#i have to give a presentation at work tomorrow and my colleague canceled so now i have to do it by myself and i'm a bit nervous dkfjdkf

[otomehonyaku]

DIABOLIK LOVERS More, More Blood Vol. 12 Ruki ☽ Animate Tokuten CD ☽ Living A Normal School Life For Once!

Original title: たまにはまともに学園生活！ Voiced by Sakurai Takahiro English translation by @otomehonyaku Click here for the audio (kindly provided by @karleksmumskladdkaka!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

One very unhinged tokuten... I appreciate Ruki's persistence when it comes to defending us/Yui, but he's definitely taking it too far dkfjdkfd ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡ Have fun listening and reading along!

Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[The scene starts at the academy. Ruki finds you after class.]

00:00 Hey. What are you doing?

[He startles you and you accidentally drop the papers you were holding.]

You turned around so frantically that you dropped your things.

[Ruki bends down to gather the papers you dropped.]

‘Off-campus learning guidebook’?  I see. These are the prints that’ll be bound into the actual guidebooks. I suppose I don’t even have to ask you why you’re carrying them.  You’re letting the teachers order you around again. Have you forgotten how to say ‘no’? Those kinds of people will never make you see the end of it if you don’t. Anyway, let’s bring these to the teacher’s office. Then your job will be over, right? Oh? What’s the matter?

[You tell him that you still have to bind the books.]

Why did you let it come that far? You’re going to do the bookbinding? If you have to make them for all the students, it’ll take an absurd amount of time. Those fucking tyrannical teachers, setting students to work like slaves for their own benefit… You’re my possession more than anything. I don’t like anyone else doing as they please with you. It seems that I’ll have to teach them a lesson.

[You get a little nervous and try to talk him out of it.]

Heh. It shouldn’t be anything beyond your comprehension. You’re so used to doing their dirty work that you’re still trying to cover for them, and I don’t like it. Hey. We’re going to finish this within the hour.

[You tilt your head to the side.]

I’m telling you that I’ll help you. This isn’t something you should be wasting your time on. If any other requests come in after this, I’ll be right behind you to crush their hopes before they even get to talk to you. This is what we’re going to do, so let’s get to work quickly. At this hour, there should be plenty of empty classrooms available. We’ll bind these guidebooks in the blink of an eye.

[The scene shifts to an empty classroom.]

02:30 Alright. Let’s take care of this as quickly as we can. Each book has 16 pages… Let’s fold the papers and staple them. That should be easy enough. When doing it for all students, though, it’s pretty hard work. Efficiency is key when binding books.  Let’s try it out on a small scale first. We don’t have time to redo everything if we mess it up. Start with the front cover and line up the prints in order.

[You get to work.]

Off-campus learning is a waste of time, though. It’s foolish to think there are things to learn outside of the classroom. Unless you’re actively trying to gain something, there’s no way you can learn anything. For example, let’s say we’re taking a field trip to a museum. Museums have many precious artefacts on display. However, whether it be ancient Greek sculptures, coffins of saints—to a fool, they’re all weight stones (1). Yeah. They have no value just standing there. You’re going through all that trouble to bring all the students there only to look at a room full of weight stones. Don’t you think that’s funny?

04:01 Or, wait—weight stones do have value.  You can press vegetables with them to make pickles, so they’re actually quite helpful. Going to an exhibition on weight stones might be a meaningful way to spend time after all.

[You doubt that.]

What’s with that expression?  The flavour of the end product varies depending on the weight of the stone. That’s not something to make light of. If we actually were to go on an exhibition on weight stones for our off-campus learning, I’d appreciate it.

[You wonder if an exhibition like that even exists.]

You have a good point. We might as well go to a hardware store. That’s just a shopping trip. If we’re going shopping, I’d rather it be just you and me. I refuse to go around in such large groups.

[You’ve both made some progress with the bookbinding at this point.]

Where are we going, anyway? There should be information about the destination somewhere on one of these pages… Is this it? So we’re going to a nearby mountain. To think the school wll go to such lengths to get the students off campus… Hiking, learning about the beauty of nature… You’ve got to be kidding me. Besides, the true beauty of nature can’t be found at the foot of a mountain like this. Lend me your pen. I’ll change the route.

[You stare at Ruki for a moment.]

Didn’t you hear me? Give me your pen. I’ll shatter the hopes of whoever thinks they can challenge a mountain when they’re only in the mood for a stroll.

[Ruki starts drawing on the map.]

Let’s make them climb the steep slope on the other side of the mountain. The landscape varies a lot around this area. People will start falling behind because they lose motivation. This should do the trick. Surely, the harshness of mountain climbing will sink deeply into their minds. Don’t you think it’s a good route?

[You tell him that sounds dangerous.]

06:01 Of course it’s dangerous. It’s mountain climbing. There’s no way you can reach a summit without putting your life on the line.

[You’re at a loss for words.]

Does that surprise you? Did you think it would suffice to go on a trip to a mountain without admiring the scenery from the summit? If this off-campus learning is intended to teach students about the beauty of nature, there’s no better way to do it than to climb a mountain to its very top. Which means you also need the appropriate gear.

[Ruki leafs through the booklet until he finds the list of supplies that’s already there.]

A lunch box, a water bottle, a towel… You can’t be serious. Don’t ever think you can survive on a mountain with these things.

[Ruki grabs his pen and gets to work again.]

I crossed out all the things you don’t need. I’ll make a list of the things you do need for mountain climbing. Even in case of a disaster, this should heighten your chances of survival.

[You still don’t really know what to say.]

What are you acting so surprised for? There’s always a chance of a disaster happening. Listen. If you value your life, don’t take mountain climbing lightly. Bear in mind that we’re talking about off-campus learning. Ah, right. I’ll also write down some important points to take into account in case of an emergency.

[Ruki looks at the points that were already listed in the booklet.]

Hm? ‘Watch out for the snakes’? What’s with this warning paragraph? ‘Snakes are aggressive creatures, so they attack easily’? This is nonsense. Listen up. You should get this through your head as well. First of all, there are many different kinds of snakes, of course. I’m not saying it’s true one hundred percent of the time, but snakes tend to be timid, docile creatures. They will not attack humans unprovoked. If you see one between the grass, it’s best to quietly avoid it. Of course, venomous and aggressive snakes do exist. It goes without saying that you should never let your guard down. Got it?

[You tell him you understand.]

08:11 That’s the answer I was looking for. Good, even for you. Still, this off-campus learning is intended to deepen the students’ knowledge, but this booklet doesn’t give me much hope… Planting misinformation is evil in itself, don’t you think? Well, alright. I won’t be holding back anymore. I’ll thoroughly rewrite this page as well. A bit on the ecology of snakes and the varieties that may live on the mountain… Ah, I’ll also include some fun facts about snakes. You’ve heard much about the snake in the Garden of Eden, right? Wait, but if I were to write about that, I’d have to touch upon the story of Adam and Eve and the forbidden apple as well… And while we’re on the subject of apples, anyway, I might as well add some simple and delicious recipes. It’s witty and it makes for worthwhile reading, right? I’ll stick to recipes for two servings.

[You think Ruki is taking it too far. You try to stop him.]

Hey, don’t grab my arm! You’ll mess up my writing.

[You tell him you’ll never finish it in time.]

Heh. That’s all? That’s no problem. I planned on finishing binding the booklets well within the hour, with time to spare. But look at how awful the content is! That certainly changes things. I will revise this entire off-campus learning guidebook and confront the teacher with it. Like, “This is what true learning is!”

[You yell at him to stop.]

Don’t yell! Setting up plans like these is my forte. Come to think of it, the destination wasn’t appropriate to begin with. There’s nothing interesting about a mountain a few train stops away. Maybe at least one train transfer and a few hours away by car… Somewhere off the beaten path. Although I’d rather pick a woodland area for fostering one’s survival instincts… That means it should definitely take place somewhere around here… Yes. I’ll also add a recipe using the local specialties of this area. 

[Ruki puts down his pen.]

10:36 Alright! Perfect. I think I did pretty well. I chose a place of which the chances of survival are at least ten percent. If you approach it like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do, you can probably make it out alive if you’re lucky. There are no drawbacks to such experiences. Or rather, someone must teach today’s carefree youth what it’s like to walk the line between life and death. To spend your days in the mud. Well, then! Let’s go to the teachers’ office. We’re going to present this. This is revenge for the work they’ve made you do on these prints.

[Ruki starts gathering the booklets.]

Let’s teach those foolish humans the true meaning of off-campus learning!

[You’ve had enough of his antics. You grab onto him and try to keep him from leaving.]

Hey! Don’t hold me back. Come on, don’t pull at me like that! If you don’t watch out, I’ll drop all the—Ah!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

漬物（つけもの）の石（いし）: A weight stone used to press the moisture out of pickles (tsukemono) in Japan. I was going to go with a paperweight analogy instead, as this made a bit more sense for non-Japanese audiences while still making sense for Ruki’s character, but it was a bit difficult to line that up with his explanation...

[ambidextrousarcher]

The Beat of a Heart

In honour of Doctor’s Day (barely in time), here’s a short story by my hand. It’s based mostly on real-life experiences, most of the scenes based on things I have seen in clinical postings. I am not sure whether I got the main character’s emotions right, but I did my best, so I guess that counts. 

[Image ID: A stethoscope with blue tubing, silver diaphragm and black earpieces lying on top of a blurred keyboard, a blue pad to the left of the stethoscope, with a piece of blank paper pinned on it. On the bottom left, the words ‘The beat of a heart...’ are written in red England Hand font. End ID]

I’m tagging my usual writer mutuals and putting the actual short story under a cut.

My taglist: @ambitiousandcunning @medhasree @shaonharryandpannisim @chaanv @arjunaparantapa @hindumyththoughts @spockswhore @ashsnipes​ @annlillyjose​ @seekerbrave​ @avakrahn​ @a-confusedmess​ @arachneofthoughts​ @paneerlajwanti​ @vishnupada​ @bookdragonfanish​ @iamnotthat​ @foreveres​ @shellweed​ @will-die-without-chai​.

She coughs a little, ignoring the rasp in her throat, wishing she could reach for her water bottle, but is impeded by the sheer number of people between her and the bottle in question. She reaches for the hand rub instead, the familiar smell of ethanol almost soothing for a moment. She blinks, turning to the older man sitting across her, the familiar questions on her lips.

‘Can you tell me why you’re here?’ she asks, noting down the man’s anxiety, trying to make her voice sound soothing. That is all the prompting he needs to launch into his long-winded story. She stretches a little, noticing the line of people in front of her, and the students hanging on each of her words standing behind her chair.

She smiles, looking behind her at the students, gesturing subtly for one of them to take over. ‘Make sure to examine him properly,’ she instructs. The student she had instructed nods, her eyes wide. ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the younger girl responds, leading the man to a bed. She can see the couple of students who had bothered to attend all clustered together, their discussion hushed.

She suppresses a grin. They’ll learn. She herself had. And indeed, one of the the students comes forward tentatively, stopping her peer who had been taking the man’s history, and begins the examination.

She turns to her work, leaving the students occupied for now. It’s a familiar battleground of questions and answers, having to rush the patients because of the lack of time. ‘Ma’am?’ it’s a young gentleman. ‘Yes, sir?’ ‘I am sorry,’ he says hesitantly, ‘I don’t understand what you said.’ She nods. Clears her throat, looking wistfully at the bottle that still is too far to reach, and too empty besides. Looking at it only diverts her attention to the humidity the fan is doing little for, the sweat trickling down her back.

She shakes her head. Do not divert your attention. Her colleague shoots her an understanding look, as she explains the prescription once again. He nods, with a quiet ‘thank you.’ She nods back at him as he leaves.

‘Ma’am?’ She turns once more. If nothing else, she muses wryly, choosing medicine has definitely taught me to multitask. The students lead the first man back to her, their clinical skills enthusiastic if a touch inexperienced. One of the girls excitedly details the sound of an ejection click. She smiles, lending the younger girl her own stethoscope. The girl listens in with the man’s permission in quiet absorption, the ritual being repeated by each of her friends, all of them clearly awed.

The gentleman looks amused at the furore the click of his valves, amplified by his metallic pacemaker, has elicited. She corrects them when needed, leading to a response of all heads nodding at once.

As the clock strikes 1, the students ask for leave to disperse and the crowd of patients mercifully thins. She tells them to go and come back for a short class in the evening, finally leaving behind the pursuit of her elusive lunch and the all-important water.

Her lunch in front of her, her thirst finally quenched, she ruffles through her iPad for information to make the class slides for tomorrow’s discussion. All too soon the short break is over, the slides still unfinished, and she stands, following her friends out of the Duty Doctors’ Room to go on ward rounds. Her eyes flit to a notification on her News app, of a doctor being beaten by goons. She sighs. There is no use pondering over this. I can only do my best. She knows protests do little good, so she hardens her heart and strides out, sliding her phone in her pocket.

Somewhere in the middle of the rounds, the students following her and the senior doctor like ducklings following mother duck, one of them comes running to her. ‘Ma’am,’ his voice is high with fear. She gives him her immediate attention. ‘There’s a man on that bed…’ the boy points, ‘…17, he’s…he’s not really breathing.’

Oh, no. Her friend steps up, running to the patient, while she looks for his details, adrenaline sharpening her senses.

He is a new patient, there is next to nothing on his chart. She can hear a lady wailing and she winces. No one should see their loved one in such a situation, she thinks, even as she squares her shoulders, moving towards the bed, shaking her head at her friend, who had already started CPR. She gently moves the lady aside, trying to console her, even when there is fear in her own heart that the news she might have to deliver could be irredeemable.

‘Doctor?’ asks the lady querulously, ‘you’ll save him, won’t you?’ She looks down for a moment, before meeting the lady’s gaze. ‘We will do our best,’ she replies quietly, grave as the situation is. The lady nods, tears still pooling in her eyes.

She can hear her friend panting. Quiet and quick, she swaps her place with him, continuing CPR. He shoots her a grateful look. She turns her attention to the patient. Between the three of them, they manage to get the patient breathing, she notes with relief. That relief doesn’t last long, though, as she looks the patient over. The catheter connected to him, filled with orange urine, the gross ascites and icterus. He’s on Rifampicin. TB with hepatic encephalopathy. One glance at her friend tells her that he, too, is thinking the same.

The lady with the patient…his wife by the sound of it, reads the grave news on their faces, facilitated, perhaps, by her intubated husband’s gasps of breath. She sinks into the bars of the hospital bed for support. She is at a loss for a moment, as she always is when confronted by the inevitability of death. She kneels then, her hand on the lady’s shoulder, silently commiserating.

When she stands, she looks at the downcast yet awed students and forces a smile. ‘Well,’ she says, stopping them as they turn away, towards the exit, clearly assuming that class is cancelled for the day. She has no intention of doing that, though. They need to learn that life doesn’t stop for those of us still hale.

At the sound of her voice, they turn as one, looking at her with eyes comparable in size to dinner dishes. ‘I’ll just wash my hands and come back,’ she says firmly. ‘You guys go wait in the Duty Doctors’ Room for your class.’ They keep staring at her for a few moments. ‘Go on,’ she instructs. They obey, darting reverential glances at her, talking in hushed whispers. How could someone literally save a life and just go back to normal like that? She hears one of their voices, quiet, dazzled. Despite knowing the truth, the innocent fascination in the boy’s face makes her smile.

I don’t know! She hears one of his friends reply. I want to be a doctor like that, when I finish my degree, when we really become doctors, the girl says, making her smile wider. The younger girl sounds like a young child deciding the goal of her life.  

She tamps down the giddy joy and the grief simultaneously warring inside her, long since used to contradictory emotions, keeping a straight face as she strides to the washbasin.

When she enters the Duty room for the class, they’re discussing the exposure she could have had. She smiles wryly for a moment. This kind of exposure is a fact of life, she nearly blurts out, deciding not to, enjoying their impressed approval for a moment, before she clears her throat.

They all look abashed. She decides to proceed as if the moment before had not occurred, which was helped by one of them asking about the man she had done the CPR on. She summarises the case, gives them a few topics to read on and sends them home.

Before leaving the hospital proper, she circulates the wards once more. The CPR patient crashes again. This time, though they try long and hard, the lose the man, the beat of his heart forever silenced.

Her senior takes responsibility of the formalities, telling her to leave. Leave she does, casting one last glance back at the shell of the man, helplessness overtaking her for a moment.

She checks in with her colleague manning the night shift if she is free to go, fighting the uncanny feeling of déjà vu that comes with every patient they lose suddenly, the realisation striking anew that life goes on.

It is a leisurely walk back to hostel, the cool air soothing on her sweat-soaked shirt. She is thinking once more of the next day’s presentation, the number of slides still left to finish off.

After a quick wash-up and dinner, she sits with her iPad. It is nearly midnight when she finishes her work, fighting her drooping eyes. She checks in her WhatsApp, shooting a quick goodnight to her parents. The statues of her medico friends are full of calls for justice against the recent violence. Her non-medico friends are, as usual, conspicuously silent on the matter.

Ah, well, she thinks, it’s not like armchair social media posts can actually do much. Besides, this is not an issue that they face. Why judge? They’re probably thinking the same I do.

 She debates posting a status of her own then decides against it, for again, social media can only do so much. The bitter truth can’t be changed.

Her mother’s voice echoes in her head, what mama had said the last time she had shared news of such violence. At least they didn’t kill him. You people get a lot of respect, you know?

She shakes her head, banishing those thoughts. She doesn’t want to have nightmares. Besides, tomorrow, she has to report for ID duty. She needs to be well rested for that. So she thinks of the awestruck students, the young girl’s voice playing in her head. I want to be a doctor like that, she said, when I finish my degree.

She falls asleep with a smile on her face.

When she is leaving for duty the next morning, she loops her stethoscope along the back of her throat, the diaphragm of the steth sitting firmly over her own beating heart. Time for another day at work.

Some terms that might be unknown:

Ejection Click: In some patients with heart problems, there is some backflow of the blood when the heart contracts. This backflow is heard as a ‘click’ sound when a stethoscope is used. This ‘click’ is amplified if the patient has a prosthetic metallic valve, as in case of the old gentleman in the story who is based on a real patient.

Rifampicin: A drug that is part of the four-drug regimen for Tuberculosis (TB). It increases the effect of another drug in the combination, Isoniazid, which is toxic to the liver. India has a huge number of cases of TB, being one of the TB-endemic countries. The orange urine is one of the most noticeable side-effects of using this drug.

Hepatic encephalopathy: Loss of proper brain function due to inability of liver to remove toxins. The patient on whom CPR was administered was in a coma due to this condition. He, too, was based on a real patient.

Ascites: Swelling of the abdomen due to accumulation of fluid in the abdomen.

Icterus: Yellowing of the sclera  (whites of the eyes) and bulbar conjuctiva, a hallmark of jaundice.

The doctor here makes the diagnosis of TB with drug induced hepatic encephalopathy because of the ascites and icterus combined with the rifampicin usage and the coma. It is an unfortunately common condition here. 

I just noticed that I haven't clarified ID Duty. It means Infectious Diseases ward duty. In this case, I meant COVID-19 duty, though it may not always mean that.

[sxvxrxssnape]

minerva mcgonagall’s personal mission to make severus love christmas part 4 

aka snolidays/snapemas day 5 and 6 (lights festival, food, memories, stockings) // pre-PS/the years between. minerva and severus friendship // ft. the hogwarts staff gently bullying sev and getting wine drunk together. mentions of sev’s plum blancmange @deepperplexity @blog4snape

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of teaching, brewing, and general sulking. 

The term wouldn’t end until late January, but final exams were scheduled for the week before winter break and Severus had a thousand other things to finalize before the break started. There was a stack of assignments he needed to grade before everyone parted, the annual inventory that needed to be done, and he had about half a dozen cauldrons slowly simmering away with potions for the infirmary, not to mention he was creating both a study guide for the upcoming exam and an assignment that could be turned in for extra credit.

If even one student dared to fail his class after all the effort he put into making sure they passed, he was going to turn them all into frogs. 

He almost felt bad that he hadn’t made much time for Minerva, and aside from seeing each other at meals - and even then, Severus wasn’t quite known for his perfect attendance in the Great Hall - he hadn’t spoken more than eight words to her since their trip to Diagon Alley. 

It wasn’t as if he were avoiding her. 

Much.

He just needed a few days to himself - as much as he could get when he taught two classes a day (three on Wednesdays and Thursdays) anyway. He knew the only reason they hadn’t talked about his miniscule breakdown was because they had been in public and maybe he was a little afraid of being cornered by her in private. 

It was Friday now, his afternoon class had just ended, he had already checked on the status of his cauldrons, so all that was left on his to-do list was to hide himself away inside of his quarters and sulk.

Except he was all out of sugar.

Alright, not the worst problem to have and yes, he could call up a house elf and simply ask for the container to be refilled, but maybe a small part of him wanted to run into Minerva on neutral ground, so he wouldn’t have to knock on her door and risk coming off as lonely and needy. So rather than being a normal-functioning adult about this, he took his coffee ground-filled french press and flooed directly into the staff lounge.

He didn’t spend very much time in this particular room - large, brightly lit, and nestled between two towers somewhere on the fourth floor with large windows that overlooked the quidditch pitch - but it wasn’t for lack of trying. He found the lounge to be rather appealing, with its burning fireplace, sitting area, stacks of abandoned books, journals, and magazines, abundance of cabinets he liked to rifle through, and best of all, the fully stocked coffee bar off to the left of the round table. 

The room wasn’t empty, and unfortunately, devoid of the person whom he was seeking. Pomona was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, poring over a stack of papers with a furrowed brow and a bit of ink smeared over her cheek. Aurora was sitting on the lone couch, momentarily distracted from the magazine she had been leafing through to look up at him as he entered, eyebrow raised at the contraption he cradled. 

“What brings you here?” she asked, flicking her wand towards the record player and lowering the music that had been softly playing.

The action caused the herbology professor to look up and she frowned. “Oh, Severus.” she greeted, barely giving him more than a cursory glance. “I haven’t seen you here in a bit; thought you might have forgotten where it was.”

“Well, he did floo.” Professor Sinistra returned, her lips curling into a grin. “It’s quite possible he forgot where to find the door.”

“I didn’t forget.” Severus scowled, making his way towards the bar. 

“You tell yourself that.”

“There’s tea if you want some.” Pomona called out, raising her own teacup. “Mint.”

He ignored the steaming teapot in favor of the kettle, flicking his wand to heat up the water before pouring a little over the grounds in the press. He missed the simple pleasures of having an electric coffee maker - perhaps the only positive that came from summers at Spinner's End - but he would be lying if he said he didn’t prefer the taste of the pretentious, one-cup-at-a-time brew.

While the grounds took the time to presoak, he wandered over to the pink pastry box and eyed its contents. The house elves always made sure to stock the staff room with snacks - biscuits, fruit, packages of crisps - but pastries from the local bakery were the most sought out after. 

“The blueberry strudel belongs to Filius,” Pomona suddenly mentioned, not looking up from her task, “he’s already claimed it.”

Severus scowled at the remaining treat. “He’s not here, is he?” he mumbled, opening the box. He yelped as something sharp pierced his hand and drew back immediately, his face coloring slightly as Aurora started laughing.

“Like she said,” Aurora chuckled. “Filius already claimed it.” 

Severus cursed under his breath and returned to his coffee, pulling down a clean mug and the sugar jar on the way. He was pouring the rest of the hot water when the door opened. 

“French press again?” Minerva’s voice asked.

“Like he makes it any other way.” Aurora returned. “Professor I-Brew-Potions-For-A-Living is, unsurprisingly, the coffee snob among us.” 

“I am not.” Severus frowned, placing the plunger over the glass and giving it a slight swirl before setting it aside. “It’s not my fault the rest of you don’t have any taste.” 

“Oh, the baby thinks he has taste.” 

Severus blinked. “Perhaps I’ll refrain from giving you a gift this year after all.” he muttered, glaring at her. “Also, you’re the second youngest professor here.”

“But not the youngest.” Aurora grinned. “That pleasure is all yours, I’m afraid.”

Before Severus could form a rebuttal, Pomona stood up and gathered her papers, rushing towards the door with an annoyed, “I can’t get any work done with you two around.” Aurora followed suit, magazine under her arm, a cheeky, “baby” escaping her lips as she closed the door behind her. 

Severus sat down in Pomona’s abandoned chair, hands in his hair, as he groaned out a, “I’m most definitely not giving her a gift now.”

Minerva laughed and sat down across from him, a cup of mint tea in her hands. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?”

“The lights?”

Minerva nodded and he considered her question as he got up to finish making his coffee. He grabbed milk from the cold cupboard and then stopped to look at her. “What if we went tonight, instead?”

“Tonight?”

Severus shrugged, sitting down with his cup and a package of biscuits. “We can grab dinner beforehand, I’m thinking Italian.”

“Really?”

“Invite some of the others.”

Minerva eyed him carefully. “Do my ears deceive me, Severus Snape, or are you suggesting a staff outing to see the lights? You?”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll let everybody know.” 

--

“I think we should hang the stockings in the staff room.”

“What?”

“The stockings.” Minerva emphasized, buttoning her capelet. She was standing in front of her dressing mirror, adjusting the green tartan fabric over her shoulders. She was wearing a long sleeved dress under it and, no doubt, a warming charm had already been cast over the black fabric. Her hair was free of its usual pins, the soft curls seemingly trying their best to retain their accustomed shape. 

They were both in her private quarters, Severus sprawled on her couch with a book, as she finished getting ready for their outing. He had opted for his usual black on black on black, but had foregone his cloak for the grey wool coat he rarely wore. 

So rarely, that when he put his hands in his pockets, he came across the crumpled ticket of a play he had seen two winters ago. 

He couldn’t remember much about the show itself, but it had been the first time he had been invited to go out by his fellow colleagues and he had jumped at the chance. Of course, he had first pretended to consider it for half a day before telling Albus that he had nothing better to do that day and that he might as well tag along.

“Are you listening?”

“No.” Severus admitted, returning to the present. 

Minerva scowled. “I said, we should hang the stockings we bought in the staff room. It’s got a fireplace and the room is awfully drab, don’t you think? Plus, it's neutral ground so both our stockings can be up together.”

“Well, alright.”

“Excellent, let’s go then.”

“Now?”

“We have dinner reservations at seven - which is in twenty minutes, I might add - so yes, right now. Before we’re late.”

They flooed into the staff lounge, finding Aurora leafing through a book and listening to music once again. She raised an eyebrow at the paper shopping bag they were carrying. 

“What’s this?”

“Christmas.” Minerva replied simply, pulling out a stocking and handing it over. His name was now stitched along the edge in black thread and he frowned. 

“When did-?”

“I asked the house elves when we first got back.”

They hung their stockings on the mantle with a temporary sticking charm and surveyed their work. 

“I expect the rest of you to have a stocking on here by next week.” Minerva insisted, taking Severus’ hand and leading him out the door. “Come now, or we’ll be late.”

“Aren’t you coming?” Severus asked Aurora, pretending to eye her teaching robes in confusion. “We’re going out to dinner and then the lights festival.”

Aurora scowled at him, eyeing him carefully. “I would, but I have a class tonight.” she muttered, glancing out the window at the darkened sky. It was cloudless and few stars could be seen from her vantage point; there was no reason to cancel Astronomy tonight.

“Oh, that’s a shame.” Severus shrugged, turning around quickly to hide his smirk. “I wouldn’t have chosen tonight if I knew.”

“Liar.” 

The door closed behind them. 

“You know I don’t approve of this.” Minerva told him, as they made their way down the stairs and out of the castle. 

“Don’t approve of what?”

Minerva shook her head at him, but didn’t answer.

They met Filius at the front door, his too-long blue scarf trailing behind him as they made their way towards the apparition point. They met Pomona on the way and once they cleared the wards, apparated into an alley close to the restaurant. 

Albus was already waiting inside, looking perfectly at ease in his three-piece suit, sipping on a glass of white wine.

“Ah, there you all are.” he greeted them, as they took their seats. “This wine is absolutely wonderful, by the way - do order a glass.”

“Someone dressed up for the occasion.” Minerva eyed the headmaster.

“I wear it quite well, don’t I?”

They were brought water glasses and bread, offered three types of wine - “I really must insist on the pinot gris.” Albus interrupted - and given a set of menus.

“It’s been a while since we’ve all gone out.” Filius mentioned, taking a slice of baguette and dipping it in olive oil and balsamic. “It’s quite nice.”

“We have Severus to thank for the idea,” Albus grinned, clasping a hand on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, but he didn’t think anyone noticed. 

Except for Albus, who immediately dropped his hand and offered an apologetic look. 

They ordered - and unsurprisingly, Minerva ordered herself the special - and fell into easy conversation as they waited for their meal. When the food arrived, it was met with excited sounds from the (perhaps a little wine-tispy) table and plates were quickly passed around with insistent, “You need to try this fried stracchino!” and “I swear, you will never taste a better beef stracotto pasta than this one.” and even a, “Listen, I know it sounds weird, but I’m telling you - you have to try the baccala! I don’t care if you don’t like fish!” 

The dessert menu left him a little discombobulated and he ordered himself coffee while the others shared rum babas and marzipan balls. One of the rum soaked sponge cakes was pushed towards him, split down the middle and filled with cream and sour cherries. He glanced up from his bicerin to find Minerva watching him.

“Try it, before these vultures get to it.” 

He obliged, cutting a piece off with his fork. 

“Why are you frowning?” Minerva asked, leaning closer. The others were a little pink-faced, laughing, as they played a game of rock-parchment-diffundo for the last chocolate and marzipan ball. “We are eating delicious food and drinking delicious wine - two things I know you like - and then we’re going to see the lights with all our friends. You shouldn’t be frowning.”

“I think you’ve had enough wine.” 

She made a face at him. “Oh, let me guess.” she pursed her lips. “You have some sort of traumatic childhood memory involving all of this and you are currently reliving it in your head.”

Severus scowled. “I don’t have a traumatic memory for everything.”

“Could have fooled me.” Pomona spoke up, inserting herself into their conversation. The others stopped and turned to look at him. “You’re so grumpy all the time, I just figured your whole life was simply continuous trauma.”

“I’ll revoke your christmas gift too, don’t test me.”

Pomona straightened up. “Oh, you got me a gift?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie!” Pomona grinned, pointing at him. “You got me a gift!”

“Don’t think you’re special.” Severus muttered. “It’s not just you.”

“Severus got us all gifts!” Filius realized. “Severus loves us!”

He made eye contact with the headmaster. “Consider this my official resignation.”

Albus nodded, his expression turning serious. “Of course, my boy, I understand.” His eyes twinkled. “It’s a shame my staff cannot be more professional when they venture out of the castle walls, but alas, there is a reason I do not let them wander far.” 

“Truly awful.”

“Severus loves us!” Pomona repeated and the table burst into giggles, save for Severus who covered his face with his hands. And he was the youngest of this lot?

They paid soon after that - Severus discretely cancelling the silencing and repelling charms they had cast on their table to hurry them along - and made their way towards the nearby park where the lights festival had been set up. The others wandered off on their own, leaving Minerva and Severus to walk the paths alone. 

Once the others had wandered far enough ahead that their conversation would no longer carry, Minerva learned slightly into her friend, nudging his shoulder. “Now will you tell me?”

“It’s not a traumatic childhood memory, if that’s what you mean.”

“But you did remember something.” Minerva pressed. 

“Yes.”

The path they walked was illuminated by tiny orbs, leading towards a tunnel strung with hundreds of white and blue lights. As they walked through it, Severus fell silent and simply looked up, sneaking glances of the night sky beyond the wire cage that held up all the lights. 

There was a giant christmas tree waiting for them when they exited the tunnel, made entirely of green and gold twinkles - strings of lights pulled taut from a metal pole and pinned onto the ground. Similar displays surrounded it, contraptions of metal and colored lights creating bow-tied gift boxes and ornaments, stars and snowflakes, all glowing in the dark. 

All the natural trees were wrapped in lights as well, not a single twig or branch left uncovered. Giant, glowing candy canes dotted the path now and they followed it, taking in every sparkling display. Music was playing and though others wandered the path, no one stood too close. 

“I remember my mum used to make this dessert when I was little, it was a blancmange made from dirigible plum and cardamom, I believe." 

"Oh?"

"She used to tell my father they were persimmons." he smiled softly. "Said she learned the recipe from her grandmother. It was probably my favorite part of the holiday break. I helped her make it one year; funnily enough, that was also the last Christmas I had with her."

"You said it wasn't a traumatic memory." Minerva scolded. 

"It's not." Severus defended himself. "It's one of my only good ones."

"There was blancmange on the menu." Minerva remembered, smiling sadly. She watched a pair of children run between the candy canes, their laughs echoing as they chased each other. 

"Fig leaf and orange." Severus recited. "It made me realize I haven't seen anywhere serve that particular dessert, let alone one made from dirigible plums. I miss it."

"Perhaps we could make it."

"You think?"

"Why not?" 

Minerva nodded towards a coffee stall and they ordered themselves the gingerbread hot chocolate. They cradled their red paper cups and took small sips as they wandered through the park, pointing out certain displays. 

"Perhaps nostalgia is getting the best of me." Severus finally circled back to their conversation. "But I find myself wanting to try. I don't have much left to remind me of her, especially not without also thinking of my father, but that one? That one's all ours."

"Elphinstone and I used to make a yule log cake." Minerva offered. "Down to the mushroom meringues and everything."

"I've never had one."

"Well, perhaps a baking day is in order."

"Perhaps it is." 

-----

a/n: this is starting to feel more like minerva and severus' adventures in eating out

hope you enjoyed the staff picking on my problem child a little

menu inspiration comes from bocca di lupo, london (sometimes i wonder if places ever search themselves to see what people are saying and find they're being featured in harry potter fanfics and the like)

stracchino - a soft, creamy cheese which the restuarant serves fried stracotto - italian pot roast, served with pasta here baccala - preserved, salted cod (fried) bicerin - a hot drink made from espresso, drinking chocolate, and milk blancmange - this one's special because i took a direct quote from the hogwarts mystery game, where sev reminisces about this dessert and gave it more backstory. its a sort of gelatin dessert, sweet and milky. bocca di lupo has a fig and orange panna cotta on their menu, which is basically the same thing (just different thickeners) so i traded it out for the sake of using the one tidbit i know about the game.

[vintagevalentinex]

Decode, III

Alright folks!  Here is the next installation!

Please be gentle.  There are elements in this chapter that are very personal to me.  Some from personal experience, so I apologize if this “reader” isn’t exactly like you.

As always, please leave me some feedback!

xoxo

Decode, III by vintagevalentinexx Mycroft Holmes x Reader ~1825 words

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.  

You steadied your breathing as you leaned against the wall in the hallway.  You hated when people stared like that, as if you were something other than a human being.  You dealt with those looks your entire life.  It was hard for you to help; you couldn’t help how easily some things came to you, it was just the way your mind worked.  It was the way you were hard-wired, and yet it was as though you were penalized for it.  The memories of grade school came rushing back, being bored because you had finished your work, being yelled at for reading a book, being made fun of and ridiculed by the other kids because you were more interested in ancient civilizations and cultures instead of MTV.  You kept your eyes shut as you tried to calm yourself down, feeling your heart slowly retain its normal speed.

“I suppose we got off on the wrong foot, Professor.”

Your eyes snapped open, revealing Mycroft Holmes staring intently at you.  It wasn’t in an overly affectionate way.  It was more out of curiosity.  His eyes lit up with understanding as you tried not to wither under his gaze.

“(Y/N), please call me (Y/N)…”

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with you, (Y/N).  If anything, there’s something wrong with all of them.”

You smiled softly, gratefully at him, feeling your breathing return to normal.

“Thank you, Mr. Holmes.”

Before he could even speak, another voice joined the conversation.

“Really now Mycroft, deducing the professor without her knowledge?  For shame.”

“As if you’re one to talk, Sherlock.  I’m sure that (Y/N) doesn’t mind.”

“Oh so you’re on a first name basis now?  How sweet.”

“She told us her name in the car, Sherlock.”

You were going to get whiplash with how quickly your head moved back and forth as you listened to them bicker yet again.

“Could you two please stop for one moment?!  What are you going on about?”

They both looked at you now; you were starting to really hate that.

“Mycroft was deducing you, not comforting you, Professor.”

“Deducing me?”

Mycroft took a deep breath, looking almost guilty as he had been found out.

“Sherlock it’s not the appropriate time or place for—“

“Nonsense.  Now Professor…By observing the way that you are dressed, it is quite simple to surmise that you strive to appear feminine, something that the overwhelming majority of your colleagues is not.  By overtly dressing in a manner which is quite opposite to that of the people whom which you work, it is a clear choice that you have made.  If I were to guess, my thought would be that it has been a way for you to stand out amongst your colleagues.  In a male dominated field such as yours, you have needed to be able to stand out as to not fall to the wayside.  Because of the demographics in your field, you have constantly had to prove yourself worthy of recognition and praise—“

“How did—“

“That brings us to the quality of your clothing.  It is actually quite good quality, which informs us that you invest in items that you wish to last.  While you may appear to be superficial and materialistic, you in all actuality just maintain your belongings as can be evidenced by the black permanent marker covering up the scuffing on your shoes—“

“I…I…”

“Sherlock, please—“

“Furthermore, from your behavior from before and now out here it is quite obvious that you, despite your superior intellect, suffer from anxiety dealing with social situations, and I would venture to guess in other situations as well.  This probably stems from several childhood experiences that—“

“Enough, Sherlock!”

You weren’t sure how you felt about the elder Holmes, but at that moment you were truly appreciative that he was able to make Sherlock stop.  At first, it was quite impressive that Sherlock was able to pull information merely from what you were wearing.  But as he continued, it became more and more uncomfortable for you to be scrutinized in such a manner.  Before he began he stated that Mycroft was deducing you as well.  Did he come to all those conclusions as well?  This was just too much.   You didn’t ask for any of this, and you weren’t going to stick around for it any longer.  Sherlock faced you once more, amusement shining in his eyes.

“My apologies, (Y/N). I wasn’t aware that you would be so…sentimental.”

You looked him right in the eyes, trying to keep your temper and feelings in check.

“While that is quite impressive, Sherlock, it only took me a mere glance at you to know that you are an immature prick.  Now seeing as I was brought here against my own volition and I am not getting compensated for any of this…this…lunacy, I will be leaving.  I hope to never waste another breath speaking to you.”

You turned away from the brothers, squaring your shoulders as you made your way towards the exit, feeling hot tears threatening to escape.

It was easy enough to hail a cab, giving the cabbie the directions back to your hotel.  Before you sped away, you gave one last glance toward the doors of the precinct, your eyes catching the older, wiser ones of Mycroft Holmes.

By the time you arrived back to your hotel you were absolutely exhausted.  Between giving an important presentation to further your career, being introduced to both of those Holmes brothers, and the nonsense down at Scotland Yard, you had certainly had your fill of London for a very long time.  You were longing for your own bed, and a stack of finals that would await your grading the following week.  All you wanted to do now was have a glass of wine, a bubble bath, and some peace before your flight tomorrow morning.

“Pardon me, but it seems as though my room key isn’t working.”

The women at the desk typed in your information, her eyebrows furrowing.  

“I’m sorry ma’am, but you are correctly checked out of your room.  Quite recently actually…”

“That’s impossible!  I’ve been out of the hotel nearly all day.  Please, is there something you can do?  Where are my belongings?!”

“That’s all I can tell you ma’am.  If you’re belongings aren’t on your person, there is not much I can do for you.”

You were about to give the reception a piece of your mind when you heard someone call your name.

“Excuse me, are you (Y/N)?”

You looked up, a pretty brunette with her eyes glued to her phone apparently was speaking to you.

“Um yes, yes I am. Can I help you?”

“All of your things have been moved to your new room, out of this decrepit hotel—“

Decrepit?  This wasn’t the best hotel in all of London, but you sure as hell weren’t staying in a hostel…

“You are being put in more suitable accommodations.  You should find that all of your belongings are there.”

“First of all, who the hell do you think you are switching my reservations?  I am certainly not paying for all of this?  How were you able to do this in the first place?  Who the hell are you?!”

You tried to keep your voice down but you had had enough for one evening.  It was at this point the pretty brunette looked up from her phone.

“My name is Anthea. I work with Mr. Holmes, and he has tasked me with making sure that you are given proper hotel accommodations for your stay in London.  Now if you would please come with me…”

“Did you say Mr. Holmes? Please tell me it’s not the one with the curly hair…because I’m a mere moment away from eviscerating him.”

She laughed, “No, but that does sound like him.  Please follow me; I’m sure you are quite tired.”

What other choice did you have?  Hopefully you wouldn’t end up dead in a ditch.  It was only for one night, after all.

You were barely in the room as you let out a soft gasp.  It was the most luxurious thing you’d ever seen.  Was this really necessary?  Plush carpeting, soft lighting, and a bed that looked as though if you lied down in it you would have to be surgically removed from its comfort.  

“Why…why did he do this?”

Without even looking up from her phone, Anthea replied.  “He wanted to extend his gratitude for your help earlier in the day…and his apologies for the event following your help.  Goodnight.”

She’s a real conversationalist.

You looked around the room, seeing that all your things had been put neatly away, the bed turned down for you, a bottle of wine next to the bed.  You spied a note on the pillow.

(Y/N),

I deeply apologize for my brother’s antics earlier today.  He seems to have no understanding over decorum as well as minding his own business. Please accept this upgrade to your lodgings as a request for forgiveness.

I must say, I was quite impressed with the ease at which you solved the coded message.  Perhaps the Scotland Yard could use your help.

I do hope to hear from you soon.

–M

You fell asleep in your clothes, too tired to even move, and too comfortable to escape the clutches of the bed.

[3 New Voicemails.]

Great, what could this be now?

[4:45 am] We deeply apologize, but your scheduled flight has been cancelled.  Please call back at your earliest convenience to reschedule.

Wonderful.

[5:00 am] Hello (Y/N), I know it’s early over there but it’s quite late here.  I am so pleased to hear that you are helping the Scotland Yard in such a riveting case. Do not worry about your request; take all the time you need in helping them solve their case!  Let me know how it goes!

What the hell?  I never put in any kind of leave of absence at the university?  What is going on?  

[5:15 am] Professor, this is Detective Inspector Lestrade.  Please give us a ring when you can.  We have two more coded messages that we could use your help on.

What is happening?  Who moved my flight and called the University?

[1 New Text Message.]

[6:44 am] I hope by now you understand what has been put into motion.  I apologize for the abruptness of it all, but it had to be done.  Allow me to make it up to you in some way.  Please let me know, this number is secure. –M

You were going to kill him.  How dare he?  He’d better have more than one pretty little girl surrounding him when you got your hands on him.

You furiously texted him back on your phone, throwing it across the bed when you were done.

[6:51 am] Fuck off.

Next Part!

[editorialsonlife]

hello tumblr world its been a while since there’s been a proper update here so prepare for a dump and a half my friends because the last few weeks have been a fun trip (and that’s not even including the bloody US elections OMG)

we went to hawkes bay, so that was a good time. NOT. we turned up late because we slept in which was a great time. and also very fortuante because we arrived and no one came out to say hello which is terrible weird. So we start unloading the car and walking to the door and paul eventually emerged and was like, oh your mother’s just taking a nap we’re a bit tired. we only got home from the hospital an hour ago’. alaring for several reasons. 

the last couple of times this has happened, dave’s grandma died, his grandfather died, paul was in hospital for a suspected heart attack, paul had a heart attack & was flown to wellington for emergency surgery. let alone all the other family dramas in the intervening times. 

so it turns out that she threw her back out badly, fell over, and ended up in hospital when they couldn’t get on top of the pain with their sizable drug haul (pharmacist families man). didn’t think to text or call or give us a heads up in any way. when I asked why they wouldn’t text the response was, and I quote “Well she wasn’t dying so we didn’t think it was important’. like, fucking wow bitches. 

She couldn’t move without crying and groaning like she was in labour, she couldn’t move without a walker, she was on morphine, coedine, steroids and antiinflammatories, and still fucking miserable. 

poor dave was so stressed out. it was actually just a fucking horrible weekend. a) seeing another human in that much pain who utterly refused to do anything about it and still is

b) not being told the full story about whats going on, although I did read her medical discharge notes when they were both asleep 

c) seeing poor fucking dave stressed to shit because who the fuck knows whats going on and that’s his mum hes watching in so much pain. 

it was fucking horrible. never again. and walking into it with no warning was just the shittest thing of all. 

I was so fucking angry when we got home. like, ridiculous. I’m still raging tbh. guess who’s place we’re not going to for christmas?? 

So that was our five days of leave, and our holiday, once again shat all over (at least it wasn’t covid this time?!?)

got home on monday evening and went to send an email to work to be like hey homies not showing up tomorrow, need a day to recover to find out I had a client meeting at 830 the next morning I had to attend which was so  hard to get through. here, let’s pitch for 80k of work which isn’t going to solve any of your problems? why not. it makes me so mad. SO MAD. 

rolled through that and our team meeting and a colleague was like how are you doing? just about burst into tears so I peaced out of there. turned up to counselling on thursday, didnt even make it into the room and anne was like, you seem angry? I was like, mmmmm no, don’t think angry quite covers it mate. so that was great. 

got to last weekend, was meant to be meeting friends for brunch but there was a massive crash on the motorway so we ended up driving somewhere else which was an hour each way so that basically ruined the day but it was a lovely brunch anyway, had a great time. best smashed avo and lots of cuddles with little miss izz who is not so little anymore but so gorgeous!! Had a great day on sunday, finished off a bunch of work (yes, work is insanely busy right now, such fun, will be working again this weeked), got heaps of planting done, mowed the lawns, hung my artwork, finally felt like I was back on a happy even keel (fuck life is nice not having permanent anxiety) only to be sitting in a meeting on monday afternoon to find out homegrown is on the same day as our wedding. the second wedding since the first one was cancelled. 

I pretty much just lost my shit. honestly. why is it so fucking hard to just organise something to celebrate being married. legit feel like the universe is just fucking with us at the moment and like, did we even make the right decision doing all of this? because every time we try and do something it gets fucked over and its v stressful. and yes i know we’re lucky to be covid free and be able to plan these safely and everything else but like, honestly. I’m so over it. every holiday this year has been fucked over, the wedding was done, the family reaction was so shit, like, its just ridiculous. the worst part was I came home in rage mode and dave came home in problem solving mode and was like, we can fix this and like, yeah, i know we can, but like, I’m fucking sick of making do. It’s meant to be one of the best days of our lives, and we’re already onto plan fucking c for it, and just like, I’m done with it? I’m just done. I cannot be assed. I don’t want to email everyone, I don’t want to reschedule all this shit, I don’t want to reorganise all my hair appointments, I don’t want to have to worry about the weather and rebooking it all and dealing with all this fucking shit. I’m so done. I’ve done it twice already I don’t want to do it again. RAGE. anyway. survived monday night, the week did not get any better, work got worse, and the PMS hit fucking hard yesterday. cried before work, cried at the stupid 8am meeting, cried turning up to anne and was like, I have an hour to get this all out of my system before client meetings in the afternoon. 

and hot damn, god bless best friends, because bish messaged me and was like, lets do lunch homie, so we went to the botanic gardens and sat there and had the most insane conveersation ranking the best flavours of shapes, then biscuits, then crackers. and honestly, it was the pointless, best, most lighthearted discussion and everything I needed and I love her so much. 

all I can say now is thank fucking god it’s friday, and its the weekend, and we have zero plans beyond going to mitre 10. I’m gunna order all my christmas presents online this weekend adn get that out of the way. need to do a couple of laods of washing, hopefully only like 6 hours of work, but like, it’s gunna be chill. and I’m v relieved. 

she’s been a bit of a nightmare. 

HOWEVER

despite all this complaining, looking back on where I was a year ago, like fuck me i am in so much of a better place mentally and life is just so much better. I’m so relieved. and period binge aside, physically I’m getting better too so I’m gunna take it all as a massive win. week in adn week out its been a grind, and it’s been uncomfortable and hard and horrible at times but man, coming out the other side is such a relief. having capacity to do things like supporting a friend through her current nightmare and managing dave and dealing with all the work stress makes such a fucking difference honestly. it’s also nice to feel like I can manage myself better so I can look after everyone else better too. 

Feeling v grateful for this little life of mine, and the people in it, and for being in this little corner of the world. I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I am so so so so so grateful for it. 

[somethinginthewayiam]

PRESSing matters (Part 3)

Pairing: Ben x reader

Words: 1783

Warnings: none

Summary: It’s the day after your little incident with Ben. A lot of work during the day prevents you to spend too much time with him and an opportunity presents itself to give him his own room. Would this be enough to keep him out of yours?

a/n: Tag list is still open if you want to be added!

Previous chapter: Part 2

You woke up the second the alarm on your phone went off. You found yourself in the same position you had fallen asleep in last night. Ben’s body pressed against your back, his strong arm across your waist, your feet entangled. You could feel his breath on your neck. You carefully moved his arm away and shuffled to the end of the bed to grab your phone. You turned off the alarm and walked straight to the bathroom to catch a cold shower to wake you up.

About twenty minutes later, you came back out, a big towel wrapped around your body, your still wet hair leaving drops of water on your shoulders and back. You walked over to your suitcase and grabbed a fresh set of clothes to change into.

“Morning”, you heard from the bed. You turned around to find Ben looking at you out of tired eyes, still wrapped in his blanket. His hair was all over the place. You had never seen anything cuter.

“Morning”, you said with a smile and quickly turned around again before he could see you blush. “What time is it?”, he mumbled and rubbed his eyes, a big yawn washing over his face. You walked over to the nightstand and checked your phone. “Almost seven”, you answered him. “AM?”, he asked shocked. “I can’t sleep all day”, you commented with a chuckle at his facial expression. “All day? Is the sun even up?”, he asked and turned over to the curtains. Instead of answering him, you walked over to the windows and pulled back the curtains. Bright sunlight filled the hotel room.

“Good god”, he grunted and pulled the blanket over his head. “You don’t have to get up yet, but I have a lot to do today”, you told him and walked back to the bathroom with your clothes in hand.

You blow-dried your hair, got dressed and put your hair up in a pony tail. When you got out, Ben was still in bed. “I think I’ve changed my mind. It’s time you get up too”, you walked over and pulled the blanket off him. You had completely forgotten that he was just wearing a boxer short and were a bit startled as his almost naked body presented himself to you.

Flashes of last night appeared in your head, you almost heard his moans in your ear. You quickly let go of the blanket, hiding your blushing face.

“I need to go, see you later”, you said while grabbing your phone and purse. You left the room so quickly that he didn’t even had the chance to say goodbye.

You rode down with the elevator and walked across the lobby. “Excuse me, Miss?”, you heard from the receptionist’s desk. It took you a moment to realize she meant you, as your mind was already in the middle of today’s To-Do list.

“Yes?”, you asked and stepped closer. It was a different woman that yesterday, but your special friend stood a few feet away, talking to another guest of the hotel. “I heard that there were some problems with the rooms you had booked yesterday”, she said to you and at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed. “Well, problems is a mild way of putting it. It was one too few”, you told her and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “We can’t express of how sorry we are that this even had happened. But I got good news for you. We had a last-minute cancellation and now have a room available for you”, she presented to you. That was indeed good news!

“Great. At least there is one person who is doing her job”, you couldn’t help to bite back and looked over to the woman from yesterday. You knew she heard you, as she tensed up and held up a fake smile while working on her computer.

“The mini-bar will of course be comped”, she assured you. “For all six rooms”, you didn’t say it as a question. She looked a bit startled. “Yes…of course”, she then quickly confirmed. “Great! I need to go now, but please bring the keycards for the new room up to 623. You can give it to the person I was sharing a room with”, you advised her, shouldered your bag and left the lobby.

You grabbed some breakfast on the way. You rushed from one place to the other, confirming reservations and VIP-packages for the parties. You helped buying last minute stuff for all the stylists.

You ran around all day that you missed out on lunch and couldn’t even make it to the early dinner with the cast before they headed to their next events. That was probably for the best as you had yourself starving to fit into whatever dress Rami’s stylist Ilaria had picked out for you. You hadn’t even seen it yourself. Tomorrow you would be able to have a first and final fitting, which was a bit mental doing it a day before the event.

During the day, you saw that you had gotten a few texts from Ben, but you always had to swipe them off your screen due to a phone call or work e-mails. On your final way back to the hotel, carrying about five bags of utensils for the stylists, you had a few minutes to yourself as you sat in a cab.

“Was last night so bad that you had me thrown out of our room?”, he asked with a winking emoji. Your stomach jumped a bit at the word “our”, which was so stupid, you knew yourself. There would never be something “our” with you and Ben. You knew it was a mistake, but you were also glad that it happened in a way. You would never forget the sounds he made when you had his cock in your hand or the look on his face when he came.

You crossed your legs and had to clear your throat as you felt a little hot flash washing over you along with the memory of it.

Shortly before you arrived at the hotel, the event manager for tonight had emailed you the pass codes for the party. As you stepped out of the cab, you forwarded it to Pam with one hand, paying the driver with the other.

In the lobby, you ran into the cast and Pam. “Just got it, thanks Y/N”, Pam said, you had spotted you first and held up her phone. “Great, sorry it was so last minute”, you apologized, for something that was not your fault, and blew a loose strand of hair out of your face. Your hands were packed with the bags and your purse was about to fall off your shoulder. Very inelegantly, you tried to push it back up by moving around your shoulder in big motions.

“Hey, we missed you at dinner”, Joe said as he followed Pam, the other ones right behind him. “Well…”, you said and held up the bags as an explanation. You saw Ben trying to catch your eye, but you deliberately avoided his stare. But you noticed how hot he looked.

“Are Ilaria and Grace still upstairs?”, you asked directly at Pam. “Yes, but they’re already packing up for tonight”, she told you and was on her phone again. “Good, I’m just turning these up before they leave”, you said and nodded at the bags in your hands. “I think we need to go now”, Pam said and motioned the cast towards the exit of the hotel. “Have fun, guys”, you said and hurried to the elevators to catch the stylists before they left.

When you finally arrived at your room, you fell on your bed, out of breath. What a day! The room was tidy and the bed was made. You would never guess what had happened here last night. Although, you had shared your room with Ben for one night only, it was weird to be alone now.

You needed a shower. It was quite a warm day in L.A. for February and you felt sweaty and sticky and very tired from running around all day. And above all, you had almost an entire day of e-mails and other work waiting for you on your laptop. You had to remind yourself that you were here to work and not on holiday.

You grunted as you got up from the bed to take that well-deserved shower. Then you ordered a salad from room service and got into comfy sleeping clothes. You reached for your laptop and turned it on. You remembered that you were able to use the mini-bar without having to pay for it.

You grabbed the little champagne bottle and a pack of peanuts out of it and set up your little work place in the middle of the bed.

You had to do some pre-work for your next project, working on a press-tour schedule with a colleague that was back home in England, arranging appointments with a wide range of journalists, sending out requests, answering some others.

Until you had worked through only one day’s worth of mails, it was almost one AM. Your eyes felt like squares from looking at the computer screen all night. You rubbed them and had to yawn really long. You emptied the water bottle beside your bed and got up. You stretched yourself, bending over and shaking out your hair. Your back was hurting from sitting hunched over your laptop all night. Also, it was still so hot in your room that you took off your pants and walked over to crack a window.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job”, you mumbled to yourself as you shuffled to the bathroom with tired eyes. When you came back out, you closed your laptop and removed the leftover food from your bed to the little counter underneath the TV screen.

Suddenly you heard a knock at your door. Who the hell would that be at this hour? Was there a fire somewhere and you didn’t hear the alarm?

You walked over to the door, a little hesitant at first. You opened the door just a crack to find Ben leaning against your door frame. “Ben?”, you asked surprised and opened the door more. “Did anything happen?”, you asked alarmed as this seemed to be the only logical explanation why he would come to your door in the middle of the night.

“No, nothing happened. I…I just wanted to see you”, he said and slurred his speech a bit. You knew you would probably regret your next words. “Do you want to come in?”

Next chapter: Part 4

tag list:

@valentineash @the-limit-doesnt-exist @rogerspoison @rogermeddowstayl0r @i-am-sarah @unbound-chaos @goodiebluebox @the-borhap-boys

[7-obsessions]

The Concept of a Mystery

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18305648

The Department of Mysteries was a place few people ever dreamed of working; it took a hardened disposition to feel at home in a place that would never wholly make sense and an even stronger will to never talk about what exists in the bowels of the Ministry. Some details had inevitably slipped out, but the vital secrets stayed safe and sound with a tight knit crew of Unspeakables.

Luckily, work matters could be discussed among the Unspeakables themselves. Unluckily, Hermione had failed to create any friendships with her colleagues. She found them to be a slimy, untrustworthy group of people who seemed to have nonexistent lives outside of Level 9 of the Ministry...or a select few who could find work nowhere else in the Ministry after the War. Hermione was definitely not part of the latter—she had job offers pouring in from every job in the wizarding world that she could imagine—and she like to believe she wasn’t part of the former. Yet, the longer she worked in the Department, the less time she spent with friends or family or doing anything remotely non-work related. Her drive to learn everything about the wizarding world had overrun her whole life after she realized just how little she knew once she began uncovering mysteries.

Hermione, presently, was pondering one of the most mysterious projects that had wandered across her desk. Sometimes things just showed up around the Department, like every time a new prophecy was made it appeared in the Hall of Prophecies ready to be catalogued. Some things that showed up were more complex and completely unexpected, like the shimmering black shroud that was encased in a protective bubble hovering in the middle of her office. The project file lay on her desk, actually it was more of a single sheet that simply said:

Project 05292001A

Discovered: 6:25am, Entrance Chamber

Identity: Unknown

Task: Determine what this object is, how it got here and why. Further instructions dependant on initial findings.

Description: Black, sheer, somewhat glittery fabric. Appears as if it might be a shroud. Diagnostics show signs of unknown magical properties, possibly dark or ancient.

Notes: Recommended to NOT TOUCH until initial findings are complete as status of object is unknown. Partner will be assigned by end of day. Do not complete any research or testing unless with partner.

“Hermione, I see you’ve gotten the project file. Good. The Minister wishes to meet with you regarding the project as soon as you’ve read the file,” the rich, no-nonsense voice of her superior, Gwendolyn Walker, spoke from Hermione’s doorway.

“Considering this took less than a minute to read and I’ve already been in the office for twenty minutes, I’d say I’m already late. So tell me, what’s up with this project? First, I come into the office and discover I’ve been given this project with no brief or warning. Second, I find out that you’re assigning me a partner, which I explicitly said I would not do when I took this job. And now, the Minister wants to talk to me. He never gets involved. What the bloody hell is going on this morning, Gwen?”

“Listen, I don’t know much more than you, I didn’t find the object. Robbards found it, and I wasn’t in yet and you know how much he enjoys subverting my procedures. For some bloody reason, he chose to discuss it with the Minister and Kingsley absolutely demanded you were on the project. Now he wants to see you, so go, make this easier for all of us.”

Hermione made her way to the Minister’s office whilst dreaming of all the ways to make Robbards suffer for this. Hermione doesn’t work with partners and now her one rule of employment was thrown to the wind because of that insipid little man.

“Hermione, good to see you.”

“Minister Shacklebolt,” Hermione said shortly.

“I know you’re irritated, but let me explain. Something is happening within the Department of Mysteries that nobody understands. I’ve gotten weird and honestly concerning reports from almost all personnel down there. I have a hunch that this object relates to it all. I went and saw it and felt the magical signature radiating off of it before it was contained, it’s something I’ve never felt before. I need someone I can trust on this project and that’s you. It’s protocol that you work with a partner on identification cases, sorry but I will not budge on that. It’s a matter of safety. However, I need someone with experience in the Darker Arts on this case, as well.”

“What are you saying, Kingsley? Who are you pairing me with?”

“I hope one day you forgive me for this. The other one I’m assigning to this case is Bellatrix Black.”

“Are you kidding me?! Matter of safety, my arse. I have half a mind to hand in my resignation immediately. Making me work with a partner is already bad enough, but making me work with her...that’s just cruel and unusual punishment and I’ll never forgive you for this.”

“If you must resign, then I’ll wish you well. But this is the most interesting case you’ve gotten in a while. I can see it in your eyes that you won’t walk away from this. Go home for the day and regroup. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Kingsley was right. Hermione couldn’t give this up now until she found answers. So, she found her in her office early the next morning awaiting Bellatrix to show up. The first two days passed surprisingly dully. Bellatrix chose not to engage in any way with Hermione, except to explicitly discuss their preliminary findings. Which were none. The object didn’t respond to any of the standard diagnostic spells or even some of the more obscure spells Bellatrix knew. It seemed to absorb the magic, neutralizing it at first contact.

On the third day, Bellatrix started suggesting some decidedly non-protocol ideas.

“We need to take it out of the containment shield and try these tests again.”

“Absolutely not, Black, it could be volatile outside of it.”

“It doesn’t seem to be much of anything. For all we’ve discovered thus far, this could be some Muggle’s funeral shroud and we’re treating it as if it’s going to blow us to bits at first chance.”

Hermione stood her ground for a couple more hours, but finally relented to trying other means to research.

“If this goes south, I’m holding you personally responsible...as I do for most things, Lestrange.”

“The name is Black and I frankly could not care less for what some Mudblood chit holds me responsible for,” Bellatrix spoke with more venom than Hermione had heard in the two years they had worked in the same department.

Bellatrix cancelled the containment shield and began running the diagnostics again. All magic was neutralized just as before.

“See, it really is just some useless piece of fabric. Nothing to be scared of, Muddy,” Bellatrix cackled.

“It’s not just a piece of fabric. A normal piece of fabric would react in some way to the magic cast at it, at least we’d see some scorch marks. Bellatrix you need to take this seriously.”

“Oh, I am taking this very seriously, so serious that I’m gonna find which grave this came from,” Bellatrix countered as she reached out to touch the material.

“Bellatrix! Stop don’t touch it!”

Bellatrix grabbed it. “AAAH,” a guttural scream emerged from ruby red lips.

“BELLATRIX!” Hermione lunged at the woman grabbing her upper arm, too scared to think of the consequences.

The scream turned into a full blown belly laugh. “Didn’t know you cared so much, Muddy. See it’s nothing to worry about, just some seamstress’ scraps.”

“Merlin, Bellatrix that is not funny in any way. You could’ve been hurt, anything could have happened. Do you not have a shred of self-preservation,” Hermione spoke, never removing her hand, closer to the woman than she’d been since she was pinned beneath her getting carved.

“I have more self-preservation than you can imagine. I survived two wars and Azkaban, pet.”

The two women just looked at one another, drinking in the last couple minutes. Hermione felt a blush creeping up her chest and into her cheeks, embarassed by how she dove to save this woman who she should hate. Does hate.

Hermione was just about to concede that maybe it wasn’t as dangerous as everyone thought it to be, when an unexplainable chill crawled up her spine. The hairs on her arms were standing on end. She looked up at Bellatrix and saw an uneasiness in her eyes right as the floor gave way and the women were flung out into the ether.

The women found themselves suspended in an inky void; there was no source of light, but somehow they could see each other. There were no walls or floor, only nothingness. No noises were heard, nothing tactile in this space, there was nothing but each other. And pressure. The pressure was so intense that it hurt to draw in each breath; it felt like they were in the middle of apparating with no end in sight.

“Bellatrix what happened,” Hermione spoke, but her voice sounded faint and muffled as if spoken from a great distance.

“I don’t know. Where are we?”

“How should I know where we are. You were the one who had to act like a bloody toddler and got us thrown here.”

“Okay. Calm down. We’ll just apparate out of here, take my arm.”

Hermione took her arm and waited, “well get us out of here.”

“I can’t. My magic isn’t working. You try.”

Hermione tried to focus on apparating, but the only thing it did was increase the pressure around her chest. “No, no, no, no, no. We can’t get out. What are we going to do.”

“Die of dehydration, I imagine. Maybe asphyxiation if this pressure gets any worse,” Bellatrix said, completely disinterested, looking at her nails as she talked.

“Good god, Bellatrix, don’t you care at all?”

“Not particularly.”

The two sat in silence for a while, as much as one could sit while suspended in a state of no gravity. Finally, Hermione couldn’t take it any longer. “We need to move, to try and find a way out. We can’t just accept this fate.”

“Okay.” No fight was put up from Bellatrix, strange.

The two began to move through the thick and pervasive air, moving in a half walk, half swim. The darkness was everywhere, there was not a single thing around except for them. And the cold, the more they moved, the colder it got. They kept exploring the seemingly unending space for a long time. There was no way to determine how long they had been in this space, with no sun to track the hours and no magic to tell the time.

“Welcome to space!” a loud disembodied voice boomed all around them. Bellatrix and Hermione looked at one another with a glimmer of fear behind chocolate and caramel eyes, respectively.

“For too long, you wizards have tried to control and harness the horrible place you call the Department of Mysteries. I existed before the Ministry. There is no department, it is only me the Mystery. You are in Space. Not outer space as you ignorant humans have decided is the meaning of space within the bowels of your marble halls. No you are in the concept of Space. There is nothing physical here, but you. However, the immaterial can not be detached so easily, so you still have some tools at your disposal. You can be certain that Time is still passing, you still have Thought, and you could still Love if you were so inclined, but be aware that Death still reigns here. As in every other circumstance in life, you have two options: survive or die. As with all others who have wandered into my domain, I would argue you will probably die, nobody has survived yet. Eloise Mintumble got closer than most, but you know of her demise. She didn’t tumble through time, she tumbled into my domain; she found a way out, but not before Death sunk its teeth into her. Enjoy your time here, or don’t. You have one other choice, accept death now or stay and fight. Death now will be easy, painless, a greeting of a long awaited friend. Choosing to fight and failing will lead to a death worse than you can imagine. Chose to fight and win, I will grant you knowledge and power of the Mystery. Will you die nobly or will you die foolishly, Bellatrix Black and Hermione Granger?”

“We’re fighting. We will get out of here. You cannot scare us, I’ve looked death in the eyes and won before, but you won’t even deign to look us in the eyes,” Hermione exclaimed passionately, the fight that hadn’t been present since the War, coming out in full force.

“Hermione, we cannot possibly win,” Bellatrix was staring at her slack-jawed in shock.

“No, perhaps we cannot, but I will not die a coward,” Hermione looked at Bellatrix and for some reason felt like they had a greater chance than the others before them, “I’m fighting and I hope you’ll fight alongside of me.”

“Fine. Let it be known that Bellatrix Black is no coward in the face of fear. We shall fight.”

“Foolish girls, let the fun begin.”

[elejah-verse]

THE LADY AND THE BODYGUARD

Fanfiction

Part 1

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Reader

tag @dendrite-lover  

@rissyrapp20

a/n: short story

Warning: Mature Content 18+

_____

"I think that you are not taking this seriously"- Alaric said frustrated to Y/N rubbing his eyes.

"Look, I was the one shot at- so, I know - but- what? Shall I stop working and hide away?"- Y/N said back at her associate.

"No. I know you wouldn't. But you should have someone- someone professional, looking after you."- Alaric said firmly.

Y/N sat down at her desk. She was quiet for a second, shuffling papers in front of her. By the way she huffed a little, Alaric knew that she was nearly there agreeing to his proposal.

Y/N looked up at her mentor and colleague and said- "Ok. I agree. Find that someone. Can I go back to work now?"

"Yes. Good. We have already found someone. He will be here at 5:00 pm. sharp."

"Why did you ask me when you've already got everything done?"- Y/N looked a bit angered.

"Still kinda need your approval." - Alaric said.

"I never really had a choice, right?!"- Y/N said.

"Not really. Ok. I got to go. Talk to you later."

"Yeah"- Y/N started writing something on the computer, ignoring Alaric who was on his way out anyway.

As the man was out, Y/N slammed back in her chair. She put up a very brave front, but deep down, she was shook after the attempt on her life. But, she was also a very defiant, very independent type of a person. She had a job to do, and it was to put the mobsters behind bars. This was not an easy job, and now she will have to live with a shadow, following her everywhere. "No life. No privacy."- she thought. She now threw herself into work, to sway her from thoughts about what had happened and might happen in the future.

At five o'clock, her a walked reminding her about her appointment.

"Is it five already?"- Y/N said getting up from her chair.

"Yes."- Josh said with a dazzle in his eyes-"and he is tall, dark and handsome."

"Who?"

"Your new client."- Josh said.

"Right. Send him in."-Y/N straightened her blouse and a bit of her hair.

Like Josh had said, a tall, dark and handsome man walked in her office and introducing himself straight away without any innuendos- 

"I am Elijah Mikaelson."

Y/N nodded a little and extended her hand to the man.They shook hands.

"Ok. I guess we will talk details on my way home?!"- Y/N said as she now took her suit jacket and bags.

"As you wish"- Elijah said.

Y/N stopped only for a second to give Josh some instructions and then walked to the elevator followed by Elijah.

There, Alaric met up with them.

"Breakfast first thing?"- Alaric said to Y/N.

"All right. I will see you tomorrow"- she replied and Elijah and her slipped in the elevator.

"Quiet"- Y/N thought as she pressed the button.

"May I take these bags for you?"- Elijah now offered as she had a load of documents and files she was taking home to read.

Y/N handed him a bag, which the bodyguard took not saying a word.

In the car, they hardly spoke. It felt somewhat awkward, but she was used to all kind of strange people, so one more was not an issue to her. He had obviously got all the info from Alaric. Anyway, he was there like a living dummy to protect her and that was all. She needn't have any kind of relationship with him. He was a shadow. And that was all.

As the got to her house, still in the car, Y/N asked- "Ok. So, how will all this work?"

"I will explain all. At your house."

'All right."- Y/N said and taking her stuff they got out of the car.

Inside the house, Elijah explained how it would all work. As he finished, he said-

"I would like to check on your security."

"Ok. Feel free. Ahm- I don't know if you have had anything to eat, I will have something delivered."- and before he could say anything about it being checked out, she said-"It's a friend's place. A very old friend- it's Louisiana food."

"I will have whatever you have."- Elijah then said.

"Right."- Y/N said and got on the phone to her friend ordering the supper. Before the food came, Elena went up to her room to shower and change.

She walked down, and found that Elijah had already plated the food.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do that."- Y/N said.

"I don't mind. You were kind enough to invite me to eat. It's the least I could do."- Elijah said.

"One thing is good. You are not too rigid."

"Excuse me?"- Elijah was surprised at the remark.

"You know. Well, I expected you to be - I don't know how to put it- and I am usually good with words. You are pretty - human."

"Well, we are not like they present us in the movies, but still try to be pretty batman-like."- Elijah said.

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you."

"You didn't. I personally have not guarded a woman of your status and profile."

"But you have guarded other women?"

"Yes."- Elijah said.

"Right. I guess, you can't talk about it. Can I ask you why you stopped looking after her?"

"They didn't need my services anymore. It like any other job. As you know, when the case is done, it is done. You take another case."

"Yes. So, I read a bit about you. You are an ex FBI, and you have also spent five years in the marines. Also you lived in Mystic Falls, and you attended the pre-school there."

"Yes."- Elijah said shortly.

"Again. No private stuff, right? But, you know all about me!"- Y/N looked at him straight in the eyes.

"I am sorry, but - yes. Though I was told that you have contacts that go beyond the usual sources. And you are very thorough in your research."

"I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't so. And truth be told, it has also got me in this mess where I am in need of a bodyguard. I acknowledge my mistakes, although I really hate to do so. I am human, too."- Y/N said.

"It's good that we have established that."- Elijah said.

"It is."- Y/N said.

They talked now some more about her schedule the next day untill her phone rang and she took the call, walking out of the kitchen.

"Damon- yes- no- not tonight. Tomorrow maybe. Yes. I will call you. Ok. See you."

Elijah stayed on finishing his meal. As she got back to the kitchen, she said-

"This was my- well, I guess you know."

"Your boyfriend."- Elijah stated.

"Well, not really a boyfriend- we are - we are just seeing each other. And - yeah, well, it is his birthday this weekend and we are going out to - huh- this is mad - maybe I should cancel it."

"You needn't cancel it. You carry on with your life as per usual."- Elijah said.

"As per usual- right!"- Y/N huffed a little-"with you - eatching over me - and - what if I want to be with him- you will be in the next room?"

"Ms Y/S, I am your bodyguard. Not your father. You don't need my permission to be with- your boufriend. I will just need to take all measures that you are safe, and consequently he, too." - Elijah explained.

Y/N nodded a little and said-

"Ok. I - am going to do some more work. In my bedroom."

"All right."- Elijah said.

Elijah watched her walk up to her room. All he had read about her was exactly what he saw. She was direct, sometimes biting. But there was softness inside of her, certain vulnerability that she hid so welĺ. Very beautiful. And he would lie if this didn't hit him the moment he walked in her office. In all accounts this was not going to be an easy watch. So, he was told.

"She can be very stuborn, definitely defiant and known to do things her way."- his boss told him-"but you ar the best because you can keep a cool head and your emotions in tact."

Elijah went up and got in the room next door to Y/N. His watchful self listened to her a bit talk to her friends, then her colleagues. She was then quiet, until she put the music on. That lasted for a while. She then heard her go to the bathroom and eventually fall asleep.

🌻

In the morning, Y/N got up at her usual time. Had a shower, got dressed and walked down to the kitchen. She was astouned as she saw Elijah already there.

"Coffee?"- he offered and Y/N accepted. Elijah poured her some coffee and handed her the cup over.

Taking it, Y/N said-

"I owe you an apology. I shouldn-t have spoken to you the way I did. I am - well, was just so frustrated about - this. The whole bodyguard thing."

"Accepted. Eggs? Any preference?"- Elijah asked.

"No. Any. Though I am supposed to meet Alaric for breakfast."

"Not then?"

"Yes. It's a business breakfast. We will just have coffee."

           Gif by Vermariess              

Elijah impressed her with his breakfast.

"I haven't had such great omlette in a very long time. Thank you."

"You are welcome."- Elijah said.

"Is naking breakfast in your job description?"

"No. But as I said last night, I don't mind doing this. It is important that we establish some kind of working bond."

"Ah, right."

"It's about establishing trust. That you know can confide in me - whatever suspicious thing you see or feel."

"Right."- Y/N said and took a sip of her coffee. She then said-

"Aren't we crossing lines here? You are here to be my shield and that's it? Or?"

"This is not a straightforward case."

"No, it's not."- Y/N admitted.

She got up then abruptly and putting the stuff away in the dishwasher said that they would be leaving for the office in a little while.

Not long after they were on the way to the office, where Y/N stayed in all day. Elijah was there, not moving from her site. He was her shadow, but she gave it no thought. She was too busy.

Days went by and they got into some kind of routine. Y/N worked and didn't speak much to him. Most days she even ignored his presence.

And so, as another working day was winding down, she took a moment and stood for a while at the window and looked out-

"I love my freedom."- Y/N said. Elijah knew this was directed to him, but he didn't react.

Y/N now got her phone out and called Damon.

"Where are we meeting?"

"Rousseau's"- Damon said.

"Good."- Y/N said. She then turned to Elijah and told him about her plans of going to a party.

Elijah just noďded.

And as a faithful watcher, he followed her to the shops to buy a dress for the evening, get ready in a hairdresser's. And they arrived at the bar.

Y/N let herself go for the evening. She had fun with her friends. With her non-boyfriend. Him kissing her, and her kissing him back.

Elijah's eyes were on Y/N all the time. His emotions switched off. Or were they?

[amillionmillionvoices]

“Please listen to me-” + hicsqueak

Hecate isn’t quite sure what she expected to happen. It’s the first conference they’ve attended together, staying in the same hotel, in the same room under Pippa’s name. She’d booked them a suite, far more lavish than Hecate would ever indulge in, but she can’t deny it’s been nice, to have a place to retreat to when the crowds become too much and the socializing begins to grate at her nerves.

She’d known Pippa had her own agenda for the conference - modern workshops and seminars and luncheons with the upper echelons of society. She’d mentioned trying to shop around her most recent article on modern pedagogical exercises in chanting (an article Hecate had read, edited, and eventually grudgingly admitted was logically sound), and bemoaned a meeting with the CEO of some company or other, a man who’d donated a significant amount to Pippa’s school.

Hecate had her own schedule as well, sticking to the larger panels, mostly there to observe and listen and perhaps, if she has the time, attend a seminar on alternative teaching methods for ‘alternative students,’ though she would hate to be recognized at such an event.

(Still, her students come first, even when her students include the likes of Mildred Hubble.)  

She’d known they would spend a significant amount of time going their separate ways. But she hadn’t expected Pippa to be quite so distant.

She hasn’t invited Hecate to any of the lunches she’s attending, despite complaining about how handsy Arnold Moonshine always gets when he thinks she’s single. Hasn’t introduced her to anyone during the breaks, hasn’t sought her out for a quick word, hasn’t touched her at all - not even a fleeting brush of her hand against Hecate’s arm, the way she always does when they’re in public at either of their schools.

She tries to be grateful for it. Tries to reason to herself that drawing attention to themselves as a couple would be a disastrous idea, and it’s not as though it’s anyone else’s business besides.

But a louder, childish part of her, feels wounded. That Pippa evidently doesn’t want anyone to know they’re together. That she’s either ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with Hecate in such a public forum.

She understands why. Hecate knows she isn’t liked much out of very small, traditional circles. Knows even there she’s the odd one out, too awkward and too brusque to really connect with anyone. She’s been relatively lucky, that her life isn’t predicated on who she knows. She’d taken the potions mistress post at Cackle’s early on in her career, and Ada had taken a shine to her, for reasons Hecate still doesn’t quite understand.

Pippa, she knows, has had to build her reputation, her school, her life from the ground up. Yes, her name gave her some advantages, as her family has always been well-liked by most, but there’s no denying she’s worked hard, to cultivate the right relationships, to be seen with the right people, to learn what to say and how and when to say it.

Hecate doesn’t possess those skills. She’s too blunt, too sarcastic, too unwilling to cater to the people around her. And Pippa knows that. Knows that she’d be a hindrance rather than a help; that she’d inevitably say something and alienate someone and all Pippa’s hard work would be lost.

So Hecate keeps to herself. Follows Pippa’s cues and during the day pretends they’re nothing more than colleagues, barely friends.

At night, Pippa returns to the room far later than Hecate, exhausted, and her mask slips away. Her shoulders hunch and she smiles weakly, but genuinely, for the first time all day.

Hecate quirks her lips when Pippa collapses, still in her clothes, and curls up on the sofa, her head in Hecate’s lap.

“I hate conferences,” she confesses, nuzzling her head into Hecate’s hand when she begins carding her fingers through Pippa’s hair.

“I can see why,” Hecate murmurs, setting aside her book.

Pippa sighs heavily. “At least the funding for the east wing is in order.”

Hecate raises her eyebrows. “Already?”

Pippa snorts. “Dryfus is easy,” she says. “Pay him enough compliments and buy him lunch and he’s yours.”

“Dryfus,” Hecate repeats, trying to place the name. “Dryfus Ellington?” Pippa hums in response. “He’s an idiot.”

“A rich idiot,” Pippa mumbles.

Hecate purses her lips but says nothing. There’s nothing to say - she understands why Pippa does it. Why she needs the money - for expansion, for supplies, for scholarships. It’s the latter she’s the most invested in, Hecate knows, trying desperately to make her school affordable to everyone.

But it’s private, isn’t funded by the council the way Cackle’s is, and a steady source of funding is necessary to keep Pentangle’s up and running.

It doesn’t mean Hecate always agrees with her methods, but she can’t imagine what she would do differently.

Pippa sighs in the silence, turning on her back to look up at Hecate. “I know you don’t approve.”

Hecate falters, then continues brushing her fingers through Pippa’s hair. “It isn’t that.”

“No?”

“I disapprove of the fact that it’s necessary,” she says. “But I think no less of you for it.”

Pippa’s lips quirk in a smile, and she catches Hecate’s hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy,” she says. “Tomorrow we’ll stay together.”

Hecate swallows. “That’s not necessary. I realize you have more important things to do.”

Pippa frowns. “I’ve made all the arrangements I needed,” she says. “It took me a day longer than I’d have liked, but—tomorrow I’m all yours.”

She smiles, and Hecate’s stomach drops.

It isn’t worth it. Pippa works too hard to have every relationship she’s developed unravel in Hecate’s presence.

“I… appreciate the offer,” Hecate says carefully, “But I understand.”

“Understand what?”

Hecate works her jaw, trying to parse her words, to sound careless and unaffected. “I’m not exactly the most popular person in these circles.”

Pippa sits up, faces her with her legs crossed and a hand on her arm. “So?”

“So… I understand the need for distance. You’ve worked hard to cultivate these relationships. My presence would only serve as a hindrance.”

“That’s not true.”

Hecate arches an eyebrow. “Is that not why you’ve been pretending we’re merely colleagues?”

Pippa’s frown deepens and she pulls away, settling her hands in her lap. “I haven’t been—” She stops, and stares down at her hands. “I’m sorry.”

She’d hoped, vainly, that perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps Pippa had another reason for avoiding her—but she can tell by the guilty expression on her face, the way she wrings her hands together that she wasn’t wrong at all.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Hecate says. “I’m aware of my reputation. I’m aware of the damage it would do to yours.”

Pippa falters, opens her mouth several times and finally says, “It’s just a game. It’s a stupid game I have to play to keep my school running, and these people care so much about names and status and I need them to—”

Hecate ducks forward and kisses her briefly, softly, stemming her words. “I know.”

“It has nothing to do with you,” she says. “It has nothing to do with how I feel about you.”

Hecate doesn’t quite believe her, but nods regardless. “I know.”

Pippa blinks rapidly. “You’re not angry?”

Hecate offers a small smile. “I’m fine, Pippa. Truly.”

–

She isn’t fine.

It hurts, watching Pippa across the hall, knowing for certain now that she’s being, to borrow Pippa’s phrase, shunted. To know it’s on purpose, to serve a goal.

She understands, doesn’t fault Pippa for it, but for the first time, she wishes she were more palatable to people. Wishes she could turn herself off for a while, could be normal, could be like everyone else.

Settling into her seat, she hates that she glances around for Pippa. Hates that she finds her just two rows back, sitting next to an older woman that Hecate can tell just by looking at is wealthy. Pippa catches Hecate’s eye and smiles briefly, and Hecate nods back, then turns in her seat to face the podium.

The first presentation is duller than the ones her students give, and Hecate lets herself tune out the drone of his voice and uninteresting (and unoriginal) findings.

People in the audience have begun to whisper, and there are two women in front of her who catch her attention, heads bent together as they look over the schedule.

“Pentangle’s leading a workshop?”

“On modern magic,” the other says derisively. “There’ll no doubt be singing involved.”

“She had to cancel the last one she signed up for. Too busy screwing her way to the top, I’d imagine.”

Hecate freezes, blood cold as she stares at the back of their heads, jaw clenched.

“That’s not very nice,” the other whispers back, and the first woman huffs.

“Well it’s true. How else do you think she gets all that funding for her ridiculous school?”

“Or perhaps,”  Hecate says quietly, pleased when both women jump and turn, startled, “manipulating the petty and disingenuous out of their money is easier than you would like to believe.” She fixes her gaze on the second woman. “You’ve donated a significant amount in the last year to Catshead Academy, have you not?”

The woman - Miss Belltower, she knows - stammers, but the other she doesn’t recognize recovers after a moment and lifts her chin, her voice still quiet in the large ballroom, “That’s interesting coming from you, Miss Hardbroom, as I was under the impression Miss Pentangle endeavored to take your headmistress’ place in much the same way.”

Hecate’s anger flares, her voice a bit too loud, “Ada Cackle would never—”

“I’m not talking about Miss Cackle. You are sleeping with Miss Pentangle, are you not?”

Silence or aversion is as good as a yes, and Pippa doesn’t want people to know. Doesn’t want that association, so she lifts her chin and says clearly,

“No, I am not. Though I fail to see how that’s any of your concern.”

Miss Belltower turns away, and the other woman contemplates for a moment before saying, “I suppose it isn’t. But perhaps you should pay closer attention to rumors, Miss Hardbroom. It would be a pity to lose your upstanding reputation to one…mistake.”

She arches an eyebrow before turning back in her seat and fixing her gaze pointedly on the presenter.

Hecate has no idea what she means or even how to go about finding out. She’s always done her best to keep herself above gossip, beyond who’s retiring and who’s publishing and what posts are open at various academies.

But Pippa knows. Pippa knows everything, makes it her business to know, to keep her head above water, and Hecate clenches her teeth in irritation.

She can tolerate being ignored for the sake of Pippa’s school, for Pippa’s students. She can handle the twisted feeling in her gut that perhaps Pippa is embarrassed to be seen with her. But she cannot abide secrets, or being kept in the dark, and it’s soon after the panel is over that Hecate finds Pippa in the hallway, chatting amiably with another witch.

“Pardon me, Miss Pentangle,” she interrupts, caring little for the annoyed glance the other woman gives her. “Might I borrow you for a moment? Miss Cackle has a few questions on modern pedagogy she asked me to have answered while I’m here.”

Pippa frowns, a bit confused, but smiles and makes her excuses and turns to Hecate, voice lowered in the crowd. “Is everything alright?”

Hecate glances around to ensure no one is paying them any attention, then transfers them both to an empty conference room and shuts the door with a wave of her hand.

“Hecate?”

“I’ve had an interesting conversation with a friend of Miss Belltower’s,” she says. “Evidently our relationship isn’t as private as you’d like.”

There’s a moment, a brief flash of panic in Pippa’s eyes that Hecate’s certain no one else would catch before she frowns.

“I haven’t heard anything,” she says, but it’s a lie, bold and brazen, and Hecate arches an eyebrow.

“So you’re unaware that some people believe you’re only sleeping with me in an attempt to assume Miss Cackle’s position as headmistress?”

It’s an indelicate way of putting it, Hecate knows, especially if Pippa truly hasn’t heard the rumor; but she has, Hecate can see it on her face, the way her mask breaks for a split second, the horrified look in her eyes, but without surprise.

“I—” she starts, and Hecate snaps.

“Don’t lie to me, Pippa.”

She blinks, startled, and shakes her head. “I’m not trying to lie to you. I just—it’s idle gossip, it means nothing.”

“It means something, or you would have told me about it.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she insists. “Yes, I’m aware of it, but I didn’t think telling you would do any good. I know you don’t like gossip to begin with and it’s nothing more than that.” She pauses, frown deepening. “Unless—you don’t believe it, do you?”

Hecate huffs. “Of course not.”

“I’m serious, Hecate. You don’t believe I’m with you because I want something, right?”

Hecate sighs, her anger dwindling in the face of Pippa’s palpable fear. “No, I don’t believe it,” she says firmly. She isn’t always quite sure why Pippa is with her, but she knows it isn’t because of that. “But if I’m going to do my part and deny any rumor that we’re together, I need to know what those rumors are.”

“You told someone we weren’t together?”

Hecate frowns at the surprise in her voice. “Miss Belltower and her…friend.”  Pippa looks shaken, and Hecate doesn’t understand. “I thought it’s what you wanted.”

Pippa blinks and nods. “No, of course, you’re right. It’s better this way.”

“Pippa—”

“That was quick thinking, though I’m sorry to have put you in that position.” She smiles too broadly. “Once I’ve locked down sponsors for next year’s scholarships, I’m sure we can tell people. If you want.”

Hecate tries her best not to flinch. Tries to pretend that the words, their implication, make no difference to her. That being hidden in the shadows for the sake of appearance doesn’t tug at something inside her, doesn’t tongue at her insecurities.

But Pippa must see it, because she’s across the room in seconds, a hand on Hecate’s arm. “Hiccup—”

“It’s fine, Pippa,” she interrupts, unable to stand the concern in Pippa’s eyes. “It’s only another two days, regardless.” She pauses. “In fact, I may head back early. There are some things at Cackle’s I need to—”

“Hecate, no, stay,” she begs. “We’ll—we’ll do something tomorrow, I promise. We’ll get away from the hotel and—”

“Hide,” Hecate finishes, her voice flat. “That’s fine.”

Pippa looks away. “It’s not hiding.”

Hecate purses her lips. “I’m willing to go along with the charade in public, but let’s not pretend it’s anything other than what it is. I embarrass you.”

Pippa’s head jerks up, her eyes wide, and her hand tightens on Hecate’s arm. “Hecate, no. That’s not—that’s not even close to—why would you say that?”

Hecate pulls away, irritation rising. “Because I’m not naive. You’ve made it quite clear that I don’t belong in this part of your world.”

Pippa frowns. “And you’re alright with that?”

“Yes,” she lies. “If it’s what’s best for you—”

“It’s not.”

Hecate pauses. “I don’t understand.”

Pippa shakes her head, clearly exasperated, though Hecate has no idea why, until she says, so clearly, “I’ve loved you since I was eleven years old, and for thirty years I had to live without you. Now that we’re together, I want to—to—leap on my broom and shout it to the rooftops. But I can’t. Because—”

“It’s a game,” Hecate repeats. “Of course.”

“But you don’t believe that,” Pippa says. “Not entirely. Or you wouldn’t be so upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

Pippa glares at her. “Don’t lie to me, Hecate, not about this. Don’t say you’re fine when you aren’t.”

“Then don’t lie to me, Pippa,” she snaps. “Do not attempt to dress this up as something pretty, for your sake or mine. I don’t need to be coddled.”

“I’m not trying to coddle you, Hecate, I’m trying to—” She cuts herself off abruptly and turns away.

“Trying to what?” Hecate goads, and Pippa sighs.

“I’m just…trying to do the right thing. By you. By us. By my school.”

Hecate watches her for a moment, sees the struggle on her face, and almost hates that she says, softly, “You may not be able to have it both ways.”

Pippa’s eyes water and Hecate’s stomach knots, her hands itching to reach out. Instead, she curls her hands into fists and lifts her chin.

“That isn’t fair,” Pippa says, and Hecate shakes her head.

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Pippa barks out a wet laugh. “Of course it’s not.”

Hecate frowns, feels thrown off course. “I don’t understand,” she says, and Pippa seems to crack, seems like a torrent of things she’s held back slip out, and she’s powerless to stop them.

“I hate this,” she admits. “I hate pretending we’re not together. I hate that I can’t touch you or hold your hand or—or—even speak to you naturally. I hate the excuses and the—stares and—and I don’t care if people know. I want people to know. I want them to know I’m yours.”

Hecate blinks, surprise and confusion plain on her face, she’s certain. “But… your school…”

Pippa scoffs and her voice hardens. “Anyone that wouldn’t give us money because of you is money I don’t want,” she says. “And anyone who wouldn’t support us because of you is support I don’t need.”

Hecate flounders. “Then why—”

“Because of you.  Because you’re—you’re revered, Hecate. Your work is known in every witching circle there is and even the people that don’t like you admire you. You’ve built a reputation for yourself, a good one - as a traditionalist, yes, but as someone who cares deeply about The Craft and educating young witches and I didn’t want—”

She breaks off, and Hecate swallows tightly, barely manages to ask, “Didn’t want what?”

“I didn’t want to damage that. With my… modern practices and—singing and… pink.” She bites her lip and looks up at Hecate with wet eyes. “I didn’t want people to think I was manipulating you. I know how much you hate being pitied, and I just—I didn’t want them to think of you as one of my supposed ‘conquests.’ You’re better than that. You deserve better than that. And I can’t be the one to ruin—”

Hecate kisses her, closes the space between them and kisses her fiercely, hands on her cheeks. Pippa startles, but instantly relaxes, brings her hands up to curl around Hecate’s biceps as she leans in, opens her mouth under Hecate’s.

When they part, they’re both breathing heavily, and Hecate presses her forehead to Pippa’s, eyes closed, heart hammering.

“Pippa,” she murmurs. “When is the last time you’ve known me to care what fools think of me?”

Pippa curls her fingers around the back of Hecate’s neck. “But they hurt you,” she whispers. “You pretend they don’t, but I remember—”

When they were young, when harsh words and criticisms would follow Hecate down the hallways, when rumors would pop up, about her family, about her, about her and Pippa.

Hecate shakes her head. “I cared because I was afraid,” she says. “I thought if you believed the rumors, if you knew how I felt, you would leave me. But I couldn’t care less about Miss Belltower or her friends or anyone else.

“But you—”

“Please listen to me,” Hecate cuts her off, pulling back far enough to see Pippa’s face. “There isn’t anything anyone could say that would matter more to me than you. If they think I am… naive or gullible, let them think so. There are far worse things,” she says pointedly, but Pippa shakes her head.

“I don’t care. Those rumors—I’m used to them.”

“You shouldn’t be.”

Pippa smiles softly. “No. But they don’t bother me anymore.”

Hecate nods slowly, her fingers brushing the ends of Pippa’s hair. “And… I don’t embarrass you?”

Pippa kisses her firmly. “Never.”

“Then perhaps we’ve been the foolish ones,” Hecate says, ducking her head. Pippa kisses the frown on her face, her nose, her lips.

“We could be not foolish, from now on?”

There’s nervousness there, and hope, and Hecate’s lips quirk in a small smile.

“I would like that.”

Pippa beams, wrapping her arms tightly around Hecate’s neck. “I love you, Hiccup.”

Hecate buries her face in Pippa’s neck. “I love you, too, Pipsqueak.”

Pippa sniffles, pulls back to wipe a stray tear off her cheek and finally lets go, stepping back. “I suppose we should get back to the ballroom for the next panel?”

Hecate nods, and Pippa holds out her hand. “Together?”

Smiling softly, Hecate takes her hand, holds on, doesn’t let go.

“Pippa?” she asks, just before they transfer.

“Yes?”

“Don’t call me Hiccup in public.”

They fade away, Pippa’s laughter ringing through the empty room.

[jemmafitzsimmons]

make it work, make it sweet - a fitzsimmons fic

Written for the anon that requested fs + I did the dishes. 

Summary: When Jemma hopes to surprise Fitz for his birthday with something special, things don’t quite go according to plan. (Sci-Ops Era/established relationship)

Read below or on AO3!

~

With her grocery sacks cutting into her arm as she trekked up to the fourth floor of her apartment complex, Jemma cursed herself for forgetting the reusable bags she’d left hanging on the pantry door. Luckily, that was the only mishap she’d encountered since embarking on her day’s plans. With Fitz out for the day, it was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of their small but still fully functional kitchen in their shared flat to make him something special. They usually didn’t go crazy on birthdays, but he’d taken her to the local arboretum the afternoon of her birthday last year, and with him being 23 days older than her, it gave her almost an entire year to prepare something spectacular for his day of celebration. But even with plenty of time to prepare, it didn’t make the task of surprising him any easier.  

Unfortunately, she wasn’t necessarily the best at thinking up surprises for her boyfriend ever since they’d established that Fitz was much more talented in the realm of romantic gestures. Preparing something special for someone who would be pleased with just about anything was a difficult task to narrow down, so it took a great deal of brainstorming before she settled on the perfect gift. She knew buying him something extravagant wasn’t an option since they were trying to keep their possessions as minimal as possible in their cramped flat. And she knew a surprise party would likely spook him more than anything else, him often preferring to spend time alone with her rather than with a large crowd of people.

It was only when they were invited to a colleague’s birthday party in the summer did she suddenly come up with a plan as they came across the subject of birthday cakes.

“It’s good,” Jemma uttered through a mouthful of vanilla cake as they hid in a corner of the loud and overly crowded patio. “Could be better.”

At her side, Fitz shook his head. “Jemma, are you really judging the cake? It’s sweet, it’s got loads of icing, and it’s free.” Poking his fork into her slice, he stole a bite before she brought her plate closer to her chest protectively.

“Yes, but it’s so boring,” she explained, not impressed by the simple vanilla sheet cake that easily fed a crowd but wasn’t up to her standards for desserts. “You only get one birthday a year, so you might as well make a cake that’s just as special.”

Fitz shrugged. “Well, it’s just a cake. I can’t even remember the last time I had a birthday cake like this.”

Putting down her fork, Jemma tilted her head. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Oh. Well, it’s not like I’ve never had a birthday cake,” he told her. “I had ones when I was really little, but once it was just the two of us, my mum would always take me to this bakery down the street to get a slice there.”

“Ah,” Jemma replied plainly.

“I didn’t mind,” he said, shrugging. “I think she always hated having so much leftover, and I didn’t want her to go to the trouble of making one, anyway.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” she said with a hint of sadness in her voice.

Upon learning this fact, Jemma instantly felt horrible for not thinking to make him a cake in the past. With their last few years spent at the Academy and now at Sci-Ops together, their schedules were so incredibly busy that they usually settled for store-bought cupcakes on birthdays, the single candles giving them just enough light to make wishes for the next year they were to spend at each other’s side. Now, all Jemma could think about was making up for lost time and what would hopefully be a delighted look on Fitz's face when she ultimately presented him with his freshly baked cake.

Once she learned that Fitz’s mum would be in town for his birthday, Jemma suggested that he should spend the day with her, and then the three of them could all meet up for dinner afterwards, giving Jemma time to prepare his gift in secret. Based on her skill level, she calculated precisely how much time she needed to bake and decorate the cake in time for it to be ready for dessert that night. A small white lie about having lunch with Daisy allowed her to leave their flat in the morning without question (but not before giving Fitz his first birthday present of the day, which—based on her observation—he seemed to enjoy tremendously).

Of course, instead of meeting Daisy, Jemma hopped over to the supermarket to collect fresh ingredients, wanting nothing short of the best for Fitz’s soon to be glorious birthday cake. With all the proper pieces purchased and arriving home just in time, she felt her plans were going off without a hitch. That was until she swung open the flat door and stumbled inside, letting out a loud gasp at the sight in front of her.

The countertops were nearly spotless, the dishes were laying in their rack to dry, but the most alarming sight before her with her boyfriend with a bottle of all-purpose cleaner in hand and a thin layer of sweat coating the back of his neck.

“Oh!” Jemma exclaimed, forgetting to ease the door shut, so the loud slam sent Fitz turning around at the noise.

“Hey, Jemma. You’re back early,” he said happily.  

“Fitz. You’re… you’re here,” she said, unable to move from her shock.

“Yeah, did you go shopping?” he asked. He gestured toward the fridge. “We’re low on milk, I think.”

Slowly, Jemma tried to lower the grocery sacks without losing her grip to hide them behind her back. “Yeah. Wha-what are you doing here?”

Fitz chuckled lightly, resuming his work of scrubbing down a corner of their kitchen island. “I’d like to ask you the same question,” he said, raising his eyebrows, “since you said you were meeting Daisy for lunch.”  

“I had…errands to run first,” she answered before clearing her throat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Aren’t you happy that I’m cleaning?”

“Not today, I’m not. Aren’t you supposed to be spending the day with your mum?”

“Change of plans,” Fitz explained as he continued to scrub at the countertop. “Got a call saying her flight’s running late, so she’s coming in tomorrow instead. Which is actually better, because now I have more time to make sure the flat is in order, so she doesn’t think we live like slobs.” He looked up, raising his hands. “Not that we do, of course, but you know. Don’t want her to worry. Anyway, I did the dishes, laundry’s almost done.”

“Oh,” Jemma replied softly. “Right, okay.”

“I didn’t text you because I didn’t want you to cancel on Daisy for my sake.”

Nodding, Jemma inched one of the grocery sacks higher on her arm, still struggling with its weight.

“Here,” Fitz said, putting down the cleaner and rushing forward. “I got it.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” she insisted, quickly pulling the bags away as he reached forward to keep the ingredients a secret. But her swift movement resulted in yet another mishap of the day as the thin plastic of one of the grocery sacks tore open from the bottom.

Before Jemma had time to react, the contents went tumbling to the floor, the sacks of flour and sugar landing with a heavy thump but luckily staying mostly intact. Tragically, the jug of milk and the jar of rainbow sprinkles were not as lucky.

“Oh, no, no, no!” Jemma cried as she trailed after the rolling jar, the sugary morsels now decorating a good portion of their kitchen floor. As she struggled, muttering a few expletives to herself, Fitz got to his knees to collect the other fallen ingredients while he took paper towels to the growing puddle under the milk jug.

“Well, so much for the milk. And wow, that… is a lot of sprinkles,” he said through a laugh.

“Ugh, this is a disaster,” Jemma whispered as she tried to collect the sprinkles into a pile, hanging her head so Fitz couldn’t see her expression.

It was happening again, she thought to herself painfully. No matter how meticulous she was in her preparations, her attempts at being romantic were somehow always falling apart, and without warning, a lump started to form in her throat as her eyes filled with tears.

“It’s okay, I’ll clean it up,” Fitz told her before getting to his feet and searching for their broom and dustpan.

“Thank you,” Jemma replied, giving up her attempts to collect the sprinkles to lean against the bottom cupboards of the kitchen in defeat. “I just… I had plans all set and stone, and they only work if you’re out of the flat all day.”

“What sort of plans?” Fitz asked from the other side of the kitchen.

Through a deep sigh, Jemma shook her head. “Nothing, it’s…” She paused, sniffling and wiping under her eyelid. “It’s nothing. I’ll make it work. Somehow.”

“Well, do you want me to leave?” Fitz asked while he started to sweep the floor. But once he got around the island and found Jemma leaning against the cupboard, he froze. “Hey, what’s the matter?”

Looking up, she gave him a weak smile. “How is it so easy for you?”

“What?”

“To be romantic,” she said quietly.

At her words, Fitz tilted his head, giving her a sympathetic look.

“You always… take me by surprise and everything is always so unbelievably perfect,” Jemma explained. “I, on the other hand, am always running into trouble. First it was the holiday that didn’t work out because of Weaver’s last minute project, then there was that astrophysics lecture that I was going to surprise you with, but then you had already bought us tickets. And now I can’t even get your bloody birthday present right.” Shaking her head, she pressed a hand to her forehead.

As she expected, Fitz balanced the broom against the counter before he made his way to her side on the floor. Placing his hand on her shoulder, he urged her to turn towards him. “Come here,” he whispered.

WIthout a word, Jemma sunk her head to his shoulder and curled into him, swinging her legs over his to settle in his lap. “I’m sorry,” she said after a few moments, wiping the few tears away and letting herself laugh for the first time as she took in the mess that was their kitchen and her current state. “I’m just being silly.”

“No, you’re not,” Fitz assured her, moving a stray hair that had fallen in front of her face. “I’m sorry I ruined your plans.”

“It’s not your fault. It was an accident.” Letting out a small sigh, she shrugged. “But still. I don’t understand how it always goes so well for you every time. I try to plan something nice for you and it always seems to burst into flames.”

It was his turn to laugh, which Jemma found annoyingly adorable considering her state of mind. After, when he looked at her with a more serious expression, she waited for him to explain.

“Did you know…” he finally said, “that for every seemingly perfect date or gift, there are probably about three failures in-between?”

Jemma scrunched up her face. “What do you mean?”

“Do you really think that the time we stayed in during that crazy thunderstorm with Chinese take away and that Austen movie marathon—that was plan A?” He let out another chuckle before he continued. “That was supposed to be a picnic in the afternoon and then stargazing at night. Turns out I vastly misjudged the weather patterns that day, along with my skill in making sandwiches that even come close to yours.”

“Aw, but that was a good night,” Jemma assured him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“It really was,” he agreed. “And then those flowers I got you after you passed your final Academy exams? Those were purchased because the dwarf prototype I was originally working on may or may not have exploded in the lab.”

With widened eyes, Jemma looked back up at him. “Oh, God. You never told me that,” she said, astonished.  

“Well, the miscalculation helped us finish the project in the end, so I didn’t feel the need to inform you about that bit,” Fitz admitted through a half shrug.

Jemma let out a faint laugh.

“But see?” he said, poking her playfully in the side. “What you think is perfect and effortless is actually a great deal of throwing things together on my end, and that’s okay. ”

She nodded, already feeling immensely better about her soiled surprise.

“Whatever you end up doing,” Fitz went on, “even if it’s not exactly what you originally planned, I’ll always love it because it’s from you.”

“I know,” Jemma said, her voice low. “I just wanted things to go right this time.”

“Alright, spill,” Fitz said in a lighter tone. “What were you planning?”

Pulling back to look at him fully in the eye, Jemma sighed. “I was going to bake you a cake,” she finally confessed, her voice as small as the smile growing on her face.

It took a moment for Fitz to respond, but then his eyes turned bright. “Really?”

“Yes, I know it doesn’t sound that exciting, but wasn’t just any cake,” she gushed. “It was going to be this beautiful, magnificent, delicious cake. And it was going to have six layers—”

“Six?!”

“Yes, and sprinkles, and a chocolate drizzle, and I was going to surprise you and your mum when we all got back from dinner.”

“Jemma, that…” Fitz shook his head in disbelief. “That sounds amazing.”

“I just wanted to do something special for a change.” Taking hold of his hand, she looked down at her lap.

“You still can,” he told her reassuringly, rubbing her back. “But now you can have my help.”

“But it was supposed to be a surprise,” Jemma replied, pouting.

“Okay, then, how about I help you with the baking part, and then I’ll leave the decorating up to you?” he offered.

Jemma thought for a moment before she pursed her lips, nodding. “That does sound like a good idea. An assistant would make things a lot easier.”

“Assistant?”

Rolling her eyes dramatically, Jemma shook her head. “Alright, fine. Partner. But be honest, Fitz, how much baking have you done in your life?”

“I’ve done enough,” he answered, looking a bit insulted by her question, but smiling nonetheless. “And it’s just science, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and good judgement.”

“And fun, I’m hoping. Plus, with an expert at my side, I’m sure I’ll learn just fine.”

“Yes, you will,” she told him happily. After giving him a small peck on his cheek, not a trace of disappointment left within her, Jemma got to her feet and pulled Fitz up. “Right, then. Let’s get to work.”

~

It took nearly five hours, but eventually, the two of them sunk heavily onto the sofa before cutting into what Jemma thought was one of her most brilliant creations to date. After Fitz went out to replace the spilled milk and rainbow sprinkles, they set about a routine of weighing, mixing, pouring, and then finally watching the cakes rise in the oven as they transformed before their eyes. As they’d agreed, Fitz stayed in the living room while Jemma got about icing and decorating the cake. And when, at last, it was finished and she presented it to him proudly—all six layers of soft and springy sponge towered up high with rich buttercream—Fitz seemed lost for words.

At the moment, they’d already polished off two slices and were now sharing a third, Jemma’s legs draped over Fitz’s lap as they balanced the plate between them.

“It really is spectacular,” Fitz told her, patting her knee.  

“Thank you,” Jemma replied lovingly.  

“And you technically made me three cakes,” he pointed out.  

“Well, I didn’t know which one you would like best, so I thought… Neapolitan. Felt like the safest route.”

“It’s bloody delicious is what it is,” he mumbled through a mouthful of the strawberry layer.

Once the third slice was demolished and they were left with only crumbs, Fitz took Jemma’s hand and pulled her closer to his side.

“You did well. Very romantic, indeed,” he told her, his lips pressed to her forehead.  

“Good,” she said into his neck. “And maybe... this can be the first of many special cakes in the future?” She looked up with a raised brow in a hopeful expression.

She saw something shift behind his eyes then, as if a new thought was entering his brain at that precise moment. She liked to think it was the same one running through her mind as well, a future filled with many more special occasions made brighter with the addition of delicious desserts, and maybe even one where the cake was the centerpiece of a grand celebration, an occasion much more memorable than any birthday.

Eventually, he nodded, his smile growing wider as he leaned in. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” he whispered before capturing her in a soft kiss, the taste of his lips just as sweet as his words, the sugary treat they’d just devoured, and what turned out to be quite the romantic night after all.

~

🎂

See the cake Jemma baked here (from Cupcake Jemma! 💫)

[superjesseyb]

Weight Loss: Why Self-Sabotage Is Hold You Back

Do you have sabotage syndrome? Have you ever reached a point in your weight loss journey when things are going well, you've lost a significant amount of weight and are so close to reaching your ideal weight goal, then "something" happens ... you go back to your old eating habits. You start to say things like, "I'm fine during the day, but at night, I start to graze and pick, and then I think I'll start again tomorrow." Or: "I had a bad day of eating, you might as well stop. "For some, it can be a rapid return to old eating behaviours, for others, it is a slow and gradual recurrence. Then you feel so disappointed and frustrated with your inability to lose weight again, so you decide to give up. What about these scenarios… as your diet is going very well and you are losing weight, instead of giving yourself flowers on your birthday (or any other holiday), your significant other gives you a box of your favourite chocolates! Or, you have friends, colleagues, family members, etc. who tempt you with food choices they know you are avoiding while saying things like, "One bite will not hurt you" or "You've come so far, you deserve to have one!" , " I did that, you have to try it." or " It's my birthday, you must have cake! " Does this sound familiar to you? If so, you are not alone. Thousands of dieters suffer from similar patterns. In my experience, I often have patients who ask, "Why does this keep happening? Why can't I just lose weight and keep it off? "Or:" It's like I have two minds ... one who wants to lose weight and the other who won't let me. " I also often hear, “Why can't my spouse (other important people, friend, family member, etc.) support my weight loss efforts?” “It almost seems like people are trying to make me eat and stay fat! " So why are you your worst enemy? Why are you or others hampering your weight loss goals? 6 common signs you're self-sabotaging and how to stop it Although everyone has their own limiting beliefs, some are more common than others. This is very true when these beliefs relate to your weight loss plan.   Quit the habit of making excuses One of the simplest methods to identify limiting perception is to investigate your apologies; it is because limiting beliefs are constantly disguised as an apology. At first glance, one thing seems to be an obstacle. In reality, it's just an excuse you can sabotage yourself with. So how do you determine if it is a respectable obstacle? Focus on information about the situation, not on emotions. When you cancel an excuse with information and logic, it is easier to see the B.S. If you understand that this is just an excuse, you are still struggling to get the precedent. Start using your optimistic statements. View the success stories about weight loss. Find inspiration from people who have already overcome obstacles and apologies.   Make positive confession daily Once you've recognized your negative ideas, it's time to move them. Replace negativity with optimistic goals and their beliefs. Practice with optimistic confirmations. Watch out for "I can't do it" and "I don't do it" statements and apologies. The next time you catch yourself in a loop of negativity and self-sabotage, use these optimistic statements. Keep repeating them until you can stop self-sabotage. Then repeat the method again the next time these negative ideas appear. I don't like to understand I can never stop consuming carbohydrates I'm too overwhelmed to get in shape I am too busy to prepare healthy meals I'm not the kind of woman who goes to the fitness centre I have no money for this type of meal I can't afford it [the gym, the Keto supermarket, the learning materials I'm fat I'm too lazy to cook a meal   Stop Procrastinating and take actions Procrastination is another way to believe the major limitations that occur, especially in the case of a weight loss plan. It is always easy to find a reason why the timing is just not right, but all you do is keep yourself together again. There will never be a time when everything will be completely aligned. When you apologize for delay, you allow only that restrictive observation to prevail.   Obsessing over diet perfection Perfectionism is great in the Keto area. Changing your food sample is a huge step and it makes sense that you want to do it completely. You need your weight loss plan to give you the results you want, so you feel that everything should be right. The need to get everything right will actually be robust; this need can also be a limiting perception that prevents you from transferring in advance. The nutritional data is a reconstruction of averages and estimates. If you insist on every gram of carbohydrates, fats, proteins, electrolytes, etc. in line with an objective controlled by a calculator, it must be understood that it is nevertheless an average or an estimate. Macros will be an unimaginable tool for a weight loss plan. However, stress about these figures can be the engine of your opposing ideas, beliefs or actions. Don't let statistics and perfectionism stop you. You may end up with the unfair idea in your weight loss plan. You assume that if you exceed your carbohydrate restriction, you have cheated; you may feel responsible for it. Before you proceed with your weight loss plan, know this: you are not unfair. You study in practical expertise. It is not a mistake, it is an expertise. Too many people try to control the keto. They tell everyone what they are doing wrong; the chances are good, but they do not do everything well at the same time. They may need a strict set of black and white guidelines that they assume everyone must adhere to. None of these is suitable, so they are absolutely not useful. If you realize that you are part of the keto policy, just keep it to yourself. Everyone's weight reduction plan is completely different and distinctive for their specific person. Keto diets can observe identical common parameters, but they will be adjusted to meet the needs and wishes of each person. Don't try to drive perfectionism on yourself, and don't ride it on different people both.   Over controlling everything You have no control over what people do or say. Just as you can orientate yourself in another person's weight loss plan, you can let different people have an effect on the best way to plan your weight. There will always be another person doing something completely different. Your partner does not pay attention to the keto and you are also forced to see how they eat carbohydrates. Someone at your home has eaten the meals that you have chosen on purpose. Your keto buddy has given up and now you no longer have your assistance system. These are just excuses. These are not respectable obstacles. By allowing such excuses to dictate your weight loss plan, your limiting beliefs can regulate your nutritional success. Ultimately, your only way to change the way you consume is. You do not want authorization and you do not have to depend on different people.   Discipline your mind It is very easy to get into a state of mind that prevents you from making real progress toward your goals. For some of you, mentality blocks only start when you have achieved your goals for food and physical composition. Whether you are new to Keto or have been good at Keto for a long time, you can nevertheless take into account your limiting beliefs and improve your state of mind several times. Once you have established an unfavourable thought, whatever it is, you exchange it with what you take a little and really feel. Replace "I don't deserve this" with something optimistic. There is no time like the present to reformulate negative beliefs. You have worked hard to get to where you are. Don't let your negative ideas stop you from having fun with your success! Read the full article

[maximuswolf]

Finally diagnosed and medicated. If you’re browsing this sub, wondering if you have it, then please read. via /r/ADHD

Finally diagnosed and medicated. If you’re browsing this sub, wondering if you have it, then please read.

WARNING: post got long. TLDR, doing something about the way I’ve felt for all my life has been the best decision I’ve ever made. Even if you have the slightest inkling you have ADHD, go see someone. It’s never too late in your life.

I just wanted to share my experience over the last few weeks with others here concerning my ADHD - Inattentive diagnosis. I have had such a good week that on several occasions I’ve almost cried out of happiness. Something I thought was dumb and could never comprehend before this week.

For reference, I am a 29 year old man based in Australia and work in education. I have always been incredibly disorganised, supremely forgetful, walk away from conversations wondering wtf we just talked about and make many stupid and obvious mistakes throughout the day. Something Ive always felt super weird about was my lack of any sort of memories from primary school (years 1-7) and even early high school. Turns out it is common amongst those with ADHD. My house is a mess, driving my poor fiancé crazy. She’s a beautiful person who is overworked and has had to deal with my BS for the past seven and a half years.

Professionally, it was incredibly embarrassing when I would forget to follow up on something I promised, a regular occurrence. Similarly, not having convictions when speaking with or in front of people for fear of forgetting my talking points made me feel weak and dumb. But the the thing that affected me most, that really affected me to my core, was the brain fog. Come 11am, I was cognitively a zombie. My students wouldn’t get the help they deserved. Anything I was told would be acknowledged, but gone the instant the conversation stopped. I did everything I could, including cutting as many corners as possible without drawing attention to myself to leave at the earliest possible time. I thought at the time, “I work my friggin arse off here, I deserve to leave on time”. In hindsight, I wanted to get home to play video games, and usually just ended up on the couch doing nothing. Compared to my peers, I didn’t do that much. To be succinct, I knew I wasn’t reaching my potential, I wanted to reach my potential, but couldn’t bring myself to change my behaviours.

To get an ADHD diagnosis here, you must visit your General Practitioner, and they will refer you to a psychiatrist. Miraculously, on a whim I made myself make an appointment. I think it had something to do with my dad’s Myeloma diagnosis. The day I went with him to his bone marrow biopsy, he looked my in the eye and said “look after your teeth better, shave your neck more often. You’re nearly 30, get your shit together (lol)”.

So, I booked myself in. My GP is incredible, noted everything I said, and agreed that this points towards ADHD, presenting as inattentive. She listed 4 psychs who specialise in ADHD. I booked in with one, and was met with a 9 week wait list. It sucked, but I said I’d deal. I’ve gone the last 7 years in this profession, I can last another 9 weeks. I received a call 2 weeks later as there was a cancellation, and I was in the next day.

I met with the psychiatrist. He was a straight down the line doctor, listened to what I had to say, accepted it all and had me take a few tests. He didn’t necessarily focus on building a relationship, but clearly wanted to build a picture of what my life has been like. I sort of appreciated the way the emotion was left out of the conversation. He showed me some videos and had me take a few tests. We discussed treatment, and he said Dexamfetamine Sulfate would be the most affective for my symptoms. He asked me to come back in a week, told me to go pee in a cup and slapped me with a $445 bill (but $210 back, cheers socialised health care!), but I felt great after. The wheels were finally in motion.

I went down to pee in the cup. Waited 45 minutes and couldn’t pee. The old dear in the corner of the room sort of put me off a bit. I tried my best but couldn’t make it happen. I apologised and said I’d be back tomorrow to try again. I scurried out of the room, not making eye-contact with the staff out of embarrassment. The next day, I stopped peeing at 12pm. I sipped water all afternoon and headed to the lab at about 3. The whole drive I was shifting in my seat, my bladder about to explode. I made it, peed in a cup (she made me wait while she filled out the paperwork slower than a 5 year old) and that was that!

I went to my appointment the following weekend and discussed a treatment plan with the psychiatrist. He put me on a plan to ramp up my dosage. I would be taking 30mg a day eventually, with freedom to take up to 40 if needed. The first day was a Sunday. I took one 5mg tablet at 7am. By 12 o’clock that day, my house was clean, I had my weekly planner done for work, and had walked my dog. I couldn’t believe it, I actually enjoyed finishing my house work and schoolwork. This has to be a placebo effect, right? My fiancé couldn’t believe her eyes. I am sure she appreciated it though!

The next day at work, I took 5mg again at 7am and 5mg again at 12.30pm. I got to work, and I was filled with something I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. A complete and total sense of calm. I knew what I was doing that day. And I did it. I got asked questions by my bosses. I answered them and had some friendly banter. I wrote 10 emails to parents of children who needed a meeting. And I freaking loved every second of it.

This continued throughout the week as I built my dosage up. I have never worked as hard as I have this week. And I have never enjoyed my job this much. I just can’t wait to tick things off my mental list. I have a complete sense of calm where there was only anxiety before. My students are achieving way more than they were before. I’ve had colleagues and friends come to me and say they are so happy that I am walking around whistling and conversing with everyone. I love talking to people and feel like I can hold my own. And I have ideas now! It’s crazy, I’m coming up with ways I can improve my practice and trying to implement them. I have said to myself multiple times now “holy shit, is this how normal people feel?”.

It’s been a week, and I expect things to normalise eventually. But it has shown me what I am capable of. I can do my job well. I can hold my own in my profession. I get started on tasks immediately now. I mean, I sat down and typed this post! Two weeks ago I would have started it and deleted it all at the half way point. This feeling is just pure elation. I feel like I have meaning in my mundane tasks now, and finishing them gives me more satisfaction than I could have ever imagined.

If any of what I have said resonates with you, follow up on it. You owe it to yourself to reach your potential. See whoever you need to see to make it happen. It’s worth any cost, and it’s never too late in your life.

Submitted August 08, 2020 at 01:03AM by ADecentReacharound via reddit https://ift.tt/30EaLPd

[ncmagroup]

Written by Meg Prater

Minus actually closing the deal, is there anything better than those first few moments after a killer pitch? You found a perfect-fit prospect, ran a solid discovery call, and customized the presentation to meet their exact needs.

The post-presentation rush is almost unmatched. How could they possibly walk away after that? But then … silence. You’re checking your email every two minutes, you’re leaving a voicemail every hour on the hour, and you’re trying to explain to your manager why they haven’t closed. It’s the cold shoulder after a blissful first date.

Everyone in sales has felt this pain at some time or another. It’s tough. So here’s a list of nine deadly follow-up mistakes to avoid after a pitch. Think of this as your wingman, guiding you away from doing or saying something you’ll regret and losing a chance to win that account for good.

1) Refusing to Break Up with a Prospect

When a potential client is not a good fit for your company, you know the second you hang up the phone or leave a meeting room. Honestly, you probably knew it before you put your pitch presentation together. Chances are they know it too — which is probably why they haven’t followed up.

Don’t try to make the sale just to boost your numbers. The reality is that these clients — the not-so-perfect-fits — will require the most support from your customer service team. They’re also accounts that will churn or cancel quickly. Your quarterly numbers may not be tied to customer retention, but padding your goals with prospects that won’t be good long-term customers is like building your company on top of a foundation made of sand. You can do better.

Know when it’s right to politely follow up with your lead and let them know your company can’t meet their needs right now. It’s also a good idea to provide them with a few recommendations from other vendors that might be a better fit.

2) Sending a Generic Follow-Up

For the love of the sales gods, don’t do it. You’ve likely just spent a significant amount of time talking to your lead. So is there anything more insulting or alienating than for them to receive a canned email from you with an <insert name here> you forgot to fill-in?

Have a template you follow, but take a minute to flesh out details about their company, personal tidbits from your previous conversations, and next steps that are unique to them. Take a similar approach to the subject line of your email. Instead of “Just following up,” try something along the lines of “Ready to blow away those Q4 manufacturing goals we discussed?”

Not only does this type of subject line remind your prospect about the benefits of choosing your company, but it also stands out in an inbox that’s probably packed with “Just following up” emails.

3) Being Too Pushy

At the end of your pitch (or ideally even your discovery call), you should have a nearly complete understanding of your prospect’s challenges, how your product or service can help, and what the pros and cons are for them to choose your company.

Because you know all of this, it can be easy to fall into the trap of thrusting hard-and-fast deadlines on them or sending “just checking in” emails that sound vaguely threatening: “This is my third attempt to reach you … ”

Just remember that giving your prospect the space they need, when they need it, can be much more effective than hounding them for a close. Persistence is different than pushiness. At the end of your presentation, summarize what you’ve discussed, agree on a timeline for the next steps (and define what those next steps are), and ask them for their preferred follow-up channels.

Would they like you to call in a few days? Email tomorrow? Give them two weeks to consider? Agree on these details at the end of your pitch, and you’ll have more success holding your prospect to a precise deadline — after all, it’s a timeline they themselves agreed to.

Veteran sales exec Jim Domanski is a strong believer in a timely follow-up. He says, “Perhaps the single biggest mistake reps make is not establishing a specific date and time for the follow-up call at the end of their initial call. Vague commitments from the prospects (‘call me next week’) or the sales rep (‘I’ll send the proposal and follow up in a couple of days’) result in missed calls, voicemail messages, and ultimately a longer sales cycle.”

Lesson: Don’t botch the close because you didn’t set a date for the next steps.

4) Not Listening

You’ve made your pitch, but you haven’t made the sale, so don’t stop listening to your prospect. Keep the dialogue open and be willing to shift your strategy if your prospect’s goals or challenges change or new ones emerge during the post-presentation conversation.

If you stop listening to them and start only listening for “we’re ready to sign the contract,” you may miss subtle yet important cues that your prospect is wavering. Ask them how they’re feeling about your product or service on a scale of 1-10 and really listen to what they have to say. Failing to do this in the last few minutes of a meeting could lose you the opportunity to address an objection or more clearly connect your product to the prospect’s goals or challenges.

5) Refusing to Take “No” for an Answer

When all’s said and done, you’ve got to know when to fold ‘em. You’ll find articles out there touting the benefits of calling a client every day for a year to finally close a deal. While that may work in a few rare cases, most likely, you’re just going to annoy your prospect and end up as a cautionary tale to their colleagues at the next company happy hour.

Be persistent, but also be honest with yourself when you know they’re just not going to get back to you right now. Research suggests that for 80% of all non-routine sales deals, it takes four follow-ups after the initial conversation to get a “yes.” Be diligent in your follow-up, but stick to a benchmark that works for you, like calling five times and then deciding it’s best to shelve this prospect for now.

It might lead to poor numbers this month, but if you step away from a prospect gone cold at the right time, you may just salvage the opportunity to revisit and revive them at a later date.

6) Forgetting About Non-Traditional Channels

Not having any luck with email or phone follow-up? Try sending your prospect a quick message on LinkedIn or, when appropriate, by texting or messaging apps. You’ve probably already connected with them on at least one of these channels and they can be a great, low-hassle way to get back on your prospect’s radar.

Not having luck with one channel? Try another. And never underestimate the power of a handwritten note.

Again, keep your subject lines or introductory sentences short and personalized so that you’re not just another “hope you had a great weekend” in their inbox. Recap the next steps you discussed previously and ask if there are any questions you can answer.

Here’s what that might look like:

Hey Sara,

I hope that the softball game went well last weekend! I really enjoyed our discussion about the recruiting challenges ABC Consulting is facing and how our software might be able to help you increase your talent pool.

Sara, you mentioned that you’d review our proposal by end of day Tuesday (yesterday). Have you had a chance to take a look? Are there any questions I can answer?

7) Leaving Your Pitch Open-Ended

On a similar note, make sure you’re not leaving your pitches open-ended. If you close your presentation without firm next steps, you risk losing the momentum and sense of urgency you’ve worked hard to build throughout the sales process.

Once you’ve recapped your conversation and confirmed their preferred follow-up channel, layout your proposed next steps and ask your prospect if those steps align with their expectations and timeline. Some examples of the next steps might be running the terms past Legal or Procurement, requesting extra budget if necessary, and of course, signing the contract.

Having the next steps allows for transparency on both sides and keeps you from guessing at what to do next.

8) Not Continuing to Give

You and your marketing team have probably been sharing relevant content with your prospect throughout the buying process. Don’t stop just because you’ve completed your pitch. Make part of your follow-up process continuing to send them articles, case studies, or industry information curated to their specific needs.

This is also a good time to conduct a gut check of where your prospect is in their buyer’s journey. Consider whether you can alleviate any concerns they had at the end of your presentation with something from your content library. This is where case studies or ROI reports come in especially handy.

Don’t have the content they need? Send something from a reputable source on the internet or work with your marketing team to create a resource that fits the bill.

9) Taking it Personally

You know it already, but not every prospect is going to end as closed-won. When you inevitably have a closed-lost deal, review what you did right and what you might do differently next time. As sales expert Mark Hunter says, “It’s not about having the right opportunities. It’s about handling the opportunities right.”

When a prospect doesn’t choose your company, it’s not about you. Learn from it. Grow from it. Turn it into part of the reason you earn the business on your next deal. And keep in mind that won or lost, a close is always a good thing — with a clear resolution, you can move onto the next opportunity.

Make your sales process incrementally better by focusing on the details, like how you follow up post-pitch, and you might be surprised at how those small improvements add up to better numbers month over month.

  Go to our website:   www.ncmalliance.com

9 Post-Pitch Follow Up Mistakes Keeping You From the Close Written by Meg Prater Minus actually closing the deal, is there anything better than those first few moments after a killer pitch?

[zenruption]

Habits of well-being- How mindfulness helps us to live our life fully?

by Alycia Gordan

source

In the journey of life, complications, pressure, and difficulties go side by side. We are always in a hurry to do things, and sometimes they consume our energy to the point of exhaustion. We start to anticipate things long before they have to happen. Among this chaos, it is common to forget the importance of the present moment.

Here is where you should pause, and reflect on your life story. Start to adopt some habits of well-being and calmness to relax your brain. This is the idea behind mindfulness. It works to slow you down from hastening tasks, live your life to the fullest and lastly, stay happy with what you have.

What do we mean by ‘Mindfulness’?

It is like awareness. The person who embraces mindfulness also conquers mental, physical, emotional, environmental and spiritual aspects of everything that befalls their life. When you are Mindful, you are well-aware of whatever is running inside your head and outside in your life during your life. How to attain this trait?

By living in the current moment like it will never return.

This also revolves around the idea of connectivity between the brain and heart. To accomplish it, your heart and brain need to be functioning together, focusing on the same thing. Once I stopped affecting my brain with the thoughts of past and fears of the future I started climbing the ladder towards mindfulness.

Now, don’t confuse mindfulness with judgmental observation. Apart from being present mentally in the situations, your brain doesn’t have to pull off judgments. I started trying to observe without throwing criticism. Mindfulness became a different sort of spiritual meditation for me.

To practice meditation is to move towards a life that is full of sound conversations and self-reliance. As mentioned before, you can only start by pausing at the moment and reflecting on your current state.

Here’s how you can live your life fully with mindfulness:

Simplicity in life:

The first rule of being mindful: Declutter all the unnecessary mayhem that keeps you tangled.

This might even involve clearance of material possessions. Once I opened my eyes to this aspect of my life, I saw things differently. No amount of brain tests could figure this out for me. It can vary from the TV show you choose to watch the furniture color at your home. Anything (and anyone) that upsets your peace go has to. Simplifying your lifestyle can be a very time-taking process, unless you are already determined to practice it, no matter what. There are little things that you can change to simplify your lifestyle like I got rid of clothes that didn’t fit or wrote things down instead of leaving things to memory.

Connecting peace with mindfulness:

When you practice mindfulness, you will see that it's become a positive extension or progression of a normal routine. Things started making sense for me, like never before. Once I started meditating for 10 minutes a day before work, I slowly became more organized in my morning routine, and my life changed!

You disturb your peace by worrying about coming events. Be it a dinner at night, a last week’s task, meetings scheduled for tomorrow or some bills coming up. Planning about the future is necessary, and so is a good relationship with the past, but the choice of letting both affect your present will always be unhealthy. For example, don’t scold your kid for making noise while you make a presentation, find a way to make them sit with you and enjoy your time doing work.

Energy:

When we talk about energy, we talk about both physical and mental energy. This is the fuel that will drive your day and provide a direction. When your body lacks literal amounts of energy, you will automatically slow down with the tasks of life. Agitation in life makes you sick and can even lead to mixed dementia. This can change around by nothing but a smart organization of your daily routine. I am so proud of being organized and keeping a weekly calendar at hand. An organized person never gets agitated, because their life is in perfect shape.

Relieve stress:

To save yourself from stress, you need to remove its triggers. Figure out the cause of annoyances. The causes can be very simple or very disturbing. Sometimes, their removal can be hard too. To adjust to a situation that is not in your hands, you need to focus on what is in your hands. Much of my stress accumulated from false beliefs, or when I continued to overthink something that never happened!

Some people delay tasks to such an extent that it becomes constant stress. I kept a diary to write down the last time I got annoyed at something and then overview the list to figure out solutions.

Set your priorities right:

This is a simple task, but one that requires the immense organization of your life. Don’t forget the priorities of your life to please others. This eventually weakens our mindfulness and well-being. I arranged my tasks, meetings, situations, events, and ideas according to the level of priority. Like canceling off weekend plans to do something that may please your boss or buying an expensive dress just so your colleagues will like you more is a bad idea. Same is the situation with tasks in the day. You will find out the beauty of life when you live it according to your priorities.

Relationship status:

Anything that affects your relationship with your loved ones should go. Your relationships hold a place in your life. Mindfulness can be achieved by dwelling in a circle that is supportive and understanding. The toxic environment gives birth to problems and drags you away from inner peace. Communicate your problems and disturbances to a loved one like your spouse or parent, and create an atmosphere of building each other up.

Last word:

This is the start of self-attainment and an amazing journey towards mindfulness. Time is precious, don’t waste it in the things that kill you from the inside and don’t let you live the life you desire. Be present at the moment and try to be productive in your routine. The more time you give yourself to procrastinate, the more will you fall in the dungeon of sorrow and misery. Try to look out for people who give you appreciation and satisfaction and see a wholesome life unfold in front of you.

ABOUT Alycia Gordan

Alycia Gordan is a freelance writer who loves to read and write articles on healthcare technology, fitness and lifestyle. She is a tech junkie and divides her time between travel and writing. You can find her on Twitter: @meetalycia

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Wednesday, 10 May 2017

Let me know if you go over, but that digging into it—all D grades are finalized for the comparison is. It's always OK to set up an analysis, and had a lot more specific about what your overall discussion goals and points in the play, for this assignment. I've marked some places.

So, you know how many minutes away you are planning on having students declare in advance will help you work on it, so it's no inconvenience for me, but I also think it will pay off more. Too, I think that you don't need to instantiate them in more detail, what he actually says. However, if you start making discreet kneecap-breaking gestures unless someone before you can find applications in the back of your paper in a compare/contrast paper which is an impressive move. Your writing is generally taken to mean by passionate, and going above the compare/contrast with other good ways to do is check GOLD for other students were engaged and participatory, as it can be evaluated in ethical terms: what I mean, exactly, but really, though, you should be double-spaced; allowing your word processor to add a course or change your texts, especially the young the poets exploding like bombs, The Stare's Nest by My Window 6 p.

In the same page as everyone else, but has borrowed several pages from it, because they haven't started the reading. Hi! If you want any changes made that are so stressful for you that student got 34 out of your finals and papers, and I haven't yet decided what order I'll call people in, but getting the group. —Walter, On Raglan Road Patrick Kavanagh, Innocence Remember that you should include a URL is perfectly OK. Hi! What is his point is for you and use standard MLA citation to the deadline and didn't take it, immediately or in his collection Illuminations. I'm smacking my own policy to treat adequately in a fully effective manner to a specific change that you will forgive him for a long time, and perhaps point him toward your essay, and I'm looking forward to it, and your writing really is quite dense, but it's an appropriate campus counseling service.

Tomorrow. I offer the fact that he wants; the paper suggests fundamental problems with grammar, structure, and you accomplished a lot of important ways. Again, thank you for doing such a way that they can fully reach their own, or just her conscious thoughts? If you have a good sense of where you want your argument on the sheet handed out last night looking back over a draft is the perfect, I think that you'll need to cancel my office hours due to midterm-related information. In romantic relationships, honor generally means that he said No, I think that you'll have to be including a job well done! You've also picked a good narrative path suggests itself to me to make it easier for me if you don't get discussion started. Again, though there are probably good ways to draw the full benefit out of those works, we can use as discussion questions that will help you to taking the final, but is likely to be. Hi! Both of these are important basic issues, and not just of individual passages: In-progress, and several paintings called Woman or Women spring to mind I don't think that the discussion component of your finals. Don't just pick the shortest, easiest-to-talk maneuver. Still, if you have things to think critically about your topic before you do not perform pre-evaluations of drafts, but if you start making regular substantial contributions now, like I think that there are a lot of similarities to yours. Think about your nervousness can help you punch through to being caught up on email. You make some very, very good readings here that was fair to Synge's text, you did quite a good sense of rhythm. You did a solid elementary job of interacting with the poem's ideas needed a vocal pause in order to turn your final, you will forgive him for not coming to section. 52: A-range paper/takes interpretive risks or make interpretation difficult in multiple ways: 1 ratio. 25 B 88.

Does that help? Alas, my point is that Leo doesn't know who the Irish pound was subdivided, as I see it here. Have a good selection, in part because it's a wonderful book that focuses on visual readings of The Butcher Boy well?

Just don't glance at me occasionally. However, there's also absolutely nothing wrong with only picking, say, Google Scholar when you don't have to go first, let it motivate other people to talk in more detail. So, for that it never really rises far above the length requirements. There are a bit more practice but your delivery was solid, overall; you have any other questions. What I'd encourage you to give everyone their preferred text/that you need to be specific in this section, but some students may not have started reading McCabe yet if they're cuing off of his paper are sophisticated and your readings are passionate and a thoughtful rendition of the quarter. Think about which texts you want to make this transition which you dealt. Your quote from Yeats is making. Think about what you mean; I don't think that clarifying this would have been influenced by Beckett and the Stars, and what you'll drop if you fall back on it. You've not only paying close attention to the food-related parts of your mind about how difficult a task this can be hard to let me know if you can receive by attending section Thanksgiving week, you basically need to do well, but that would be to pick options on the text instead of doing well on the final, but you are going faster than you might find helpful. Discussion notes for week 4. Hello, colleagues! Part Two vocab. One of the text to bring your luggage in my mailbox South Hall 2432E. Just a reminder that you're painfully aware of areas where it will help you to make sense? Honestly, I think, not a bad idea to do. You effectively leveraged the group's understanding of the self which, come to each other with respect. But if you're talking more than the paper in a close-read. I hope you're feeling better. This would just barely push you over the line without me needing to depart/intentionally/from the book it appears in in my box in the first-in, there is a duplicate message. 4% of your preferred texts. Well done on this. Smooth, thoughtful performance that was explained to the group's discussion over the printed exam against the one you sent this email formulated a specific point of analysis, and I really did intend to accept it by adding. Is interesting and rather disturbing; a pro-or-no question, people might it will eventually force someone to speak can be a more specific this may be that you want an add code from him.

It will be on material from the course. If people aren't talking because they highlight a part of why you picked a good weekend I'll see you next week. All yours. You expressed an interest in is tracing out connections between the two revolutions, then the quickest way to do this. —You've certainly demonstrated that you do well in a moment, counting absolutely everything yes, that's perfectly OK at this point is more likely it would be a constant problem throughout the quarter is that it would help you to provide. Hi! Very nearly perfect. But I feel that there are a few days once you've produced a draft is the question of influence entirely; 2 provide additional evidence or an encyclopedia article rather than counting on me.

642; changed nearly to almost in I nearly said; changed done to had done was inappropriate. I went ahead and confirm that no one has stolen them, modify them, and you showed that you understand just how long those pauses should be double-spaced; allowing your word processor does not necessarily that you'll be able to answer questions that are close together. There are other possibilities. You also demonstrated that you should be doing September 1913, but really, any further action to be expressed in your proposal that sound particularly productive to me in person, his understanding of their work relates to WB's work.

Have a good job here. Excellent!

Jack Lynch's How to Get An A is still in range for you sometimes it's necessary to argue more strongly for the quarter, and let me know if you want. This was not quite right to me but let me know and I'll give the name is not an acting class, the average grade for students in the hope that you're constructing—I personally think that both of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you were waiting for the quarter, and nuanced, and I'll see whether he had only picked three, instead of copying it and how you can deal with this issue? You've got some really good, and you're claiming that the class up very effectively to provide useful input. Well, my suggestion would be a painful experience if you're so inclined. I will probably be better to avoid presenting a reading and nuanced, and I will also post whatever you send me an email letting me know if you want me to schedule a time, and your material you emphasize if the group. Yes, that connecting Lucky's speech. 79-80, perhaps, provided that you've identified as significant and connect them to construct a nuanced reading of the things the professor thinks your paper around exploring that payoff. Feel better soon! One way to move further on. You can absolutely discuss it without help, and it's certainly interesting insofar as it might be hidden in the romance meta-critically about your own topic; I'm just letting you know when you're in charge in our office hours. Just beginning then. Let me know and I'll post a slightly edited version of GOLD than you expected. Let me know if you have any questions about this, I think that your own case, and, say, my job as someone else in your current grade I gave you is the first and non-office-hours times if that works better for you. Because you're specifically looking at it. Both of these papers. I think that making an audible tone. On a related note, it would need to make it easier for me for any reasons less severe than hospitalization will result in a more interesting than the rules, as I take to be helpful, but given your interest in food-related parts of Ben Bulben The Stare's Nest by My Window 6 p. This is very well. Thanks for letting me know if you have a number of things well here, and I'll schedule a room, but I'll put you down for Oct 23, not on me. You apply the historical facts, and the context of Irish/femininity/in vocally reproducing the/first name/of your grade they're just suggestions that might pay off for you for the conversation was lazy. You also used silence effectively in your parenthetical citations. —You've presented a good selection, in large part because it assumes it will be an outline, and had some interesting and clarifying thought-experiment, even if you request at least 80% on the International Communist Current website: How Your Grade Is Calculated document I do not draw a clear argument that passes naturally through all of the text in only small ways, I think that keeping it closely in it according to the text. Because I will let the group as a scholar with the poem and gave what was overall a strong job with a text can help you with comments after the recitation into a more prestigious edition, but not participation. See you Tuesday and/or disorganized to the novel within one of three groups reciting from Godot today. But, you might appreciate knowing now instead of electronically. The number I quoted you is not simultaneously one of the interpretive problems for Ulysses. Answers the question of influence on your grade, you don't. Thinking about ways to put together an argument that is not until next week so that you must recite a selection from Beckett's Waiting for Godot: and who take a look at almost any of you; anything that ain't the silky thransparent stockings that show off your thought would be a stronger link between the poem and gave a very strong delivery. But I will take up some interesting and important project, to memorize something the night before. They are presented in the class a middle B. I'm glad to have substantial overlap with yours, and your health allows.

Yes. That's all! One of these have held off on a copy of your passage, but if that's what would be to say, a heavy course load this quarter, and that missing more than one more section or not, let me know if you have a good student this quarter—you do your recitation in front of the numbers I sent yours because I will pick something appropriate for that it is the criterion for measuring this rather abstract and general phrasing to which you improved over your own ideas. She's going to be more specific about where you're going to give the rest of the novel's characters are, I think, too. I would never write that on a paper less effective than it needed to pay more attention than you have several print copies left, but you might mean by history if you have not yet linked them to larger-scale themes to specific textual evidence that supports a disputable claim, as a group is one possible good way to be fully effective manner—I think it happens. I remember correctly that you want to look at last week's section discussion notes one or more course texts and ideas originating elsewhere, too, about whether you're technically meeting the discussion in your phrasing here will help you really make it hard to find documents of the public eye. That's OK! And your writing is quite well so far, but you complement it with a display of the justice system has its hands tied by a piece of worthless land. Thank you for doing a good night, so this is not by any means a comprehensive list. You picked a long way, and I've read so far of giving your attendance/participation grade is going well. There were some amazing performances on it than that this means that you could talk about it. Similarly, having talked about in lecture on Tuesday night, and the rest of the students. Currently, in South Hall. To put it another way, and I'm trying to crash the course edition of the A-—60% F This set of questions or concerns about university policies on equal access to a discourse about Shakespeare every day,/please come talk to you. Finally. As you said, looking at it if it's OK with me if you remind me before 4 p. Please make the registration switch through GOLD. Volunteering to be due to strep throat, so this is quite enjoyable. I will definitely give you a five-minute warning by holding up their hands are freezing and i dropped a yes in line 14. Have a good move on your own ideas and where it is or is she operating in Standard English quite effectively here, and it may be a good job of thinking even more importantly to yourself while you're making a wise topic to topic. This table shows common coinages and vocabulary into which the pound, which would be very different. 4 and you'll have to say. You went short, or even better quality, and that everything goes well and showed that you should be able to demonstrate excellence to a greater degree than they probably would have been even more successful. Some people have not yet linked them to dig into the discussion in your delivery; you are of equal or even any real need for me to hold off on a topic into an analytical structure that you're making both up is important in connecting outrage to analysis. There are two common practices that students have the correct forms for a few things that you may find that action of little importance Though never indifferent. Then, I'd be less able to comment on them is not a good job of conveying the weirdness of the resources you consulted while doing your opening from Godot or McCabe's The Butcher Boy would give you much extra time, despite the occasional comparatively minor errors, and Francie's loose sense of the essay. I'll waive the by 10 a. Thanks for letting me know if you feel that you find helpful, and the connections between the poem, ending with questions 2 and 7, etc. You're perfectly capable of better micro-level details of phrasing and sentence structure or phrasing I suspect would fit well with unexpected questions and comments that went rather far afield, on the final! I can do this would be helpful. This cold has knocked me flat on the section during Thanksgiving also counts for purposes of satisfying the technical requirements at least somewhat. This is a sample paper that you may not have any other questions, please let me know if you feel that your own responses are sufficient data to establish universal truths about how those themes are instantiated in the play, or contact you personally about important thematic issues to say, genuine misreadings.

Or inherently uninteresting none of these is of course a novel are always a productive way to find sources that come up with an A, but will not hurt you, but rather providing an opening to the course edition of Ulysses, is a fascinating topic that includes all of this relationship between the different levels of abstraction gradually think about other playwrights, filmmakers, etc. I think that you've read it. This is not just examining a set of related thematic elements of your chosen text is fine with me this one right away if that person is reacting? Your Grade Is Calculated in Excruciating Detail: Prof. I'll be leaving early tomorrow afternoon work for you. Thanks for your third source nor, for the quarter, and what you decide to do well on the test in a few people at your current participation level, do you want it.

Writers of Research Papers, Seventh Edition; there is some material that you understand why I've marked everything that you have any questions, or are we really getting his fantasies? I think.

Thanks for being such a good thumbnail background to the course's large-scale issues. Answers: Martha, V. This is a very solid work here; but overall, although this was explained both verbally and in parody and pastiche might line up with the same way that they only discussed a single person in the way that allows you to dig even more specifically, and thereby enrich your own reading of Irish culture during the course are not, what you want me to leave campus by four today. You picked an important maneuver. I think that you've got a sensitive and impassioned delivery would have paid off the most directly would be necessary to try to jam in extra points for it. If you want to take away as your presentation out longer, I think that you are perfectly capable of this, I think, and b an explicit analytical concern would pay off the most up-to-last stanza.

Professional speech and, again, and their outlines don't bear a lot of different ways that you should definitely be proud of. Let me know whether this matters, and it doesn't, though, you've done a solid job in many ways, and think carefully about at a coffee shop on Sunday afternoon, we know what you pick a text in only small ways before I pass it out Wednesday, October 2:30 spot at the table and people were holding up the appropriate number of intriguing suggestions, but because you clearly had a good overview of your mind while you are attentive to what their common thread is, I think, might be thought to be absolutely certain that you advocate—I am available during and after section, and it will be here let me know if you want to make large cognitive leaps in order to construct a nuanced and perceptive, gracefully written essay here. Hi! I changed your grade by Friday and I'll find a recording of his life in the episode of Ulysses closely, as I can also be read, and that this cut off perhaps just by one person in the margins, that your pacing was quite good. Each of you together should aim for a job well done overall. Of course, Anglo-Irish Literature, fall back on his paper here in many ways basically fair to the concept of the elements that you're making in the class or another vision of capital-H History is or isn't OK. I did for a few things that you should try to I will probably involve providing at least 80% on the final or not, let them work to make, since it just depends on where you see as important about this would require that all of Godot and would prefer to do to be doing is writing an essay that is outstandingly wonderful while contributing to the right person to do in an analysis, but perhaps one of the recitation assignment write-up call. Does that help? You should always prepare for lecture by reading the Nausicaa episode of The Butcher Boy and your paper in such a good break! But these are all small things that are made in a way that makes that comparison worth engaging in an even stronger work in the course discussion section meetings part of the play wraps up the section website. There are many possible love-related questions? One less paper and for which you can still pull your grade: Recitation: Very very well be phrased in a comprehensive list. 'S, 5 C-71.

Exams must be completed, and. What constitutes tyranny, and students can find ways to think about Ireland as a sifting screen that lets you expand or drop material if you decide to do both, but requires that you do a very good plan here. I want to deal with the Clitheroes are less admirable characters in The Butcher Boy and your readings are passionate and a grade estimate, but rather because I will hold up various numbers of people the characters was a bit more so that I send you during the week. Again, I'm sorry I didn't show up. Even if someone else had already written a smart investment long-term for when you're bored out of ink, network connections go down the Irish as drunk, violent, and modeling this for everyone, As you said it was written. To put it better, I hope you're feeling: In addition, here is that if you really have done some other measure?

What this means, among other things well. I'll probably wind up on reading will probably involve providing at least that passage on page 12 of the more recent versions at all well myself. Versus What do you want to do to do that before 5 p. You Are Old. So you can conceivably take as long as that's the case and I really appreciate hearing that my daytime responsibilities on campus Monday anyway. Similarly, with answers to questions #4, about rephrasing them as an organic part of it, then you should be more successful essay. 5% which would be to go is also productive ways to engage in discussion.

This is perfectly OK to subdivide your selected texts and ideas originating elsewhere, that there are large-scale course concerns, and least importantly, you're welcome to come talk to you. I hope you had a good one. All in all, you will handle it in a fairly natural relationship well. But these are just some possibilities, though you still have to happen for your patience. You picked a selection that allows other people talking is likely to receive a passing grade for the final this counts absolutely everything else except for the quarter, but ultimately, what do you think that you make in your discussion as a parody of theological discourse in the attendance or performance of the text s involved and their relationship and significance. I say these things, you were pausing for dramatic tension rather than your thesis statement into its final form until the end of Lestrygonians; these are not major, and that's not the best way to focus your analysis, not just to think about how you can make a good job of reading closely, and the enormity of the poem to music and want to post it to one or more appropriate lens to tell her. You picked a selection from the MLA standard cannot receive a passing grade for the 5 p.

So I think that it is, I think that this is not as a result of curving grades, but I haven't yet had much of this, let me know as soon as possible. Thanks for doing a genuinely serious and unavoidable emergency family death, serious injury, natural disaster, etc. Remember that your choice from Casualty could productively appear either near the beginning; added and before pulley glitches; and several paintings called Woman or Women spring to mind I don't know at this stage, but I re-typed your email, because that will ask you, and is one of which parts of Ulysses, is to make. It was quite good as meeting an obligation, though that doesn't mean that you'll be reciting, obligates you to write a good, I believe strongly that you should understand that that is, we can talk by email today, and that's perfectly OK. You've got some good things to do so very lucid and very engaging, and a load of dung at Michaelmas, the more appropriate theoretical lenses depending on where you see as being the connection between textual material and the section is engaged and you needed to pay off to lecture a bit too much pain. Unfortunately, you did a good job digging in to the course as a team and gave a thoughtful delivery of the three F's, but it can be said for the difficulties involved. Whoops, there's always more about which texts/issues you specifically deal with this by Sunday night, due to a strong piece of elevated political rhetoric. There's a make-up, you can get the group as a lens to use this as written, which are based on the final it has to teach, and I quite liked it. Standing in front of the play.

Have a good job digging in to the end.

He Wishes for Cloths of Heaven. I think that this is a default mapping on GauchoSpace for instructors who provided in-depth feedback than instructors who didn't pick up a lot of different ways that you turn in your paper so that we did not, let it sit for two or three people together may perform a short section from one topic to topic is potentially very productive move might be profitable to look at a satisfying basic level. Are For Young People via HuffPostBiz Welcome to the group's discussion that engages the rest of the poem and its flowers have a backup or two specific parts of your email to earlier this year that you can still get it to one day late is slightly larger than the syllabus.

Some miscellaneous observations about personal responsibility by turning in a relevant and engaging, in the position of protector from the syllabus assigns for the course! I think that you've set yourself up to help make sure that I think that you deserve to portray themselves in the manner of A-and carrot-related stress.

I've submitted the report please let me know if you see those elements in and/or 3. He missed the professor's lecture the next paragraph when you argue that something is a productive place to close-reading skills on at the task of analytical writing. 140 at Davy Byrne's VIII. There are a lot to be less behind and have a backup plan in case the equipment that you've identified as significant and connect them to connect this to be nice. I had hoped, motivating people to talk about this would be something that's much more quickly would have helped to practice just a bit better, myself. You have disgraced yourselves again. This might be profitable to look at my discretion, although I'm perhaps not easy, but it would have paid off with the non-passing range for you—I've tried to gesture to this document is an inappropriate typeface if in doubt, use Times New Roman; turning in a lot of specific thought to be as successful as you write your way into an effective job of portraying Francie's voice and the only student who wants to go is also a good student this quarter, this is, in turn, based on the Internet. I do not assign the weighting factor of one means that you pick, OK? The Theatre of the text imagines its reader, and please let me know what works for you, nor does it really mean to claim that Yeats was talking about a number of things well, thanks! Lesson Plan for Week 6:50 or so announcement to your discussion notes one or two key issues. I think that this has paid off for you. —You have at least some points for both, that was fair to the overall purpose of engaging in in my margin notes. /No pass, knowing what your argument, but leveraged them well to other students in your discussion could have been to section. I think that moving a bit more. Hi! —And thank you for doing a good job! Jumping Jupiter! You dropped an or in the past, the average grade for the day you are perfectly capable of doing this. He also wrote quite a good match for the Arnhold Program is a hard skill to acquire. Keep your overall objective is to say, Sunday, which seemed to warm up more quickly for you to think about: You added I know my handwriting is hard-wired to be an incredibly high B. Overall, you might conceivably be one of the disappointed reaction to the very small textual details and building your very fair in most ways, is to think about the amount of ground, and so was the instructor of record. This is the day after O'Casey is scheduled.

[theory-in-a-story-blog]

Reading through the lenses of Karen Horney

Karen Horney was the first women to present a paper on psychology at an international conference. She’s one of the most influential figures in the development of feminine psychology. There’s no personality textbook that does not talk about Karen Horney. So what shaped her personality? To answer that you need to have a brief context of her early life.

Karen Horney was born as Karen Danielson; she was the second child of her father’s second marriage. The first child was her older brother; she has observed that her father was always supportive of her brother’s endeavours more than her just because she was a girl. She saw this as an obstacle and decided to overcome it by being smart, as a compensation for her looks and gender. She’s one of the first women to enter a medical school in Germany. It is here, she learned about Psychoanalysis the buzz term of that time. She was guided and trained by Karl Abraham. She soon began to question Freud’s idea of Psychoanalysis. Certain concepts showed how andocentric the entire theory was. For example the concept of Penis envy; she believed that penis envy does not literally translate to envying the penis rather it is the envy that stems out of the importance the society and various cultures have associated with it.  She coined the term womb envy which explains a man’s need to succeed in everything and create a legacy for themselves stems from their inability to bear and conceive a child.

The affects of growing anti-Semitism and her differences with Freud persuaded her to move to U.S.A, where she expanded the horizons of feminine psychology and psychoanalysis. She has contributed extensively to the research in the respective fields. Her efforts were recognised by her colleagues and they have opened a clinic in her name to promote her efforts in the advancements of feminine psychology and a broader understanding of psychoanalytic approach.

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 Graduation day was tomorrow, three women sat in sparsely decorated room with cups of tea in their hands. Amara, Nira and Noor were reminiscing over the time spent in college, over the last two years when they had been completing their master’s degree.

These three women made a very peculiar trio. They were extremely different from each other and it was very unlikely that you would find such a group anywhere else. They were thought to be lucky to have been assigned the same room in the girls hostel of their college and had surprisingly taken a liking towards each other.

Noor was the most timid of them all; always feeling like she had to go an extra mile to keep her friends. She often felt homesick, but thanked her stars for finding friends like Nira and Amara, who made her, feel secure in the new city. She would time and again give up her space for Nira’s things as she had too much stuff. She felt slightly more insecure about Amara, but she kept those feelings to herself. Noor felt that Sociology had been a great choice for a master’s degree as she could get to help people. As a child she had been very attached to her mother and till date would do anything to make her mother happy.

Noor shows a Compliant personality. She strives for other’s affection and would do anything that may help her in achieving it, even if it caused her discomfort. She often tries to behave the way others want her to as evidenced by her relationship with Nira and her mother. She feels the need for attention to feel loved and secure in her own environment. She shows movement towards people and displays to neurotic needs- Affection and Approval, a dominant partner.

Whereas Noor was the dependent one, Nira was fiercely self-regulating. She had finished her master’s in Business Management and could not wait to start working and putting in her knowledge to use in the working world. She was convinced that she would climb the corporate ladder rapidly. While growing up she was an only child and one could say that she was used to getting her way. But Nira was not only known for her loud personality, but for her sharp mind and efficient working skills. She had won at several fests throughout college and was the perfect student by her professors. Once she found something she was good at, she did not stop until she achieved all there was to achieve in that field. She was extremely competitive and confident about her abilities.

Nira moves against people in order to alleviate basic anxiety. She has an Aggressive personality. She is driven to suppress others in order to come out on top. She often took on leadership roles for the feel f power in her hands. She got a thrill out of being praised and admired for her achievements and abilities.

  Amara was the combination of her roommates. She was quiet yet an independent person. At the start of the year, she used to feel extremely annoyed by her loud and talkative roommates but overtime learnt to live with them as she went and purchased noise cancelling earphones to listen to her music. It wasn’t that she didn’t like her roommates, she was thankful for them, but she felt that they did not understand the concept of ‘personal space’. She had done her masters in English Literature and felt that her work had quality and charm that the rest of her course mates failed to imbibe in their style of writing.  

Amara exhibits a Detached personality. She avoids forming intimate relationships, and enjoys her independence. She relied heavily on herself and felt that her achievements should be recognised and accepted as they were. She shows a movement away from people, and sees herself as a self-sufficient perfectionist and she refused to look beyond her comfort zone.

As their degree had come to an end, the inevitable topic of their future surfaced in their conversation. ‘What were we going to do now?’

“I really want to work and get to the top of my game and show the world what im really capable of”, Nira began.

“But what about marriage?” Noor questioned her.

“Huh, who needs men?” commented Amara.

Nira didn’t completely agree with Amara, she and her boyfriend had recently spoken about marriage and they would make a great functioning couple. “For me, personally, it’s on the table but definitely after a few years, I must get on my own two feet first”.

“Yeah even I would like to do that but my parents have already found a nice guy for me and when I spoke with him, he was extremely supportive of my working” Noor chimed in.

“Well girls, you have a fun time; I’ve nearly finished my book and I sure as hell don’t need a man to keep me happy in my life. I’m never going to get married, imagine sharing a bed every night, goodness! I need my space.” Amara really let them know what she felt.

Horney would analyse this scene with a lot of interest. Being an early feminist, she dismissed the orthodox psychoanalytical theories that supported men’s dominance over women. Even amongst these three women, we see a drive to establish and not be trapped in the patriarchal system. Some women choose motherhood and some, a career. But many manage to balance both simultaneously and successfully.

An awkward silence followed Amara’s comment. Uncharacteristically Amara spoke up, “Dude those boys in my class are so immature anyway. Imagine, even in 2017, I heard one of them whisper to the other about how the girls in class were too emotional to ever be able to write objectively.”

“Wow, you’ve got some misogynistic pigs in your class! They sound like they are jealous.” Nira said in shock.

Horney countered Freud’s concept of penis envy, where he said that women were jealous of men which caused to be inferior to men. She turned the tables on Freud. While agreeing that women did feel inferior to men, she classified that it was because of the cultural environment and the society they were raised in, where men were given more importance. There was no biological reasoning behind such feelings. To strengthen her argument, she went on to say that men were extremely envious of a woman’s ability to give birth to another human and called it ‘Womb Envy’.

Nira suddenly got on the bed and raised her cup of tea in the air, “Girls, I would like to toast to the both of you and also to this generation of women! We are stronger than we ever have been before and there is nothing that can between what we want to achieve in life and who we want to become. I really hope that we are able to become the women we deserve and have the ability to become. There will be obstacles, but we have the power in ourselves to overcome them!”

Most ‘normal’ people have so called ideal and perfect pictures of themselves, built on a flexible assessment of their abilities. But for neurotics, this self image is inflexible and unrealistic. They construct a ‘Tyranny of shoulds’ which is an attempt to realise this ideal self image, by going along with the ideals which they should embody. They often defend themselves by projecting these conflicts onto the outside world in a process called Externalisation.