#my mom is a microbiologist. anyway

[helltiervriska]

seeing people make pesterchum usernames with any word under the sun while knowing the miniscule plot detail of every username's letter sequence (GC, GA, AG, CG, CA, AC, TC, TA, TG, CT, AT, GT, etc) being based on polynucleotides (cytosine, guanine, adenine, thymine) forming DNA strands for their session. with john's username originally being ghostyTrickster, changed to ectoBiologist (EB, like Epstein-Barr virus, representing the cancer in their session) . and not knowing how to tell them without completing my full complete total nerd transformation. like sailor moon

[seeingteacupsindragons]

At my dad's birthday dinner the other week, I brought up that one post about "You have to actually ethically think about why cannibalism is wrong," and how the first thing I thought of was kuru.

And my younger brother (microbiologist) was like, "Well, we don't eat sick or old animals. Why would we eat sick or dying humans? That's how you get diseases."

Me: Exactly, you'd have to like, slaughter healthy humans for meat that's actually good to eat. Which is murder. But I guess like if they died in an accident, it could be like roadkill? You could ethically eat that

Little Brother: No, because you could transplant those organs and save another human life

Me: But Americans rarely eat most organ meat anyway. Oh, but we do use cadaver muscle grafts, too

Mom: What the FUCK is wrong with this family.

[lilnasxvevo]

Watched a documentary on mushrooms (my fucking beloved) with my parents and my mom sent me an article on how to become a mycologist afterward and I was like hell yeah but then I read it and it said I had to become a microbiologist first

Now

Science has always been my worst subject

And microscopes don’t like to behave for me

But

I have been thinking as of late anyway about why I was always so bad at science and I did some reading and I read a few things that were like. Yeah! Science is hard! It’s supposed to be hard!

So maybe the issue is just that I was putting the same amount of effort into my science classes as I was in all my other classes (almost none—I’m *hair toss* naturally good at the humanities and math isn’t that hard if you have a good teacher) and like. I just need to try.

I already have a bachelor’s so I’m thinking if I was able to transfer my credits to a local college and just take whatever classes I still need to take to get a microbiology degree then that wouldn’t be that expensive? Is that how that works?

I’ve wished for years that I could become a mycologist but I’ve always gone “Aww but I’m so bad at science tho, I’d be terrible at it.” And like I’m a fairly bright young person and I don’t know why I’ve been letting “I’m not good at it (yet)” stand in my way.

[the-blue-phantom]

Was about to have a full blown meltdown and/or hissy fit over my capstone proposal bc stress but I'm fine now

[thosequeenboys]

Love is Love is Love Is – Chap. 3 (Ben Hardy and Joe Mazzello)

Summary, Chapter 3: Surprised: Details about Joe’s mysterious phone call are revealed, leading Ben to recall a special memory. Some new cliffhangers emerge!

A/N & Warnings:  This is Chapter 3 of my Hardzzello story. Links to Chapters 1 and 2 are below.  There are minor, non-explicit sex references (dirty talk!) Also, cursing.

tagging (thanks, everyone, for supporting this work!):  @warriorteam1924 @im-an-adult-ish @cardyandy @heybuddy-drabbles @watercolouredreams @igotsuckedintothevoid @mazzelo @oniriquex @roger-taylors-car @discodeakyhasmyheart @peter-sue-the-management @honeymazzello @anotherhystericalqueen @marianaletosnape

Chapter 1:  Missed

Chapter 2:  Puzzled

Joe grabbed a frozen pizza and pulled salad ingredients and a beer from the refrigerator.  It was all he could muster, the phone conversation still swirling in his head.  He pre-heated the oven while he sipped a beer. He needed to speak with Ben, but before that, he had to go through the evening routine, which usually provided a fun, calming wrap-up to the day.  Tonight, he just wanted to tuck Alex in so he could be alone with Ben.

Joe met Ben and Alex at the door and took the groceries as they took off their shoes, placing them next to Joe’s in entry foyer.  

“Time for a bath,” Joe blurted out, his desire to move the evening quickly was abruptly unmasked.

Ben looked confused.  “Uh, aren’t we having dinner?”

“Yes. After bath.  I’m heating the oven for pizza.”  

“YAY, PIZZA!!” Alex cheered.

“Do you want to take him or should I?”  Joe pushed curtly.  He felt particularly controlling, as inside he felt out of control.  

“Uh, I can take him,” Ben looked at Joe quizzically.  “Alex, why don’t you head upstairs. I’ll be up to run your bath.”  As Alex climbed the steps languidly, Ben turned to Joe, “Are you ok?”

“It’s been an intense day. Let’s get him down early. And, we’ll talk.”  Joe said.

“Yeah, it has been intense. We’ll make it quick.”  Ben was slightly concerned by Joe’s remarks, but he figured he wanted to debrief from Alex’s earlier check-up with Dr. M.  

Joe was quiet during the meal, occasionally forcing a smile at Ben and Alex, but he was clearly distracted. He couldn’t help but wonder what dinnertime would be like a year from now.  Varied images flashed before his eyes.

Alex’s banter and laughs with Ben brought Joe back to the present, and he occasionally chimed in rotely, exuding a detached demeanor.  

As the meal finished, Joe jumped up to clean; fortunately, there wasn’t much to do.  “Ok-you guys go get ready for bed-teeth, book.”  There he was pushing and controlling again.

Alex started up the steps again.  Ben hung back as Joe put the dishes in the dishwasher.  Joe’s intensity and distraction were unnerving.  “You’re concerning me,” Ben said. “This isn’t just about the doctor’s visit.  Something happened after the doctor?  Just tell me. Please!!” Ben pleaded through dark, worried eyes.

Looking up at Ben, Joe suddenly got out of himself and realized that his mood and behavior were causing Ben stress. He moved toward Ben and wrapped his arms around his hips. “Hey, I’m sorry. Yeah, I got some news. It’s good. Just surprising. The timing. But, really good.  Let’s get him to bed…and we’ll talk.”  He looked into his husband’s eyes and brought him into his chest and whispered into his ear, “Ben...”

“Daddy,” Alex called from the top of the stairs. “Help.”

Ben released Joe with a lingering gaze before he bounded up the steps feeling both relieved and curious. Ben changed Alex’s diaper and helped him into the pajamas that were folded neatly on his pillow, as Alex pointed out the different whales in the pattern. Ben marveled at his precious son.

Joe finished in the kitchen and turned out the lights.  The sound of maniacal laughter guided him up the steps.  Entering Alex’s room, he saw Ben laying perpendicular on the toddler bed that was nestled perfectly into a corner of the room.  Ben’s legs were akimbo, his feet splayed out on the floor.  His head leaned against the wall. Alex’s relaxed his head on Ben’s stomach.  He faced out into the room, eyes focused on the book in Ben’s hand.  

“NOOOO!!!!  The octopus goes ‘whomp, whomp whomp,” Alex said, as he pressed his tented fingers into Ben’s stomach.  

“I think the octopus does this,” Ben said, as he released the book on the bed, and leaned toward Alex, tickling him.  Alex rolled around giggling, as Ben angled himself so he wouldn’t roll off the bed.

“You two are INCORRRRRIGIBLE” Joe said, smiling at his two loves.

“InCORR-IJ” Alex mimicked, as he and Ben continued to roll, tickle and laugh.

“Ok, ok Guys,” Joe said softly, trying to infuse some calm.  “Time for bed.”

“Daddy lie down with me.” Alex declared, knowing that usually, Ben would gladly assume the role of Big Spoon until he was close to sleep.  

“No, not tonight.” Joe responded softly but firmly.

Ben gathered himself off the bed and put the book on the side table.  “C’mon, buddy,” he turned down the sheet and comforter and helped Alex scoot in.  He planted a kiss on his cheek as Alex’s arms wrapped around his warm neck.  Joe came over and rubbed Ben’s back, signaling it was time to go.   As Ben pulled away from Alex’s small arms, Joe planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek.  Joe grasped Ben’s hand as they left the room, calling good-night.  

They came into their bedroom and Joe closed the door and locked it.  Ben stood in front of him.

Joe looked at Ben and looked down, thinking of how to start the conversation though he had run through a number of scenarios since the call.  Joe threw his phone on the bed.

“On the way home, I got a call.  It was Mike Ranstad.”

Ben’s mouth formed an O, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. That Fucking Lawyer.  It was a voice that warned of ‘what if’s’ about this, and ‘just have to mentions’ about that.  It was a name that was a constant through the pre-procedure paperwork and the initial benchmarks for viability.  After that, their lawyer affirmed that all terms were set, and the contact with Mike thankfully faded, with a promise of his monthly updates.  

Hearing Mike’s name led Ben to revisit the day they got the call-the call that brought their desired new phase of life to reality and put all that legalese behind them.  They were lounging on the couch, scrolling through their phones in between reading the Sunday Times when Joe’s phone rang.  The number was unfamiliar but the area code vaguely was.   Normally Joe wouldn’t pick up an unidentified number, but something made him curious.

He answered lightly, “Hello.”

There was silence on the line, but some muffling in the background.

“I’m not able to do a survey now,” Joe said, anticipating a political survey.  He was about to hang up when a voice spoke up. A woman’s voice.

“This, this isn’t a survey…. I … I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Joe was perplexed.  “Who…is this?” He put the phone on speaker, and Ben moved closer to the phone and to Joe.

“Are you S-D 78Ol9P? The dad…?”  the voice said uncertainly.

“Is this some sort of joke? I swear I’ll get my fucking lawyer….” Joe’s heartbeat quickened.  Jesus, how did their situation leak out?  Wasn’t this information protected? WHAT THE FUCK?

“It FUCKING better NOT be a joke,” came the voice, hardening now, a southern accent evident. “I’m four months pregnant with a child I have NO intention of raising.  I have $30,000 in college debt to pay off and a graduate school bill pending later this year.”  Her voice then took a softer tone, “I’m Donor/Surrogate E-D/SU 67Y20V.  I’m Lena.”

“Holy shit.” Ben mouthed to Joe. “It’s HER!”

“It’s me,” Ben voiced quickly.  “I’m the dad. I’m Ben.”

Joe flashed him an angry look, uncomfortable with the conversation, trying to remember what was written in all those fucking documents. He couldn’t recall a single thing in the moment, but he was sure they were violating every stipulation they agreed to with their signatures.  

“Hi,” Lena said.

“Is, is everything ok? Are you ok?” Ben tried to sound supportive.  Lena’s comments gave him peace of mind.  Since the beginning, he harbored a concern that she would change her mind and want to keep the baby.  He had read horror stories. There would be a protracted legal battle, and she would win his progeny.   He woke up with nightmares sometimes close to tears.  Joe soothed him, reminding him that their lawyer had carved out their legal rights, and it wasn’t possible.  But the fear remained as an undercurrent during this supposedly happy, anticipatory time.  Finally, Ben breathed in relief.

“Yeesssss,” Lena responded, in her melodic way, “Now that the nausea is over. I’m fine.  Though now I have a diet of mustard greens and chia seeds to look forward to in my foreseeable future.” She gave a little laugh.

“Wow, gosh, is that what you eat when you’re pregnant? Sounds awful.”  Ben said, sympathetically.

She laughed.  “Actually, I thought that’s what you New York City guys would expect.”

“Well, I’m British,” Ben said. “I’m good with fish and chips and bangers and mash. Pretty sure what’s what my mom had when she was pregnant with me.”

Lena laughed, sounding relieved.

“You know,” she said, “I signed all those non-disclosure forms and confidentiality agreements and even something about safeguarding confidential information.  Well, apparently my lawyer Mike didn’t sign one ‘cause your phone number was written plain as day right on the clearly-marked file sitting on his desk.  Anyway, I just started wondering about you, is all.  And I can’t non-disclose unless you disclose.”

She had a point.  Joe and Ben exchanged glances.

“Why don’t you tell us about you first. Make that sheet of paper we got come alive! You show us yours, we’ll show you ours,” Joe said.  “I’m Ben’s husband, by the way. Joe.”

“AKA, the snarky husband,” Lena concluded.

“Uh-huh,”  Joe said trying to hide a smile. He was beginning to cotton to Lena, and he relaxed a little. It was harmless for them to speak at this point, right?

“I’m a future microbiologist, a triathlon athlete and a lesbian.  My wife Kasey is a chemist.  I’m from Tennessee; she’s from Michigan.  We met at the University of North Carolina as undergraduates, and we worked a bit after graduating.  But now we’re back; I’m completing my Ph.D.  Our daughter Lila is three.  This pregnancy isn’t my first rodeo.”  

Joe and Ben burst out laughing.

Lena continued, “Being a parent is awesome! You’ll see!  Anyway, we love to travel and are planning a trip to The Galapagos so I can do some research after this is done -- I mean, after I give birth to your healthy baby. Sorry, didn’t mean to sound crass. So, now….show me yours! Your application said you’re both in media/entertainment.  Big executives, I presume from your income range. Hopefully not the sleazy variety?!” She smirked.

Ben started.  “I’m an actor, actually.  Moved to the States after Joe and I got engaged in Montreal.  We married a year ago and wanted to start a family right away. His mom and siblings are here – in New York.”  

“An actor, huh? Like famous?” Lena asked in her slow drawl.

Ben and Joe laughed. “Depends how you define famous…” Ben said. “Hardy.  Ben Hardy is my professional name.”  They heard her typing into her phone after placing it on speaker.  Joe looked at Ben, concerned once again.  Should he have divulged his name?  It was too late. His emotions were now a mix of excitement and concern.

“Holy Craaappp.  Are those abs real or are they Photoshopped?” Lena queried in a high voice.

“Oh, they’re real, “ Joe responded, not missing a beat.  “VERY. Real.”

“Wow, Kacey works out, and she doesn’t have abs like that.  Maybe you can give her some workout tips.”  They all laughed. “Though, my sexuality is in question right now.” She laughed heartily.

“Well, you’ll have to figure that out with someone else.” Joe said. “He’s very much taken.”

“And what about you, snarky husband?” Lena inquired.

“An actor also, and a writer and director.  I’m his cougar.  Well almost.” They laughed at that too.

“How did you two meet?” Lena wanted to know.

“We were in a movie together-Bohemian Rhapsody.” Ben said, and they smiled at each other.

“Ah, the movie about Queen. Never saw it, but I do like their music.” Lena responded.

Joe felt an urge to wrap up the call.  “Lena, it’s been so nice meeting you, and I guess we’ll see you in a few months.  Thanks so much for the call.  And, we really, really appreciate all you’re doing to help us. Can’t thank you enough.  Really. We’re so excited to be dads.  Thanks….”Joe said.

“It’s a business arrangement, but it’s swell to know that the baby will have dads who love each other -- and who will love him.”

“HIM??????” Ben gasped.

“Oh, um, yeah.  The baby is male.  Guess Mike didn’t tell you. Surprise.” Lena said drolly.

“Wow. That’s amazing.” Ben said, his voice trailing off as he pictured holding his son, and he intertwined his fingers into Joe’s.  

“Can, uh, we stay in touch, um, text?” Ben asked hopefully.

“We can stay in touch, but I don’t text,” Lena said.

“Is that an ethical position?” Joe pried.

“No, just not my thing.   Guess I’m old-fashioned that way. You miss so much wrapped up in the phone.  You have my number now.  You can call. I’ll keep you posted after my doctor visits.”

They ended the call with Lena warmly and fell into each other on the couch, a tumble of passionate kisses and caresses.  “So,” Joe said, rubbing Ben’s thigh, “We have the name, then?”

“Alexander Francis Jones-Mazzello,” Ben responded delightedly.  Other than their marriage ceremony, Joe thought there wasn’t a time when he had seen Ben happier.

***

Back to the present, Joe could tell that Ben was going to a bad place by his facial expression and wide eyes.  He should have remembered that their interactions with Mike Ranstad didn’t conjure positive associations.  

“Hey, Hey, it’s ok,” Joe reached forward and held Ben’s hands. “God, I…just can’t believe it.   Mike had good news. It’s Lena.  She’s pregnant!!” he burst into a wide grin.

“ARE YOU JOKING?” Ben asked, dropping Joe’s hands from the shock.  “What, how??” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought she wasn’t even going to try until her classes ended in the spring. And, that’s SO quick; with me it took 3 tries.  Almost a year.”

“Guess my boys are fast swimmers,” Joe winked.  

“OH.MY.GOD.”  Ben said, trying to process the news.  “When is she due?”

“End of August/Early September?  Mike wasn’t sure exactly.” Joe said.

“FUCK.  I’ll be away. I’ll be filming. Till fucking October, they said.”  He took his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling in his text list. I need to let Dan know.  I gotta get out of this contract.  He has to…”

“No, no.  We’ll figure it out…My mom can help.  You worked hard for this dramatic role.  You really want it.” Joe responded calmly.

“No, Joe, this is too important.  I want to be there.” In that moment, Ben didn’t care if he ever worked again.  

“You’ll talk to Dan. He’s an experienced agent and he’ll have ideas,” Joe said in his reassuring way.

“Well, they have to give me a leave or something, right?” Ben considered.

“I’m sure you’re not the only actor who’s had to deal with something unexpected like this.” Joe affirmed. “Guess it’s a relief Netflix hasn’t offered me a full-time gig for this show in LA. That would totally send us off the rails.” Joe mused.

Ben sighed. “I’m happy, but wow, it’s a lot. I mean. I thought we’d have a little more time alone with Alex.  Let him get a little older.  And now, with the Dr. M. visit-we need to figure out what to do for him, with pre-school and…..”

“Yeah, two curve balls in one day. “Well, good curve balls, but still….We’ll figure it all out.  But not tonight.”  Joe moved toward Ben, embracing him and letting his hands sink deeply into Ben’s back pockets as he kissed his lips tenderly.  Ben leaned into Joe, grasping Joe’s lips with his own, as his hands snaked into Joe’s back pockets.  They kissed passionately and then Joe pulled away.  “I didn’t think I could love you more than I do,” Joe said, his hand kneading Ben’s firm ass, “But picturing you with another child….my child.  You’re such a great dad. God, I love you so much….”

Ben swallowed.  “I love you.  And, you’re a great dad too.”  But right now,” Ben bit his lower lip.  “This dad…”  

Joe ate his lover’s words with a hard, open-mouthed kissed, diving his tongue into Ben’s mouth.  He walked Ben toward the bed, pushing him gently onto it. Once Ben reclined, Joe settled his knee on the bed moving it side to side to coax Ben’s legs apart. He took Ben’s hands in his own and eased them above the blonde’s head, pressing them into the mattress as he leaned over him and planted firm kiss after kiss on his swollen lips, their tongues entwined in a pas de deux.  

“Oh, God, Joe….” Ben moaned in between kisses.  

“Want to know what I want to do to you?” Joe asked softly, as he slid his mouth and tongue slowly across Ben’s strong jawline, stopping at his earlobe which he nipped, causing Ben to let out a moan.  Joe continued, “I’m going to start the night by kissing, licking and sucking every inch of your chest…taking my sweet time…paying special attention to your pecs, which I know, drives you absolutely crazy….”

“Fuck, Joe…” Ben said, thrusting toward Joe’s leg.  

The phone ringer was set loudly on vibrate and it started to shimmy on the bed. They couldn’t help but follow the jarring noise with their eyes.  ‘Lena’ lit up on the screen.

“Christ.” Joe said peeling himself up, releasing Ben, now a panting, deep-shade-of-pink mess.  He nodded at Joe, who picked up the call and pressed speaker.  “Lena…” Joe said, instantly switching his voice from sultry lover to upbeat dude, a demonstration of his acting chops.

“Hi, Y’all.  Hope I’m not getting you at a bad time.” Lena said, sounding sleepy.

Ben started to rearrange his lower half, still amazed that Joe could arouse him so quickly when he spoke dirty to him - and he knew Joe had barely started his soliloquy.

“No, no,” Ben said softly rolling on his side facing into the bed to muffle his voice, “Just one of the last times I may have sex for the next 18 years.” Joe leaned over and swatted his butt playfully.

“Do you have any idea what’s it’s like to lie on your back with your legs STRAIGHT UP in the FUCKING air for a half hour--no breaks.  I’m not talking bent legs or yoga-pose legs, I’m talking IN-THE-AIR-SLIGHTLY-OVER-YOUR-HEAD-STRAIGHT-ASS-LEGS. 30 MINUTES. AND BARE-ASS NAKED.  ANY idea what that’s like?” Lena asked, annunciating every word.

“Can’t say I do, but um…thank you??!” Joe responded, his voice rising as he tried for the perfect mix of gratitude and sympathy. “But, I thought that was a myth.” “Well,” Lena said, “I thought so too, but this woman in my lab tried IVF three times and the third time she did the legs-in-the-air thing and she SWORE that’s what did it.  Well, you know, I’d do anything for you boys.  But this one is it for me.  You guys are done after this one, right?”

“Yes,” Joe and Ben resounded together.  

“Have to say, I was surprised it happened so quickly…” Joe said.  “We’re thrilled, but just trying to plan…”

“Well, good luck with that. You know life with kids is all ‘best-laid plans of mice and men,’” Lena said.  “And, how’s Alexander?” her voice rose in a chipper tone.

“He’s great.  Really great.” Ben said, “Hey, Lena. Did you like puzzles-you know, as a kid?”

“As a KID??  What do you mean? Life is a series of puzzles.  I’d be bored out of my mind if I didn’t have a bunch of things to piece together and solve every day!” Lena said.

“And…there we have it.” Joe smirked and then nodded seeing truth in Lena’s statement. There certainly were lots of things to solve-more so now, it seemed.

“Oh, hey, I just had a sonogram and wanted to see if you wanted to know the baby’s…OMG, I gotta take this call-it’s about my research funding-call you tomorrow!” Lena squealed.

“WE WANT TO KNOW, TELL US.” Joe and Ben screamed into the phone, though they realized Lena clicked off.

They both fell back into the bed, groaning and laughing.

“Ok, then.  Not going to deal with that tonight either,” Joe said, heaving a heavy sigh.  “Maybe we should resume our prior positions? Take two?" Joe smiled as he turned off his phone and set it on the side table. He grabbed the remote and dimmed the lights, ready to close this roller coaster of a day – and celebrate their exciting new chapter - in the best way possible.

“You were…talking. Please continue.” Ben said breathing heavy, as he rolled onto his back and spread his legs.

Joe kneeled in between Ben’s parted legs and leaned over him resting on one arm, while the other hand began to unbutton Ben’s shirt slowly, letting his fingers skim his sternum, ever so lightly. His lips hovered just over Ben’s as he spoke. “As I kiss down your chest and abs, you’ll be saying my name over and over in between your delicious moans….I’ll get so hot, knowing how much I’m turning you.”

“You fucking do,” Ben said, his eyes rolling back, his blush returning.  

Joe continued, helping Ben ease out of his shirt.  “When I finally reach your jeans, you’ll be panting. And begging.  I’ll see you twitching--my mouth so close to you. I’ll know you’ll be ready to let passion consume you.  And then, finally, I’ll…”

[s-ultry]

please me - a tom holland fanfic

CHAPTER THREE

A/N: so i decided that i’d move my fanfic from wattpad to tumblr! just to give me a bit of a boost to continue it, i hope you guys enjoy!

chapter one | chapter two | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six

SUMMARY: when the billionaire meets the microbiologist.

sugardaddy!tom

Previously on Please Me

"Don't do that Belle," he audibly mumbled closing his eyes.

"Do what Mr. Holland?"

"Have a seat Ms. Lorems"

***

(warning: lowkey fifty shades of grey but who cares right?)

Her heart started beating fast, she didn't even know why. Belle was that type of girl who was lectured a lot, you may think she's used to it, but she isn't. Having her own father sitting with his boss to talk about her made her panic, she gulped her fears and sat down on Mr. Holland's left.

"Don't be scared, love. You're not in trouble," the boss sincerely glanced at her making all her nerves go away, while her father sat in confusion as to how they bonded so quickly even though they barely knew each other.

Her father cleared his throat catching both parties' attention. "Bellatrix, Mr. Holland and I have come to an agreement," he announced making sure he had her full attention. "Dad, may I ask what's this about?"

"You'll know now, now hush," he fakely smiled opening a folder that had many documents in it.

"Now, Belle. I personally talked to your father, we both have come to an agreement that we would like you to work for Holland Industries as my personal assistant. You will be paid regularly since your father is a huge part of this company my three assistants that you met earlier will be transferred to his command," Mr. Holland said, eyes piercing into hers as her breathing became heavier and heavier by the second.

"Bellatrix, I would persuade you but I feel like I already know your answer," her father spoke in a demanding tone forcing her to take the deal.

"Uh, um. May I look at the documents first?"

"Of course. Demitri, I'd like to speak to your daughter alone. You may proceed back to your office where your new assistants will be needing your help," Mr. Holland demanded which made Demitri walk out of the door.

It was only them now, and knowing how far his office is from everyone else's she started to panic. What if he killed her? Oh, come on Belle don't be stupid. No, but seriously! Would he? Belle's head was turning round and round when she finally blocked it all out.

"Let's go through the documents," he announced starting with the first contract. Throughout the contracts she really saw his business side, explaining every single sentence to her making sure she knew what she was getting into.

They also discussed when she would start working, she offered to start now. But, he refused immediately as she needed the proper work clothes and to read some sheets that he'd be giving her. Belle nodded in approval lowkey excited that she has some reading and homework to do.

There was one contract left, his eyes sparkled looking at it in which she didn't comprehend. But she had a feeling it would be something personal, by the looks of it.

"Belle, you are 19 years of age, correct?" He questioned making her nod in uncertainty as she leaned back in the chair.

"Do you trust me?"

"I met you last week, do you really think I would trus-"

"Just answer me."

"Yeah sure, all you've been is nice to me," she mumbled cracking her fingers.

"Are you gonna fight me?" He questioned with a smirk plastered on his rich face making her look down trying to calm her self before she actually does.

"Stop stalling, what's the contract about."

Mr. Holland then flipped to the first page, deeply taking a breath he focused on her brown globes trying to find what's hidden behind them. She focused on him, how his brown eyes sparkled but soon turned dark, almost lustful. The tension rising between them both.

"Belle Lorems, I am intrigued by you. I want to spend time with you, get to know you better. Take you to balls and parties, meet my friends and family. In exchange for your company, I'll be paying you. It seems that your father doesn't spend much on you even though I give him a huge salary, so I want to do it instead. I need you closer to me, so I introduced the idea of you being my assistant to your father. If you say yes, you can ask anything you want. If you say no, I still respect your decision," he declared in a serious tone.

Belle sat there shocked, she didn't believe what she just heard. Her mouth slightly open she blinked her eyes a couple of times to sink in the information she just received. Pinching herself slightly she knew this wasn't a dream.

"S-So, you want me to be your sugar baby?"

"Technically," the man nodded hoping for an honest opinion. He was a very strong leader, very ambitious. But, Mr. Holland did care about Belle dearly. Even though he hasn't known her for long, her records show everything he needed to know. She needed somebody to love her, she's too selfless, which can be a good thing, but he wanted to make her feel like a princess.

"Do I have to give you my decision now?" The brunette hesitantly asked in which he shook his head is disapproval.

"No, love. Tell me your answer whenever you feel comfortable. You're free to leave if you want to," he smiled standing up as he slithered his arm around her little waist.

"But Mr. Holland, I don't have a ride back home," Belle stuttered as she fiddled with her fingers yet again.

"Have a driver's license?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Take one of my cars, I'll come by later anyways to talk to your father so I can pick it up." Mr. Holland stated walking out of the elevator into his private parking lot.

"No way! No chance in hell! What if I wreck your car? What if I crash! What if someone steals it and it'll be all my fault-"

"Belle," he gently grasped both of her wrists averting her attention to his. Belle was panting, she was tired of the bad thoughts that flowed into her brain.

"It's okay, I promise. Take whatever you desire," the Britt grinned as he showcased his luxurious cars to the shy girl in which her eyes widened at the sight. Different sport, luxury, and most expensive cars were displayed in front of her. Different colours, different styles, and structure.

"So?"

"You choose," she whispered. She wanted him to choose so he would pick a car that he used often for her to drive, Belle didn't want to drive something brand new as she would wreck it. Although, she knew she was a good driver and was very confident of herself.

"Take the Porsche Cayenne, love." Mr. Holland announced unlocking the safe box where all of the keys were stored, he walked back to her and put the keys into her grip. "Are you sure, Mr. Holland? I can take a taxi," she explained but his large hand covered her mouth making her stop talking.

"Hush, kitten. I told you it's alright. Now, go enjoy," his emotion shifted from dominance to happiness in seconds which baffled her. Belle shyly walked up to the dark purple car, unlocking it and seating herself in the driver's seat. She closed the door, rolling down the window as he walked up to it.

"Drive safe, love. Everything is there for you," he declared in which she nodded. He then opened the garage gate by pressing the button and bid her a goodbye, she reversed as she saw his figure disappearing as the elevator doors closed.

As she drove home, she got used to the car immediately, which surprised her. Pulling up the driveway to her lovely family quarters, she saw her whole family was there, looking out of the living room window to be exact. Belle huffed in annoyance as she had to explain how she got such a car, or why she was driving it.

Unlocking the door she hopped out to unlock the back seat's door, under the dozens of contracts she found a box with a lavender bow on it. She grabbed all of her stuff locking the car behind her. Belle cursed when she caught her family's gaze from the living room.

"Who's car is that for, Bellatrix?" Everyone asked simultaneously leading her to lick her lips in nervousness.

"Um, uh. Mr. Holland gave it to me in order to drive home safely to read all the documents for my job with him." Belle spoke straightforward leading them to nod their heads.

"You got the job?" Her father asked, even though he saw her earlier.

"No, I want to re-read through the documents again."

"Have fun with that, loser!" Her older brother Klaus screamed as he played with his football.

Belle raced upstairs to her bedroom, locking the door behind her she changed from her sweats into a very large graphic tee, leaving her warm-toned legs on display, and untying her hair leaving her straight hair cascade onto her back. She plopped down onto her bed unwrapping the big box she had received. A gasp escaped her lips as she saw a MacBook Pro displayed in front of her, she then lifted the card with a beautiful handwriting.

"To Belle, I hope that your new phone and laptop suit you. You can contact me further on the contract on either device, my contact is listed. Mr. Holland," the words escaped her lips so smoothly. She searched through the box and saw the latest iPhone paired with her laptop, she felt guilty that he had spent so much on her already.

As she was walking downstairs to get her a few snacks to accompany her whilst reading the files she saw that her phone was already set and ready to go, with all social media and emails that have been transferred to her.

"Is that a new phone?" Her older siblings scared her making her squeal in fright, she believed that they were those twins in the horror movies.

"Yeah, why."

"Who got it for you," her sister Luna interrogated her grabbing one of her mom's delicious confections of the countertop. Belle rummaged through the pantry to find some chips, fruit, and coconut water.

"M-Mr. Holland," she stuttered pouring the coconut water into the blender as she was creating her all-time favourite berry smoothie.

"Sounds like a sugar daddy to me," Klaus chuckled with Luna. But soon he realised that her face turned bright red, his expression was as shocking as anything. He turned to his sister and whispered what he had just realised, Luna put her hand to her mouth with eyes wide.

"He is your sugar daddy! That's why you have that car outside, and a new phone," he screeched making Belle scrunch her eyebrows. She took her snacks and headed for her bedroom yet again, the only place she loved as much as the lab.

2 hours in and Belle already finished all the contracts for her job, but now it was the only contract that she knew took time. The Contract, she cringed at the words engraved on the paper but soon would get used to it.

"Rule no. 1: Be honest and tell whatever is on your mind, be open with Mr. Holland," she read in which she didn't mind. As she read through the rules they were all okay until she reached the very intimate and sexual bit, she took a deep breath and began.

"Rule no. 23: Do not force yourself to do anything you are not comfortable with to please Mr. Holland," she scrunched her nose as she re-read it over and over. Yes, she was smart with a 4.0 GPA but she didn't quite understand it.

Belle then decided to call Mr. Holland to ask him about the rule, she picked up her phone and pressed his contact number. Just as she was about to close, she heard his voice. Placing the phone to her ear she heard him panting.

"Mr. Holland, are you okay?"

"Yes, love. Just on the treadmill," she then heard beeping noises indicating that he turned off his treadmill and left the room.

"Um, Mr. Holland I have a question," she asked shyly playing with her necklace she pulled up one leg to place her head on her knee.

"Yes."

"Rule no. 23, I don't quite comprehend it," The brown eyed girl whispered making sure that her family didn't hear her.

"Oh, basically if we were to ever have sex, I wouldn't want you to force yourself to do something you're not comfortable with just to please me." His raspy British accent seeped through the phone allowing a red tint to erupt on her cheeks.

"And Rule no. 28?"

"That's a bit self-explanatory, love. You either call me one of the names that are listed," he explained making her smile.

"So, you like it when I call you Daddy?" She smirked trying to muffle her chuckles, Belle then heard him groan on the other side of the phone making her gasp followed by a deep breath.

"Belle, don't joke with me."

"What's wrong Daddy?" Belle then roared with laughter as she can imagine Mr. Holland on the other side growling and growing angry.

"I definitely use that for jokes, don't expect me to use it for anything else," she smiled flipping through the pages of the contract making sure she didn't miss anything else.

"So, have you made your decision?"

"Yes, come to collect the contracts Mr. Holland," Belle sassily replied closing the phone. There was no going back now, her signature was already plastered on the official paper. She didn't know why she even did it, but she wanted to enjoy the thrill of it. Belle wanted to enjoy being loved by someone, not for attention but for affection.

The brunette made sure she signed most of the contracts, after that she ate her snacks whilst watching some shows she missed out on. An hour into her all-time favourite show Sherlock, she heard a knock on her door. "Come in!"

The door then unlocked to reveal a handsome man who she had seen earlier, his eyes scanning every part of her body as she tried to cover herself. "How are you, doll?" Mr. Holland questioned her making her fake pout.

"What?"

"I was watching Sherlock!"

"Benedict would be happy that you said that, love." He smiled grabbing her hand gently placing a soft kiss on the back of her hand. "You know him!" Belle squealed loudly in excitement.

"We worked on a business agreement together, you seem excited to see him more than me?"

"Of course I'm excited to see you, but how he played him made me who I am today," the brunette smiled sincerely remembering how she taught herself the Mind Palace Technique, or how she dressed up as Sherlock way before the shows, but the books.

"Get changed, I'm taking you shopping," Mr. Holland snapped her out of her daydream making her eyes broaden and her cheeks tint themselves again.

"Rule no. 4, I can spend as much money on you as I please. Now, get your arse to your closet to get dressed. I'll be downstairs having a nice chat with your father," he got up from the bed fixing his tie and checking his watch to see it's half past 4.

"Why do I have a feeling that you'll be lecturing him?" She screamed from her bathroom whilst she was changing.

"Don't you worry, love. I won't be long, meet me downstairs!"

After their small conversation, Belle applied a light amount of makeup with a soft winged liner to give it a natural look. She chose her high waisted light blue skinny jeans, a mustard yellow top, and some flats.

Belle proceeded down the stairs where she saw Mr. Holland and her father having a serious conversation, but they soon stopped when they saw Belle at the end of the steps. She looked sun-kissed, natural and not cakey like other girls.

"Shall we?"

"We shall," she beamed as she took his hand as they walked off the patio and to the car she was driving earlier. During the drive, they stopped to get coffee on their way to a fancy area for fashion and rich people.

"How did the pop squad take in your news?" Belle chuckled at the thought of them squealing, she never really was fond of their behaviour during her days at the lab. She's actually quite shocked that they took the same major as her, but she will never judge a book by its cover.

"Who?"

"Your former assistants, Erika and her friends. Sir," the brunette informed him trying out the words that she has to call him. Although, she will be calling him Sir as he is now her boss.

"Oh, they really call themselves that?" Mr. Holland chuckled entering the fancy area where she saw rich people walk with their poodles and butlers. "They took it quite harshly, but I told them they'd be more relaxed under your father's control and focus more on their studies."

"So I won't be relaxed working for you?" Belle quickfire making him shake his head with a smirk laced around his lips.

"I know what I'm about to give you will be easy for you, spoke with your Professor. He told me that you finish all his assignments for the next week in class, quite impressive," Mr. Holland admitted taking a glance at her than focusing on the road.

"Thank you, Sir."

They both then sat in awkward silence as he looked for where the parking is, Mr. Holland may seem as very demanding, but in reality he hated people parking his car for him. Them standing out in the sun, taking in the harshness of spoiled brats is already enough, they didn't need his hell.

As they parked, they both jumped out and Belle was shocked as to how no paparazzi were bombarding them. "It's an enclosed area. love," he spoke making her nod her head in comprehension.

They enter a store for the shall we say work environment, the lady of course welcomed them and offered some champagne in which Mr. Holland accepted but Belle refused. "Okay, love. I've already picked out some clothes for you, try them out," he smiled ushering her to the fitting room where she saw multiple outfits.

Belle walked out with the first outfit, a plain white top with a pencil skirt in which he nodded too. After countless amounts of outfits, Mr. Holland went to the cashier where Belle tried to take out her money in which he refused instantly.

"Remember rule no. 5? I pay for everything that you desire."

"Oh, can I at least pay for our dinner."

"No."

"Pleaaaassseee??" Belle begged to unleash her puppy face making him stare at her in confusion, but soon he gave up and agreed. But, he reminded her that only this once she has the chance to pay for something in which she thanked him for.

They made their way into yet again another fancy store, but he dragged her to the lingerie section making her blush greet her cheeks yet again. "What am I doing here," she whispered looking around to see only a few couples around.

"I booked a room for you, chose a few things. Try them on," Mr. Holland slid his arms around her waist pulling her close. "You don't need to show me," he continued. His lips then moved to her ear making her shocked and unable to speak.

"Make sure they look nice, can't wait to see them soon," Mr. Holland seductively whispered in her ear making her muffle her scream, what a fucking tease.

Belle tried on many sets of it, making sure she doesn't show him because she's shy and that's not what you show to a guy that you met a week ago.

"How is everything, kitten?"

"Good, I think I'm ready to go."

They made their way out of the store heading to their car they placed all of the bags in the back of the car. She huffed in relief as he revved the engine and made his way to the main road, "oh you fucking jerk."

"Me?"

"Yeah, you! I'm almost home and I was supposed to buy you dinner!"

Mr. Holland chuckled pulling up to the driveway of her home, he parked and then glanced at her with lust in his eyes, how the moonlight kissed her face and how she looked down and blush drove him to insanity. With all of the bags in her hand she bid him a goodnight making her way up to her room, she looked from her window and he signalled her to call him in which she agreed to do.

As he drove away she beamed, she finally knew how it felt to be cared for and loved by someone with just one intimate moment. Belle changed into her graphic tee and placed all the bags in her closet, she then made herself comfortable on her bed when she then heard that she received a message on her phone.

"Oh, no."

***

cliffhanger yet again ;)

- a

[pandemicspring]

Easter Sunday

Easter was challenging. Sundays are already challenging because they’re a day to be with family. Extra challenging when they’re a holiday. Like I said before, many people in my family’s neighborhood are not taking the quarantine seriously. My tio had a cookout. I felt foolish being the only one not in attendance. Do I, one person, make a difference? But at the same time, I knew I shouldn’t attend when I don’t know where everyone else is coming from. Even then, I felt like I didn’t know what to do. I tried to console myself by remembering we have a whole life of holidays ahead of us. 

I used to struggle with holiday depression. That’s much dissipated as the health of my family has improved a lot in the past few years. This Easter it came back with great strength. I didn’t do anything the entire day. I suppose that could mean in other contexts that I relaxed, but I really didn’t do anything. I don’t know where the time went because I didn’t watch tv or turn on the Nintendo. No reading and I only ate kinda sort of. I did journal a bit, and I went on a walk some. But mostly I just existed.

On my walk which at most covered a mile out into the neighborhoods around my house, I saw many people houses holding celebrations with their families. Either that, or people just own many cars. I felt lonely and embarrassed. I ran into my bio professor. I felt really happy about that because we got to talk for a moment and she reassured me that it’s important to stay home, that she’s missing her parents today too. That made me feel more sure of things. That I ran into her is one of the reasons I love my school. I love that so many of our professors live close by and that they’re so warm to say HI when they see you in the neighborhood. 

I still haven’t written the essay due tomorrow for her class, but maybe I’ll get to it tonight. It looms over me when I do anything. She’s been very compassionate and understanding. I struggle because I don’t have my mind on writing science papers at all. Not about ecology and conservation. Climate change is important, but I’m a microbiologist. I only want to think about my microbes. I only want to study viruses. I know that the world is still falling apart around us, but this pandemic feels like it bites into everything. 

This week will mark the week that my housemate either returns or he doesn’t. I imagine him telling me the day he’ll be coming and I scurry to clean the house well before he gets here. I did a deep clean right after everyone left, but it’s been a month now and things have become messy again. I have another scenario I imagine. I imagine he tells me he’s not coming. I tell him I know and then I clean the house anyways. It’s important to turn over a new leaf, right?  Either way it’s okay.

At one point I did call my mom. I had to tell her about the good news. Today Michigan reported only 645 new cases and 95 deaths. I know it’s too sudden to be excited, but the last week has been the same amount every day. That means a plateau. It wouldn’t be so crazy for it to drop, right? I just worry that it hasn’t even begun with the west side yet. Here in Kalamazoo we added 5 new cases today to get to a total of 84, but we all know they’re not doing enough testing. My mom asked if I wanted to come over, but I know it would be irresponsible. I have to give it a few days until we know if anybody got sick from Easter. So far, no one in my family has gotten sick, but I feel worry that it may be coming. 

I texted my friends that next year we have to take a squad picture with the Easter bunny. That’s something I’m looking forward to. Somehow, around midnight I finally felt awake to begin doing things. I finally cooked myself a meal, pictured in process above. Added sausage and egg and ate it in bread w/ cheese spread and hot salsa. So delicious. And began Unorthodox on Netflix! A very cool show. Haha, we’ll see about this essay now. Thank you for tuning in! I hope that your Easter was a beautiful celebration for Jesus has risen. 

[medstudent-mom-blog]

This is something I didn’t want to worry too early but since I’m way too organized and hate last-minute decisions I had to give this a thought and really look for the best solutions I could get. Let’s share these thoughts with you!

Will I continue to study online?

Personally, I need and prefer to study online because I don’t have the help of friends/family neither want to leave my daughter for a whole day (which is kinda due to my separation anxiety).

So now I needed to determine what I wanted exactly...

Which specialization do I want?

I can’t tolerate death or operations, which is a major downside of wanting to become a doctor and I know many will think I am definitely not a good fit for this profession because death is part of the life cycle and present in almost every specialization, but I know I can help others I know I can make a difference and this matters!

This is one of the reasons I made a list of specializations I could easily work in and still help others with their health:

- Family Doctor

In Portugal (my home country) as a family doctor in public health or private sector, I can take patients with acute to chronic ailments and skip the deathly part of the profession, so this is something I could explore or simply focus on my field of holistic therapies which again wouldn’t involve operations, death etc.

- Midwife (though there is always a tiny possibility of death (but it’s still not the same as operating someone or opening death bodies)

As a mom who experienced a not sot great hospital birth, having the opportunity to help women in such a sensitive but beautiful life stage would be amazing. Plus I love babies!

- Microbiologist Researcher

I always had the bug for microbiology and immunology. I always wanted to learn how we get sick, how does bacteria, virus etc makes us sick and how can we fight it, how can we avoid it, etc

- Physician Assistant

A PA is not only shorter in terms of study duration but can also perform many of the same healthcare-related tasks as a physician due must work in collaboration with a physician. A pa has the flexibility to change speciality with little to no additional training or certification requirements and has a more predictable work schedule or no on-call hours.

Do I want a PhD, a Master or is a B.S enough?

Well, this is a hard one and I haven’t decided what I wanna do but for example, to become a PA I would need to finish a Master in Science which has an average duration of 2-4 years (full-time including clinical rotations) and estimated required clinical hours of 2,000+ clinical hours. (1)

Can I afford it?

Honestly, it will all depend on how my freelance work will go and also depending on the price. I made so research anyways and linked below master degrees that are though online and could be below 20k. Check it out if you're interested!

Clinical Microbiology and Infectious Diseases (Master and other certification options)

Master of Biological Sciences

Master of Science in Nursing

Postgraduate studies with the University of Edinburgh - For example,  Master of Public Health (MPH) with an average cost of $6000.

Lastly, since I have some educational background in holistic therapies and nutrition, I decided to give it a try and find options in this field.

Here’s what I found (note I have not checked for credibility, recognition neither final prices):

Funiber (Iberoamerican University Foundation) - Click and check their Masters and Doctorates available. This Foundation also provides various scholarships and has many degrees that are 100% online or partially.

In most European countries such as Portugal, there is no regulation regarding practising in alternative medicine and therapies, so certain courses in specific fields are enough to get a job.

[glittership]

Episode #74 — "Best for Baby" by Rivqa Rafael

Direct download here!

And here’s the RSS feed: http://glittership.podbean.com/feed/

Episode 74 is part of the Autumn 2018 issue!

Support GlitterShip by picking up your copy here: http://www.glittership.com/buy/

    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a “favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

[Full story after the cut.]

  Hello! Welcome to GlitterShip episode 74 for June 17, 2019. This is your host, Keffy, and I’m super excited to be sharing this story with you. Today we have a GlitterShip original, which is available in the Autumn 2018 issue that you can pick up at GlitterShip.com/buy, on Gumroad at gum.co/gship08, or on Amazon, Nook, Kobo, and other ebook retailers.

If you’ve been waiting to pick up your copy of the Tiptree Award Honor Listed book, GlitterShip Year Two, there’s a great deal going on for Pride over at StoryBundle. GlitterShip Year Two is part of a Pride month LGBTQ fantasy fiction bundle. StoryBundle is a pay-what-you-want bundle site. For $5 or more, you can get four great books, and for $15 or more, you’ll get an additional five books, including GlitterShip Year Two, and a story game. That comes to as little as $1.50 per book or game. The StoryBundle also offers an option to give 10% of your purchase amount to charity. The charity for this bundle is Rainbow Railroad, a charity that helps queer folks get to a safe place if their country is no longer safe for them.

http://www.storybundle.com/pride

Our story today is “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, but first, our poem, which is “Aubade: King Under the Mountain” by Tristan Beiter.

    Tristan Beiter is a poet and speculative fiction nerd originally from Central Pennsylvania. His poems have previously appeared in GlitterShip, Eternal Haunted Summer, Bird’s Thumb, and Laurel Moon. When not writing or reading he can usually be found crafting absurdities with his boyfriend or shouting about literary theory. Find him on Twitter @TristanBeiter.

  Aubade: King Under the Mountain

by Tristan Beiter

  I wake to the crackle of the thousand-year hearth in the center of the room, to the bells tolling. Never church bells, but the deer harness hanging on the wall.

I stretch towards his space, removing my earplugs—which I have taken to wearing since even the tomtes snore something terrible. Luxuriate in the furs: big piles of wolf pelts and

bear skins that make up our bed under the intertwined roots of these seven great pine trees which are our roof, warm, with the wind through them and older than even Klampe-Lampe,

who has risen already and left. But he’ll be back soon. I can see the pile of battered, burnished gold and silver, still waiting to bedizen him, bracers and torcs and earrings

and necklace upon necklace—careless ugly riches that have lasted generations of trolls living hundreds of years, all mounded up and displayed on knobbled bodies

and in untamed hair. I pluck my earring, bracer, heavy silver beads from the ground and put them on. When he returns, he’ll carry me in his left hand to the throne room under the mountain.

    And now for “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael, read by A.J. Fitzwater.

Rivqa Rafael is a lapsed microbiologist who lives in Sydney, Australia, where she writes speculative fiction about queer women, Jewish women, cyborg futures, and hope in dystopias. Her short stories have been published in Defying Doomsday, Crossed Genres’ Resist Fascism, and elsewhere. She is co-editor of feminist robot anthology Mother of Invention.

AJ Fitzwater is a dragon of repute living between the cracks of Christchurch, New Zealand. Their fiction appears in such venues as Clarkesworld, Lackingtons, Beneath Ceaseless Skies, and Glittership. A collection of their Cinrak the Lesbian Capybara Pirate stories will be out in May 2020 from Queen of Swords Press. Their stranger than fiction can be found on Twitter @AJFitzwater

    Best for Baby

by Rivqa Rafael

When I jack in, I shove the plug into its socket harder than I should. The disconnect–reconnect tone combination sounds; the terminal is as grumpy as I am. Who wouldn’t be? I’ve been kept back late in the lab to finish a job. Which was stolen from me. By the person who asked me to do this, as a “favor.” Who also happens to be my supervisor, so I can’t say no.

I load up the interface, drilling straight down to the zygote’s chromosomal level. Hayden’s been a bit careless, like he always is on the rare occasions he actually gets in the wet lab. I get to work, fixing his mistakes. Back in my body, I’m grinding my teeth and hunching my shoulders. Before I sink deeper into the VR, I take some deep breaths and roll my shoulders the way Lena showed me. Her yoga obsession has fringe benefits for me—my body needs to be relaxed if I’m going to do my job properly. Just for a moment, I’m back in our living room with Lena coaxing Kris and me to stretch with her. It’s enough to refocus me.

For all that it’s a science, there’s an art to working in the interface. The prion scalpel is tiny—obviously—and delicate; it needs to be handled with care, the type of care that only comes from being completely in tune with your neural implant and the system it’s connected to. It’s something Hayden seems to lack. Keeping my movements graceful (thank you, Lena), I begin to repair the damage. In here, I’m both the pipette and the hand depressing the button; I’m the prion scalpel; I’m the machine. The translation overlay is just a guide; I’ve been able to recognize bases by shape for a long time now. When I started, I thought I’d never remember the sequences, but I know our most common mods by heart now.

Finding my rhythm, I begin to work a little faster; I’ve almost forgotten about Hayden and his insistence on getting his grubby hands all over this project. I don’t have forever in here—the zygote needs to go back on ice—but I’m in the zone now and there’s still plenty of time. I’ve got this. Sure, I’m not going to get any credit for it, but Hayden’s going to owe me. I’m logging everything, so he can’t conveniently “forget.” If I play my cards right, this might be the last step to me finally getting a promotion. Goodness knows I deserve one. Maybe Hayden would even back me up.

I zoom out to look back at my work so far, and gasp. Something’s wrong. I should be about halfway done, but it’s like I was never here. No, worse. There are deadly cancer mutations here, lots of them, right where I was working. All types that wouldn’t show up until later in life, too. None of it was here before, and time is short.

  You had to know Hayden pretty well to pick up his aura of desperation as he talked up the state-of-the-art equipment. PCR machines and centrifuges just look like boxes with touchscreens if you don’t understand what they do, after all.

The couple lacked the air of anguish that infertile couples usually have when they walk through. Or the wonder often displayed by more-than-twos and gonadically incompatible—my heart panged as I thought of what it would take for us, how we’d—stop, it was pointless even to think about it, I told myself for the millionth time. I just worked here; I’d never be a client. Kris had already banned me from talking too much about work. Like me, she was implanted. You grow up knowing your place, not rocking the boat, aiming for what’s feasible. Lena was more willing to indulge me the fantasy; would we split everything evenly, or would one of us provide the mitochondria and the other two a set of chromosomes each? Both could work. I snapped myself out of it. Kris was right about this one; I just wished I could convince myself to believe it as thoroughly as she did.

These two eyed the machinery with indifference. Probably here for mods, and mods only. If they weren’t using a surrogate, I’d drink my Taq polymerase.

“Impressive. How do you guarantee your results, though?” Mom-to-be glittered with diamonds—genuine, I could only assume. Closest I’d ever got to any, anyway.

“As I already explained…” Hayden caught my eye before I could look away. “Perhaps you’d like to meet one of our geneticists? Merav can answer your questions in far more detail.”

Dad-to-be’s suit was so well-cut and so fine, it might even be real wool. His hair was immaculate and he smelled of expensive cologne. His HUD glasses were shiny, a model too new for me to recognize. “That would be excellent.”

Setting my face into a neutral expression, I swiveled on my stool to face them properly while Hayden introduced them as Mr Blake and Dr Ashdowne. The names rang a vague bell and they were obviously capital-I Important, but I didn’t work it out until later. Hayden scolded me later for not standing up, but it just didn’t occur to me. As it was, I was going to have to start mixing my reagents again by the time this interruption was over. “I’d be happy to.” I did my best to distill and explain the years of research into genetic variables, what we could reliably reproduce and what we couldn’t, how we managed successive generations of mods, and how we tested each zygote’s chromosomes before allowing it to progress to blastomere—all non-invasive.

They nodded along as I spoke; I couldn’t tell if they really understood, but Hayden smiled at me, which was a rare occurrence, so I was lulled into feeling grateful.

At some point, they started talking to each other, right over the top of me. They dithered about hair color, wondering whether the stereotypes about blonde hair still held. Did they notice the irritation in my voice as I tried to explain how many other variables might be at play in their child’s success?

“We just want the best for our baby,” Ashdowne said, almost pleading, but there was an edge to her voice that made me think that “best” meant something different to her than it did to me.

“Of course. But this is just the beginning. We can’t control much of growth and development when upbringing plays such a large part. And epigenetics have an effect as well.” Keeping my voice even and patient was hard; there were only so many ways I could say the same thing. “Think of it as… venture capitalism. You’re making the best possible investment with every tool at your disposal, but that doesn’t guarantee that things will work out exactly how you planned.”

Ashdowne nodded, but Blake’s eyes were flinty. “You’re saying our child might crash, and it won’t be your responsibility?”

“I’m saying your kid might dye their hair one day, and that’s not something we can control for. We’re very clear about what we promise and what we don’t. It’s in the contract; I assume you’ve read it. It’s up to you.” Maybe it wasn’t the right PR line, but I wasn’t PR.

They signed the contract.

  I put the zygote back on ice and try to log into another. This couple only wants one child; that’s part of why they want it perfect. Still, each client typically has more than will be used; we need that margin for error as much as the IVF specialists do. There are four more zygotes. This should be salvageable. But each one gives me an “unavailable” notification. What is going on?

Returning to the first zygote, I allow myself a tiny sigh of relief when I can still get back in. It’s a mess, but I can fix it in time. I think. I set up an extra firewall, the best I can code on the fly. We’re down to the wire here. Last chance to get it right, assuming the other zygotes are gone for good. If this one doesn’t work, doesn’t stick, we’re going to have to fess up and get more samples—if they don’t cancel the contract, which wouldn’t surprise me. I’d heard that Ashdowne had found the induction and retrieval unusually difficult, and it wasn’t fun at the best of times. So much for the Important clients. Fucking Hayden, honestly.

Working in the same order I always do, I begin cleaning up the chromosomes. Again. It’s almost easier this time. The errors are so obvious, it would be comical if it weren’t so dire. As though someone used a pickaxe instead of a prion scalpel.

I’m wincing, I realize, just looking at these errors. I’ve never seen so many cancer mutations in one place. Forcing my body to relax, I get back into my rhythm. This is definitely within my capabilities to fix, and with the logs I have running, maybe I’ll get some recognition for it. Maybe even that bonus Hayden had hinted at, even though it’s seeming less and less likely that it’ll be him authorizing it.

My firewall pings; someone’s trying to log in. Hayden.

“That firewall is going to look very suspicious to the auditors,” he says, using a private channel on the company comms.

“Standard protocol when there’s a security breach, which there certainly seems to have been. I hope you’re looking into it, Hayden?” I’m pretty sure he isn’t, but I choose my words carefully, aware that my logs will pick this up along with everything else.

  Hayden added me to the team officially, and I had to sit in on endless meetings when I should have been doing real work. He assured me that it would be worth it; that there were bonuses for jobs like this. That is, jobs for billionaire corporate royalty like Oliver Blake and Penelope Ashdowne. So I did my best, and that seemed to be good enough. From what I could tell, they liked having an “expert” on board, even if they didn’t actually listen to me very often.

But then one day, Hayden was in the meeting before I arrived, chatting to “Oliver” about the stock market and complimenting “Penelope” on her outfit. After all these weeks, I was still calling them by titles; Hayden had said it was important I was respectful. That didn’t seem to apply to him, though. He ran a hand over his sleek hair, as though checking it still hid his neural implant. “Oh, Merav, didn’t you get my memo? I really need you on that rush job. I’ll take this from here.”

“But—” I bit my tongue quickly. Hayden was my supervisor and he was within his rights to do this. Outside the room, I checked my work datapad.

I hadn’t missed any messages.

  “Oh, this doesn’t look like a security breach to me. Seems like an internal error.”

Staying quiet, I carefully roll chromosome 19 back up while I think through my options. There’s no way an audit would incriminate me; my logs are streaming as they should. What is Hayden playing at? “Have you checked on the zygotes in meatspace?” I ask finally.

“Some kind of lab mishap. Terrible, isn’t it?” So that was why the other zygotes were “unavailable,” with this one only missed because I’d been working on it.

My heart thunders in my chest. “That’s going to suck for whoever made that mistake. What’s worse, do you think, the docked pay or having to apologize in person to the parents?”

“Tough one. Sure is a shame for that person.”

“Still, one zygote is better than none.”

“Fuck me, you’re actually trying to fix it,” he says. It takes me a second to notice he’s swapped to socmed comms, the one that’s supposed to be the most secure on the market. No logging options at all.

“No, I am fixing it. It’s my job.” Frantically, I switch to loudspeaker mode, and my datapad to record ambient sound. It’ll catch all the lab noises as well, but it’s the best I can do. The red light blinks at me; I allow myself to exhale and return to the chromosome I was working on.

Instead of replying, Hayden changes tack. “You have a long-term girlfriend, don’t you?”

“Two, actually.” In ordinary circumstances, I’d enjoy flustering Hayden with that. It’s not a secret and we encounter plenty of polyamorous folk in our line of work, but I’m completely unsurprised that he hasn’t paid attention. But I’m too stressed and wary to enjoy the moment.

“I, ah, huh.” He falters for a second; I hear skepticism that I, of all people, could possibly have not just one but two lovers. But he’s clearly a man on a mission and plunges on. “Ever wanted a baby of your own? The… three of you?”

I finish up the short arm of chromosome 2; no colon cancer on my watch. “We might adopt one day, if we can afford it.”

“What if you could, though? Have a biological child, I mean. You’d want to?”

“I don’t want things I can’t have. Waste of time.” I borrow Kris’s words for this lie, but it’s hard to imagine a person I’m less interested in having this discussion with than Hayden.

He does this fake laugh, short and barking. “Lots of other things to spend that money on anyway, right?”

“Sure, if you had it.” Just a couple more silent mutations and I can move on to cleaning up the epigenetic layer. Time to work out the end game. “What’s this about, Hayden?”

“What if I told you there was better money in just… stopping now, if you know what I’m saying?”

I recalibrate the scalpel and begin clearing the methylation around the DNA; there’s way too much, because of course—Hayden fouled up everything he could. “No, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, are you stupid, or are you being deliberately obtuse?”

I take my time replying. I’m working, after all, and this part is fiddly. “You’re going to have to explain yourself either way.”

He only hesitates for a moment. “I know some powerful people. People who have an interest in seeing Blake and Ashdowne suffer.”

“They’re last names now? You were such pals.” Methylation is at regulation levels now. Next, I sculpt the histones to the shape that centuries of research has determined to be ideal. Working quickly, I correct the errors to the surrounding proteins. A perfect zygote.

“You know what your problem is, Merav? You have no idea how to play the game. You think hard work is rewarded. It isn’t. You have to be daring. Take a risk. Not as though the modded are ever going to give us a hand up, right?”

  That first meeting. “You’ve got one of those implants, I see,” Ashdowne said, eyeing the side of my head, where my undercut showed off the neural implant. Like my early adopter parents, I was proud of my body hacks and what they could do. No gen mods in the world can tune you into tech like an implant can. Wearables? VR headsets? Ha.

Blake dragged me back to reality. “They’re illegal if you’ve been modded, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Unfair advantage to have both, right?” I struggled to keep the sarcasm from my voice. A thousand years on my salary, and, by inference, my parents’, wouldn’t be enough to pay for mods. I might like my implant, but I didn’t like being treated like dirt for having it.

Hayden was all polite formality. “Merav’s implant allows her to interface directly with our machinery. We couldn’t do what we do without our ‘planted staff.” Hayden was quite willing to keep his implant covered to keep the clients happy, and he was pretty enough to get away with it.

“Ah.” His expression didn’t change, but the sneer was evident anyway.

“We just bought that little company that makes this brand, remember, dear?” Ashdowne raised an eyebrow at her husband. “Whatever it takes to get the best.”

“That’s right!” Hayden said. “You get what you pay for in this industry. It’s a cliché, but it’s true. If you’ll come this way? You haven’t seen the clinic yet.”

And then they were gone, leaving only the scent of cologne and perfume.

  They’d deserve it. They would. They care as little for me as a person. For a terrible, shameful second, I’m tempted. I imagine it; going off the grid, doing illegal mods for the rest of my life. Holding a baby, my baby, our baby, in my arms.

I zoom out and look at the zygote in its entirety. Regardless of how horrid this baby’s parents are and my dead-end job that undervalues me and underpays me, after I’m done, doctors and nurses will make every attempt to give this tiny clump of cells the chance to become a person. And these days, they tend to get it right, especially with a proven surrogate. The mutations that are left won’t kill this child, only make their later life a misery of radiotherapy and chemo. Teach the parents empathy? I don’t think so. In an instant, it’s clear what I need to do.

“You’re right, they want us right where we are.”

He chuckles with relief. “I knew you’d come around.”

“But I’m pretty sure assaulting their offspring isn’t going to change that.” I terminate the call with Hayden and send everything to head office; the logs of my work on the zygote, all of today’s communication between the two of us. Everything. Highest level alert, coded “suspected bioterrorism”; that should take care of it. They’ll deal with him better than I can.

“Time check,” I command the interface.

“Five minutes, twelve point four seconds.”

It’s enough time. Carefully, making sure not to introduce any last-minute errors, I unwind one 3p25 and fly up to OXTR. Just a couple of small changes are enough; a haplotype here, a couple of extra copies of an allele there, and I’m done and zipping the chromosome back up.

It’s a tiny change; there’s so much beyond one gene at play here. Goodness only knows what kind of methylation, and socialization for that matter, lies ahead for this kid. But the way I see it, a little extra empathy never hurt anybody.

  END

    “Best for Baby” is copyright Rivqa Rafael 2019.

“Aubade: King Under the Mountain” is copyright Tristan Beiter 2019.

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Thanks for listening, and we’ll be back soon with a reprint of “The Chamber of Souls” by Zora Mai Quýnh.

Episode #74 — “Best for Baby” by Rivqa Rafael was originally published on GlitterShip