#and i can’t go to the bank until monday afternoon and they’ll probably be like sorry we don’t know what the issue is hope this helps :)

[neixins]

still fighting for my life trying to get the gorgeous gorgeous qjj set btw

[ibijau]

Counterfeit AU pt6 / On AO3

Meng Yao makes himself useful after losing his job, and discovers something unexpected

Names are funny things, Meng Yao thinks as he stares at the sheet of paper in his hand. 

Funny things indeed.

-

After everything that went down in the Hanshi, it's Beastie that saves Meng Yao from himself.

Left to his own devices, he would have either wallowed in misery, or waste time proving to himself that everything that happened wasn't his fault, the way he knows he's done in other lives. But when he comes home after having his past lives thrown into his face and losing a job he loves, Beastie’s mother corners him just as he puts his key into his lock. Her daughter is on school holiday, she explains, and was supposed to be looked after by a friend with children of a similar age. But one of the children came down with something contagious, so the whole plan fell through, and the poor woman now desperately needs help finding someone to look after her daughter.

She’s not asking for Meng Yao to play the babysitter, but he knows so many people, he has so many connections, maybe he could pull a favour somewhere, help her out again.

“I can take care of her for a few days,” Meng Yao offers without thinking. “I’m jobless as of today.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! What happened?”

“My employer died,” Meng Yao replies, which is close enough to the truth. He doesn’t think Nie Huaisang will continue using his Shanzi alias after this, and they’ll never meet again. He might as well be dead. “I don’t plan on looking for a new job right away, so I can babysit for a while, it’s no big deal.”

She tries to insist that he doesn’t need to be doing that, but quickly agrees after some reassurance that Meng Yao doesn’t mind. She looks so relieved she could cry as she says she’ll drop Beastie in the morning. Meng Yao smiles, certain that his mother would be proud of him for doing what’s right.

Having Beastie around is definitely the best choice he could have made. She’s a good kid, but she’s also high energy and needs to be entertained, which means he doesn’t get to think too much about how much he misses Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen. 

They watch movies together, as they’ve always done when he picked her up after school. They go for walks to a nearby park, and once to a museum to look at old armours and swords. He buys Beastie a fake sword, though they agree to keep it at his place, since her mother already despairs that she so strongly favours boy’s toys. In fact, Meng Yao ends up just spoiling that little girl, the way he would have loved someone to do for him when he was her age. He even has Nie Huaisang’s console repaired so she can play on it, instead of selling it as he’d intended.

The video games are a big hit with her. She’s particularly in love with the same game Nie Huaisang spent too many hours on, that weird little terraforming thing which Meng Yao can’t see the appeal of. He liked that it made Nie Huaisang happy. He likes that it also makes Beastie happy, and that she’s very careful not to ruin the work previously put into it, focused instead on maintaining it and planting flowers

“It looks like home,” she explains when Meng Yao asks about that, and lifts the console for him to see.

It doesn’t look like a homely place, he thinks, and more like a military fortress right out of a wuxia drama. But Meng Yao doesn’t get to make that remark, because his phone vibrates, demanding his attention. Beastie, sitting crossed legs on some cushion on the floor, goes back to watering virtual flowers, while Meng Yao checks some news from his bank account. A lump sum has been sent to him, a good deal more than his usual salary, coming from an account registered under a name he doesn’t recognise.

It has been a week since he was fired.

Nie Huaisang kept his promise.

It really is over.

Not that Meng Yao really doubted it. Nie Huaisang has many faults but indecision has never been one, though he’s always been good at pretending otherwise. Once his choice is made he toys with expectations but rarely ever changes his mind.

Rarely, of course, isn’t never. Meng Yao, foolishly, hoped to be one of those few exceptions. 

Those new zeroes on his bank account feel like a divorce, and he never even got a honeymoon. 

That night, Meng Yao allows himself a few hours to wallow in misery, after Beastie went back to her mother. He is only human, and it does feel good to eat take-away in front of a cheesy romance. The film's hero doesn't get the girl, who was dead all along. Meng Yao cries, even though he's seen that movie before. 

By morning, he's in control again, and takes Beastie to the park so she can run around in the sun, and scare pigeons with her sword.

Those holidays are all great fun, until Beastie’s mother reminds them that she has homework to do.

Beastie is a clever kid, there’s no doubt about it, but she doesn’t much like doing her homework, least of all when she feels she could be playing. It takes all of Meng Yao’s negotiation skills to get her to even look at her school books, and he almost resorts to bribery to make her pick up a pencil. But she works hard once she starts, and Meng Yao, wanting to encourage her, sits with her at the kitchen table to update his resume. Beastie will go back to class soon, and inactivity just isn’t in his temper.

When Beastie is done with her work, she gets permission to put on whatever movie she likes while Meng Yao checks what she’s done in case it needs correcting.

But when he picks up the sheet of simple maths she’s expected to give her teacher on monday, all Meng Yao sees is her name.

It’s really funny. He knows her name of course, though he hasn’t heard it in a while. Even her mother took up to calling her Beastie after he nicknamed her that. It just fits her so well, that active little girl who prefers trousers over dresses because they're easier to move in and always wants to play at fighting. She’s a real little monster, and Meng Yao loves her like that. She’s just Beastie.

But according to the homework she’s spent the afternoon on, she’s also Nie Mingjue.

It could just be a coincidence. Names are funny like that, they pop up in unexpected places, they get forgotten and reused. Perhaps in another life, Meng Yao would have just dismissed it as a random incident.

In another life, he wouldn’t have been called Meng Yao.

It’s the first time this happens since that first life they all shared. He’s Meng Yao again, Lan Xichen bears his old name too, and now he’s found a Nie Mingjue, hiding right under his nose. A Nie Mingjue who likes fighting, and claims that her toy sword is actually a sabre, and who always insists a lot on things being fair, even when Meng Yao tries to give her the biggest share of a food she likes.

It can’t be a coincidence.

Meng Yao needs to tell someone.

He needs to tell Nie Huaisang.

He tries, of course, and without surprise his former employer’s number has been terminated. He has the same luck trying to send an email. Nie Huaisang might as well never have existed. Meng Yao feels helpless, torn between tears and laughter. After spending centuries looking for his brother, Nie Huaisang just might have lost his chance due to being so damn dramatic. Serves him right, Meng Yao thinks, still bitter about being discarded so easily, and never getting a chance to see if things might work better in this life.

Bitterness doesn’t last. Meng Yao cares about Nie Huaisang, more than he should if he were a little smarter, and he knows how important finding his brother again would be for him. And if Nie Huaisang can’t be directly contacted, there’s always indirect ways.

It’s not that Meng Yao misses Lan Xichen, he tells himself that night, when Beastie is back with his mother and he starts writing a long text message on his phone. Well, it’s not just that, anyway. He does miss Lan Xichen, sweet and funny and so eager when talking about art. But more importantly, Lan Xichen probably has access to Lan Wangji, who clearly must know how to contact Nie Huaisang. 

Texting Lan Xichen is a strategic choice. 

The way Meng Yao's heart jumps inside his chest when Lan Xichen immediately replies is… it's strategic too. He's just glad that his plan is working. 

How have you been? :)

I could have been worse. I've just realised something and I think it concerns you. I've told you about that kid I babysit, haven't I? 

Little Beastie? Is she okay? D:

She's Nie Mingjue. 

This time, the answer isn't immediate. Meng Yao stares nervously at his phone, wondering if Lan Xichen thinks he's lying, or planning something. Considering their first life, who could blame him? 

But after a few minutes, his phone vibrates again. 

Sorry, I dropped my phone and couldn't get it back from under the couch. Are you sure?? (⊙ˍ⊙)

It all fits. You could come meet her if you want. But it's him, I'm sure. 

Did you tell Nie Huaisang???

I can't contact him. Are you in touch with Lan Wangji? Maybe he can warn him. 

I have his number, I just texted him! I'll keep you updated! It's so wonderful if it's da-ge!! Can I really meet him? ╰(*°▽°*)╯

Her*?

I'll send you my address. If you can come tomorrow, she'll be there.

Are you sure? I don't think da-ge would still want me around. (≧﹏ ≦)

Meng Yao gives that question the consideration it deserves. It's not an unfair worry to have, and he'd be wondering the same if he hadn't known Beastie for so long. 

I literally killed him, and he killed me. If she had to hate anyone it'd be me, but we get along great. We're no longer the same people we used to be. It's the same for her. 

If you're sure, then I'll come! (❁´w`❁)

-

Meng Yao is very sure indeed. 

So Lan Xichen comes. 

It's odd to invite someone to his flat. It's a small place, a bit messy, full of trinkets and DVDs that Meng Yao would never admit to owning, not with the image he wants to create. He's always avoided guests. But having Lan Xichen over is as rewarding as it is terrifying. Lan Xichen brought some charming little cakes, as if he's visiting someone important, and he smiles at the sight of a movie poster on the wall, confessing he watched it so often as a teenager that the tape broke one day. 

"It's my favourite too!" Beastie exclaims. "Meng-ge has it, you know! Can we watch it now?" 

Normally, Meng Yao would point out that it's a little rude to ask that when they have a guest. But he can see that Lan Xichen is nervous and unsure how to act around Nie Mingjue, and maybe a movie will let them all relax. 

In the end, they spend a pleasant afternoon, the three of them. Once Lan Xichen stops worrying that the Nie Mingjue of old will appear and shout at him for getting him killed, he starts chatting with Beastie about her favourite movies, what she's learning in school, what she wants to be when she grows up. She's very happy to answer, and very impressed when he explains he's a teacher, even though she's finding it hard to accept that most of his students are fully adult.

And when Beastie is back with her mother, Lan Xichen lingers for a while, tempted by the offer of Meng Yao's favourite takeaway.

“It’s amazing how much like him she is,” Lan Xichen says as they sit on the sofa to wait for the food to arrive. “It’s the first time he reincarnates, you know. At least, Wangji told me they’d never found any trace of him before.”

Guilt shoots through Meng Yao. It’s his fault if Nie Mingjue’s soul was so fractured it took him this long to be reborn. Or at least, it’s the fault of someone he was, once, which is nearly the same, and yet completely different. Meng Yao has learned from living and dying several times, and he’s lucky enough to live in a kinder world than Jin Guangyao did. It helps.

“She’s also different from him, though,” Lan Xichen continues, moving just a little closer, until they’re almost touching.

“We’ll, for starters she’s a kid,” Meng Yao points out, wondering if he should take the other man’s hand. If this had happened before the Hanshi, he would have, but he’s not sure where they stand now.

“It’s not just that. In that first life, I knew da-ge as a child too and he was…” Lan Xichen sighs and makes a vague hand gesture. “He was a lot. Way too serious sometimes. We all were, I suppose, but him most of all. The Nie tended to grow fast, to compensate for dying young. I’m… I’m glad that he gets to properly be a child this time. That she gets to be a child.”

“The world has changed,” Meng Yao says, finding the courage at last to brush his fingers against Lan Xichen’s. “Things aren’t always easy but they’re… easier, I suppose.”

Lan Xichen’s returns that touch, gentle and careful as always. This, too, is easier now than it was back then. It’s not easy, but there’s less pressure to conform, less demands to be good dutiful sons, and just a little more space to be their own people, to make their own choices.

Maybe in their next life they’ll meet again and it’ll be even easier to be like this. But even now, Meng Yao is ready to take the chances that his past self wouldn’t have dared to dream of. He leans toward Lan Xichen, hoping to kiss him, but a knock on the door interrupts them and he jumps to his feet to go get their food. The delivery man looks at him a little funny, but makes no comment. If Meng Yao is half as red as Lan Xichen, he deserves those odd looks.

Nothing happens again that night. The moment has passed, and after eating, Lan Xichen has to go home because he has engagements the day after that he can’t cancel.

It's not a date that night, no more than any of their previous encounters were. 

It's not a date then, but next time, when Lan Xichen invites him to a restaurant, Meng Yao is informed in no unclear terms that this is, in fact, a date. They go see a movie after, and Meng Yao gets to kiss one of the two most handsome men in the world.

Life is good. 

Life is really good, and yet Meng Yao wants more. 

In spite of their efforts, Lan Xichen and him can't get in touch with Nie Huaisang to inform him that his brother has finally reincarnated. Even Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are getting worried. From what they told Lan Xichen they haven't had any contact with him since the day they picked him up at the Hanshi. 

"They say he's done that before," Lan Xichen tells him. "They think he'll return in a decade or two, maybe a little longer. Time is hard for immortals, they lose track easily." 

That's all very well for them, but Meng Yao doesn't have a few decades to waste, and neither does Nie Mingjue. They're not immortals. One bad illness, a reckless driver, just tripping in the stairs, and it's all over until they reincarnate again, and Meng Yao is done with missed chances. 

If he can't directly get in touch with Nie Huaisang, Meng Yao can make a few discreet calls to former buyers, and advise them to get their purchase asserted again, just in case. He makes sure to only contact people who bought legitimate artworks of course. He wants to make a wave, not get in trouble. If Meng Yao knows Nie Huaisang even half as well as he thinks he does, then even in hiding Nie Huaisang will be checking what’s happening in the world of art collectors, and he’ll hear about some of his buyers suddenly becoming fearful of fakes.

It’s a little mean perhaps, when Nie Huaisang is so proud of his counterfeits, but kindness has never been Meng Yao’s greatest quality.

Besides, it works.

One afternoon, when Meng Yao is alone at home, checking a job offer that he’s probably going to reject because he deserves better, there’s a knock on the door. Meng Yao considers ignoring it, but some of his elderly neighbours have been coming to ask for help with their phones or whatever new fancy blender their kids got them to make life easier. Usually, five minutes of easy work means free homemade food for his next meal, which is always a great deal.

When he opens the door, there’s a very old man waiting in the corridor alright, but free food is probably out of the question.

“Well, I’m here,” Nie Huaisang says. “Whatever is going on, it’d better be important.”

[editorialsonlife]

Well

Welp, feeling like doing an update because there's been a lot going on to be honest. its one of those weird dichotomies where every day feels like an eternity and there's so much going on and then you look back and you're like oh, ok its just my brain making it difficult and making things take forever but anyway.

LOCKDOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNNNNN

Lockdown life was good, apart from being thrust into it so suddenly dave left a banana on his desk. Wasn't great to come back to after 5 weeks out of the office - mummified mouldy banana!! Classic. We luckily got our first jab before lockdown started so that was good, and we were reasonably well stocked up on food and were generally a lot healthier this lockdown that last. honestly, there's a level of chill and serenity in lockdown that i just love. the ability to set my own schedule and only work the hours I actually work to get the job done? Amazing. getting 8.5 hours of sleep each night without having to wake to an alarm blaring? AMAZING. getting to go for walks every afternoon? SO FLIPPING GOOD. I love it so much, I really really do. I need this to be my life permanently.

WORK

Work is just ongoing and draining and honestly, coming back to the office was so fucking stressful and it was only one day. Being at home is just the fucking bomb. Pending home decisions, I wanna go contracting I think, but also ideally two part time contracts to have more flexibility? I dunno. You'd think a big 4 would provide variety but it really doesn't and honestly, with Richie leaving, wellington is just a sinking ship. Sean's off on parental leave, Kirstyn is down to four days a week, ben will be gone if he doesn't get promoted (and I don't think he will be tbh). Jack is just muddling along, Nigel wants to swap to consulting as well, Matt's going to be a shit leader in terms of bringing in work so it's just not going to work. and in our wider group it's going to get even more messy with heaps of the analysts leaving and a couple of senior hires too. so I think it's probably time to jump ship in general, pending the home stuff below. Also, coming back after a break again, I'm like, I don't actually like a lot of you? All the people I enjoy here are in other teams and groups, and I'll be sad to leave you all, but like, not enough to stay anyway lol.

Pending the home below, two options are to just going and get a job with a $30k payrise to make up for the maternity leave benefits I'm gunna leave behind when I leave this role - 18 weeks full pay, $100 a week for the first year back and a full year of maternity leave. It's basically 30k post tax which is a bit nuts to walk away from to be honest.

Otherwise the other option is to go contracting. Less security overall but holy shit so much money. If I went in as a project coordinator at the lowest rate to build up a bit of a portfolio I'd need to work 40 weeks of 40 hr weeks and Id basically match my current salary plus the lost family leave benefits and still qualify for govt maternity leave payments. Realistically I could go in as a project manager for $140 an hour ($60 more an hour than the above math) and absolutely smash it at that level as well so ya know, there's a bunch of other info. I like the idea of the flexibility of it and only having 6 months even if its a shitshow and beign able to walk away at the end of it. I really don't want to get a govt job and this is a v govt town which is fine but also, if I can avoid it that would be great. I just know I'm not gunna thrive in that environment.

Need to talk to Dave to get him across the line on the security issue part of that though. I've mostly come a long way in terms of my financial management (thanks YNAB) so I think he'd be ok with it mostly.

So there's a lot to toss up there because......

HOME

We got the reno plans done during lockdown, finally. which was super good. but holy fkn jesus $$$$$$ ++++++++++. The guy is coming around for the final quote on Thursday. We indicatively said $100k total because we're doing kitchen laundry bathroom and toilet. so only the most expensive rooms and when I was talking to him last week he said 'that might cover it' and they're seeing cost escalations of 7-10% a week which is just insane. we're not doing anything structural apart from putting in a cavity slider in the bathroom, and the quote they'll give us won't include flooring since they won't do it.

Meanwhile, the prefab homes I were looking at for our site were $425k fully done. Like, I'm not going to spend $130K on doing up my 1940s ex state house ya know? That's not good cost benefit ratio.

So depending on what that comes out at on thursday we'll be able to make some plans.

We also want to start trying for kids next year and need these renos done first - I am not having kids and no dishwasher lol.

Also we need bank financing so good to be in a permanent stable job for that application. the good thing is we have so much equity we know we can borrow whatever we need, I just don't want to spend that much money on it because it's fkn ridiculous. and if I'm going on maternity leave we need to be able to cover it all on dave's salary and whatever benefits I have as well so there;s a lot of financial planning and spreadsheeting going on at the moment lol. it's fab.

either way. we've got plenty of options up our sleeve. we've got friends who's brother owns a building company so we can talk to them, we've got the garage so we can get things prefabricated even if they're not installed til next year, Dave can get shit at cost through his work for whiteware, there;s plenty of things to like cost control we can do, we just need to know where we're starting from basically. thats the challenging part. but we'll figure it out, its just taking longer than I want it to basically.

We also planted up the vege garden for the spring/summer which was lovely, super jazzed about that. we've finally got the garden to a reasonably low maintenance level where everything is mostly under control and it's such a relief, honestly.

PERSONAL

Man what a shift to lockdown last year honestly. I think the last 8 weeks in particular has just been like, a massive reality check of how absolutely shit the last year was and how fucking glad I am to be rid of it. I spent a week absolutely spiralling 2 weeks ago now and honestly, I don't know how I lived in the state for more than a year. I actually don't know how I did it. and I could not be more glad that I'm finally on the other side of it, for the most part. There's still a bunch of other stuff to work through (hahahahahaha when is there not like damn) but fucking hell its nice to just not be anxious and nauseous and wound up constantly. life is actually accessible. miracle.

My workmate had his bebe - I went round and got newborn cuddles and was like, oh, is this what it is to be clucky? this is odd. so there's that as well. I think we'll probably start trying next year pending renos and jobs etc. If the renos can be done in jan I'll prob just stick it at the job to get the benefits but I dunno. it's a tough call to make really. we shall see. This all assumes we get knocked up without any issues which is questionable these days. I really want to feel healthier before getting pregnant as well, and part of that is losing weight. however, given discussing that is what triggered the spiral we're working on that one slowly.

Also, lets have a moment for counselling, because fkn bless anne and all her hard work honestly. I actually ended up emailing her being like, I;m losing my shit on the monday and then talked to her on thursday. And its so funny because it's such a counselling thing but I didn't realise until afterwards what she'd done but she was like you're clearly not doing well and then the night before dave got a fkn miserable migraine and he was up for like, 2 hrs powerchucking except he didn't make it to the bathroom in time so guess who was cleaning up vomit at 130am trying not to chuck herself but I digress. anyway, not doing well, couldn't even explain why, didn't even have words and super tired and she's like, what lynaire up to this week how's she going with izzy and chat about that and then be like how are you feeling about your body and then 5 more mins of chat about the cat and the chickens and then like bam hard question and then hows it going with x and y and z and its like, it wasn't til I was on my walk afterwards when I FINALLY started feeling marginally better I was like damn woman work your magic for figuring it out for me and helping me reregulate. all over the phone as well since we were still in lockdown. GREAT WORK FRIEND.

and then last week was like totally fucked theoretical discussion about religion and the role it's played in my life and fate vs free will and all this nutty shit but genuinely just a great discussion. She's the best and I love her. thank good for good counsellors. thank god I can afford to pay for it honestly.

Dave and I are just chugging along, god bless that man. I love him. its amazing. I miss having friends close by but understand why they had to move (boooooo f u house prices). Family is pretty chill, still not really talking to dave's parents which is nightmarish but we'll deal with that when we need to. gunna have to go and visit them at some point coz dave misses them and I feel for him, I really do. It's the whole boundaries renegotiation I went through with my family last year post wedding blow up and its just not a fun place to be. oh well. can't fix it for him but also I'm not putting up with that level of BS from either of our families once we have children. not gunna happen.

Either way, life is busy and full and fun and I'm enjoying it. Daylight savings starts this weekend too, its october next week WTF and I'm just waiting for 4pm to find out what's gunna happen to our girls trip. Clearly we cancelled our sept trip to christchurch and akaroa and hanmer springs so my covid travel curse continues. fkn ridic. Still dunno what we're gunna do with $2500 of flight credits coz if we get knocked up theres def no international trips happening any time soon.

thus concludes the almost 2000 word write up of life. hope you've enjoyed it. I'll throw up some pics in a separate post if people care about reno plans. such a good time!

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Exploring the Land of Sweets

It's a strange feeling, being cut off from the outside world. When I said I wondered what it's like to live under a rock, I didn't mean it in a literal sense. At least in this case it was a good thing that the Land of Sweets is actually under a rock - the whole city's practically underground. I'd hate to imagine the full extent of the damage done by the thundering storm if we were above ground.

I haven't been able to see much of the destruction itself other than a bunch of fallen trees around the area. Electricity, phone, and wifi were all down so that was interesting. I'll admit it's frustrating being without all three but we managed to live with it for the time being. Honestly, I'm surprised that I survived!

I think the biggest problem for me is not having wifi. Because of that and phone lines were down, we had no way of communicating. Texts weren't getting sent or received and calls were breaking up. If we had to follow the news closely in case of emergencies, we'd be screwed!

As for electricity, well, a lot of things rely on that - like pretty much everything from cooking, cleaning, lights - so we had to make do. At least in a place like the Land of Sweets - the candy capital of the world! - there's still stuff to do that don't rely on electricity. It'll take a lot of work, but it's worth it and it'll keep us busy.

On the first morning without power, we went cacao picking. I've never seen a cacao bean before, nor harvested them, so that was fun! Daisy Jane, Lolly, and I made a little game of who can pick the most beans. To our surprise we managed to pick out good beans! Then after that we took the fruit to The Choc-Choc Bar where Brownie taught us how to make chocolate bars. We got to make our own by melting different flavors of chocolate, pouring them into molds, and decorating with toppings. While the chocolate set we decorated our own wrappers and voila! So there went the first half of the day.

From late afternoon to evening we went swimming at the Sweetfish Lake, where we caught dinner to cook over a bonfire. I tried not to use my phone too much since I didn't want to use up my power bank - which was fully charged before the storm thankfully - but in case a call goes through or phone service comes back then I'll know right away. Sadly, aside from a few very delayed texts from concerned friends trying to reach each other, it looked like it'll be a while before things get back up again.

Next day and no word on when electricity or phone will be fixed. Starting to feel a little weird from being cut off from everything. If I were at home I'd probably be going stir crazy. It sucks not being able to check in with my friends and such but I gotta deal with it. At least it's another fun day making more sweets and hiking around the hills.

So on that day we made caramel and fudge from scratch at Sugar Sweets. Like with Choc-Choc, we can't use the usual equipment so we did things the old fashioned way with a fire instead of a stove. In a way it's not too different from cooking over a campfire in the wilderness. I was wondering abut the fridges, then Cinnamon explained that the fridges in the stores have a backup energy source in case of emergencies so they'll keep running for up to a week.

After making a bunch of sweets we went hiking at the cobblestone trail, which was a good way to destress and unwind. Being out on the trail, lost in the flowers and clouds, it really helps you get your mind off things. Of course, I couldn't let go completely so I occasionally checked my phone for any changes - none still. Daisy Jane and I picked flowers - strawberries, berrypetals, lollipoppies, gingeraniums, marzipanies - and a bunch of other rare plants I've never seen before! We saved the strawberries for a later activity and made bouquets and flower crowns with the rest.

Day three and the electricity came back on. Phone service was sporadic so at least we were getting something. Still sucks to be cut off though. But at least we don't have to worry about the fridges anymore. With the leftover flowers from yesterday we made perfume and with the strawberries we put aside, we made shortcakes and pie.

Once the desserts were baked and cooling off we went out to the fields to collect vanilla beans to make fresh cream. The fields are so big, some areas are like a jungle! Like the cacao beans, I've never seen fresh vanilla. I heard that using actual vanilla instead of just the extract is a game changer so I'm looking forward to trying it out on different recipes.

On our way back to Puffy's Pastries, we stopped by Coconut Farm to get milk. Puff and Milky showed us how to milk cows, which takes a lot of muscle. It was also fun getting to know the livestock - I swear Milky has a way of speaking with them that makes it interesting to watch their interactions. Once the milk was ready to go, we headed back to the bakery to make cream for the desserts. And I have to say, the fresh vanilla bean really does make a difference!

Around evening something came through, I went online and was able to refresh my feed. A lot of things wouldn't load but at least there's a signal, even though it's a weak one. No word on when wifi will be back yet but at least we can finally have a glance of the outside world. Feels weird not being able to scroll through social media for a couple days now. Hopefully the world's still standing by the time I get back online.

Day four and Daisy Jane manages to snag an update on the whole wifi situation. In short, phone and wifi should be running no later than Monday - two days from today. Because of the damage from the storm, it's taking a lot longer to get things back up. At least now there's some places that are getting their phone service back so it won't be long until we're able to connect again.

In the meanwhile, Daisy Jane and I have gone for a short hike at Gingerbread Way, a winding trail scattered with colorful lollipoppies. It was a beautiful day, butterflies were fluttering about and the air was fragrant with vanilla sugar. We really needed this - to get lost for a bit and get our minds off things we can't control.

I'll be honest, we couldn't have picked a better time to visit the Land of Sweets. Even when things are iffy and uncertain, there's usually a silver lining. Though I'm looking forward to when this is over so we don't have to keep worrying.

[thessalian]

Thess vs Stressy Job Stuff

My current role is a little ... well, let’s just say I’m not entirely sure what’s going to happen after my one-month trial period. The hours are longer than most jobs, I’m cleaning up the mess of a former practice manager who did nearly no work, my only other colleague doesn’t really know the role that well, and as for the bosses ... well. Put it to you this way:

I’m still not on payroll yet.

I still don’t have a contract yet.

I HAVE BEEN DOING THIS JOB FOR NEARLY TWO WEEKS WITHOUT EITHER OF THESE THINGS.

The first week I ... almost understood. I mean, while no one actually had the sense to say so before I started, consultant and business manager (who are married to each other, incidentally) were on holiday on my first week. So while you’d have thought that Priority One would be to get new girl her paperwork.

Then I found out that my colleague, who’s been in this role a couple of months now, doesn’t have her contract yet either. However, she, at least, is on the payroll. So Monday rolled around and I expected a visit or an email or at least a phone call explaining what steps had been taken ... and nothing.

Tuesday rolled around: still nothing, so I called. He said he was sorry, and said, “This afternoon; tomorrow at the absolute latest”. So Tuesday passed and nothing.

Today came ... and again, nothing. So I called him again because I would really like to be on payroll for the two weeks I worked because IT WOULD MAKE MY LIFE SO MUCH EASIER YOU HAVE NO IDEA. And he knew that, too, because I told him Tuesday. Not to mention that when you actually have decent staff who cleared your backlog in under a week and is managing with no training whatsoever, you probably want to bind them to you with the ties of paperwork and money.

Finally got a text from him a little while before I headed for home, saying, “I will email you contract and payroll-related details tonight”.

I am told that this will actually probably mean 1:30am Thursday.

I have had to chase these people for any kind of solidity to this role I’ve been doing for nearly two weeks, and if they can’t even put me on the payroll in a timely manner, I don’t like to think about how they’ll handle other stuff.

Also, the other place still owes me back pay. Not much back pay, but every little helps. And of course they’re dragging their feet on that one. Which is stupid for an agency to do because that’s their commission they’re not getting.

Everyone wants me to work myself to death but no one wants to pay me. This seems wrong on so many levels it defies belief. Then again, it seems to be the way of the world these days. Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about working for people who are this fucking disorganised and I won’t feel safe until I have my first paycheque in my bank account. And if that has to wait until the end of next month because these jackasses didn’t get around to dealing with getting me paid, I am screwed and they are assholes. Actually, I am doubly screwed because without a contract, what the fuck recourse do I have?

I should never have agreed to start this job before signing paperwork setting some fucking ground rules. I just didn’t know there wasn’t going to be a contract waiting for me when I arrived on Monday, and by then I was basically sucked in. But staying long-term in a situation where the bosses basically ignore your needs to the point of not putting you on payroll? I’m nervous about it.

I don’t need more stress right now. I really don’t. I’ve already had a migraine for days.

[yoongisbbydoll]

ooh omg the wolf of Wall Street au + yoongi? that movie was so chaotically good

kalopsia, (m.)

⇢ pairing ─  min yoongi, reader

⇢ genre ─  wolf of wall street 

⇢ length ─  2,290 words

⇢ warnings ─  witty and vile insults, prostitution, implications of sexual encounters, giving/receiving head

⇢ synopsis ─  Min Yoongi is crazy, the unreachable boss of your law firm who wears glasses for no reasons and pays prostitutes thousands of dollars to strip and fuck him. Everyone under him bows at his feet like a flock of sheep. But you are determined to not let him take advantage of you–even if he’d pay you thousands to do so. 

He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and clears his throat. He doesn’t actually need the glasses, but he always says that theymake him look more sophisticated so he always adorns them during meetings andanything official. But now, you watch him with slight curiosity, because the glasses indicate this could be serious—which monthly reviews never were.

Of course, as Min Yoongi’s secretary, you should know whathe does and when and where, but he usually sings to his own tune and so you sit back and wait for him to need your help—you’re going to be paid a hefty amount at the end of the month either way.

The entire floor is silent, everyone sitting on the edge of their seats, or standing, leaning closer to catch a whisper of what the boss has to say. Everyone worships him like a god, and you would laugh or snort at that if he wasn’t paying you far more than you should be for doing absolutely nothing at your desk every day.

“At the end of a very long week,” Yoongi pauses, smirk lingering under his righteous façade, “that at the end of the month, we have made twenty one point seven million dollars in gross commissions all from pink sheet stock, motherfuckers.” As his courageous, daring side slips through, the whole room starts yelling and shouting, there are workers hugging and shaking hands, but he’s not done yet. “To celebrate, our dear friend Kim Taehyung is going to be shaving his head for thirty thousand dollars.”

Taehyung is standing nervously behind Yoongi, next to you. He pops a few pills quickly then steps up. Jeongguk, his idiotic friend comes up behind him, electric hair clippers in shaking hand. Jeongguk looks as if he’s tweaking and you can already see the blood you’re probably going to have to clean up.

The room is loud, ringing in your ears as people cheer Taehyung on. He grins and winks at Jeongguk who quickly grabs the back of his neck and swings the clippers down maniacally. You close your eyes as the clippers come down and the whole room, as if possible, gets even louder.

Yoongi is clapping in the mic and suddenly there’s the loud blare of music. “Send in the strippers.” Yoongi yells, turning to the entrance.

A variety of topless, and some bottomless, women flood the sales floor. Everything is a mess, papers are being shredded under feet, there’s women and men screaming, grinding, groping. You should be used to this Friday afternoon craziness but it never ceases to amaze you how crazy everything gets.

Yoongi stares at the beautiful disaster that he calls his company and smiles—that crazy bastard actually smiles. You want to cry from the smell of cigarettes, which is most likely a fire hazard around so much paper, and alcohol and somewhere mixed in between is probably the smell of sex and feces and vomit.

The strippers and a few of the newest interns have snuck off to one of the conference rooms but in their cocaine and Viagra high they’ve forgot the conference rooms are all glass and a group of the older brokers are watching and cheering them on as they fuck against the table. Do they not know they’re going to have to sit at that table later? Was everyone in the room born without consciousness?

You’re still standing at the front, watching as things simmer down but still remain a raucous mess. You can’t leave until the cleaning crew comes and they’re probably not going to be around for another two or three hours—they like to wait a long time so that everyone can clear out, too many run ins with people having after-party-half-drunk sex, you suppose.

Yoongi grabs your elbow and leans in, speaking obnoxiously over the yelling. “You’re only judging because you’re not a part of it, baby.”

“I’m not going to rip off my top and dance around naked, if that’s what you mean.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back, wondering when an appropriate time to go back to your desk would be. You kind of left a game of solitaire open and would like to get back to it before someone tries to hide under the front desk to fuck.

Yoongi chucked, gruff voice tingling in your ear. “I wouldn’t mind the sight.” His fingers skin the buttons of your blouse and you step back. You feel repulsed.

“I’ll be at my desk.”

Yoongi is the type to talk you up, just to fuck you for a few seconds then dip. You’d seen enough girls running from his office, half naked, high heels in their hands and smudged mascara on their cheeks to know to stay away from that whirlwind. That’s what he was, he would just take you in then spit you back out and you’d rather not risk your career because you’ll be the only one losing in the end.

He doesn’t chase you. Why would he when there’s a room full of women who are being paid to try to get into his pants?

The next Monday, just before the brokers on the floor pick up their phones and dial like hell, you call a meeting with Yoongi and his select few. You stand at the front of the table, feeling as if you’re in Yoongi’s place for a quick moment before Taehyung scratches the back of his bald, patchy head and raises his hand like a child. “What?”

“Can I pee?” He mumbles, looking down at the table.

“Oh my god, are you a fucking child? If you had to piss you should have gone before, you knew you had to come to this before you even woke up you imbecile. Hold it.” Taehyung groans and drops his head to the table with a thud. “Taehyung, this is fucking mahogany!” You screech, slapping your hand over your mouth.

Yoongi looks smug, hands folded under his chin as he sits on the opposite end of the table. He’s known these men for more than half of his life and their own, so he enjoys seeing others scramble to control them. He’s the only one they’ll really listen to.

He clears his throat and Taehyung shoots up. “Please, head off the mahogany. Also, please, put on a fucking hat, I can’t take you seriously like this, you dickhead.”  

You clap your hands together. “Okay. So does anyone have anything to say before I go over the bank statement for the month?” Everyone turns to Yoongi who only stares at you contently. “Okay, fine. Then what in the fuck is this charge of forty thousand dollars to—god help me—BJ’s Entertainment?”

Hoseok is the first to break the silence, his loud cackle letting loose and then everyone is joining in, even Yoongi. “Entertainment.”

“This entertainment should be fucking bleaching, eating, and kissing my ass if it’s worth forty grand. Yoongi this is unacceptable.” You feel tired even though it’s the beginning of the week and you slept most of the weekend, but being in a room with seven douchebagguettes will do that to you.

Namjoon is covering his face to try and hold in his snickering but the rest are crying their eyes out, slapping the fucking mahogany as if the table isn’t worth half their paychecks.

“Can you ratbags shut up?” You yell, throwing the bank statement onto the table. As it slides across the table, they all silence and Yoongi catches the papers. “We need to set a limit on these things. No more fucking fifty thousand dollar dinners unless you’re meeting with the president and for God’s sake, use a fucking hooker company with a better name, and next time, no more than five thousand on entertainment or I will personally rip off your cock and shove it down your throat. Thank you.”

You sigh and fall into the chair, holding your head in your hands.

“Guys, leave.” Yoongi sighs and stacks the papers neatly.

You can hear a few more snickers as everyone leaves and then the door slams behind them and Yoongi’s hand is on your shoulder. “Do you need to take a break? The private jet isn’t booked at all this week so feel free to take it wherever you please.”

You know he means well—he always does—but you’re just so tiresome. It’s been weeks since you’ve gotten a good nights rest because most of the time you’re at the office late or have taken home numerous files that need to be reviewed. You always tell yourself sleep is for the weak as you drink your Red Bull through the straw and flip to the next bond, checking and double and triple checking everything. Any mistakes that the brokers or their assistants missed would not come down on them or even you, but instead Yoongi. It’s your job to make sure nothing bad comes back to Yoongi and everything is in the right place and looks legitimate, but it’s so time consuming and tedious do every single day of the week.

“Please, just give me a moment.” You sigh, shaking your head, keeping your eyes closed.

“I mean it, take the jet anywhere. I heard Paris is beautiful this time of year. You ever been?” Yoongi sinks down to a squat in front of you which you find odd but don’t want to question it.

You put your head on the mahogany, too annoyed and sleepy to care anymore. “I want to quit.” You admit. “Wait. That’s a lie. I want my job.”

“You’re the only secretary I’ve ever had, I think it’s going to take a lot more to get rid of you.”

“That’s reassuring,” you grumble, trying to will him away.

It’s too early to deal with his manipulative mind games. You’re going to need a shot and a can of Red Bull before you can tackle the rest of the day.

“You don’t seem to believe me.” Yoongi’s hand slips down to the arm of the chair, right next to where you rest your elbow. “Why don’t you let me convince you?”

His tone is alluring and you don’t want to give in. You’re not trying to play hard-to-get, you just don’t want to get wrapped up too tightly in his lifestyle, you like having your own space away from this job. But you can feel heat rising in your stomach up to your throat and your eyes sting even though they’re closed.

“No, I think you’re giving me an allergic reaction.” You nudge his hand with your elbow, “Get out.”

Yoongi grabs the arm of the chair and spins you towards him, your knees hit his chest. “I think I can make a pretty strong case.”

You don’t want to feel like this, you don’t want to feel like this, you don’t want to feel like this. But there’s just something about Yoongi—possibly his untouchable aura or his cologne that assaults all of your senses or the way his hair is perfectly messy—that makes your toes curl and your legs numb. He’s like the pretty boy at school everyone fawns over and wants to be friends with, but he just brushes them off so casually that it keeps them coming back for more. He’s like the sweet scent a Venus Fly Trap gives off to attract insects, attacking only when he knows he’s caught a live one.

And now he’s got you.

You surrender under him as his hands slide up your thigh, pushing your pencil skirt higher and higher until his finger tips are skimming your panties. His eyes don’t look away from yours as he pushes your skirt all the way up over your hips. You spread your legs and Yoongi dips his head down between your thighs and bites down on the bared flesh.

His hands sneakily dipped into your panties and he roughly pulled you to the edge of the chair. His hair tickles your skin and you hold back a squeal, leaning your head back and biting on your bottom lip. “Can I eat you out?”

“Yes, please, God.” You tangle your fingers in his hair and nod vigorously.

Yoongi hums and rips your panties swiftly, the torn silk makes its way to the floor. You barely have time to be enraged that your undergarments are not ruined before Yoongi flattens his tongue against your cunt. His hand slips between your legs and his knuckle circles your clit, mixing beautifully with his tongue slipping in and out of your heat.

His switches within seconds and one of his slim fingers is curling inside of you as his lips wrap around the sensitive skin of your clit. Yoongi moves with a practiced skill, eliciting moans from each insinuation of his fingers and tongue against you. You let out soft, dulcet breathes as Yoongi continues his assault. Your hips instinctively rut against his face, begging for more, more pressure against all of your sweet spots.

Yoongi is more than eager to give it all to you, putting every effort into getting you off. He adds a second finger and starts scissoring and twisting them in your heat. His tongue works faster and presses harder against your clit.

You kick off your shoes and hitch one of them up on the mahogany desk and your toes curl as your climax peaks. The muscles in your thighs tense and you arch your back, digging your fingers into Yoongi’s hair and trapping him between your legs as you unravel beneath him.

When your breath returns, Yoongi pulls back and stands, holding his hand out and grinning mischievously, “Did I convince you?”

note : Thank you for reading! Find more from me, July, here. 

[gaiatheorist]

Desperate measures.

(I’m not quite ‘in desperate times’, but the anxiety about how much longer I can live in this limbo-state is building. Standard suicide-disclaimer, life right now isn’t peachy, but there’s no opt-out ideation or intent, I need to be out of this state, not ‘out’ altogether.)

This pivots around the Council Tax forms, and has just had another layer of maudlin “I was trying to change for the better.” chucked on the top by my Facebook ‘on this day’ thing. However-many years ago, I was celebrating the fact that the ex was no longer working 13-hour days, meaning I didn’t have to get up at daft o’clock to sort out his sandwiches, wake him up, and get him out of the house on time. Like his Mother. Which I wasn’t, her brain haemorrhage killed her. I survived one, and then had elective surgery to reduce the risk of another. At the same time as I was having elective brain surgery, leaving the hospital just over a day later, and not taking any time off work to recuperate, because I’d scheduled the surgery during a school holiday, I was also kicking out the ex, and trying to figure out where I fitted within certain systems at work. Oh, and supporting the kid through his A-levels and Uni-selection traumas, after I’d almost died the previous year. That was all ‘on me’, much as this situation, now is. I’m meeting my job-coach again this morning, and I’m fairly certain that her systems will flag up that I haven’t been sent on a ‘group activity’ for a while. Some of the people who were in the first group I attended will have found work by now, either sheer desperation at being unable to live on the Universal Credit, or just being easier to place than I am.

The desperation is real, the UC system isn’t fully embedded-and-functional yet, single people with no dependants are being used as the test-cohort. (I’ll leave out the fact that I’m feeding and accommodating the kid Monday-Friday, that he leaves lights on, doesn’t close doors and such. I’m paying for him, but, at 19, he’s not classed as a ‘child’, because he miraculously passed his A-levels in spite of everything, and managed to get into Uni, rather than having to re-sit.) I’ve read enough horror-stories about ‘sanctions’ to know that this benefit/welfare/social security isn’t secure at all, I don’t want to be ‘on benefits’, it’s terrifying. The buffer-zone in my bank account won’t last long, and the Universal Credit payments alone won’t cover my outgoings when I run out of ‘my’ money. 

To that end, when a letter came through from the Council Tax, two months into my ‘claim’ for UC, and four months after my last employment ended, saying I might be eligible for a further discount, I emailed, and asked for the forms. (Emailing is easier than phoning, I don’t want “Oh, poor you!” on the phone, the disability and unemployment are just things that happened, I don’t have the patience, or emotional reserves to deal with other people’s reactions to the unfolding horror-story of me.) A week after I’d emailed, I still hadn’t had the forms, so I emailed again, and then resorted to phoning. “Oh, we posted the forms, but I can email them to you if you still haven’t had them?” (I asked you to email them in the first place, you Noddy, it saves you printing and postage costs.) I filled in the forms, and presented myself at the local office. 

“Oh, I think these are the wrong forms.” The girl behind the counter said, and continued to process them, instead of, you know, printing off the right forms, or anything revolutionary like that. “I’ll have them processed, you should get a letter confirming the amount of any discount.”

I didn’t get a letter confirming a discount, I got a new set of forms. Even more pages than the last one, and boxes to detail how much money I had in current/savings/investment accounts. That’s easy, I only have one bank account, and I knew what was in it, to the penny. Now, two things concerned me about the forms. There’s the standard line that “discount will only be applied from the Monday after receipt of forms and evidence”, when I wasn’t advised I could even apply for it until two months into my unemployment claim. More concerning than that cheeky little ‘efficiency measure’ is the fact that they assess your assets, and use that as part of the decision making process. I get it completely, if I was in receipt of pensions, dividends, rents, or was sitting on a huge pile of savings, I wouldn’t ‘need’ to apply for a discount. I’d applied for the discount to eke out what’s left in my bank account, to take action before I started actually missing payments. The Council Tax are buggers for immediate county court and private bailiff action, I don’t need those sort of complications in my life, it’s tangled enough as it is.

I’m at an impasse, here, I’m massively qualified, but in a highly specialised niche, and jobs ‘in’ that niche don’t come up very often. I am casting-wider, and looking at how my skills could be transferable to other working environments, but, after a ‘not’-nervous-breakdown, I need to be exceptionally careful with myself. I burned out, and I won’t risk doing that again, it’s not safe for me, and it’s not fair for some future-employer if I get a foot in the door, and then go off sick. There’s the issue of work-life balance, which loops into my Fakebook whining from years ago. Back then, in the dark days I had no life. I’m not saying I ‘deserve’ spa-parties, and new clothes every month, Christ, I haven’t even had a hair-cut in years, I don’t ‘do’ pamper-me stuff. I have extensive skills and multiple qualifications, I’m intelligent, and ‘see’ things other people miss, which doesn’t always work in my favour, but is still a highly transferable ‘talent.’

Yesterday, I made enquiries about an admin vacancy at a Young Women’s housing project. “Should be able to deal with young women exhibiting challenging behaviours.”, not everyone can do that, I can, but the post was 2 hours from home via public transport, and the hours would mean me working every afternoon/evening, I can’t commit to that, because of my stupid sleep-pattern. In an ideal world, I’d be looking for something with Tuesday and Thursday afternoons off, to ‘break’ the week. Hell, I’d be willing to work weekend mornings to make-back the hours, I’m not being unreasonable, I’m just a bit disabled.

No word on the PIP-assessment yet, four weeks into the 4-8 week timeline, catastrophising head suspects they might ‘lose’ my forms, and I was too fatigued after filling them in, and photocopying reams of medical evidence to take a copy. I remember what I wrote, because it’s my life, my disability, but there’s the potential that, if they make me do it again, there could be inconsistencies, no two days are the same-sludge when you have brain injuries, and a pesky inoperable aneurysm lurking in your brain.

I’m not desperate-enough yet to do anything to compromise my professionalism. (Stop laughing, swearing and poking fun at politicians only bars me from ‘some’ career-paths, not all of them.) I need to find work soon, not least because spending all day in the house with the kid will send both of us mental. Off out to the job-coach again this morning, where she’ll tick her boxes, she’s stopped even looking at my time-sheet, which I’d taken to leaving ‘amusing’ notes for her on. She’s aware that I’m difficult-to-place, but her acknowledgement of that won’t hold any weight with the systems-and-processes she’s working in, and I’ll either end up with more ‘job-club’, or practice-interviews, or, Gods forbid, ‘work experience’, if I don’t manage to get myself out of this loop soon. Then, onto the Council Tax office again, where they’ll re-process my begging letter, and, most probably claim I ‘can’ stay on my existing rate of Council Tax until I actually run out of money, and start incurring bank charges for missed payments. Then, grocery shopping with the boy, who won’t put anything in the trolley, leading to him making ‘meals’ of stale crackers, because he thinks that helps. It doesn’t, it upsets me that he’s trying to save me money by not eating properly, when all he needs to do is throw what he wants in the trolley, and split the difference from the money his Dad pays him.

I’m desperate to find a job, and I’m too honest to cheat or steal or lie. The myth of the benefit-cheat has led to these convoluted systems, that I’m desperate to be out of. Not desperate enough to apply for jobs that could place me, or others at risk of harm, though.