze plying you into absent submission. Water molecules of heated breath turning crystalline vapor in the frosty night air hold no trace of ABV – no lingering aroma of whiskey sorrow. The tremble in your bones is from a lack of knitted mittens, not survival induced adrenaline spikes. Frozen fractals catch in silken strands kept immaculate and washed, a polished sheen so unlike her familiar limp straw, reflecting the untarnished soul within he’s done his best to keep pure.

The failure of his mother’s visage haunts his waking past, but the dying warmth of her love renews in an unexpected presence.

He never told you of the act – the ritual of younger nights in a bygone civil hellscape. When the door had finished rattling on rust weathered hinges and the taillights of abuse were all but distant fireflies. When his brother crawled out from his false sanctuary of childhood innocence, having braved the monsters beneath the bed rather than the one he still called ‘papa’. When the woman who should’ve loved them better remembered who she was, the pain of mottled flesh replacing the lucidity of the mind. When he saw his mother for who she was: a woman worn down by sadistic malice. Who was just as much a victim with the scars left on her skin, the pockmarks on her elbows forced there by a stronger hand, the blonde hairs scattered and bloody pulled like cobwebs from her scalp.

Red rimmed eyes spoke wordless apologies for the naivety of her past; for the regrets of choosing wrong the father of her children, the life she wished she had the chance to go back and undo. 

A dead end promise to fix the mistakes of their future – someday.

He clung to the cheap disposable cardboard like the memory of crawling into a threadbare twin, shadows kept at bay with the weak glow from Tommy’s nightlight. The kettle whistled as the pair of them settled, packaged powder dumped into chipped ceramic and brought to them with a shaky smile. He would never voice aloud his own preference for less marshmallows, to give force to the cracks already shattering her resolve. If not for her sake than for his brother’s. 

The expression on your face brings him back from gloomier times, wrapped up in festive cheer all windswept and frost bitten, a backlight of radiance from the bustling market stand you purchased the beverages from. He watches as overeagerness singes your tongue, the small yelp of complaint soothed by a mouthful of whipped cream, the pain doing nothing to retract from the unbridled joy you feel in this simple cherished moment.

You. 

A gift–he knows–sent from heaven by the broken woman he forgave so very long ago. Her promise to him taken physical form.

It’s so much more than just a cup of hot cocoa.

It’s healing.

Masterlist

[copperbadge]

Europeans, I have some questions.

Do you know what ambrosia salad is?

If so, is the version you know of a) a normal salad or b) a "dessert" salad?

Do you know what Dirt Cake is?

If so, is that common knowledge in your region?

(What country/region do you live in, other context you wish to add, etc)

I'm working on the new Shivadh novel and I underestimated the comedic potential of Simon, a classically trained French chef who has been cooking for European nobility for thirty years, trying to set a menu for a graduation party with Noah, your average American teenaged garbage disposal, and Eddie, who is literally based on Guy Fieri. Reminds me of the bit in Infinite Jes where Michaelis mentions that Eddie and Gerald had him judge a debate about Hot Pockets and then confesses he doesn't actually know what they are.

(Context for the end of the snippet -- Hugo and Gwen are Simon's brother and sister-in-law, Claude is his young nephew.)

"Huh, okay, so are we doing like a salad theme?" 

"How do you mean?" Noah asked.

"Oh, just, you've got a potato salad and a pasta salad. I'd suggest a Jello salad for dessert but..." Eddie broke off at Alanna's horrified look. "That is what you will see on everyone's face," he said to Noah, pointing at Alanna. 

"Not so, I could do an aspic," Simon protested. "Sweet or savory, very traditional -- not this nonsense from American cookbooks from sixty years ago."

"American nonsense is kinda my brand," Noah pointed out. "Uh, I don't think we realized we were building a giant salad course but I am into that, actually. I'd like to discuss the Jello Salad," he said, and Eddie crowed delightedly while Alanna blanched, so Simon had to mediate a good-natured but extensive debate about gelatin in sweet dessert salads. 

It was an education; when he showed Hugo and Gwen what Americans thought ambrosia salad was, later, their horror was gratifying. It was a fitting prelude to his next exhibit, the Dirt Cake pudding cup, which made Hugo pretend to faint but -- even better -- fascinated little Claude so much that he insisted he wanted them instead of a cake for his next birthday. 

"He'll forget by the time the birthday arrives," Simon assured Hugo, who pretended to mop a sweaty brow. "And if he doesn't, I can elevate this. A light coffee mousse with chocolate biscuits -- drizzle with a sweet wine reduction -- jellied candy flavored with dragonfruit and blackcurrant."

"Can we put bones in the dirt?" Claude asked, already exploring his terrible American dessert options on his tablet. 

"Not human," Gwen said hurriedly. "That's a bridge too far for a birthday party, my darling," she told Claude. 

"Dinosaur bones?" Claude asked hopefully. Gwen and Hugo both looked at Simon. 

"Meringue, or marzipan," Simon pronounced. "Yes, that could be done. Well, my little gravedigger, we will see," he told Claude, tousling his hair.

[oneshotnewbie]

I hope your feeling well. I would like to request an Amelia shepherd x reader where the reader is in recovery of self harm and one day Amelia comes home and finds her harming herself. First angst and then fluff if you are comfortable <3

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of self-harm, blood and the brief mention of suicide. These plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

In a dimly lit room, you sat at a shabby old desk belonging to your predecessor. The room seemed cramped and suffocating, as if the bare walls were getting closer and closer the longer you stayed there in your chair. You stared at the screen of an overloaded old computer, your eyes wide open and your forehead furrowed thoughtfull, the table littered with all the papers from a new case, scattered in a chaotic arrangement while the coffee in the cup next to it has long since become cold, ignored and forgotten.

Your hands clinging to the mouse, sweaty and shaking, the cursor on the screen frantically darting over various tabs and icons as you desperately tried to get anything done amid the pressure, stress and sleepless nights of the last few weeks. Your breathing was heavy and shallow, but your chest was still falling quickly and in an irregular rhythm. The air around you thick and the pressure within it palpable, as if invisible hands were constricting your throat.

"Hey, y/n. Are you okay?" A bright, feminine voice asked, her fitting figure standing in front of your desk. Your eyelids flickered as you lifted your head, the thoughts in your head swirling wildly as you tried to keep control of them and yourself. But the only thing you wanted at that moment was to go back to the blade and relieve yourself, even though you had already been clean for three months and had promised yourself never to fall back into this addiction.

"Y-yeah, everything is fine," you lied in a broken and raspy voice, the desk lamp next to you flickering dimly as the room filled with a muffled, monotone sound that seemed to penetrate through your ears and lodge in your head. "Are you sure? You look pale and you are sweating. Do you have a fever?"

The pressure inside you grew with your colleague's questioning, heavy like an unbearable weight that rested on your shoulders and pulled you further and further to the ground. Every second that the blonde's eyes were on you seemed like an eternity, and the pressure inside, mixed with a deep panic, felt like a bubbling volcano, ready to erupt and consume everything around you. "You know what? I feel sick. I am going to go home and rest."

ᕚ---ᕘ

As soon as you got home, you quickly ran to the bathroom and looked for a brand new disposable razor, which you had disassembled in seconds. The world around you blurred into a diffuse mist of colors and shadows as you sat down on the bed and violently tore your jacket down. Your heartbeat was pounding in your ears and your gaze was blank, fixated on the cold silver between your fingers. Your hands shook as you placed the blade spasmodically against your thin skin, fighting the inner storm to hurt yourself and destroy the promise you gave Amelia.

There was an ominous silence around you, broken only by the dull thumping of your own pulse. Your body was heavy, bound by an invisible chain, your legs rooted to the ground. Your face marked by fear and desperation, but also relief as you pulled the blade through and a thin line of blood appeared on the cut. It helped you release the pressure you were holding inside, pouring out the stress of the days.

It was a moment of liberation that no one understood. Another cut brought you repeated relief and at the feeling of burning and escaping emotions, you closed your eyes as you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. In your trance, you didn't even hear how the front door closed and your girlfriend checked on you in every room. "Y/n? My love, where are you?" Amelia called but you did not hear her, the environment around you seemed unreal and vague.

Amelia had come home after your colleague called her and told her about the incident that had happened at work. She was worried that you really were not feeling well, leaving you go home alone in case something happened to you, so to be on the safe side she had called the emergency contact number listed in your file to make sure you were not alone and someone could look after you when you got home. "Elizabeth called me and said that you-" she stopped perplexed in her tracks, her jaw hanging low as she spotted you, bloody razor just inches away from your wrist.

Close to it, there were cuts, angry red blood dripping down onto your thigh. "Hey, what are you doing there? Put that down, please" she demanded softly, mostly out of fright and shock. You looked down at the ground, refusing to meet her gaze as she dropped her bag on the floor and immediately made her way to the bathroom to grab some bandages. Amelia returned with a small, wet rag, which she gently placed over your wrist and pressed firmly onto it. There was not much bleeding, she did not have to worry about serious injuries, however tears threatened to fall. The brunette was scared- terrified for you.

"Why?" she asked sniffling, not showing the slightest bit of anger in her voice. You looked up nervously, your shiny and relieved eyes meeting her sad hazel brown ones. She ran her fingers delicately through your strands of hair before her hand came to rest on your cheek, her thumb lightly stroking your cheekbone. "You were clean. Why did you do that, darling?"

„I just needed to escape the harsh and bleak reality. Life recently got so rough and I felt like I may burst,“ you began to speak and she pulled you into her chest by the back of your head. Amelia kissed your hair, ran her hand through it and gently rocked you from left to right. Her chin rested on your skull, her eyes closed to calm her racing heart. She was not mad at you, never could be. She herself knew what it was like to fight an addiction; it took her several attempts to be sober for a good three years. "I am sorry, Am."

"It is okay. Please only answer one question," you nodded your head, still hidden in her chest and held by her. "If you could kill yourself right now, would you?" You quickly jumped and tore yourself away from her, your eyes wide at the shocking question. Placing your hands on her thighs, you gently rubbed her knees and looked deep into her eyes. "No, because suicide means that you have given up on yourself. And I am not going to do that. I just had to let the pressure go because I did not see any other option."

[packagingbypolymer]

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[foldingfittedsheets]

Okay, weird question but you mentioned using a cup in the tags of a post references menstruation (I assume you were referencing menstruation when you woke up in your own blood). Do you have have any advice for cups or period products in general? People say that you're not supposed to feel inserted products but I always feel them - even the smallest of tampons. Im always aware of external products like pads as well, even if i use cloth ones. Any advice you have would be appreciated!

I really adore my Flex cup. I tried like... five different brands of period cup before I found this one and I adore it. I will never ever go back.

Tampons for me created a painful feeling of friction, they were never comfortable enough for me to wear in anything except extreme emergencies. Like you I was always painfully aware of them inside me. Pads were lumpy and the feeling of freely bleeding made my skin crawl. I also didn't like the disposable nature of both. So I looked into cups.

In general, I found that because cups are made of smooth silicone they did not irritate or chafe me like tampons. I get to keep using them forever with just a quick boil between periods. But like tampons the size still matters. I'm a little person and big cups really exacerbated my cramps so it's important to find the right size for your body.

Cups can also be hard to learn to insert, as a heads up. My beloved had a hell of a time mastering that aspect but both of us are never ever going back. You really get to just forget you're on your period aside from cramps etc because they're so comfortable. There's quizzes now that can help you match with the right cup for your body type.

I've also heard some menstruaters talk up period underwear where it just fits snug and you bleed into it. Again, feeling blood drip out of me is a hard no but it could be up your alley.

[problematic-polls]

which of these things that are awful for the environment do you continue to do?

- replacing my phone with a new model more than necessary

- letting my cat/s roam free outside

- playing golf

- driving a bigger/more powerful car than my lifestyle warrants

- buying from fast fashion brands like shein and temu

- regularly getting takeaway coffee in disposable cups

- buying/using disposable vapes (unless you have a recycle program in your area)

- buying/using disposable face masks (in a non-medical setting)

- mining cryptocurrency

- using chatgpt and similar AI products

- multiple of these

- none of these

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both worlds (part 8)

tw: like nasty living conditions implied

vote on da poll below ill start writing after 20 votes, next chapter will b focusing on monty

part 9

You can't do it. You can't say no to Yves without going through mental hoops. So you sigh as you let him conquer your room.

You had posters of your favorite artists, but they were all lost in the clutter long ago. It reemerged dusty and damaged, but Yves repaired it the best he could. It looks decent enough to hang.

You watched him cover his mouth in contemplation as he looked around the room, trying to figure out the best place to hang it.

Yves has done more for you than everyone else combined in your life. He cleaned, he cooked, he took care of your sickness, he cleaned you, he fed you, and now he's decorating your room to make it more habitable. All of this and you never said a word, neither protest nor request. You just let him do his thing.

From what you read in the group chat, he also replenished your section of the fridge with groceries.

Your housemate took a picture of the things he bought, all of them were labelled with your name. His handwriting is black marker ink undoubtedly beautiful.

Your housemate did warn him that you're not one for cooking, the perishables could potentially go to waste. He replied that he will be visiting over for the next few days to make your meals. One of them even broke the landlord's rules and gave him a spare key to the front door.

Eventually, Yves found the perfect places to position your posters' forever home. Who knew just the strategic placement of some piece of laminated paper would elevate a room? It looks much better and oddly bigger now... well maybe the latter due to his cleanup.

He clasped his hands and admired his work. As he should.

After that, he turned to you. Which made you jolt out of surprise.

"It's been an hour and a half. Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

You checked the time. He's right, it's now half past eleven. You're not hungry anymore, so you told him that you're full. He nodded and left your room again.

Your housemates blew up the group chat due to another wild Yves sighting around the house. Is this how it's going to be from now on?

This time, you received a picture of him portioning the leftover congee in disposable containers. He has his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing his lean forearms. You're surprised to see that they were riddled in old scars. It was captioned: "He's freezing the rest"

You squinted and it looks like he's weighing them on an electronic scale. There's a marker pen in this picture.

You sent a message to the group chat asking if he's using his own items.

"I think so??? Idk i have never seen these containers b4" "well theyre not stained yellow yet, he has gotta have these brand new" "yea n hes using rich people sharpies, like none of us here can afford it, all of us get offbrands"

You wonder if he managed to fit them into his handbag.

Yves came back into your room, explaining that the congee will last up to 3 months in the freezer. He also walked you through the steps on how to reheat them by yourself, using the microwave or otherwise. Yves told you not to worry if you couldn't remember what to do, he wrote it down and attached it to the containers- or you could call him instead.

You nodded and waited to see what he would do. Yves seem to be doing the same thing to you for the next few seconds. Eventually though, he deem that you didn't need anything from him at the moment.

"I have to retrieve something from my car." He informed you, walking towards his bag and fishing out his keys. He checked the contents of his thermos cup, it's empty. The metal straw clanked around the walls as he picked it up and carried it with him.

You paid no mind to your housemates' frantic messages enquiring about his departure. You're too tired to care anymore, and you're too tired to know if you actually wanted him here or gone. It's nice to have company for once, but it's from a questionable source.

So you tucked yourself under your blanket and curled up into a ball. Hiding your head under your pillow so you wouldn't need to see Yves when he comes in.

You heard footsteps. And sure enough, Yves is now breathing the same diseased air as you.

But this time, he says nothing. Yves flicked the switch to your lights off and set whatever he has down on your desk.

There was a long period of silence accompanied by the soft sounds of typing. A dim glow from his computer screen illuminated his face and reflected on his reading glasses. He's logging in all the events, the observations and other pieces of data he collected from you today.

Yet you're not awake to see any of it. Blissfully sleeping and snoring away as Yves kept you company throughout the night.

__

You woke up the next morning feeling much better. But still not as healthy as usual. You should be fit enough to go to the university today.

Yves is gone and so are his belongings. However, you found a handwritten note addressed to you on your night stand.

"Your breakfast is in the fridge. Look for a mason jar with your name. It is ready to eat. -Yves"

You stretched and yawned, crumpling the paper and shooting it into the trash can.

You peeled the blanket off yourself and set your feet down onto the floor. That was when you realized he left something on the foot of your bed.

Another note resting on top of a set of neatly folded clothes and a bottle of sunscreen.

"The weather today will be reaching 90⁰F/32.2⁰C, take care of yourself and avoid the sun. -Yves"

The clothes he picked for you were the ones you forgot you had. It was breathable and cooling, but in your daily, personal style. He must have found it yesterday when he did your laundry.

You carried it in your arms and walked to your door to see yet another note- this time it was a folded A4 sized paper, attached to your bag, which looked noticeably lighter and... newer.

"I do not recommend leaving yet. But if you do, I packed an umbrella for you. Please wash your water bottle regularly, it is growing mold. Your bag was full of unnecessary paper scraps, wrappers, food crumbs, and other garbage. I had to hand wash it as I found a dried house lizard pressed between a dictionary and a magazine. Some of the notes and textbooks you carry were not even required for this semester or the next, hence I kept it away on your shelf. Your bag had holes at the bottom and was already falling apart at the seams. I sewed the best I could, but replacing and upgrading is the better option. Be mindful of your belongings.-Yves"

Your face became bright red after reading the last line. You never asked him to do this for you! Why is he judging? He chose to stick around! You don't like being told you're pathetic, directly or indirectly!

Did he really have to underline the word "mold" more than thrice? And why did he switch to red ink for that one word?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Exiting your room to pay a visit to the bathroom.

You were taken aback by the cleanliness. It looked like how it was in the listing, shiny and grime free. The shampoo and soap bottles were arranged neatly with no trace of dark sludge coating it.

There is another note stuck to the mirror.

This time, there were crude drawings depicting penises urinating on your name, no doubt vandalized by your housemates. You went ahead to read what Yves had to say.

"To (name), I replaced your toothbrush as that too, was growing mold. Pay attention to your hygiene or else you will be prone to sickness.- Yves"

There were hearts drawn all around his name, no doubt the culprit was your housemate who took a liking to him.

After taking a shower and changing into your new set of clothes, you left the bathroom to eat breakfast in the kitchen.

You opened the now pristine fridge and sure enough, there is a mason jar with a sticker of your name on its side.

You rotated it to see that he has written something else:

"Banana chia pudding: Chia seeds, almond milk, banana slices, vanilla extract, maple syrup, granola. Gluten-free and lactose-free. Do not heat, eat as is."

You're not sure how to feel about the taste, texture and temperature. It is "sick people" food after all. Perhaps you liked it, perhaps you don't. But you are definitely grateful that you have a free meal from Yves.

One of your housemates entered the kitchen, she greeted you as she began preparing her own meal.

You asked her what time Yves left.

"Beats me. His car was already gone when I woke up at 4am to take a piss. He did leave us a note though."

You asked her what she meant by that.

She shoved her hand in her pant pocket and handed a crumpled piece of paper to you.

"I will visit at 6pm, please take care of (name) for me. -Yves"

You asked where did she find this note.

"Next to the light switch in the living room" She cracked open an egg on her skillet.

You looked at the wall clock. It says 12:03pm

You have around 6 hours left before Yves comes back. There is nothing much to do in your house because the Internet runs at a snail's pace and there is no air conditioning. So you would be boiling in your room.

You think you're well enough to move around and you definitely do not want to spend time with your housemates.

You don't have to go to the university, since your exams are over and so are your classes for the semester. But all the study spots, including the library, have air conditioning.

[sirfrogsworth]

Someone was having trouble getting decent sound in his living room and instead of recommending a room treatment or better speakers this person just casually suggests PUTTING AN ADDITION ONTO THE HOUSE.

Trying to get advice on audio forums is often a challenge because a lot of these dudes just have *so much* disposable income. And they just assume everyone else is wealthy too. You can even tell them you have a budget and they'll be like, "You should save up longer and buy this thing that is three times your budget."

And it's not like there aren't wonderful options that are more affordable. I think I may have about $3000 worth of home theater equipment that I have collected over the last 20 years. They will spend that on a single speaker and suggest you do the same.

The people in these forums would have a fit if they knew I had a single subwoofer. Apparently, the cardinal audio sin is having only ONE subwoofer.

Your room could have NULLS!

NULLLLLLS!!!

Seriously, they will lecture you anytime you mention having a single subwoofer. "Your seat-to-seat response is going to be inconsistent!"

I also saw a guy say that a 15" subwoofer was "tiny" and "pointless."

My 70-pound, 12" subwoofer is currently vibrating items off the shelf in my house ever since I moved it upstairs and don't have concrete floors like in the basement. I'm going to have to buy special subwoofer feet to decouple it from the floor. I can't imagine what a 15" sub would do to my house. It might collapse on top of me.

So you can only get a sub that is at least 18" and you need a minimum of 2... but 4 is much better. Actually, 4 is the minimum. 2 is garbage. 2 in front and 2 in back.

And, of course, you have to get a Rythmik or PSA subwoofer. Don't cheap out on the brand!

You have to build an addition to the house AND buy $8000 worth of subwoofers and then MAYBE your sound will be somewhat listenable.

But only if you calibrate the subs with a MiniDSP and the proper UMIK calibration microphone.

Wait, do you have a regular AVR with built in amplification? That won't do. What you need is an audio processor with individual external amplification.

You'll need a 9.4.6 configuration for the proper surround sound experience. That is 9 ear-level speakers, 4 subwoofers, and 6 atmos ceiling speakers.

So 2 of these.

1 of these.

3 pairs of these.

6 of these... plus professional ceiling installation.

And an individual amplifier for each speaker.

Do you really need a 600 watt amp for the ceiling speakers too?

OF COURSE YOU DO!

DO YOU WANT A LOW NOISE FLOOR AND NO DISTORTION OR DO YOU WANT GARBAGE?

Comfort is important too. So you'll want a Valencia leather power recliner with LED cup holder.

And... by far... the most important home theater component...

The power cable.

This will assure that only the highest quality electrons are delivered to your audio equipment.

Don't think about it too much.

Don't think about all of the janky powerlines that deliver electricity to your house.

Or all of the generic power cables inside your wall.

This cable magically negates all of that and turns the last few feet of electricity into pure, audio-grade power.

Guaranteed to drastically improve your sound quality... somehow.

It can't be nonsense, otherwise someone would have never written such beautiful prose about a power cable in a review...

"I was smitten by the piano’s extra depth in its nether regions. I’m not talking about what some audiophiles like to refer to as testicular bass, but rather, a rich and absorbing presentation."

$14,000 for rich and absorbing testicular bass? WORTH IT!

So that's roughly $65,870 for all of that and between $50,000 and $100,000 for a 500 square foot room addition.

A small price to pay for a room that is not junk for listening to music.

[iamthatwhich]

If you menstruate and are on a path of zero-waste, avoiding plastics, avoiding toxic chemicals, minimizing your footprint, or all of the above, then you’ve likely been faced with a frustrating conundrum: Menstruating is a natural part of your life, but there doesn’t seem to be too many ‘clean’, safe options to deal with it.

First off, let me say that I have been off and away from mainstream menstrual care for over 14 years, including birth control (wrecked my hormones), and storebought sanitary products (full of harmful chemicals like bleach, perfume and hormone-disrupting PFAs!). I have used silicone cups, discs, and cloth pads, and have a lengthy and thorough review of how they are used and what brands I prefer up on my Patreon.

However, for today I want to focus on one tried and true item: The pad.

Pads have been around for centuries- longer if you include their earlier predecessor, The Rag. However, in this time we’ve come pretty far to create a more secure, clean and manageable item— though the creation of the chemically-treated, plastic lined disposable pad has been a regrettable pit stop.

Cloth pads are great because they come in a wide range of colors and patterns (making them more appropriate for more kinds of menstruating people, including men and children) and can be reused for years if cared for properly. Over the past decade, they’ve gone from being available solely from independent sellers on sites like Etsy to  being sold alongside menstrual cups in the ‘alternative’ period care section of many stores. You can also specifically buy  pads made from organic or natural materials and avoid petrol-based textiles.

However, a downside here is that purchasing pads can still be expensive even if you aren’t buying direct from an indie seller. Now, it’s not that they aren’t worth every penny; having made 3 sets myself I fully understand the time, skill and materials that go into making them. But the fact of the matter is that under late-stage capitalism, paying the higher up-front cost for a set of reusable pads can be daunting, even if you know it’s cheaper in the long run (and it is). If you have access to fabric, a sewing machine, and sewing skills, you can half the price, and I’m going to show you  how. The cost of fabric can even be lowered by recycling old towels and clothing and I’ll talk about what you need in the tutorial! As a set of good cloth pads can last from 4-6 years or more, this is a great, frugal and eco-friendly option!

Additionally, I’m going to tell you how to wash and care for your pads since working with reusable pads is way different than just wrapping them up and throwing them in the trash.

For the step by step directions, photos and care tutorial, click here to read for free on my Patreon. All of my content is Patron-supported and Patrons also receive private and early-release posts! If you appreciate my work, feel free to visit my membership page and choose the tier that works for you.

Free tutorial here.

Tips + Thank yous Insta

[airyairyaucontraire]

Used frying oil + stearic acid = easily disposable goo

I really like deep frying food like doughnuts and kara age chicken but have been forgoing it for a while because of the difficulty of disposing of the oil. If you filter out any food crumbs after it cools down and/or clarify it using gelatin, you can re-use deep frying oil two or three times, but after repeated use it darkens and tends to develop an unpleasant flavour affecting the food. After that it's got to go.

You shouldn't pour it down the sink because it can contribute to fatbergs forming in the sewers. You can pour it back in the original bottle, put on the lid and put it out in the rubbish, but that means the bottle doesn't get recycled and the oil is trapped inside it in the landfill, unable to biodegrade. Restaurants have access to commercial oil removal services, which nowadays often convert the old oil to biodiesel so it gets another use, but these usually don't take oil from people's homes (kerbside oil collection may be available in some places, but certainly not where I live). I felt stink about the available options so I stopped deep-frying for a while to avoid the problem.

However, I've learned of a clever trick! You can buy stearic acid quite cheaply from the kind of stores that sell supplies for making scented soaps and candles. It's a substance sold in the form of small flakes or granules that has the property of solidifying oils (hence useful for making soaps and candles).

To solidify deep frying oil, either do this shortly after you finish cooking with it, or (if you're me) reheat some old oil you have sitting around in a bottle that you don't feel right about throwing away. It doesn't need to be super duper hot, just anywhere above about 100ºF/38ºC. For each cup of oil, add three tablespoons of stearic acid and let it dissolve (it will be pretty quick). Turn off the heat and put the pot at the back of the stove or somewhere else that it can cool down undisturbed.

The time it needs to solidify will vary depending on things like the quantity of oil and how well the pot retains heat, but I found that within a couple of hours four cups of oil in a cast-iron pot had gone cold and turned to a soft jelly consistency that could be easily scooped out of the pot and dropped in the rubbish bin. Grand.

There are, of course, packaged mixtures you can buy that do the same thing (one brand is called Fry Away) but plain stearic acid is cheaper so yay!

[taergalive]

Random Things That Existed While Alastor Was Still Alive

Electric Irons

Electric Washing Machines

Electric Dishwashers

Electric Refridgerators

Vacuum Cleaners

Automobiles

Sewing Machines

Pop-up Toasters

Band-Aids (like the legit brand)

Bulldozers

Television (It existed but was not widely utilized. Hard to come by but it existed!)

Traffic Lights

Escalators

Lie Detectors

Teddy Bears

Neon Lights

Crayons

Windshield Wipers

Cornflakes

Helicopter

Instant Coffee

Binder Clips

Electric Blankets

Jungle Gyms

Hair Dryers (though they were awful)

Water Skiing

Reuben Sandwich

Drive-Thru Restaurants

Garbage Disposal

Lifesaver Candy

Crossword Puzzles

Ecstasy

Bras

Batteries

Disposable Razors

Gas Masks

X-Rays

Marshmallow Fluff

Dimmer Lights

Hamburgers

Kool-Aid

Corn Dogs

Ice Cube Trays

Reclining Armchairs

Clip-on Ties

Tampons

Eyelash Curlers

Sunglasses

Cheesesteaks

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Electric Guitars

Toilet Brushes

Lincoln Logs

Super Markets

Grocery Bags

Blender

Modern Zipper

Fortune Cookies

Bug Zappers

Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

Twizzlers

Air Conditioning

Tommy Guns

Dum Dums

Butterfingers

7Up

Milkyways

Insulin

3D Movies

Frozen Food

Self Winding Watches

Spiral Notebooks

Loudspeakers

PEZ Candies

Steamboat Willy Cartoon

Instant Cameras (where the picture would develop instantly)

Wonderbread

Sliced Bread!

Heinz Ketchup

Aunt Jemima Pancake Flour

Rice Krispies'

Klondike Bars

Technicolor (Colored Movies)

Aerosol Cans

Paper Towels

Candy Apples

Bubble Gum

Electric Shavers

Car Radios

Yo-Yos

Scotch Tape

FM Radio (created the year Alastor died)