#i wasn't scheduled for this saturday for work so i figured I might as well try something to earn some money

[pettyprocrastination]

Got approved for a spot at the flea market this weekend 

[writing-whump]

Can't stop throwing up

Sick feverish Isaiah with Arnie during a sleepover. Warning for emeto.

Arnie was so excited about tonight.

Could you celebrate the third week in a row that your oldest brother stayed over from Friday to Saturday for a sleepover?

Yeah, he should be getting a social life. But this was Isaiah they were talking about. Every new tradition, habit or event with him was a success in Arnie's book.

Things were going great. Hector and Isaiah weren't fighting, Isaiah was making new memories with all of them, they were getting along great.

Okay, so maybe Isaiah and Hector were both a bit overcareful, trying not to fight so much their conversations were rather shallow...and Isaiah wasn't exactly sharing much about his pack or life or studies or work...and they haven't exactly talked about anything that mattered for the last two times- but hey, they could use a breather, right?

There was the stuff with the reveal, the car accident, Hector's injuries, so basically Isaiah always came through for them in a crisis. They didn't need to create more tension by talking about heavy things when they could relax and discuss movies, right?

Arnie definitely didn't want to kill the mood. And any time they spend together they got to know each other better, right?

Right?

Arnie ordered takeout so they wouldn't have to worry about food. Isaiah loved cooking, but boy did it take time. Everything had to be perfect and cut to tiniest pieces and patiently waited for.

Arnie and Hector cooked 20 minutes long recipes tops. Throw it into the pan, add whatever is currently in the fridge and tada.

So Arnie figured out the shortcut, let the robot vacuum cleaner run the place clean and waited entirely patiently and without looking at the clock for 6 pm to come.

Isaiah came exactly on time, as usual. "Hey, kid."

Arnie didn't run to the door like a kid, mind you. He came slowly and with dignity, like an adult. "Isaiah!" He tried not to shout or smile too loud. His enthusiasm might become overwhelming at this pace.

The wolf hang his coat, trying to act more at home each time he came.

Arnie sneaked in a quick hug before revealing the dinner he prepared.

Isaiah looked...relieved at the sight. It made Arnie to take a second look, noticing how pale his oldest brother was.

"Hector has a pack meeting. He will be joining later," Arnie said, moving to get a plate for Isaiah for the Italian food and salad he ordered before the older could. He must have been tired to not manage to do it first.

"Right. Guess, it's you and me for tonight's movies, then."

"Go sit in the living room. I'll get it," Arnie said. "Hector might show up around 10 or something. He doesn't like taking calls during the meet. A definition of unavailable."

Another weird thing. Isaiah went to sit down as asked, not insisting to help.

Arnie brought both their plates, spaghetti and salad and meat, joining Isaiah on the couch. "Long week?"

Isaiah blinked in confusion. "Hmm? No. Not really. Maybe." He took a hesitant bite from the food as if to stop himself from other noninformative answers.

"Exams all finished?"

"Yeah, it was okay."

"Planning something for the summer?"

"Oh, just some work maybe. I got this practicum about urban structures creating cohesion in cities. Some wolf meets. We will probably go to a sea somewhere, don't know how Seline's family schedules look yet."

So leaving his week free for meddling and potential conflicts between packs, the weekly meets and something for school.

It was also hard to wrap his head around Seline's family schedules. Someone with parents to consider that they liked and that Isaiah wanted to get along with as well.

Made harder by the fact Arnie yet had to meet the girl and assess how truly fitting or even good she was for his brother.

Girls always separate brothers, don't they? They were separated for too long to girls doing the demages now.

Isaiah quietly ate his food, not asking back. Eyes towards the bowl like it was interesting. Or like he was tired.

Arnie tried to wiggle the conversation towards what happened last two weeks. No results. Isaiah was still as dodgy as always, tired or not.

They finished their food, sun slowly setting behind the windows.

Arnie had three movies prepared and was ready for a discussion, since the two of team knew most famous movies or classics and rewatched them just for the commentary. But Isaiah was happy to settle on the first option of the cult movie Fatal Attraction.

Arnie got lost in the plot and the atmosphere, curious what the more horrific parts of the movie would be like with Isaiah there...

Isaiah wasn't following much. His eyes were glassy and drooping. He leaned his head back and to the side, which was a change from his usual uptight and upright sitting.

Arnie wasn't sure what to make of it, when Isaiah's eyes fell shut, head lolling to the side.

Ah. So that's what it meant. He carefully saved that information up for later in his mental file.

Isaiah was breathing slow and loud against thr backdrop of the movie, the lights making his skin look even paler.

Arnie lowered the volume and snuggled closer to lean his head against Isaiah's shoulder. Still wasn't such a bad night. He could count it as a win that Isaiah relaxed enough to fall asleep.

***

The more scream-intense parts towards the end of the movie turned out to be a challange. It started to rain and Arnie couldn't hear anything with how quiet it was.

Each louder sound made Isaiah wince in his sleep and grumble something. Arnie soon gave up, shutting the TV off.

He went to fetch himself some tea with milk, feeling cozy listening to the rain. Isaiah was soundly alseep, breathing a bit erratically under the blanket Arnie threw over his curled up form.

It was almost 10 pm and no traces of Hector. Delaney, Hector's second was the one to text Arnie the meet was probably going to drag tonight.

Ah well.

A few muffled coughs interrupted his thoughts. Arnie poured the boiling water over the tea, leaving it to brew to go peek into the living room.

"Hey, you waking up, sleepyhead- holy shit!"

The coughs weren't just coughs. Isaiah was propped up on his elbow, coughing up pale brown pieces of their dinner over the sofa and the floor.

Arnie exclaimed, running to his side. He had to sidestep the puddle forming under Isaiah's head.

Isaiah moaned. Like actually, pitifully moaned, back arching as more vomit came up. His eyes were barely open, like he was still half asleep.

"Jesus, man. Hey, Isaiah? You with me?" Arnie nervously put a hand on his arm, a little out of his depth in face of such sickness from his neat, controlled and never to be seen sick brother.

Isaiah spit at the ground, before slowly sitting up, rubbing at his face. "Arnie? What...what happened?"

"Do you still feel sick?"

"Sick- what-?" Isaiah frowned, letting go of his face to look around and gasped in horror. "Christ, did I just- I'm so sorry, Arnie, I didn't-" he cut himself off with a burp at the sight of the mess.

He pressed a hand against his mouth but Arnie could hear the liquid rushing up his throat and splatter through his fingers with a force. A gush of vomit dripped down his chin on his white bottom up.

"Okay, man, think we should get you into the bathroom," Arnie said, surprised he managed something coherent with how shocked he was. It happened so fast, his mind was still catching up.

Arnie took Isaiah under the elbow, helping him manevour around the puke covering where he was lying on the sofa.

Isaiah wobbled on the way, stopping for a second to catch his breath. "God, aww." He pressed a hand to his stomach from the clean side. Another burp made him speed up though.

The sick wolf fell to his knees in front of the toilet and immediately heaved, whole body shaking with the wave of vomit that rushed out.

Arnie winced, kneeling down next to him to put a hand on his back. What the hell just happened? Did Isaiah not notice?

Isaiah folded over with the next retch, a guttural horrible sound that echoed through the whole bathroom. A far cry from the earlier inconspicuous coughs.

"Did it just hit you out of nowhere? Was it the food?" Arnie asked in his daze. "We had the same thing and I feel fine..."

"Urgh," Isaiah belched, face almost completely inside the toilet. The distinct sound of liquid hitting water followed right after.

Arnie rubbed his upper back, horrified how much it moved under his fingers as Isaiah's stomach contracted, back heaving and moving in waves with the sickness pouring out of him.

Isaiah's dirty shirt was complete transparent with the sweat. Arnie cupped his neck, hissing at the searing heat coming off him. "Shit, you are burning up."

Isaiah gasped for breath, finally lifting his head and pushing the flush bottom. "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize I was sick, I wouldn't have come." There was saliva and puke all over his chin.

Arnie grabbed the roll of toilet paper and handed it to him. "You didn't realise you were feeling off?"

"I was- thanks-" Isaiah cleaned himself up with shaky fingers. His complexion wasn't just pale but sickly green at this point. Arnie could count all the veins in his cheeks and around his eyes.

"I felt a bit off, but thought it was just stress." He slumped against the wall, taking quick sharp breaths.

"Was your week so bad?" Arnie took the crumbled paper from Isaiah's hands that went limp by his sides, throwing them out into the toilet. He was getting fed up by this mysterious work problem.

"No, not that..." Isaiah closed his eyes, a red flush forming over the top of his visible cheek. "'s usually when I come here, that my stomach hurts, that's normal," he mumbled.

Arnie gasped, looking away. His chest hitched painfully at the words, like someone poked him under the ribs enough to leave a bruise.

He didn't have time to work over the new fever confessed secret. Isaiah's throat bobbed dangerously, a low gurgling sound coming from his stomach. He wrapped his hand around the organ, groaning quietly. "I should go home. I don't feel so good."

Isaiah tried to stand. Arnie quickly grabbed his hand. "Where do you want to go in your state? You are delirious with fever and about to throw up again. You can't drive."

Isaiah swayed, the yank of Arnie's grip bringing him down to the floor again. He squeezed his eyes shut, bowing forward. "I shouldn't be here when I'm sick-"

"It's okay. I don't care about that. You can totally stay here, come on."

Isaiah opened his mouth to answer and a sick burp came up, ending with a gag.

Arnie took him by the arm with both hands to steer him over the toilet just in time for Isaiah to heave up a mouthful of puke.

His back jolted with a hiccup and he moaned. Arnie could see his stomach muscles falling inside as he heaved, a much thicker and stronger wave sputtering out.

"God," Isaiah groaned, another surge of vomit coming up. He barely had time to breathe.

"Okay, okay. Just breathe and let it out. It will over soon." Would it? He had never seen anyone throwing up so much.

Isaiah's head started to sink towards the rim so Arnie quickly put his palm in the way, helping him to lean back as he flushed the toilet, reminded of the terrible heat by the touch.

"We need to cool you down, your fever is too high." He got up to put one of the big towels into the sink and wet it with cold water.

He offered it to Isaiah who buried his face in the towel, while Arnie worked on the bottoms of his soiled shirt, finally wiggling Isaiah out of it. "There we go."

Isaiah let out a quite whine as Arnie pulled the shirt from one arm and then the other. He was swaying even sitting and propped up against the wall like that, panting for breath. "I'm so sorry." His eyes were glittering and the fever flush stood out against his skin like a sunburn.

"You don't need to apologize. You are sick, it's not your fault." Arnie balled the shirt up and threw it on the floor before taking the towel for himself. Isaiah couldn't even hold it to his face, hands limp and useless.

Arnie tapped the wet towel against his cheeks and chin, then forehead, before draping it around his back and neck. Let the cold seep through a little.

Isaiah shivered, hugging his arms around himself before suddenly pitching forward with a heave.

Barely making it over the toilet, he projectile vomited another thick wave. It came in quick violent bursts that jolted his whole frame.

"You are okay. You are going to be alright, just get it up," Arnie repeated, a ting of panic creeping into his voice. He bit down at his fingernails on his left forefinger, trying to shake the claustrophobic pressure on his chest away. There was also some at the back of his head, the kind of stressful strain that came before migraines.

"H-hey," Isaiah sput into the water, folding his arms over the rim to hold himself up. "You doing okay?" He sounded so tired, voice all scratchy from the bouts of puking.

"I'm fine," Arnie protested, shifitng closer so he could hide his face against Isaiah's sweaty back without any weight. "You are j-just so sick- I-I-" He cut himself off, corners of his mouth pushing downwards without his permission.

"It's going to be okay," Isaiah mumbled. He lied his head on his hands over the toilet, looking at Arnie from the side. "Gonna pass in- buuurp - a bit. Don't worry."

Arnie bit his lip, guilty that Isaiah was the one comforting him.

Isaiah gave him a weak smile, before wincing as another gag had him turning his head between his hands to vomit yet another gush of puke into the toilet. Like a source of endless liquid.

Arnie hated his eyes were burning and that Hector wasn't here and that he didn't notice sooner and that Isaiah didn't notice cause he always felt sick when coming to visit them- he bit back a sob forming in his throat.

"I'm gonna be right back," he promised, bolting out of the bathroom.

Some of the hot tears escaped down his cheeks, but he didn't pay them any mind. He grabbed his phone, dialing up Hector's number.

His second brother took it on the third ring. "Arnie, this better be an emergency or I swear-"

"Isaiah is sick," Arnie interjected in a tiny voice. "Like can't stop vomiting kind of sick. Please, come home?"

There was a stunned silence.

"I'm on my way."

[voxxisms]

@staticintone is working with the vee's for a day !! [ cont. ]

     TWENTY - FOUR  HOURS  WAS  PLENTY.  it would be no small feat trying to show his work in a way properly to alastor,  but he had him on his side for the time being.  it might not have been entirely willing,  but he also at least hadn't been the one to issue the command.  just the one asking him to be nice.  he  ...   could pretend.  he could pretend it would all be nice  &&  dandy later,  too.  for now,  he could just appreciate having his presence in a place that he'd always hoped to have him.

        ❛  well,  there's a pretty robust schedule we can slot you into,  but i figure it might be best to just keep you with me rather than making you head off on your own.  the whole place can be a little bit of a maze,  if you don't wander around much to learn it.  so i got an extra desk set up around my office.  ❜

he led them both to the elevator,  pressing the button to take them up to it.  it was a quick ride,  &&  already vox was being bombarded when he reached the floor.

❛  vox,  sir,  the client for sixty - eight wants to ask you about the budget.  ❜

        ❛  tell them to check in on my availability with the receptionist.  ❜

❛  there's been a malfunction with channel six,  the tech agents aren't there right now,  who should we send?  ❜

        ❛  pull one of the interns from the basement,  &&  the lead from channel five,  i know they're on break,  tell them they'll get an early leave if they handle it within thirty minutes,  &&  i'll approve that saturday off they wanted.  ❜

❛  vox,  the newest client is demanding to speak to you now,  on the phone.  ❜

     vox sighed heavily,  pausing in his beeline for the office door.  so close.  he took the phone from the worker,  put on a bright smile  &&  voice smoothing over the clear irritation.  his hold on the frequency was less than it usually was,  given their recent talks,  so it did echo the true feelings fairly obviously.

        ❛  laurence,  hello,  you snagged me!  what can i do for you?  ...  no,  no,  that isn't going to be possible,  you know the schedule of that set location better than i do.  no,  no,  there is nothing i can do to change their mind,  i already did my best to.  ❜    the answer seemed to displease him,  &&  the shouting was easy to hear outside of the phone,  too.    ❛  look,  how about this?  i will move a few things around,  snag us an extra week there instead of longer hours in the day.  i know very well how to simulate the look you want,  i know it isn't perfect,  but it also wasn't originally in your package,  &&  since they're being so stubborn,  i'll toss it in with minimal upcharge.  yes,  exactly.  i'm glad we can reach a compromise,  thank you.  i will see you next week,  then.  ❜    he dropped the phone,  now ended with the call,  into the waiting hands of his worker,  who quickly skittered away to do some other job.

        ❛  sorry about that.  where were we?  right,  i have desk space for you set aside.  ❜

he was finally able to open the door to his office,  his wall of monitors  &&  shark tanks illuminated by light as they entered.  there was already an extra desk set up here,  with plenty of space,  a decent chair,  several things to make his job easier. 

        ❛  you're welcome to pick  &&  choose what you prefer to do.  i have some meetings to attend,  if you'd like to tag along,  that would be fine,  otherwise there is quite a lot to manage on the day - to - day.  there's a stack there that essentially lists out options for you,  &&  whatever you need,  you only need to send a message here or to me  &&  it'll be taken care of.  ❜    he handed him a small phone,  nothing fancier than what one may have had in the early 2000s.  there was only one contact,  labeled assistant.

[wikiangela]

After reading you temptation Tuesday I need to know more about your buddie sims

omg anon I'm soooo happy you asked 😂 bc lately buddie and ts4 are my obsession lol - warning: this might get long haha

so, first of all, this is their house - Eddie's house - that took me like 5 hours fr, and I'm not good at building but I'm kinda happy with it ngl haha (his house is so inconsistent in the show fr, and he has a desk in the kitchen, and I never noticed the red armchair in the living room😂) - if anyone wants, I can show you each room in more detail haha

I also gave them a patio in the back, and a little garden for Buck bc I had just read a fic with Buck owning a plant nursery and it fits so well lol - and it's gonna get renovated a bit soon bc they're expecting a baby through surrogacy (btw pls give me names for a Buckley-Diaz baby haha)

and this is what they look like (I'm lowkey happy with how Buck and Chris turned out tho I'm so mad that the crutches cc I found isn't working, and I can't find good tattoos for Buck lol - but Eddie looks like any generic sim but whatever haha)

also, obvi they're both firefighters, Buck has adhd, Eddie might take up knitting just because, and Chris is doing amazing at school and is about to become a teen wtf haha (also, they're both his dads, like in the family tree, they were both his dads before they even got together bc I wanted to see if it's possible)

they also have a cat and Eddie will be a reluctant cat dad just like he was a reluctant dog dad in my fic haha

and idk if anyone cares, but the thing I said in the temptation tuesday wasn't even all that happened on that date, it was ridiculous, and I'll add this under the cut bc this is getting long lmao

so, for context: I have wicked whims and mortem (realistic death)

I scheduled their wedding for saturday at noon, but the day before it was love day, so I figured they'd go on a date to a restaurant - and in the sims it takes so fucking long lol

so they were waiting for their food and talking, and bc I have wicked whims and they're like obsessed with each other, even in my game lol, Buck kept autonomously asking Eddie for sex, sooo many times, and I kept clicking no, bc they can do it after they get home haha

but then after they were done eating and were ready to go home, I couldn't leave, bc someone died - now, I forgot I had the mortem mod, bc I just got it and hadn't used it yet, so I figured, the grim will come and it'll be over soon, and in the meantime I finally agreed to let them fuck (they went to the coatroom, with an archway instead of a door so they were perfectly visible, and Buck blew Eddie - btw, their first time was completely autonomous too and they did it in Eddie's closet wtf😂😂)

and then the dead lady was still on the floor, and I remembered about the mod, and I guess someone called the coroner and I had to wait for them to come - so Buck and Eddie joined all the people gathered around the body, and istg (i hate that I didn't get a screenshot lol) every single sim had a thought bubble with Buck's face and cum, bc he just blew Eddie and had cum on his face 😂

and after the coroner came and declared the death or whatever, she asked Buck of all people to take care of the funeral 😂😂 I said no, obvi, and soon they were able to go home and get married 😂

mods make the game sooo ridiculous lmao

I actually haven't played with buddie in a while, I need to get back to them haha

[waitinguntilnovember]

a non-romanticized day in the life of a jobless artist/writer high school student

12pm: around this time, I was able to wake up. I have very bad insomnia, which does not mix well with going to school at 8am, but thankfully yesterday was a Saturday, so I could sleep in.

12:30-1pm: I made myself a coffee with almond milk and plant-based creamer and no breakfast because I find it very hard to eat when I wake up. Because all of my mugs ran out (thanks, mom, for stealing my favorite one) I had to use a short glass cup. I have an easily sick stomach and I'm lactose intolerant but honestly, I still have cookies and milk at 3am when I'm writing. Screw my nausea.

1-7pm: I spend my daylight rotting in bed, doing god knows what. One minute I'm watching a nice cozy art vlog looking for inspiration and the next I'm upstairs making cereal as my only meal of the day and then going back into my cave. There will be short 5-minute intervals between where I'll take snacks or socialize with my family, but I always make it back to my room, stuck to my laptop. I might sneak in a quick one-line poem I thought of and frantically look for a pencil to write it in my notebook. I might think of a random idea for a book or painting. These hours are spent doing absolutely nothing but simultaneously everything at the same time.

7-11pm: painting is my #1 healthy outlet besides writing. I try to paint almost every free day I have to calm myself down when things get rough mentally. Yesterday, I painted a branch with flowers on a small canvas. It wasn't much, but I like it anyway. With insomnia, it's like everything is obscured or blurry, so having these things to keep me on track is very nice.

11pm-around 5:30ish am: at later hours, I write. I spent as much time as I possibly could writing. I find my mind is much more active, or creative, in this time period. Most of the time when I say I'm going to write, I end up editing and revising previous paragraphs. It's a habit I need to work on. What I'm working on right now is a short novel that is told through therapy sessions, where the main character is spiraling slowly with each chapter and has a very warped view of life. A lot of the experiences the main character has come from my own. I'm figuring out a few rough details but I have the plot completed as well as the precise timeline and writing technique I'm going for. If I do end up publishing this, I don't want to put spoilers on Tumblr, so don't expect much out of me relating to this subject.

About 6am: I finally start to feel tired after staring at my ceiling for about 20 or 30 minutes. It takes a bit longer to actually fall asleep after this.

Today, at around 12pm again: I woke up and did the same 12-1pm routine. After, I spent about 30 minutes rereading and only slightly editing my writing from the night before.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Everybody goes through hard points in their life where romanticizing can't make it better. Right now, I'm struggling a lot with my personal health and it's affecting my life and making my mental health so much worse. The passing of midterms this last week has been a great help with my gentle recovery this weekend, as I've finally been able to rest, but I still find even in my relaxed, comfortable state I manage to be stressed out.

And that's able to be dealt with.

I know that most people crumbled under their own pressure like I am with mine, and they made it out. I believe once the season changes and the school depression passes along, I can have my healthier version of this lifestyle back. I will be able to eat meals during the day and go out with my friends without coming home drained. But, unfortunately, all of this takes time.

Do not expect your change to come the moment you set your mind to it.

It's a gradual change. In your sleeping schedule, your moods, your eating habits, everything-- it can't be achieved in one day. If you want to see results, you will have to work and wait for them.

I know there will be moments when it gets even harder, and you feel like you almost need to be sad to feel something, but please trust me when I say that is not the answer. You can experience something other than that zombie-like blankness you feel every day.

Please realize it takes time to feel it, though. And do not give that up if you think it won't work.

.・。.・゜✭・.

Remember that my inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to. I'm a stranger over the internet, I'm faceless, I will tell nobody, not a soul. I promise you that you will always have someone to talk to after seeing this post. Do not think otherwise ever again.

[ttvnadeeta]

no stream tonight

no stream tonight. plan is to do a stream tomorrow and Monday. however i will say this before i forget,next week my fiance wants to try out a new schedule for us. so instead of Wednesday,Friday and Sunday. it's going to be Friday,Saturday and Sunday instead. he figures that way don't have to worry about work and stuff. now obviously if its a special occasion like one of our birthdays,or our dating anniversary or our twitch anniversary then obviously we can't control the day that falls under. this even goes for our original schedule as well. or we might do the special occasion early/late,like we did my birthday stream a day earlier as i wasn't able to be home til late the day of. plus its not gonna be permanent,basically he wants to see which is better and all that. even if we do stream tomorrow and Monday i don't think its gonna effect the new schedule he wants to try as there will be a 4 day gap between Monday and Friday.

but yeah,so in the meantime since no stream tonight u guys can check past VOD's,and/or look at my clips/highlights on my twitch page or look at the content i made on my other socials with my twitch clips/highlights in the meantime til i can stream.

well i hope u all enjoy the rest of ur evening and until next time <3 .

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

That moment when your workplace does something super illegal—

((note that words will not be great with grammar & may “sound childish” when reading. minimally verbal/semi non speaking autist here, & very stressed, & grammar will suffer for it. please don't comment on that. already feel awkward sharing despite knowing less coherent. please just block or scroll away if not okay for you. 🥺))

Context:

3/18 to 3/25 - W, Thurs, Fri, Sat, Sun scheduled. typical schedule 5 days a week.

~~~

last Friday (3/22):

workplace is too loud, too many overlapping sounds, very bad/overwhelming auditory sensory pains. meltdowns keep happening after work. exhausted & in burnout (prolonged sensory overload & exhaustion (doesn't go awake when I sleep), increased depression despite meds that otherwise work). realize this job won't be sustainable without adjustments/accommodations.

asked for reasonable accommodation to allow me to have 1 (one) earbud with quiet music while working, to combat sensory pain (Sensory Processing Disorder). that would allow me to actually process the safety announcements (knife, hot, behind you, etc.) so I work safer, and also makes me faster and more effective (less dissociation, better mood, etc.). would dampen auditory pains & make less overwhelming.

sent home because can't work without music (too overstimmed, in burnout & prolonged overstim), but manager on shift says “I wanna make sure I'm not discriminating against you” & escalated to their GM's manager, who called disability people to escalate to correct department. Correct™ legal process begins in compliance with ADA. no issues yet.

told not to work rest of weekend (Sat/Sun) because waiting to finish Correct™ process first. needs to be done first.

~~

Last Saturday (3/23):

“accommodations analyst”, their disability specialist, called to ask questions about what music helps with and how it impacts work, agreed this might be plausible as an accommodation & helps in positive ways, and sent an email with next steps. no issues with analyst.

GM texts (normal communication method) to say ‘there are some things we just can't accommodate, let's discuss alternatives’. doesn't know other manager already escalated to accommodations analyst. alert GM that I'm in this process and that they told me “do not work until this process is done, and I'll tell your manager not to schedule you”. insist that I want to finish process first & that if it's still a no we'll discuss alternatives.

mild issue that GM won't even consider it, but figure the accommodations analyst will nudge that this is important for legal ADA reasons & don't comment.

get schedule for next week (3/25 to 3/31). GM scheduled for 3 days (W, F, Sat) despite being told not to schedule at all. sigh and accept will have to call out. schedule is in typical schedule range (Wed through Sun, weekend Mon/Tues).

GM does not reply or acknowledge.

~~

this Monday (3/25):

talked to therapist about getting a letter for the accommodation analyst. therapist says they have to have me sign a disclosure form (expected), and that they have to get a supervisor to sign permission for them to write the letter. currently inbetween direct supervisors, so they have to find one of 4 or 5 other supervisors to sign, takes time.

update GM & accommodations analyst. GM does not reply or acknowledge.

~~

this Tuesday (3/26):

met with psychiatrist. asked for letter from them as well. letter received same day. no letter from therapist yet; still waiting for supervisor to sign off. update GM & accommodations analyst. GM does not reply or acknowledge.

~~

this Wednesday (3/27):

call from therapist. still waiting on supervisor to sign. they're hoping that supervisor they meet with Thursday (today, 3/28) will sign, but they're not sure. stuck in limbo. update GM & accommodations analyst.

call/text out from work because was told not to work until this is done, & wasn't even supposed to be scheduled. GM does not reply or acknowledge.

~~

today/Thursday (3/38):

physical letter from work, with new legal name, shows up. landlord leaves on my chair so I know he figured was me. anxiety attack because biofather can't know that name, because want to be no contact. hope beyond hope that landlord forgets.

text GM, ‘hey this address is not safe to send mail to, where can I update?’ GM finally responds, says to update online. attempt to log in to work account, doesn't log in (common problem). GM doesn't acknowledge previous texts about ADA & disability process.

receive schedule for next week (April 1 to 7). scheduled 2 days (Tues, Sun), & routine scheduled days broken (Wed through Sun, Mon/Tues off; scheduled only Tues & Sun). realize that since requesting accommodations, scheduled shifts dropped from 5 days a week to 3 days, and now down to 2 days, which means hours are being chopped back due to asking for accommodation and standing ground that I will investigate exception for music (which works) before seeking alternatives (which we investigated for 5+ years now and haven't found). realize this is retaliation, which is very illegal.

~~

~~

so.....I dunno what to do now other than panic. and ¿maybe tell L&I board?

~Nico

[globalrebrand]

I figured youre the best person to float this idea to: giving Vil a spa day and following up with a massage. Its nothing close to the finesse of a professional, but you can do something they cant. After rubbing his back and shoulders to ease some of his stress, he asks you to ride him. The past five hours youve been pampering him has got him feeling sleepy and affectionate. Maybe after you *slowly* get him off, no fast movements tonight, he would want to do some cockwarming. I imagine he would be very sweet and vulnerable, content to let you spoil him but also greedy for more. He will be clingy, pouting whenever you leave for something. And while he may want to be the one receiving praise tonight, he will absolutely return the favor another day

Warnings: fluff, not sfw, not proofread, fem-reader. (let me know if this needs to change!)

A/N: Vil is a hard dom, and you can't change my mind, so it might not be as soft as you wanted!

Private Massage: Vil x Fem!reader

When Vil built the massage room off of your master ensuite, you thought it was the height of excess. Of course, your husband worked tirelessly between acting, modeling, and managing his thriving beauty line, but an in-house room for massage? Frankly, you didn't understand why he couldn't just go to the spa. The chateau the two of you resided in was only thirty minutes from the city and some of the best spas in Twisted Wonderland.

But he insisted that it was a basic necessity of his routine care, so you didn't fight him on it. And in his defense, it got frequent use.

Every other Saturday, Vil's beloved masseuse, Helene, a well-muscled middle-aged woman with strong hands that were as soft as silk, massaged him for two hours. Never failing to relieve him of the week's stresses. It was an appointment as fastidiously kept as any date or arrangement he made with you.

For all the years she'd tended to him, you'd only known one occasion where she didn't meet the scheduled appointment, and that was when her beloved dog Gus needed to be rushed to the veterinarian after tearing his way into the gourmet chocolate gift basket Vil had sent her for her birthday.

But today makes the second occasion where the sacred appointment ritual has been broken.

And your husband wasn't taking it well.

Vil stood looking wistfully picturesque in his monogrammed quilted lilac silk robe as he stared longingly out of the french doors to the balcony of your master suite. A rather difficult task considering that snow had piled up outside nearly five feet overnight.

"Darling," you cooed, sneaking up behind him, the swishing sound of the silk of your matching (also monogrammed) robe rubbing against his startling from his gloomy reverie. Rising on your toes and placing a kiss and the sensitive patch of skin beneath his ear, you prepared to offer consolations.

"No one could make it in this blizzard, and to insist that Helene come would be barbaric."

"I know that." He snapped, to which you responded by drawing his face to yours to ensure he witnessed the reflexive and highly indignant raising of your eyebrows. Long ago, Vil learned that kind of curtness got him nowhere with you.

"I'm sorry, my love, it's just I was really looking forward to our appointment today. You know better than anyone how hard this past week has been on me."

It's true. Vil really had put himself through the gauntlet the past month. He just finished filming a slate of commercials and shooting print ads for a new line of designer sunglasses he was just hired to be the face of, on top of sitting through a host of meetings with potential investors for his cosmetic brand and even hosting the Fashion Awards in the capital of the Queendom or Roses just a few nights ago.

So after forcing himself through handfuls of business lunches, after parties, and after after parties. He was a ball of tension and exhaustion in reasonably dire need of a massage.

"Of course, I understand." You murmured into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him in an attempt to soothe his tension when the perfect solution dawned on you. Craning your neck to whisper in your husband's ear, you offered a solution.

"What if I gave you a massage instead?"

His rejection was immediate.

"That's thoughtful little one, but let's be honest. There's about a 90% chance you fuck up my back, so badly no masseuse will be able to work out the knots." Vil cooed as he moved from the window and out of your embrace, leaving you to pout by the windows alone. But you weren't deterred. Even if you weren't the best masseuse in the country, you had your own ways of making your husband relax.

"Oh, well, that's a shame…" You sighed, turning the take up the mantle by the windows your husband previously occupied.

"Darling, I wasn't trying to be insensitive, but Helene is a masseuse with 40 years of experience." Vil was clearly exasperated, annoyed by your pout since obviously you weren't qualified to work on his back. Whether you were his spouse or not didn't matter. It was just his pragmatism.

"I couldn't even change your mind if I did it in that new white lingerie set?" You spoke softly, coquettishly, offering him only a demure and questioning glance.

Your question, paired with your coy expression, quickly delivered the results you were after.

The change in his attitude was instantaneous. For the first time all afternoon, he perked up and turned away from the exit of your shared room.

"The sheer dotted set? With the ouvert panties?" He questioned as if to confirm you were both on the same page regarding the set in question.

"Mmhmm." You nodded nonchalantly.

"With the garters and lacy thigh highs?" He asked, his expression now entirely focused on you. "That's a silly question. After all-"

"What would be the point without them?" You both intoned in unison.

"It was my birthday set, and I just got it, so I was saving it for a special occasion, but what better occasion could there be than blessing my beloved husband with my first foray into massage."

He raised an eyebrow as if to wordlessly say, 'you're laying it on a bit thick, but from his anticipatory posture, you could tell he'd bought your little act.

"Hmm, fine, but I'll be giving critiques on your technique."

"You wouldn't be the man I married if you didn't." You chirped as you pulled the set out of the drawer and dashed into the bathroom to prepare, running past your husband with girlish glee.

A scant half an hour later and the mood was set. Aromatic candles were lit, lightly perfuming the space.

You dressed in the aforementioned set, with heels and light jewelry that wouldn't get in the way of your work. A pair of white gold hoop earrings and a dainty matching chain with a small V and amethyst on it.

You were watching some videos of proper full body massage techniques when the door to the room slid open, and in walked your husband, freshly showered with a towel loosely affixed around his hips. "Now, this sight is far more enchanting than my normal appointment," Vil remarked, seeing your ass in the scandalous panties. Your lush curves were put on display for him as you leaned over the cupboard while you watched videos on your phone.

"Helene would be crushed to hear you say that." You teased, still transfixed on the videos before you.

"That set makes your ass look fantastic," Vil added, placing a hand on the exposed fat of your rear.

You swatted his hand away. Not wanting him to spoil the session by completely forgoing the massage.

That's not why we're here, you remind him. Turning around and plucking the headphones from your ears, you put your phone away so you can focus on the task at hand.

You pressed on your husband's shoulders, gently urging him onto the massage table.

"I'm not here to rile you. I'm here to relax you." You reminded him. "Well, if you think you can. Do your best, my love." That was generally the closest to encouragement that Vil came, but you knew better than to take him at his word. He was obviously excited if the bulge of his half-hard cock beneath his towel was any indicator.

"Don't worry, I will. The channel drmasseur on spelltube taught me everything I need to know."

"On second thought-"

"Shhh..stop! Lay down. Don't be mean. I was only teasing." You chided. "On your front."

Begrudgingly, your husband obeyed.

Warming the basil and lemongrass lotion in your hands, you started with long strokes from his ankle to his knees, testing the amount of pressure.

"You can go a bit harder, my love."

Wordlessly you obeyed, applying more pressure again his long sinews and working into a comfortable rhythm. It wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be. After all, you were likely tied with his masseuse in knowledge of all of his sensitive areas, though your knowledge was of a much more explicit nature. After spending ample on his calf, you moved to do the same motion on his thigh, eliciting a groan as you pressed your thumbs into the back of his muscles.

"You're not as bad as I would've thought," Vil noted and slightly impressed air to his voice. He was quick to add-

"Nowhere near as good as Helene, might I add, but this has been pleasurable."

"And I do so seek to please you, husband." You whispered sultrily.

Vil hummed contentedly at your words and fell back into silence.

The better part of an hour passed, and you moved on from his legs to his arms, diligently repeating the same strokes as you did on his legs before and finally reaching his shoulders and back.

You were pleased with how well this little experiment was going. Vil seemed reasonably relaxed.

He threw out a critique here and there, but for the most part, he seemed content with your work.

Climbing on the table, you straddled his pert and bare upturned ass to get better leverage as you worked on his back.

"I know drmasseur didn't instruct you to do this."

"Perhaps not in his normal videos, but I was watching one to teach the art of erotic massage." You whispered in his ear before pressing a dramatic kiss to his temple.

Settling your weight fully on his rear, you both gasped as the wetness that had seeped through the opening of your panties made itself apparent through the skin-to-skin contact.

Your husband groaned but otherwise said nothing.

You quickly got into a deliberate routine, working on his lower back and subtly grinding against him with each fluid stroke of your hands in an attempt to soothe a bit of your own arousal. It shouldn't have come as a surprise just how quickly grinding your clit against your husband's skin.

But midway through your work, your husband stopped you.

"It's time for you to work on my front."

“But I haven't even gotten to-.”

He tapped your thigh to urge you off of him and then turned on his back, revealing the massive erection he was sporting.

Before you could even speak, he lifted a finger to silence you.

"I presume you know what you need to do."

"Of course, my love." You cooed, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. But Vil was apparently much more desperate than he let on as he was quick to rake his fingers through your hair to deepen the kiss. His tongue sensuously probing for yours. He releases you, panting slightly, and quickly offers his following command.

"Get to work."

Wait- He stops you before you can climb atop the massage table.

He brings a hand to your sex, testing your wetness with lithe fingers.

"Sevens, you're so shameless. You're more than wet enough to take me." He remarks, a certain pride to his words.

"How could I not when my husband is so beautiful." You always give Vil the validation he wants. The way it makes him preen and stand even straighter never fails to put a smile on your face.

Vil offers a hand to help stabilize you as you straddle him, your knees pressing into the soft leather of the table's surface.

You waste no time lining yourself up and sinking down on his cock in a practiced motion. The both of you moan in harmony at the sensation despite having felt it hundreds (if not thousands of times before).

Your walls seize around his length instinctively as they flutter in an ever-desperate attempt to accommodate his girth.

"You're so beautiful, Vil." coos, affectionately stroking your cheek. You close your eyes, relishing in the softness of his touch. Your sessions with Vil were only on occasion this tender.

"I hate it when people ask you how you got so lucky. Those fools don't realize just how lucky I am to have you." Vil is addressing you with his sweet words, but you are far too lost in taking him to the base of his shaft with every cant of your hips. His cock was deliciously curved towards the most sensitive parts inside of you, and you always to your time when riding him.

"My precious little wife takes such good care of me." He smiles teasingly. His finger came up to toy with a nipple concealed by the mesh of the lingerie.

"Are you paying attention to me?? He begins to scold. Clearly, you looked a little too lost in your own pleasure and not nearly admiring enough of the praises he lavished on you.

"Of course, I agree, Vil. You are lucky to have me." You open your eyes just to catch his feigned, annoyed expression.

"Come here." He demands but doesn't actually wait for your compliance.

Vil pulls the sheer cups of your lingerie under your breasts to expose your pert nipples and tugs you forward by the band, quickly taking one hardened bud between his lips and sucking tenderly as you rock back against him.

His other hand snakes down your spine before settling between your cheeks to press against your ass. You hiss at the strangely pleasurable sensation. The gesture is a small hint of Vil's sadism peaking through a more tame lovemaking session.

And as much as it turned you on, the relative taboo of the touch always sent you hurdling to orgasm in a matter of seconds.

Tentatively you tried to rise up and shoo away his hand, not wanting things to end too soon, but Vil wasn't having it. Unlatching from where he nibbled and teased your breasts, he grabbed your hair and pulled you in for a steamy kiss, but still, you turned, only allowing his lips to brush your cheek.

"No, I don't want to come too fast," you whined, slowing your motions and trying to evade your husband's persistent fingers.

"My foolish love," he simpered, his soft expression and tone encouraging you to drop your defenses and lean into his embrace. "even when you're on top of me, I call the shots." He whispered into your ear.

"Now, grind your tight little ass against my fingers while you ride my cock, understood?"

"I wanted to come at the same time." You pouted, looking into his hazy purple eyes.

"Keep riding me like that, and we will, don't worry, little one. Even I have to admit you're too tempting for your own good." You realized early in your relationship that for someone like Vil, being in control and curating his experience was cathartic. He seldom wanted anyone else calling the shot. The uncertainty made him anxious.

With his compliment, you found a small burst of motivation. Soon you got lost in the sensation of his wet fingers tracing circles on your puckered hole as you clenched against his shaft. And you realized if you bucked your hips just so your clit scraped against his toned abdomen.

Once you felt yourself hurdling off the cliff to your orgasm, you pressed as deep against your husband, feeling his tip threatening to breech your womb. Vil threw his head back as he let out a heady moan, and you, quite satisfied with your work, collapsed on top of him once your walls finally calmed, your sex feeling numb and well pleasured.

If not to relieve him of the burden of your sweat body, then to clean your both. You could feel his cum threatening to leak from your pussy, but when you moved to get off him, Vil held you firmly in place by your thighs.

"No, my love, keep me warm." He begged softly. You were never one to deny him, so with a sigh, you nestled back on top of him, tucking your head under his chin.

You two stayed silent for a good while when suddenly, a cheeky idea struck you.

"While I have you here," you began, your voice lifting Vil from his contented quiet. "Would you mind filling out a short survey about my performance today? The feedback really helps."

Fine." Vil acquiesces, opting in to play your little game.

"Rate the massage on a scale of poor to exceptional."

"It was adequate."

"Ok, rude. What could have improved your experience."

"The masseuse could have been less of a cocktease."

You tap his shoulder in chastisement. "One, you loved it, and two, that was the point."

"Oh, alright, the masseuse's lack of experience was apparent. But she more than made up for her lack of massage skill in other areas."

"Anyway, next question. Rate the sex on a scale of poor to exceptional."

"Absolutely incandescently perfect," Vil whispered as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Thank you for your feedback." You replied, turning to plant a chaste kiss on his brow.

"And final question,"

"It better be." Vil sighed in exasperation.

"Would you recommend this service to friends and family?"

Vil immediately bristled, shooting up to a sitting position, causing you to let out a quiet hiss as he moved inside you, but he seemed less bothered and more intent on addressing your question.

"Absolutely not! First of all, gross. Second of all, you're all mine."

"I know, I know, I'm just teasing. I never get tired of hearing you say it."

"Now say it back." He demanded petulantly.

"I'm all yours Vil Schoenheit."

"Good, I wouldn't have it any other way."

[theeslytherinslut]

A Shit Tutor (4/?)

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader, Draco Malfoy x slytherin!reader 

Word Count: 1,581 

Warnings: language, none

A/N: sorry for the hiatus guys! Some of you guys now but I’m in college and nearing the end of the semester so the workload is getting more intense. And on top of that I’m working on writing an actual book lol. So a lot going on rn but I’ll try to work out a more regular posting schedule. Anyway, thanks for reading!!!

~Masterlist~

“Up! Up! Up!” your alarm clock chirped, excited to fulfill its role. 

“Alright,” you moaned into your pillow, turning onto your side. 

“Did you hear me? It’s time to get up!” it chirped once more. 

“I heard you! I’ll be up in a minute,” you whined, eyes still heavy with sleep. 

“The first to rise is always most wise!” it sang; your mother thought the clock was quite funny, especially knowing how grumpy you were in the mornings.  

“Fucking fine! I’m up! You obnoxiously cheerful sodding clock,” you grumped, rolling out of your bed. 

“Always such a pleasure,” the clock quipped back before the gears resembling eyes slid closed once more. 

“I was just about to wake you myself,” Jal said, poking her head around the corner, grinning at you as she braided her hair back. You merely grunted in response, attempting to rub the sleep from your eyes. “You always were a graceful riser.”

Shooting her a glare, she grinned and disappeared back into her section of the room. Yawning, you pulled a brush through your hair and clipped it up and out of your face, dawning your uniform for the day. Just as you were finished tying your tie, Jal called out to you. 

“C’mon, we’ve already missed breakfast. I’m not being late to McGonagall for you,” she warned. Realizing she was right, you cursed under your breath and slung your bag onto your shoulder, jogging after Jal. 

The morning had been hell, you’d forgotten your report for McGonagall in your dorms, and even though it was done, the witch had taken 5 points for not having with you. In Ancient Runes, you’d been half asleep when Professor Babbling called on you--you gave the wrong answer. Jal’s snickers all throughout were of no help to your mood, and by lunch, you were positively bitchy. 

“Sweet Salazar, someone’s got their knickers in a bunch this morning, haven’t they?” Jal said, looking amused at your grumpy face. 

“It would help if you weren’t so goddamn giggly. Old McGonagall takes 5 points, and it’s somehow funny to you,” you pouted, lowering your eyes at her as the two of you stepped into the Great Hall. As you walked past the Gryffindor table, you could’ve sworn you heard the gangly redhead say your name, but when you turned to throw daggers, the bushy-haired girl that was always with them quickly hushed him up so you couldn’t be sure. 

“If you weren’t the one getting points taken, you wouldn’t be so bitchy,” Jal sighed as you glared at the three. Harry looked up and started at the malice in your face, but the girl with them snapped her fingers and called his attention once more. 

“Yeah, well, it was me, wasn’t it?” you grumped as the two of you came to the Slytherin table; just as you were about to slide onto the bench, you heard your name. 

“Y/N!” a nearby voice called. Shocked, you looked to find a pale hand waving you up the table. Looking over at Jal, she wore the look you imagined was on your face as well and shrugged. 

“Go on,” she said after a moment, waving you on. 

“Y/N!” the voice called again. 

“Go!” she called again, waving her hands at you as she moved to sit. 

“Come with me!” you called, suddenly intensely nervous. 

“What?” she said, suddenly looking scared. 

“Come on!” you hissed, grasping her wrist tightly and dragging her along with you. She resisted for a minute, but as the two of you got closer, she recovered and walked with you. 

“Yes?” you said, stopping in front of Draco as he smirked at you. Turning around in his seat across from Draco, you felt Jal stiffen as Blaise’s eyes traveled along her figure. 

“Jaltrece, right?” he smirked, his voice like butter. Looking at him now, you could definitely see the appeal. His jaw was simply unforgiving and the muscles tensed as he looked at Jal; she seemed to have lost her voice. His dark eyes were alight with amusement at her awkwardness, and it was a moment before you could pull your eyes from him. As fair as Blaise was dark, sitting across from him was Draco, grinning at you in amusement as well. 

“Jal,” she choked out after an awkward pause. Clearing her throat, she spoke again. “It’s Jal.” 

“Jal,” he repeated, and you could have sworn you saw her knees tremble a bit. “Care to sit?” 

Words failing her, she nodded dumbly and slid into the spot next to him. Gesturing with his own arm, Draco beckoned you to the other side of the table. Walking around it, you smiled sheepishly and slid into the spot next to him. 

“Thought we might sit together. How’s your morning?” he asked as he buttered a biscuit. 

“Pretty shit, honestly. Forgot my Transfiguration report, so McGonagall took 5 points, then I gave the wrong answer in Ancient Runes, not to mention the bloody staircase changed on the way here, so I got lost for a bit,” you sighed. 

“I’ll never understand why they made the sodding staircases change--as if the castle wasn't confusing enough,” he agreed, shaking his head. “Father says it was Rowena Ravenclaw who insisted on it; I thought the Ravenclaws were supposed to be intelligent.” 

“Nothing says intelligence like unnecessarily enchanting the staircases in an utterly massive castle to get you lost,” you sighed, filling your plate. He laughed lightly, and you snuck a look at him as he did so; his true smiles were so rare. “Besides, have you seen that one Ravenclaw?” 

“Which one?” he asked, grinning. 

“The airhead; the one who wears bloody radishes for jewelry,” you laughed.

“The one who follows after Potter and his followers like a bloody puppy dog? Loony?” he asked, looking annoyed as he spoke of Harry. 

“Loony?” you laughed.

“You haven’t heard her nickname? I thought everyone had,” he laughed back, lifting his goblet to his lips. 

“Evidently not. Nobody tells me anything--that’s incredible, Loony, ha!” you laughed again. Draco smiled at you and seemed to study your face. Feeling slightly uncomfortable at his intense attention, you let your Y/C/H hair curtain over your face. 

“So, were you planning on a Hogsmeade trip this weekend? It’s the first of the year,” he asked conversationally. 

“Probably. Jal here is a sugar addict; she never misses a Honeydukes trip,” you teased. She scowled darkly at you. 

“Blaise keeps a stash of pepper imps underneath his bed; he isn’t the only sugar addict,” Draco said, grinning as well at his friend. 

“Careful, Malfoy. I think what you keep hidden under your bed is a bit more interesting,” Blaise said darkly. Obviously, your interest was piqued. Looking at Draco, you found his features paler than normal and started a bit at the intensity in his glare. Nobody glared like a Malfoy glared. 

“Touche, Zabini,” he muttered darkly, his smugness leaking back into his face as he noticed you watching. “Fancy a partner?” 

“Sorry?” you asked, almost choking on your chip. 

“To Hogsmeade? How would you fancy accompanying me?” Draco asked, turning on his charm as he smirked at you. Dazed, you felt your heart rate pick up in your chest. 

“Er, yeah. Yes, I, uh, I suppose that would be alright,” you said, trying to sound appeasingly nonchalant. Looking up, you saw Jal smirking and knew you failed. 

“Excellent, I’ll meet you in the courtyard after breakfast on Saturday?” he smiled. 

“It’s a date,” you smiled back, but then your insides turned ice cold. “Shit, er, didn’t mean it like that. Was just trying to be funny.” 

Your face was positively burning hot; it seemed it had leeched all of the blood from your body. Cursing yourself internally, you bit the inside of your cheek and hoped to Godric he’d let it go.

“It’s a date,” he repeated and delivered a swift kiss to your cheek. Shocked, you actually choked on the chip headed down your throat this time. Coughing violently, you were all too aware of the eyes now watching you. Despite all your coughing, your body couldn’t seem to dislodge the piece of food, and breathing was impossible; though, if you were to die right there, you didn’t think you'd mind too much. I mean, here you were actually choking to death because Draco Malfoy had asked you on a date and gave your cheek a kiss. 

“Apapneo,” you heard suddenly. Surprised, but cherishing the air now flowing to your lungs, you gave a grateful smile to your savior. 

“Try to chew next time, yes?” 

To your utter annoyance, Snape was the one who happened to be passing by to get to the staff table at the time of your choking. 

“Right, thank you, Professor,” you forced through grit teeth. Without another word, Snape began making his way up once more. 

“You are the only Slytherin I’ve ever met that Snape actively dislikes,” Blaise said after a moment. 

“You’re telling me!” you sighed exasperatedly. “All because I’m not too good at Potions,” 

The three of them gave you a look, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Alright, alright. I’m rubbish, I know, thank you,” you said, offering them your favorite finger. And because why wouldn’t you be, you were caught. 

“Ms. Y/L/N!” you heard. Closing your eyes, you let out a deep breath; it was simply not your day. “Another 5 from Slytherin,” McGonagall quipped. 

“I am on a roll today,” you sighed. If you didn’t start finding humor in the events of the day, someone was going to be dead by sunrise. 

[adamfoolcry]

of coffees and holidays (d.sc)

pairings: Ballerina!Sicheng x CafeOwner!FemReader

rating: 13+

warnings: swearing

genre: angst and fluff

synopsis: Your and Sicheng's love story in five coffees with varying degrees of sweetness spanning five Christmases.

word count: 3k+

a/n: for @127-mile, I hope I did justice for your prompt. Hope you enjoy reading it. Happy Holidays! 🎅 Thank you to @neoculturechristmas for organizing such fun event. It can be read in chronological order if y'all wanted to. I promise it's a happy ending. Not proofread so please excuse the mistakes, I am so dumb. Please reach out to me if you would like to do so. - xo aria

Christmas 2019 - Espresso

Outside as flakes of snow fell from the sky, like a light shower of glitter from the heavens, the elusive holiday spirit seemingly present in the air; you watched a young couple huddled together to share warmth, fingers intertwined, cheeks glowing red partnered with coy smiles on their faces, and a family of three in admiration of their son as he showed off his Christmas gift. The streetlights emitting an orange glow providing an aura of softness, making everything come together to form a picturesque scene.

Heartwarming as these scenes were, they failed to evoke any emotion out of you; if anything you feel excluded from it entirely. To you the world behind the cafe's glass windows is just a film you're screening in the cinemas, and you were nothing but a mere spectator. You continue to stare listlessly at the throngs of people passing by until they all mesh into a blur of colors your eyes couldn't catch fast enough. That's better.

Inside the cafe although decorated with trinkets for the holidays there was an air of sadness permeating every corner and seated itself onto the furnishings. Lately it seems like sadness is following you around everywhere - like a shadow - and instead of trailing behind you it looms over you shrouding your every thought until it completely consumes you.

No one stepped foot inside the cafe and with no one to entertain your mind drifts to him. Sicheng.

How many days has it been? Since you last saw him. You've lost count, a lie you tell yourself to make the dull ache in your chest bearable. 

It's a torture how you could recall that day - the day you lost him - so vividly as if you are forced to relive it every time the silence eats away at your resolve; to tuck the moment into the deep recesses of your mind, where it can't hurt you. When every little thing reminds you of him, his favorite spot at the cafe, black turtlenecks and that undeleted grainy picture of his sitting in your gallery. 

You could never forget the look on his face, resignation etched into every crevice of his features, a forlorn smile on his lips. 

"I see," he said in a bittersweet tone before he turned his back at you. 

The slam of the door is the nail that hits the coffin. Sicheng is gone. He has already walked out of your life. That was the last you saw of him for he never visited the cafe again.

A month passed by when Sicheng called you. Your heart leaped as his name flashed on your screen and your thumb shakily pressed the answer button; afterwards lifting it near your ear.

There was no greeting as he uttered in his low voice that you have missed so much, "My flight to Russia is this Saturday." 

Your heart sank.

"I want you to see me off, ______." 

Don't go please stay with me but there are certain thoughts that weren't meant to be put into words so instead, "I'll be there." You reassured him.

But you never showed up at the airport that Saturday. Instead, you were at the cafe staring at the screen of your phone blinking on and off as a wave of notifications with his name flooded your phone. Why make things harder? As if him leaving wasn't hard enough. You pressed the power button long enough to shut down your phone.

The following days passed away into months that's a haze in your mind. You can't recall anything worth remembering. You quickly filled up your schedule with mundane tasks just to have something to do filling every gap of your vacant time. 

At night you fell straight to bed, your body collapsing from the physical strain you have subjected it with. Establishing a packed routine without idle time so you don't have time to linger on the dull ache in your chest - always there like a festering wound. This works until you find your list of chores unexpectedly accomplished earlier than you planned, the cafe shrouded in still quietness. 

Alone with nothing else to do the dull ache amplified to a crippling one and it bites you right back in your face, forcing you to acknowledge the hollow feeling that seems to reside in your chest permanently. Your eyes would be heavier, your vision blurry, trying to blink away the tears but ultimately failing as it trails down your cheeks; you clutch at your chest because it hurts and you regret that the last you'll see of Sicheng is that face of hurt he wore.

Christmas 2016 - Vanilla Latte

You placed the cup of vanilla latte sitting on a saucer on the table daintily, pushing the saucer across the wooden table towards the customer, avoiding to make any noise. The customer seemed so engrossed with the novel he is reading - nose almost touching the pages - that you don't want to disturb him. 

The said customer is a regular, there was not a month that he hasn't visited the cafe. Showing up five minutes after you flip the signage to open, with no fail not even a minute late. 

Wearing all black from head to toe, a tall lithe figure, and an androgynous facial structure, your guess is that he works as a model. Even now without trying he is captivating; he makes the cafe look like a set for a magazine spread just by lounging in the matching cherry wood table and chair, and you can't help but stand there and shamelessly stare at him. god really has his favorites.

His work must require him to travel to different countries and have photoshoots in scenic spots, oh how you wish you could also jetset to other countries. Packed schedule for the day that he doesn't have time to think about what he is going to do next. That is a luxury you don't have especially in the ber months for there is a decline in customers and with no one to entertain, your mind goes on an overdrive pondering on uncharted waters of how you have nothing else going for you but run this cafe.

Aside from his penchant to wear all black, read a novel while drinking his choice of beverage - choice of beverage you ask? - you see the other peculiar thing about this man is that he doesn't have a 'regular drink'. Most if not all people who go to a cafe know what they are going to order before they have set foot inside. This man doesn't, his eyes would flit on the menu, scanning from left to right and back again. It is almost ritual like, this would go on for a good minute or two as you drum your fingers on the counter waiting for his order. 

The snow is falling outside covering the otherwise grey pavement white, decorations for the festivities hung around the four corners of your quaint cafe. Yet here he is, nursing a cup of coffee instead of being somewhere else. Doesn't he have a family? to celebrate Christmas with?

"Can I help you?" The man said, turning his face slightly in your direction not quite yet abandoning the book in his hand.

"Ohh uhmm-" you were jolted out of your trance, startled you took a sidestep only to collide with the chair where a large unzipped duffel bag was placed. The contents of the bag spilled over. 

"Shit! I am sorry." You quickly knelt to the ground to pick up the scattered items on the floor, the man joined you. Charger, earphones, epsom salt, bandage, and tiger balm ointment as you picked up the items you also increasingly grew baffled. What a weird assortment of things. You reached for the item that somehow managed to get under the table and as your fingers came in contact with the rough material of the cloth you learned that your assumption of his job was wrong. A man's canvas ballet shoes.

I thought he was a model.

"What?" The man questioned. You wince to yourself you just didn't say that out loud. You emerge from under the table to find that the man was looking at you too intently for your liking. His eyes sought out yours waiting for an explanation and as if you owe him one you started explaining yourself. 

"Well, you are tall and extremely handsome so .." Cringing as the words flew out of your mouth. The man chuckled at your confession, a tell tale sign of a smile on the corner of his lips.

"I am flattered really but as you can deduct by now I actually do ballet." He rose to his feet and offered you his hand to help you stand up. 

Unlike other days where he will leave the cafe after an hour or two, this time he stayed and unlike other days where you find yourself alone in the cafe; you find yourself enjoying the company of this mysterious man. 

Where you quickly learned that all your presumptions about him have little truth in it. You learned that his name is Sicheng, and he is a principal dancer for the Korean National Ballet company not a model although with his looks he might as well be one. Yes, he travels but mostly for tours and performances. He practices an average of eight hours a day. 

Your fascination for his life spurred the conversation as if you were friends catching up with each other. With the book set aside and the contents of the cup long empty you two didn't notice how much time had passed. He bid you goodbye with a promise to visit you again tomorrow. As you watch his retreating figure getting smaller, the snow piling on top of each other over the glass windows of the cafe there was a smile on your lips - the warmth of a newfound friendship is akin to a good cup of coffee - making you warm from the inside out.

Christmas 2017 - Cappuccino

"Surprise me," Sicheng said leaning on his hip at the counter, arms crossed on his chest, when you asked him what he would like to drink. Standing there he looked like the culmination of your dreams.

Maybe it's the iridescent lights from the numerous christmas lights that flickered on his face making him look more exquisite or the grin he gave you after. You did surprise him but not in the way he was expecting and to be honest you are also shocked by your sudden brazenness as you lean in to kiss his plush lips. The kiss didn't last long, a little more than a peck but long enough for you to regret it.

"I .. I am sorry," you stammered burying your heating up face in your hands, embarrassed. You didn't even see Sicheng's reaction, was he appalled? You peeked through your fingers to find out, when Sicheng started laughing, tipping his head back a little, eyes crinkled in mirth, his right hand covering the half of his handsome face. 

You want nothing more than to shrivel up in one corner. He started tugging at your wrists, pulling your hands away from your burning face.

"Mind giving me more of that surprise?" The corner of his lips curved upwards, nose slightly crinkled, and you wished to etch his face to memory.

Christmas 2018 - Americano

He was late, you glanced at the clock hanging on the wall, it is now 11 P.M. and soon Christmas will be over. 

The americano you have prepared already cold, his untouched while yours halfway finished. It's fine though because you know that this will be the first of the many Christmases you have to spend without Sicheng. You must get used to spending it alone again. 

Musing to yourself your mind quickly took a trip down the memory lane of his last visit to the cafe before he got on tour with the company for one of the holiday stage productions. 

--------

You have only heard the thud of the door as it closed on its hinges. You are currently cleaning the countertop back bowed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you meticulously scrubbed at the stubborn grease that won’t budge, lifting your head to do the customary greeting, when something or rather someone barreled straight to where you are, engulfing you in a tight hug that shoved you headfirst into that someone’s chest your nose burrowed deeply into the black cloth. 

Recognizing the intoxicating scent of light musk and citrus, relief flooded you as you hugged Sicheng back. You don't know how long the two of you stayed in that position basking yourself with his warmth just a little longer.

He's real, he's here a safe and solid presence by your side. You can count by one hand the things that have endured with you throughout the years, other than the cafe which you have run since your mother got sick, dropping out of college to keep it going. And one of those is Sicheng you've found in him stability and comfort your past partners can't give you.

Sicheng pulled away putting some distance between the two of you, his arms naturally falling at his sides. He was wearing one of his brightest smiles, the apple of his cheeks high and pronounced on his face.

"_______, I've been offered the position of principal dancer at Bolshoi Ballet in Russia," He can't help but smile again clearly enthusiastic with the prospect of joining one of the most prestigious ballet companies.

It took you a moment to answer settling with an unconvincing, "Wow." You don't know how to react with his news, but you feel dread in the pit of your stomach. You don't like the idea of him leaving. You try not to let it show in your face.

"I know. I was also surprised." As if sensing the change in your demeanor he asked concerned, "Is something wrong, ______?" 

"Nothing let me whip you a drink I found from the net," you brushed him off with a wave of your hand. 

----------

"Hey _______, I am sorry there was some minor traffic that held us back," Sicheng announced his entrance that broke your reverie. Setting his duffel bag on the floor to sit on the opposite chair facing you.

His hair tousled, cheeks rosy and nose red but despite his healthy complexion you can also see the pronounced bags under his eyes with a tinge of violet. He looks tired and in dire need of rest. Yet he headed straight to the cafe instead of his apartment. 

"Sicheng I've wanted to tell you something," perching your arms on the table to fiddle with the ear of the cup.

"Yeah?" Sicheng asked, staring right at you.

"I think," you cast your eyes down on the table, and with a small voice continued, "we should break up." 

"You think?" 

"I mean we should"

"Why?"

"I ... it's just that it will be easier for you." Your hands started gesticulating in the air.

"Don't give me that bull shit. You are not the judge of that," Sicheng replied in a cold manner.

"It's just you have this life before me and you'll also have a life after me." Your voice cracked, and you gathered your strength to look at him. "I am grateful that you have been a part of my life. You are crazy talented and right now the world opens up in front you and you deserve better. I can't give you that I ..-," clutching at your chest, "I am just me."

"It's nice to know that you think of me as some temporary phase in your life and here I am fool enough to think that maybe you'll want to come with me to Russia," a cruel laugh slipped from his lips, "christ, I can't even choose what coffee I'll be having and finally for once in my life I've never been so sure of anything," voice trailing, "but us.

"So I'll still ask because I know I will regret it, if I don't. Do you want to come with me?" Sicheng pierced you with his eyes, wearing his heart out on a sleeve. Leaving himself unguarded and hoping you'll come through.

But you have never been brave. "I'll stay and you go."

"I see," he said in a bittersweet tone before he turned his back at you. 

Christmas 2020 - White Chocolate Mocha

"I told you Renjun you don't have to do your shift at Christmas." You look up to reprimand Renjun, and instead are met with familiar feline eyes that seem to see right through you. There stood Sicheng looking like an intricate piece of art displayed in the museums. It is more painful to look at him than anybody warned it would be. It hurts how familiar you are with him still dressed in black - turtleneck and slacks, his trusty duffel bag hanging on one shoulder, he's still the same but now you are nothing more than a past fling to him.

"Hey," Sicheng walked towards the counter greeting you.

"Hey," you shake your head from the trance that took over you, "Oh I'll make you something."

"I'll have a white chocolate mocha." Slightly surprised by his request it took you a second to start preparing it.

"When did you come back?" You inquired as you moved about to prepare his drink.

"Yesterday night" 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Would you have fetched me?" He asked nonchalantly.

You momentarily stiffen evading to answer the question you throw another at him, "How are you? Is Russia treating you well?"

"Can we cut the crap out? As much as I love dancing, I don't like dancing around in circles. I've come back for one reason only." 

"Will you come with me to London?"

Looking at Sicheng standing there - after how much you have hurt him - you thought you will never see him again and you have long accepted that punishment. You are not brave and you will never be but

"Yes, I'd love to go with you."

what you have with him is worth it.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist

[working-in-weird-ways]

Happy one week anniversary to this studyblr! It has been a successful, yet very intense week. I definitely managed to structure my daily life better which led to a) more time off (yay!) and b) an all-around more satisfied feeling during work and non-work. (While I write this, I recognize that dividing my life into work and non-work might be a bit problematic, but that's a problem for another day.)

Time table of the past week

Why draw a table, you ask? Well, I already stated that I love lists and the alphabetical order, so is anyone really surprised to hear that I also love tables and visualizing data? Anyway, I totally worked around 40.5 hours which itself is quite an acceptable number. But now I need to balance it a little better. This week Wednesday through Friday were a lot work-heavier then the previous three days. I will try to even that out a bit but since those are my days when I work at uni / school there will always be an imbalance.

What worked well this week

Scheduling: I am very proud that I was able to follow my own schedule. I am notoriously bad at following directions (especially my own) so actually starting to work when I planned to or getting up in the morning when the first alarm rang is a big accomplishment for me.

End of work time: It wasn't possible to end Thursday's work-day earlier due to my last task being a group meeting but aside from that, I think I did well when it comes to ending the work-part of the day at a reasonable time.

Setting tasks: I got my important tasks done the day I planned them! Which is a big thing for me since I normally have to reschedule my tasks about 23 times until I finally do them the very last moment. But I had all my readings done two days before classes, prepared my meetings at least 6 hours before the meeting time, and didn't have to reschedule any of the big important tasks! I really like this three-important-tasks-a-day system. It helps me focusing on the important tasks and not get lost in random other things (even though I do love random other things).

What I still want to work on

Work intensity: I know I can be very efficient when I actually manage to focus, so I am able to get a lot of work done in a short amount of time. BUT I need to remind myself that just because I can doesn't mean I should fit 10 hours of work into 7 hours. Intense work means needing time to regenerate - not more time to do more work.

Non-work time: I need to figure out how I need to work so that I am not completely exhausted afterwards (I should probably read the above paragraph again) because there are a lot of non-work activities that I love but haven't got the energy for (like music) and I want to figure out how I can balance my energy levels better between work and non-work.

Overall I think I did very well this week. Is it ideal? No, absolutely not, there are still major points that I need to work on. But in comparison to before it's a huge improvement and that's what I am focusing on.

I will now go and spend my free Saturday with not-working. Have a nice weekend and see read you tomorrow! Love, Anka

[faofinn]

No. 29 - ALL WORK AND NO PLAY

@whumptober2021

@whumptober-archive

“You’re still not dead?” | too weak to move | overworked

Finn had spent all week at work, and the week before that, and the week before that too. Despite the Daniels’ help, Jess was struggling. She had assignments and cases to do, on top of trying to look after Amelia. She wouldn’t change her daughter for anything, but she just needed a break. Just ten minutes to herself.

They were meant to have the Saturday off together, a rare occurrence anyway without their schedules acting against them. Instead Finn had pressed a quick kiss to her forehead and left her alone in bed, blaming some work emergency. He promised he’d be home for tea, and that he’d make it up to her another day, but she knew he wouldn’t be back before dark.

With their day ruined and Amelia somehow still asleep, she figured she might as well crack on with some of her work. It wasn’t going to do itself, after all. She could catch up on sleep later, once her casework was done. Just in case, she kept the baby monitor nearby, waiting for Amelia to wake up and start her demands. With a glass she wasn’t sure didn’t have wine in, she sat down to work.

Sheila had told Fao Jess was having a hard time, Finn working more and more with less time at home. He had the Saturday off, unlike his brother. He was alone though, Ely on shift as well. With Jess struggling, he decided to go over to see if he could give her a hand with Ameila, let her get some work done.

He let himself into the house, hesitant to call out in case Amelia was sleeping. He couldn’t find Jess anywhere obvious, so headed into her little office space.

“Jess?”

She jumped, spilling her glass. "Fucking hell, Fao."

“Sorry, sorry. I didn't want to wake Amelia if she was sleeping.” He said, glancing down apologetically. “Forgot I walk quietly.”

"Instead you give me a heart attack."

“Sorry. Sheila said you were having a crappy time, with Finn doing overtime. Do you want me to take Amelia for the day?”

"I'd be fine without interruptions."

“Sorry, sorry. Look, why don’t I take her, and then you won’t have any more?”

"I don't need your pity."

He folded his arms over his chest. “Really? You think this is pity?”

"I think you sneaking in here and planning to take Amelia is pity, yeah." Her voice wavered.

“I wasn’t going to take her without talking to you. She’s my niece, I just wanted to help…”

"I don't need your help, I just need to get this done." She stood, arms folded. "I don't need any of your help. I can do this myself."

“Sure. But you don’t have to. Surely getting your work done would be easier without Ameila needing something every five minutes?”

"It would be easier if Finn wasn't constantly at work and my work gave me half an hour to myself."

“Hence why I’m here.”

She groaned in frustration, turning away from Fao as the tears started to fall. She didn't need their help, she had to do it by herself.

“Come on, let me take her out to the park or something. A few hours, give you some time to rest?”

"I don't need your pity."

“It's not pity.”

"How am I meant to do it, Fao?" She turned to face him. "I'm trying my best but I'm not getting anywhere."

“That's what family is for, Jess.”

"I...I know that. I've just got to do it."

He moved closer. “Come on, if the roles were reversed you'd want to help me or Ely out.”

"Of course."

“So let me give you a hand?”

"Thank you."

“I can do the housework, too? Put some washing on, change your bed, make dinner? So you don’t have to stress.”

"No, no. That's too much."

“I don't mind. I'd just be sat at home doing nothing, might as well make myself useful.”

She hesitated. Finn couldn't cook, and it was safer that he didn't. "Tea might be nice."

“Yeah? I'll sort things for you.”

Jess moved forward, wrapping her arms around Fao. "Thank you."

The hug surprised Fao, but he wrapped his arms around Jess. “I've got you, don't worry about it.”

"Finn's lucky to have you for a brother."

“I’m lucky to have you as a sister in law.”

She pulled back to wipe her tears away. "God, I'm sorry. You came over to help and I've just broke down on you."

“Hey, it’s alright.” He said. “Break down all you like.”

"I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I never realised it was going to be this hard."

“Finn being gone so much doesn’t help.” He said gently, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

"It's just the icing on the cake."

“Yeah. It’s rough. I hope he’ll get back onto a proper schedule soon.”

"I'm proud of him, he's always wanted to be like you and he's doing it. I just… it's hard."

“God, it’s so hard. I couldn’t do what you’re doing.”

"She makes it all worthwhile, you know? Her little smile makes it all better." She sighed. "Her screaming in the middle of the night doesn't though."

“She’s gorgeous, but she’s just as high maintenance as her dad.”

"Maybe more so."

“Probably.”

"Takes after me too." She tried to joke.

“Only the good bits, I’m sure.”

"Days like today, I'm not sure I have any good bits."

“You do. Have you had any decent sleep? Why not give yourself a couple of hours?”

"I haven't got time."

He hugged her again quickly, and then pulled back. “I’ll stop distracting you, I’m sure you’ve got so much to do. Just shout if you need me though, yeah?”

"Thank you, Fao. For everything."

“Anything for family.”

[datingintampafails]

Chapter 30: Richard*

Let me start by saying, nothing is wrong with Richard*. I match with Richard* right as the nightmare that is “the microwave” has come to a close. Now that I am mere days away from being fully vaccinated, I break the rules a little bit to give myself a headstart before I am able to actually go on the dates. I figure, what is the harm in working on getting back out there? I send a “Like” to him on Hinge, inquiring about a prompt that mentions he had broken both of his arms. The next morning, I get a reply with the story. After discussing that series of events briefly, he goes on to ask more about me and the video games I play. I step on my soapbox for a time. He tells me that he plays a video game called League of Legends, which has a reputation for having some of the most toxic players online. I ask him half-jokingly if that is his way of telling me he is toxic. He swears by his alibi of not having his microphone on when he plays with strangers, so as to not be tempted. We reminisce about Runescape, and he tells me more about some of the games he plays.

We get into the topic of pets, where he says my dog seems nice. I ask him if he has any pets where I am surprised to learn he has two snakes. We talk briefly about what it’s like having snakes, and we segue onto a conversation about television shows due to my dog having a character’s name in a show he watches, which then segued into a conversation about having coronavirus, and travel, and my changes in taste since aforementioned COVID-19.

I narrate to him a conversation I’m having with my best friend about the show of the moment, “Bridgerton,” on Netflix. Pretty randomly, he officially asks me out for drinks. I tell him I have a caveat, that it needs to be next week, as at this time I am still technically not supposed to be dating yet since I am awaiting my second COVID-19 vaccination. I make a joke that I bet he thought I was going to say I had a penis. He jokes back that he was hoping I would. I continue a joke saying I am pretty sure I don’t have one, but if I do have one it’s extremely small. We learn that we have opposing schedules, “we suck” is how I put it. I offer that in the meantime, we can text/call/video chat in order to continue getting to know each other. He sends me his number though offers that we can talk with a “different method.” Being the jester I am, I turn this into a joke of seeing how many alternate methods I can think of. A good sport, he plays along and adds a few of his own, ending in “Mongolian throat singing.” Despite the ingenious ideas we come up with, I opt to stick to contact him via text message.

Upon texting him and seeing my area code, he recognizes it as his cousins lived in that area. He grew up a couple of hours away in rural Maryland. It is late, so our transition to text is brief for now. In the morning I challenge him regarding who woke up the earliest; I win this challenge due to having a call in at work at four in the morning. We then bond over the legendary Mountain Dew Game Fuel, Citrus Cherry, that would come out at game releases; once my favorite drink, being reminded of its existence brought me anger and sadness, which I expressed I was feeling to him. We are getting along so famously, that I decided maybe I can make an exception to seeing him before my vaccine. He says he is fine either way. We start to plan our date and settle on a brewery I like near me.

Much of our texts are light-hearted jabs at each other, nothing super deep. He compliments my quirks often. He often makes jokes about having a smooth brain and sends me many diagrams. He tells me about his major in college. I then realize I don’t know what he does for a living. I ask him what his job is, that’s when he tells me he is in the Army. The stereotype for men in the military is that they usually get engaged quickly, without knowing a person for very long. Being the jokester I am, I take this opportunity to jab at him. My response to his career is, “oh sorry I don’t want to get married next month.” He says that that is why he doesn't have his job in his profile, because of the stereotypes. I joke that I have been misled to believe he had been a chill down to earth guy.

When it is the day of the date, I jokingly keep saying I am going to wear an evening gown; I mention it a couple times. When I arrive, in my skirt and crop top, I see he’s actually dressed pretty nicely and is sitting outside, wearing long khaki pants and a dress shirt. It is a decently warm day, so I hope he's okay. I compliment him, saying he looks nice and he didn't need to dress up for me. He admits that because I kept talking about the evening gown, that he thought I might have been serious, so he wanted to match my formality. I do notice over the course of the date though that he is sweating through his shirt, especially at the underarms; not the most attractive, but a person cannot help these things.

The conversation goes well, we have a nice time and I regale him with the drama in my video game community and just talk about random things. I have a couple drinks and although we weren't planning on eating dinner there, he ends up eating a burger and I opt to just "steal some fries" since I had a late lunch. He is craving dessert so we walk a block to a local ice cream place and get some ice cream as well. When we return back to where the cars were, I realize that he had Ubered there, because another joke of mine was taken seriously regarding getting super drunk. I feel bad and offer to drive him home. We get in my car and I have him put in his address into Google Maps. I drive him there and when approaching his apartment, I see a lot of construction. He instructs me where I can drop him off and suggests that I turn around in a certain lot. He gives me a hug goodbye and I drive off.

I get completely confused and lost in the construction, between closed streets and cones blocking lanes, so I get stuck in the vicinity of his apartment for five minutes before being able to find my way back to the main road. I let him know of my troubles driving, and also when I got home. He thanks me for going out and says he had a great time. Whereas I also had a good time, I found it strange he made no moves whatsoever during the night and I didn't really feel a romantic urge with him.

I get my second COVID-19 Vaccine and take a day off to recover. We still talk at least daily while he is away on his trip; while he is gone I focus a little more on the other guy I am chatting with, John*. I've told my mom of my predicament between the two men, and between her and I, I decided I'll go out with Richard* again, give him another chance. If things still aren't progressing or feelings startup, I will end it and entirely focus on John*.

Richard* asks me when he can see me again and offers to cook for me. I give him my Friday night, which is a day after I am seeing John* again as well. On Thursday, he texts me to verify, saying "I'd like to see you tomorrow, did you still want to do dinner?" I told him I meant to confirm that day. We don't talk besides that, which is good for me because I don't have to worry about getting texts from him when I'm with someone else. The day of my second date with Richard*, I text him to ask for his address again and ask for suggestions on parking, since the construction was such a fiasco for me, I'm still traumatized lightly. He tells me and after a few hours, I get some complicated news regarding my gaming community, so I ask Richard* if I can reschedule to tomorrow, Saturday. He says it is fine and so we just chat for the rest of the day.

On the day our date will actually happen, he again seems to verify the date, asking me if I'm planning on coming over "today." I snarkily replied, "yeah I don't bail, you said 730." He asks me what I want to drink, as he must be grocery shopping. I panic and say seltzers. I take a quick nap and then let him know I am headed to his apartment. When I arrive, I try to follow his parking suggestions but get confused and don't see anything. After driving around for over five minutes, I start to panic as I don't see anything. I find a random gravel lot that is in earshot of where I had dropped him off on the first date, and I call to admit defeat. I send him a photo as well to show where I am. He comes out to find me and almost walks past my car. I flash my high beams at him to indicate it's me and he hops in the car. We drive around a few minutes and luck upon a spot that is close to one of the side entrances to his apartment complex.

I follow him to his apartment, he is again dressed nicely, and I am wearing more comfortable clothes. He is wearing a nice shirt, but with jeans. We get to his apartment and it is slightly better than a typical bachelor pad, but definitely not overly showy. He is still finishing up dinner, chicken pad thai, and he gets me out a white claw to drink. We chat briefly but he starts acting weird, just off. I just sit in his gaming chair and spin around, look at his one snake, and stay quiet. In a way, I am fine with the silence, as it solidifies my unease about this going anywhere. He eventually speaks up, saying he just got a killer headache and isn't feeling well. Due to his travels, I joke about him having coronavirus.

When the food is ready, I let him serve me, I tell him to go light as I don't eat much. He had talked a lot of game regarding his pad thai being good, and unfortunately, it was pretty disappointing. He used chicken thighs, which I am not a huge fan of, and the noodles seemed almost soggy. Richard* was aware of this, however, and commented that this wasn't his best dish and had used a new kind of noodles. I don't like and say that it's just alright, at least palatable. We watch some Brooklyn 99 and eat on his couch, sitting on opposite sides of the couch. After dinner, I get an official introduction to the snakes and get to pet them, it is bizarre, but kind of cool. Definitely not as fun as playing with, say, a dog. Shortly after that, I say it's getting late and I should probably go home. He walks me back to my car, which is a need since his complex is a maze. Again, he makes no moves and gives me a hug goodbye. For me, it's easy to see that something isn't quite right here. We chat briefly, for the next few days, as I'm not ready to immediately break his heart.

When he texts me four days after our date, explicitly saying the following, I see it is a perfect opportunity to come clean:

He took things very well, and I didn't hear from him again. I commend myself for being a real human and telling people how I feel, rather than ghosting and not giving others closure. I wish more conversations could go this way. I feel bad for the guy. It isn’t his fault that I ended up “playing the game” and doing what you’re supposed to do when you’re dating, which is, not to get stuck on one person and date around. It just so happens, he ended up being the one I obviously didn’t like as much and had to sacrifice for his own good. It’s possible that only due to my extreme attraction to the other guy, that he never had a chance as it was shadowed by my feelings for someone else.

[lianabrooks]

The Ongoing Ita Bag Saga

It's story time!

Back in the Before Times when people could do things like attend cons I became enamored with enamel pins at Emerald City Con (Seattle) and just as quickly found I could lose them easily. After losing one of my favorite pins at DragonCon in 2019 I decided drastic measures must be taken.

I needed a way to save my pins!

In January 2020 I found the perfect, most beautiful, most wonderful cloud-shaped ita bag on a Kickstarter and I backed it in a heartbeat.

And then COVID hit... factories closed. The production kept getting pushed back and as people got vaccinated and cons are slowly reopening in 2021 I found myself still bereft of a bag.

It was time for drastic measures! Or at least going to Etsy and resigning myself to a less-pretty bag. Not an ugly one. Not a ridiculously expensive one. Not one that was still in production. Not one shipping from overseas (because the mail has been absolutely awful ... this is a local problem not anyone else's, but I needed the bag this year).

At the end of March I finally found one seller with two bags left from there earlier kickstarter and I ordered my bag 1-April.

... it never shipped.

Well, according to the seller it shipped, but must have been stolen.

According to the postal service and the shipping label it was never dropped off at the post office ever.

So I suppose it could have been stolen if the seller was using a courier service to get things to the post office. Or if they scheduled pick-up from their house. Anything is possible.

But it didn't change the fact that it was mid-April and I was still ita bag-less.

I emailed the seller who explained their theory and who said they'd send another.

I've been tracking it all week and it finally - FINALLY - got here.

... minus the insert which was supposed to come with it. I don't know if the seller forgot, or if they sold out, or if they shipped the insert separate, or what happened. But I really don't have time to wait.

Next weekend is ATOMACON. It's a (very) small local convention in South Carolina where we were able to practice social distancing even before the plague because South Carolina is not a hotspot of geekdom (or anything, honestly, the economy here is dire... but that's a post for another day). I'm fully vaxxed (yeah for being high-risk?). The other attendees I've spoken with are vaxxed. We'll be wearing masks. And I want to bring my pins.

Because pins are fun and shiny and I need a bag to carry my dice in (for the D&D game I'm playing Saturday night).

So!

I went to the garage where I have a ridiculous number of cardboard boxes. 1) Because we move a lot and this gives me box-hoarding tendencies. 2) I haven't visited the cardboard recycling center in awhile.

But that's okay! Because I found a piece of cardboard the same size as my bag and cut out an insert. An ugly, cardboard insert. That just wasn't going to do.

I was going to use some holographic duct (duck) tape but my youngest child insisted the bag was hers and so she got to pick what the insert looked like.

And, look, I fully understand I should put my foot down, set boundaries, and do the Proper Parent thing where I show my kid whose boss but - honestly - arguing with my child is not worth all that. It would make the whole experience unfun. Plus, as important as boundaries are, there's something to be said for letting a kid do crafts with you.

We are a family big on sharing everything. We pool our resources. We work together. We share most the bags.

Heck, my older girls borrow my shoes and everyone but my spouse has borrowed my wellies (rainboots) at one time or another.

So I figured I'd let kiddo help me with deciding what to do.

I admit, I was very tempted by the idea of an acrylic pour. Mostly because I just really like acrylic pours and I thought it might look good (although that paint is notoriously hard to get good cells with and I really don't love it like I wanted to).

But I worried the pour would take too much time to dry and be - ultimately - too thick for the pins. So we picked the purple spray paint I had on hand from another project, and then watered down some silver and painted over.

It's still drying, but the final effect should look like a moon with silvery clouds.

Once it's dry I can pick out pins to take with me for the con!

[kmp78]

The story.

The story behind the hotel piccies, I mean!

Originally I had no clue where they might even be staying, since Oulu has exactly zero 5* hotels so I was kinda skeptical about JL/SL staying there overnight at all - in fact, I still think they might have only flown into town on Saturday just prior to the gig, but let´s get to that a little later! 😜

Anyway, as I stepped off the train I didn´t really have a plan in place which would have maximized my odds of running into the Letos, so I just bounced around town for a few hours - until I saw that Stevie had posted a snapshot of their hotel´s courtyard and BOOM! I recognized it as one of the central business hotel-type establishments. Not a 5* hotel by any means, but good enough for the crew obviously! 😆

So I chose to swing by the hotel as it was right around the corner, and indeed I was able to spot that errand girl Jackie and some other roadie dude goofing on bikes on the courtyard - and pretty soon SA also swerved in. I didn´t approach any of them because... why would I? Meh. Who cares. 😴

Nothing more seemed to be happening at the hotel tho so I split and went on with my day until a few hours later as I was making my way towards the marina again and I realized that the hotel was once again just around the corner, so I decided to do a little “drive-by inspection”, if you will! 🤭

And whaddya know! Who do I spot approaching the hotel? 😳

Only one of the most fervent...well, let´s just call her a “megasuperduper fangirl”. You know, the type who tours the globe after Mars and does 93 M&Gs per tour etc... 🙄

I´m not naming names here but you all know her and she has been discussed here many times. 😉

Anyway, I see she just waltzes into the hotel like no biggie (I know she didn´t stay at that hotel because she had posted from another hotel a day earlier), which got me thinking that... well, if SHE can just go into a hotel she´s not staying in, then why can´t I? 🤷🏼‍♀️

And thus I boldly followed her in - aaaaaaand almost had a stroke when I glanced at the gaggle of triad shirt-wearing females sitting around on sofas in the corner because among them was ANOTHER “megasuperduper fangirl” who is also very famous in our circles. Again, not naming names but you all know her too... 🙊

Well, “FOR REASONS” I was not about to go over there or hang around anywhere near their little sofa circle so I went and took a seat in the lobby´s kiddie play section which not only offered a power outlet for my phone but also a direct view to the elevators and main lobby. 🤟

After maybe 15 minutes or so, the echie group was suddenly summoned by SMG and led to one of the conference rooms to the side of the lobby. 

Yes I am a bit slow, but only then it clicked why that group was here. The M&G was taking place at the hotel! DOH! 🤦🏼‍♀️

For some reason I had assumed it would be at the festival backstage area like mine was in Getafe, but nope! It was at the hotel - which naturally meant that if the fans were lead to the room via the main lobby, the “band” would be too... 😯

Side note: the M&G group was TIIIIIINY! Maybe 15-18 people tops...

After the group left, mars crew activity in the lobby intensified: Matty Vogel was coming in and out with huge trunks and bags and and and some random roadie was telling him how amazing the sunset had been in Oulu the night before - confirming my suspicions that Matty had not spent the night in Oulu...

And if Matty only arrived earlier that day, I´m pretty sure so did the Letos! 🤷🏼‍♀️

SMG also popped out to the lobby and looked around all confused, obviously looking for someone but failing in it so she went back in.

Then Kenny came down to the lobby reception to ask about the wifi not working (uh oh...), and then asked them for an extension cord and scissors (ooookay...) and MAAAAAAYBE HAPPENED TO DROP THE NUMBER OF THE ROOM WHERE A CERTAIN SOMEONE WAS STAYING...😳

Oh Kennyyyyyy... Maybe keep that information a little more hush-hush...? 🤨🙉

Well, I chose not to climb up and go kick down the door for room 62X because I had already secured a nifty spot on the lobby couches so Messiah was quite safe, I assure you! 🤭

Then Kenny headed to the M&G room right past me - and let me tell you, that tiny lady looked exhausted as hell... Yawning wiiiiidely and looking slightly disheveled while constantly checking her phone. 😣

Soon she returned from the M&G room and headed up, and then in turn that new chick Jackie came down and sat down right next to me (I kept my headphones on and fiddled with my phone but I could still hear her audibly sighing (one of those annoyed-stressed sighs... Gee wonder who might be the cause of such deeeeeeeep sighs...🤔)

Only a few moments later the elevator doors pinged and...

They walked SOOOOOOO close to me, SL legit could have tripped on my foot (that´s my leg/knee you can see at the bottom...) 😂

When the door to the M&G room was opened, I could hear the group SINGING (I think it was WoW but can´t be sure) which is EXACTLY what Reni asked us to do in Stockholm as well, because apparently that would make the band arrive faster...

Childish much? 🙄

Also... THAT PESKY CHARLES MANSON THING JUST KEEPS CREEPING BACK INTO MIND... 😶

Anyway, I decided to double my odds of Letospotting and stayed put for the duration of the M&G, and soon I was joined by 2 Finnish drivers waiting for the band/crew to take them to the festival.

They kept chatting about how the band had ordered food to be brought backstage, but wanted it IN THE MIDDLE of their set, which made no sense to them... 🤔

And me either! 🤷🏼‍♀️

Oh except if the food items were also meant for the band´s... special guests waiting in the backstage area...

Hmmm.

Suddenly I heard noises coming from the M&G room´s direction, and I realized the event was over and got ready to get my pap on again...

JL was being EXTRA animated and lecturing Jackie about who knows what...

He def was into it, whatever “it” happened to be. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Interestingly enough, the hotel also housed a girl´s soccer team as well as other randoms, and NO ONE was allowed to use the lifts when the band was on the move!

Can´t risk those germs from normals, obviously! 🤢

MAJORLY IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE!!!!!!

It felt like a really short time that the Letos spent in that room, so I checked time stamps on my pics.

The pics of them walking in were taken at 20:25, and the pics of them walking out at 20:50, which means that THE M&G IN ITS ENTIRETY AKA THE Q&A SESSION AS WELL AS THE PICS TOOK ONLY 25 MINUTES!!!

I shit you not, folks. 😶

TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES.

Granted there were less than 20 people in attendance, but that´s no excuse! In fact, had it lasted the standard 45-50 minutes, the people who had paid $300-700 for that event could have gotten an extremely cool and personal experience with plenty of time for everyone´s questions, general chat and perhaps most importantly: the pic session would not have felt like a rushed cattle drive!

But... there it is. 🤷🏼‍♀️

Twenty-five minutes is all you get for a shit ton of money, guys!

Thank the friggin´ lords above I didn´t buy a M&G because HOLY SHIT.

HOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT!!!!!

Ugh. 😑💸

After the Letos disappeared upstairs, I chose to abandon my post and finally head out to the festival grounds (all the M&G folks left too so I figured if they dared to leave their Messiah, I might as well...)

Cut to an hour later, at 22:31 (only 1 minute after scheduled kick-off time whaaaaaaaaat...?!?! 😱), Monolith started booming from the speakers and show got underway.

Nothing much to add about the concert that wasn´t already mentioned in that review I posted earlier... You can still check the recording from the show on my IG for a few more hours! 😉

It really was exactly as lazy and re-re-re-re-re-re-reheated as we all suspected it to be - even down to the inbetween-song quips. 😴

“Has anyone ever heard of a song called The Kill?” 

Has anyone NOT heard that sentence before?! 😒

Doubtful. 🤷🏼‍♀️

The only memorable differences I could notice were that against all odds, SL's singing wasn't as bad as it has been previously, and that JL has graduated from shirts to hats:

Oh and of course that little outburst at Shayla was a nice touch. 👍

All in all, concert-wise I can't say I would have missed anything had I not gone to this one.

But the side events and whatnot...

Well, they were kinda amusing, not gonna lie! 😂😜

[stargazer-sims]

30 - "A Green Day"

For Artie, the past six days have seemed interminable. His emotions have been all over the place, he’s struggled to eat and hasn’t been sleeping properly. He hadn’t started to feel better physically until sometime during the day on Friday, and Saturday was the first day in a week when Emma took his temperature in the morning and discovered it was completely normal.

That’d felt like good news until he remembered their second peer support group was supposed to be later that day. Their second, and maybe their last. Earlier in the week, he was determined that he wouldn’t go, but on Saturday morning, he was overwhelmed with the need to be there. When he mentioned this to Emma, she’d hugged him and told him how strong and brave he was. He hadn’t felt particularly brave or strong, but he did feel like he should at least show up and explain why he was saying goodbye to the others. That had to be better than just disappearing without a word.

At the meeting, just like the first time, they went around the circle to give their updates. Artie wanted to laugh when Dylan and Tae actually did “rock, paper, scissors” to see which one would go first. It was obvious they were both bursting with excitement for the news they wanted to share. Across from each other, Zahir and Sunny exchanged amused, indulgent looks as their husbands played best two out of three.

Dylan was the winner, and happily informed the group that he’d had his confirmation scan the previous Monday, and that he and Zahir are expecting one baby, with a predicted due date in early March. With a mischievous grin at Zahir, he said he hoped it’d be on their wedding anniversary, March seventh.

By the time Dylan was done, Tae was literally wiggling in his seat, and as soon as it was clear no one else was going to speak, he burst out with, “Guess what? We’re having twins!”

This earned him and Sunny a round of applause around the circle.

It took him a few seconds to settle down enough to tell the rest of it, but eventually he said that he’d also had his first scan on Monday, and that he and Sunny now knew his predicted due date as well; February twenty-second.

Next, it was Félix's turn, and he described his experience with the implantation procedure the previous Saturday. He'd been ill and very tired for a few days, but hadn't suffered more than he'd imagined he would. He said his confirmation scan was scheduled for Tuesday at one in the afternoon. He and Artie seem to be on the same schedule, having had all their appointments on the same days so far.

Finally, it was Artie and Emma's turn. Coming into the meeting, Artie had no idea what he was going to say when they reached this point. He didn't know how to tell all these happy, optimistic people that he and Emma might be finished with the process already.

"We... we don't know if the procedure worked for us," were the first words out of his mouth. “I was in the hospital for three days, and... and it's probably not going to be good news." Then, he had to stop because he felt like he couldn't breathe.

Emma held his hand, and quietly described the events of their week. Artie hadn't known what to expect, but what happened next certainly wasn't it. No one said anything, but one by one, the other dads came over and offered him a hug. He resisted at first, but it was Tae who ultimately crumbled his resolve. The air immediately surrounding the Sixamish man seemed to be glowing faintly blue, and although Artie could not figure out how or why, he sensed that Tae was literally projecting comfort and compassion.

"It's okay to be sad," Tae said.

It was such a simple, obvious statement, yet somehow it was profound to Artie. He'd been so afraid of revealing anything in front of these people, afraid of what they'd think of him and that they wouldn't understand what he was feeling because it wasn't their experience. But, in that moment, he realized it didn't matter if any of them fully understood. Comprehension isn't a prerequisite for empathy.

He concluded that Tae was right. It was okay to be sad. He shouldn't be ashamed of something that was a natural and logical result of what he's going through.

Once Tae released him, he allowed the others to hug him too. He thought he wouldn't like being touched by near strangers — other men, no less — but it was all right. They cared about him. They wanted him to be okay.

After the meeting, when everyone was leaving, Tae came up to him and told him, "I hope you have a green day on Tuesday, Artie."

Perplexed, he glanced at Tae's wife for an explanation of this odd statement.

Sunny had smiled at him, evidently grasping the question he hadn't even asked. "It's an idiom in Sixamish, but it doesn't really translate into English," she explained. "The colour of people's aura is green when they're happy or excited or hopeful, so when you wish someone a green day, you're wishing them well."

Artie had liked that. He liked it so much, in fact, that when he and Emma got home, he'd taken a green highlighter and circled Tuesday's date on the calendar in their shared office. Perhaps he wasn't feeling hopeful, but he was glad he'd decided to go to the peer support group meeting. If nothing else, he felt comforted by the outpouring of kindness from the other participants, and he had a tentative idea of himself and Tae becoming friends, regardless of what the outcome of his appointment would be.

Unexpectedly, he thinks he might become friends with Félix as well. Although Félix had not wished him the Earth equivalent of a 'green day', he did give Artie his university business card with his personal phone number scribbled on the back, and said to text or call any time if he felt like talking. Actually, a lot of phone numbers had been exchanged at that meeting. Félix and Dylan had both given their contact information to everyone, and Tae had given his at minimum to Dylan, which was no surprise. In Artie's opinion, Dylan and Tae becoming best friends is almost inevitable.

Artie passed the remainder of the weekend in better spirits than he'd anticipated, and had been able to return to work yesterday. He spent the morning at the office today, but he and Emma had left around eleven-thirty to be at the clinic for his appointment at noon.

When they got there, someone escorted them downstairs to a room, which is where they're waiting now. The nurse or care assistant, or whatever his position title may have been, had instructed Artie to remove his shirt, and said that someone would be along to do his scan shortly.

Artie is reclining on the bed, shirtless and shivering a little. He's anxious and scared, and he wants to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Are you okay?" Emma asks him.

"Not really," he admits. "Honestly, I feel kind of nauseous. You know how I get."

"I know," Emma says. She reaches for his hand. "Take some deep breaths."

He does as she instructs, but it helps only slightly. What he really needs is his anti-anxiety medication. He hasn't been allowed to take it since the day before he had the implantation procedure, and wouldn't have been allowed to take it throughout the entirety of his pregnancy, if he were pregnant. Maybe that'll be the silver lining, he tells himself sardonically. The news they receive today may be shattering, but at least he'll be able to dull the sharpest edges of his pain with prescription drugs.

He wants to laugh uncontrollably at this, not because it's funny, but because he's metaphorically walking an emotional high wire. It's as if the thin thread could snap at any moment and send him plunging into an abyss. It's making him hysterical. To keep himself quiet, he bites down on the inside of his cheek. He clenches his teeth so hard that he tastes blood. Tears brim at the corners of his eyes, and he doesn't quite manage to suppress a tiny whimper.

“Artie." Emma says his name in the way she always does when she needs to get his attention. "Sweetie, look at me.”

Obediently, he looks up. "I'm sorry," he says.

"It's okay," she says. "Everything's going to be okay. No matter what happens, we still have each other, and we’ll get through it together.”

Artie nods, but he’s afraid to speak, worried that if he does, he’ll start crying in earnest. Emma squeezes his hand, reassuring him with her nearness.

They wait in silence for a few more minutes, and then the door opens and Dr. Zira strides in. This surprises Artie, as Tae and Dylan had both said a medical technician had performed their scans and that they hadn't seen the doctor at all during their scan appointments.

Dr. Zira greets them warmly, and asks Artie how he's feeling. He's not certain how he's supposed to answer this, so he just says he's okay.

Evidently sensing that he's not in the mood for a conversation, Dr. Zira gets straight to business. "Normally, we'd have a technician performing this test," she says, "But, I felt it was important to perform yours myself, given your particular situation. I trust that's acceptable?"

"Yes," Artie says.

"The first thing we'll need to do is put some contact gel on you. It may feel cold or unpleasant, but I'll need you to relax as best you can. Once I begin, try to breathe normally."

"Okay."

The gel isn't as cold as he expects, but it does feel damp and disgusting on his belly. He doesn't like it, and he squirms uncomfortably. Emma strokes his forearm and says, "Try to stay still, sweetie. It'll be done in a few minutes."

Artie tries not to watch the doctor, but is unable to look away completely. She gets a small device from a drawer underneath the screen of the scanner, and presses a button on it. The machine beeps, and the screen brightens.

Dr. Zira passes the device over Artie's stomach, humming softly as she studies the screen.

"Hmm...I don't see..." she murmurs, and then, "Ah, yes. There you are."

"What is it?” Artie asks anxiously. "What do you see? Is it...?"

"Well, I'm more than happy to show you," she says. "I'll need you to look over here at the screen for a moment."

His heart is beating so fast that he's starting to feel breathless. He turns his head slowly. "What... what is it?"

"Can you see this small, dark area?" Dr. Zira points to the image, and Artie has to squint to locate a tiny, dark grey speck amid a bewildering swirl of lighter greys.

"That little black dot?" he asks.

"Yes," she says. "That little dot is a viable fetus. I must say, I am astonished under the circumstances, but honestly quite pleased."

Artie looks from the screen to his wife. Emma has let go of his hand, and has both hands pressed over her mouth. She's staring at the image. "Are you saying it worked?"

"Indeed," says Dr. Zira.

"That little dot... is our baby?" Emma asks.

"It is," says the doctor. "There is only one, which is fairly typical for this procedure under normal conditions. As I explained in the beginning, if one implants, the other usually does not."

All Artie can do is nod in mute shock, not quite able to process what he's hearing.

"Artie," Emma whispers. "You did it."

"This is only the beginning," Dr. Zira is saying. "You have done it, Mr. Greene, but there's a lot more to do before this little one makes their appearance."

"Whatever we have to do, we'll do it," Artie says, and now the tears running down his face aren't due to fear or stress.

"For now, I suggest relaxing and enjoying your good news," says the doctor "I have to tell you, I had hoped this would be the outcome for you. I was not optimistic, given how severe your reaction was, and the less than favourable results I've seen in other patients after similar immune responses." She turns fully so that she can make eye contact with both of them, and smiles wide enough to reveal her pointed teeth. "But, it would seem that in your case, despite the odds, hope survives."