#Spring is just a REALLY bad month for my farmer

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

I gotta admit - EXTREMELY humbling to go broke in farming/life sims...

[vodika-vibes]

Congrats on 500, love that's amazing!!!

If I could have Wolffe and Wmerald during spring that would be absolutely lovely.

My Choice Remains

Summary: After the attack that costs Wolffe his eyes, he’s taken to avoiding you. Luckily, you’re just as stubborn as he is.

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader

Word Count: 717

Warnings: Wolffe is a little insecure here

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @the-bad-batch-baroness (you love wolffe after all)

A/N: Sorry that this took so long! It kind of got...lost, in the shuffle of all of the other requests! T-T

“Found you!” You lean over so that Wolffe is forced to look at your face, and you note that he seems surprised to see you. To be fair, it is early enough that the sun is just barely peeking over the horizon, even the recently bloomed spring flowers are still sleeping.

The surprise fades quickly as he leans back to look at you, a stern look on his handsome face, “Found implies that I was lost.”

Your grin never wavers, “Weren’t you?” You ask as you plop yourself on the bench next to him and temptingly offer him the breakfast sandwich and caf you ordered for him specifically.

The sandwich and caf that you’ve been ordering every morning for the last month.

Wolffe glances at the food offering, and then sighs and takes the bag and the styrofoam cup, “I knew where I was.” He replies as he pulls the sandwich out of the bag.

“So you’ve been avoiding me then.” 

“...no.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Wolffe.” You reply as you take a sip of your own caf, “But that’s okay, I happen to think it’s one of your good traits.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” He counters as he glances at you.

“Really?” You lean over to try and look at his face, but he turns his head away from you, “Because, it kinda seems like you’re still trying to avoid me.” You shift on the bench so that your knees are touching his, “Is this about me agreeing to go on a date with Comet, because it wasn’t a real date-”

“No, it…wait. What? What date?”

“Oh. He didn’t tell you. Never mind.”

Wolffe finally turns to look at you, an unhappy scowl on his face. And you finally see why he’s been avoiding looking at you. The scar and cybernetic eye don’t detract from his looks, in your opinion, but you have the feeling that he won’t appreciate that comment. “What date?” He demands.

You roll your eyes, “It wasn’t a real date. Comet bumped into a cute little thing at the farmer’s market-”

“Comet goes to the Farmer’s Market?”

“Yes, he does. Stop interrupting me,” You chide lightly, “Anyway, she asked him out, and he freaked out and asked me to take him on a practice date so he doesn’t mess up too badly.”

“...how was the practice date?”

“Not terrible. Aside from the fact that he said that my haircut was ugly.”

“It’s not.”

You beam at him, “Yes, I know. Comet apologized right after he said it.” Wolffe hums and turns his head away from you again, or he tries to. You don’t let him, your fingers gentle against his jaw, “May I see, Wolffe? Please?”

The paper wrapper of the breakfast sandwich crinkles in his suddenly clenched fist, but he allows you to tilt his head so you’re looking at him properly.

The injury looks like it’s healed properly, it’s not red or inflamed. And the cybernetic eye looks like it’s working as well as his natural eye. You lightly trail your thumb over the scar, and Wolffe closes his eyes.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” He admits, gruffly.

“Well, you avoiding me made me worry more, Wolffe.” You point out gently, “I thought I had done something to make you hate me.”

He huffs out a laugh, his breath fanning across your face, “You could never.”

You hum quietly, “Did you think that I wouldn’t still find you attractive because of the scar?”

He’s quiet for a long moment, “...you did always like my eyes.” Wolffe finally admits.

“Silly man,” You lean in and press a light kiss just over the scar under his eye, “I like you. Everything else is just…window dressing.”

Wolffe sighs softly, “Was worried that you’d regret choosing me.”

You shake your head, “My choice, Wolffe, remains. You. Always you.” You lightly press your free hand against his cheek, so you’re cupping his face between your hands. “But I can be patient until you believe me.”

He sighs again, “Thank you.”

You beam at him, “Of course. That’s what it means to love someone.”

And the look he shoots you is so soft, and so adoring, that you know that you won’t have to wait long for him to realize that you’re not going anywhere.

[okayto]

Hello, it is I, the person who disappeared for like a solid month because everything is stressful. Not even the interesting kind of stressful. Just, y'know, *gestures at world*.

Passed both my classes this spring! I'll graduate in a year, which feels so close (for good and for bad). Classes kicked my butt, though, which is large reason why I disappeared.

My normal strategy of "reach out and apologize proactively when I fall behind even when not asking for an extension" continues to work. Probably helps that my work is actually good when it finally gets turned in. But I really fell apart in the back half of the semester.

My sleep schedule has been a horror all year. We're talking "I miss when 3am felt late" kind of horror. Hoping to drag it back from the brink this summer.

I'm responsible for buying an expensive new item at work. The proposal was mine, too, but now we're at the purchasing part (and I have to start making decisions about specifics) and it's so nerve-wracking. This'll be the most expensive item the library lends.

Garden will be mostly a wash this year, but I DO have a bed full of garlic, so at least something will have grown!

It's almost summer reading program time. (To be clear: at the public library where I am a patron, not my workplace.) I am SO HYPED, like I am every year. The worst part is that college ends in May, so my brain is in "summer" mode now and hates waiting for the public library kickoff in a few weeks.

When was the last time I read a book that didn't have pictures? Uhhh

I'm behind on leisure activities which isn't really something that happens, but it feels like it does.

I subscribed to Dropout!

One of my favorite students graduated :( The downsides of working at a college.

Summer goal: work inbox zero. Or at least, work inbox 100. (Current status: 3900.)

Will probably feel great until my summer class starts next month, at which point I foresee Return of the Stress.

It's just about farmers market season! Downside: gotta budget for this stuff. Upside: heck YES I get little treats for getting out of bed before noon!

[carriagelamp]

On the plus side we're out of the February Doldrums that were sucking the life from me! There are actual signs of spring! Daylight! Flowers! Woohoo, I almost feel human again and my reading has become a lot more positive as well! On the down side there's... *gestures at all of it* so y'know. Thank god for stress reading. I actually quite enjoyed almost everything I read this month.

Ella Minnow Pea

Possibly my favourite book of the month, I got this one as a rec on tumblr and it completely charmed me. I listened to it as an audiobook, but honestly it really makes me want to find a print copy to see how the experience changes my enjoyment of the story and what I pick up from it.

Ella Minnow Pea is an epistolary novel about the correspondence between various inhabitants of a small island nation Nollop. The island’s claim to fame is being home to Nevin Nollop, the creator of the pangram “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog”, and this has engendered a love for language and reading in its populace. However one day the unthinkable happens: a lett falls off the mural commemorating the great phase. The Nollopian government chooses to take this as a sign from Nollop himself and henceforth bans any use of that particular letter with severe consequences if not obeyed. Things only get worse as more and more letters begin to drop off.

The novel manages to be funny and charming, while also presenting a very interesting look at the rise of a totalitarian regime and how curbing a person’s ability to speak — and therefore dissent — impacts every part of a community. It felt very relevant in these current times, especially with the topic of book bans all the more common in the news.

Fantastic Mr Fox

I had some fun reading Dahl this month, including a reread of The Fantastic Mr Fox. It’s a short work, but always a fun one. Who doesn’t love a good comeuppance story with a healthy dose of a cunning character outwitting his adversary? And Dahl is always good for creating some properly loathsome villains.

For anyone who hasn’t read this one, The Fantastic Mr Fox is about a fox who frequently visits three different farms (owned by the horrible Borris, Bunce, and Bean) in order to steal food for his family. When the farmers finally decide they’ve had enough, they trap Mr Fox down his hole and plan to starve him out… but fortunately Mr Fox and his family won’t be outwitted that easily.

Fun Home

I’ve heard lots of talk about the musical… and I’ve heard lots of talk of Alison Bechdel… but at no point did I realise that Fun Home was originally a graphic novel written by her. I stumbled across it in the library and decided it was time to finally read it. And wow, it really was a wonderfully done memoir. There was a beauty to it and the details of the art, but also a crudeness and a vulgarity and a tragedy that made it feel very human. It made great reading, lots of fun to chew on. And it’s always interesting to see how someone can take real events of their life and turn it into a narrative, what’s kept, what’s discarded, what’s treated as fact and what’s contemplated… I dunno, it was an interesting read, would recommend.

Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation v2, 3

So back in December I started listening to the fan-audiobooks made by @redoftheturks for The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation to deal with the stress. Because hey! No matter how bad it is for me, Wei Wuxian has it so much worse and I’ll take comfort in that!! Well folks, you’ll never believe it but things seem to have not only stayed stressful but have somehow gotten markedly worse. 🫠 Anyway. I have gone through both book 2 and 3 now. So thank you, redoftheturks, for the tenuous hold I still have on my sanity!

(And seriously, if you're interested in these audiobooks and haven't listened to them yet, I highly recommend them, they're a fantastic reading. This is just going to be my mental voice for Wei Wuxian from this point forward, it's what he sounds like when I read fanfiction now)

The Guncle

Picked up this one from my library on a second hand recommendation and… hm. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be for me and I was correct. I really am not big on contemporary fiction most of the time and this one stayed true to that rule. I could not stand the protagonist or the narrative voice at all, it was completely intolerable to me. YMMV, obviously, but… yeah, no. Not for me. I DNF this one pretty quickly.

A Magical Girl Retires

An interesting South Korean novella about a world where magical girls occasionally happen, and how society has shaped itself around the phenomenon. After all, if you can have magical girls… what about magical women? How are they paid? Do you need a second job? Insurance? A union?

This story follows the protagonist who has sunk deeper and deeper into a credit card debt she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to repay and is now contemplating suicide. Before she can take that final step though a magical girl appears out of nowhere with the belief that she is about to become the greatest magical girl of all time, the one who might be able to save them all from disaster.

I’m honestly rather lukewarm on magical girl parodies (I like the whimsy and joy of it being played straight, just inject Cardcaptor Sakura straight into my veins tbh) but this one was quick, well-written, and had some interesting societal introspection; it made a very enjoyable read. Plus some pretty art!

My Dress-Up Darling v8, 9, 10

A manga series about a girl (Marin) who loves the idea of cosplay but doesn’t even know where to begin with it, and a boy (Wakana) who wants to carry on his family’s business of creating hina dolls. They end up becoming friends when he agrees to try adapting his skills into making cosplay costumes for her. It’s satisfying, by this point in the series, to see how both of their skills are improving, how their friendship circles are expanding, and how they are both slowly waking up to the fact that their feelings for each other go beyond friendship. Also I do enjoy the practical side of things that My Dress-Up Darling takes the time to showcase, even if it is sandwiched between a lot of fanservice.

The cultural festival arc in book 8 was probably my favourite arc in these three books, the group cosplay arc had some good character development but I had a hard time really caring as much about the side characters.

The Skull

I love Jon Klassen. I love his fucked up little stories and his fucked up little pictures. The Skull was recommended to me (ie: nearly forced into my hands) by a nine year old and honestly it was a great recommendation — I had no idea he’d written this. It’s a bizarre little chapter book that’s retell a folktale about a girl who enters an old castle and finds a talking skull that asks to be carried around and warns her against the headless skeleton that wanders around at night. Completely deranged, 10/10.

Sunny Days: The Children’s Television Revolution That Changed America

A very interesting nonfiction that looks at the creation / rise of children oriented edutainment TV. For obvious reasons Sesame Street holds a significant focus, but it also explores the shows that preceded it, and many of its contemporaries as well as shows that spawned afterwards. I didn’t realise that Sesame Street had a spin-off program to teach slightly older children to read called The Electric Company! I found this entire thing completely fascinating, and it makes me wonder what the current state of children’s educational programming is like…

The Twits

The second Dahl book I read this month, since it’s one I’ve never read before. Just a ridiculous little book about the two most miserable people you can imagine who are married to each other. There’s nothing redeemable about Mr or Mrs Twit, and they constantly try to do horrible, awful things to each other and the people around them. The joy is watching just how wretched they can be, and Dahl does this sort of thing so well.

You Are Asked To Witness: The Sto:lo in Canada’s Pacific Coast History

A nonfiction book (more textbook style than most of the books I read) that recounts the changing history of the Sto:lo indigenous people on Canada’s West Coast. It’s well-written and helps recontextualize a lot of history through an indigenous lens, clearing up a lot of misconceptions and lies that have been perpetuated over the years. This is something I’ve been reading in bits and pieces over the years and have finally finished — I feel accomplished! A worthwhile read if you’re interested in North American history and modern day societal commentary.

[dizzybizz]

AITA if I accidentally left fish at my mayor's house for two weeks straight? And it left his house stinky?

OK- so I (26TM) moved to a small sort of isolated town during spring this year, where I work as a farmer on a farm my grandpa once owned. It's been great and I have really settled in over the course of the year.

Time passed and eventually fall was upon us. Now, during the middle of fall the town holds a small festival, where among other things you could set up a little stall with your finest products for a friendly competition and review. Our mayor (??M) hooked me up with one of those which was really nice- I had been doing a lot of fishing over the months and I had a few good ones to display so I did. I ended up getting second place- okay no, that is not really relevant-

But after the results were out, the mayor specifically reminded me to not forget to empty out my supply and bring it with my back home. He specifically went out of his way to remind me. Thing is... I might have gotten a bit caught up in the other festivities and fun things around (not my fault they were grilling burgers and had gambling). And I completely forgot, I only remembered the moment I stepped foot inside my room again.

Next morning rolls around and I wake up to a letter in my mailbox from the mayor explaining that the fish I had left were placed inside the town's Lost and Found. Which is just a big box inside his house. So I thought "OK, great. I'll head over today and retrieve them." Yeah, that didn't really turn out. I completely forgot, it completely slipped my mind. And that same series of events of - me recalling that I had stuff in the Lost and Found and meaning to go pick them up and forgetting - kept happening for a while. Until two weeks had passed and it was winter. And as I was passing the mayor's house the thought struck again. Except this time I actually REMEMBERED and WENT THROUGH WITH IT. So I knock on his door and I get let in, and the house smells like, well... rotten fish. I go straight to the box while talking about how I'm so sorry it took so long and that I was always getting distracted by this that and the other. And he's being all understanding and nodding along. But there is no way he wasn't at least a bit ticked off, right? And I do feel really bad but I cannot do much for my forgetfulness besides setting reminders maybe... maybe I will try that in the future.

AITA for forgetting to pick up my forgotten fish from my mayor's house?

[just-run-it-out]

3 day weekend that was not relaxing at all:

Hit up the farmers market on Saturday and got a loaf of bread and a huge spring roll

Bf has had issues with his car the last few months and had it in the mechanics all week. Nearly $800 later and they fixed the problem except then when we went to test drive it to the market it could barely make it up the hill out of town and all the warning lights came on so we had to drive it back home and take my car

So many loads of washing

Gym x 2

Sunday we did a practice drive to a train station nearby bcos of bus replacement this week when bf goes to work. Thankfully it doesn’t impact me as I’m going to work in the other direction

Went to st burgs @dinosaur-trees and it was a solid 7/10

Underwhelming visit to a savers superstore - everything was just a little bit overpriced but they did have a decent book selection

Put off booking flights for our holiday in a couple of months and also put off looking at our wedding script from the celebrant. I am going to try force myself to do both tonight

Monday was where everything really went wrong. Bf and I both had the day off - I went to the gym in the morning and bf took his car back to the mechanic

We drove out to the eastern suburbs for lunch and to help my sister move into her new home as it was settlement day. Settlement was supposed to happen at 2pm - we had to leave at 4:15pm and it still hadn’t happened. We left and she rang just before 5 to say it had finally gone through but it was incredibly stressful as they had a moving truck there and the moving guys were understandably wanting to wrap their day up

Took us nearly an hour and a half to get home which was expected but on the way home bf got a call to basically say they don’t know what’s wrong with his car and they only thing they could do was install a $1100 part that ‘might’ fix it but the mechanic didn’t recommend it. Now it’s basically been decided we either need to sell the car or get rid of it when he’s only had it a year which is unfortunate

Got home and between eating dinner, showering, finishing 10000 steps, making sausage rolls for the week and trying to wind down before bed i feel like I didn’t stop

Terrible nights sleep where I had bad dreams and woke up with anxiety. Realized bf & I had forgotten to put money in our joint account for the mortgage direct debit so got charged a small late fee. Not a big deal except we’ve already been charged another overdraft fee this month for a direct debit going out and us not replenishing the money within a certain time frame.

I had intended to go into the office today but that’s not happening now

Have a monthly one on one scheduled with my manager today where I might find out if my contract is extended or not 😐😐😐 It is contingent on approval from our GM who only came back from leave yesterday so I don’t expect an answer today but maybe at least a timeframe

[dewystars-of-the-valley]

Dewy Petals Farm - SDV Sebastian x Female!Farmer (SFW)

Slow burn, Fluff, Grumpy x Sunshine Trope, Sebastian/OFC

Cross-posted on AO3: Dewy Petals Farm - SDV Sebastian x Female!Farmer

Summary:

The new farmer is weird, like really weird. They find random shit in the dirt, will pull a diamond from a fish's mouth, and can make Sebastian blush. Sebastian doesn't want to blush! 

Everyone around Pelican Town is falling for our sweet farmer, but no one in the same way Sebastian is. Or are they?

Ch. 1

It had been weeks since he had truly relaxed. Even his nightly smoke couldn't cut through all of the tension that had settled in his neck. His most recent client had worked him to the bone testing both his patience and his patience. It was some ass wipe with a rich dad who wanted to “set his start-up tech firm apart from the rest” in Zuzu City. The city of tech start-ups. The kid had every demand in the book without an ounce of understanding. 

In the past month he had missed the change of seasons, apparently, as the scent of spring new growth surrounded him. He had been ignoring everyone for weeks and had hundreds of texts from Sam and Abigail. He scrolled to the top and started scanning for anything of actual substance. As usual, there wasn't.

---

Sucks ur clients such a dick

Abs is shunning u bc u cancelled again

U up for a game?

Sorry cant tonight

Practicing pool with the new girl

Getting pretty good

Prepare to lose biotch

---

New girl?

That was last Friday. Damn he hadn’t looked at these for a while. Come to think of it that must be what his mom had been nagging him about lately. Introducing himself probably. She always wanted him to be more social. He was just quiet, not inept. But the new farmer. What kind of person would move to Pelican Town? 

“OOF” Clang!

His neck twinged from swinging around so quickly. He rubbed it as he snuffed his cig on a nearby rock. He kept telling Maru to ask for help with that damn telescope. 

“Maru? You good?” 

“Maru?” he grew concerned the longer she didn’t answer. 

As he breached the tree line he was met with what must be the new farmer in a shadowed heap in the moonlight. She moaned as she righted herself and started picking up the objects scattered around. A shiny stone tumbled to meet Sebastian. He picked it up and tried to figure out what to say to a stranger who just fell down a hill outside your house in the middle of the night. 

“You just moved in, right?” Well that was a choice. 

She shrieked and fell back with a big rusty cog in her hand. A very frazzled face covered in dirt looked back at him. They stared silently at each other for a moment. 

“Uhhh. Yeah. Oh, thanks. And sorry. Yeah. Thanks.” She shuffled forward on her knees to take his offered shiny rock. She took a moment to cram the rusty cog and what looked like a shovel into her knapsack. Neither looked like they could fit but she somehow forced the latch closed regardless. She looked down at the shiny rock and then back at Sebastian, still standing awkwardly with his now useless hands in his pockets. 

“Do you like quartz?” She asked holding the shiny rock up. 

“Uh, its not bad. Yeah.” Really killing it with the dialogue tonight, Seb. Is exactly what Sam would say if he could see him now. Thank every star that Abi wasn't watching this. 

She held it out between them until he took it and then swung what had to be a dangerously heavy bag onto her shoulders. 

“Thanks for taking that. I had no room.” She smiled lopsidedly. “I’m Poppy, by the way.” The two stood in awkward silence for a moment. Sebastian searched for something to say. 

“So, out of all the places you could live, you chose Pelican Town?” Oh, no. “That-”

“Well, it’s my Grandpa’s farm, so…” the smile had slid away and she was looking everywhere but at him. “Sorry! I must’ve scared you with all the noise. Oh, I hope I didn’t wake up Linus.” She looked over her shoulder towards his tent. “He says someone throws rocks at his tent at night. That’s not you right? If it is, like dude, you should stick to smoking for stress relief if that's the alternative. Usually I am all for getting off the death sticks. But Linus?!” She finally looked back up at his face and at the same time seemed to realize the tangent she had been on. She froze. 

“I am so sorry, and sorry for interrupting your evening! Bye! Good night!” She turned and ran away, swaying with the force of her bag and the speed of her turn. Before Sebastian could form a word she had disappeared in the night. 

He stood still, a little confused, a little amused, and a little bit worried about his weird wild acquaintance up the hill. Who could be throwing rocks at his tent?

Masterlist

[potatowithahat]

Part two: A doctors Notepad

A sdv Harvey fic

Part one here

Summer 1, year one

       Well springs gone, which means most of the allergy complaints are fizzling out. I haven't seen The Farmer since the flower dance though. I'm not sure what's going on. Did I do something to make them not like me? I don't know. I'm too anxious to ask her. The Farmer is the first real friend other than Shane or Elliot I've had since moving here, and even then there really only drinking buddies. I think I'll wait for them to come to me.

                                             -Harvey, the doctor

Summer 3, year one

       Last night there was an awful crashing noise from up by Robin's. Maru was telling me all about it when the farmer came in with a coffee for me. I think this is the first time they've come to see me since the flower dance.  I was honestly ecstatic. But Maru and the Farmer both got really quiet and just looked at each other for a second. Then Maru shouted ‘I'm a lesbian!’ And they both burst out laughing. I still don't get the joke. Either way my prospects in this town are dwindling by the day.

       I suppose you and me have a long year ahead journal. Speaking of which I think I finally named you!!!!!! Ok, ok, hear me out…. Joseph List-er. Get it! Cause you're a Journal,  so I can list everything that happens to me. Its stupid anyway. Why am I still writing like I'm talking to you? This is too odd.

                                              -Harvey, the doctor

Summer 5, year one

Linus came in around two am last night with the farmer in his arms. I nearly fainted when I saw the injuries. I haven't seen cuts like that since I med school. I'm a medical professional though,  so I got her to the beds in the back and cleaned her up. In the end they needed twenty-three stitches on their legs and four in their head. It was awful. They finally woke up around three am, thank Yoba. As soon as they was up I was checking their vitals and pupils for dilation. I asked them for their name and they just asked me what I was doing. When I tried to explain I needed to check for a concussion and amnesia they looked me dead in my eyes and said: I heard a joke about amnesia once, but I forgot how it goes.

      It wasn't even a good joke, but I was practically beside myself laughing. I don't…. Yoba this is bad. They definitely think I'm crazy after that, I must have looked insane laughing so much. I fixed myself soon enough but I still… I don't know. I gave them the whole speech on keeping safe and wound care and she was on her way home before dawn. That was maybe twenty minutes ago,  so that's all you're getting for today. I need a nap.

                                          -Harvey, the fool 

Summer 10, year one

       Sorry about the slow entries last week. Jas and Vincent caught the flu and Shane has been practically shadowing me making sure they get better. It's the longest I've seen him sober in months. Regardless, I need to get better at updating this little guy.

       Anyway, the farmer came in in a panic today asking me ‘what the hell a luau is’. Apparently she's never been to one and got a letter from Luis explaining how the governor was coming into town for it. I laughed and explained the silly tradition. It's not like the governor's visit actually matters, he always comes back. After she was calmed down she asked what she should bring. I shrugged and told her I always bring beans because there a good source of protein. Half a cup of beans can provide about seven grams of protein,  which is the same as an ounce of meat.

      Sorry, I'm rambling again. Regardless, the Farmer left midway through my beans speech saying she had the perfect idea. It was quite odd. I guess I'll have to see what they bring to the event.

                                    Harvey, the doctor 

Summer 11, year one

       The luau was a huge success this year! The Farmer brought some hot peppers, and though it was a little too spicy for my tastes it was still delicious. The Farmer came and ate by me too. It.. was quite the evening. I was exhausted by the end though. My social battery certainly isn't what it used to be. I should really start going out more. Perhaps I should bring that up in my next session.

       Either way it's quite late now. I should probably get to bed… but… something about the Farmer bugged me today. They were so lively,  but everything someone else would talk to them they'd seem to dampen a bit. Like someone covered the sun in their eyes with a cloth. It.. it was a bit odd. I considered asking them, but I couldn't quite find a way to ask ‘Where does the light in your eyes go when you talk to…

       Oh… OH.. oh Yoba. I'm a fool. I.. oh dear

                                          -Harvey

Thank you so much for reading!!!

As always, my asks are always open, so if you liked this and have any ideas or requests please feel free to suggest something!!!

Also if you're interested in any of my other works you can find them all linked in my Pinned post! Also I have an Ao3, which you can find a link to there!!!

Any way I hope you enjoyed!!!

[rustyram035]

Blood on the snow (finally finished!)

My small work about Cicero's past as assassin of Dark Brotherhood

The cold weather had fallen on Cyrodiil like a spring rainstorm. This year, they were greeted by an unfriendly fall, ruining their crops and their last hopes of acquiring the apple cider that that sweet farmer's daughter was selling. But not about that.

Despite the early days of early winter, the remotest and coldest part of Sirodiil Bruma, had long since been plunged into the darkness of cold nights, and smoke billowed across the ground, probably trying to find a last drop of warmth. But he knew little about the farming traditions and sayings of the old nords, he was just guessing at things as his horse went leisurely on his way. Things had been bad for a month or maybe a year since their ranks began to weaken, and more and more brothers and sisters were dying under the arrows of enemies and the onslaught of war, which, by the way, they did not have to take part in. But who knows? Maybe the father of terror himself wants it that way.

The long columns of the forest stretched behind him as if they were five by five, the crowns of the old firs knew some secret, knew everyone who entered here. The forest tried to frighten the traveler, but he was unaware of the fact that the traveler himself exudes death, his footsteps are as hungry and silent as the first snow, and with his dagger he cuts not human threads of fate, but parchment.

Cicero was assigned to find the head of the bandits, who was hiding in the woods with his gang. In general, the customer did not have any requests, it was revenge for the ruined honor of another maiden, quite familiar plot, every second contract, which usually sent less experienced killers.

But now the affairs of the once powerful organization were going nowhere clear. The Listener was dead, which meant there was no one else to convey the will of their dead mistress. The Dark Brotherhood was cracking at the seams, cracking from the inside out, and when it would fall apart was only a matter of time, maybe a couple months. Cicero didn't want to think about such a thing, but with each contract he realized that either it was the end, or it was another ordeal after which their family would rise again. The man could no longer remember when he had taken something so humiliating…but turning his nose up at any chance to make money he simply couldn't.

“Damn the frost, O Sithis,” he muttered, adjusting his cheap, tattered cloak. “Let murder bring us glory at least, I don't care about the money! I can't stand the cold of the asylum anymore…I'll go to the brothel, yes definitely, I deserve it!” the assassin grinned to himself as he imagined his rest after this three day journey to the very north of the province. It had long been common knowledge that Cicero was not a fan of the cold! Even though Bruma Refuge was his ancestral nest, the place where he grew up, he clearly wouldn't want to return to the hum of harsh northerners and eternal frost.

But getting back to the contract, it had long been common knowledge that bandits hid either in ruined forts and castles, or in forests and caves, or preferably all at once. The man remembered how, in his youth, he and his friends had always gone into old forts on a dare, had escaped from ghosts a couple of times, had had to take an arrow from his shoulder a couple of times, and the penultimate time the old Listener had thrown boiling water on them. The head of the gang was called Broken Fang, and though the orc was awe-inspiring to any innkeeper, he had little intelligence, so his own men turned him over to the guards and other mercenaries, who were not particularly eager to talk to the stubborn orc. Cicero himself did not fully understand how he could be so confident, given that the beast was really strong. But as it turned out, Fang's own men were planning to get rid of him. He was on his way to a meeting place with a maiden who had something to give him, because Cicero did not plan to beat the orc directly, the best and oldest known way was to poison him.

A raven flew among the snowy branches, announcing with its loud cawing that an uninvited guest had arrived in the forest. The imp looked up disgruntledly for the bird, but found nothing but a haughty blue sky that threatened him with its cold. From his personal observations, it was the colder months that could be such a sky, clear as first blood but deceptive as shadows.

As he traveled on, he did not notice the cold expanse, the branches were always grabbing at his cloak, to which he only sighed unhappily. Now this trip seemed to him a distraction from what was happening in the dark family. Before, the silence of the cold walls of the asylum had sounds, there were echoes of training and old legends, the idea that the spokesmen from the stories walked here gave him hope that he could be one himself. But now, day after day, all he saw was discouragement, and while there were still plenty of those, there was hope.

But the mediator for the contract did not appear an hour or two later. Cicero was not a fan of waiting, he liked to do things quickly, without too much movement or fiddling. Now, he was nowhere to be found and the matter seemed to be irrevocably at an impasse.

“Khajiit, are you tricking me?” he pleaded to himself as he got off his horse. Standing here and freezing there was no point in standing here and freezing, even if the traitor had chickened out and decided to disappear, it didn't mean one had to give up everything now. He would kill him, and the e Night Mother would be happy for her son's success.

There was only one way to go now, it was getting dark, and he had to get to his destination faster, so without a moment's hesitation he moved towards the walls of the once old bastion. No, the camp was much farther away, the walls of the once great fortress had been a stronghold for traders and soldiers in the past, but now it was a ghost of the past, too distant. Brick, already shattered and crumbling, stung the feet of leather boots as the snow began to cover the road. The silence of the forest held a growing menace, the weather was deteriorating, this picture was like a trap closing its sharp tips towards the traveler, but it was an illusion, a ruse. Cicero does not smile, he is an experienced assassin and he is not young anymore, maybe it is a disadvantage, he could not and did not want to enjoy these snowy views, the branches, the snow on which was a shroud.

He felt as if someone was watching him. Through the white veil, the tangled trunks of spruce trees and the ledges of low hills, someone's heavy gaze followed him all the way. Someone's eyes, like a hungry wolf, were fixed on his back and ready to tear out his spine.

A raid? A setup after all? Or had the imperial soldiers gotten on the trail of a hapless member of the dying Dark Brotherhood? Cicero though he was cocky, even caustically arrogant at times, but over the years feelings of paranoia had also taken their toll, he's a child of the shadows, he's hiding to strike, so he really couldn't be wrong. And besides, who would think of prying into him in the first place? Certainly not a pickpocket, they just don't live here! He looked around frantically. There was nothing here. He must have taken it too seriously.

A branch crunched behind him, and the man snatched up his dagger and deftly stabbed the hilt into the soft body. A couple drops of scarlet blood immediately appeared on the snow, and a figure in a dark robe fell at his feet. The man wrapped in the cloak wanted to say something, but Cicero sealed him into the tree with all his might, making its trunk shudder, or the body of his pursuer.

The assassin was staring at him with a pair of blue eyes that darted back and forth, but his grip was firm and the man was too weak to fight him off. It was a boy of about fifteen, or maybe older, and his haggard face was a mess of healed and not so healed scars.

Apparently taking advantage of the man's confusion, the boy lunged forward and hit him with his forehead. Cicero's eyes went black from the blow.

-You son of a bitch! - he roared, not expecting such strength from this kid.

-I'm from Rashida,” the young man growled back, wiping away the blood. - Fang is dead.

Cicero stared at him dumbfounded as he staggered backward.

“Holy shit now…how is that dead? What the fuck is that?” the man scolded.

-Bastard…” he spat out and pointed the dagger at him. The boy jerked, but then he postured and glared at the assassin, -“Are you kidding me?

-No,” -he said, ‘we killed him today,’ he said in a muffled voice, ”I don't know what business you had with him, but he's dead now, choking on his own blood.

That the imp was shocked is not to say anything! After all, it's okay to lie to the customer, but on the other hand, what a shame! A disgrace to his career, a disgrace to his dark mother! He was overtaken by some stupid bandits.

-Why did they leave you behind? Were they stiffed for money? - Cicero said wryly, hiding his disappointment and confusion.

He was stared back by blue eyes, which burned him at the slightest movement. Though, if this wonder had been following him the whole way, his stealth talents weren't bad at all. Fuck it, if this little psycho wasn't lying, then we'd have to check it out.

Sighing heavily, and searching his pockets for gold, he tossed three coins directly onto the snow.

-Take me here.

The boy looked indifferently at the coins that fell at his feet and put his foot down and stomped on one of them. Then, looking at the man with his disfigured face, he turned toward the camp and silently walked there.

“Doing me a favor?” the man marveled to himself, and followed the boy, holding his blade at the ready. What should he do now? Should he finish the boy off? Snow was falling behind them, softly laying on their footprints, gradually covering them.

[worryingthing]

A small step

It had been on my list for weeks, months, maybe years. All of February was 20 degrees and windy, so there was no way I was doing it then. But then March came, and we had a sunny afternoon on a Saturday that quickly descended into a windy freezing evening, so I had to make the best of it during the daylight hours. We had a community meeting at the library next to my apartment for Access Oasis, the accessible community garden I'm a part of. I can't believe we're entering what is only our second year. It has already grown so much and attracted some really excellent people who are eager to join. I'm so impressed! Anyway the task at hand was going to be harrowing for a number of reasons: 1) noise. errant, erratic noise. 2) being seen carrying a guitar/instrument, nobody wants that. "Oh, can you play?" (no, I can play a baritone ukulele which is almost the same just minus the two base strings - NOBODY wants to hear that lol) 3) a kind of annoying walk, depending on the weather.

Anyway, I live in a part of Astoria that is not that far from some big box stores off Northern Boulevard. A friend had sent out a message about her making Paczksi for spring, so I briefly got to see my partner and some friends (one of whom wants to work with the garden! for a farmers market!!) at her place and have a donut and then I set off down 46th street towards, gulp, Guitar Center.

I don't know if I'll ever really get back to music after ~ everything ~ but I had done the research and I knew you could walk in and have an instrument serviced, in this case new strings and a tuning. I have a lefty Dan Electro 52 that is "Commie Red" and cost $420 exactly. I know, I fuckin know. The thing came wrapped in old high life beer boxes when I received it (as if from God), after I bought it used in like 2018. So the point is I never learned on this and then a string broke and in its case it sat and sat, waiting for me to summon the energy to do this fucking horrible errand.

Walking down 46th it is much colder than I anticipated because the wind has picked up drastically. The sun was already behind most of the buildings. That's March, in like a lion out like a lamb, you know. So I'm carrying this thing and I'm dreading it so much. I know it's going to suck, but I can reward myself with a trip to HMart (Korean/Chinese/Asian Mega grocery store) next door after and buy dumplings and ramen (which I did). The Guitar Center entrance is really as bad as it can be, just a weird escalator that goes up to a Chucky Cheese and then Guitar Center is to the left. It looks dead and I don't understand how anyone has the ability to work there. The aura is cursed and there is always a screaming/crying child on the escalator, which is a harrowing herald as you're about to enter a cavern of dudes who are noodling out the Nirvana/Radiohead songs over each other. It's so loud and erratic that I have to laugh at how bad it is for my nervous system that gets super overwhelmed by noise. Just a cacophony of drums and guitars and not in the fun way I like musically!!! Not in a fun way AT ALL.

Anyway, I'm there. The kid in the service area is nice to me and gets right to work on pulling off the old rusty strings. So far so good, I just have to wait maybe 5 minutes for this whole process. Behind me at the check out desk a man is yelling at the employees over some sort of charge error. We both clock this and share a smirk and I turn and stare at neon packages of guitar strings with beautiful 60s inspired curvy fonts. Clang, do do do do do do do, clang, crash, bwaaaa, and more Nirvana songs. I make the mistake of looking left towards the door and meet the eyes of a man entering carrying a case. In this instance two things are communicated instantly to me: oh fuck he's here for the exact same thing that I am, and it's visible (to me) that he's psyched that I (a woman) am trapped standing at the same place he is headed, and he IS going to try to make conversation with me. Worst case scenario.

I make my body posture as uninterested as it can seem, stare dead eyed at the walls of instruments. It's not like I'm looking super hot, I am 38 years old, tired, and dressed as comfortably as I can be in loose clothes and a jacket and hat. The guy at the checkout counter is still screaming at the employees this whole time. This man proceeds to inquire over and over again about the certification of the establishment to fix his specific brand of guitar. He is talking over the person fixing my guitar, as if it's his appointment. He is actively trying to make eye contact with me as if I have elected to be a part of this whole situation and am not merely just someone doing a personal errand alone. It gets worse, we're both southpaws. I guess I have to make eye contact for that incredible serendipity, because yes we all agree it really sucks to buy a left-handed guitar because there are never any models in stores to try. This is why mine came in the mail wrapped in beer boxes. I am actually right handed but I just play this way, nobody wants to know this and it's not a fact I offered up to this man or the guitar tech. Anyway, I'm just gob smacked that men have this audacity. I've aged out of being hit on in almost every single environment possible, which I guess is a blessing that I'm grateful for. But Still!! He was so loud and domineering the guitar tech was essentially like "alright my dude, I will help you, just let me finish this first".

Anyway, I'm glad I did the task but also surprised and amazed that it was exactly as bad and annoying, if not worse, than I anticipated it being. I often dread things so deeply and I am trying to work on shifting my attitude, but it's not always easy when you're right about how much things suck. A small step, though, what excuse do I have now?*

*Executive dysfunction, exhaustion, life in America, work, lack of self-motivation, lack of direction in choosing a way to restart lessons... maybe?

[moeblob]

You know what. Since I really can't spend my entire life drawing every fishing misfortune for Asmodeus♡ I think I'll tell you all some key points. To truly emphasize what I mean with bad RNG.

In Spring, 2 days in a row were raining. I fished nearly all of both days and failed to get a catfish. The next day I was able to buy a catfish from the traveling salesperson (for 1000g). Two days after buying the catfish for the community center, Linus sent me a letter saying thanks for being nice.... and gave me a catfish. Thanks.

Out of the requests I have had for fishing, I have to emphasize the fact Maru's request was honestly so aggressive it made me debate doing it. But. I had to. For the affection and money.

That is the most aggressive fish needing I have ever seen.

Spring 18 (one of the rainy days) I got a dinosaur egg from a treasure chest while fishing. I had no coop at the time. I still don't have a big coop. I cannot hatch the dino egg I caught in the rain over a month ago. It's just chilling in a storage chest in my house.

I had about a week without requests, figured I would just get fishing when they came back, and opted to upgrade my pick axe in the mean time. So, while fishing while the pick axe is upgrading, I figured MAY AS WELL EAT MY THREE CAVE CARROTS since what else am I spending stamina on.

The pick axe is completed! I see a new request! Sebastian wants a cave carrot. I'm going to commit murder. So I go to the mines and spend forever in there, barely getting home before I pass out in game. The next day I'm on my way BACK to the mines to do my best to get a cave carrot for Sebastian and pause in front of Pierre's.... because there's a new request. I know it. I know what it is. I look and yup! "I need a largemouth bass". I sigh and accept it for the next day. I fail the cave carrot quest which further plummets me into Town Fisher status. And after Sebastian's request expired, while I had Clint's active for the largemouth bass, Willy posts a request for "need to keep the fishing scene alive! please catch two largemouth bass". Both large mouth bass obtained + one handed over to Clint...

I sold a lot of fish to Willy over the course of the file and Elliott has since informed me that the anchovy he bought "had a unique taste. not sure where you got it." SIR FROM THE WATERS BY YOUR SHACK. SQUARE UP BUDDY.

(Harvey and Penny have also commented on my mediocre fish they bought from Willy. As if this is my fault they go for the low quality and NOT the iridium fish I've sold to him. Like this is MY FARMER'S FAULT that they don't know how to buy quality fish.)

It's not even fall yet and Asmo is fishing level 8. Still no big coop or barn but there has been a house upgrade recently. And Asmo bought a fish pond for his farm because may as well own up to being the town fisherman (he hates it here, he wants Pelican Town to adore him and it's now his life goal to make them all love him out of petty spite).

It's honestly been the funniest bad RNG I have ever experienced.

The one game file I make without a fish-named farmer. And this is what happens. Designated town fisher.

"Surely you don't HAVE to do all the fishing requests. You know this right?" Yeah but how else am I gonna make the town need my dumbass farmer if they don't need anything but fish! How will I make the town actually appreciate his talents if the only talent he has is fishing!

Also somehow I still don't have any rings on Asmo. Like I usually get a glow ring or something while going down the mines but I am at level 30 and there have been zero rings obtained. I think I have to actually go do the night fishing bundle to get a glow ring WHICH IS HILARIOUSLY .... fishing. This is truly the only logical solution for the file so I shoulda seen it coming. Gotta wait for Fall though in order to complete that bundle.

[metaphorical-goblin]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag @aawrightworth!

1. How many works do you have on A03? 31!

2. What's your total A03 word count? 259,660! ...woah

3. What fandoms do you write for? Mostly Ace Attorney! Though I do have another published fic for Dungeons and Daddies, and a couple more WIPs for other fandoms in the future

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Woo fun!

The Things We Agree to Believe are True

Double Date

Taking the Lead (NSFW)

The Essential Guide to Avian Development

And I Will Stay with You Through Spring (NSFW)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? *Yes,* absolutely! Honestly, comments (and responding to them) are probably one of my favorite parts of actually publishing fic. I get a lot of joy from writing them, but seeing and hearing from other people that liked them too, or share the same headcanons? *chef's kiss*

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Honestly, probably my most recent one, Her Brother's Keeper. I don't typically write "bad ending" fics, so this one was definitely a big step for me haha

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Again, most of the things I write have happy endings, so this is hard 😂

I personally really love it when "the war is over" and they can finally just get married and be CHILL so I'd have to say either "The Things We Agree to Believe are True" or "The Essential Guide to Avian Development."

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really, thankfully! I've had a couple comments from John Phoenix here and there but I don't take it personally.

9. Do you write smut? Sometimes! I have a bad habit of writing smut that Must Have 10K Words of Prelude First, and while I am trying to "break" that habit, I actually really enjoy a story to go with it!

10. Do you write crossovers? I actually did write one for the Wright Anything Zine a few months ago! Of course, it was DnDads x Ace Attorney, and I... need to publish it lol

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh goodness, not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No I haven't! I haven't had much of anything with that much traction though, but it would be cool in the future!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I would love to! I was actually talking through it with a friend a while back.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Of course I love Narumitsu, but I don't know if it's my "all time favorite..." I'm not sure what it is off the top of my head!

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Ironically enough, it's also the first Ace Attorney fic I ever wrote! It's a farmer Phoenix AU in which Miles also has amnesia, and over the course of his recovery they of course fall in love (dawwww). I would also love to add more to the Elfworth series! I have. His whole life planned out lol

16. What are your writing strengths? To be honest, I'm not completely sure! I like to think I can come up with original plots or ideas, but I know I still have a lot of work to do.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Sometimes I have some trouble connecting my points or writing "effective" scenes, amongst other things. (dang now these questions are making me want to keep up with this...)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don't do it too often! Typically if I do include it, I'll either use something that is very common knowledge or provide a translation in the author's notes. Having said that, I've written some unpublished stuff for Avian AU where Phoenix and his mother are talking, and in *that* case I just wrote the dialogue in English with a clarification that they are speaking a different language. I'm always so nervous about getting a translation wrong though lol

19. First fandom you wrote for? Ohh man. Probably My Little Pony or Minecraft to be honest. Don't ask; you'll never see them and they're written in missing notebooks anyway 😂

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? AHH THIS IS SO HARD! I love a lot of my fics just so so much. I absolutely adore Avians and the Elfworth series, just because I love writing AUs and coming up with lore and everything. I also really really enjoy Kindergarten Cop and Great Big Leaps because I love writing little kids and how they act because they make me laugh.

I think overall, though, my most favorite would have to be "The Things We Agree to Believe Are True." It was fun, experimental, and just a really euphoric way to write a new story as I was getting through my senior year. I had a blast with it, and I'm always so thankful that it got so much support, as well!

Feel free to ignore the tags if you like (I know I'm hopping on this a little late lol), but answer if you feel like it! @kbots @edwirdon (and also just a blanket tag for anyone that might feel like answering!)

[jynjackets]

I just tried to garden this past week as the main reason for my hiatus. And i literally feel like an 1800s farmer sweating under the direct sun for 8+ hours with no tools invented and only a dog as my helper.

-My apartment came with a first floor backyard which was really a blessing I never utilized. So step one was lawn care for my dog. Everyday I’m hauling dirt, grass seed, pots etc. from everywhere what I can find for free/cheap on Craigslist. Then I’m killing weeds, pulling that’s shit from the root because that was cheaper than a ton of chemicals that could hurt my son since he eats everything he lays his eyes on. Aerating this shit (poking holes for fucking grass to grow from the ground, so EVERYWHERE) with a goddamn kitchen fork because I don’t want to buy tools for this one use but I NEED to get it done. And then planting seeds and fertilizer to get it growing.

-I totally forgot, the real step one was picking up like two years worth of my dog’s shit. The yard was such a blessing also because whenever I couldn’t or was too lazy to take my dog out to poop I just left yard open for him to go out. And the lawn is like literally just a lawn of shit. It’s everywhere. He just goes outside when he wants and poops twice a day out there. You can’t even do anything with the poops, they don’t go in the compost or anything and are kind of bad for the environment so I couldn’t even leave it there. The little poop bags that are biodegradable it doesn’t even matter because you have to put the whole thing in the trash but I guess instead of plastic and poop in the landfill it’s just poop. It’s all just so odd to me.

-Anyways so I’m shopping for fertilizer and I’m like, this is just dirt, why would I buy dirt and scrap when I can make it.

-And so THEN, I get inspired to start a compost bin. I get hardware supplies and follow a YouTube video to make a tumbling compost bin that basically makes fertilizer FOR FREE. (That literally took me so much work holy shit.) It’s not done because it has to decompose for like a month so I can’t even use it yet. But yay environment. Environmentalism by the individual is the weakest attempt at social justice because the issue lives with rich corporations that do more damage than the masses combined. Pathetic movements to be more environmentally conscientious disproportionately affect the lower class and people with disabilities by increasing taxes and limiting options and services like plastic straws for example for a population already living among systems and structures designed to their disadvantage.

-Step two was to just grow some flowers! And not veggies because last time I tried to grow onions from one of those fabric bags and got so sick after eating them. maybe because there was hella moss growing around it idk tho

-I’m planting these sunflowers and they’re chilling and incubating before the winter so they pop out by spring HOPEFULLY. After I planted them I found out the difference between annuals and perennials and said what the fuck the perennials are kinda ugly like you don’t gift someone just some snapdragons and wimpy zinnias like. So next year I might replant or switch it up so they can grow themselves, depends how tired I am by that time.

-My bad for trying to do this on a strict budget by converting everything into manual labor but this was fun. My son likes to eat grass so hopefully this was all worth it lmao.

[qnbofficial]

old kinktober wip

taga: make up sex, bottom q (ik burn me at the stake)

Quackity clicks through the channels on his TV. He'd just plopped down on his couch after getting home from work, but for whatever reason, his usual routine of mindless, endless scrolling until his eyes hurt too badly to stay open wasn't appealing to him tonight. Nothing was, really. There was nothing interesting to be seen on TV. Even the nature documentaries and shitty reality shows weren't holding his attention or distracting him from the thoughts constantly swirling in his mind.

It's been a couple months since Techno left. Quackity likes to think he's adjusted. No one had come to grab what remained of Techno's stuff, so at some point he decided to just throw it in whatever box he could find. He didn't cry. He didn't when he packed up the massive jars of honey Techno seemed to habitually collect from the farmer's market, memories of sticky kisses and lectures on the importance of good honey for good tea filling his thoughts. He didn't when he folded up and put away the soft sheets they'd picked out for the new, bigger bed-- they'd needed it to accommodate the both of them. He especially didn't cry when he realized just how much of his apartment was covered in Techno's plants, a sort of compromise for living somewhere without space for a garden.

Quackity was doing fine. He would even venture to say he was doing great. He was working, taking night classes, working more, and eating takeout for dinner every night. The only times he didn't were when he woke up in someone else's home after a bad night of trying to drink and fuck away all the problems he didn't have. Sure, the trash was starting to pile up again because he couldn't muster the energy to deal with it. Maybe every available surface of his home was covered in unopened letters, random trinkets, and useless impulse buys. He was still fine.

"And that's when I said, honey, those are my *car keys*!" An annoying laugh track sounds from the TV's speakers. Some extremely dated variety comedy show dances on its screen. Quackity sighs. Every time he closed his eyes, the thoughts only became harder to ignore. Even though he'd gone through the effort of changing his mattress and box spring to a bed more suitable for a single person, it'd barely seen any use. His couch had become his semi-permanent residence, and it showed.

Quackity looks down at his coffee table. Dirty napkins, empty and not-so-empty takeout boxes, a few remotes and controllers for his appliances, and his phone lay on its surface. The always-on-screen feature helpfully showed the time: 11:47pm. Quackity sighs again and resigns himself to channel surfing until morning.

Then, his doorbell rings.

Surprised, Quackity looks up in the direction of his front door. He can't see it from here. Nothing else happens for a few seconds, and he doesn't hear any other noises from outside, so he ignores it and turns his bleary eyes back on his TV.

Then, another ring.

Either some persistent kids really want to ding-dong-ditch him, or someone is actually at his door. The temptation to continue ignoring it rises within him, but the thought occurs that it might be his landlord or someone else important. That realization causes anxiety to start bubbling up in him, enough that he finally gets up to answer it.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he halfheartedly shouts, unable to summon enough energy to project his voice. His body feels heavy, and every step he makes away from his sectional sanctuary makes him regret this whole decision. He could've just texted his landlord to ask if they were at the door, or better yet, pretended to be asleep like any normal person would be at this hour.

He doesn't bother to look through the peephole. He just unlocks it, steps back to open it, looks up, and... and it's Techno.

It's Techno. Techno is standing in front of him.

Quackity stares.

"Uh... hullo?" Techno tries. Quackity continues to stare. "I'm here to... pick up... my stuff?" He doesn't even sound sure of what he's doing here himself, which would be hilarious if not for the hard reboot Quackity's brain is currently undertaking.

Has he ever hallucinated Techno? Well, not really, but there have been times when he thought he heard an amused, gravelly voice calling his behavior into question, or seen a flash of pink hair in the corner of his vision. It was never like this though. For one, his hair wasn't pink anymore, which was a first.

"What happened to your hair?" Quackity blurts out all at once, word-vomit spilling from his mouth down onto the floor between them. Techno, for his part, looks confused, taken aback, and deathly nervous.

"Uh, it grew out and I haven't redyed it. I didn't really... want t'do it by myself. Since ya always helped me with that." Techno reaches up to rub the back of his neck. It requires him to brush his hair off his shoulder, a movement that draws Quackity's eyes in a way it really shouldn't anymore.

Silence. Quackity doesn't know what to do with himself.

"Could you get Wilbur or your dad to help you or something?"

"..." Techno is pulling at the edge of his shirt. Fidgeting. A nervous habit Quackity immediately clocks. "I prefer it when you do it."

This is painfully awkward. They're both just standing in Quackity's doorway. The sounds of the city at night pour into Quackity's apartment from behind Techno. Cars, mostly. Techno's face twists in that way it does when he's doing something particularly unpleasant.

"Are ya gonna let me in, or...?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry," Quackity mutters. He steps back once, twice, then three times before there's enough space for Techno to actually walk into his apartment. He crosses the threshold between outside and in, and Quackity closes the door behind him, cutting off the sound of tires on asphalt. The sounds of the TV can clearly be heard from the living room.

"You're here to get your stuff right? Yeah, you said that. I tried to pack it up, I got most of it, I think, but there's some stuff-- just, uh. Some things I didn't know if you considered them *yours* or not. And your plants," Quackity says quickly. His words are still jumbled, spilling over each other and mixing into muddled sentences and rambles. Techno still understands him perfectly fine.

The box with Techno's things is shoved away in Quackity's bedroom closet. He only stores clothes he rarely wears in there, so he figured it was a fine place for them to be until someone came to get them. He also didn't particularly want to look at it all, piled up like things to be thrown away.

He leads the way, and Techno follows. They walk in silence. There are no comments about the state of his apartment or the state of *him*. Quackity can still feel the other man's eyes on the back of his head. He opens the door to his bedroom and pretends like the massive empty space his twin bed sits in doesn't stick out to him more than ever, instead pivoting to point directly at the closet.

"The stuff I picked up is in there. Everything you can't find in there, should be right where you left it, so..." Quackity trails off, because even he didn't know where he was going with that. So... what? That's it? He sits down on his bed, watching as Techno walks over to the closet and opens the simple doors.

Quackity expects him to just pick up the box, or at the very least move it out of the closet, but nothing happens. Techno doesn't move. "Um. Is something wrong?" Quackity ventures.

"I know you said that you didn't grab some stuff but... there's just this, one box? And it doesn't have the majority of my stuff in it," Techno says, awkwardness lining his voice like he didn't even intend to bring it up.

"Ah, yeah. I only had one box." Techno looks at him strangely.

"You could've used somethin' else."

"Yeah, I could've." Defensiveness laps at Quackity's words. He bites his tongue. He's not going to start a fight.

"So... why didn't you?"

"...Great question. I'll let you know when I figure it out," Quackity sighs, and flops backwards onto his bed. The sheets smell clean. He closes his eyes. He's so tired. There's sounds of shuffling, probably Techno finally moving his single box out. At least, that's what Quackity thought was happening, but when he opens his eyes again, instead of seeing his hideous popcorn ceiling, he sees Technoblade leaning over him.

"Quackity." Techno is leveling him with a stare. His eyes lock onto Quackity's. It feels unreasonably intense, maybe because Techno rarely makes direct eye contact like this.

"Technoblade?"

"I... I didn't come here to get my stuff." He sounds hesitant, even as he continues to watch Quackity closely. It's like he's trying to gauge Quackity's reaction, and he seems increasingly confused at the lack of one.

"Oh, awesome," Quackity intones. He's not even sure what Techno wants him to say, in this situation. It's taking all of his mental effort just to hold it together when he was so sure he was facing another miserable night alone with his TV. Techno coming over to do... whatever this is, it's almost too much, like an unfunny joke that keeps going long after the audience has left.

"I came t'talk t'you, about us," Techno continues, a lilt to his tone like he thinks this should be obvious. Quackity bites back the urge to be an asshole about it. Techno probably thinks he's acting like this because he didn't realize it already. Quackity knows, though. He knows what Techno wants, and that's why he has to try so hard to school his expression into something neutral. It's even worse knowing that Techno is watching him.

"Great." Techno's brows furrow. Quackity hates how badly he wants to reach out and trace the wrinkles that form. He wants to touch Techno in general, actually, run his hands down his body, hold him tightly so that he couldn't get away even if he wanted to. He blinks up at Techno. It's hard to watch him become obviously frustrated with him, even if he's doing it on purpose. Techno probably knows it's on purpose, and that's why he's getting upset.

"Can ya take this seriously, please?" It's edging into his voice now, the irritation and annoyance. How characteristic of Quackity to make even an attempt at reconciliation as difficult as possible.

"I am. Dead serious. What I'm wondering is, what is there left to talk about? You said you weren't coming back, and yet here you are. I apologized and pretty much condemned myself to fucking off forever, and yet."

"Yup, I said that, and you did that. I know that." Techno huffs out a sigh, finally breaking eye contact with Quackity to pinch the bridge of his nose. That one's new. He's pretty sure Techno didn't do that before.

"But you don't wanna give up on me, so you've come to forgive me for my sins and take me back, right? Sunk cost fallacy and all that," Quackity says dismissively, bluntly. This seems to set Techno off more than anything else he's said so far. He frowns deeply, his look of disapproval apparent even from the weird angle Quackity is looking up at him from.

"Do ya *have* t'be such a smart ass?"

"I thought you liked me like that."

"Q, can you fuckin' stop already?"

"Stop what? Telling the truth? How many times have we done this? How many chances have you given me? When are you gonna stop pretending like I'm gonna get better and just kick my ass to the curb permanently already? I'm sure Wilbur's probably told you enough horror stories about me to fill a fucking epic. So why? Why do you even bother? Why do you keep fucking coming back? Why--"

Quackity is cut off suddenly as Techno pulls him up by his collar and kisses him. He's so taken aback by it he doesn't even kiss back before Techno's pulling away. He doesn't go far, only hovering a few inches in front of Quackity's shocked face. "W-wh..."

"I keep comin' back because I fuckin' love you, dumbass," Techno hisses, anger simmering in his expression. "And I hate t'see you destroyin' yourself like this. I don't know if you've convinced yourself this is what I want or what, but this is exactly the problem. Ya always rush to conclusions and shut me out." Techno lets go of Quackity's collar, and Quackity falls back against his bed like a pile of bricks.

"I *love* you, alright? I love you, Quackity. I'm not going t'just ignore it while you ruin your life tryin' t'punish yourself. I don't want ta be painted as some victim being taken advantage of, and you're not doin' anythin' t'me, either. I'm here because I want t'be. Because I want ta be with you. When will ya fuckin' *get* that?" Techno's angry, but somehow it doesn't feel directed at Quackity. He's not insulting him, not name calling, this doesn't even feel like an argument. It just feels like Techno's pleading with him to stop doing what he's doing right now. It makes Quackity's chest hurt.

"I'm not even... I'm doing fine. I'm not ruining anyt--"

"Did you forget how long we've been together? Or do you just think I'm stupid?" Techno's voice is flat, and Quackity burns with shame. Of course Techno would see through that paper thin lie he's been telling himself. Going to work and doing nothing else wasn't how he was before Techno left. He knows he's doing badly.

"Of course not."

"Then stop with the bullshit. Quackity..." Techno's hand comes up again, this time to gently cup Quackity's face. "I know bein' vulnerable doesn't come easily t'ya. Trust me when I say it took a lot for me to even come, because I... I don't like facing things like this. But I couldn't just leave you," Techno mutters, his voice low like he's afraid they might be overheard. With how close they are, the words still sound too loud for Quackity. It's too much. His heart feels like it might rip in two.

"Techno..." Quackity's voice quivers as he utters the other man's name, desperately wishing to withdraw inside himself. Something is wrong with him. How did he manage to get someone this caring, this loving? What had he ever done to deserve someone like Techno in his life? The shame and embarrassment builds in him, heavy in his stomach. Techno is looking at him so gently, and speaking to him so softly. He still holds Quackity like they're lovers. Even with just a hand on his face, he can feel the love and care in it.

"I want to make this work. Do you?"

"I... I don't deserve you. I- I ... I can't watch you be hurt because of me. Because I can't stop acting like a child."

"I can handle it. Last time was... bad, yeah. But ya apologized. And clearly you regret it. Why would I hold that against ya?"

"Just because I didn't mean it doesn't make it okay!"

"Do you remember that time we went t'the movies? It was one ya really wanted t'see, and I fell asleep during it."

"...Yeah. I was really upset because I really wanted to watch it with you. We got into an argument."

"I said 'who cares about some stupid movie' and ya didn't talk t'me for the rest of the day. I got defensive about it at first, but then I realized how inconsiderate I was bein', and when I apologized, didn't ya forgive me?"

"Yeah."

"So do ya think ya shouldn't have?"

"But it was important t'ya. Even though I didn't realize at the time, the things I said didn't reflect how I actually felt. I never wanted t'make you feel like a nuisance or that I didn't care about you."

"No, of course not. It was a stupid argument in the first place..."

This time, when Techno kisses him, Quackity is more than prepared to kiss back. In fact, he's maybe a little too ethusiastic about it, wrapping his arms around the other man's shoulders and pulling him down into the bed. Techno half shouts in surprise, but goes willingly, squeezing into the tiny space with Quackity.

"Y'know, if I knew this was gonna happen, I definitely wouldn't have changed the bed," Quackity says, unable to keep the smile out of his voice. Techno laughs, completely unoffended by it. The sound of it soothes Quackity even more, in ways he didn't even know he could be soothed. It's all so nice, so comfortable, so familiar.

"Lack of space has never stopped us before," he says, and Quackity can't help but agree and laugh too. Their lips meet again, deeper this time, and Quackity lets his fingers tangle in Techno's hair, wrapping his ponytail around his hand. He doesn't offer any warning before tugging, forcing Techno's head back so he can pepper kisses along his jaw and neck. He can feel Techno's pulse against his lips, feel the way it picks up as he moves further down.

"Ah, Q..." Techno sighs, and Quackity can't help but press forward, chasing the desire he'd kept buried for far too long. He licks up Techno's neck, tracing the contours of his skin with his tongue. Techno shudders underneath him, a reaction Quackity knows. Techno's always been easy to read in situations like this; it was like all that nonchalance he normally shows just melts away under Quackity's touch. Just like him, Quackity got addicted to it too easily too.

"Tell me, Tech, did you ever get *lonely* while we were apart? Missing me so badly you couldn't help but try and relieve it?" Quackity mutters, letting his free hand wander down Techno's chest. The simple button up he was wearing was all that stood between him and getting an eye-full of Techno's body. It was all too easy to take it off.

"Mhm, missed ya so much, Q," Techno hums, leaning back further into Quackity's grip on his hair. "Couldn't even... ah!" Techno lets out a small noise of surprise as Quackity rubs his one of his nipples with his thumb.

"Couldn't what? Couldn't cum without me? Or did it not feel as good knowing I wasn't watching you get off? I know you like an audience," Quackity smirks, guiding Techno up by his hair. It helps that he's following Quackity's lead, adjusting into a kneeling position straddling Quackity's waist. Techno blushes hard at his words, only cementing the truth of them in Quackity's mind. "You're so cute," he coos, and Techno swats at him halfheartedly.

"S-stop doin' that when you know I can't fight back," Techno whines, and Quackity just laughs. He can tell that Techno's already starting to get desperate. Still, Quackity wants to touch him, after being denied this for so long, all he wants to do is run his hands over Techno untl he's memorized every plane, curve, and divot over and over again. So he grabs at Techno's sides, feeling the way his skin twitches at the sudden contact, then drags his hands up to Techno's pecs, giving them a healthy squeeze before travelling downwards, running his fingertips over his abs.

"I love you, y'know. I know I didn't say it back earlier, but I really do. I love you." Now it's Quackity's turn to blush, but he needs to say it no matter how embarrassed he might feel about it. Techno deserves to know his feelings are reciprocated, that Quackity wants him just as badly.

"Don't be sappy while I'm hard, it's gross," Techno pouts. Quackity snorts in response, taking his time with feeling up Techno's chest. Despite his words, Techno still gasps when Quackity circles his nipples with his thumb.

"You're *such* an asshole." Quackity pulls Techno down, pressing their lips together once again. He brings his hands up around Techno's head, pulling the tie that was keeping it up in a messy ponytail. He tugs hard, not hard enough to pull Techno away from him but to make him strain. Techno moans openly into his mouth, already needy.

"You're topping tonight," Quackity says quickly, getting the words out before he second guesses them. He relaxes his grip, letting Techno's hair fall around them.

"A-are you sure? Not that I don't want to , it's just, you've never wanted to before, and --"

"Techno. I wouldn't be saying it if I didn't mean it, okay? I... I trust you. "

[cleverhottubmiracle]

Mara Reinstein has become many things in her 40ish years—a writer, film critic, satellite radio host, world traveler, friend, auntie—but one thing she never longed to be called was “mom.” Hear what it’s like to choose to defy the greatest enduring expectation of women in this month’s “Life with the Girls.”  Mara on a stoop of her own I plopped down at the cozy corner booth expecting a long-awaited catch-up dinner with a former coworker. I didn’t realize it would be an intervention with a side of bread. “You really need to freeze your eggs, Mara,” Leslie instructed me while the menus were still on the table. “It’s for your own good. By the time you realize you want to be a mother, it will be too late.” Leslie had been struggling with fertility issues, so I know she had the best intentions. That’s why I listened and nodded politely and deftly attempted to change the subject. I just didn’t have the heart to reply with the thought that instantly formed in my brain: “Look, I know I’m only 36, but that’s not happening. I’d rather spend all that money on my next trip to Europe.” Now that I’m in my mid-40s, I can say it proudly and hopefully without judgment from others: Motherhood is not for me. That’s a hard pass on cleaning up bodily fluids, helping with homework, running a kitchen, waking up before dawn and having the patience of a farmer in the spring all for the sake of being called “mom.” That’s just the small stuff! In the big picture, I do not want to be a primary caregiver who’s responsible 24/7 in perpetuity for any life that is not my own. I can’t even commit to raising a Chihuahua, let alone a child. [perfectpullquote align=”right” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]”I can’t even commit to raising a Chihuahua, let alone a child”[/perfectpullquote] Mine is not a sorrowful, she-must-have-been-raised-in-a-broken-home story. I grew up addicted to ’80s sitcoms like Family Ties, Growing Pains and Happy Days because these shows mirrored my own goofy, good-natured suburban family. Baby rain or shine, all the time, we got each other, sharing the laughter and love, blah blah, blah. As such, I always assumed (dare I say was programmed?) that I would follow the prototypical path of settling down in a leafy neighborhood at an appropriate age and raise cute, wisecracking kids. I’d be the can-do, caring mom with a career and a mortgage. Looking back, I can’t pinpoint the defining moment when that plan took a hard left. Certainly, moving to Manhattan straight out of college was a surefire sign that I wasn’t going to immediately follow in my mom’s sensible-loafer footsteps. But many of my friends also started out in shoebox-size apartments and now set several places at the kitchen table. I unofficially started reprioritizing when I logged ridiculously long hours as a staffer at a weekly celebrity magazine throughout my 20s. While my friends felt a sense of maternal duty waking up at 3 AM for bottle feedings and bad-dream reassurances, I felt a surge of adrenaline closing a breaking-news story at the same hour on a deadline night. It’s fair to conclude I was more comfortable writing about Angelina Jolie’s expanding family than starting my own. Becoming an aunt in my 30s cemented my position. I obsessed over my adorable nephew, Ryan, flying back to Michigan every chance I could get just to rock him for a few hours. I was there when he lost his first tooth and blew out his first birthday candles. But when his shit almost literally hit the fan, I yelled for my brother and sister-in-law and high-tailed it into the next room. He cried all the time, drowning out the sound of my biological clock. I wanted no part of this side of parenthood. As a special upside, Ryan and I bonded big time because I was the cool auntie who treated him like a prince and never punished him with time-outs. To this day, Ryan—as well as my niece, Leah—runs into my arms and gives me a huge hug when I walk into a room. He doesn’t even look up from his phone to make eye contact with his parents when they do the same. Even better, I get to maintain my blessedly independent life. I continue to keep strange, strenuous hours, often sitting in front of my laptop well past midnight. I’m prone to taking disturbingly long naps on Saturday afternoons after going on my 6-mile runs or bike rides. I still eat cereal for dinner when I’m too lazy to pick up takeout or turn on my stove. I check my phone like a madwoman because I’m a freelancer, scared to miss an email. In non-pandemic times, I’m a one-person mobile unit who travels almost every other weekend both for work reasons and mini getaways: The woman who checks in passengers at the Delta Airlines Sky Club lounge at LaGuardia Airport knows me. I’ve been to the South Pacific 11 times since 2004. Last year, I seriously dated a guy who didn’t even live in the tri-state area. I realize it all may sound deeply idiosyncratic, chaotic and peculiar. But it’s the existence I built for myself, and I love it more days than not. Nowhere in that description does a child fit in and, frankly, I’m not willing to sacrifice it. Some may call it selfish; I call it knowing myself to the highest degree and accepting myself for it. On bad days, I admit that I can fall into the trap of seeing photos on social media and believing that everyone from my distant cousins to the girls in my high-school French class are living their best lives because they became domesticated. Look at them raising munchkins dressing up for their first days of school! And saying precious, hilarious things! And celebrating fun milestones galore! I know most of them are truly happy, but I also know that happiness is not a one-size-fits-all proposition. I want to watch a Broadway show, not sit through a marathon dance recital. I want to go out and party for hours on New Year’s Eve, not debate when to come home and figure out what’s for breakfast the next day. Just kidding: What I really want to be able to do is stay in and sleep until 11 AM. And I can. The craziness that is COVID-19 has only underscored my feelings. In 2020, it seemed like all the fun benefits of parenthood were stripped away. What’s left during such a tenuous time? It looked to me like the stress of also serving as a teacher, disciplinarian, IT expert, doctor, short-order cook and chauffeur on a budget, with no breaks. I can’t fathom it and hold the highest respect for everyone enduring it. That includes my own parents, who let their middle-aged daughter hunker down with them for six months while New York City remained a hot spot. One night, I was so sick to my stomach that my mom ran out to Costco at an ungodly hour to buy me extra-strength Pepto Bismol, as if it weren’t obvious to me before that parenthood has no finish line. There’s a line in Sex and the City that I think about a lot. It’s one of the final episodes, when Carrie and Charlotte, now both 38, are at a playground discussing their futures. Charlotte is convinced that her friend is going to be a mom soon and is just waiting for the right guy to come along. Carrie replies with an admission: “If I really wanted to have a baby, wouldn’t I have tried to have one by now? I wanted to be a writer, I made myself a writer. If I want a ridiculously extravagant pair of shoes, I find a way to buy them.” That’s what I really should have told Leslie in that booth. Fact is, I lack maternal instinct. It doesn’t make me any less fulfilled or complete. I’m still compassionate, wise, nurturing and a fantastic babysitter. The big difference is that I then get to go home to my own place, fix a bowl of cereal and enjoy the silence. Source link

[norajworld]

Mara Reinstein has become many things in her 40ish years—a writer, film critic, satellite radio host, world traveler, friend, auntie—but one thing she never longed to be called was “mom.” Hear what it’s like to choose to defy the greatest enduring expectation of women in this month’s “Life with the Girls.”  Mara on a stoop of her own I plopped down at the cozy corner booth expecting a long-awaited catch-up dinner with a former coworker. I didn’t realize it would be an intervention with a side of bread. “You really need to freeze your eggs, Mara,” Leslie instructed me while the menus were still on the table. “It’s for your own good. By the time you realize you want to be a mother, it will be too late.” Leslie had been struggling with fertility issues, so I know she had the best intentions. That’s why I listened and nodded politely and deftly attempted to change the subject. I just didn’t have the heart to reply with the thought that instantly formed in my brain: “Look, I know I’m only 36, but that’s not happening. I’d rather spend all that money on my next trip to Europe.” Now that I’m in my mid-40s, I can say it proudly and hopefully without judgment from others: Motherhood is not for me. That’s a hard pass on cleaning up bodily fluids, helping with homework, running a kitchen, waking up before dawn and having the patience of a farmer in the spring all for the sake of being called “mom.” That’s just the small stuff! In the big picture, I do not want to be a primary caregiver who’s responsible 24/7 in perpetuity for any life that is not my own. I can’t even commit to raising a Chihuahua, let alone a child. [perfectpullquote align=”right” bordertop=”false” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]”I can’t even commit to raising a Chihuahua, let alone a child”[/perfectpullquote] Mine is not a sorrowful, she-must-have-been-raised-in-a-broken-home story. I grew up addicted to ’80s sitcoms like Family Ties, Growing Pains and Happy Days because these shows mirrored my own goofy, good-natured suburban family. Baby rain or shine, all the time, we got each other, sharing the laughter and love, blah blah, blah. As such, I always assumed (dare I say was programmed?) that I would follow the prototypical path of settling down in a leafy neighborhood at an appropriate age and raise cute, wisecracking kids. I’d be the can-do, caring mom with a career and a mortgage. Looking back, I can’t pinpoint the defining moment when that plan took a hard left. Certainly, moving to Manhattan straight out of college was a surefire sign that I wasn’t going to immediately follow in my mom’s sensible-loafer footsteps. But many of my friends also started out in shoebox-size apartments and now set several places at the kitchen table. I unofficially started reprioritizing when I logged ridiculously long hours as a staffer at a weekly celebrity magazine throughout my 20s. While my friends felt a sense of maternal duty waking up at 3 AM for bottle feedings and bad-dream reassurances, I felt a surge of adrenaline closing a breaking-news story at the same hour on a deadline night. It’s fair to conclude I was more comfortable writing about Angelina Jolie’s expanding family than starting my own. Becoming an aunt in my 30s cemented my position. I obsessed over my adorable nephew, Ryan, flying back to Michigan every chance I could get just to rock him for a few hours. I was there when he lost his first tooth and blew out his first birthday candles. But when his shit almost literally hit the fan, I yelled for my brother and sister-in-law and high-tailed it into the next room. He cried all the time, drowning out the sound of my biological clock. I wanted no part of this side of parenthood. As a special upside, Ryan and I bonded big time because I was the cool auntie who treated him like a prince and never punished him with time-outs. To this day, Ryan—as well as my niece, Leah—runs into my arms and gives me a huge hug when I walk into a room. He doesn’t even look up from his phone to make eye contact with his parents when they do the same. Even better, I get to maintain my blessedly independent life. I continue to keep strange, strenuous hours, often sitting in front of my laptop well past midnight. I’m prone to taking disturbingly long naps on Saturday afternoons after going on my 6-mile runs or bike rides. I still eat cereal for dinner when I’m too lazy to pick up takeout or turn on my stove. I check my phone like a madwoman because I’m a freelancer, scared to miss an email. In non-pandemic times, I’m a one-person mobile unit who travels almost every other weekend both for work reasons and mini getaways: The woman who checks in passengers at the Delta Airlines Sky Club lounge at LaGuardia Airport knows me. I’ve been to the South Pacific 11 times since 2004. Last year, I seriously dated a guy who didn’t even live in the tri-state area. I realize it all may sound deeply idiosyncratic, chaotic and peculiar. But it’s the existence I built for myself, and I love it more days than not. Nowhere in that description does a child fit in and, frankly, I’m not willing to sacrifice it. Some may call it selfish; I call it knowing myself to the highest degree and accepting myself for it. On bad days, I admit that I can fall into the trap of seeing photos on social media and believing that everyone from my distant cousins to the girls in my high-school French class are living their best lives because they became domesticated. Look at them raising munchkins dressing up for their first days of school! And saying precious, hilarious things! And celebrating fun milestones galore! I know most of them are truly happy, but I also know that happiness is not a one-size-fits-all proposition. I want to watch a Broadway show, not sit through a marathon dance recital. I want to go out and party for hours on New Year’s Eve, not debate when to come home and figure out what’s for breakfast the next day. Just kidding: What I really want to be able to do is stay in and sleep until 11 AM. And I can. The craziness that is COVID-19 has only underscored my feelings. In 2020, it seemed like all the fun benefits of parenthood were stripped away. What’s left during such a tenuous time? It looked to me like the stress of also serving as a teacher, disciplinarian, IT expert, doctor, short-order cook and chauffeur on a budget, with no breaks. I can’t fathom it and hold the highest respect for everyone enduring it. That includes my own parents, who let their middle-aged daughter hunker down with them for six months while New York City remained a hot spot. One night, I was so sick to my stomach that my mom ran out to Costco at an ungodly hour to buy me extra-strength Pepto Bismol, as if it weren’t obvious to me before that parenthood has no finish line. There’s a line in Sex and the City that I think about a lot. It’s one of the final episodes, when Carrie and Charlotte, now both 38, are at a playground discussing their futures. Charlotte is convinced that her friend is going to be a mom soon and is just waiting for the right guy to come along. Carrie replies with an admission: “If I really wanted to have a baby, wouldn’t I have tried to have one by now? I wanted to be a writer, I made myself a writer. If I want a ridiculously extravagant pair of shoes, I find a way to buy them.” That’s what I really should have told Leslie in that booth. Fact is, I lack maternal instinct. It doesn’t make me any less fulfilled or complete. I’m still compassionate, wise, nurturing and a fantastic babysitter. The big difference is that I then get to go home to my own place, fix a bowl of cereal and enjoy the silence. Source link