#i am anxious because i need to respond to some emails and deal with some student loans stuff that i've been putting off

[bluesidedown]

hnnnnnnnnngggggggg

[copperbadge]

What do you mean by digital cleaning?

It's something I've been working on more this year because I had a bit more travel than usual so couldn't do actual home cleaning, but I always take a couple of days in the Month Of Cleaning where I'm focused on my digital life. It's good to make your physical home a comfortable place for yourself, but it's also good to recognize that we have "digital" homes that need attention. And often this is at least less physically demanding, so it's good to keep it in your back pocket for days when you're mentally okay but physically too tired or sore to do more of that kind of work.

In the shortest possible terms, digital cleaning is just making sure that your phone, computer, socials, and other digital "presences" are organized in a way that you find helpful, and that you take a moment to either answer those messages you've been putting off or give yourself amnesty on doing so.

This tends to make a lot of people extremely anxious in a way ordinary physical space cleaning doesn't, so I'm going to put the rest of it behind a cut...

So when I say digital cleaning, I refer to stuff like going through my likes on Tumblr and clearing them out, going through my drafts and turning them into queued posts, answering my asks. I spend time in my email inboxes, either responding to messages or removing them. I am not an "inbox zero" kind of guy, but I like to keep the read-but-not-answered messages to a minimum, and towards the end of the year that usually means a clear-out and amnesty. I clean my Google Drive -- delete old files I uploaded for others, move documents I'm no longer using into an archive, move documents I want to work on into a central work folder. I go through my catch-all folder on my hard drive and organize it; I sort through the year's photos and organize those, partly to archive them and partly because I make a scrapbook from them each year. I don't usually have a ton of tabs open but often have more than I'd like, so I go through them all and either read, bookmark, or get rid of them.

I look in my phone's file tree to make sure I delete files I don't need (mostly menu downloads, Restaurants Stop Making Your Menus PDFs Challenge 2K24) and I sometimes go through each app on my phone, make sure I still use it, and make sure it's set how I want it. If this sounds like a nightmare, bear in mind that I very rarely put apps on my phone to start with -- I think my mother has more apps open at any given time than I have apps on my phone ever.

Everywhere I clean, I look for files named things like "notes" or "deal with" or "random" and move them all into one place so that whatever is in them, I can sort through it and make sure it goes somewhere permanent. Logins go in the login/password spreadsheet I keep, addresses go into my contacts, story notes go into a "fiction scraps" file, random thoughts either get moved into a journal file or put into drafts to become Tumblr posts, etc.

If this sounds like I might have some kind of compulsion disorder, I get that; when I explain my digital hygiene systems a lot of people look at me like I'm spouting a mad but harmless conspiracy theory. But it's something I used to have to do periodically even before I created National Clean Your Home Month, because otherwise I could never find anything, and everything was just...harder. As I once told a boss who admired my organizational skills, "It was this or endless chaos."

Putting addresses into my contacts list means I always know that the addresses I have for my friends are up to date. Putting logins into a spreadsheet means that five minutes spent now will not result in five weeks of procrastination later because I can't find the login and can't do anything else until I do that. Going through my email and archiving old conversations means not only can I find them easily when needed, I don't have to look at them the rest of the time. Sometimes I even go through my various wish lists and remove old/purchased items, or clear out all my "save for later" carts.

There's no doubt this is stressful, but like every part of NaClYoHo, it's broken down into smaller tasks; I don't have to look at my computer and organize everything on it all in one day. I can answer a few asks, then sort photos (something I find very soothing up until the moment I Don't), then read and delete some emails, then I'm done for the day. I can spread "answer or file all your work emails" out over a couple of days. I can maybe empty out my Likes but just turn the ones I actually want to reblog into drafts for now and deal with them later in the "drafts" phase of cleaning. And if I don't manage to empty out my inboxes, at least they're emptier than they were.

I'm struggling this morning with having put a bunch of physical cleaning on the to-do list but not feeling physically up for it, so I did what I felt capable of doing (measuring cabinets for new shelf liners mainly) and later today I might sit down and start building this year's photobook. Or not -- I have to code Radio Free Monday, sort out a prescription and possibly go pick it up, plus a very full day of work and a couple of afternoon appointments I can't shirk, so today may simply be a "get through the day" kind of day. That's okay too; some days the spirit is willing but the schedule is full.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Okay so I hope you guys r ready for a long one because baby I’ve had an interesting week.

So on Monday I accidentally no-call no-showed to my second job. I only got the messages like an hour after my shift was supposed to end so like I really fucked up. The next day, I got an email asking me what happened and I was immediately overcome with anxiety and just didn’t respond. Then on Wednesday I was like okay I really need this extra income so I will deal with this. I’d had a great day sales wise at my Real Job (tm) so I was feeling jazzed enough to want to deal with it. I got home an immediately I was The Opposite Of Jazzed and send off my login information for my email to my best friend who dealt with it because she’s the best person on this fucking planet.

So then today, Thursday, I got into my Real Job and found out that my boss was recommending me for a full time leadership position. I was very pumped and still am. Then, after that shift, I hightailed it to my second job (the one I no-call no-showed at on Monday) and sat in absolute fucking agony for 30 minutes while I thought about what to say in the impending Corporate Meeting Regarding My Behaviour. I got in there and turns out I was going to be completely on my own for my first close and I was like cool great I don’t have to Have a Meeting.

Everything was going good for a while until I met my fucking supervisor: a middle aged man with a ponytail. Immediately the vibes were off but I was like Nah you’re just not used to working with men. My Real Job (tm) only has 12 men on the payroll company wide and my previous jobs have all been predominantly staffed by women/queer people so like I just don’t see many straight/cis men in the workplace.

Anyway I was right to have weird vibes about him because the ENTIRE NIGHT anytime we came face to face he was hitting on me. At one point I was trying to get him to come over without hollering over a customers head by making eye contact with him. He comes over and just said “oh sorry I didn’t think you wanted me to come over I just thought you were checking me out” and I just laughed uncomfortably because there was a customer right in front of us. He proceeded to get uncomfortably close to me and do the task I was trying to do completely wrong.

And then finally, it was time to close. This was my first time closing and I had no clue what the procedure was in the slightest. I get locked in a fucking cash office with him while he got uncomfortably close to me and we counted my till. At every other job I’ve ever had I’ve either counted my own till and had it verified by someone else the next day or just not had to deal with it. And normally I am not the type to feel anxious about being locked in a tiny room with someone because I know I’m fuckin safe but this dude?? Dog the only thing that brought me comfort was the fact that we both knew there were cameras in there. Like I know he was probably trying to be nice / funny and all but like he just gave me the creeps.

Anyway I’m counting down the days until I find out if I get that leadership position at my Real Job so I don’t have to go back to my second job ever again. A 30% discount on groceries is not worth it at this point what the fuck. Like I’d already lost patience with my second job pretty soon after I started but like this is just another nail in the coffin. I’m losing my mind because realistically I’m probably just missing a joke of some kind so I can’t really go to HR with anything cuz like he didn’t do anything but have pungent vibes and creep me out but also I don’t ever want to work with him again because I care about my own peace too much. I’ve got a light at the end of the tunnel so I’m just gonna avoid him until I can secure a full time gig at My Real Job

[not-poignant]

Hello, happy holidays!

I’ve been a quiet consumer of your works and I just wanted to thank you for being such a source of writing inspiration for me. Especially with regards to how you handle reader engagement.

I used to be really sensitive about every negative/not explicitly positive interaction regarding my story and ruminate for days about what I did wrong, but your attitude towards people not always being into your content has really helped me engage with mine in a healthier way.

Idk if that makes sense lol. Feel free to ignore this if it doesn’t. Happy holidays again!

Hi anon!

Hopefully my replying to asks in sometimes an extremely untimely manner has not made you too anxious, it's definitely a me thing, and not a you thing. (*Quietly kicks my email inbox under the rug*).

Honestly, I can understand being sensitive to these things! I think a lot of creators are like 'you have to develop a tough skin' and while it's nice if you can, some of us remain relatively thin-skinned until the end of time, so instead we just have to learn ways to deal with it otherwise. Negative things still get to me, but now I can actively remind myself that it often has nothing at all to do with me, when it comes to my writing, or that I don't deserve to be treated with disrespect, or to be made to feel like it's my fault that *they made the choice to read my writing.* (I've never made anyone read my writing - but I do like it when it happens!)

I think as well, when people like and don't like your stuff, you're doing something right. It means you're making something real. I love onions on a burger, will always ask for extra onions on a burger, and some people can't stand onions and will be like 'ONIONS ARE THE GROSSEST THINGS EVER' (and asshole twats will be like) 'HOW DARE YOU EVER EAT ANOTHER BURGER AGAIN WITH ONIONS BECAUSE I HATE THEM' and when you look at negative comments through the lens of my burger analogy, you realise just how much what these people say has nothing to do with the people who like onions on their burgers. They are screaming into the abyss. They forgot they could use their little legs to just walk into a different store lmao. They forget they can leave.

That's what blocking, deleting, or reminding people that they could at least be respectful is for. But yeah, ultimately, people just need to find the burgers they like, and stop expecting the whole world to cater to them. Especially when it comes to free fanfiction / labour.

Anyway so it does make sense. I can talk about this until the cows come home (obviously). I don't think you need to feel unaffected by this stuff when the negativity comes, as long as you can gently remember some perspective here. Whatever your favourite food is, some people hate it, and the responsibility of those people isn't to get you to change your favourite food, it's to go elsewhere. And if someone forgets they have that power, I am always happy to remind them. And a block/delete reminds people just as well as saying something, depending on the level of troll you're encountering.

(If it's just general polite negativity I generally still remind them that I didn't make them read a thing, and they are welcome to go elsewhere. Sometimes you need to remind people that the exit is exactly the same as they door they came in through, they just need to turn around and use it, lol. And if it's general polite negativity with a few positive comments, I'll just respond to the positive stuff and ignore the rest).

(Also caveat: Doing things actually wrong when it comes to representing marginalised identities is an entirely different kettle of fish, obviously this is something to listen to and take on board and reflect on. That's just a very different strata to the kind of engagement I'm talking about here, where someone gets weird because like... I didn't make a character pregnant, or because I didn't describe a back story the way they wanted me to and so on (that's why fanfiction exists! Folks should write some!))

Sometimes folks also just need to be reminded of - or taught - fanfiction and fandom etiquette. Not everyone knows it, and not everyone picks it up through osmosis. But ultimately...

I don't have an ultimately, I just had a Wednesday afternoon ramble hehe.

[kinetic-elaboration]

April 25: Returning to Work

I don’t know how much the stay-cation helped and how much was just a sort of stop-gap measure but I am back at work, and it’s been going okay. It just… feels like a lot. Feels like a lot of stimulus all the time. Yesterday was the last food truck day of the semester, and I ate way too much; I always judge that wrong. We had an interview for the library assistant position; the second of two, but I missed the first one because it was on my day off. I feel slightly bad about that, but like… whatever, honestly. If people ignore the out of office information I put on the calendar it’s because my input isn’t important, or not important enough, and there’s really nothing I can do about that. I thought the candidate, who I know a little, was very nice, but I wish I was more impressed with her than I was. I did nothing with my post-work hours, mostly because I was still digesting.

Today has been even more of a lot, to be honest… I’ve been trying hard to finish this project I’m working on with our student worker before she leaves, something I am quite in denial about. There’s still a huge backlog of oral history stuff that I just don’t feel like I can deal with, even though I know I just need to be slow and steady about it. Our dedicated computer is having issues too—even though it’s only a year old, has literally almost nothing on it, and doesn’t store anything, so that doesn’t fill me with confidence.

In the morning, one of the adjuncts I know but have always felt like I have trouble getting along with passed me on his bike and yelled things at me, I guess my name or something to say hello, but I didn’t recognize him and thought he was just yelling, or like he was upset with me for choosing to cross the street when I did, so I didn’t say anything, and then later he sent me an email like ‘guess you were listening to your music really loud and didn’t hear me’ which actually really pissed me off. First earbuds are disgusting and I don’t use them and second and more importantly, listening to music while you walk is dangerous and I’m not fucking stupid. So I like kind of had to respond to that and I hope I didn’t come off as passive aggressive as I felt, but I’ve been obsessing about it and feeling horrible all day. I kind of… feel like I was in the right, though? Like you cannot just yell at someone as she’s trying to cross the street. Just don’t do that.

And then the subject of AI came up in the TS meeting and I kind of decided to go off for literally no reason and then I obsessed about that for a long time, too. Like in a silent, fuming way.

In the afternoon, I did have a much more pleasant and fun conversation, and then after that there was a birthday party, with fancy cake. Really it’s the little things, you know. But unfortunately the director, who I think I can just honestly admit to myself, in the privacy of this public place, I don’t really like, dominated discussion as she always does with things that make me anxious. Later discussion was about Taylor Swift, and like… it’s sort of a part of my personality that I’m Aggressively Neutral about TSwift, which seems like a rare position to take sometimes, and I also like to think I don’t much about her. Discovered I know kind of a lot about her, when you take me out of the internet and put me with real people. That really rocks my self-perception.

After work I went grocery shopping. I can only hope I got what I was supposed to get because I really don’t remember, but it wasn’t too bad, as far as grocery shopping goes. Waiting for the bus, I read some of my old ficlets and I’m not going to lie, they’re quite nice. Quite enjoyable to read. So at least I have that going for me.

[f8ie]

This is pancit! I have signed up for the Great North Run, a half-marathon that has been on my bucket list since I was a kid. I have been living in the North East for most of my life, yet I only learned today that the GNR is the world's largest half-marathon, with people from all over the world taking part even Mo Farah and other famous athletes.

There are four ways to participate:

Join the AJ Bell GNR membership for £70 for three years. This will secure your place and you get a shirt.

Enter the general ballot for £59 to be placed in a draw. If you are not chosen, they will refund the money.

Run for a charity, which is what I did. I had to pay £30 to sign up and raise at least £500 for the chosen charity, which in my case is the British Heart Foundation (BHF). I've always wanted to run for them, for a special person who went through congenital heart disease, and I've been volunteering in their shops since I was a teenager.

Sign up as an Elite runner - You have to have a finishing time of 1 hour 30 minutes (for women) to even make it onto the list.

For option 3 I've set up a JustGiving page. To fundraise I was thinking of sell my stuff, my mum's home made greeting cards, bake banana bread, sell plants, and make little cat crochet keyrings.

We are all encouraged to join the TeamBHF on Facebook.

***Update for March: After signing up, I was connected to Full Potential, a personal coaching company for all BHF runners. I had to fill out a Google form to provide my current health status, including how much exercise I do in a week, etc. They responded with a very comprehensive guide and a daily schedule for my training. The schedule includes information on running, rest days, types of runs, and strength training, covering the period from March 13 to race day, with an additional 2 weeks for recovery afterward. I used Google Calendar to map out all of my training to remind me and use Strava to collect data on my workouts and runs. I used my Apple watch to time my pace and heart rate. I also used Nike Training Club for my strength training exercise (my favourite is Bettina Gozo and Brian Nunez).

Somewhere in the middle of my training, around July, we had a Zoom call with Full Potential's Keith and Debbie. They asked about our progress and if we had any questions. It was a great opportunity to feel like a part of Team BHF. Throughout the training, we received numerous reminders and updates via email about what we needed to do. Weeks before the race day, I experienced some discomfort in my right hip. I contacted Full Potential, and Keith called me to discuss my hip. He advised that I rest and take it easy for two weeks before the race day.

During this training period, I felt well taken care of as a volunteer running for BHF. Full Potential and BHF were easily contactable and they reply very quick. Although I was disappointed that the T-shirt didn't arrive on time, in hindsight, I should have followed up earlier and faster, considering they were dealing with so many people.

SEPTEMBER: In the weeks leading up to the race, I had recurring dreams that I wouldn't be able to run because I forgot my bib. I was very anxious because I was bringing the car to the UK through the ferry for the first time and was filled with dread about crashing and not being able to participate. Thankfully, we arrived safely on Saturday after a 4-5 hour drive. Had a carb loading night eating bacon carbonara with my family. I was just really happy that we are complete for the first time after 5 years :). *RACE DAY*

I had breakfast at 7:30 am, which consisted of apple and cinnamon oatmeal. We arrived in Newcastle around 8:30 am and parked in Eldon Square. However, I learned that this was too early, as the race was scheduled to start at 10:45 am, but the massive crowd caused a long queue (I was in section J which is the last), and I didn't get to run until 1:00 pm. By the time I started, I was quite hungry.

Arriving in the venue there was so much hype that my family was encourage to also take part for next year. Everyone was just so cheery and we were blessed with a nice weather... in my opinion a bit too hot that I was concern I might black out. I received a free hot drink from Greggs, one of GNR's sponsors, but I gave it to my parents because I didn't want upset my stomach. I didn't bother bringing a water bottle since there were plenty of water stations along the route to keep me hydrated. In my pockets, I had Rowntrees fruit pastels for a quick energy boost. Since it was sunny, I decided not to bring my waterproof jacket. I timed my consumption, having 1 or 2 fruit pastilles and sipping water every 3 miles. Overall, I drank at least 3-4 bottles of water and didn't need to use the toilet.

There were many portable toilets, especially at the starting point of the race (not the beginning of the queue), and buses were available to transport our belongings to South Shields. Fortunately, I was with my family, so they carried my stuff.

At the very start of the race, there were so many people that it determined my pace because it was just too crowded. Some people were even carrying random items like a washing machine, a cardboard airplane, dressed up as a rhino or carrying a model of the Tyne Bridge as their personal challenge.

I tried to mentally document every mile:

1 - Going too fast 2 - Still fast and feeling confident that I can maintain this pace 3 - Feeling a stitch, so slowing down. 4 - Trying not to get too upset about slowing down 5 - Getting tired, so slowing down more but trying to stay positive 6 - The stitch moved from the left to the right side of my body, and I had my first Rowntrees 7 - Saw people needing an ambulance twice, which made me a bit scared that I might need it too 8 - Developed a bit of a tummy ache, considered going to the toilets but saw the long queue and changed my mind

Saw the British Heart foundation bus - (so every charity has it's bus dedicated to it) there is a photographer that takes photos of all those running in behalf of them - they distinguish who they are by the tshirt that the runners are wearing, which I was not able to get on time. So they were not able to take a photo of me. 9 - Left side of my body is hurting and feels heavy, particularly my chest. Shaking and stretching my shoulders to awaken my left side. 10 - Questioning my life choices, wondering why I'm putting myself through this. 11 - I'm almost there!!! There are shower places which you can go through like a car wash to give you a bit of a cold wet breeze which I didn't like. Some kid had a water gun and i moved away because I don't actually like getting wet but somehow he still squirted water on my eye. 12 - Questioning why is this mile so long? 13 - Just sprinting and closing my eyes until I reach the finish line. I heard people scream my name which gave me a little bit of push to sprint. Reached the finish line. My head is throbbing, I kept walking, feeling all the pain in my legs. I want to see my family so I can go and eat all the carbs I can think of.

After finishing the race, I can say that my overall experience of the GNR was amazing! The crowds was buzzing and you can really feel the people coming together to celebrate this event. People coming out of their houses offerings sweets, beer, orange slices and even sprinkling water to combat the summer heat. I truly enjoyed it and I believe it was very well organized and a great example of excellent event planning. (I mean it's been going on for 42 years). I knew where to go both before starting the race and after finishing it. There was an app that allowed my family and colleagues to track my progress by showing which miles I had completed, my pace, and the estimated time of my finish.

After crossing the finish line, there was a clear path to follow. First, there was a water station, then you received your medal, followed by a giveaway station where you lined up based on your T-shirt size (only 3 choices). In the giveaway bag, you received popcorn, an energy bar, and your finisher T-shirt. Then you were directed to the photo wall, and you could easily locate your family as the meeting points were organized by letter.

Unfortunately, it rained so heavily minutes after I finished that it flooded South Shield's metro. It caused a congestion as everyone just want to go home all at the same time. I wanted to experience the Apre-Run Zone or just get a massage but it was just too wet and we just wanted to go home. In hindsight if I ever get to do this again. 09:00 - eat breakfast 10:00 - arrive in Newcastle 10:45 - be in line 13:00 - run! BOOK A HOTEL/B&B in South Shields to avoid that chaos if ever it rains again. One might want to park there because at least you are in the car when it rains but seeing the traffic it was probably faster to walk 3 miles and get to the nearest open metro.

Overall I am glad I am able to cross this off my bucket list. I will probably not do this again alone, but if any of my family members are up for it I might do it with them. I have learned so much triaining for this and in the future I hope to be able to do the London Marathon if given the chance.

[nathfiset]

How can I give birth naturally?

Giving birth naturally is possible

Hypno-Baby often receives emails from pregnant women interested in giving birth naturally. Before starting the Hypno-Baby online course, they are often stressed out. After they go through the course, most are so confident and relaxed that they have the most beautiful, comfortable and natural birth that they were hoping for!   Sandy gave birth naturally Hi, I’m a new mom. I’m a 24 year old pregnant mom who was hoping to have a natural birth. But, unfortunately, I am having an intervention birth. I can’t wait to see my baby for the first time but, I can’t stand the idea of being cut open and having trouble bounding with my baby after the birth. I know there are many moms out there who have had natural births. And, I want to find out exactly what they did. I want to know what exactly they were eating, how they exercised, what kind of massage techniques they used and what form of relaxation techniques they used to get through the labour process. I am not interested in conventional methods. I would rather try and do whatever I can to have natural birth. So, if any of you moms can help... Please respond and let me know what worked for you. After following the Hypno-Baby course, changing birthing center and hiring a Doula, Sandy gave birth naturally without any intervention!

  Easy, natural birth for a first baby Right before starting the Hypno-Baby course, Sam was anxious and wrote to us: My goal is to have my baby naturally without the need for medication. I’ve heard that natural birth is the best way to have a baby because it limits the risk of complications during labour. I want to learn powerful techniques so that I can have my baby without medication. I’m worried that if I wait too long, I will risk having complications and interventions. I’m concerned because my mother had such a difficult birth, and got complications because of her age. I don’t want the same thing to happen to me. I don’t just want to give birth naturally, but I want my baby to be healthy as well. So, I’m worried about how much stress this is going to put on me. I want to spend my labour relaxing and having fun. Please help me learn how to have my baby naturally. I really want to do it, but I don’t know how. She gave birth naturally and felt that the course had released all her fears and tensions before. She is now a certified Hypno-Baby instructor and teaches expectant couples to prepare for a natural birth. Getting prepared for a comfortable and natural birth Yasmine felt isolated and anxious as she was away from her family and felt unprepared to give birth. I’ve been told by my doctor that I have a 90% chance of giving birth naturally. So, I’m looking to learn how I can prepare for a natural birth. I’ve been dealing with a lot of back pain during my pregnancy and it’s really taking a toll on my life. Being able to move comfortably is essential for a healthy pregnancy, and I want to be in the best shape possible for my labor. However, finding a good prenatal exercise class has be challenging. I’ve been looking for some time, and none of the classes I’ve been able to find are flexible enough to accommodate my busy schedule. I need someone who can show me a prenatal exercise class that I can do at home, or that I can take at my office. I want to be able to take a class that is both safe and effective. When I found the Hypno-Baby online course, I felt relieved! Dr Fiset explains everything so simply and the exercises are so much fun that I did not realize how powerful they were until I gave birth! The staff at the maternity ward was jaw dropped when they saw me giving birth naturally while smiling! Giving birth fast for a second baby in the best comfort Hey, I am the mother of a 3 year old, and I am about to give birth to my second baby. I have been following you for a while now, and have learned so many useful tips and tricks about pregnancy. So far, as far as I can tell, my pregnancy has been pretty normal. Even my doctor tells me I’m doing great. But, I’m a bit curious... It seems like every new mother I meet has horror stories about their labour. And, I’m worried that my labour will be much worse than it was with my first baby. I felt like I had no control and many interventions were done to me and my baby without being informed for my first birth. If I could get some advice from someone who has been through a similar experience, I would really appreciate it. And, I would very much appreciate if you could share with me any tips you have for being able to have a natural birth. I am a strong believer in natural birth, but I’m also a strong believer in being prepared. If I’m able to get through the labour process with a natural birth, I would feel so much more confident and empowered. And, I know that would help me get through labour a lot easier. She wrote us after the birth: WOW! My labor was so fast and actually fun! After following the Hypno-Baby course, I felt so confident in myself and my team. When they offered me the epidural, I smiled and went into a deep state of hypnosis. One hour later, my baby was born with absolutely no intervention. I was able to walk and go to the bathroom right after breastfeeding. I have one regret: I wish I had done the Hypno-Baby course before my first birth!

              Read the full article

[agathasangel]

you just don’t know it yet but baby, i’ve already got your heart (diane sherman x fem!reader NSFW)

both an anon and @magnifique-monstre  requested yandere prompt 6 and 17 (i think?) so I’m gonna combine them because they would go together well

prompt 6: “Pretend you never saw that. I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

prompt 17: “I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world.”

warnings: everything, basically. it’s pretty fucked up actually. TW for drugging, stalking, dubcon, emetophobia warning (just one mention), kidnapping, etc. also teacher!diane

summary: Diane Sherman was your Professor, and then your girlfriend, and then your caretaker. As the days start to become hazy and mixed up with one another, you wonder if Diane is trustworthy. 

Every day was basically the same. Wake up, take your meds, have breakfast with Diane. Then you would either accompany Diane to school or she would take you to the doctor’s or sometimes, if you felt up to it, she would take you on some sort of outing. She never liked to leave you alone and protectively followed you nearly everywhere you went. She took you home, and you would rest by her as she worked on her grading. At night Diane would make dinner for the two of you, the two of you would relax together, she would make sure you took the medication you needed at night and then you fell asleep in her arms.

It was nice. But you noticed that you started to forget things. You sometimes forgot how you even knew Diane, you even forgot your whole life before you met her at times. You were supposed to be on medical leave for a semester, which turned into a whole year, and- how long has it been now? You had no idea. You thought it was still summer, but the days started to blur together. The next year may have started, you had no way of knowing. Diane taught year round, so you went to school with her either way.

You remembered how everything started, though. You were a freshman, and you had moved across the country for college. You felt alone, and scared. You took a Chemistry class because you had to take some sort of science course, and it was the only one available when you signed up. You dreaded going, until you saw Professor Sherman. You struggled a bit in the class, so you went to her office hours. It was also a good excuse to talk to her, you thought. 

She was a lot nicer than some of your other professors, and she helped you through the problems you struggled with.

“You know, students don’t usually like to come to my office hours, so feel free to show up whenever you need me. Alright, hon?”

“Of course. Thanks, Professor.”

How did it turn into this?

Oh, right. You and Diane started to get closer, and you started to come down with lots of rashes, general pains, and you started getting sick to your stomach more and more. 

One day, you emailed Diane to tell her you couldn’t make it to her lab because you had thrown up that morning, to which she responded by asking what dorm you were in and if you needed anything.

It might be nice if you could bring me some saltines or something to settle my stomach? I have nothing in my dorm and can’t really stand up yet. Don’t worry about it though. I don’t want to get you sick, and are you even allowed in the dorms?

- (y/n)

I’ll be fine, and it really isn’t a big deal. We’re both adults, and I just want to help you.

- thinking of you, Prof. Diane Sherman

Next thing you remember, Diane showed up to your dorm a few minutes after your lab would have ended and brought not just crackers, but ginger ale, soup, water, blankets, and several different medicines. You talked for a while too, but couldn’t for the life of you remember what about. But you did remember that she stayed with you as long as you needed her, and promised to come back if you needed it.

You didn’t get better. You managed to get through your finals and pass your first semester classes, but you ended up having to spend much of Winter break in the hospital. Your parents came to visit, as did Diane. Diane actually came back every day, making sure you were okay.

You remembered that because of the silver necklace Diane gave you that Christmas that you still wore every single day. You felt bad when you got it because you didn’t think to get her a gift, but she told you not to worry about that, this was just a little thing that made her think of you. Besides, you were in the hospital!

“You know (y/n), I don’t have anyone else to visit over the holidays. I’m glad I get to be with you. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

You started feeling a bit better and were able to come back for your second semester classes. You didn’t have Diane as a professor anymore, but you started to become friends. You would get coffee, or dinner. One night she asked you to come home with her, and be her girlfriend, to which you immediately agreed.

You slowly spent fewer nights at your dorm and more nights with Diane, and then you got sick again.  After that, she convinced you to move in with her full-time, and you’ve been living in her house and sleeping in her bed ever since. 

Right now, you were sitting in Diane’s and your bed, as she made dinner. You struggled to remember what happened next. This was when everything started to blend together. Your illnesses worsened even more shortly after you moved in with Diane. You remember being confined to the very same bed as Diane helped you do your finals from home, as she explained the situation to your parents and easily charmed them, convincing them you were in great hands.

“(Y/n), time for dinner!”, Diane called. She then walked to the bedroom to check if you needed any help.

“I’m fine, actually. I’ve been feeling a little better.”

“Good. Such a brave, good girl. Now eat up, alright baby?” cooed the older woman as she led you to the table and sat you down.

“Well, physically I’ve been feeling better, but-”

“What? What’s wrong? Have I not been paying enough attention to you? Are you feeling sad? anxious? My poor baby-”

“No, none of that. I’ve just been- forgetting things. Like, big chunks. My memories are so foggy. It’s hard for me to think at all sometimes.”

“Oh, honey, that’s just a side effect of your medication. It’s okay, it won’t last forever. And I’ll help you fill in any gaps you need until then. But you don’t need to worry. Not when you’re with me. Okay angel?”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Oh, we’re in that kind of mood, are we?”

“Is that okay?”

“Very, very, okay, little one.”

Mommy was what you called Diane most often during sex. It turned her on immensely, and it excited you as well. 

Diane grabbed you and brought you to the bed, tearing off your clothes.

“Are you still feeling good?”

“Yes Mommy.”

“Such a good girl for me. Such a good girl for Mommy.”

You spread your legs for her and she started touching you. But then-

“Mommy stop please. I can’t do this, Diane-”

“Alright. I’m sorry, I’ll go get your meds.

Diane went to the bathroom to get your meds and sleep aids.

“D-Diane?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why can’t I remember things? I can’t even remember some things about my family.”

“A side effect of some of your medication sweetie. I told you that.”

“You did?”

“Yes. I will tell you this, my love. People have hurt you, in your past. I remember when we met you were having such a difficult time. You wanted friends, you had so much trouble making friends. The other students were so mean to you. Your parents they- they acted like having to come see you when you were in the hospital was some kind of inconvenience. It was awful. You were so lonely.”

“I know I was lonely.”

“Yes, sweetheart. You needed someone. You needed me. I have to be the one to take care of you. I am the only person that can love the way you deserve to be loved. I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world. And I need you too. I need to love and protect you.”

“Yes, Diane. I need to sleep now.”

“Alright. Come here, darling,” said Diane. She held you until you fell asleep.

Next thing you knew, you were tied to the pole in the basement with several ropes. Diane was tying more and more ropes around you, around different parts of your body. The world felt heavy, blurry, fluid. 

“Please stop, Diane. Why are you doing this?”

“It’s for your own good, darling. Trust me. You need this.”

The ropes began to cover your entire body. Your face, eyes, neck. Especially your neck. There was a sharp sting on your neck.

Your eyes flew open, and you awoke in a cold sweat, and screamed. 

It was just a dream, I’m safe, thank God. Diane would never-

But then you noticed Diane. She was holding a small syringe, that seemed empty. And your neck stung. She was startled by your scream, clearly not expecting you to have woken up.

“Pretend you never saw that. I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

“What did you do to me? What was in there, Diane?”

“You need it, sweetheart. I know you don’t like needles.”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on?”

“You need this. You need me. Your-”

You searched for the syringe and found it. There was a thick, black residue on it, and you sniffed it. It gave you a head rush.

“You’ve been drugging me. This is why I’ve forgotten things, isn’t it?”

“Come on, angel. You know I wouldn’t”

“But-”

“Don’t worry, just go back to sleep.”

You did feel tired. So tired. And you couldn’t even remember what you and Diane were even fighting about. So you went to sleep in her arms.

The next morning, Diane made you breakfast. 

“How did you sleep, (y/n)?”

“I don’t know. I think I had a nightmare but I can’t remember-”

“Oh no! At least you can’t remember it, right?”

“I- I guess so.”

Diane felt relief that you didn’t remember what happened last night. Her plan was working. You would be hers, her precious girl, forever. All that work to find you, to make you trust her, making you sick, making you need her. She knew everything about you. You were her perfect girl, and she was yours. And you always would be.

[arqueete]

i'm having a hard time lately and i just need to channel some angsty teenager writing a long LJ post energy for a minute here

i am working a job i don't like, trying to find a new job that i might like better, and planning a wedding (and living in a global pandemic) all at the same time and lately it just really sucks.

in the tech world, it's common that you have to like, prove you can code by doing a live demonstration or completing homework or whatever. it's miserable and time consuming. so i spent the weekend before last coding so that i could present that work in an interview.

on tuesday, i had a first round phone interview with a company.

on wednesday, i had a meeting with a possible wedding photographer.

on thursday, i had an early afternoon second round interview with another company where the invite i was given said "phone interview" in the subject but the body said it was a video interview, and i only noticed this like five minutes before the interview and ended up showing up late to a video interview that i didn't expect to be on video for.

then late afternoon, i had a third round interview with a third company (which isn't even the final round!), which was a panel interview over video, where i had to present the project i did over the weekend.

on friday, i had a phone call with a possible wedding DJ.

and then in responding to various wedding-related email threads, of which i seem to have several at any given time, i somehow managed to ask a question which apparently offended my officiant for no good reason who sent me back a really indignant email and i literally just like... burst into tears. in recent years my anxiety is pretty well managed, i'm not in therapy anymore, but all of these conversations that i'm having lately that are literally about the other person judging how well i'm presenting myself in a stressful situation is just like... pushing the limits of what i know how to cope with. and now apparently someone thinks i did something wrong in one of these interactions, despite all of the work i am putting into trying to present the best side of myself possible!!! and it just doesn't seem very fair because i don't even think i did anything wrong with this one!!! now is this a sign i picked the wrong officiant? another thing to worry about. add it to the pile.

so i tried my best to calm down but ultimately went to bed an anxious mess anyway. and i woke up hoping to feel better but then laying in bed i also realized i never sent thank you emails for those two interviews on thursday. and i really, really hate thank you emails. and how i'm apparently supposed to send one after every interview. even though no one provides me with any contact info for my interviewers and just expects me to guess at their email addresses or constantly make HR forward messages for me (so it's an extra layer of email that also needs to be written!) and at that point i just really don't even have the energy to even try and send late ones, the idea of sending even one more email threatens to give me a panic attack.

i come back to work on monday and... i just hate my job. and i feel guilty because i am not very busy, i get to work remote, and i get paid well, so i know i have a lot to be grateful for, especially in this stupid pandemic where a lot of people are in physical danger at their jobs. but i do hate it. i have no friends here, i am surrounded by egos and difficult personalities. all my work gets nitpicked, there's no knowledge or skill i have to contribute that someone else doesn't (supposedly) know better and so everything i do is scrutinized. no one seems to want to give me anything important to be responsible for. i don't get invited to meetings where decisions are made and i'm tired of trying to get people to keep me in the loop. so i slack off all day because i know when i complete a piece of work, i'll just have to deal with my coworkers' opinions about how i could've done it better, and if i take a long time to do it no one seems to notice anyway because no one seems to think about me very much in general.

i haven't heard back from any of my interviews from last week, even though i felt like they all went really well. that doesn't necessarily mean anything. they might get back to me later to ask for another round. but in my experience, when they really like me, they are quick to respond, and a long wait typically means i'm out. so i'm already imagining i might be out on all three of these. maybe someone got offended that i didn't follow the unspoken etiquette of sending a thank you message to their email address that they never offered me. which means starting over with more applications. more weekends spent doing homework projects. more calls. more emails.

[gffa]

Dude the one response you wrote to another anon about having a hard time being a Real Person ™️ and interacting with others online bc of anxiety and stuff hit me so hard bc like BIG SAME.

I seriously appreciate how honest you are about this, bc I have very similar issues and I try really hard to leave comments on fics or reply to comments on my fics and sometimes my brain just says NO. And then too much time passes and then it's just awkward to reply later?? And then like, if you comment on a fic and the author replies and it opens the way for more conversation... Am I supposed to reply again??? I mean like obvs I know I don't have to, so usually I don't bc STRESS. But. ???? Idk.

What's the worst is that I have this same issue in "Brick Life" (IRL?)... Like, texting/emailing/chatting with friends and aquaintences??? How?? I overthink like EVERYTHING. And I wish I could just say, "yeah hey I have these problems so sometimes I can't reply! Or my reply might come off as weird to you bc I spent an hour rewording it and now I sound like an alien!" But I don't know how??? And I've tried doing like PSAs but ppl are like "oh you're so brave for admitting you have mental health issues. I'm so proud that you're reaching out" and then they go on with their lives like I don't have debilitating anxiety and seem to expect me to interact with them in whatever way they think is "normal" and im like 🙃🙃🙃

Anyway. Socially anxious high five from me to you. And you totally don't have to reply to this at all if you don't want to! I just read what you say sometimes about having anxiety and stuff and my brain goes "!!!!!! SAME HAT!!!!!"

Have a good day/night/time 💞

GOD, I REWROTE THIS RESPONSE LIKE FIVE TIMES, no, I’m not kidding. Yes, it’s funny because that’s what this response is about but also I really did. So, I’m going to start with this: And I wish I could just say, "yeah hey I have these problems so sometimes I can't reply! Or my reply might come off as weird to you bc I spent an hour rewording it and now I sound like an alien!" But I don't know how??? ^ Say exactly this!  Seriously!  It doesn’t have to be a big, huge conversation piece about how you’re anxious, you can just drop that in quick at the beginning, just tell the person, “Hey, brain weasels are really wriggling around up there today, so this took me awhile to cough up, so if it sounds like it’s weirdly terse or something, that’s not the intention, I’m just anxious about it.” and then go right on into the conversation. I’ve found that the shame of social anxiety is a real pain in the ass, but so is letting it define me.  It’s a thing I have!  It sucks massively!  I have to deal with it every day and in almost every conversation!  People want to help, and when I can tell them specifically what I need (usually it’s just that I need some extra understanding if I sound stilted or terse or disjointed, to know that it’s not that I’m being an asshole, it’s that I’m herding cats up there and this was the best I could get out in the moment), it goes a long way, because people are very understanding! Or, for example, sometimes I go on a little too much because I can’t stop myself and then I’ll tack on something like, “LOL GOD SORRY I know this is obnoxious, I just had FEELINGS, I’ll let you go now.” and throw in an emoji something to lighten the mood. Or, if you’re friendly with someone and they’re like, “What’s wrong, you seem off today.” and you can reply with, “[tosses a rock at] SOCIAL ANXIETY SUCKS AND I HATE MY LIZARD BRAIN.  (Okay, I’m being dramatic, but sometimes you gotta be over the top about these things!)” Or even something as simple as “/Social Anxiety Having Nerd Trying To Be Totally Normal Level Of Cool To Interact With” at the start/end of something as a reminder to people. Make it silly, even when the feelings are real, while also letting yourself off the hook for feeling this way! A lot of us are dealing with anxiety or other various forms of mental health issues, many of which are going to be with us for a long time, if not the rest of our lives.  It can be exhausting to carry this shit around, to feel like you have to do so much more work than other people do just to have a goddamned conversation.  And there are absolutely times to be deadly serious about it, especially if you’re having a bad day and need to vent or just need some commiseration.  Figure out what you need from your friends, what they specifically can do to help, but also have some humor with it and remember that, hey, if other people can fake it until you can’t tell they had anxiety, then you can fake it so that others can’t tell you have anxiety. Remember that there almost always will be more chances in the future to interact with someone, another fic will come along, another conversation will come along, another meta will come along, there will be more chances, so if you have to let some pass by because you don’t have the energy to get up over the anxiety hill to comment, then that’s okay, too.  A lot of us are dealing with this stuff and some missed chances are because we’re human. I mean, if you do get up the energy to respond and don’t know where to go from there, it’s okay to not respond back!  It’s okay if they don’t respond back!  People are but blobs floating in the currents of the ocean, sometimes they bob closer, sometimes they bob further away, but they’ll always come back and go away and come back again.  And that goes for you, too.  If responding to something makes your brain go N O P E, then don’t stress about it.  If you’re just kinda nervous, remember that other people can’t tell NEARLY as much about you as you think they can. Everyone is up their own asses about their own stuff, so you can be a trainwreck over here and hardly anyone is going to notice because they’re too busy thinking about their own trainwreck!  I promise you, people are not NEARLY as perceptive as you fear they are, when it comes to piercing the veil of your social anxiety, and so it’s okay to just let stuff slide or be a little twitchy, because you’re a person and so is everyone else.  ♥

[phynali]

so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because - 

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another. 

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out - 

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through. 

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate. 

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once. 

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better. 

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot. 

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper. 

[cancerbiophd]

Hi Julia! I will be graduating from grad school next summer and I've been accepted to a R&D position in the pharmaceutical industry, which was my dream so I'm very excited! As someone who also made the transition from academia to industry, do you have any tips or advice on how to handle the different expectations? Thank you!

Hello Rose! Congratulations!! That’s so wonderful to hear. You’ve worked hard for this!

I’m very much still in the process of learning to navigate the transition myself but I will tell you all that I’ve learned so far. I’ve found that grad school has actually prepared me quite well for industry because of all the translatable skills I picked up (and even from college and other life experiences). So if you find this list is filled with some familiar things, then that’s a very good sign!

Have a method to deal with feeling overwhelmed. Going from academia to industry can feel like moving from a small rural town where you knew everybody to a big bustling loud crowded city. Oftentimes it will be sensory and information overload, and it’s easy to feel anxious most of the time. It’s best to have in your emotional tool-kit a few plans on how to navigate challenges like figuring out unfamiliar protocols and tasks, what to do if you make a mistake, how to decompress after an anxiety-inducing phone call or presentation, etc. 

I recommend not forming any emotional attachment to your projects, because unlike grad school where we worked on basically one big thing for many years, projects can come and go very quickly and seemingly unexpectedly in industry. And most of the time these decisions are not 100% up to us in R&D, but the business side of things, because if a project isn’t meeting a company goal (whether financial or otherwise), it’ll be put on hold or cut. (But that’s not to say R&D doesn’t have input, but we don’t often get the last say). 

Know your go-to person or persons for questions, from your manager and fellow coworkers for project-related questions to contacts in IT, HR, etc. And be protective of your right to ask questions and receive answers. This is part of your job, and this is part of their job as well. Everything that comes out of your department is a team-effort, after all. And time is money (and company goals fulfilled)--always remember that. And that includes your time as well, so taking 5 min to ask a question and getting a straight-forward answer is much better than spending 5 hours confused and doing something wrong! Not a day goes by where I don’t ask a bunch of questions (and most of them are: what does this abbreviation stand for? Because in industry, apparently if it can be abbreviated, it will be.)

Set clear expectations and goals with your manager, and check in with them regularly. Project goals are much more concrete and common in industry where project timelines (sometimes set by the business side) guide every decision, vs academia where decisions can be more experimental and free-flowing. Finding out your pace in this timeline and delivering what your manager expects is a two-way street where communication is key. Whenever I get a new project, I like to tell my manager “let’s touch base on my progress tomorrow” so we can a) catch any of my mistakes early, b) estimate when I’ll be done/ready for the next step, and based on that, c) see if we need to have more help. 

Follow what your fellow coworkers do in terms of small workplace-culture-things, like email etiquette (eg. reply to one vs reply all), when to start and end each work-day, how to respond to manager requests (my team likes each of us to reply with “ok will do!”), the best way to communicate (we prefer instant messaging via slack), etc.

Stay organized and prepared. Time is money in industry, and staying organized and on top of things saves time (and thus money). I’ve also found that it’s always better (and expected) to be able to provide an immediate answer to questions during meetings, rather than “I’ll get back to you” (unless it really is something that’ll take a while to figure out). So have your notes ready and well-organized. 

Related, document everything, or at least know the reason behind your decisions. Mostly because you may be working in a very large and interdisciplinary team (think sales, operations, marketing, etc) and they may not have the science-know-how to understand some R&D choices. Also higher-ups may not be able to remember every minute detail of a project, so it’s good to have all that on hand. The other day my manager actually asked me to remind her of the decisions we made during a meeting on one of her projects. Good thing I had taken notes!

Take the opportunity to learn who everyone is and what they do at the company that you meet. Company directories and LinkedIn profiles are great for this. 

Pay attention to the paperwork. Companies run on rules and regulations and contracts and legal this and that. Our choices can have more consequences now than when we were in school. I usually like to get 2nd and 3rd opinions on things (either from coworkers or from a more experienced friend or family member) that I’m not 100% sure on. 

Be prepared to have more trust placed in you and your decisions. Not really a huge piece of advice, but more like, hey, head’s up! Because one thing that was jarring for me as someone coming straight from grad school where our self-esteem was repeatedly pummeled down was how much more respected I am now. My feedback and project decisions are actually welcomed, trusted, and acted upon. This is in part to my degree, my experience, and the culture of my team, but wow, I haven’t felt this valued in such long time. 

Related to that last point, professionalism counts more now. Academia offers a bit more freedom in terms of how an individual dresses and acts, but company environments put more emphasis and expectations in those things (especially for customer/client-facing positions). Depending on your company, you may have a dress-code and be held to a certain level of professional etiquette. 

And lastly, take it slow, and trust that effort will never betray you. The learning curve can also be pretty steep--my coworker tells me that it’s at least 6 months for my position. I like to finish each work day by reflecting on something I now know that I didn’t when I woke up that morning--it really helps keep my self-esteem up and the feelings of imposter syndrome down. 

That’s all I got for now! My inbox and chat are always open if you have any other follow-up questions. Congrats again on graduating and your new position!! 

[wildlittlefoxsworld]

Can time heal everything? | The Old Guard | Booker x Fem!reader

ONE

Summary: Booker confesses his plan with Copley about how they all could be mortal again to his wife, the reader. Booker doesn't want to hurt his family and doesn't know how to stop Copley and Merrick before it's too late. The reader is heart-broken that her husband wanted to leave her to make his wish come true of being mortal again. Will they could stop Copley? Will the team trust Booker again? Will the reader and Booker find back to each other?

***

Booker tried for the third time to tell you about the plan that Copley presented him, but he couldn't, you would hate him. But it was too late. The whole team were preparing for an unknown mission in South Sudan. But the mission was a camouflage for something that would put all of you in danger.

Could he really betray you?

No, he didn't want to. He saw this as an oppurtunity to find a way to have a mortal life with you and you could have children of your own. You told him you would know how much he loved you, but would you still love him if he betrayed you.

You wouldn't forgive him and he would lose you like he had lost his first family.

He knew it was wrong what he did, but was there still chance to stop all of this?

He needed to tell you to find it out.

“Y/N!” he shouted and you came in the bathroom a few seconds later.

“Everything okay?” you asked worried when you saw his sad face.

“I am sorry… I don't know what to say… I was wrong… please, Y/N…,” he stuttered and his eyes shimmered with tears.

“Why are you sorry? What happened?”

You were confused about your husband's behaviour and took his hands in yours. He looked pained and you thought for a moment that he will confess you he cheated on you or something, but this would be ridiculous. You were married for over hundred years. But you prepared yourself for the worst.

“I did something horrible. There is… there is no mission,” he answered quietly.

“What? I don't understand. What do you mean that there is no mission?” you responded shocked.

“It's fake. All of it. Copley doesn't work for the CIA anymore. He works for a man named Merrick…”

“Seb, what did you do?” you asked in a low voice. All emotion was gone and he dared to look at you, wide eyes and your lips pressed together in a thin line. “Talk,” you spoke loud and he flinched.

“Copley said he could find a way with Merrick's help to make us mortal.”

“Mortal? How and who is this Merrick?” you hustled him to tell you more.

“Merrick is the CEO of pharmacy company. He has scientists who would take tests with us to…”

Tests? That wasn't good. Your mind was racing and you couldn't understand what was really going on, but you understood that you and your family were in danger and you will do what was neccesary to save all of you.

“Give me your laptop. We need every information you have about Copley.”

Booker gulped when he heard your cold and demanding voice. He could see in your eyes that you were upset. What did he expect? He was sure that you will never forgive him that all of you nearly went in a trap. With slumbed shoulders he walked in the bedroom and gave you his laptop after he opened the file where he save all about his interactions with Copley.

“What is all about this fake mission?” you asked him furiously.

“Copley needs a proof that we are immortal. Otherwise the man, Merrick, wouldn't work together with him,” he explained with a broken voice.

“Sebastien, he won't help us to be mortal again. He want our immortality for his interests… Copley has no intentions to help us…,” you shouted at him and shook your head in disbelief. Your husband wanted to sell all of you to a man who would put you through a bunch of tests like you were some laboratory mice.

“I know it now…”

“I can't believe that you wanted this. That you even agreed to anything that Copley told you.”

“I did it for us. So we can have a family and grow old together,” Booker tried to excuse his behaviour.

“We are a family. We all five.”

“I'm sorry, please, I made a mistake. I realized that I don't want this. I know it was wrong.”

“Pray that your insight wasn't too late,” you said in a worried voice.

“I don't want anyone to get hurt,” he mumbled desperately. “Copled discovered our secret on his own and he contacted me with the offer that he could help to figure out what caused the immortality and how to be mortal again. I believed him, but he never said that it would involve all of us and I didn't realize until now.”

“Why didn't you tell me earlier?” you asked him offended.

“I was afraid and it was part of the deal that I won't tell anyone.”

You nodded with a tense jaw and tears stinged in your eyes. You looked at your husband and all you saw was the same broken man you met when you became immortal. You never chose this life, no one of your family did. It was destiny and you accepted your faith. Booker didn't. You knew about his wish of a normal life, but you never thought he would do such things like consider to betray his family. Actually he hadn't betrayed you yet, but he planned it and you couldn't decide what was the worst.

“Don't tell me you did this for us. You can't decide or speak for me. I'm disappointed. I thought you would tell me when you aren't happy with what we have. But we're married, we love each other and we promised us something back then.”

“Yes, I do love you,” he cried out. “And I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. Please, believe me. We won't do the mission or even meet with Copley in person. Everything sounded good and Copley promised that no one would be hurt. But when he came up with this fake mission, I was unable to cope and I panicked. He wants all of us now and I don't how we can get out of this.”

Now you were confused again. His explanation revealed details that you didn't consider in your rage and now you got nervous that you understood his words wrong.

“Let me get this right now. You thought Copley would only involve you in his plan. He never mentioned the rest of us before until he told you about the condition with this fake mission?”

Booker nodded furiously.

“You never wanted to betray us?”

“Never, Y/N, I swear. I would never do this to you or Andy or Nicky and Joe. I just saw an oppurtunity that I could be human again. I trusted him. He told me about the fake mission first. He need a footage as a proof for the immortality and I agreed, because I thought he only would take me for the tests and all kind of this stuff. But two days ago he send me an email that he wants all of us and now I don't know what to do. I thought about so many things to get out of this, but I can't do this alone. He has too many informations about us, I'm sure he could find us everywhere if he wants to.”

You gulped at his words. You were relieved that he didn't plan to hand his family over to Copley, otherwise he gave informations about you away. You will have to deal with this later, because you needed to warn Andy, Nicky and Joe, so that they won't arrive in South Sudan and arrange to meet somewhere else to plan any further steps.

“You're an idiot, Sebastien. I have to say this and I won't apologize. All of Copley's plan is dangerous and if you would have really trusted him… well, I don't know what could happen, but you would be very stupid if you let these scientists make any tests with you. None of us will cooperate with Copley or this Merrick man.”

“I know I was an idiot. I… I hope we will find a way out of the misery I caused.”

“There's only one way, Sebastien. We need to find Copley before he finds us,” you simply responded and your eyes were back on the laptop.

Plans changed. We meet at our honeymoon house. Tomorrow. 8 p.m.

You send the messages to the others. You sighed frustrated and looked up at Booker. He seemed anxious and nervous. He tore at his hair and rubbed over his face. Yes, he really fucked up. But you tried to understand his reasons and why he handled like he did. Copley offered him a solution and he saw a chance to change his life. But this wasn't the right way and you knew your husband well enough that you could see he understood he made a mistake and regret his decision.

You were sad that he couldn't arrange himself with his immortality. When you and the others found him in 1813, all he wanted was to stay with his wife and children and you had been so kind to let him. You hadn't have the power to make him to come with you, but you thought it was the mistake he made. He craved for the mortal life of them and his family craved the gift of being immortal. They couldn't have what their hearts desired. Still on the present day Booker had this one wish and you knew it since the day you met him.

The love you shared helped him to get over the lost of his wife and you the both of you were happy, most of the time. The memories of his children, the hatred they felt for him after he wasn't capable of sharing the magic with them. Despite he fell in love with you, his broken heart never healed completely.

“I hope someday you can forgive me,” he whispered and turned his back on you.

“You trusted the wrong person and we have one last chance to stop before it ends worse for us than Copley already planned,” you spoke in a sad tone.

“Your decisions and actions… were selfish. I feel like I'm not enough for you. You intended to leave me. Making your wish come true and assuming I would want the same as you. I love you a billion times to the moon and back and I like the thought to spend an eternity with you. But to learn you want just a handful of years and than closing your eyes forever… that feels like ripping my heart out. You want me to forgive you? You told Copley our secret, you planned a future without me knowing anything about your plan, you revealed informations about us and you believed he wouldn't go after all of us. If you wouldn't have said anything now then the blood would have been on your hands. That would be a lot to forgive, but I know that you didn't plan to hurt anyone of us and this fact is a step in the right direction. It will take time, but I want to forgive you.”

“I don't expect forgiveness. I don't… I can't lose you…”

You were overwhelmed by your feelings just like him. You were upset and scared, you didn't know what the next days would bring and how the others will react what your husband did. But you will stand by his side, even if he broke your trust when he didn't tell everything from the beginning and it will take time to regain the trust. You won't know if he wouldn't do anything like that again.

“I'm your wife and I'll stay with you. But you need to choose… do you want me and our love, a happy life together? Or do you want to live in the past? You're always in the past, but there you can't find me. I know that life wasn't fair to you, but stop blaming yourself that your children couldn't understand you… after all it wasn't your fault that destiny picked you. I can only speak for me, but I don't know what Andy, Nicky and Joe will say.”

Sebastien's eyes met you and the pain you saw in them made your heart aching. “I don't deserve you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and tried to hold back tears.

“I am sorry.”

You had known that the day would come when he couldn't bear it anymore, but you wasn't prepared it would hurt so much.

“Pack our things and I will book us flight tickets to Greece.”

***

[apriorisea]

Angst with yoongi or jungkook. Their girlfriend having a hard time but they didn't think it was smt serious so they weren't there for her and just focusing on work. She didn't say anything to them, just trying to deal with it alone but it's just keep getting worse. She lose some weight, always tired and not so cheerful like before. Eventually they realize it when she faint in their arms (i am sorry it's really long i hope you write smt like that, you are one of my fave writers 👍💜)

--Hi! As usual 😅I apologize that this took so long! Thank you so much for the idea and for your sweet compliments---I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it! I hope you enjoy 💕💜

“The Problem”You x Yoongi

“You really didn’t have to do this,” you say, smiling as you lean across the center console to kiss Yoongi’s cheek. Your smile grows bigger as you see the pleased expression cross his face and add: “But I’m really glad you did.”    He turns his head and kisses you firmly. “I love you,” he says softly. “I’ll take any chance I can to be with you.” He rests his hand on the back of your neck, playfully holding you in place. “In fact, why don’t you just blow off work today, come with me instead?”    You groan, leaning into his arm and brushing your lips against the inside of his wrist. “Don’t tempt me.”    He smiles. “I’m sorry I can’t pick you up tonight. Do you want me to send someone?”    “No.” You lean forward to ask for another kiss, smiling when he gives you what you want. “I’ll just see you at home tonight. Try not to stay too late, okay?” When he smiles an agreement, you give him a wink and climb out of the car. “Love you!”    You’re still smiling when you enter the building, and just before you settle in at your desk, you pull out your phone: This was a terrible idea…you better just come back and get me ;)    His answer comes just as you are opening your email: Perfect. Let’s just drive and drive and drive, yeah?     Two seconds later, he adds: I LOVE YOU.    Grinning, you don’t even read the title of the email before you open it.    The happy mood evaporates immediately. It’s 8:32am on a Monday morning, and your boss is already fuming. The project you and your team had put together had apparently not met his expectations and the deadline to turn in a new, better proposal was by the end of the day. Feeling your stomach twist into knots, you turn to scan the office for your coworkers—meeting the eyes of one of them, you exchange nervous looks. It’s going to be a long day. 

    “He’s just not going to be happy with any of this,” Coworker #2 says, tipping back in his seat irritably. “None of it.”    Another team member, Coworker #3, pushes a strand of hair back behind her ear. “That’s a cheerful outlook, thank you.”    “You know the mood he’s been in lately,” he says darkly. “This feels like a head hunt.”     Glancing at your watch, you struggle to catch your breath. It was 1:36pm and the three of you had been working for hours on a new project proposal. 25 minutes ago the boss had sent a warning email, his tone none the happier. “What do you mean a head hunt?”     He throws his arms in the air exasperatedly. “You know, like, looking to fire someone to get over his bad mood.”     Your other coworker slaps his arm. “Stop it!” she says, genuinely angry. “You don’t know anything about anything. He’s not going to fire anyone over this stupid project!”     The door clicks shut as the fourth and final member of your team walks in, holding a coffee cup. “He knows enough,” he says, sipping his drink. “Word on the street is that we need to downsize and almost anyone could be the target.”    Your anxiety increases at his presence and arrogant words. “He’s not going to fire a whole team over a minor-level project,” you say coolly.    He fixes you with a look. “You’re right. All he needs is one scapegoat.”    Taking a deep breath to stay calm, you give him a look. “Well then, let’s spend more time working and less time talking, huh?”    He eyes you but doesn’t respond, slinking slowly into his seat. Your attention is soon turned to other matters, but you never really lose the pit of nerves that his words had opened. It sits there, festering like an open wound, demanding your attention even when you refuse. By the end of the work day, you are exhausted, mentally and physically, and by the time you reach your apartment, you are an anxious mess: the inside of your lower lip is raw from the constant worried chewing and your head is pounding from the stress.     As you climb the stairs to your apartment, you think about the day: your team had managed to complete a rough draft for the new project proposal just in time, and, though he wasn’t thrilled, your boss had agreed to give you the rest of the week to complete it. You bite down on your lower lip again. It’s not terrible, but it’s also not great.    Reaching your front door, you’re suddenly frozen by the sound of your coworker’s words echoing in your mind: “All he needs is one scapegoat.” Your stomach twists and you force another deep breath before you can open the door.    Stepping out of your shoes, you drop your bag to the ground and survey the apartment: there’s a basket of laundry sitting in the corner of the living room, waiting to be done, and a few dishes still in the sink. Releasing a slow, even breath, you try to let the familiarity of home calm you down.     The team had worked straight through lunch, and you vaguely realized that part of the reason your hands were shaking was because you hadn’t eaten since your piece of toast this morning for breakfast. You open a cupboard door, but as soon as your eyes land on the coffee mugs, your heart races as you hear it again: One scapegoat. You trusted that particular coworker about as far as you could throw him, and the two of you had been at odds constantly lately. I wouldn’t put anything past him, you think, and your stomach lurches. You shut the cupboard and head for the sink.    Sick of hearing your own thoughts, you turn on the TV after you’d finished the dishes and settle in to fold some laundry, trying not to think about the gaping hole of worry eating its way through your stomach. I just have to do the best, you think. I have to be the best member of the team. Then I’m untouchable.    Halfway through the basket of laundry, you hear the door unlock. Yoongi comes in, looking slightly disheveled though his frown fades at the sight of you. “Hi sweetheart,” he says quietly, lining his shoes up next to yours carefully. “Here, I’ll finish that. I meant to do it last night.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and joins you on the floor, reaching for the shirt in your hands.    His presence washes over you and you take a truly deep breath. “It’s okay,” you say, tipping your head over to rest on his shoulder. “How was your day?”    He sighs, and there’s so much in that simple sound that you forget all about your terrible day and turn to look at him.    “What’s going on?” you ask softly, reaching up to smooth a strand of his hair back.    “Long day. Taehyungie’s having a hard time lately, Jimin’s back is giving him problems…Namjoon has a bad case of writer’s block and we still need 4 more songs to even make a mini-album.” He folds the shirt and stacks it carefully on top of the others, then reaches for another. “We’re not sure if we can make the Australian tour happen.”    “Oh no,” you sympathize. “How come?”    “Venue availability, travel….basically everything.” He pauses in between shirts to rub his forehead tiredly.     You kiss his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know how important that tour is to you guys. I’m sure something will work out!”    The laundry now finished, he sighs again and sits back against the couch. Reaching out to pull you into his arms, he kisses your temple. “We’re going to figure it out,” he agrees. “But I’m going to be working a lot these next few days. Probably into the weekend,” he adds, waiting for your reaction.    You cuddle against him. “It’s okay, baby. Do what you need to do.”    “I love you,” he says softly, tipping your chin up so he can kiss you. “How was your day? Have you eaten already?”    The question knocks the wind from you. “Oh. It was fine. I…I already ate, yeah. Sorry.” You push out of his arms so he can’t feel the way your heart races at the lie. “Do you want me to make something?”    “Nope.” He gets to his feet. “We still have leftovers from last night. I’ll just have those. What did you have?”    You stack the folded laundry back in the basket and ignore the question. “I forgot about the leftovers. Hope they still taste good.”    “There’s a lot left,” he calls from the kitchen. “I’ll pack some up and you can take it for lunch tomorrow.”    You feel your stomach squirm. “Thanks.” You push the laundry basket back into the corner and cross your arms over your stomach, watching him as he moved around the kitchen, reheating his leftovers and packing yours for lunch tomorrow. Tomorrow. You think of your boss’ anger, the work left to do, your coworker’s sinister intent……Your hands go cold.    Yoongi brings his food into the living room, sitting on the couch and gesturing to the spot next to him. Some of the feeling returns to your fingers as you climb up next to him, curling up close and resting your head on his shoulder.     “Next week,” he says in-between bites. “We’re going to have date night every night for the whole week.”    You smile, grateful for the way his presence and words melt your icy worry. “That sounds amazing.”    “I mean it,” he insists around a mouth full of food. “Every night. We’ll go to that movie, get dinner at all of our favorite places, stay home and finish our show, go for a drive…anything we want to do. Anything you want to do.”    Turning your head to kiss his shoulder again, you say quietly, “I love you, Yoongi.”    He finishes eating quickly, hopping up to rinse his dish off and returning to you quickly. Through a yawn, he asks, “Are you ready for bed?”    With your mind so full of worry, you hadn’t been looking forward to a whole night of tossing and turning, but when he extends his hand to you, you realize everything would be okay. Putting your hand in his, you nod. “Yes.”    When you’re both settled in bed, he wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against his chest. Leaning down to kiss your neck, he rests his head against yours gently. “So I’m thinking one night we get burgers,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “Pizza for our Netflix night…”    “Mmm.” You close your eyes, letting his soothing voice lull you into a calm. “We definitely need to do sushi one night.”    “Agreed. For our big fancy date night, let’s go to that nice restaurant with the giant steaks!”    You can’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm. “Whatever you want to do. I just want to spend time with you.”    He hugs you close. “I love you, sweetheart. Sleep tight, okay?”    And with him there to keep you safe and push the worries away, you actually do.

The next morning, you hear him get up extra early, but you’re too exhausted to stir. Before he leaves, he kisses your forehead gently. “Have a good day, sweetheart,” he whispers, and then he’s gone.    Your alarm goes off at the usual time, but when you pull your phone to you, you see a screen full of texts. Feeling your stomach lurch, you scan through them: 11 of them are from your coworkers, already panicked about the project. 1 of them is from your bank, reminding you that your payment for student loans was due next week. You set your phone down, heart pounding, and try not to panic. You wish Yoongi were still home.    But he was already gone, so you roll out of bed, get ready as quickly as possible, and force yourself to answer a few texts as you head to the kitchen for breakfast. After a little bit of coordination, you and two of your coworkers have a plan for the day—the third one (the problematic one) hadn’t responded yet. Just as you open your fridge to hunt for some food, you get a private message from your closest coworker: Watch out for SJ, she wrote. I’ve heard he was talking about you the other day during lunch.    Your stomach flips. I knew it. You shut the fridge hard, ignoring the ache in your guts. Pulling on your coat, you grab your bag and take a small breath. You wouldn’t let him get you today.     As you leave the house, you pull out your phone and send Yoongi a text: Is it just me, or is this the most Monday-feeling Tuesday ever???    You’re about to tuck the phone back into your pocket when it buzzes. Eagerly awaiting your boyfriend’s message, you look at the screen expectantly—    And find another text from your coworkers. It brings you back to earth immediately. Your stomach is in knots all the way to the office.

    “Just as long as her name is on it,” your coworker says dramatically, his voice clearly too loud to be a whisper.     Steeling yourself, you look up from your computer. “My name is on what?”    “Section 5,” he says unabashedly.     “What’s wrong with section 5?”    He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”    “Stop being such an ass,” Coworker #2 interrupts, rolling his eyes. “What’s the problem?”    The Problem sighs. “Section 5 is the epitome of what was wrong with the last proposal.”    “According to who?” Your hands are balled into fists in your lap, hidden away from sight.     “The boss, obviously.”    “Oh, he told you that? Personally?” You stand your ground. “Last I knew, he didn’t even remember your name.”    His cheeks flush. “It was obvious. So I just want to make sure that your name is on it, so he knows who to credit when this falls apart.”    “It’s not going to fall apart!” interjects Coworker #3, smoothing her frazzled hair back into a ponytail. “Don’t even put that into the universe!”    “You’re welcome to re-work it,” says Coworker #2.    “You clearly have the time,” you add coolly.     The Problem doesn’t answer, pretending to suddenly be preoccupied with something on his phone. The tenuous silence returns.    The four of you work until lunch time—until 5 minutes before official lunch time, actually, because if you had to spend even 5 more minutes in the same room as him, you were going to murder someone—and as you put your laptop to sleep, you realize how hungry you are.     “Here,” Coworker #2 drops a packet of pretzels on your desk. “You like these, right?”    You nod. “Thanks.”    He gives a faint smile, reaching his arms above his head in a huge stretch. “Don’t let him get to you,” he adds, jerking his head towards the door after The Problem. “He sees you as a threat because you are the most competent person in the whole department.”    You smile. “I’m trying. But this is just more motivation to get this project sorted—then I can go back to ignoring his existence.”    Coworker #2 laughs and reaches out to fist-bump you. “Amen,” he agrees, then grabs his empty-coffee mug off the table and leaves.     Feeling a little lighter now that the you have the room to yourself, you open the packet of pretzels as your stomach growls. You manage to eat 7 before your phone goes off.    Coworker #3: SJ’s going to eat lunch with the Exec Crew today. Such a suck-up.    You set the packet of pretzels down and reply: Is the boss going?     Coworker #3: Of course. He’s probably going to offer to pay and everything.     The weight settles over your shoulders again. You remember the disgust in his eyes, the thinly veiled threats about your job—”And now he has the perfect opportunity,” you whisper to yourself. “He really is going to do whatever he can to get me fired.”    As if the universe had heard you, your phone buzzes with another text: it’s an alert from your bank, reminding you about the bills coming up soon. I can’t lose my job, you think, feeling the panic rush through your entire body.     Ignoring the reminder, you open Yoongi’s text thread. Any chance you’ll be done with work early today?? It joins your last still-unopened message. You stare at your phone for a full minute, hoping to see his return text as it comes in. It doesn’t.    You think about the leftovers sitting in the fridge in the break room and your stomach flips. Pushing the half-empty packet of pretzels away from you, you reboot your laptop. “I have to work harder.”

    You sink into the last empty bus seat, closing your eyes against the pain thundering through your head. It’s 79 minutes past quitting time and you hadn’t even had a chance to look at your phone since lunchtime. You pry your eyes open and fish for your phone, taking a small breath before unlocking it.     Three messages from Coworker #3, four from Coworker #2, and one sarcastic one-liner from The Problem. The pounding in your head increases.     32. From the time your team resumed its work after lunch until you had all finally left the building, The Problem had made 32 pointed comments towards you.     “You don’t even have seniority, you know that, right?”    “We talked about the project at lunch. What a shame you weren’t there.”    “Last quarter’s numbers weren’t ideal, that’s what he told me. There’s a lot of dead weight in the company, especially in our department. Especially on our team.”    Rubbing the back of your neck tiredly, you leave the text thread without replying and open the next new message. It’s another bank reminder: the deadline on your payment was coming a lot sooner than you remembered.      How did it get to this point? You stare out the window blankly. I used to love my job. What did I ever do to get this target on my back?     You open your phone again, navigating to your text-thread with your boyfriend. He still hasn’t read either of your earlier messages. You must be busy today.     Still no answer. You turn back to look out the window, ignoring the pain in your head and stomach. After almost missing your stop, you trudge towards your apartment, your mind too full to pay attention to anything else.     They talked about things at lunch. They must have talked about ME at lunch. He’s going to get me fired. You bump into someone and don’t bother apologizing. He is actually actively working to get rid of me. Why?     Fumbling for your phone again, you send a private message to Coworker #3: What does SJ gain by getting me fired??    Her return message comes as you are unlocking your door. You force yourself to get inside and out of your shoes and coat before looking at it.     Coworker #3: You’re obviously the biggest threat in the department. You know he’s looking for a fast-track promotion. If he can get rid of you, that’s one less hurdle he’ll have to jump. You okay? He was such an asshole today.     Dropping your bag on the floor angrily, you move to the kitchen, hunting for the bottle of aspirin. Everyday* you correct. But he’s crazy.  If our project tanks, he’ll go down with it. You down three tablets without water.     Coworker #3: He thinks he can weasel his way out of it, obviously.    Coworker #3: But anyway, don’t worry about it. We’re going to be fine. You doing okay? Did you even get a chance to eat lunch today???    You pause at this, setting your phone on the counter to pull open the fridge. Leftovers, milk, fruit, vegetables, eggs, kimchi, yogurt…You feel a pain in your stomach and can’t decide if it’s hunger or something else. Your gaze un-focuses as you stare, and suddenly all you can see are bills and numbers. The pain in your stomach grows and you slam the fridge shut.     I can’t lose this job. I have too many bills to pay. If I get fired, I’m going to be so far behind on every single payment. I CAN’T lose this job.     The buzz from your phone causes an immediate anxious reaction to jolt through your whole body: your chest feels tight, your heart starts pounding, the pain in your head feels blinding, your stomach flips. Forcing a deep breath, you slowly reach for the device again.     The knot in your stomach immediately untangles as soon as you see the name on the message. Exhaling roughly, you open Yoongi’s message eagerly.    Yoongi Hi sweetheart. I’m sorry ~ so busy today. And I’m going to be home late tonight. :(     Your relief fades quickly.    YoongiAre you okay? How was your day?     Glancing at the time, you feel the knot retie with a vengeance. When your boyfriend said “late,” he meant late. “He won’t be back before midnight,” you whisper to yourself. The apartment gets a little smaller around you. Trying to push the darkness away, you ignore his questions: I love you. Be safe!     Locking the screen, you turn back to the fridge. Holding the device close to your chest, you stare at the door. Replaying the images of what the fridge held, you tried to convince yourself to eat one of them—but with each mental picture, the knot grew tighter and you felt like you were going to throw up.     Turning away from the fridge explosively, you wandered into the living room. You realized suddenly how much you’d been relying on Yoongi’s presence to help ease the current of tension that was flowing nonstop through your entire body. Now, faced with the prospect of hours without him, you had nothing to distract you but the fear.     You watch Netflix (the volume up loud in an attempt to drown out your own thoughts) and play mindless phone games until 11:15pm. Your entire body aches with exhaustion and stress, but you still spend five more minutes staring at the front door in vain, waiting for him to come back. Eventually, you get slowly to your feet and trudge down the hall to the bedroom. You spend extra time washing your face, delaying the inevitable, but when you finally crawl into bed you’re exactly as distraught as you had expected.     Not even the white noise machine can help you tonight. You toss and turn for hours, watching the clock on your nightstand tick past midnight.     Every time you close your eyes, you’re bombarded with visions of bills and loans and banks and evil coworkers and your angry boss. You see papers stamped with bright red lettering: TERMINATED. The Problem’s words echo constantly. You manage to fall into a light, troubled sleep, and find yourself stuck in the dream-version of the day’s lunch. At the exact moment that your Dream-Boss and Dream-The-Problem turn to you in unison and say “YOU’RE FIRED” you startle awake. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s 2am and you’re still alone. Squeezing your eyes shut tight, you feel the hot tears build underneath your eyelids and fight down the urge to call him. You struggle for another 20 minutes before sleep finally takes you.      Five minutes after you pass out, he comes home. 

The next morning, you startle awake at the sound of your alarm. Scrambling to turn it off, you realize that you can’t move easily. The panic eventually gives way to relief: you’re tangled in Yoongi’s arms, wrapped tight in his hug. Carefully, you manage to reach out an arm to shut off the alarm, then shift gingerly so you’re facing him. He stirs a little, his embrace tightening reflexively, and you give-in: burying your face in his chest, you give yourself the 10 snooze minutes.     Now that you’re wrapped in his arms, all the things that had kept you awake seemed distant and tiny. For the first time in the last 24 hours, you feel the pain in your stomach fade.     But too soon, your snooze alarm goes off. It’s time. Taking one last deep breath in his circle of safety, you gently untangle yourself from his grasp, unable to keep the faint smile off your face at his sleep-mumbled complaint. What I’d give to be able to stay right here, all day. But…    I need this job. I’ve got to fight.     So instead, you gently stroke his hair until he falls back into his deep-slumber. Realizing how late he must have gotten home, you fight down a pang of disappointment: he’d be asleep for a few hours more. Just what he needed, definitely, but you would be long gone by then. Pulling yourself together, you manage to get ready quietly and quickly, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead.     You plant a soft kiss on Yoongi’s forehead before you go, drawing a last bit of strength before heading out to face your dragons.  

    10:00am. You feel your phone buzz in your pocket but ignore it. You’re sitting sandwiched between Coworkers #2 and #3, The Problem on the far end. The boss hasn’t spoken for the last 5 minutes.     Finally, he sighs. “I’ve come to expect much more from this department,” he says, meeting your eyes seriously. “This new proposal…it’s better. But is it really what it ought to be?”    The Problem jumps in before you can even blink. “No, sir, I completely agree. It’s not up to standards. It—”    “I think it can be fixed,” your boss continues, speaking over the other man easily. He meets your eyes again. “But it is going to take a lot of work. For example, the proposed direction in Section 4 seems a bit messy.”    The Problem is nodding. “Team Leader was in charge of that section.”   Coworker #2 stiffens next to you. “No, she wasn’t,” he snaps. “I-I mean,” the flush creeps up his neck. “Sir, our team worked together on each section and each proposal. Of course.”    You don’t look over at The Problem. This is exactly what you had been expecting.    “Of course, of course,” The Problem simpers. “But, obviously, we follow the direction of our project manager, don’t we, sir?”    Your boss raises one eyebrow at you. “Well?”    “We all worked together on this proposal, sir,” you say calmly, though your insides are twisting together again. “And, obviously, no part would have gone through without full consent from the entire team. Right?” you direct the question to The Problem, but don’t bother looking at him.    He clears his throat. “We follow your inspiration, team leader.”    You hear Coworker #3 hiss under her breath next to you.     Your boss is studying The Problem carefully. Finally, he looks back at his tablet screen. “Sections 4, 7, and 10 all need some re-working. Can you have it done by tomorrow?”    The tiny bit of satisfaction you felt at realizing none of those sections had been your assigned responsibility bleeds away at the deadline. Tomorrow??  Your head aches. After a moment, you realize he’s waiting for you to respond. “Absolutely, sir,” you agree steadily. “We will work hard.”    “I expect nothing less,” he agrees. “Make sure it is as streamlined as possible. We want no further problems going forward.”    “Yes, sir,” the three of you parrot together; The Problem’s answer is more drawn-out and sickeningly sweet. You don’t look at him as the four of you leave your boss’ office. 

    7pm. 2 hours past quitting time and the four of you were still holed-up in the conference room together.     The Problem gets to his feet loudly, heading for the door.   “Where are you going?” demands Coworker #2; his hair is messy and out of place, his glasses slightly askew.    “Smoke-break,” he answers. “Can’t be in this room for one second longer.” He lets the door slam shut behind him.    Coworker #3 rolls her shoulders out. “Funny,” she says darkly. “If he was in this room for one second longer, I think I’d rip his stupid little head off.”    Coworker #2 turns to you. “I don’t know how you managed to keep your cool all day today, honestly. I wanted to punch him in the mouth 3 times in that meeting alone.”    You sigh and sit back in your chair.  The atmosphere in the room had changed as soon as The Problem had left. “I just want to finish this project,” you say honestly. I have to be the best possible, so there’s no room for judgment or complaint. “The sooner it ends, the sooner we can get away from him.”    “I know where he parks his car,” Coworker #3 offers helpfully. “It would be such a shame if his tires got slashed somehow…”    You share a small grin with her; a grin that fades as you realize how long it’d been since you smiled. The muscles in your face ached from the simple gesture.    “Here,” Coworker #2 plops another bag of mini pretzels in front of you. “Snack break! Better eat now before he comes back and turns all our stomachs…”    You scoff humorlessly. Staring at the bag of snacks, you feel your stomach twist. The last thing you wanted to do was eat anything right now, but then you calculate how long it had been since you’d eaten anything. Oh. That’s probably not healthy. Opening the bag, you pretend not to notice how much your hands are shaking. I need to eat a little, you convince yourself. Every part of you is tired and aching. How much longer can I go on like this?    Until this is over, your stubborn side kicks in. Until the danger is passed. Until you know your job is safe. Suck it up.    You manage to eat ¾ of the bag before The Problem returns and, just as your coworkers predicted, as soon as he’s back in the room you’re no longer hungry. Pushing the pretzels away angrily, the four of you return to silent, tense work for another 2 hours. 

You climb into bed at 10pm that night, too exhausted to be kept up by worries. By tomorrow it’ll be all over. You vaguely wonder if you should be more worried about how much the dark edges around your vision are growing. The last thing you feel before falling into a dreamless sleep is how much your stomach hurts.     You’re startled awake at 12:03am.     “Sorry, sweetheart,” you hear Yoongi’s voice permeate the darkness.     Seconds later, you feel his arms wrap around you. You roll over immediately, snuggling against his chest.     “I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says hoarsely, pulling the blanket higher up over you. “I’m so sorry.”    You shake your head. “Are you okay?”     He sighs, a heavy and weary sound that goes straight to your heart.  “I’m fine.”    “Liar,” you accuse gently, hugging him a little tighter. “What’s going on?”    “Just busy. We’re working hard. Same as usual…”     You press a kiss to his collarbone. “I know. You need to get some rest.”     He crushes you closer. “I love you, sweetheart. I’m sorry I woke you up. You must be exhausted, too. Let’s get some rest, both of us, yeah?”    “Okay,” you breathe, already feeling your eyelids growing heavy again. “Goodnight, baby.”    He spreads a few soft kisses across your face. “Goodnight, my darling girl.”

The next morning, your alarms go off at the same time and you struggle awake together. You’re both moving too slow, so you’re almost late, but he still insists on driving you to work that day. On the way over, you don’t talk much, but he holds your hand over the center console like usual and that keeps you steady.    When he pulls up in front of your building, you lean over to give him a kiss. “Have a good day, Yoongi,” you say, but your attention is already on what awaits you inside.     “You too, sweetheart,” he says, but he doesn’t let go of your hand. Studying you, he frowns a little. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little pale—”    You power-up a false smile. “Don’t worry. I love you!” You press another kiss to his cheek and escape under this pretense.     When you get out of the car, he reaches to roll your window down to call after you, but just then his phone buzzes so he abandons the idea and answers as he pulls away.    You don’t turn around to watch him go, but your heart still flips when you hear the car leave. Staring up at your office building, you feel a sudden rush of dizziness and have to shut your eyes for a moment until it passes.    The last day, you remind yourself. I need this job, I need this job, I need this job.    You walk into the office and see Coworkers #2 and #3 sitting at their desks already. #2 is on the phone, but he gives you a bright smile as you walk past.     “Hey! Are you—” Coworker #3′s voice falters as you move past her seat. “Whoa, are you okay?”    You hesitate only slightly. “What?”    She’s frowning. “You look really pale,” she says, lowering her voice slightly. “And have you lost weight?? You—”    “I’m fine.” You feel the tips of your ears burn: if The Problem heard talk like this, it would be yet another way he could take you down. “Just tired.”    “Are you sure? If—”    “Positive,” you cut her off again. “Thanks. Plus, today’s the day, right? After this, things will be better.” Your stomach aches at the reminder.  I can’t fail. “We better get to work!” You attempt cheerfulness and fail miserably.     Coworker #3 gives you a furtive look, but doesn’t bring it up again.     The Problem walks in exactly on time, sighing dramatically before flopping into his chair. Leaning back in his chair, he looks around the room, his gaze landing on you. “Well, here we are. I hope everyone is confident in their individual work…?” He lets it hang in the air.    Coworker #2 sets the phone down too hard, already irritated. “I’m sure we’re all confident in both our personal AND our group work. Right?” He stares at The Problem until the other man is forced to look away from you.     He pastes a sickening smile on his face. “Of course.”    “Then let’s get started,” you say, trying to keep your voice devoid of any emotion. “We’ve only got 8 hours left.”

    Hour 1: The four of you work in silence. The Problem gets up twice to refill his coffee, making much more noise than is necessary. You get another text from your bank.     Hour 2: A portion of Coworker #2′s work didn’t save correctly. The ensuing meltdown leaves you frazzled and The Problem gleeful.    Hour 3: The Problem sneaks away and is later found chatting in the staff room by Coworker #3. She doesn’t tell you everything he was saying, but the pit in your stomach knows well enough.    Hour 4: You make sure everyone triple saves their work as lunchtime nears. The Problem goes on another secret mission but returns deflated: the bosses are having a private lunch and he was not allowed to join. The secret satisfaction you feel at this fades as he critically looks over one portion of your work. You skip lunch to continue working.   Hour 5: Somehow, The Problem’s attitude has gotten even worse since lunch. He snarks and sneers and reluctantly helps Coworker #3 on their joint section. While they’re bickering, Coworker #2 sends you a file: it’s a list of incidents and complaints that he’s preparing to send to the boss and HR. You manage a tiny, real smile.    Hour 6: The Problem finally directly challenges you on a portion of the project that you’ve worked on. Backed by both of your other coworkers, the three of you manage to shout him down. He works half-heartedly on his assigned portion.    Hour 7: Your stomach hurts so much. Every time you take a small break from the work in front of you, it feels like it’s going to swallow you whole. You force yourself to drink some water, but it sloshes too uncomfortably in your empty stomach. Your head aches and you feel unbelievably tired. Almost there…   Hour 8: Fifteen minutes before the deadline, you save, double-save, triple-save, and back-up the project to 3 different locations.     “It’s finished,” Coworker #2 says, leaning back in his chair and rubbing at his eyes violently.    “I guess,” scoffs The Problem, getting to his feet. He locks eyes with you. “Hope you feel good about it, Team Leader.” Without waiting for a response, he turns on his heel and heads for the door. “See you guys in there. I’ve got something to do.”     Out of the corner of your eye, you see Coworker #2 add something to his list.    “Ignore him,” Coworker #3 encourages; she clearly is still very worried about you. “It’s going to be fine. I think we’ve done some good work here.”

     The walk from your shared office space to the boss’ office isn’t very far, but by the end of it, your legs feel like jelly, your heart is pounding, you’re short of breath, and your head is screaming. You sink into the nearest chair, trying to convince yourself that you were fine. Your stomach aches.    The meeting is short. The Problem tries 3 times to throw you under the bus, but at this point, you and your other two coworkers are prepared and unified. By the end, even your boss seems irritated with The Problem—at least, you think that’s what is happening. You can’t really be sure anymore, to be honest: your vision is going slightly blurry, the dark edges growing, and you feel incredibly light-headed.    45 minutes past usual quitting time, your boss gives you a solemn nod. “Well done,” he says seriously. “This project is much better and more what I was expecting. Thank you.”    The relief washes over you and you feel weak.     “Well done, Team Leader,” your boss adds, then gives Coworkers #2 and #3 a smile. “Now go home and get some rest.” It might be your current physical state, but you swear he gives The Problem a slightly disapproving look.     It must be real, because The Problem is the first to leave, disappearing without another look at any of you. Somewhat numb, you get to your feet with the other two, following them out of the office. As soon as the three of you are out of sight of the boss’ office, Coworker #2 gathers both of you into a giant hug.     “We did it!!!! Oh man!” He releases you with a huge exhale. “We should celebrate! Dinner? Drinks? Meat??”    Coworker #3 gives him a look, then tilts her head towards you meaningfully. “I think I’m just going to take our brilliant Team Leader home.”    He turns to look at you, and even in your fuzzy state you can see the look of concern that crosses his face. “Oh, right. Yeah. Let’s get some rest tonight. We can celebrate tomorrow!”    You manage a smile. “Sounds good. G-good job you guys.”    Coworker #3 loops her arm through yours securely. “It’s all because of you, oh fearless leader!” she quips. “Let’s go!”    Sitting in the passenger seat of her car, you try to relax; the last thing you wanted was for her to have to walk you up to your apartment door. So you fake a brighter smile, thank her for the ride, and hop out before she can offer to help. You turn to wave as she drives away, gritting your teeth against the way your head starts spinning, but wait until she’s gone before you move.     I did it. You think as you slowly climb the stairs. I made it. I’m not going to get fired. Things are going to be okay. Your stomach flips and you have to pause for a second: Don’t throw up, don’t throw up, don’t throw up.     You wait until the feeling passes.     I just need to get inside. Lie down for a while….maybe…maybe eat? The house will be cool and empty and calm.     Empty. You realize you hadn’t texted Yoongi all day. Now that things were over, you could finally relax around him, tell him the truth. You stumble on the last step, nearly face-planting but saving yourself at the last second.     Just need to…lie….down.     You punch in the door code, push it open, step inside—and are startled to see Yoongi sitting on the couch.     “Baby—” he gets to his feet, a smile on his face, but it disappears when he sees you.     The surprise is too much for your already-battered body. You try to step towards him and everything goes dark. 

    Fortunately for you, he was already moving towards you when you crumpled; he managed to catch you before you hit the floor, cradling you carefully against him in a state of controlled panic.     You wake up as the EMTs are loading you into the ambulance, and the only thing that stops you from freaking out is the sound of his voice.     “I don’t think she’s eaten for a while,” he’s saying as he climbs in next to you. “She’s overworked, overtired—Maybe dehydrated? I don’t—”    “It’s okay, sir,” one of the medics says. She gives him a small smile. “She’s going to be fine.”    “Yoongi…” you mumble, his name getting lost in the oxygen mask over your face, but at that moment he turns to look at you anyway.     Exhaling in relief, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he reassures you, brushing your hair away from your face. “I’m here.”    Something about the combination of your complete exhaustion, the motion of the ambulance, the oxygen mask, and the warmth of Yoongi’s presence lulls you into a light sleep.     There’s a transfer from the ambulance to the emergency room, from gurney to hospital bed. There’s several people in scrubs and masks that look you over. You vaguely feel the prick of the IV in your arm. You’re asked a lot of questions and you give a lot of answers you can’t remember, but eventually, you’re left alone.    Almost.    Taking your hand, Yoongi leans down to kiss your forehead again. “You’re going to be okay,” he says softly against your skin. “Oh, baby, I’m so sorry.”    You shake your head weakly. “You don’t have to apologize. I—”    “You’re extremely dehydrated,” he cuts over you, tightening his hold on your hand. “I don’t think you’ve slept well for days. And you…you said you hadn’t eaten for—since Monday?? Sweetheart, I….” he’s getting worked up.      You squeeze his hand. “It’s not your fault.”     Exhaling shakily, he meets your eyes. “Why?”     “Well—” you suddenly look at him. “Wait. Don’t you need to be at work right now? What about the tour problems? And Tae? And Jimin’s back. And—”    “Stop.” He finally pulls a chair close to the bed and sits. “I only need to be here right now. With you. This is where I should have been for the last few days, then maybe we wouldn’t be here right now.”    You close your eyes in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.”    Pressing the back of your knuckles to his lips, he shakes his head and murmurs. “Don’t say sorry. Let’s just talk. Tell me everything.”   So you do. You tell him all about the project, The Problem, your boss, your coworkers, the bank notifications, everything.     “And I just got so worked up over it,” you finish tiredly. “I didn’t want to talk about it. And then I knew you were busy, so I didn’t want to bother you….and things just got out of control.”    He nods slowly. “I should’ve paid better attention,” he says quietly. “We were both too wrapped up in our own things. Never again, I promise you.” He reaches up to brush your hair back again. “I will do better at my job of keeping you safe and healthy and happy, okay? I promise.”     You’re too tired to argue so you just nod.     Smiling, he reaches up to kiss you softly. “And in return,” he adds, stroking the side of your face, “You have to talk to me. About all the things, all right? Especially the ones that make you worried and want to stop eating. Can you do that?”     You nod again. “I think I can manage that.”     “Also, you have to promise to do whatever it takes to stay healthy, okay? I can’t live without you,” he smiles. “So it’s your responsibility to take care of the most precious thing on this earth. Understood?”      You roll your eyes but fondly. “I love you,” you say quietly.       He kisses the tip of your nose. “I love you more. Now, let’s get you some rest so we can go home and snuggle. Okay?”    You laugh lightly and agree.

    When you’re finally released from the hospital, Yoongi insists on pushing your hospital-mandated wheelchair out to the waiting car. He wraps an arm around your waist and basically carries you to the backseat, helping you in before shutting the door behind you both securely. He holds you close on the ride on home; you rest your head on his shoulder gratefully.     The babying continues when you arrive back at the apartment: he scoops you into his arms and carries you all the way up to your place, commenting in a displeased voice: “You’re too light, babygirl. You need to stay healthy.”    You give his neck a squeeze. “Whatever you say,” you agree, resting your head against his shoulder. At his light scoff-laugh, you smile. “I’m just trying to live up to my promises!”    “Sure, sure.”     As soon as you reach the apartment, he takes you straight to bed, settling you in your spot and tucking the blanket around you securely. Kissing your cheek, he says, “Now. What do you want to eat? Anything you want, baby.”    “Um….” you pretend to think hard. “Maybe…kimbap? BBQ? Pizza? Soup?” At his humored expression, you grin. “Everything sounds good!”    “Then everything,” he says, kissing your lips softly, “is what you shall have.”    While you both wait for the food to arrive, he never leaves your side. You cuddle against him, watching mindless TV and drinking from the water bottles he keeps pressing into your hands until he’s satisfied.     He insists on feeding you the first few bites of food until you finally rebel, accepting his kiss happily instead. The two of you eat in relative silence, and you realize just how hungry you are.    Tipping your head over onto his shoulder, you say softly, “I’m sorry I worried you.”    He turns slightly to kiss your temple again. “You’re safe, sweetheart. That’s all that matters.”    At that moment, your phone goes off. Your knee-jerk reaction is panic, but it immediately fades as you remember that everything is over and Yoongi is there next to you. Still, you take a small breath before reading the screen. The smile spreads across your face slowly.    Yoongi glances at you. “What is it?”    You turn the screen towards him:    Coworker #3: YOU GUYS. SJ just got transferred to another department!!!!!! He can never bug us again!!!!!!!!!    Yoongi grins with you. “That’s great news.” He kisses you again. “See? Everything is going to be fine.”    “You’re right.”     He clears the almost-empty food containers off the bed and when he climbs back in, you snuggle into his side automatically. He wraps his arms around you and presses a few soft kisses all over your face. “I love you so much,” he says in between kisses. “I’m so proud of you. You did it.”    “Yes,” you agree, feeling your eyes close all on their own. I did. 

[diavolodigitale]

The Hitchhiker's Guide to Andromeda Galaxy - pt.4 Voeld

And, finally, this is the last existing part of this pathetic piece of writing. It is even more awkward than the previous ones since here you can witness attempts at “plot”. Anyway, there is no continuation to this and never will be unless someone manages to convince me otherwise (I don’t think it’s possible though). 

Genres: comedy, romance (vaguely), friendship maybe.

Pairing: m!Ryder/Evfra

Characters: Ryder, Evfra, Jaal, others occasionally 

Rating: PG

Warnings: cringe alert!

Size: this atrocity is around 17 PAGES LONG so, yeah, keep that in mind

All chapters: Pt.1 - Pt.2 - Pt.3 - Pt.4 ----- All chapters in PDF

“Pathfinder, you have a new email,” rang out SAM’s lifeless voice on the bridge.

“Thanks, SAM,” replied Ryder even though he didn’t really have to.

He approached the terminal, wondering who the email might be from.

“I bet it’s Peebee,” presumed Kalo when Ryder approached the terminal, “you know how she likes sending emails instead of just coming up to you and communicating directly.”

“I can hear you!” yelled Peebee from the escape pod and loudly dropped something on the floor.

 Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I received information according to which colonists from Taerve Uni attacked the Resistance Base. I do not know any details yet. The shuttle of the colonists is now being examined by my specialists.

I advise you not to spread the word on the Nexus. Come to Voeld as soon as possible. I will meet you at the Base.

 “Shit,” mumbled Ryder, dismayed by the news. “Kalo, we’re changing the course. The new destination point is Voeld.”

On their way James was sweating profusely. He felt flustered and didn’t know what to expect from the situation. He was afraid that the moment they stepped onto the icy surface of Voeld, the Resistance soldiers would raise their weapons and no negotiations would be held. Ever.

“You okay?” Vetra closed the door to the airlock section where he was sitting and approached him.

“Could be better,” he answered without even raising his head.

“Who else knows?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.

“Jaal, obviously.”

“Yeah, not telling him would be stupid. If things go south, he’s the only one who can help us out.”

“I just hope everything isn’t how we think it is,” said Ryder quietly and sighed. “We cannot allow any mistakes. With angara, there are no second chances.”

“Don’t think about it yet, we’ll draw a conclusion when we see everything with our own eyes.”

“Thank you,” James exhaled loudly as if their conversation helped him to calm down a bit and looked at Vetra. “I mean it,” he said and forced himself to smile a bit.

“Stop it. I’m so used to your dumb jokes that seeing you being sincere seems freaky.”

“I knew my sense of humor isn’t that bad,” said Ryder more gaily and lightly bumped Vetra’s shoulder with his fist. “You should appreciate it while I’m here with you all, ‘cause something tells me Evfra is going to beat the crap outta me. Then I won’t be able to come up with such ingenious jokes anymore.”

“You’re overexaggerating. I think you’ll still be able to talk, hon,” retorted Vetra and returned him the whack.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

They set together until the Tempest landed. Following Evfra’s advice, Ryder decided not to tell anybody on the Nexus or aboard the ship about the reason for their coming to Voeld. He didn’t want to make the crew agitated before confirming or disproving the information he got. This didn’t include Vetra because he knew he could trust her with such matters: she was the pillar of strength in every difficult situation, always able to think clearly in spite of unfavorable circumstances. Jaal was the second one to be let in on this secret since keeping him in the dark when it came to his people was simply mean. He was the member of the Resistance after all.

“Are you going to tell us what’s all the fuss about?” asked Suvi when Ryder was hastily leaving the ship. The tension aboard the Tempest was practically palpable at this point.

“Nope,” he answered without hesitation.

“All the emails are supposedly checked by the Nexus, so if something’s up, we’ll know sooner or later,” stated Kalo, remotely closing the lock after the Pathfinder left.

“Should’ve known that…” hissed Peebee in her escape pod, rummaging in her observer.

“Wait, Kalo, open the lock!” Vetra rushed onto the bridge in full gear. Jaal followed her swiftly.

“Guys, could you have made up your minds sooner?” asked Kalo irritably.

“Hurry up and open the lock or he’ll leave without us!” Vetra was clearly pissed and couldn’t see any reason for Kalo’s incompliance.

“If you exploit mechanical parts of the ship too much, they break faster and—”

“Kalo!”

“There is really no need to be so rude…” Kalo felt like complaining, but still did what he was asked to.

Using her jump-jet, Vetra made it to James in a couple long jumps.

“Hey, Ryder! What about us?” She caught up with him and stopped on his way.

“I think it’s best if you stay on the Tempest. I’ll deal with it on my own, nobody has to get in trouble. I’m the Pathfinder and it’s my responsibility,” he said dejectedly.

Vetra clicked her tongue and crossed her arms.

“Ryder, let me come with you,” almost pleaded Jaal in a hoarse voice; he was obviously anxious. “I may be able to change Evfra’s mind. I have known him for a long time now, you won’t handle him alone.”

James had already decided to go into the beast’s lair on his own so now he was just thinking over the plausible excuses to make everybody stay aboard the ship.

Vetra knocked on his helmet with her index finger.

“Hello? Anybody in there?”

Pathfinder loudly coughed and, trying to calm himself down a bit, started his impromptu speech.

“You know, I am really grateful to you all, but there are moments in life when you just have to accept some things and be ready to sacrifice…”

“Boy oh boy, he really thinks this nonsense will work,” said Vetra in a monotonous voice.

It seemed to Ryder that she even rolled her eyes under her helmet.

“Just take Jaal and go. But I want a full report after,” she conceded, “since you’ve decided that I should know about all this. See you later, I guess.”

Ryder and Jaal exchanged quick glances as she returned to the ship.

“Fair enough.” Pathfinder wiped the screen of his helmet with his left hand. The snow was clogging it, making it impossible to see.

The Tempest had landed right near the Resistance Base. Ryder didn’t want to go to the human colony until he saw what really happened and decided what to think of it.

Evfra was waiting for him inside the construction hunched over the reports lying on the table. It was dead cold, as always, but, because James was so uneasy, he felt as if he was on Elaaden with its scorching sun and torrid sands.

“Pathfinder,” sharply said Evfra, still towering over the pile of datapads on the table. That startled Ryder who was at the moment thinking of how to initialize the conversation.

“Evfra… I already forgot how cold it is on Voeld on days like this…” James was nervously rubbing the holster of a pistol attached to his leg. Jaal tried to encourage him with a light pat on the back, letting him know that he was still there.

“I’ve inspected everything. No casualties from our side. A few angara are mildly injured, but nothing serious,” went on Evfra. Surprisingly to Ryder, he did not even sound particularly mad.

“Meaning… you are not going to beat me?” asked the Pathfinder cautiously.

“I was thinking about that,”—Evfra finally turned around and faced Ryder—“but no. Not today, at least.” He nodded to Jaal, recognizing his presence.

“What about those who attempted an attack?” asked Jaal who obviously had more control of himself than Ryder.

“Little is known for sure. They were wearing colonists’ outfits. The shuttle also belonged to the colony. Nobody survived the attack, so we couldn’t interrogate them. At the moment we have a crashed shuttle and five unidentified bodies,” emotionlessly reported Evfra.

Jaal addressed Ryder, who looked like he was awaiting further intelligence still.

“Ryder, we should take a look at the shuttle.”

“Yes, of course. Let’s go,” agreed the Pathfinder almost immediately.

Evfra led Ryder and Jaal to the crash site. A few angaran soldiers were guarding it.

“Quite far from the Base itself,” noticed Jaal.

“Yes, and only one shuttle. It doesn’t look like a well-planned intrusion to me.” Evfra dismissed the soldiers and invited the Pathfinder to examine the site.

With estranged look and blank mind, Ryder began scanning. Even though Evfra didn’t seem mad and the other angara weren’t hostile towards him, the situations worried him. He couldn’t understand why somebody would do something like this. The colony on Voeld symbolized the union of two races and served the needs of both. People who agreed to live there knew what they signed up for when they came to the planet shared with the angara.

“Pathfinder, I cannot identify these people. They are not on the list of Voeld inhabitants,” reported SAM using public channel.

“What about the Nexus?” asked Ryder, confused. “We are the only people who came to Andromeda. There is no way they are not from the Nexus.”

“At the moment I have no access to full census. You can request that the next time you’re on the station,” responded SAM.

Ryder continued to scan, desperate to find at least some useful clues, while Evfra and Jaal were examining the bodies and the equipment of the intruders.

“The clothes as well as some of their supplies indeed come from Taerve Uni. They were listed as missing a week ago,” continued SAM after Ryder scanned the leftovers of a few containers.

“Why didn’t we receive any reports about that?” he asked. It seemed as quite an important piece of information to not share with the leadership of the Nexus.

“Perhaps, the governor of the colony considered it to be too insignificant to inform the Pathfinder,” assumed Jaal.

“What about their weapons?” asked Ryder the AI, agitated.

“The colonists do not use these models. They come from elsewhere.”

Evfra was looking through the possession of one of the attackers when he found an almost undamaged datapad. He shook the snow and ashes off of it and held it out to the Pathfinder.

“Ryder, take a look at this.”

“Is it… kett?” Ryder scanned the datapad just to be sure, although he could already recognize those scribbles. “It’s encrypted. SAM, can you decode it?”

“Yes, Pathfinder. I would need a few minutes to do that.”

Ryder’s worries grew bigger and bigger starting from the minute he read Evfra’s email on his terminal on the Tempest. Worse than human colonists attacking the Resistance Base could be only human colonists affiliated with the kett.

“Hey, human,” Evfra addressed James after watching him struggling with himself for a minute or so, “do not lose hope yet. The attempt was too disorganized. I don’t think your people are planning a conspiracy against angara. Although, if we presumed that you were the one responsible for it, then all the sloppiness would be justified, and we should lock you up.”

Jaal chuckled softly. For somebody whose people have recently been attacked, both Jaal and Evfra seemed a little bit too carefree.

Soon SAM’s voice distracted Ryder from his thoughts and brought back to the real world.

“Pathfinder, I have decrypted the data. This datapad appears to hold the plans regarding the attack. It also includes the navpoints as well as the layouts of the angaran Resistance Base on Voeld as well as for the human colony Taerve Uni.”

The details SAM discovered didn’t quite fit into the picture in general, so Jaal said aloud what, perhaps, most of those who gathered there were concerned about.

“I do not understand why the colonists would need the navpoints for these locations. If they live on Voeld, they should know where the Base is situated since they cooperate tightly with the Resistance.”

Ryder was barely listening. He couldn’t apprehend that somebody on his side would commit such a treachery so he decided to get to know the truth, whatever the cost. He used his omni-tool to get in touch with the Tempest.

“Suvi, contact Priya Blake and ask her about the missing clothes and supplies. I want to know everything. Also check where one can find these weapons. I’m sending the scans.”

“Will do,” calmly answered Suvi without asking any additional questions.  

“Let’s get back inside. I’ve heard humans don’t perform very well in the cold,” rather stated than offered Evfra and headed back into the building.

James silently agreed and followed. On their way inside, Jaal approached him, worried about his reaction to the events.

“Evfra is right. You should not lose hope, Ryder. Anything is possible, especially if the kett are involved. And you shouldn’t forget that he also will not abandon attempts to establish beneficial cooperation between our species that easily. Even though he tries to pretend that he will.”

Ryder simply nodded in response.

“Do all humans value our alliance as much as you do, Pathfinder?” asked Evfra inside the hideout, already nestling beside a specially constructed heater. His voice gave in his genuine interest.

“Frankly speaking, I have no idea. I just try to believe they do,” answered Ryder. He had not given it much thought previously.

“So, at the moment everything holds only on your initiative? In that case, I would really like to know about your motivation. Besides survival of the species.”

Ryder took some time to reflect on his own viewpoint. There weren’t any other species in the Andromeda galaxy with which his people could build an alliance, but it seemed to him that something made him feel a special kind of sympathy towards angara.

“You know, while on Aya, I met your chief astronomer, Maariko,” he said, confusing everybody as to how it related to Evfra’s questions. “He asked me to find several missing anagaran satellites. To cut the long story short, we found out that they were scavenged and taken to pieces by exiles from Kadara, and the team he sent to locate those satellites was vanquished. I wasn’t responsible for that, exiles aren’t part of the Nexus anymore, but still… When I told him what happened, he was so… disappointed. He was so enthusiastic about our people working together, but this news made him change so drastically. Seeing him like that made me feel the worst I have ever felt in my life,” he summed up. He sounded tired and upset having to recall this story.

Evfra wistfully hemmed. He took a seat on the chair at his desk and turned to face Ryder and Jaal.

“Is regret your driving force then? Do you do this only because you’re ashamed and want to prove that humans aren’t that bad?”

“I—”

“Evfra,” almost exclaimed Jaal, interrupting James with no remorse. “Ryder must not feel ashamed of what other humans do, the same way we are not ashamed of the deeds of Akksul and his kind. Every individual is responsible only for his own actions.”

“I see you two grew to understand each other quite well…” said Evfra and nodded to himself. “But it doesn’t matter. Your worries are groundless. I am not trying to offend the Pathfinder, Jaal. I just wanted to know what he thinks of the situation we’re in.”

Jaal’s courage and support inspired Ryder to be more confident and not to yield to Evfra’s provocations. No matter the obstacles he had to overcome, his purpose was true and he would stick to it till the end, even if everybody doubted him.

“I think that this newly established bond between our species is beneficial for everybody. It is not perfect, we still have lots of stuff to work on, sure. And this is why I will do my best. If we really are the ones to blame in this incident, I’ll pay the price and earn your forgiveness. That’s what I think,” he said, somehow making it sound as though he prepared this speech long ago.

“I can respect such an answer,” said Evfra approvingly.

Ryder’s omni-tool made a beeping sound letting him know that somebody was on the line.

“It’s Suvi,” stated James to inform everybody else in the room before turning on the public channel.

“Ryder, the supplies from Taerve Uni appear to have been stolen. The security footage shows a group of people entering the warehouse and taking some of the stuff. Presumably at that time one shuttle was stolen as well. Priya Blake says one of the colonists had to be helping the intruders since they weren’t able to find any other clues and all other footage appears to be corrupted.”

“Got it. What about the rifles?”

“They seem to implement some of non-Initiative technologies. Our best bet would be to say that they come from Kadara.”

“Exiles then,” said Jaal quietly to himself.

“Thanks for your help, Suvi,” said Ryder and turned off the communication device, not letting Suvi ask any questions about what was happening.

“I suggest we go to Kadara right away. We shouldn’t waste any time,” said Jaal.

“Yeah, I would also like to get things sorted out as soon as possible,” agreed James.

He tried to take this incident in all its seriousness. Even if it meant running from one planet to another in search of any bits of useful data. Besides, the possibility of exiles being responsible for the offense gave him courage. Believing that the colonists had barely anything to do with the incident was all that kept him going.

“There is no need to do that. I will reach out to my agents in the port immediately and let you know once they discover anything important,” suggested Evfra.

His proposal looked like a real gesture of goodwill. Even though it was a little suspicious of him to make the life of the Pathfinder easier instead of complicating it, Ryder didn’t feel like refusing.

“That would be really convenient. We will stay on the Voeld’s orbit for now then. Are you going to come back to Aya?”

“No, not now. I’ll stay here until we clarify everything. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else. Do you have a minute?” asked Evfra mysteriously. Ryder could not even imagine what else he would want to discuss after the matter with the colonists was settled for the time being.

“I’ll return to the Tempest, you can take your time. Goodbye, Evfra,” said Jaal, retreating before he was asked to. He felt that he shouldn’t stay. Since Evfra wasn’t really mad, his job there was done, so he decided to return to the ship and give them some privacy.

After Jaal disappeared out of their sight, Evfra offered Ryder a seat. The surface of a chair was quite cold to the touch.

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to talk about Jaal,” began Evfra. “I’m glad he left without me having to ask him to do so.”

“Is something bothering you?”

“Not bothering, no. I am wondering how he’s doing on the Tempest.”

Evfra was not the type that would talk much and especially not the type that would uncover that he worried about someone. Seeing him being open about what he cared about made Ryder feel more at ease in his presence.

“Jaal has become a valuable member of our team. He always provides us with helpful insights in situations otherwise obscure to us as newcomers. And he’s a skillful fighter, what more could I ask for,” he replied happily. There really couldn’t be too much praise for Jaal after what he did to help them.

“Good. I want to make sure he doesn’t feel left out. After our experience with kett, it was very risky to let him go with an outsider.”

The moment James met Jaal, he immediately understood that this angara is one of the most adventurous and decisive aliens he had ever seen. Nonetheless, only weeks after did he realize how big of a step had his new teammate made in terms of changing angaran foreign policy. The kett were the only aliens they had met before and that contact certainly didn’t have any positive outcome.

“You don’t have to worry,” said Ryder, waving his hand nonchalantly. “I mean, cultural clashes are unavoidable, but nothing we cannot handle so far. The Tempest crew is as diverse as it can be, so he fits like a puzzle piece.”

“Keep it that way. Or I will be forced to retrieve him. He is still an important agent of the Resistance,” said Evfra in a serious tone, although not threatening. He admired Jaal as one of the best assets in his movement and, understandably, didn’t want to lose him.

“I don’t think you will be able to do that. He seems to enjoy being on the Tempest. And, at this point, I won’t let him go,” said the Pathfinder laughingly.

“Do you like him that much?” asked Evfra. From the tone of his voice or the look on his face it was difficult to determine if it was a serious question or not.

“Well, he is a great interlocutor,” began Ryder, not really knowing what exactly Evfra expected to hear. “Considering the fact that he doesn’t know much about our customs and habits, he holds himself pretty well. Also, the female part of the crew seems to be fond of him. Especially the female part. And Liam. For some reason.”

The expression on Evfra’s face was one of confusion and incomprehension mixed together. Hearing this was definitely not something he anticipated.

“Are you saying that they are attracted to him?” he inquired in an attempt to define what Ryder meant.

“Kind of. Nothing serious, I’m sure, but he knows what to say and not say. Albeit I start doubting that when he opens a discussion about how asari reproduce. That is uncomfortable.”  Ryder bit his lip looking blankly at the snowy floor beneath him and thinking of how to continue the conversation. “Anywa-a-ay,” he began in a sing-song voice, seemingly having come up with something else worth noting, “coming back to his positive sides, he smells really nice. You also smell nice, by the way. I mean… not that I’m sniffing,”—he rubbed his neck like he usually did when he was nervous—“probably, it’s because of the lotion. Or something else. Jaal told that angara use lots of different self-care thingies, a-and I probably should stop talking about that already, shouldn’t I..?”

Evfra did his best not to bury his face in his palms because of how uncomfortable he was. There was always this moment during his conversations with Ryder when he just didn’t know how to react. He thought that if all humans were so perplexing and held so little control over their emotions, communicating with them on a daily basis must have been a real pain.

“You say your crewmates are discussing ways of reproduction,”—he tried to skip the embarrassing bits of the conversation and get to what really interested him—“I recon Milky Way settlers don’t know much about angara. We are not used to affairs with other species. Isn’t it too early to talk about such matters?”

“Humans discovered the intergalactic community less than 30 years ago and… well, plus 600 years we spent to get here, but let’s disregard that for now. All I’m saying is it didn’t take us long to fully adapt. Even though previously we too thought we were alone in the world. And, dare I add, our first contact with an alien race developed into a 3-month war. At least you’re not willing to fight us just ‘cause you don’t like us,” said Ryder without giving it much thought. Evfra was quite surprised at how confident the Pathfinder was in his words, almost as if he had previously considered this problem.

“Then that is your standpoint. I see,” replied Evfra and crossed his legs. For James it looked a bit weird considering angaran anatomy, but he tried not to stare. It was already awkward enough.

“Back at the Milky Way there were some species not compatible with human physiology at all,” began Ryder again. “Having all kinds of strange tentacles and rows of sharp teeth. And the batarians… Just imagine something staring at you with four eyes”—James twitched sharply—“I still have chills. So, yeah, angara don’t seem as such a bad option to me.”

“But isn’t survival of your race a priority now? There is no future for you if you don’t create great families and develop a new community,” objected Evfra. However persuasive the Pathfinder was, some of his opinions just did not sound practical to Evfra.

“I look at how angara cherish every member of their huge families and I aspire for us to live that way. But you just cannot force yourself if you strive for something else. Or somebody else,” said James without prevaricating.

Evfra narrowed his eyes and started drumming his fingers on the desk.

“That’s an interesting thought to hear from a person holding a position like yours. I don’t think your superiors would like it.”

“Well, I’m my own person.” Ryder leaned on the back of his chair. It didn’t seem so cold anymore. “And I still don’t get paid for the job so the least they could do is letting me date who I want to.”

“Be careful, Ryder. Now you make it sound as if it never was about the choice of others but rather about your own decision regarding this issue,” warned him Evfra. Despite his serious tone, he had no intention of revealing what Ryder told him to anybody else.

“Even if it is, what’s then?”—James tilted his head to the left a little—“unions between separate individuals of our species would have a great influence on our affiliation in general. If we can feel sympathy towards each other, then we are not so different after all. Sometimes you have to sacrifice something to have something else instead.” He sighed and slightly disappointedly added, “and my genes aren’t special or anything, so the humanity won’t lose much.”

Evfra checked the time on the terminal on his desk. He then stood up, implicating that it was probably time to wrap up the talks.

“It’s already quite late so I won’t hold you here any longer, Pathfinder. Your crew has waited more than enough.”

“Guess you’re right.”

Ryder stood up as well and quickly adjusted weapons hanging on his leg and back.

“I’ll accompany you to the Tempest if you don’t mind,” said Evfra.

“Not at all. Sometimes I get lost in your caves here so it’s always nice to have somebody show me the way around.”

They exited the room and set off into the network of icy caves, filled with equipment and appliances belonging to Resistance as well as a great number of soldiers and researchers occupied with their individual tasks.

“When we first came to Voeld,” said Evfra, observing his people at work, “we didn’t bring much resources. It was difficult to operate here, so we thought using these caverns would be a good start. Later we were able to equip everything with necessary facilities and make life here more comfortable. It indeed goes to show how far the ability to use surroundings to your own benefit can bring you.”

“I think you did a really good job surviving here. Can’t imagine how difficult it had been before we activated the vault,” commented Ryder, sincerely amazed by the job that the Resistance did on Voeld.

“It was extremely cold. We couldn’t make ten steps from the heaters unless we had special equipment. But, perhaps, even worse than that was what the planet looked like. Deserted and dead-white. The kett were there somewhere, we knew it, but through blizzards and snowstorms it was impossible to see anything. Lots of soldiers couldn’t handle such desolation for long.”

Evfra looked thoughtful for a few moments. The topic of colonization of Voeld brought back some memories about how it used to be. One look at his scarred face was enough to understand that it was anything but simple.

“The cold here is still unbearable, but… I don’t think it looks that bad. The beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,” mused Ryder.

“Is that another human saying?” asked Evfra curiously.

“Yes.” They’ve finally reached the exit from the cave. Ryder dreamily stared at the white sky almost melting together with white mountains and slopes. “It means that nothing is really objectively beautiful or hideous, it depends on your perspective. You just need to learn to see good in everything. Even if there isn’t much of it.”

“My dislike for Voeld mostly came from the fact that it was so different from my home. But now it is better. Now that you are here,” said Evfra casually.

Ryder abruptly turned his head, shifting his gaze from the sky to Evfra’s rigid face. He felt that he was blushing under his helmet because of how astonished he was. The words sounded dubious, not like something Evfra would say.

“I mean the human colony,” added Evfra calmly. “We are not alone on this planet anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” nodded Ryder and coughed awkwardly.

Barely noticeable notes of discontent in Ryder’s voice didn’t escape Evfra’s ears. It was strange to hear that, but he tried not to overthink. After all, it was impossible to know what humans had on their mind.

After a moment of puzzlement Ryder went on, “I’m also glad we’re not alone on Voeld. It would be a hell to maintain an outpost on such a secluded planet.”

“Yes, it would.”

They walked the trail to the landing area in silence. Frozen snow was creaking under their feet and dim lights that defined the way flickered through blizzard, hardly noticeable. Guards were on their duty, constantly checking the perimeter for potential intruders. Even though it wasn’t so cold anymore, they tried to keep close to the heaters and stayed mostly in pairs.

Approaching the Tempest, Ryder made the last attempt to heat up the conversation. He hated to leave things the way they were.

“So-o-o, do you want to know a strange fact about humans?” he asked, pretending like it was a perfectly normal thing to ask after not talking for five minutes.

“Why would I want to know that?” Evfra turned around and faced Ryder, baffled by the question.

“Jaal once asked Liam and I thought… It’s okay if you don’t, really.”

“Go ahead then,” said the angara. At the moment he did not really care much about knowing more about humans, but rather wished to hear what Ryder wanted to tell him so eagerly.

“When humans are on the last stages of freezing, they get naked.”

This time Evfra couldn’t keep himself from closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead for a few seconds, feeling weary and jaded. Communication with humans really did make him think harder than usually. His brain just couldn’t handle such pressure every time he tried to analyze what was really going on in their heads. Particularly it applied to Ryder.

“Well, anyway, I’m looking forward to hearing from you,” said the Pathfinder and got aboard the Tempest. Evfra stood outside for some time, thinking, before returning to the Base.

Surprisingly enough, nobody aboard the Tempest was mad at Ryder for not sharing the reason for their come. Kalo tried to complain about the Pathfinder not trusting his team, but it didn’t take long for him to accept the fact that Ryder just didn’t want them to worry about the whole case. They stayed on the orbit of Voeld in order to be able to get back to the planet as soon as possible in case the situation needed them to.

James talked to Vetra and Jaal, convincing them that Evfra really didn’t say anything offensive and really didn’t threaten him. Hardly did they believe him when Ryder said, that the leader of the Resistance just inquired about the whole air aboard his ship. Realizing he would probably not say much else, they left Ryder alone.

The day went on with nothing noteworthy. Drowning in different reports from colonies and the Nexus, Ryder didn’t pay attention to the passing of time and soon found himself the only one staying awake. He was exhausted because of all the anxiety and jitters he had to experience today, so calling it a day didn’t seem to be a bad option. Although it took him some time to fall asleep because of all his spinning and turning in bed, he slept quite calmly and didn’t see any dreams.

He was woken up by SAM early in the morning.

“Pathfinder, you have new emails at your terminal.”

“Are they from Evfra?” asked Ryder, yawning.

“One of them,” answered SAM without getting into details.

James used to the terminal in his quarters to check the emails.

 Some info for the captain

To: Ryder

From: Reyes Vidal

Yesterday I got a task from Evfra (don’t worry, it’s not classified, I wouldn’t write you otherwise). As soon as I heard the details, I immediately knew it had something to do with you, so now you’re reading this.

It happened so, that a friend of mine wanted to take part in a shady venture. I, being a kindly person I am, told him not to. Some of his other friends weren’t as smart as him and didn’t listen to my advice, so they ended up dead in a stolen shuttle near the Resistance Base on Voeld. Do you follow me? I hope so, because it seems like if it hadn’t been for me, more exiles would have attacked the angara pretending to be your people. And we all know where that could lead.

Now I hope you’ll acknowledge my assistance in this matter and pay me back for being this good of a friend and taking care of your image so professionally.

Let me know when you have a free minute to chat.

Reyes

 Ryder blinked a few times. His eyes hurt from starring at the terminal screen right after waking up.

“I think I’m now more confused than I was before if that makes sense,” he said rather to himself than to SAM. “Okay, let’s see what the second one has for us.”

 Update on Urgent Matter

To: Ryder

From: Evfra

I have some intel we were looking for. I recon Reyes is now writing an email to you as well. I couldn’t deny him the pleasure of doing that, but you can never be sure of what he is going to tell and what he isn’t, so I’m writing as promised.  

People who attacked our Base were indeed exiles from the Kadara port. They managed to get in contact with kett who saw a great opportunity to use them and had promised them power and resources in return for undertaking this offense. My assumption is that they wanted to disrupt the alliance between humans and angara by making it look like your people attacked mine. However, I think their commandos didn’t know about this plan. It looks too irresponsible and lacks elaboration.

Someone in Taerve Uni helped exiles get in and steal what they needed. Reyes mentioned one of them having a relative in the colony, so it’s best if you investigated this further.

Angara do not blame you for what happened. Some of them feel for you and send their support.

In case you need me, I’ll be on Aya. I am flying back today.

I am glad there is no reason for us to be at war.

 “Somehow, imagining his face while he writes it makes it sound even better,” mumbled Ryder to himself and closed the email. He was too sleepy to be able to answer it properly right now.

[flowerfan2]

Part of You Indefinitely - Ch. 7 of 9

David/Patrick, 22k so far, A03, M

Summary:  An accident sends Patrick to the hospital and terrifies David.  What follows changes their relationship in ways David and Patrick never imagined.  A story of love and its challenges.

***We’re nearing the end, folks - hope you enjoy!

Chapter 7

David is excited at their next session with Margo.  He tells her about how Patrick came to the store, and how good it felt to have him there, and how proud he is of Patrick for getting out of the house.  

But when he turns to Patrick, hoping to have him echo his hopeful thoughts, Patrick is anything but happy.

“Patrick?  What’s wrong?”

“David doesn’t understand,” Patrick grinds out, speaking to Margo.

“Okay, time out, this really isn’t fair – he can’t say that if he doesn’t explain, right?”  David is on board with this counseling thing, he truly is, but not if Patrick just uses it to make vague, unsubstantiated allegations.

“Patrick, can you explain why you think David doesn’t understand?”

David has the feeling that if it wasn’t such a pain for Patrick to get back into his chair, he’d be storming out of the room.  But Margo is good at letting Patrick take his time, and David pushes down his frustration and tries to follow suit.

“It shouldn’t be a big deal,” Patrick finally says, like he’s choking out each word.  “I should be able to go to the store – our store – without freaking out about it.  There’s no reason I can’t go back to work now, I know that’s what David’s thinking – we can both just go back to work now, and everything will be normal, except…”

“Except what?”  Margo prompts.

David waits, his hands gripping his knees.

“Except that’s just it.  Me.  I’m not back to normal.  Nobody knows if I ever will be again, and-” Patrick puts his hands up over his face and sucks in a sob, “and David is going to get tired of waiting for me.”

“Patrick,” David breathes out, his whole body shaking.  “Is that – is that what you have been worried about?  You think I’m going to leave you because you can’t walk?”

Patrick folds in on himself, and David nearly does the same.  The words are stark, but the unknowns of Patrick’s recovery are what’s been haunting him since Patrick woke up in the hospital, and it’s no surprise that it’s at the core of Patrick’s fears, too.

“I’m not going to leave you, Patrick,” David says, putting his hands on Patrick’s shoulders and leaning in close.  “It doesn’t matter if you never get out of that chair, I swear to you, it doesn’t.  You are the love of my life, and that’s not going to change.  I’d carry you around on my back for the rest of my life for the privilege of spending it with you, Patrick Brewer.”

Patrick grabs on to David and buries his face in his neck, sniffling and crying.  “I know it’s stupid, I know it, I just can’t stop thinking about it.”

“It’s not stupid.  I’m not going anywhere.  You’re stuck with me.”  Apparently, this is what Patrick needed to hear, and now that David knows, he can’t say it enough.  David rubs his back and kisses his head, repeating “it’s okay, baby, it’s okay.  It doesn’t matter.  I’m not going anywhere, no matter what happens or doesn’t happen.”

“I’m so scared,” Patrick says, face still pressed against David’s skin.  “I hate this.  I hate it so much.”

“Me too,” David says.  “Me too.”

******

They’re in the car again on the way back from a PT session and a check in with Patrick’s doctor – whoever said most serious conversations happen in the car was definitely on to something – when Patrick asks whether David has ever been sick.

“Sick?”

The car is making a funny noise when David brakes, and he’s trying to figure out if it’s the kind of normal noise you only think is unusual because most of the time it’s drowned out by the radio, or the kind of noise that means “stop the car immediately.”

“Yeah, or, like, were you ever in the hospital.”

David’s about to pull over, weird noise or not, because this is kind of an odd question and he really doesn’t know where it’s coming from.  

“Why do you ask?”

“Just curious.”

David glances at Patrick, and he seems perfectly fine.  He even gives David a “what?” kind of look, so David shrugs and goes with it.

“I was dehydrated from a fever when I was a baby and had to be in the hospital overnight, I sprained my ankle when I was on a fifth grade trip to Montreal and they made me go to the doctor, I had chicken pox… and, um…” David pauses, wondering whether Patrick expects him to list every single time.  “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Sure,” Patrick says, noncommittally.  “Nothing when you were older?”

David really doesn’t want to talk about when he got his stomach pumped in L.A., eighteen years old and stupidly partying with people twice his age, or when Alexis rushed him to the emergency room in Barcelona, convinced he was dying after someone slipped something into his drink.

“What’s this really about?”

“You just seem, um, really nervous in the hospital.”  When David glances over, Patrick is looking at him intently, his brown eyes full of concern.

“I think I’m a perfectly reasonable amount of nervous in the hospital,” David says, ignoring the flutter in his stomach.

“But you’re not even the one who’s hurt.”

David does pull over then, because his chest clenches and while he’s very sure it isn’t a heart attack, they’ve had enough excitement in their lives lately.  “Patrick,” he says, tugging on his sleeve until Patrick turns to face him, “it doesn’t matter how many times I’ve been hurt.  This is the first time, for me, that  <i>you’ve</i> been hurt.  I don’t think a million emergency room visits to pump out my stomach could have prepared me for how it felt to see you unconscious in that bed.”

Patrick’s eyes go wide.  “Okay, we’ll get to that very sweet sentiment in a minute, but – how many times did you have your stomach pumped?”

Fuck, he really didn’t mean to let that slip.  “Just twice, unless you count – but that’s not the point.”

Patrick’s looking at him intently, and David ducks his head, feeling exposed.  

“I’m sorry,” Patrick says.  “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.”

“What did you mean, exactly?”  David asks.

“I figured if maybe I knew what was making you so nervous, I could do something to help.”  

Patrick’s voice is soft and gentle, and David realizes how long it’s been since Patrick has been the one trying to console him – not that David was even upset for the reason Patrick suspected, but… it feels nice.  He thinks for a moment about how to respond.  He doesn’t want to just brush this off.

“There is something,” David says.  

“What?”

“I’d like to come into your doctor’s appointments with you,” David says, and goes on quickly, trying to explain.  “So I know what’s happening.  And that way you wouldn’t have to repeat everything to me, which I know is awkward, and if they give you any instructions, I could help you keep track of what you need to do.”  <i>And I wouldn’t have to worry that whatever is going on is actually worse than you’re willing to admit,</i> David thinks.

Patrick smiles wryly and tilts his head back in the seat.  “I thought I was doing you a favor by telling you to wait in the hall, but you were anxious because you wanted to be in the room.”

“Pretty much.  I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want that, I know it’s private and you don’t have much that’s private these days.  But you asked, so.”

Patrick bites his lip, then leans over and kisses David quickly.  “Let me think about it, okay?  But I’ll tell you what Dr. Lee said today, if you want to know.”

“Okay, yeah, that’d be good,” David says.  Then he sighs dramatically and puts the car in gear, looking back and forth at the deserted road before he pulls back on.  “But leave out anything about his infatuation with Alexis.  Some things should truly remain private.”

Patrick laughs softly, and they drive on in relative silence for a few minutes.  Then Patrick starts fidgeting, and David braces himself for whatever’s coming next.

“It’s not that I think you’re shallow or anything,” Patrick starts.

“Okay, that’s not a weird way to start a conversation,” David replies, wondering if he needs to pull over again.  At this rate they’ll never get home.

“No, I’m sorry, I just mean…” Patrick rubs his hands on his thighs.  “What I said the other day… part of me knows you wouldn’t leave me if I don’t get better, that would be a horrible thing to think of you.  I don’t really think that, most of the time.  But it’s not really about you.”

David glances over to Patrick, who is worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.  “Okay.”  

“The thought that I might never get out of this chair, that I wouldn’t be able to do so many things – mow the lawn, hike a trail, pull something down off of a high shelf… go for a run when I’m stressed.  My brain gets stuck on that.  I’m so dependent.  And I can’t walk next to you, can’t reach out and pull you up against me, it’s all so much harder with the chair in the way.  It makes me feel less-”

“You’re not-” David interrupts, and Patrick glares at him.  “Sorry, sorry.  I’m listening.  Go on.”

“Whether or not I am less, I feel that way.  Less capable.  Less useful.  Less confident.  And so I really am different.  And when you figure that out, I don’t know if you’ll like me as much.  And you can tell me over and over that it won’t happen, but it’s still… it’s still in my head.”

David reaches over and takes Patrick’s hand.  He wants to say something to fix this, but Patrick just told him that words don’t help.  He gives Patrick’s hand a squeeze and looks over at him, wondering if Patrick can read in his eyes all the love that he’s feeling.  Patrick holds his glance for a moment, and squeezes back.

*****

It takes a little bit longer for David to put his plan for the store into action than he had hoped, but after way too many emails with Jake, and a lucky find at an estate sale, he’s ready to talk to Patrick about it.

Patrick is laying on the couch against David, playing with the gold rings on his fingers.  They’ve been light-heartedly debating what to do with their Saturday afternoon, David having firmly rejected all sports-watching activities, and Patrick declaring that he’s all rom-com’d out for the time being.  Patrick is relaxed, and cuddly, and David is a little afraid to ruin it all by raising what he knows is a sore subject, but he’s not likely to get a better opportunity.

“Patrick?”

“Yeah?”

“Any chance I could convince you to come into the store with me tomorrow morning?”

David can feel Patrick tense against him.  

“Why?  Did Stevie mix up the lip balms again?”

“No.  I, um, made some provisional adjustments to the layout, to make our space more accessible.”

Patrick has let go of David’s hands.  “Provisional upon what?”

“Upon your approval.”

“David.”  There’s a note of warning in Patrick’s voice, and David can tell he’s about to get yelled at.

“Give me a minute to explain before you get angry, okay?  You’re going to be using the chair for a while more, even best-case scenario.  And my dad and Stevie can’t run the store much longer.  You’re bored out of your mind being home all day, and - I really think this could work.”

Patrick shoves himself up and off of David, awkwardly propelling himself to the other end of the couch.  “I am pretty bored,” he says, a little bitterly.  “But it’s a waste of money to make changes to the store for me.”

“It’s absolutely not.  And anyway, the store is doing very well this month, as you know.  I think people are coming in to gossip with my dad and then they get guilted into buying things?”  Actually David thinks they’re coming in out of morbid curiosity, to see if Johnny has screwed around with David’s vision, but that’s almost what he said.  “We’ve got the cash.  And I found a nice piece to use as the counter-top.  It’ll be a two-level table which can work for either sitting or standing.  Jake put together a mock-up, he won’t charge us until we give him the go-ahead.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Patrick,” David scoots closer to him, nudging at his leg with one hand.  “Is it really the cost that’s bothering you?”

The tips of Patrick’s ears color with embarrassment.  “You know it isn’t just that.”

Patrick doesn’t like people seeing him in the wheelchair.  They both know it, and David isn’t going to force him to say it.

“You could just come help after hours,” David says calmly.

“But that’s pretty stupid, isn’t it?”  Patrick says, looking down at his legs.  “I shouldn’t be embarrassed.  I need to get over it.”

David leans closer, wrapping his arms around Patrick’s shoulders and tucking his head in next to his.  “You don’t <i>need</i> to get over it.  But if you started going out more, it might get less awful.  And then you might feel less trapped.”

Patrick turns towards him.  “Trapped?”

“If I suddenly had to rely on someone else anytime I wanted to leave the house, even if it was you, I’d feel trapped.”

“I still can’t drive.”

“There are adjustments we could make to the car, we talked about-”

“Absolutely not,” Patrick says, his voice rising.  He takes a deep breath and when he speaks again, he’s working on staying calm.  “We talked about that, it’s expensive and drastic and – and I really don’t mind you driving me around.  I don’t feel trapped, exactly.  But I guess I am a little… lonely.”  Patrick’s gaze flits to David’s and then away.

“You don’t have to look so guilty when you say that,” David says, pushing down the twinge he feels at Patrick’s words.  “When you decided to spend the rest of your life with me, you didn’t mean <i>only</i> with me.”  David takes Patrick’s hand and squeezes it.

“Still feels kind of mean to say it.”

“Look, I get out of the house all the time – I visit vendors, I stop by the store and critique my dad and Stevie, I chat with Twyla and half the town while I’m waiting for our take-out at the café.  If I was stuck in here all day long with you every day for weeks on end I’d be going a little stir-crazy too.”

There’s a beat, and then Patrick says, “Nice thing to say to your injured husband.”  David welcomes his teasing tone with an internal cheer.

“You can be kind of a lot,” David says, straight faced.

Patrick barks out a laugh, and David swoops in and smacks kisses against Patrick’s smile.  

*****

They’re in bed one night, watching some random Marvel movie on Patrick’s laptop, when David feels the mood change.

Patrick is lying with his head on David’s chest, one arm draped over his waist.  And he’s moving closer, shifting against him, so tentatively David almost doesn’t notice.

David glances down at him, and Patrick looks up, his eyes flitting to David’s mouth.  

“Getting tired of the movie?”  David asks.

Patrick feigns nonchalance, and David feels a thrill of excitement shoot through him.  They’ve played this game before.

“If you are,” Patrick says.  “I mean, I’ve seen it before.”

“Mmm, and I never need to see it.”  David closes the laptop and puts it on the bedside table.  When he looks back at Patrick, his big brown eyes are wide.  “Patrick?”

“Yeah?”  Patrick says.

“You wanna fool around?”

Patrick’s face goes on a journey that David wishes he could preserve forever, from nerves to determination to aroused excitement.  “Oh god, I really do.”  He surges forward and kisses David, one hand cupping his cheek, his whole body pressing close.

David lets out a moan that would be embarrassing if he so very much <i>did not care</i> right now, reveling in the feel of his husband’s body warm and longing against his own.  They kiss with abandon for a few minutes, all tongue and no finesse, Patrick’s hand in David’s hair and David holding on to Patrick’s shoulder.

“Can I take this off?”  Patrick breathes out, tugging at David’s t-shirt, and soon both their shirts are off.  They move back together, skin touching and sending sparks though David’s body.  David is sensitized all over, shivering as Patrick scratches at the hair on his chest and thumbs at his nipples.  David skims his teeth along Patrick’s jaw and sucks at a spot behind his ear, making Patrick whine and thrust his pajama-clad hips against David’s.

It’s so good, David can hardly breathe.  He runs his hand down Patrick’s back to his ass, giving it a squeeze and encouraging Patrick to continue his thrusts.

Patrick’s panting into his ear, his hand clutching at David’s side, but then his breath catches and he stops.  Just stops.

David freezes, breathing hard, and rests his forehead against Patrick’s while he wills himself to remember how to think.  He knew this could happen, he’s played this scenario over in his head a dozen times.  David even thinks he knows what to do.  He just needs to listen to Patrick and make sure he knows he’s safe.

“Hey,” David says softly, sliding his wayward hands back up above Patrick’s waist.  “It’s okay.”  He shifts, easing their hips just the tiniest bit apart, and rubs Patrick’s back.  “Whatever it is, you can tell me.  It’s okay.”  

For a long moment the only noise in the room is their labored breathing.  Then Patrick presses his face into the space between David’s neck and shoulder.  “I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s okay.  Don’t apologize.  We can pause for a while, or we can stop-”

“No, I – I really don’t want to stop.”

David pulls back so he can see Patrick’s face.  “Okay.  We’ll just pause, then, for a bit.”

Patrick stares at David, and then flops over onto his back, his hand over his face.  “I haven’t been this nervous about sex since our first time.”

David hums, raising up on an elbow.  “I couldn’t tell you were nervous then.”

Patrick moves his hand and looks at David.  “You’re kidding, right?”

David laughs.  “Maybe a little. ��But you were so sexy…” He bites his lip and shimmies closer to Patrick, drawing circles on his shoulder with a fingertip.  “You took my breath away.”

“I was petrified.  I had literally never touched another guy’s dick before.”

“I know.  But believe me, that is not what I was thinking about at the time.”

“Oh?  What were you thinking about?”  Patrick asks.

David pauses long enough that Patrick has to prompt him.

“I didn’t mean for that to be a hard question.”

David snorts.  “No, sorry, it isn’t, it shouldn’t be.  I was just remembering…  I mean on one hand, I spent a lot of time before that night thinking about what I needed to do to not fuck things up with you, to try to tone it down, not make you change your mind about me.  But in the moment…” David forces himself to look at Patrick, who is gazing back with earnest concern, “in the moment, all I could think of was how beautiful you are.”

Patrick blushes, and then he leans in and kisses David, warm and perfect.  “I love you, David Rose.”

“I love you too.”

Patrick kisses him again, and again, and David leans over him, one hand holding himself up and the other holding Patrick’s face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone.  He keeps his hips angled away, aware in the back of his mind that Patrick still really hasn’t given them the green light to continue.

Patrick takes the initiative after a few minutes, however, sliding a hand down to David’s hip, and giving it a squeeze.  “I, um, I want to keep going,” he says, but he doesn’t move any further.

“Is there something in particular you’re nervous about?”  David asks.  “Maybe I can help.”

Patrick gives a jittery laugh.  “I want to touch you, I want to touch you so bad, but I’m afraid my grip’s gonna be too loose, or I could have a muscle spasm and it’ll be too tight.”

“Honestly, my dick is pretty excited about either of those options right now.”

Patrick snorts against David’s shoulder, and David leans down to whisper in his ear.  “I want your hands on me, Patrick, any way you want.  I want you to touch me.  Whatever feels good to you, I promise it’s going to feel good to me.  You’re not going to do anything wrong.  And if you change your mind, we’ll stop.  Anytime.  Okay?”

“Yeah,” Patrick says, “okay, yeah.”  Patrick pulls David’s head down with a hand to the back of his head, and they kiss, this time letting it heat up fast with all the intensity of their pent-up arousal.  Patrick tugs at David’s sleep pants and David hurries out of them, still kissing Patrick.

“Want yours off too?”  David asks, and when Patrick nods, he carefully eases Patrick’s pants off and tosses them on the floor.  David can’t help admiring Patrick, naked and flushed, his cock hard and leaking.  He’s seen Patrick naked plenty of times, but he still takes his breath away.

“Look at you,” David says, catching Patrick’s gaze.  “You’re gorgeous.”

“Come here.”  Patrick reels David in, and David goes easily, until their bodies are pressed together from chest to groin, feet moving restlessly as they kiss.

This time Patrick lets himself go, gripping David’s ass and pressing a thigh between his legs, humming his appreciation when David’s hands weave between them and find his cock.  

“What do you want, baby?”  David asks, kissing along Patrick’s jaw and down his chest.  “What do you want?”

Patrick captures his mouth with his own, pressing his chest to David’s and shifting his hips until their bare cocks are pressed together.  “Like this?”  His voice is tight and David can tell that he’s already getting close, wound up from so many weeks without.

“Good, yeah, okay,” David scrabbles with one hand in the bedside table drawer, miraculously finding the lube without having to untangle himself from Patrick, who is thrusting against him deliciously.  “Here, let me-” He squirts lube in the general direction of their cocks, messy and wet, and feels Patrick’s hand wrapping around them both.  

David works with him, his hand over Patrick’s, both of them urgently twisting and stroking.  They’re panting into each other’s mouths, and it isn’t long before David is losing control completely.  “Oh god, Patrick, oh, please, yeah, oh, oh-”

Suddenly Patrick jerks and shudders, and he comes with a low moan.  David follows him over the edge, his body exploding in a burst of light.

“Love you so much, David,” Patrick breathes out, stroking David’s flank as he comes down.  “Thank you, fuck, god, thank you.”

“I’d say no thanks are necessary, but I was pretty amazing,” David says lightly, pulling Patrick against him and kissing his cheek.  They can pretend it’s normal, that it’s just another night of mutually satisfying sex in a long wonderful string of nights together, but they know it’s more than that.  It’s Patrick learning to trust himself again, and it makes David’s heart soar.