#from my old employer and that they then would be paying 'part of my sick leave money'?

[writerunblocked]

Bullet Proof Heart: I. The Agreement

Synopsis: After her idiot older brother, a man notoriously bad a counting, accidentally short-changes the Peaky Blinders for who their father pays for protection, Anya Rosenthal finds herself engaged to the much older and the most powerful man in Birmingham. The leader of the gang The Peaky Blinders and her now former employer, Thomas Shelby.

Trope: Arranged marriage trop. I know it's old, but I like it.

TW: Death and dying, antisemitism, drinking, drunkness, and smoking, swearing

WC: 3560

Read Part 2, Out of the Bag, here. Read Part 3: Acceptance here

It was a bleak late August morning in Birmingham, England. The people went about their business, dogs barked, and she could hear children laughing outside. Nothing about this morning could predict the day Anya Rosenthal would have. 

Waking up, getting dressed, and running into the kitchen to greet her mother who had been up for hours, the 22-year-old was greeted by her mother mopping the floors and muttering things in Yiddish under her breath. Looking at her mother’s blotchy face and red eyes, she looked like she’d been crying. She walked over to where her mum kept the liquor, grabbed the bottle of Jameson, walked over to the tea and poured her mother a glass with more Jameson than tea. Placing it down on the table, she walked over to her mother who was muttering in Yiddish ‘no good piece of shit. Marrying her off without my knowledge. I thought he loved her. To him!’ 

“Mame, vas geyt far?” Anya asked. (Mum, what’s going on?) 

Anya's blue eyes met her mother’s blue ones. And Anya could see herself in her mother. The two were practically identical. Both had curly blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that caught the attention of everyone. Anya was said to be the most beautiful woman in all of Birmingham. Except her family was dirt poor. Her father had been hurt during the war and the family of eight had fallen upon hard times. Her brothers had taken up jobs running for gangs while her father had started growing Cannabis, something that was still taking off. 

Her mother stopped mopping and walked over to where the tea cup was. Anya followed. “Antshuldigt mir, Anya,” she whispered while taking a drink of the tea. Anya knew it was extra strong with no milk, just how her mother, and also Anya, liked it.  “Bite visn az ikh keynmol gevalt dos far ir.” (I’m so sorry, Anya. Please know that I never wanted this for you.) 

Anya was now terrified of her mother’s own words. In her 22 years on God’s Earth, she had never seen her mother cry. Her own mother, who’d raised six kids while her husbands and three oldest sons were off at war and raised Anya and her older brother Isaac while simultaneously running the family pot business. Many soldiers would flock to it after they came home from the war, her three oldest brothers and father included. 

But her father was sick, they couldn’t afford to take him to a doctor, and he didn’t have much longer left to live. He struggled to breathe and he struggled to walk. With every laboured breath, the Rosenthal family knew that their father was close to death. Her oldest brother Abraham, better known as ‘Abe’, would take over the business. 

“Vas tut zikh?” Anya asked her mother. (What’s going on.) 

But her mother couldn’t even look her in the eyes. All she kept on saying was ‘sorry’ in Yiddish over and over and over again. She was worried her mother was on the verge of a mental breakdown and she’d have to be whisked away. She was hysterical and that terrified Naomi. Her mother had led the charge for their immigration from Krakow, Poland, to Birmingham, England fleeing the Pograms. Anya was only a little girl but she could remember their neighbours being murdered by the townspeople. They’d packed up and fled to England, the only country that was willing to take them. Her father and brothers would then sign up to fight for the Crown, not knowing if they would come back alive. They all did, but no one knew how or why. They were in the Somme and worked as tunnelers. 

“ANYA!” her father roared. “ANYA ROSENTHAL GET IN HERE!” 

With her mother’s silent sob, she got up and walked to her father’s office. She wondered who was behind the door as she smelt the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and her father only smoked cigarettes when he was meeting with someone. As she opened the door to her father’s office she saw the man sitting at the desk with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whisky in the other. But on the other side of the desk with his back toward the door was a man with a partially shaved head and a familiar cap that she saw every day at work. She nearly wanted to scream, for Anya recognised the man, it was Thomas Shelby, leader of the Peaky Blinders. No wonder why her mum was crying. No wonder why she was inconsolable. This man wanted her for something. And she hoped it wasn’t about last night at the Garrison, where Anya worked as a barmaid. 

“Anya, you’re here,” Mr Shelby said, turning around to greet her. His electric-blue eyes looking into hers. She felt weak in the knees. “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Is everything alright, Mr Shelby?” Anya asked tentatively, taking the only empty seat which was beside him. “Look, about last night, I didn’t know that Connor would try something like that—”  

Mr Shelby cut her off. “What happened with Connor?” 

Fuck. Anya thought. Fuck me in the ass and call me a bitch. “Nothing,” she said. “Nothing at all.” 

“We’ll talk about it later,” Mr Shelby said. “We have other things to discuss.” 

“A raise?” Anya asked hopefully. “Controlling the creepy men? Finding my sanity?” 

“Enough, Anya!” Her father grumbled though he did seem amused with his daughter’s antics. His warm and mischievous smile that he'd given to all six of his children coming through.

“You’re my new fiancée,” Mr Shelby said. “Your father and I made a deal. He got caught up in something and you are unfortunately caught in the middle.” 

And though Mr Shelby seemed saddened by the fact she’d gotten caught up in their business. Anya didn’t know what to do. It felt like everything was falling to pieces around her and all she could do was watch it happen helplessly. Anya had no intention of getting married in the first place and was happily content with being the crazy single Auntie at every Seder who gave sweets to her niece and nephew. She wanted to travel, have fun, and go out. The last thing on her mind was marriage. Anya was pulled out of her thoughts by her mother’s violent sobs from the kitchen. Anya hated how powerless she felt with the whole ordeal. Her youngest getting married, her little girl growing up, and starting a family of her own. People usually married for love, but Anya wasn’t given that choice. 

Anya felt numb, completely and utterly numb. As the world crumbled around her, she wondered if it was possible to melt into the chair. Not even her mother’s sobs could pull her out of this. Sure, she and Mr Shelby did know each other, intimately as they had started sleeping together recently, she didn’t love Mr Shelby. 

Tears staining her blue eyes, she didn’t move, she didn’t say anything. As her world crumbled around her, she wondered if she could turn invisible. She wanted to strangle her father. And Mr Shelby as well. Her father passed her some vodka and she drank from it. “Who’s idea was this?” She whispered. “And what did you do, Dad?” 

“A deal gone wrong,” he sighed. 

“My idea,” Mr Shelby announced. 

Anya rolled her eyes and glared at Mr Shelby, probably a death sentence to anyone else. “Don’t you see enough of me?” She asked. “I’m on your payroll.” 

Before Shelby could respond, Abe barged into the room and nearly lunged at their father. The pure rage that could be seen in his brown eyes was something that startled Anya. “SHE’S NOT A PIECE OF MEAT!” He roared. “SHE’S NOT YOURS TO MARRY OFF!” 

“I’M SECURING HER FUTURE!” Her father roared. “I’LL BE DEAD IN THREE MONTHS!” 

The entire house went cold. Everyone looked at him in shock. “What?” asked Abe. The atmosphere in the house turned cold as everyone processed their father’s statement. 

“When did you find out, David?” asked Mr Shelby. 

“Last month,” he sighed. “I found out last month.” 

Everyone knew that David Rosenthal would die and that he was on borrowed time. They didn’t realise it would be this soon. Her father had been going downhill lately, he struggled going up the stairs, he struggled to breathe, he struggled to even move. Her mother walked in, her eyes stained, her face puffy as she looked at her husband. Anya knew her parents had known each other for their entire lives. They grew up next to each other in Poland, they met the day her mother was born. They got married young and moved to England together with their family fleeing the Pogroms in Poland. She wondered how her mother would handle the death of the man she had no memories of without. Abe would become the head of the family and life would go on like nothing had happened. 

“I have a condition to the marriage,” Anya gulped. All eyes turned her, her mother gasped another sob. “I’ll go through with it if and only if you take care of my mum for the remainder of her life. And my nieces and nephews are put through school.”

Mr Shelby nodded. “That can be arranged,” he said. 

“And I want that in writing,�� she stated. “If not, there’s no deal.” 

"Anya,” whimpered Abe. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Her mother was sobbing violently now, but she’d been crying for so long that no tears had come out. Anya could also see that her mother’s violent sobbing was getting on Mr Shelby’s nerves.  

Mr Shelby got up and looked at her.  “You’re no longer an employee of Shelby Co because you’re my fiancée.” He put his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll pick you up later tonight, Anya.” 

Anya nodded her head, barely being able to look at her now fiancée. “See you later tonight, Mr Shelby.”  

“You’re my fiancée now, there’s no need to call me Mr Shelby,” he said. 

“You later, then, Tommy,” Anya responded in a shaky voice. He walked out of the house. 

Anya got up and also walked out of the house. Grabbing her purse, she walked down the street and made her way to the nearest pub where she took a seat and took a drink. The bartender saw her and laughed. He had a moustache and a darker complexion similar to Abe’s and wore a Star of David, he looked over at her and smiled, “Hi, Naomi, what brings the most beautiful girl in town back?” 

Anya rolled her eyes and scoffed at the comment. The bartender and owner, Sam Lebowitz, had always been a flatter, but he had no interest in her. And when the news got out, no one would dare touch her for fear of the Shelbys.  Sam had been a friend of her dad’s for years and she considered the man an uncle figure in her life. “A pick me up,” Anya admitted. She needed it after the day she had. 

He walked over to her with a shot of Irish whiskey and vodka. He handed them to her. “How’s your dad?” 

She took a deep breath and gulped. “Three months,” she whispered. “It’s getting to him.” 

She could see the horror in Sam’s eyes when he heard that. Sam had been her family’s first friend since they emigrated and also served in WWI. As tears threatened to spill from his chocolate brown eyes, he brushed a piece of black curly hair away from his face. “Are you guys planning on sitting Shiva?” He asked her. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “That’s a thing to ask my mum, she’s been a wreck all day. She’s been sobbing on and off. The poor woman can’t even cry anymore.” 

The atmosphere between the two people turned melancholic. Sam kept on filling her glass and she kept on knocking them back one by one. She didn’t care that she was losing track of time. She just wanted to forget this horrible day. She’d found out that she’d be married off like royalty, she found out her father was going to die in the coming months, and her life would consist of her looking over her shoulder because of who her inlaws were. 

She thought of herself looking out of Arrow House in Warwickshire, being arm candy to Tommy, being at his beck and call. She wiped her eyes from the tears that continued to spill as the alcohol flowed. The whiskey and vodka started tasting like water, but she just continued to drink and drink and drink. She didn’t care. 

The pub turned quiet but she downed another glass. “Another, Sam,” she slurred. “I need another.” 

“That’s all for you for tonight,” he said. “You’ve had more than enough, Anya.” 

“My dad’s dying!” She slurred. 

“And you’ve still had enough. Just because you’re immune to hangovers—” he stopped and then looked straight behind Anya. “Mr Shelby, is everything alright? I paid you yesterday.” 

FUCK. Anya thought. Of course this pub’s under the Blinder’s protection. 

“I just need to speak to Anya for a moment,” Thomas Shelby said grabbing me. 

“Leave the girl alone, Mr Shelby. She’s had a rough day. Her dad’s dying,” he said. 

“I'm only here to help,” he said. “Come on, love, Abe’s worried about you. Your mum’s a wreck. It’s past sundown.” 

“It’s not Friday,” she grumbled. “Ikh viln vodka! SAM, PASS ME THE BOTTLE!” She hollered reaching for the bottle of vodka.

Sam looked at Shelby and then Anya who was looking hungrily at the bottle like it was her mother’s latkes with applesauce. Sam looked at Shelby, then back to Anya, then back to Shelby once again. With one arm on her, Shelby pulled out a tenner and put on the counter, “Here’s for her tab for your best vodka.”  

Her ears perked up as she heard vodka. She reached for the vodka while trying to squirm her way out of Shelby’s arm, but his grip was tight. “I’ll get her home, Mr Shelby,” Sam said pushing the tenner back. “She’ll be safe with me. I’m her uncle and I need to go talk to Chaya.” 

“I can do it, Sam,” Shelby assured with a glance to Anya who was now looking at Sam with a guilty expression.

The two men stared each other down. Sam had to be the bravest man in all of Birmingham or the dumbest. All Anya knew was that this could end badly if she didn’t say something. She was going to lose her father, she couldn’t lose Sam too. “I’m her uncle,” he said. “I’ve known her since she was born, I will take care of her until the morning,” Sam stated again. 

“I can take care of my own fiancée, Sam,” Shelby said. “The engagement was today.” 

The look on Sam’s face was one of pure horror like he’d just gotten the worst news in his life. The horror in his brown eyes, the hurt, the betrayal. “Let me speak to you in your office,” Shelby responded. 

Reluctantly Sam went, and Anya and Shelby followed. Looking around the dark wooden room, the air smelt like stale cigarette smoke and booze, but there was no laughing, no talking, no dancing. Everyone except the three of them that is. 

They followed Sam into his office filled with photos of Anya and her five brothers throughout different life stages. Photos of Sam and her father when they were growing up. And photos of her mother smiling and laughing. The black and white photographs would never be able to capture her mother’s beauty. The beauty that Anya had inherited. The desk was filled with papers and weights, a typewriter sat in the back of the room, and a leather chair where Sam sat. 

Anya was laid on the couch by Shelby, who grabbed a blanket, pillow, and trash for her. “Get some rest, love,” Shelby said. 

“You’re not my mum!” She snarled. The urge to throw up came over her and she puked her guts into the trashcan. She felt sober now. Sam passed her a towel and she whipped her face, he then passed her some water and she drank. She nodded and got up. “I’d prefer to stay with Sam, Mr Shelby. If you don’t mind.”

“Your parents are worried sick,” Shelby stated. “And don’t call me—” 

She cut him off. “Then maybe my father should have thought of that before he sold me to you like I’m royalty. Yes, he’s sick, yes, he’s dying, but I’m still pissed at him for giving my life to you!” 

“I’ll take good care of her, Sam,” he said. “I can provide for her and I’ll be setting aside money for Gal and Noam that will take care of them for the rest of their lives. Chaya will be taken care of after ” 

“Is that what you said when you showed up to David’s place on Tuesday night?” He snarled. “He told me about your meeting. He was so horrified that he couldn’t even speak on the phone. I had to go over there. You’re taking advantage of a dying man, Thomas Shelby.” 

“Sam,” Anya pleaded. “Sam, please. I need you here, I’m losing my dad, I can’t lose my uncle.”  

“I’m not going to do anything to him, Anya,” he assured her. “What do you want with the Rosenthals?” He asked. “It can’t be because Abe saved your life in the trenches.” 

Anya perked up. That was news to her. She knew Shelby was a war hero and so was Abe. Anya knew that her brothers and the Shelby brothers served together, but she didn’t know Abe saved his life. She was young when they’d gone off to war but she remembered it being just her and her mother while the men were off. She remembered her mother praying every night that her boys would return home. God must’ve said ‘yes’ and her brothers and father returned home. She’d been at the ceremony when she was eleven seeing her brother get handed the medal. But he told her that it meant nothing to him, most of his friends hadn’t come back, and he was still haunted by what he’d seen in the Somme and Verdun. She knew Shelby felt the same way about it as well. She knew he did opium to forget in his past. He’d bought it from her father after all. 

“Don’t take advantage of them, Mr Shelby,” he said. “I was already terrified when I found out she was working in your brother’s pub.”  

“I have no interest in hurting her,” he said. “I can provide for her. I know you have money set aside for all of them in the case of your death, but that won’t amount to much. I can provide for her.” 

“How do you know that?” Sam asked shocked. 

“Because I know all the information on everyone who pays for protection from the Peaky Blinders,” he stated. “I know that you care for her, but I can provide for her.” 

“Is that what that Gypsy tongue of yours used on her ailing father?” he asked.

“He’s worried that she’s getting too wild and is in needing of marrying off,” Shelby responded. “Better me than someone else.” 

“The most I do is get drunk,” she sighed. “I don’t go crazy, I don’t do coke.” 

“You once went through half my vodka supply,” Sam said. 

“I haven’t—” 

“That was last week,” he said cutting her off. He turned to Shelby, his eyes now also filled with fear. This was his niece after all. “She’s out of control and you think you’re the one to pull her back?” 

“I’M A HUMAN BEING!” Anya roared tears staining her eyes. Sam passed her another glass of water. “I’m a human being. I’m not to be brought, I’m not a prize to be won, I’m not a piece of land. I’m a human being. A human!” 

Shelby led her back to the couch and put his hand in hers. “You are human, love,” Shelby said. “No one’s saying that!” 

 She jumped up and Shelby got up with her. “THE REST OF MY LIFE WAS SIGNED AWAY!” She hollered. “SIGNED AWAY TO YOU! RIGHT NOW, I’M THE PROPERTY OF MY FATHER, AFTER THE MARRIAGE, I’M YOUR PROPERTY. MY LAST NAME CHANGED, EVERYTHING ABOUT THE ROSENTHALS ERRASED AS I’M JUST KNOWN AS THOMAS SHELBY’S WIFE!” She pushed Shelby away. “Does anybody ever stop to think about me when they’re throwing my life to the wolves?” 

Shelby looked at her and sighed. “I understand where you’re coming from,” he said. “You won’t be cut off from your family.” 

She was shocked at what came out of Shelby’s mouth. He was assuring her that she wouldn’t be cut off from her family. She scoffed, she knew the answer. “You genuinely want this,” she laughed. Anya's laugh wasn’t one filled with humour that people called ‘infectious’. It was filled with shock and disbelief. “Good God, you want to go through with this. What happened, Mr Shelby,  at the Pub that made you want this?” 

“Your father got caught up in some business with the Blinders,” he told her. “You got caught in the crossfires.”

He grabbed Anya and led her out of the Pub. Uncle Sam was reluctant but didn’t object when she sent him a pleading look. And with that, she was on her way to her parents. Her mum was probably worried sick about her. 

[cowboyjen68]

Hi Jen.

I hope you're well. I was hoping you can possibly give me some general life advice?

I have the possibility to finally move away from home and live with a friend I've known for 8 years (I am 26). My homelife is allright and my dad is accepting of my sexuality but mildly transphobic to the point where I'm not out and don't feel comfortable bringing it up.

I have saved up a sum of money (above 5k) to fund this move but the only problem is I don't currently have a steady job. (I've freelanced for the past 3 but it's not enough to cover rent)

We'd be sharing the apartment and to get it I need to be on the lease. The idea of signing for something without steady income to cover it makes the alarm bells go off in my head. Me and my friend have discussed this and she assured me that she would cover the rent completely until I actually move in/find steady employment (her current apartment costs the same). We've also discussed what would happen if she were no longer able to afford the place and the full responsibility would fall on me, but she doesn't see that happening as she has her family to fall back on for that if she was suddenly unfit to work.

Am I right to still be wary? Should I just go along and sign the lease even though I'm really scared of the possible consequences? Should I just stop overthinking this and just enjoy this really good thing that's about to happen??

please let me know what you think

As a parent of several 25 year olds (3) and as a former 26 year old (long ago) I would say it is time to move out and try life as an independent adult. It sounds like you have a decent relationship with your parent(s) so if things went terribly wrong you would have a place to land.

There is never any guaranty in life that a roommate situation or even a living alone rental situation will go smoothly or as planned. It is almost a sure thing you and her will have to navigate some unforeseen incompatibilities or iron out some quirks to make cohabiting comfortable for both of you. It is part of life to learn how to negotiate needs and boundaries with other people. It starts as we become teens with our parents and then, for me, college roommates and then apartment living with 5 gay guys in the very early 90's.

I think you will find that the move to share rental space and responsibility will be mutually beneficial to both of you. It is best to not be financially reliant on each other, basically, with a short grace period to get moved and your feet under you, you should work to pay your fair share. It is a great idea that in the interim while you seek gainful employment you use the extra time to give a little more effort to the household. Extra cleaning, errands, cooking is a way to show you appreciate the short reprieve from being a full financial partner while you get settled.

Having a roommate can mean learning to negotiate what is fair in payment, cleaning, and other responsibilities but it is also nice to have someone around. Having a sound relationship with a roommate means a built in support. She gives you a ride when the bus won't do and you give her gas money. When she wants to travel for a few days you are keeping the house safe, watering plants and bringing in the mail. When one of you is sick the other can pick up some of the cleaning slack until recovery.

When I rented my first place with those 5 men I had just started a new job, fresh from my undergrad and going to grad school. I paid my fair share and contributed by cleaning the kitchen and shoveling the drive during snowy times. When I lost my first job I only had enough money saved for half the rent. I was not instantly homeless because my roommates picked up my share and in turn I did some extra errands and cleaning for the house. I worked VERY hard to get a new job and did after two weeks. I often wanted to quit that flower shop job but did not because I LIKED the independence and I enjoyed not owing anyone anything.

I believe you will find that moving on your own will give you much more drive to find a job with consistent earnings. It feels good to feel stable and be an equal contributor. Having your name on the lease insures you have some skin in the game. It ensures that you ARE accountable to pay your part AND save for future mishaps. If two people are working together to make living more affordable it is a wonderful partnership.

This world is not build for single income independent living. It has not been as long as I have been alive (54 years) and perhaps never has been. Mutually shared space and financial responsibility is a long standing survival tactic. And learning to communicate and navigate in such situations is a beneficial skill.

[festeringneondistraction]

I'm starting my new job for real tomorrow and i'm so anxious.

So after months of unemployment i finally got a job. Well its technically not a job it more like paid community service. Its called Mandy's Farm and its part of the Americorps program, I am serving as a part of the Vamos program. We provide employment services and adult skills training to developmentally disabled people between 14-25 years old. Plenty of other things but I suggest a google to get the full picture.

For context I am 19 years old and have a background in daycare and special needs students, more importantly I am AuDHD and disabled as well. I've come into this field because of a deep desire to help my people and other community members. I crave advocacy, I've always wanted to feel like i'm actually helping people, I want to be in the trenches. So far everyone is super accommodating and nice so i really don't have anything to worry about. I'm just meeting a lot of people in person who have heard a lot about me presumably and that is really anxiety provoking. What about the students? They seem super nice but im still really worried about people not liking me. Plus there are likely disabilities that I have yet to encounter that I will have to adjust to and learn about which isn't a bad thing at all that's fine. But what if I mess up?? What if I get overstimulated and shy?

This is definitely a step up the professional ladder for me which is unnatural. I was prepared to go back to Joann's or worse. I'm still super broke but I can already tell that i'm going to be so much happier. I hope I can get along with everyone, people think i'm knowledgeable which in my opinion is quite a high compliment. Weirdly enough my daycare experience already appears to be more relevant than I thought same thing with my performing arts school background. I hope there are people that I can relate to and that relate to me. Currently i'm just listening to Death cab for Cutie and a Cewpins Vod (highly recommend if you smoke at all!!) because after training I was just totally wiped and got home and did my routine.

We had to go to home depot to get a replacement toilet handle because you gotta love cheap apartments. :)

Get home (BF does the toilet because im wiped out).

Immediately do a hugeeeee afterwork dab.

Chill high as fuck for a bit.

Order food reluctantly.

Wait for than eat the food.

Try to stay up.

Fail.

Pass out in an unnatural position with lights on and everything.

Have random sex because fuck it lol.

Sleep part 2.

Wake up.

Computer at like 1:15 am

Get your stimulation of choice.

Dab again.

Get anxious then hop on tumblr to vent.

So that's pretty much it. Jacob is still asleep. He's still frustrated and depressed understandably so but the difference is that I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and he cant seem to yet, I guess it feels a little closer for me... Things have been really hard lately,,, our guinea pig Boston died a few days ago.. We haven't been able to bury him yet so he's just in our freezer... Which sucks because I don't cook really so I cant use my freezer so like pretty much all my food. I would like to get some closure. He's definitely still haunting me.

My only IRL friend I live near has Covid and her whole family including her 1 year old daughter is sick.. I just got over Covid and it sucks ass. She said she got it from work but its fucking everywhere again where i'm at so who even knows.

I also cant find my goddamn wallet!! I have google pay and everything but i still need my damn wallet!! Im frustrated because this is the seccound important wallet I have not been able to to find and i cant get fucked over again. If any witches have some lost object spells or tips id genuinely appreciate it i'm pretty desperate.

I have a feeling this new job is definitely going to keep me busy, Another huge advantage is when I finish my service I get an education award that can go to past of future collage payments. I could attempt to start collage... god who knows I still cant drive I still can only manage 6th grade math. I wish that I was competent at math i never have been.

I say 6th grade roughly it could be better but it is likely even worse than i think it is. I have serve trauma relating to a math teacher I had in middle school and then highschool. It goes back even farther because you know how undiagnosed learning disabilities are. The school had to intervene because he was my only option for a math class. Long story short I ended up getting a free math credit in 8th grade where during the period id just sit in the deans office and use it as a "study hall". Listened to some great music in that "class" i was often productive but not in the ways that people wanted me to lol.

I'm debating hoping on some Khan academy or something just because i resent math so hard I need to conquer it. Plus if I'm planning on college (which I am) I want to be ready for gen eds. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH my brain is scrambled i just want my ebt card bro. Im outta fooddddd. I miss money, Is it time to talk to rich art school friend?? Is that unethical?? Alan if youre reading this id appreciate whatever is possible <3 ( kidding not kiddingggg)

[jaitropdonglets]

It’s Not a Poor Money Mindset. It’s Autism.

8min read

What is your attitude toward money? If you are young, you might be living check to check, happy to be able to pay bills. If you are retired, you may be freaking out about how you’re going to pay bills without a paycheck.

One of my earliest memories was realizing that I was going to have to work to live. I distinctly remember freaking out inside over this. It didn’t seem fair (and still doesn’t) that I was going to have to be like my dad and leave the family to earn money just so I, and any family I might have, could live.

Seriously. What’s up with that? As I was first realizing I was alive I understood that my life was intimately linked to money. I realized that a significant portion of my waking hours was going to be sacrificed at work just for the privilege of living. How could you put a price on life?

I guess I thought life was free.

Realizing early that I was required to have money was severely disheartening. It didn’t sit well with me and it never has. By the time I was thirteen and got my first job. I have sort of accepted my fate, but I have never been okay with it.

My relationship with money became one of tolerance. I acknowledged that I would trade a certain amount of my time but I wouldn’t like it. I would put in the bare minimum necessary to satisfy this demand, but I would maintain an attitude of conscientious objector.

My attitude about money became more about how to live without it. I wasn’t sure what other people did, but I could tell who had it and who didn’t The people I saw ‘with money’ weren’t all that nice to be around. In a chicken-or-the-egg dichotomy, I don’t know if I dislike wealthy people because of money or if my attitude about money led me to dislike wealth. Either way, I became an ‘it’s not for me’ kind of guy.

I worked throughout high school and part-time during college. Graduate school enabled me to ‘double-up’ by teaching and doing research for a small wage plus tuition waivers. I was lucky in that, for nearly two decades, I was able to work jobs I didn’t hate and only had to do them part-time. I excused this by the fact that I was getting an extreme value. I got three degrees (one terminal) for the cost of one, which compensated for low earnings.

See what I did there?

I never earned a high salary, but I was able to ‘make a living’ on very little and argued that my degrees offset any lack of earnings. Once I started my first ‘real job’, at 34 years old, things would change.

My first ‘real job’ salary for an assistant university professor was $51,000 in 2006 USD. Unfortunately, the daycare expenses for my three daughters were over $30k. Given that one of them was home sick more often than not, and that I was not the breadwinner in the family (my wife earned closer to $100k), I was unable to complete the duties of the tenure track.

None of this made sense to me. Here was my family, literally burning the candle at both ends, with me netting next-to-nothing from my work. I already had a split role as the primary caregiver, making it difficult to do my actual job. It was obvious to me that I would retire and be a stay-at-home dad.

Maybe this was the silent plan all along?

What made sense to me was not cool with my first wife. Through an unspoken course of events that included her affair, we were divorced within three years of my retirement. I was forced to return to the workforce while trying to make sense of my personal life.

For the next decade, I struggled to find meaningful employment. For the sake of my kids, I took several jobs and earned income that would provide for them. I lasted a year or two here and there but just couldn’t stomach the full-time nature of work. Eventually, I met another woman, remarried, and had another daughter.

Guess what? My wife is also a higher earner and I again found my way to full-time parenting.

Now, don’t give me a Parent of the Year award just yet. I don’t love being a stay-at-home dad. I have written several articles about how much I struggle to be a good parent. But not working protects me from my poor money mindset. It also helps perpetuate it.

My inability to equate money with happiness causes a lot of problems. I see money as evil. Maybe a necessary evil, but still evil. I don’t even believe we should own things. My value system has never included money in the way that others measure their worth.

But I also realize I live in a world full of other people who equate monetary value with actual value. My lack of money and earning potential in my role as primary caregiver leaves me feeling very inadequate in ‘other people’s’ terms. Hell, parenting doesn’t even figure into Gross Domestic Product. We don’t value not earning money. Or, perhaps more accurately, we DEvalue not working.

My poor money mindset.

I have heard many times that I simply have a poor attitude about money. I have been told to make money work for me, to be more positive, and even to manifest money in my life. Like talk therapy, these helpful tips don’t help change my mindset.

I am currently dealing with a wealthy person whose son hit my daughter’s car. They didn’t want to involve insurance and assured me they would pay for the damage. I even got three quotes to satisfy their desire for the lowest possible estimate. The actual cost of the repair was about 10% higher than the estimate and now they are refusing to pay. This provides positive feedback to my ‘limiting belief’ that money sucks.

Many people tell me it is my beliefs that are limiting, and I get that. But my beliefs are so strong that, despite decades of trying to change them, I fail. It’s the same thing with therapy. I have identified my limiting beliefs, and put in years of work to change them, but I can’t override my operating system.

And, like this insurance debacle, the world continues to provide evidence supporting my ‘limiting beliefs’. In my mind, denying the evidence instead of something I can’t make myself believe just doesn’t work.

Why can’t I change my mind?

This continuing cycle of failure is exhausting. It’s shameful. Most of the techniques I have tried to employ have been unsuccessful. When we try, repeatedly, and continue to fail it is extremely frustrating. Moreover, it supports my beliefs that I’m not good enough.

My attempts at healing have, in many ways, led me to double down on my original thoughts. That I am broken. Traditional therapies, contemporary wisdom, and social media gurus combine to provide positive reinforcement to my ‘limiting beliefs’. It’s like going to an AA meeting only to be offered alcohol as a solution.

My feelings of shame are so strong that I initially ignored my autism scores. Because neurodivergence is so poorly understood, the self tests do not provide definitive diagnoses — nor should they. Instead of providing a ‘yes or no’ diagnosis, there is a broad range of maybe. If you score very low, it is likely you are not autistic. If you score very high, near the 100% mark, you have a higher probability of being autistic. If you score in the middle? Well, you may or may not be autistic.

So when I first looked at my scores on multiple tests, I interpreted my ‘maybe’ as being ‘normal’ or ‘not autistic’.

After a few sessions with my therapist, and multiple revelations pointing to my potential for neurodivergence, I took the tests again. I was surprised my scores were so similar. This, coupled with things I had discovered about myself in recent months, opened my mind to the idea that I am neurodivergent.

The following months led me to other people like me. Older adults who grew up in a world without awareness and steeped in traditional talk therapy paradigms. People like me, who didn’t adhere to the strict imagery of neurodivergence. People like me who always knew they didn’t fit in, but found no solace in traditional support systems.

Though this is all very recent, viewing my money mindset through a neurodivergent lens doesn’t feel shameful. The idea that I may have an intellectual revulsion to all things money feels acceptable. Accepting myself for how I am rather than trying to force my square-peg self through the round hole of the world is like a breath of fresh air.

And I am aware that my shift from shame to autism could be an excuse but I don’t care. By not blaming myself I am released from the pain of knowing I need to change but being unable to do so. An autism self-diagnosis helps me understand my ‘unusual’ mindset toward money and other elements of being human.

And, sure, I’d love to be able to think about money differently.

I would prefer to have a healthy relationship to earning and spending money. I would love to similarly release myself from having to be frugal and to feel like I don’t deserve to be wealthy. But I’m not going to focus on my inability to meet these societal norms any longer.

Being neurodivergent has made me feel okay about my thoughts and ideas. That these elements of my humanity don’t always agree with societal norms does not make me broken. While I don’t know what this means about my future ability to navigate a world where my value is measured in dollars, I will enter this next phase of my life without the burden of feeling like I have to change.

I wish we could embrace our diversity instead of perpetuating this polarized way of thinking. Everything is a continuum. There is very little black and white. My attitude toward money is not incorrect. Money does change people. Wealthy people often act differently than those who have less. Measuring a human being’s value in dollars is unhealthy.

While it may be more reductive and limiting to focus on the negative aspects of money, it is also important to tell an accurate story. This is just one of the reasons it is important to recognize those of us who are different.

Just because our ideas don’t agree with the overly positive descriptions of reality doesn’t make us wrong.

I write here on Medium and at www.chrisburcher.com. I also host The Neurodivergent Professor podcast and YouTube channel.

[liefst]

it is of the utmost importance to buy yourself fresh luxurious fruit. strawberries, cherries, watermelon, peaches, pineapple, mango... as often as you can afford within reason

[h34rtizuku]

༺♡༻ if ur under 18, dni ✧ luv u tho

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

୨୧ izuku is a pro hero with a 6 year old kid and it’s not mf easy

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ while he’s at work, inko will watch over the child but he feels bad for putting all that burden on her so he decides to hire a nanny

୨୧ you're not too big on kids but you're good with them and that he experiences first hand ~

୨୧ he’s at the store one weekend with kiddo and he’s in the chip aisle looking for which type he wants to get

୨୧ mumbling to himself about which type he’s craving now but what if that craving changes later and he wants a different flavor instead

୨୧ he lets go of the little one’s hand for a split second to get the bag off the shelf and once the grocery is in his arms he turns to his side to grab the little one’s hand once more, only to find him not there

୨୧ he looks up and down the aisle - no kid

୨୧ he goes to the neighboring aisles - not there

୨୧ he goes all around the store, nervously sweating, muttering insults to himself that he lost his only kid - how stupid and unfit of a parent he was

୨୧ until he comes upon an aisle and hears the sniffles of a small child the child took a bit after him when he was a kid, a bit of a crybaby

୨୧ but he sees you

୨୧ calmly reassuring the child, patting his back, telling him to calm down and not to worry that you’ll go look for his father together

୨୧ he doesn’t know why but the sight tugs at his heart, there is something so pure and natural about how you are treating his child

୨୧ but he’s breaking up the sweet moment with a call of his child’s name causing the little boy to turn around and rush into izuku’s large warm arms

୨୧ you’re standing there a little shocked because omg that’s pro hero deku in the mf flesh

୨୧ but you're also happy that the lost boy has been reunited with his father

୨୧ you're about to walk off with a smile when he stops you

୨୧ he thanks you profusely for your help and you’re shyly like ‘it’s no biggie’ with blushed cheeks

୨୧ he asks if he can properly thank you and you’re like dude it’s really no problem

୨୧ he really is thankful but there is also something deep inside him that doesn’t quite want to let you go

୨୧ so he’s like let me buy your groceries and take you out for coffee

୨୧ and you’re about to refuse but you’re a poor college student so getting this weeks groceries for free was one thing

୨୧ but also how are you gonna pass up having coffee with the number one hero and his cute little mini-me ???

୨୧ so yall are at a cute lil cafe where he learns that you're a college student and looking for a partime job over the summer

୨୧ he’s like, you know what, why don’t i hire you as my nanny

୨୧ you’re like i’m not sure, i’m not really a kid person

୨୧ he’s like, i saw you with him, you’ll be just fine - besides he’s a good kid, he just needs someone to watch over him and feed him

୨୧ also i pay really well

୨୧ so you’re like … say less

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ so the first day on the job you arrive at like 8 am, he gave you the code to his door so you just let yourself in

୨୧ you see kiddo at the kitchen table just eating his cheerios or whatever but no sign of izuku

୨୧ so you just go over and take a seat next to the kid and make small talk with him

୨୧ then you hear some shuffling coming from behind you causing you to turn around and investigate

୨୧ lo and behold you see a shirtless izuku with nothing but gray sweatpants hanging low on his wide hips

୨୧ he’s got a towel across his broad shoulders that he’s using to dry the jade curls that haven’t been shaved off as a part of his undercut

୨୧ you follow the droplets of water as they slide down the crevices of his pectorals and abdomen, drifting down his v line and the small tuft of hair leading down from his belly button and melting into the waistline of his pants

୨୧ you’re trying not to salivate at the sight but you also can’t bring yourself to look away just yet wanting to memorize and study the location of every scar and freckle littering his muscular torso

୨୧ he stops drying his hair for a minute and finally sees you like ‘oh great you’re here - how was the trip over here? it wasn’t too hard to find right?’

୨୧ and you’re burning eyes finally tear away from caramel torso and you’re like ‘nope, i found it just fine’ ahaha

୨୧ he gives you a little low down on like, what kid likes to eat, what he doesn’t, what he likes to do, when he goes down for a nap … all that good babysitting stuff

୨୧ after he’s dressed in his hero outfit, he’s kissing his lil nugget goodbye, telling him to treat you nicely, and with several final thank you’s he’s out the door

୨୧ and that’s the start of your job nannying the kid of the number one hero

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ he was right, the kid is a really easy kid

୨୧ he goes down easy for his nap, he’s potty trained, inko raised him like she did izuku so he’s basically the perfect kid, he’s really sweet and will sit down and watch movies with you or he plays really easy by himself playing with his deku, all might, and dynamite action figures

୨୧ and if how easy a job it was, or the smoking hot employer wasn’t enough, the first time you got your paycheck was

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ one day, there was a sudden summer storm that hit right as you reached your stop on the bus

୨୧ you didn’t have an umbrella, forcing you to run to izuku’s house in the pouring rain

୨୧ you show up through the front door and he comes in to greet you only to see you drenched and shivering due to the ac in his home

୨୧ he’s like, “hey y/n how- oh my god, you’re soaked.”

୨୧ and you’re rubbing at your arm awkwardly and trying to create any sort of warmth as you tell him how you got in this mess

୨୧ he’s taking in your soaked form and suddenly his worrying eyes turn into curious ones as he watches a droplet slide from your chin, down your neck, and down your chest to fall between the top alley of your breasts due to the first few buttons of your top being opened

୨୧ the white top you decided today was the perfect day to wear, and without a bra no less

୨୧ but in your shivering and embarrassment you forgot all about that minor detail

୨୧ oh but izuku didn’t forget it

୨୧ he imagined that water droplet sliding down the valley of your breasts underneath your blouse and gliding over your stomach, almost getting lost in your belly button, only to disappear under your waistband

୨୧ he imagined what it would be like to lick the droplets off your hot skin

୨୧ he scanned back up and noticed the tight see-through material of your shirt hugging your tits, dipping into every crevice leaving nothing to the imagination

୨୧ he sees the dark hue of your nipples from behind the cloth, along with the 2 little peaks your buds have made due to the cold air circulating in his house bonus points if you have your nipples pierced, i’m jealous of you

୨୧ he pulls his gaze away when he sees a violent shiver rack your body

୨୧ he leaves for a moment and comes back with a warm towel, almost sad to see the sight of your tits gone but your comfort and warmth was more important to him

୨୧ he tells you to dry off a bit as he goes and gets the shower started for you

୨୧ you’re thanking him yet apologizing for the trouble as you’re gonna make him late for work

୨୧ and he’s denying any negative comments coming out your mouth saying that he technically is at work as helping people is his job and he wouldn’t be a good hero if he didn’t help someone right in front of him

୨୧ he tells you to take as long as you need getting washed up and getting the temperature back in your body

୨୧ he doesn’t have time to think about how you’re just a few feet and a closed bathroom door away from him, naked ~ as he picks out the smallest pieces of clothing he has in his closet

୨୧ he finds an old t-shirt and shorts from his high school days and lays them on his bed telling you through the door that when you’re done he has clothes waiting for you

୨୧ you don’t take too long getting washed up as you know he needs to get to work so only about 10 minutes later you’re walking into the living to izuku sitting on the couch watching the movie his kid wanted to put on

୨୧ he sees you come in from his peripherals as his heart damn near stops seeing you in his clothes

୨୧ the clothes were so small they couldn’t fit him any longer, not after getting a post-high school growth spurt and getting broader due to his hero work

୨୧ but the fact that his already small clothes were swallowing you just did something to him

୨୧ blame it on his size kink he don’t know he has quite yet

୨୧ he pulls himself together to tell you that he threw your soiled clothes in the wash before he says his good byes to his kiddo

୨୧ he’s heading out the door while you and his son are telling him to be safe out there when just as he’s about to leave you call out to him

୨୧ he’s turning around maybe a lil too fast, but he sees you with an umbrella in your hand telling him that you ‘wouldn’t want him to make the same mistake you did’ with a cute bashful smile on your face that almost made him call in sick to work

୨୧ but he knew he couldn’t do that

୨୧ screw being number one hero and all that

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ a few weeks later he comes home from work, tired af as one would

୨୧ but he gets to the door and sees you and his kiddo waiting for him inside

୨୧ you have a cake in your hands and his little one pops one of those little confetti canons at his father with a loud “happy birthday”

୨୧ he’s a lil shocked, a lil surprised, but in a good way

୨୧ he looks at you

୨୧ “well kiddo told me it was your birthday and with a quick little google search i confirmed it to be true. and i felt bad that you had to work on your birthday so we decided to bake you a cake while you were gone and wait for you to get home.” you said softly

୨୧ he had totally forgotten it was his birthday but if it being his birthday meant that he could see you in a little apron waiting for him to come in the door …

୨୧ damn he wished it was his birthday everyday

୨୧ y’all move into the kitchen to start cutting the cake and as you’re plating slices you lean down to the little one and tell him to ‘go get the birthday card he made for daddy’

୨୧ and izuku who wasn’t quite paying attention is like “hmm?” and you just like look at him

୨୧ and he’s like, “oh i thought- you were calling for me-“

୨୧ and you’re like mf, i don’t call you daddy yet

୨୧ but yall just kinda like awkwardly get past it and move on when the child comes running in with his folded construction paper with a green stick figure on the front labeled ‘dad’

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

୨୧ it all leads up to the day about a month later when you arrive at their home to no sign of the kid

୨୧ and you’re like ~ wtf? he always comes to greet me at the door with a hug and he’s not doing that

୨୧ and you’re looking in the kitchen and the living room to see no sign of the child

୨୧ when you’re about to head into his room to see if he somehow decided to sleep in today, izuku comes out his room

୨୧ and you’re like, where’s the kid?

୨୧ and he’s like, oh, i meant to tell you that my mom came by just a few minutes ago and decided to take him out for the day

୨୧ so you’re like, okay, should i just go home then?

୨୧ and he’s like, you could but i just so happen to have the day off and i think it would be nice if we got to spend some time together, without the kid around

୨୧ and you’re like, what am i gonna do ?? say no ?!

୨୧ so y’all go out for coffee, take a walk around the park, and then go out for lunch before going back to his house to watch like a movie or whatever

୨୧ y’all get back home and he sits on the couch scrolling through streaming sites looking for a movie and you’re coming back from the bathroom

୨୧ when you’re walking to the couch, your foot catches one of the kid’s toys that was lying on the floor causing you to trip and stumble forward

୨୧ izuku moves to catch you causing you to fall into his chest and practically on top his lap

୨୧ you’re out of breath from the sudden adrenaline spike but the close proximity between the two of you isn’t making it any easier to catch said breath

୨୧ neither of y’all are moving, just staring into each others eyes as he quietly asks “are you alright?”

୨୧ his warm breath dancing across your face as you give him a light nod

୨୧ his eyes suddenly move to your lips and out of his mouth comes the words you thought you’d never hear

୨୧ “can i kiss you?”

୨୧ and with a split glance to his lips you’re nodding fervently

୨୧ not soon enough his lips are on yours : plump, warm, and soft ~ tasting of the coffee and the mint gum he chewed after lunch

୨୧ you two pull apart reluctantly but he sets his forehead against yours as he catches his breath

୨୧ “please tell me you feel the same way for me as i do for you?” he whispers

୨୧ you bite your lip, “and how do you feel about me?”

୨୧ “like i want to hold you. kiss you. and come home to you everyday. not just as a babysitter.”

୨୧ “is that all?” you ask

୨୧ “i have a few other things i feel about you but i think it’s too early to tell you.”

୨୧ you link your arms around his neck and play with the stubble of emerald that is his undercut, “i wanna know.” you whisper.

୨୧ he’s like, are you sure…. you won’t think it’s inappropriate ?

୨୧ and you reassure him cuz little does he know of the countless nights you laid with your hand between your thighs imagining it was him getting you off

୨୧ “well uh- i-i really wanna fuck you.” he quietly admits

୨୧ you readjust your position to straddle his lap, your legs on either side of his thighs

୨୧ “how?” you ask

୨୧ “how what?” he replies as he tentatively places his hands lightly on your waist

୨୧ “how,” you start, leaning down to ghost your lips atop his, “do you wanna fuck me?”

୨୧ his breath stutters, something about those words coming out of your mouth

୨୧ he’s quiet for longer than you would like, “c’mon tell me” you whine, moving your lips from his mouth, down his jaw, and along his neck

୨୧ his breath quickens, soon letting out a low groan when you stumble upon his sweet spot

୨୧ you pull away causing him to almost whine, “start talking ~ tell me how you wanna fuck me.”

୨୧ “well f-first i wanna kiss all over you. your cheeks. your neck. your hands. i w-wanna feel your warm soft skin under my lips.”

୨୧ he pauses a bit but you urge him to continue

୨୧ “i wanna play with your tits. i wanna suck on your nipples. i’ve wanted to ever since you came in soaked by the rain that day.”

୨୧ as he gets more confident, his voice gets deeper, raspier, laced with lust

୨୧ “i wanna kiss all the way down your body until i reach that sweet pussy of yours, i’ve been dying to get a taste.

୨୧ you let out a low moan into his collar bone, “and then what?”

୨୧ “then after i’ve made you come on my tongue a few times, i wanna stuff you full of my cock. not stopping until i breed you. gave you a baby of your own since you’re so perfect with kiddo already.”

୨୧ “i wanna make you a mommy.”

୨୧ you gasp, your breaths coming out in short hurried puffs as you come up from sucking on his neck

୨୧ “so why don’t you?”

୨୧ he’s frozen

୨୧ “why don’t you fuck your child in me, daddy?”

୨୧ and just like that whatever submissive izuku moment you had going on, is gone

୨୧ he’s on top of you in seconds, squishing you into the couch cushions beneath you as he does just what he said he would do, and then some

yoooooo, happy belated birthday to the actual love of my life. i cried like three times over him yesterday. i hope he’s doing good.

also i’m not gonna sit here & pretend i know anything about how the japanese choose to name their offspring so that’s why kiddo is nameless

[sweetbillwriting]

The Real Deal

Part 3 - A Brazilian Oyster

Description: Bill and Cassandra have been friends a long time and with time realize Cassandra he is her dream but not just him but also his lifestyle.

Characters: AU Single Bill Skarsgård. A version of Bill where he becomes single 2017 and with a different timeline. AU Skarsgårds and others. The rest is my own original characters.

Setting: The story will jump from 2001 until present day.

Warnings: 18+, sex work, smut, masturbation, alcohol, jealousy.

Notes: There is some truth but most of it is imagination.

It wasn't like it came as a surprise. Sure, Bill had spoken loosely about becoming a doctor or studying anthropology at the university but after doing a small role for a big movie and then being the lead in a children's movie it was obvious he had chosen his path. While Bill continued to film movie after movie another twenty year old sat in Brighton unemployed. Cassie was happy for Bill but it was also provoking. She couldn't even afford a new pair of boots while he started to earn serious money. It was even more provoking because his family had a lot of money from the start. Sure they had other problems, his mom sickness and alcoholism, his father's new much younger wife and Gustaf's, his brother's, more and more worrying party behavior. But Cassie had her own problems with unemployment and a mother who barely could support her adult daughter and a teenage son; so Cassie couldn't really see that Bill struggled too. At the same time she grieved that she hadn't been accepted to London College of Fashion while her friends had been accepted to their respective schools. She thought about becoming a hairdresser like her mom but she didn't want to have such little income her mother had. She wanted to do something bigger and more glamorous. Like Bill did. She also wanted to eat at expensive restaurants, live at luxurious hotels and get invited to fabulous parties.

2011, the year Bill got his real break in Sweden. Three expensive projects with him as the lead in all of them and he had several modeling offers. Meanwhile, Cassie ended another short term employment at a nursing home. They hadn't seen each other since 2009 and Bill sounded desperate on the phone. Cassie had mixed feelings with meeting him. He talked about visiting her in England along with his girlfriend. His first love. Karin and Bill had stopped seeing each other just two weeks after the party Cassie had attended. After that he had several short connections to girls but in 2009 he fell in love, for real, as he said. 2009 was also the year Cassie got her first boyfriend and lost her virginity but she couldn't really recognize that sort of love Bill seemed to have to his girlfriend in her own relationship. Her boyfriend broke up after three months having met another girl while Bill continued to be committed to his girlfriend and they were still together in 2011. They seemed to be a golden couple. She had seen all the cute photos of them on Facebook and heard Bill talk affectionately about her. To meet Bill right now felt like asking to feel lousy. She was unemployed, had the same old clothes and was single. Meeting Mr. Actor with a tall, blonde girlfriend wasn't the dream but Cassie couldn't say no to Bill. Especially not when he used his sweet voice and said he would pay for dinner and everything. He was sweet, he was her oldest friend and probably the one friend that cared the most about her.

She met them at their hotel. Of course they were at Café Royal. In the heart of London, with trendy, fresh interior and also cost 800 pounds per night. Bill said it was his father who suggested he must try London's best hotel so he had paid for it. Cassie thought about the talks Stellan had about not spoiling his kids. Maybe he didn't give them money all the time but he sure gave them expensive gifts.

Cassie looked around at the extravagant lobby and felt like she didn't fit in. She looked down at her worn out boots. She could feel that rain water had seeped inside them. She thought about turning around, go home and throw the fucking boots out. Was Bill really worth this humiliation? Just then she heard a pling from the elevator and Bill came out. She hadn't really gotten used to his full height and more masculine body. It was her Bill but at the same time a completely different person. He was dressed in tight gray jeans, a white t-shirt and a black blazer. He looked like a model, really. You could throw such words around sometimes to explain an attractive person but Bill really looked like a model. That sort of model you should take black and with pictures of in a dramatic black coat or a tailored suit. Cassie was so mesmerized by his looks she didn't think about that he was alone. Bill smiled big and she could see how people looked at him, like he was a celebrity they couldn’t remember what they recognized him from. Bill didn't seem to react to it. He walked up to her and gave her a bear hug and kissed her forehead.

"Hej finaste," said he in Swedish. He had said that before so she knew it meant "hey the most beautiful." Cassie smiled and hugged him again. She had missed him so much and couldn't believe that she thought about canceling or even running away.

"Hey handsome. God, every woman in the room is looking at you," she said with a smile and kept her hands inside his jacket around his waist. Bill removed them carefully but she didn't seem to react to it.

"It's because I'm tall," he said and looked around in the lobby. It was then Cassie remembered he had his girlfriend with him but she wasn't with him now.

"Are you alone..?" She questioned and looked behind him toward the elevators like his girlfriend would suddenly show up.

"Yeah. She was tired and thought we could get some alone time. She will join us for dinner. Do you want to have a drink with me here at the hotel?" Bill pointed towards the restaurant. Cassie started to count her money in her head. Bill would pay for the restaurant so she hadn't really thought she would use so much of her own money.

"I’ll pay, of course," he said and smiled knowingly. Cassie felt embarrassed about him paying for everything but she was grateful and she knew Bill hated when people couldn't just accept his generosity.

"Okay," said Cassie and smiled, linking her arm with his.

The bar was luxurious, gold and green with wooden details. It looked like something from a movie. Bill ordered two glasses of champagne while she waited in a velvety chair. She looked around at the people and stopped at Bill. He wasn't at all as fancy dressed as the other guests but something about his aura made it seem as though he were the wealthiest in the room, or at least the most famous one. She could see his boots also were worn out but he didn't seem to care. With a face like that no one was looking at his shoes.

They sat face to face talking about life, nostalgia, music, movies and even fashion. Bill told her about the modeling job for H&M he had been signed to and his dreams about an international acting career. He seemed so content with life. Cassie talked about her dream of studying fashion and becoming a stylist.

"But like, did you just apply to one school?" Said Bill and then gave a wordless message to the bartender that they wanted two more glasses.

"Yeah?"

"You should really search more otherwise you will maybe wait forever. Have you thought about maybe applying in other countries?"

Cassie looked at Bill's wide eyes. He was the only one that really took an interest in her dreams.

"No… Should I do that? Can I do that?" She asked him like he had all the answers in the world.

"Of course you can! Nothing is stopping you. You can even get scholarships. You just have to work for it." He said. Cassie could almost feel how her image of Bill had changed right there. Maybe he hadn't gotten everything in life through his father, maybe he also never let anyone stop him. Cassie smiled and took Bill's hand.

"Could you help me?"

"Sure. But not right now, right now we should drink champagne and eat oysters. The sleeping beauty doesn't eat them anyway. Have you tried it?"

Cassie made a grimace. Everyone she had talked to said it was like a booger with salt water. Bill ordered half a dozen anyway. They had three each and Bill ordered two more glasses of champagne even if Cassie hadn't finished the last.

"Do you know how to eat them?" Bill said, taking an oyster into his big hand, Cassie did the same and watched with big eyes and shook her head.

"Well, some don't remove the whole muscle on the side so you should check that first but this is a fancy place so they have removed it. Then you take the fork…" he watched her take her fork as he did it and then he spinned it around in the shell.

"Just spin so it's loose, it can be stuck at the side. So, these have already a vinaigrette as you see but otherwise you take some lemon. Dad likes the classic way so I have mostly eaten it that way." Cassie smiled at him, a little amused.

"When did you eat this for the first time?" She said. He thought a bit.

"Twelve? You know how dad is, but spin it around in the shell now." He watched her do it. "And then you eat it." Cassie furrowed her brows.

"How?"

"Oh, I just take it as a shot. Some use the fork but I think it's easier to take it as a shot."

Cassie nodded. They ate the oysters at the same time. She was prepared for it to be awful but with the vinaigrette it actually was… Amazing.

"Oh my god!" She said and wiped her mouth with a napkin. Bill looked at her, waited for her to say something more.

"This is delicious!"

Bill laughed, that loud laugh where he threw his head back.

"I knew I could trust you!"

After they had eaten up they sat quietly and just enjoyed the surroundings. Or that was what Cassie thought.

"I think she’s going to break up with me," said Bill, suddenly serious as he looked down into his glass.

"No! Why would she do that?" Said Cassie like it was unbelievable and for her it was. Bill was so handsome, so funny, so loyal, who wouldn't want him?

"She isn't very amused by the whole… Circus around me. She doesn't like that I do sex scenes, she doesn't like the fans, she just want something more simple…" he didn't look up and Cassie could see why, his eyes were shiny of tears.

"I love her so much but I can't be that guy she wants… I don't want to be a doctor and have a villa on Lidingö."

"Maybe she will change her mind?" Said Cassie because she had no idea how to answer. Bill was the perfect guy and she was shocked someone didn't want him.

"We will see…" he sighed and took a deep breath.

×

Bill had been at Cassie's for a week when they had checked in at The Bowery Hotel. Bill's favorite hotel in New York. Cassie loved it too, it was an amazing hotel but it was also a great place to make new contacts and network. It was frequented by celebrities and fashion people, the kind of people that could make Cassie go from stylist assistant to being the stylist herself. It was also amazing to stay with Bill at a hotel, he really just went for it and they could make it really luxurious. Cassie had packed her favorite lingerie sets. Not only because she felt sexier when she wore them under her clothes but also because somewhere deep inside of her she dreamed of letting Bill take them off. While Bill was at a photoshoot she took the time to Skype with Georg Visser. He was in South Africa for business. He worked with wine imports and came from the Netherlands but resided in New York. He was her most reliable customer, her real sugar daddy if you should use the term. She let him watch while she masturbated completely naked in her and Bill's hotel bed. She could see Georg jerk off but most often she looked a bit over the computer or directly into the camera. He was quite handsome but there was someone she rather fantasized about.

She wondered what he liked. Was he vanilla? Did he like it rough? Was he dominant? Did he want her to play with his ass?

She thought him as a submissive, maybe because she had just been with dominant guys. Or it was that mustache role that had made her all hot. She also wanted to put handcuffs on that man, maybe even spank him. He had a nice butt. Small but pert. She wanted to sit on his face and force him to lick while she pulled in his chocolate locks. Use that little pointed nose as a clit stimulator.

"Use the dildo, my dildo." Said Georg suddenly with a strained voice. She had brought it with her, his dildo but also two others. She looked at the dildo, a clone of Georg's manhood. Bill's cock must be so much bigger. This was probably his size without an erection. She let the dildo penetrate her.

"The other hole!" Said Georg suddenly, he almost yelled.

"You know I don't do that." Said Cassie calmly and continued to lay just as exposed in front of the camera.

"Not even with a dildo?"

"No." She started to suck on the dildo while she fingered herself.

Suddenly she heard the door. Bill came back earlier than expected.

"I'm naked!" She shouted in panic right when Bill came in. He turned around quickly but he had seen something. Her legs spread. Her naked chest. The computer... Did she watch porn? He thought to himself and felt his blood travel to his crotch. Hadn't her breast looked really perky but soft? Hadn't he seen the top of her mound? And was that a dildo in her hand?

Cassie ended the call without saying good bye to Georg and hid the dildo behind a pillow. She was still naked and was frozen for a moment. Images of seducing Bill came to mind but also pictures of little Bill, eleven years old. Her best friend.

"Can I turn around? I really need to pee?" Bill said but in reality he was forced to wack off. Pictures of what he had seen but also imaginative ones of what Cassie probably had done while he was outside of the door rolled in his head.

She looked around and then took a white t-shirt of Bill, putting it on and pulling it down over her sex.

"Now," she said but felt her heart beat hard in her chest. He must have seen something. Bill turned around but skillfully covered his crotch with a bag of clothes he and his stylist bought. He smiled a little to her, catching a glimpse of her nipples through the t-shirt and walked in fast to the bathroom. He took the bag with him. Cassie didn't think about it, she just thought about her own humiliation, she didn't even connect the sound of the shower to what Bill had probably seen.

When Bill came out he pretended like nothing had happened and Cassie thought that was a relief. It actually felt like nothing had happened. It wasn't anything they reflected about but they had probably gotten use to hiding their sexual feelings for each other. When Cassie went into the bathroom she texted Georg and told him her friend came in. He understood but he wanted some pictures as compensation. When Bill heard the shower start he laid down in bed in a robe to watch some TV. They had probably fallen asleep with the controller in bed so he started to look after it. Behind Cassie's pillow he found another black device. The dildo. He just sat and stared at it. He didn't want to think filth about Cassie again. He felt like a pervert so he just laid the pillow over it again. When he found the controller he watched an old episode of Modern Family and really tried to forget the black dildo.

Later they got dressed to meet some friends for dinner. They talked relaxed again, suppressed all other feelings. They were just friends again. Cassie had a black short dress on, she knew they were going to a more fancy place then she looked at Bill who just stood in a gray button up with black jeans. He hadn't even tucked in the shirt in his jeans. Sure, he was handsome but she thought he could actually make some effort.

"What?" He said when she looked at him with a skeptical look. He looked down on his outfit and sighed. He would never think twice about going like that to a fancy restaurant but when Cassie gave him that look he always felt the need to please her.

"I know you Swedes don't dress up so much but come on Bill. The restaurant had three Michelin stars. Can't you just tuck the shirt in and put on a jacket?"

He furrowed his brows.

"I don't have a jacket, they take so much space and it always gets wrinkled…"

"Yeah yeah…" said Cassie and started to look through the bag with clothes his stylist selected. She found a pair of black slacks and a matching belt.

"Here," she said and gave it to him. Bill rolled his eyes but changed. Cassie finally looked pleased.

"Classic and lagom relaxed," she said with humor in her voice when she used his mother tongue. Bill just smirked and gave her a forehead kiss then he patted her ass like that was normal behavior between friends, Cassie didn’t react to it either

When they were ready to go Bill's phone rang, it was Andy so he took the call. Cassie felt awkward just standing there looking at him so she took the elevator down to the lobby. When she went out a girl walked in to her. Cassie looked up and saw it was the model, Larissa Ramos, a known Brazilian model.

"Oh hey!" said Cassie happily. Finally she met someone in the fashion industry.

"Hey?" Said Larissa and looked at her confused but she wasn't unpleasant.

"Ehh, I'm Cassie, I was an assistant on that Fenty show you walked last year? I dressed you," said Cassie with blushing cheeks.

"Oh, hi, sorry so many people and faces," said Larissa but Cassie suspected Larissa pretended to recognize her. She had a bit of a Portuguese accent that sounded sexy, even Cassie thought so.

"It's okay. I thought you lived here in New York?"

"No, LA." Larissa smiled a little. She was dressed in a raspberry red pencil dress with a high slit. Her eyes wandered between Cassie and something behind her. Cassie looked over her shoulder and saw Bill coming towards them, looking at his phone. She looked back at Larissa, now fixing her hair and lipgloss. Did she really check Bill out? Of course he was hot but a Brazilian lingerie model? Shouldn't she like more generic guys?

Cassie cleared her throat.

"So who do you work with now?" Said Cassie but felt Bill's presence behind her.

"Hey," said Larissa to Bill.

"Hey, Bill," he said, shaking her hand. He didn't make a big deal of the girl's beauty and Cassie smiled a little to herself.

"Larissa, I recognize you," she said with a flirty undertone. Bill didn't seem to notice that and just smiled friendly.

"I have stayed here before," he just said. He never pointed out that he was an actor.

"Me too," said Larissa and looked up at him. "It's just something about your eyes…" she even bit her underlip now, probably so Bill would understand that she was flirting. Cassie looked between them, Larissa's sexy flirting and Bill lowering his chin, watching her with an almost predatory smile.

"Yeah?" He just said.

"Mm… They are beautiful," Larissa sneaked closer toward Bill. How did Cassie end up in this? And how could Bill get a famous model to compliment him without complimenting her?

Bill smiled and wagged his head from side to side.

"What are you doing tonight,” Larissa asked

"Just meeting some friends for dinner."

Larissa nodded a little and took one more step closer towards Bill.

"My room number is 415 if you feel like… having a drink with me after?"

It was obvious she just meant Bill and it was obvious she wanted that Swedish dick.

Bill smirked, it was also obvious Cassie would spend the night alone.

×

Bill and his girlfriend were just as cute at dinner that Cassie thought they would be, even if Bill believed she would break up with him. Cassie couldn't keep herself from being a little bit annoyed at their behavior but tried to not show it. The girl was great, funny, sweet and chill. Such a girl Cassie could see Bill with. She could understand why he was so in love with her, she could also see it in his face. Cassie thought to herself that Bill just was silly, that the girl would never dump him, that's why she was surprised when three months later they had broken up.

Bill was quiet on the line, waiting for Cassie to say something.

"I'm so sorry Bill. Really, I know you really loved her."

"Yeah, yeah…" he said with a sigh. He had probably cried out all his tears. "But now it's time for another chapter, you know? I want to leave Sweden."

Cassie perked up. Was he thinking about moving to England? She looked around her mother's home. She wanted to be able to offer him a bed to sleep in but the apartment was already too crowded.

"I want to go to L.A. Get a big fat Hollywood career. Nothing should stop me. Just leave this fucking country for something bigger." Bill said, determined.

"Oh… That sounds great Billy, they would be lucky to have you. You are such a talented actor."

She had watched all of his movies several times but when she tried to remember the scenes she just saw snippets. His chest, his ass, his cock, him fucking that girl so hard… Swedish movies really were soft porn.

"Thanks Cassie. I just feel like it's time and I need to get away. Maybe you can join me for a few days there? I will be there for a couple of weeks.

"When will you go?" Said Cassie as she looked at the photo of her and Bill her mother had in the living room.

"In a month. In the beginning of April."

"Okay, maybe, maybe."

×

Cassie didn't want to be annoyed. She wanted to be relaxed and chill and feel a victory for Bill that had finally got laid, and that with a gorgeous model. She knew he hadn't slept with anyone for a long time, he said it was because he didn't have time to try and get a girl but Cassie knew it was for other reasons. Bill wasn't the one night stand type. He mostly slept with girls he had an emotional bond to. Either they were his girlfriends or they were dating seriously. Bill was much more conservative than he gave the impression of being. But Larissa's invite had probably been too inviting. It was so simple for him to just take the elevator one floor up from theirs and find a horny hot girl ready to get a creamy facial from him.

Cassie felt odd when Bill made a stopover in their room to just fix himself; brush his teeth, fix his hair and added some splashes of perfume, too much according to Cassie.

She sat on the bed, watching him. Seeing him also look at the condoms in his wallet, checking the date. Did he really need four?

"You will be okay, right,” Bill asked with a silly smile on his pretty face.

"Yeah, I saw they had a marathon of Modern Family on TV." Cassie said, pulling off her dress infront of Bill. She did it to torment him and to see how he would react. He watched her up and down shamelessly for a few seconds. Black lace over light pink silky fabric. Push up and high cut panties.

"Yeah yeah…" He just said and turned away his eyes. "See you later."

Bill walked out from the room and checked the door with an extra pull making sure it was really locked. Cassie looked after him. Was that all? She was so fucking friendzoned. She watched herself in the mirror. Could she compete with a model? She guessed not by Bill's reaction. She didn't want to think about what Bill would do on the floor over and felt a need for some attention. That's why she called Georg Visser. He answered at once.

"Hello little kitten, did you miss daddy?"

Bill came back in the morning with ruffled hair and his shirt messily buttoned. His steps had a swag in them and he looked more confident. Cassie hadn't gotten up from bed yet. She laid in a burgundy slip with her phone and laptop next to her. She had cam sex with Georg almost the whole night and she was impressed she had been able to dress herself after.

Bill threw himself down on the bed almost on Cassie's laptop.

"Hey! Be careful!" Cassie said annoyed and gave Bill's shoulder a push.

"Sorry," he just smirked and unbuttoned his pants. Cassie looked at him and knew he wanted her to ask about his night but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. She took her laptop and stood up to put it down in her suitcase.

Bill stood up when she didn't ask anything and started to change his clothes. Sweats and a t-shirt. Cassie understood his plan was to spend his day in bed with a thriller series and room service. She looked at his back and sighed. She wanted to know about his night and Bill wouldn't tell if he didn't get the question.

"Spill then," Cassie said and sighed annoyed and sat down in bed with a pillow in her lap.

"I don't need to talk about it if you're not interested," he just said and laid down on his side of the bed. Cassie rolled her eyes.

"I want to know, okay?"

"You don't act like it."

"I want to know," said Cassie and put all of her energy into not sounding annoyed.

"Well… I actually really like her," said Bill and smiled a little. "We’re meeting tonight again. You're okay with that, right?"

Cassie wasn't okay with that, she wanted Bill for herself now when he was in town.

"Sure… But come on Bill, she isn't your type you are just high on sex hormones."

He shook his head.

"We didn't have sex. We were just up all night talking… Or that isn't really true. I went down on her but I don't have any post orgasm hormones."

Cassie was quiet, she could hear her jealous heartbeat in her ears.

"But a lingerie model, what do you even have in common?"

"She's actually studying to become a psychiatrist on the side. And she's really intelligent. She isn't just good tits and a Brazilian ass, you know."

It was typical of Bill to suddenly have a crush on a girl. Either he was so uninterested he didn't even seem to acknowledge the woman as female or he acted like he was in love after a night. Both of his latest girlfriends became his girlfriend way too fast.

Bill didn't seem to be affected by Cassie's negativity and prepared himself for his date with Larissa while Cassie planned a date with Georg who finally was in town. He had bought her something nice and the only thing that could kill the jealousy was the image of Georg's big appartement, jazz, champagne, expensive lingerie and maybe a necklace?

×

Cassie really tried to make it possible to join Bill on his L.A trip but even if he helped her economically she would still get a backlash when she got home and hadn't worked enough. She was forced to say no to him so he went with just a few guy friends instead. But even if she didn't join them and only spoke to Bill on the phone she noticed his changed behavior. He tried too hard to seem okay. He was too happy after just having been dumped. He craved attention and validation in a way she hadn't seen before. The many pictures and updates on Facebook and he even had a TV team film his trip. She could just see a part of it on Facebook and even if he was Bill he was showing a bit too much of his goofy side. Bill had a big intellectual, serious side but that side seemed to be blocked, probably because that side revealed his failed relationship so hard. Maybe he also wanted to show the girl he was okay without her.

Bill talked animatedly about an audition he had been on with Cassie on the phone, shared every detail and made weird voices and accents. Cassie laughed, because he was funny but she was a bit tired of that side of him now, she wanted calm, safe Bill again.

"Bill, I know you don't want to talk about this, but how are you after the break up?" Cassie asked carefully while playing with a hair clip.

"Good," Bill said fast, too fast. "It was probably for the best, you know."

"So, you have processed it then?"

"Yeah. Cassie, It's okay. I have moved on. I even was with another girl here in LA."

Cassie wanted to sigh, it was so obvious he just tried to sweep his emotions under the rug but she didn't know how to tell him that without him shutting out his emotions even more.

"Oh, who was she?" She asked instead like she was curious.

"She wanted to be an actress but to be honest, she sucked." He said with humor in his voice.

"How was the sex?"

Bill made a doubtful sound.

"I don't think one night stands are so fun. You aren't in sync with the other person."

Cassie hummed even if she didn't know. She was never in sync with her boyfriend. It was also obvious that Bill wanted a relationship, he was a boyfriend. He wasn't the type that flirted around and wasn't amused by sleeping with as many girls as possible. He didn't like to be alone and could call Cassie by the only reason that he was alone. Bill wanted someone close, someone familiar that he could show his rich spectra to.

When Cassie had hung up Bill sat alone in the bedroom and looked down at the sheets. A shine could be seen on his eyes but lucky for him no one was in the room to see him so vulnerable. He saved such emotions for his family and his girlfriend. The girlfriend he didn't have anymore. He had only one more person in his life that he felt okay showing such emotions to, Cassie. If he couldn't have his girlfriend he wanted Cassie close. Couldn't she been here so he could have cried against her chest, breathing in that vanilla shower cream she had used for years.

A tear fell from his eye, thinking about his ex but also Cassie. He felt so alone but it would take time for him to let another girl in again.

×

Finaste - The most beautiful. A word you can call anyone you like but most common between partners.

Lidingö - One of Stockholm's many Islands in where many rich people live. Martin in "Behind blue eyes" live on Lidingö but in the working class area while his friends from school live in the rich area.

Lagom - Not too little, not too much. Not the same as "medium" because you decide yourself what's "lagom" for you.

×

[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

[wayfaringmd]

Hi! ADHD ex-grad student here. I got some feedback from a mentor-role person (not my direct mentor, but offered to talk to me about my future) about primary care work. They were saying how primary care has unfortunately evolved over the years to mean more about insurance, 15-min visits, and overscheduling a provider. They recommended primary care at a student health services sort of role so that it's still primary care with possibly less limits bc of insurance and also you can educate young adults, etc. Do you have any other recommendations about what kind of primary care role may be something worth exploring rather than only the outpatient-clinic-at-a-hospital route? (City gal here who is not looking to do private practice)

Honestly, the whole setup of outpatient medicine these days is kind of the worst. It's a BIG part of why I'm leaving my current job. I love taking care of patients, but it's not set up to let us do it well. We are essentially punished for spending time with our patients. I hate it. So here's some other options to explore in primary care.

Option 1: Direct Primary care. The DPC (sometimes called "concierge medicine, though I think that's not exactly the right description) model is probably the best system I've seen to give doctors what we want out of our careers. They still get paid well, it's ultimately cheaper for the patient, and they get ample time with their patients. The downside to it in my mind is that it doesn't help patients who can't afford the monthly fee to be a "member" of the practice.

Note - there are many ways to do DPC - some operate on a strict cash for each office visit or lab system, whereas others charge a base monthly fee that includes unlimited office visits. Some employers have actually found that it was cheaper to "insure" their employees by paying their membership fees to practices like this, so it's a growing field for sure.

Option 2: Academic Medicine. You end up seeing less patients, but the ones you do see tend to be the underserved, which is a draw for folks like me who are social-justice oriented. It pays less, but generally affords more time for educating yourself and your patients with less worries over insurance hassles.

Option 3 would be to be a company doctor for a large employer. These jobs are harder to come by, but your patients would all have the same insurance so there would be less hassle there. I can't guarantee that the push to see higher volumes wouldn't be there though.

Option 4: the VA. Traditionally working in VA clinics has been considered a cushy job for primary care docs because, again, there's no insurance hassles to deal with, and because they typically see low patient volumes. It's probably not ideal if you want to work full-spectrum family medicine, but if you prefer taking care of adults it would be a good option.

Option 5: Prison medicine. It pays extremely well but it's not great. There's no insurance hassle. Instead, there's the hassle of dealing with sick people with limited resources. You can't send people out for CTs or MRIs or stress tests when you want to. There's usually pretty high volume to be seen as well.

Option 6: Nursing Home care. It's longitudinal primary care, but you sort of control your volume. You take however many patients you want and you spend as much time as you want with them. There are requirements about seeing patients monthly and about trial weans off certain medications every so often, but the rules aren't super hard to follow. Nursing home patients also are almost exclusively covered by Medicare or Medicare/Medicaid, so once again the insurance hassles are minimized because you don't have to deal with 25 different companies.

Option 7: House Call doc. This is a revival of old timey medicine. It probably pays less, but the overhead is minimal. You'd see patients in their homes, nursing homes, assisted living facilities, etc and likely charge flat fees rather than going through insurance.

[bush-viper-cutie]

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot:  Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

 ---

~*~*~ = time skip

---

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again.  He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places.  It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

[vergess]

@autismserenity​ said: Your tags are the most American thing I’ve ever read, we are truly so screwed here   

May I interest you in a more complete, and more excruciating, explanation of what I spent the last 18 months doing?

It is, I need to emphasize, fucking nasty. Don’t feel obligated, especiallly if you’ve already had A Day(tm).

There’s a lot of disease, a lot of worker abuse including sexual and racial abuse, a fine portion of letting people die for not being white enough for real medical care, all leading to homelessness.

For NDA reasons, because my former employer was just as vile as any tech company has ever been, I cannot be super specific about who I worked for. However, I can say that we handled the records and patient contact for all COVID testing for several states, as well as 2 of the 5 largest metros in the US, and several dozen smaller ones ranging from the approximate population of San Francisco, down to little towns, as well as the testing for several public school systems and at least two government agencies that I am not at liberty to disclose.

I tell you this for a sense of scale. When I say shit like, “my boss was more than happy to let thousands or hundreds of thousands die” I am not exagerrating for effect. We handled hundreds of thousands of tests a week.

Again, I need to emphasize, government agencies. Ones you would know if I named them. Ones everyone in the country knows.

And we were in charge of getting their test results from the already over swamped labs back to the patients, who often were not allowed to quarantine while awaiting results.

The fastest we got our turnaround time to on any consistent basis was about 30 hours. Often it ballooned well into weeks.

There were a number of factors for this, but the big one was always understaffing.

The staff we did have were treated like trash. One of the big selling points of this company is how “trans friendly” it is to work there. That is a lie. Every trans employee on payroll had their dead name displayed to all other staff, and until I personally changed the system setup on my arrival, patient facing trans people’s dead names were displayed to patients.

Remember that thing about “hundreds of thousands of tests a week”?

I was able to change the way patient-facing names were displayed. I was not allowed or able to alter the way internal systems displayed trans people’s names. But I was assured that it’s fine, because once you get a legal name change, you’ll be given new system accounts with your new name!

Your old accounts with your dead name would still be displayed and associated with the new ones though.

This is the “trans friendly” working environment. We were allowed to be out of the closet, as long as we were willing to put up with that. And any attempts to get it altered were the result of those nasty little transgender ingrates not being thankful enough.

Meaning that by asking to use our own fucking names we were already in the disciplinary shitter.

Another big selling point is the ~racial diversity~. The CEO was a man of colour, and so were like four other people on staff!! Wow!!!!!!!

This, too, was laughable.

Once numbers started coming in about the care gap for COVID between English and Spanish speakers, and our Southwestern US service area began to have a separate and brutal backlog just of Spanish speaking patients, my employer encouraged me to interview potential hires who speak spanish.

Fair enough! We all wanted to do our part to help close the already massive mortality gap.

So, I found candidates, did interviews, hired them, trained them, etc. But I don’t speak Spanish. As a result, I appointed 2 assistant managers who do speak Spanish to assist me in managing, you know, like the job name.

So when my super contacted them directly, completely skipping me on the chain of command, and told them to stop all of our Spanish speakers from translating helpful simple messages to send to patients, and instead start translating medical and legal documents, they very reasonably assumed I was in the know and went ahead with it.

TO BE CLEAR, that could have ended my life, theirs, basically everyone involved. Everyone in the company would have been completely fucked. At that point, my subordinates, the people for whom I am wholly responsible, were doing everything from practicing medicine without licenses, to encouraging spanish speaking patients to enter contracts that no one on the fucking executive tier could even read.

The moment I found that out, I and the A.M.s immediately started trying to get actual medical translation services to do our documents. We collected them in a neat folder. We queried translation services. We got quotes. We contacted my super and the CEO, about this over and over again for months. In the late autumn, we received approval for one of the translation services.

The CEO decided at the last minute that having people with no medical or legal training draft medical and legal forms was fine and good actually, and refused to sign the contract or send the documents for translation.

The excuse I received was that the COVID emergency HIPAA relaxations would protect us.

That’s not how that works.

Throughout all of this, Spanish speaking employees were told to either keep doing medical and legal translation work, or lose their jobs.

Oh, did I mention everyone was working between 30 and 80 hours a week, and all of us were marked as “contractors” so the employer could tax evade? Don’t worry, we filed complaints with the labour bureau.

So the entire department was let go, and “rehired” as temps through a temp agency, which because it was a temp agency could keep them marked as contractors regardless of the facts.

This change was presented to all of us, myself included, as the company getting a new accountant to handle payroll.

So if you’re keeping score, we’ve covered racism, queerphobia, medical negligence, fraud, and a frankly uncountable number of deaths.

Let’s talk about the sheer negligence towards employees ourselves. If you’ve worked in near-death medical care before, or any number of emergency services really, you know that the standard benefit suite includes either a dedicated therapist for your staff, or access to peer support groups with other emergency and medical servants through your employer’s benefits program.

Do you know what our mental health benefits were for this company?

The CEO got on a fucking zoom call with us all one (1) time, and said that if we were feeling suicidal or traumatized by the work, to talk to him about it, and he would be our therapist.

Do you know how many people per fucking day we had to contact only to be told they had already died because our understaffing delays killed them? He doesn’t. He never listened when we told him.

But let me put the cherry on the “Oh baby, you can talk to me, oooh” sundae.

Anyone who “looked” or “sounded” female, regardless of actual or assigned gender, was subject to constant flirtations and slimy, overly personal compliments about our appearances. Fortunately, at 3 levels removed from the CEO (Executives > Department heads > Managers > Employees), most of the people under my management had relatively little contact with him.

I was not nearly so lucky.

The CEO of this company has a watersports (urination) fetish. I know this, because he told me so and attempted to get me to join him in it. I have no idea how many other people in the company he did this to. I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do, risk losing my job to find out? I have a fucking family to support, people.

Not that it mattered.

Eventually, all of these abuses became too much for my subordinates. Productivity fell off a cliff. Delays were getting worse and worse. In a medical emergency like this, delays=deaths.

So, like a fucking idiot, when the department heads reached out to me to ask what they could do to improve productivity, I shot down their frankly insulting suggestion of raffling a $20 amazon gift card to patient facing employees, and instead suggested a very simple, “enroll us with a peer support group, every single person in this department has PTSD from working in this pandemic.”

They were confused by my assertion of PTSD. I was asked to compile a document of complaints, concerns, and weaknesses in our patient facing services.

I and the A.M.s did so. It was roughly 40 pages long, with each page given a known problem, the reasons why it was a problem, and some potential solutions that might inspire further solutions or be able to be implemented. We submitted it. There was no response.

A week passed.

I had been working 80 hour weeks for most of a year. I hadn’t even been able to take weekends. I took my first sick day, in a company with “unlimited vacation days.”

I received a call at 3PM.

I had been fired for “differences in communitcation.” If you’ve ever seen that “Problem Women of Color in the workplace” chart? Yeah.

So had most of my department, including every transgender member of the department, and several of our extremely limited in supply Spanish speakers, who were presumed to be “on my side.”

Some of them, I barely even knew beyond the formalities of the job, and they were punished anyway.

I lost my insurance, and as a result I lost access to my medications.

But the real problem? I lost my house. And not due to lack of payment.

I lost my house, because when I got the job we waited 6 months for stability’s sake, and then readied to move out of the area. I got a mortgage on the basis of my employer’s written guarantee to the bank that I would continue to be employed for the next year at a minimum.

With the mortgage approval in hand, we entered a sales contract on our existing home.

We got and accepted an offer just days before I was fired. To keep our house meant paying a 25,000 dollar broken contract fine. We didn’t have that. We had a 10% down payment for a modest fucking place in a cheaper area, which is less than half that.

But without a job, my mortgage approval was also voided, meaning we couldn’t buy a house either.

All of a sudden, we were homeless during the plague, because my employer wrote and signed a letter to a bank guaranteeing my future employ, and then changed his mind when too many people died due to his own negligence.

Oh yeah, one last thing: the job paid less than Pandemic unemployment Assistance.

...After that, well, it’s homelessness until just last month. I... if you’ve never been homeless it’s.

It blurs. Everything is happening constantly, except for all the ways in which you are endlessly, mind breakingly bored. Bored, overloaded, and always uncomfortable.

Obviously my health would have declined regardless. Malnutrition, stress, everything.

But I was also unmedicated.

It was hell. I was in hell. I don’t know if I can recover from it, to be honest.

I bounced back from being homeless as a child. Children are as resilient as they are stupid, and the monstrosity of homelessness was little more than a vaguely remembered loathing and a panicky fear that it would ever happen again.

A child who is dying is worthy of sympathy, even if it is meaningless coos from passers by. If they have family, they may be able to rely on them too.

An adult with the indignity to die homeless and crippled, according to the average passer by, is worthy only of disgust and perhaps even punishment for being such a worthless waste.

My reward for nearly killing myself in a desperate bid to help stem the tide of COVID was the destruction of not only my life, not only my entire family’s lives, but the lives of every single family of every single employee who worked with me.

And you know what’s worse?

Each one of us still did more to limit the lethal impact of COVID than the entire united states government.

It breaks something in you, going through that.

It makes you realize that hope is a fool’s game.

But, I have ever been a fool, and so, I continue to play.

[rafesgfs]

love me, hate me - part two

Warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Christmas comes around and Ransom wants you more than ever.

part one

"You're telling me you actually want to date this guy? The one who can't even make you cum?" you asked, licking the remaining frosting from your finger. You placed the messy bowl in the sink, watching your best friend trying—and failing—to get the egg shells out of the mixture.

Meg gave up, dumping the brownie batter down the sink with the water running, fed up with the shells. "Yeah, but sex isn't everything, you know. I don't know—it's just this guy isn't like my exes. He genuinely cares about my feelings, and doesn't control me. Besides, he made me cum a few times. He's nice."

With Mariah Carey's Christmas music playing in the background, the miniature Christmas tree on the table, and the snow falling, the Thrombey household felt festive. Although, the people bundled up and arguing in the next room—not so much. Yet, neither of you cared while you continued to work, helping Martha out, on the desserts. It wasn't going as well as planned, but you took it as a positive considering you hadn't started a fire. Yet.

"Ah, yes, nice. Can't relate. I'm currently attracted to assholes who have anger issues." you commented, passing Meg the flour once again. Your creation was in the oven, and all you hoped was that no one got food poisoning because of it. Even you couldn't live with the guilt of Ransom, or his touchy father, throwing up Christmas morning.

"Currently?" Meg asked, raising an eyebrow, getting eggs out of the fridge for the hundredth time. She glanced at the direction of the door, the sound of it opening drawing both of your attention. "I'm pretty sure your daddy issues didn't just happen recently. Speaking of which, you may be the main reason Ransom decided to come back for Christmas instead chasing a model around."

You rolled your eyes, sitting back in your chair while contemplating whether or not it's too late to ditch. While Ransom was hot, his spoiled attitude wasn't worth tolerating for a quick fuck. With sarcasm dripping, you sighed. "Oh, how wonderful. 'Cause, that's exactly what I need right now."

Meg chuckled, focusing on the task at hand, trying not get shells in the mixture again. She had held off on mixing the dry stuff, much to your dismay, but to her it made sense to get the hard part out of the way so it wouldn't fuck everything up. Your best friend had just finished cracking her last egg when Harlan walked into the kitchen, Ransom trailing a few feet behind him. The playboy's eyes immediately landed on you, yet you didn't meet his, too preoccupied with the phone in your hands.

Harlan's slight frown lifted into a smile, surveying how messy the kitchen had gotten. "My, my, I wasn't aware a cake had exploded in my kitchen."

Looking up, you grinned at the old man, the smile reaching your eyes until you saw who was behind him. Ignoring Ransom, you giggled at Harlan's remark. "You call it a mess, we call it baking."

"As long as you ladies are having fun." Harlan replied, patting your shoulder before heading off towards his office, too tired to deal with his dysfunctional family at the moment.

Ransom lingered, walking up to you, a smirk impended on his face. Yet, you refocused you're attention back on your phone while Meg left the room, her apron still attached to her. You didn't question her sudden disappearance, knowing she was just as annoyed at Ransom's presence. The man in question peeked over you shoulder to see your screen showing off another man's dick, the words right below it explicit.

His jaw clenched in jealousy. Much to his chagrin, the man's dick was just as big as his own. But, he kept the icy exterior up. "Would it be offensive to ask whether or not your baking will make me sick this evening?"

You scoffed without looking up, tapping out of the dick pic your previous hook up had sent. "Since when do you care if you're offensive or not? Who are you, and what have you done to Ransom Drysdale?"

Ransom shrugged, leaning against the kitchen island while facing your annoyed expression. His smug behavior got under your skin, and the bastard was well aware. "Maybe all this Christmas spirit got into me. Or maybe I'm trying to be nice."

You raised an eyebrow, getting off your chair, rushing to the window, pretending to be looking for something. After a few seconds, Ransom's curiosity got the best of him and he joined you, looking for anything unusual outside. The snow-covered land showed nothing out of the ordinary, furthering Ransom's confusion.

"What are you looking at? I can't see anything." he said, squinting at the general direction you had look at.

Shrugging, you moved back to your seat, propping your elbows on the back of the chair, allowing a smug smirk lift your lips. "I thought pigs were flying. Ransom Drysdale isn't capable of being nice, yet alone say the word. I'm shocked hell hadn't freeze over. Yet."

The playboy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he took your body in, wrapped in his favorite color, the dress hugging your curves. "What's a guy have to do to be taken seriously with you? You and I both know I can give you everything you want, and more."

"Are you trying to buy me right now?" you asked, half teasing, half annoyed. Ransom could not take a hint, and you hated the fact that he didn't back off despite the sarcasm and insults you threw his way.

"I'm trying to be nice but you're making it really hard." Ransom answered, his cockiness wearing off. He was growing frustrated the more you looked at him like he was a piece of trash. All you wanted him to be was nice, now that he was trying to be, you wouldn't believe his intentions, despite wanting to prove it to you.

Pursing your lips, you tapped your finger against the table, the acrylic nail making a clicking noise. "You wanna prove it? Fine. You've got til midnight tonight. If you're unable to change my mind, you have to buy me my spring break vacation, all the fees and expenses."

"And if I do change your mind..." Ransom smirked, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, earning a half-hearted glare. "... you have to go on a date with me."

Ransom nearly burst out laughing from your shocked expression, the genuine look of surprised slapped on your face with the words. You shut your hanging jaw, still not processing what he was saying. "Excuse me?"

"You have to go on a date with me if I convince you that I'm willing to change my, and I quote, 'bratty and douchebag ways.' An actual date where we sit down, eat dinner, talk about our feelings, and get drunk. Whatever happens, happens." Ransom purred, placing a finger on your bottom lip. You slapped his hand away, and his smirked grew. "Are you going to back out of this already, princess?"

It was your stubborn side that made agree, pressing your lips into a thin line, you grabbed Ransom's hand, shaking it. He raised an eyebrow while you sighed. "You're on. Hope you have enough money to pay for a lengthy trip. I plan on drinking every bottle of wine in Italy."

Despite your baking debacle, you left the kitchen, leaving Meg's monstrous creation on the counter along with Ransom. You went into the living room, trying to find the girl in question when you happened to stumble upon Richard. He barely got to say a word before you turned around, and left the pervert behind. It was always a puzzle how Ransom turned out so hot with Richard and Linda as parents.

Climbing the stairs, you heard the family arguing growing quieter with each step. The second floor was almost a safe haven considering Harlan didn't let anyone raise their voice in the upper level, making it the only quiet place in the house, safe from any Thrombey fights. It was a wonder how the family hadn't murdered each other yet; it was only a matter of time.

Unable to find Meg in your shared room, you sighed, patting your body to find your phone only to realize you left it in the kitchen. With Ransom.

"Looking for this?" Ransom held out your phone, coming up behind you. His usual smirk was gone, a small, genuine smile in its place. It made him look less arrogant.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You took your phone back, half expecting him to take it back just as you wrapped your fingers around it. But he didn't. You realized he was pulling out all the stops, all the little things that you found annoying was gone. He was acting. Eyes narrowing, you unlocked your phone, studying him. "Thanks. I think."

"Meg is helping the Brazilian maid." Ransom answered your silent question. Your thumb hovered her contact, going back to the home screen. Your eyebrows had risen by his mis-categorization of Martha's race and employment. "Pretty sure they went to the grocery store or something."

"Oh, okay." you replied lamely, putting your phone in your back pocket, the tight jeans making it nearly impossible. Opening the door to your room, you stepped in, not giving Ransom another look. But he followed inside, making you turn around. "Do you need something?"

Ransom stuffed his hands in his pockets, the cream-colored sweater shifting with the gesture. "You didn't exactly give me much time to prove myself. And looking around, we're all alone. I can't think of a better time."

As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. The bet was a bit unfair considering how stubborn you were, and the amount of time he had to convince you. But it was a bit unsettling seeing Ransom try so hard, let alone being nice. You nodded, agreeing. "Fine, but can I change first? I'd rather not be covered in flour while you try to seduce me."

"You and I both know I wouldn't seduce you before dinner. There's no way in hell I'd treat you like the others." he mumbled to himself, but you heard it. Clearing his throat, he stepped out of the room. "Yeah, I'll be outside. Waiting. Take your time."

As soon as the door closed, you looked around the room to check if you were being pranked, expecting Ashton Kutcher to burst out of the closet along with a bunch of cameramen. After a few seconds, you came to the conclusion that Supernatural was in this universe, deciding "Ransom" was a shapeshifter or a demon possessed him. It was the only reasonable explanation.

Reaching for the hem of your top, pulling it off in one swift move, dropping it on the bed. Your jeans piling on top, allowing your legs to breathe. Despite Joni's hippie side, she had let Meg sneak in a few joints, the smell becoming stronger as you neared both your suitcases. You didn't think Harlan would be too please to have weed in his house, no matter how lenient he is.

You took your time, a little baffled by what to wear. Ransom hadn't exactly given you an agenda on his plans, leaving you to grab a clean pair of black jeans, and a classy, yet simple, red top. You looked decent enough to fit in a nice restaurant, but casual in case Ransom decided he wanted McDonald's, and most importantly: warm. If he wanted to take you to the North Pole, then he'd have to give you his cozy-looking sweater.

You opened the door, the sight of Ransom rocking on his heels greeting you. His back was to you, his hands inside his pockets as he looked out the window, frost crawling along the edges. It genuinely concerned you how much this man was acting; if you didn't know better, you'd think it was real.

Clearing your throat, you watched him jump in surprise, quickly turning to you. Raising an eyebrow, you tucked your phone in your pocket, meeting his warm, blue eyes. "I'm ready."

"Okay." said Ransom, motioning for you to follow him. You walked down the stairs without a word, the air becoming thick as you walked behind him. The sweater did little to no good disguising his broad shoulders, the muscles somehow still visible under the clothing.

As soon as you reached the bottom, you glanced around, the Thrombey fighting becoming louder with each second. It wouldn't be long before one of them stormed out of the room, muttering a curse under their breath. You'd seen all of them do it at least once. You crossed your arms, wary of whatever Ransom was planning. "Be honest, you're not just going to drive me off to the middle of the woods and murder me, are you?"

Ransom chuckled, giving you a wink as he held his hand out. Without hesitation, you took it. "If I was planning to murder you, I wouldn't do it in the woods. If you're going to die, it's going to be epic."

"Oh, well, that makes me feel better." you sneered sarcastically, instantly rolling your eyes. In the back of your mind, you pondered how long it would take for your eyes to get stuck in your brain with the amount of times you rolled them at Ransom.

He led you towards the door, smirking. "You ready?"

"No. Let's go."

—

"Fuck, baby."

He spent a few moments just staring at your spread pussy, amazed and aching for you more than he ever ached for anything.

"Don't you know why I want you to see it, Ransom?"

Ransom just shook his head without taking his eyes off the your pneumatic body.

"Because it's yours," you sighed. "All yours, baby. You're the one I've been keeping it nice and fresh for."

"Fuck," he muttered.

He kept staring at you, waiting for you to rub you pussy again, but you didn't. You just kept holding it spread.

"Don't you wanna taste me, Ransom?" you purred, barely above a whisper. "C'mon, baby, please. I want you to lick it so bad. I love you so much and I want to give you everything that belongs to you."

The playboy was all but paralyzed by your words. He finally dragged his eyes off your open pussy and looked at your face. You were staring back at him with a glazed look in your eyes. His solid cock was pulsing hard in the tight grip of his fist. No girl had ever looked at him the way you were at that very moment, yet at the same time, he knew you were playing with the hottest kind of fire there was.

"Sweetheart, you know this wasn't the deal." he whispered, distracted.

You smirked. "But you still won."

He finished the thought by leaning down and sliding his tongue up and over your generously offered pussy. You pulled in a sharp gasp when Ransom's tongue lit up your heavily tingling pussy. Your hips rolled instantly in response, your gasps turning to moans while Ransom eagerly slathered his tongue all around your creamily delicious slit. He soon focused his attention on your clit and slipped a finger up inside your hole at the same time.

The man's finger curled and twisted inside you, searching for you g spot while he suckled and lapped at your fully swollen clit. You could barely form words as you gasped and moaned, your luscious body now writhing with desire.

Your pussy oozed heavily the more he licked and fingered you. Your cream was sweet, tangy and intensely intoxicating. Ransom probed at your hole with his finger and the tip of his tongue at the same time, but he soon drew his soaking wet finger out of your hole and wedged it between your ass cheeks, searching for your puckered rimhole.

You gasped deeply and lifted your legs up higher, giving Ransom better access to your asshole. He massaged your tight bud with his honey-coated finger and made deep, hungry love to your pussy with his mouth.

"God god god god, Ransom!" you cried, your hips rolling harder and harder against the man's mouth and finger.

Your body went tense for a few moments and then relaxed. Ransom backed off and watched you languish after your orgasm, pausing briefly to catch your breath. Then you shifted your body and took the hem of your outfit into your hands and peeled it off over your head. Ransom pulled off his T shirt and slid over on top of your luscious body, grinding his rock-hard cock against your pussy as he lowered himself to kiss you.

You whimpered while Ransom's chest mashed down against your heavy, naked tits. They felt amazing against his body, and he was beyond reason when the your mouth opened and set your tongue into motion against his.

Ransom had never kissed any girl so hard or hungrily in his life. Nor had any kissed him back the way you had. At the same time, you were grinding your slick, wet pussy against his cock as hard as he was grinding against you. Then he squeezed his hands in between them and grasped at your tits, kneading them eagerly with his strong hands.

He released your mouth and said," Baby girl, reach down there and put my cock inside you for me. I need that pussy bad, but I can't bring myself to let go of these fantastic tits now that I finally have my hands on them."

You giggled happily and kissed him again while you worked your hands down between your naked bodies. Finally, you got one hand on your pussy and spreading yourself open while you wrapped the other around Ransom's thick cock.

"Oh geezus, fuck, Ransom, you're so fucking hard," you cooed. "Oh god fuck me deep."

You tucked Ransom's cock head into your wet maw and he began grinding his shaft deeper into your sheath. Your pussy felt so tight and creamy, and you both groaned as his rock-hard flesh gradually filled your body. You looked at each other in disbelief, even though nothing had ever felt more right or natural.

Ransom growled as he began to pump his cock in and out of your spectacular body with long strokes. His grip on your tits went tighter and he lowered his head to suck and lick on your swollen nipples.

You whimpered with pleasure, wrapping your legs around his hips and grinding your pussy hard against his thrusting cock. It wasn't long before he was straining to hold on and keep fucking you deep and hard. You didn't make it any easier because of the way you were moaning and your cunt squeezed his pounding cock every time you came.

Finally, Ransom raised himself up on his hands while he pumped your succulent pussy hole as hard and fast as he could, watching your pretty face twist with pleasure while your tits heaved with the force of his lunging body.

"Gimme your cum, baby. I want it in me...fuck!"

With a final, frenzied volley of full body thrusts, Ransom's pulsing cock exploded in your pussy, filling you with a hot flow of jetting spunk.

After, they spent a long time kissing while Ransom caressed the your beautiful tits. He kept his cock buried inside you until his flesh finally started to relax.

You fell asleep in each other's arms, and Ransom knew he had the girl he always needed right there with him. He had been right, all the sarcastic comments and stupid fights had been worth it.

In the morning, Ransom awoke from a haze of dreams to look down and find you lying between his legs with your lips sliding up and down his swollen cock. When you realized he was awake and watching you, you released his big cock from your mouth, giving his shaft a long lick before greeting him.

"Merry Christmas, Ransom."

[all-about-seggs]

The Game of Three-

Rating : 18+, Explicit

Word count : ~ 3K

Pairing : Geto Suguru x female reader x Mahito

Warnings : Mirror sex, dub con, gaslighting ( kind of, like I wanted to add it but not sure if I did it right), Fingering, Cunnilingus, degradation (slight), voyeurism, choking, threesome near the end.

A/n: When describing Suguru's place I totally went into weeb mode and used traditional Japanese terms but I tried to define them to the best of my abilities so y'all won't get confused and I put the link of their pictures in their name as well, so you can check them out if you want.

The red clouds above you parted to reveal the cerulean blue sky, painting the engawa in front of you in its hues. Giving a quick look over to the now clean surface beneath your feet, you made your way to the supply closet to put the mop back.

It's been a few uneventful months since you got employed as one of the only two maids in the entire manor. It was fairly big, atleast for just one person, and minimally decorated so it wasn't that hard to keep the entire place clean even with the two of you. The other maid was a nice old lady who showed you the way around the place and how to do what when you were just starting out.

The manor was quite, most of the time, even with your boss's guests staying over for a couple of days, the place lacked any sort of liveliness much less talking. Just a few more hours until your evening shift is over, you mused to yourself roaming around the garden to feed the pond's fish their dinner as the sun began its descent. Mindlessly, you kept looking around the area until one of the rooms caught your eye. On your right you saw the silhouette of your employer through the thin Shoji door that coverd his room.

Having finished bathing, you saw his toned mascular arms slipping out of his thin bath yukata that contrasted to the one he usually donned, his elegant movements accentuated by the growing darkness the evening provided. His daily outfit was nothing if not modest, covering his body from head to toe, leaving everything to the imagination but right now the delicious shape of his body was on full display, making it harder for you to move.

It wasn't until his form moved closer to the door, that you realised how badly your current actions could effect the job you were given. Just the thought of yourself getting fired after being considered a peeping tom made your breath quicken and not in a good way. The panic surging through your veins momentarily turned your mind blank, making you stumble until the heel of your foot slipped on one of the algae coated rocks. Clenching your butt cheeks you braced yourself for the impact but the efforts proved pointless as the considerably shallow pond's bottom made full contact with your body.

Pain aside, the cold water of the pond was what added most to your immobility until you heard footsteps heading towards you. Looking up from your seated position, the tall figure of your boss, maybe ex boss, loomed over you. He extended one elegant hand towards you.

" Are you okay.....?", His soft tone carried nothing but gentleness but being a mess, both physically and mentally, it took you sometime to process what he had said. Hesitation was clear in your actions as you meekly let him pull you up. His grip on your arm was firm and with how easily he pulled you out of the pond showed his Zephyr-like nature had a brute strength underneath. Threads of wet, black hair covering the sides of his well sculpted face, reached all the way to his mid- back. His usual heavy garb was replaced with a single, cotten yukata which were damp in every places his hair touched.

"Y/n...... Was it?, Can you stand", putting both his hands on your shoulders he peered at your face, you still for a moment, too fascinated by his slitted eyes to look away. This was the first time you two had a real conversation so you forced yourself to speak,

" Oh...umm, I'm sorry! I didn't payed attention to the slippery rocks and fell,.....but I'm okay! So..... Yeah... thank you", it was difficult to keep your voice steady, not wanting to reveal your obviously perverted BUT unintentional peeping. Yup. That's what you kep telling yourself although his secretive smile told you that your poor lie didn't make the cut.

" I see, so tell me y/n dear.....", His hands on your shoulders gripped them a little tighter as he leaned down until his face was right in front of yours, " where exactly were you paying attention to?", The question was simple, nor did it had any threatening undertones but your throat still felt clogged. It was too embarrassing, telling your boss that you were shamelessly ogling at his silhouette changing clothes. One second, two seconds, a lot of seconds passed with you playing dumb until you heard a soft sigh.

" Alright...... If you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go........for now", emphasizing the now, he took your cold hands in his warmer ones, leading you inside his room. You were still drenched, hesitating to climb on the perfectly dry floor of his room,

"It's okay..... I'll go ask for a change of clothes so you sit here, better than the outside right?," Smiling, he disappeared down the hall. The whether wasn't cold, so you didn't have to worry about getting sick but you still reeked of fish and algae, making a change of cloths a better option. You could chid yourself for it but looking at the things in his room can't be considered peeping so you turned around from your sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

His room was relatively normal, just like rest of the manor, the furnishing was minimal, a low chabudai with a few soft looking zabuton around it, a wooden cupboard, the slightly elevated tokonoma on the right side of the room had a full body sized mirror, along with a couple of other tiny decoratives. Nothing stood out with everything in place, your boss sure had simple tastes, you thought to yourself when the door slided again, when the owner of the room itself entered.

He was empty handed , earning a questioning look from you, " it's gonna take a few more minutes to find women's clothing, I hope you don't mind, for the time being....", He walked over to cupboard, producing a towel out of it.

" Use this to dry yourself", handing you the towel he kneeled beside you, he was being so nice, you hadn't expected him to be so kind but you gratefully accepted it. When you began drying your hair, you felt his eyes on yourself, pointed and unnerving. You gulped, feeling like he could see right through your head, just waiting for you to fess up on your own. You were lost in your thoughts when his voice suddenly filled the room.

"You know.....y/n, when you desire something.....", His fingers made their way to your collar, playfully stroking your neck," you should let yourself have it", his last words were nothing but a whisper against your ear as he placed himself right behind your seated form. His upper half of the robe already wet, stuck to his body, defining each and every cut of his muscles. He was somewhere between lean and mascular, his beautiful face giving him just the right amount of sensuality. You weren't naive enough to be oblivious to his suggestive tone.

It was weird to you, perplexing even as to why a clearly well to do, good looking guy would not only make a move on his maid but a maid who smelled like she just popped out of a can of tuna fish. His deep, even breaths stroked your ear as he waited for you to answer.

" I really wasn't thinking about....... 'This'", you pulled his hands wrapped around your shoulders away, to prove your point. You thought he'd be upset but his face only lit up by your rejection.

" Is this embarrassment I see y/n? Because it's not cute", he rose on his knees, looking down at you he gently added, " the mundane world would feel much better if you indulged yourself a bit more you know, even if those indulgences are only of....."

" Sexual nature", his sharp eyes slited as his lips curled into a wicked grin. Impossible to read, his actions did nothing but lure you in a honey coverd poisonous trap. It was obvious with the way his hands started massaging your arms, right where it hurt from your previous fall, blowing softly in your ear. They was all just tricks to make you fall just so he could shame you from above but you'd be damned if it didn't got you all hot and bothered. He grazed his hand across your blouse sticking to your bust, your nipples hardened with the slightest touch. The reactions your body gave were no lies and therefore couldn't be hidden. He pressed your bodies closer until you sat snugly against his torso. You closed your eyes, still unable to decide whether or not you want to let him have his way and deal with all the risks that would soon follow after.

The front of wet your shirt was completely open by now, reveling the garment underneath. Suguru's hands trailed up and down your thighs as he hiked your long skirt higher until it pooled around your hips sticking to the sides. He hooked his left hand under your left knee, doing the same with your right side, he pulled your legs apart, with the mirror in front, you and the man behind you had a full view of your damp panties.

" See that? This is what you want. To be exposed by me. Just the thought of spreading yourself open in front me have you this wet y/n...... Are you sure you weren't waiting for this moment all along?", His voice had a mix of mockery and eroticism in it, his words only adding to the fire burning in the middle of your core. With his right hand, he grabbed the thin strap of your panties at the side of your hips and tore them off until the shredded garment was left dangling on one of your hip. The air in the room, made contact with you now naked pussy but what made you shiver was the mirror in front of you. Suguru held both of your legs as far apart as possible, his face, now lacking all the warmth it had just a few minutes ago. When you tried to squeeze your eyes shut he pinched your inner thighs hard, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

" Keep looking y/n, I'm proving it to you, just how much you're body is begging for me. And I won't stop until you've said so yourself, so keep. Your eyes. Open.," The darkness of his tone was accentuated with the look in his eyes. The fingers of his right hand made their way to your cunt, with two of them he spread your dripping lips apart, reveling the tiny swollen bud that was screaming for attention. You felt it too, the need for release spreading in your body but voicing it meant your defeat so you held your breath, letting the self assured guy behind you continue his ministrations.

" Why can't you be honest just like your needy cunt?", He cooed against your throat as he rubbed your nether lips with his digits, coating them in your slick. He didn't touch your clit, if you were going to be a brat then he's bringing his A game too. Making you beg was his only motive now, his eyes met yours, the mirror in front of you showing every nook and cranny of your privates and by now you're sure Suguru has memorised all of it. The ache between your legs was getting worse as he kept on sliding his fingers up and down your folds but never touching the rest of your sex. You knew what would make him do it but after the prolonged defiance you're not sure how to put it into words.

" Whats wrong y/n, are you ready bow to your filthy desires?, Getting off on my fingers is going to be a lot better than yours right?", Damn his rude ass remarks but they were true, the last few months have been very long and dry for you, day in and day out all work, maybe that's why you're giving in so easily, what he promised was as tantalizing as his actions, that's why you were so horny, easily aroused even.

"Right..... You're .... right, so do it.....master", you broke out, the last of your self control shredding itself as you let your voice flow out just as much as your cunt, your juices.

" Finally gave in huh?, It would've been so much easier if you'd just admitted to being my slut from the start, but oh well, this is also good", his thick fingers slipped in you with ease as he wrapped his left hand around your throat, making you look straight at the mirror. You were a mess, a totally different kind of mess you previously were, in addition to your already damp hair, your eyes were glazed with lust, the corners of your lips moist with your drool that threatened to spill out, your clothes were disheveled and tattered, you were disheveled in general and barely recognisable.

" Now look at yourself closely, how your face twists when I make you cum, how you look when you're begging to me like a real slave," his fingers picked up a brutal pace, going in and out of you relentlessly, his thumb roughly massaging your throbbing clit, sending shivers up your spine. You could clearly see your drool covered face turning hotter by the second, pussy dripping from your buliding orgasm on the tatami mats below it, your moans coming out in broken whimpers as Suguru's hand tighten around your throat, eyes rolling back for a second, you cum around his fingers hard.

" Do you see that ? How disgusting she looks right now?", Turning his gaze to the left he called out to his accomplice in crimes, " Mahito", the other man, with an amicable smile on his peculiar face stared at, not where you lied on the floor, but at your pitiful form that appeared in the mirror.

" I just dropped by to give you the clothes you asked for the young lady earlier," his talked merrily, not minding the scandalous sight in front of him one bit," but it appears that you aren't going to be needing them for a while", throwing the cloths aside he sat on your left side. Suguru kept his eyes on the mirror, loosening his hand around your neck he let you breath, mind still hazy.

" You're free to join in, if you have the time. But I'll have to warn you though, she's a persistent one, it took me a while to break her as well", Suguru smirked, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole making an exaggerated show of bringing his cum smeared fingers to your face, as if prove his victory.

" I don't mind a challenge every once in a while Geto kun, I'm not bad at 'this' myself, but to make sure, why don't you keep sitting, after all it's been a while since touched a living human", Still a bit delirious, it took you a few more seconds than usual to process the change in your situation or what he meant by living just now or touching even. The man named Mahito kneeled in between your still parted thighs, you thought it was strange that your brains last and probably rotting cells decided to focus on his eyes. They were heterochromatic, it gave his already scared face a haunting quality.

The fact that you were sandwiched between two men soon left your mind as Mahito started sucking on your still sensitive clit, your legs instinctively clamping if it's weren't for Suguru holding them apart. The man behind you weren't entirely evil though as he rubbed soothing circles on the soft inner flesh of your aching thighs, his touch only heightning the touch of the man between them.

Mahito licked your juices as if they were made to be feasted upon, slurping on them lewdly, the V of his fore and middle finger seperated your pussy for more access, he grazed his teeth lightly across your clit, fighting the urge to bit it down. You didn't have any energy at this point to put up a show of defiance so you kept moaning, the sight of the man lying flat on his stomach along with his face hidden in between your legs was urging you to cum, but the abrupt thrusting of Suguru's fingers in your mouth cut them off.

" If you're mouth is available enough to scream for just anyone who makes you cum then you truly do have the makings of a whore.", His words were nothing more than a possessive hiss against you throat, long fingers grazing your tonsils as he pushes them deeper. You gag a little, the fingers in you mouth kept you from reacting to the man who worked your pussy until it throbbed against his face.

Mahito turned his heterochromatic eyes towards your face, it seemed like someone was keeping you from your release, he sucked on your clit again adding two fingers in your streched out cunt. He moved both his tongue and digits in similar motions, causing a surge pleasure wash down your senses, with just a few quick pumps of his fingers, your juices gushed on his face as your moans get stifled by the fingers in your mouth.

" That wasn't so bad right?", Mahito pushed himself up as he asked his partner in crime, something about his tone was awfully cocky, making Suguru's face scrunched up in a haughty smirk as he added,

" Indeed, you sure know your way around the human's body Mahito kun, but maybe a little less egar to please attitude would do better. Can't let our toy think we're just here for catering to her needs now can we?", His voice loaded with provocative innuendos sounded nothing but gentle but the other man knew better.

" Hooo?, Is that a challenge for round two, then?", He met Suguru's goading with a playful and assured tone. Both of them stared each other, neither of the males backing down they both turned their eyes at your spent body, and you know even without having to look, that it was going to be a long night.

[saintlevrant]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞-𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐩?

𝑞'𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 — Use of first person. Crack! My wifi is down, and I can't do my school work. So, let's dilly dally! ♡

tw: mature language

𝐎𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐧

♤ personal manager

♤ 10/10 employer

♤ gives random raises and bonuses like it's nothing

♤ also buys a gratuity gift for being his personal manager

♤ "I know it's not much, but it's a little something."

♤ and he just eagerly stands there while I open it

♤ if it's something stupid, on everything, Imma act like that shit is the coolest thing ever given to me just to make him happy

♤ "Gahlee, my guy! This shit cleaner than a bitch! Where'd you get it from?"

♤ his grin is so goofy afterwards

♤ such a sweet man, but ong he stinks after a game

♤ please, y'all know how those jocks in the hallway smell on a daily basis? it's that + make it ✨ sweaty ✨

♤ I'd have to wash his uniform and force him to shower 3 times to get that stench off

♤ hahaha he had me in the first half

𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐞

♤ rice processor

♤ 17/10 employer!!!

♤ he'd probably want some help harvesting the rice, but me and outdoors don't get along

♤ mans does not ask questions after I tell him that

♤ the king of approving whack ass vacation days

♤ he'd let me stay home for a month because I asked and still pay me while I'm gone

♤ he also buys his workers breakfast and lunch without taking it out of our paychecks

♤ the best employer on the block

♤ worse part of the job is when he calls meetings

♤ only calls them when sales go down

♤ he has 5 people that work for him (the two harvesters, me, the dude that picks up the rice to deliver it, and homegirl that takes record of the amount of rice harvested)

♤ we sit at a round table and he, deadass, stares into everyone's soul

♤ "Sales... are down."

♤ scariest statement I'd ever hear ✋🏾

𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮

♤ idk, man. his receptionist?

♤ 6/10 employer

♤ don't get me wrong, probably the coolest employer out of all of them

♤ would probably try to drag me everywhere with the team

♤ bitch, I'm supposed to be at home managing your business calls, not out here babysitting a whole volleyball team

♤ swear, this dude forgets to pay me every other month

♤ that means I get paid once every 2-3 months

♤ how am I supposed to LIVE???

♤ really gotta learn how to ration that shit, ig. wealthy girlies could never.

♤ the pay day might be sporadic but he pays a shit ton when he remembers to

♤ I don't get to take vacation days with him, not because he won't let me, but because, I'm scared to leave him to fend for himself

♤ worst part is that he makes me clean up his house

♤ "Got anything goin after the game?"

♤ "Swear. I gotta go do some chores."

♤ "Does that mean yer cleanin my house today?"

♤ no, Atsumu. I'm not ya fookin nanny

𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐎𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮

♤ dish washer

♤ 13/10 employer!

♤ tried to make me a waitress at first

♤ told him that I'm not a people person, but he kept asking so politely

♤ I mean, homie is super hard to say no to

♤ so, I did it anyway. I'd pay attention to the orders, but I wouldn't talk to them

♤ other than me LOOMING over the customers silently when they needed a refill, I'd be a pretty decent waitress

♤ yeah, he automatically knew that I was right about wanting to be a dish washer

♤ I become the dishwasher (yessssir!)

♤ I literally scrub the dishes so clean that they started squeaking

♤ all the workers are thinking that the utensils and plates are going to break

♤ girl, no. them thangs have to be sterilized. there's a mf pandemic out there

♤ probably the most laid back employer

♤ he's the second most organized after Kita

♤ he pays good money too, and he does not forget to pay on time

♤ vacation days are up to a week per pay period, but he's nice about it

♤ paid leave is only when I get sick + bonuses are only for holidays and birthdays

♤ FREE LUNCH!!!

♤ pick anything off the menu and that's lunch

♤ Imma be milking the shit out of that opportunity cause I want that free lunch to keep coming

♤ "Mr. Osamu, put it on god you made this."

♤ "Ha ha, yeah, I made it."

♤ "On my mama, this hoe bussin! Keep doing what you doing."

♤ the worst thing is having to touch other people's messes. ong that's gross.

𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨̄

♤ personal assistant

♤ 4.5/10 employer

♤ the absolute worst one to work for

♤ does not care about anything except what he wants done

♤ you think that he can't be that bad, but I'm telling the truth

♤ calls in the middle of the night for stupid ass errand runs with no reason at all

♤ he has shawties

♤ and he has a bunch of them, like he's trying to be gen z's flavor flav

♤ he orders me to go pick one of them up and take them back to his house OUTSIDE OF WORKING HOURS

♤ uh, I don't know if he forgot, but I ain't his fucking chauffeuse. I'm the assistant

♤ but I let it slide because his shawties are really nice and deserve to be driven instead of walking alone at night

♤ he just ruins it though cause he proceeds to tell me to go pick up some condoms and lube

♤ chile, I knew that they were gonna have a lil seggs, but I ain't wanna hear it from homie himself

♤ deadass, I just bought some of that shit about a couple of weeks ago

♤ I'd go anyway though, ya know? for the coin

♤ cause he pays decently, not as much as Atsumu, but then again, he pays weekly (that's where 2.5 of his rating comes from)

♤ don't expect any vacation days, raises, or bonuses. you're setting yourself up for failure if you do

♤ all I get is a day off each week and a 10 minute lunch break during working hours

♤ the shawty fiasco isn't even the worse part

♤ when he has his old team over his place or just any company, he shits on everything I'd do

♤ most of Inarizaki are foodies, so if he tells me to go pick up some din dins for them and HE doesn't like it, he's gonna throw it all away and tell me to go get something else

♤ "Try again. This time you better not fuck up."

♤ and he be saying that shit in front of everyone

♤ whatever, g. I should've gone to Shiratorizawa.

© gyecm 2021. do not repost or modify.

[miserablesme]

The Les Miserables Changelog Part 8: 1997 Broadway 10th Anniversary

Hello, everyone! This is the latest edition in my attempt to chronicle all of the musical and lyrical changes which the show Les Miserables has undergone over the years. After a few consecutive editions focused on regional choices, we're finally back to official libretto distinctions. Specifically, this edition covers a substantial rewrite that occured in 1997.

To fully understand the circumstances in which this rewrite took place, it is useful to look at some background information. The original Broadway production of Les Miserables was definitely not its most popular production from an audience perspective. The cast tended to be judged as inferior to touring and international productions. Moreover, cast members often stayed in Broadway productions for very long time periods, leading many to question the show's freshness.

Consequently, there was a large-scale firing to the point that, in January 1997, every principal cast member was let go except for Christopher Innvar (Javert). For the next month and a half, the third national tour cast would perform on Broadway.

March 12, 1997 marked exactly ten years since the original Broadway production opened. To mark this occasion (and perhaps to direct attention away from the questionable ethics of essentially firing an entire workforce on short notice), a new cast would officially take over from the third national tour cast on this day. Not only this, but the show which this new cast would perform was freshened significantly (an update that would also be applied to all existing and new replica productions worldwide soon afterwards). The blocking was adjusted to give off more energy, the lighting was digitized and made more complex, the sound effects were made more realistic, the sets and costumes were refurbished and in some cases changed... and the libretto received many edits. Let's get into what actually was changed...

Oh, and as a side note, not all of the changes were made simultaneously. Most were, but a few small edits (mostly musical cuts) were made later in 1997. I suspect that, in acknowledgement of Cameron Mackintosh's reservations prior to the original London productions as well as a warning of what would come in a few years' time, those cuts may have been made in order to reduce overtime costs to crew members. That is only a theory of mine, however; please take it with a grain of salt.

Anyway, let's get our analysis started!

1997 Update #1

The first libretto change (in a sense) occurs during "Lovely Ladies". Granted, this is a change that had already been applied unofficially in the Broadway and West End productions; however, I'm not sure if it was ever used in the US Tour previously. Originally this was the lyrical sequence:

(SAILORS - simultaneously with prostitutes’ lines)

Lovely lady, fastest on the street

Wasn’t there three minutes

She was back up on her feet

Lovely lady, what you waiting for

Doesn’t take a lot of savvy just to be a whore

Come on lady, what’s a lady for?

(PROSTITUTES - simultaneously with sailors’ lines)

Lovely ladies, lovely little girls

Lovely ladies, lovely little ladies

Lovely girlies, lovely little girls

We are lovely, lovely girls

Lovely ladies, what’s a lady for?

The sequence was finally officially replaced with the following exchange (that was more or less invented for the 1992 UK tour):

(PROSTITUTE)

God I’m weary, sick enough to drop

Belly burns like fire

Will the bleeding ever stop?

(PIMP)

Cheer up dearie, show a happy face

Plenty more like you, dear

If you can’t keep up the pace

(PROSTITUTE)

Only joking, dearie knows her place

Interestingly, this officially version uses "Will the bleeding ever stop" as the West End and Broadway production previously did (as opposed to the 1992 "Will the bleeding never stop"); however, it also uses "you, dear" from the 1992 edit, as opposed to "you here" as had been used in the West End and Broadway productions. However, many individuals continued to sing "you here" for many years to come.

In "Fantine's Arrest", Bamatabois originally declares:

You've got some nerve, you little whore

You've got some gall!

The 1992 UK tour introduced the following variation, which had also been used in the West End production prior to this edit:

You've got some sauce, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

The 1997 libretto combined these two versions into the following line:

You've got some nerve, you ugly slut

You've got some gall!

However, the original "Little whore" was maintained in the libretto as an alternate lyric. I do like how "little whore" actually rhymes with the preceding line ("I won't pay more"), though "ugly slut" does carry more threat. The West End production went with "ugly slut" after this libretto change, while other productions stuck to "little whore" for the time being.

Note that the rest of "Fantine's Arrest" plays out the same as it had since 1986, and did not include any of the other 1992 UK tour variations.

Right off the bat, "The Runaway Cart" is different in this version. The scene now begins with a sound effect of a horse's neigh, a nice little touch that brings one far more in the moment than one might otherwise be (particularly since modern audiences likely wouldn't immediately envision a horse when hearing about a crash). Moreover, the original yell of "Look out! It's a runaway cart!" has been eliminated in favor of more improvised remarks.

The townspeople's remarks mostly are consistent with the 1992 UK tour edit, with one exception. This is how the UK tour lyrics (which were also used in the West End production) went:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

It’ll fall on you too

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

The version used on Broadway and in the US tour in the mid-90s was as follows:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

At the risk of your life

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

The 1997 libretto cemented the scene as follows:

Look at that

Stay away

You’ll be crushed by the cart

Don’t approach

Don’t go near

It’s that load, it'll fall

Oh my god, who is that?

It’s Monsieur Fauchelevent

He is caught by the wheel

Oh the pitiful man

There is nothing to do

I really like how much clearer in meaning the changed line is, although a part of me still has a soft spot for the rhyme scheme of the UK tour.

The crowd's response to Valjean's plea for help has been changed. Since 1987, this is how it went:

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

The old man is a goner for sure

It will kill you as well

The 1997 libretto edited the penultimate line:

Don't go near him, Monsieur Mayor

The load is as heavy as hell

If you touch it the whole thing will fall

It will kill you as well

I suppose the revised lyric makes it clearer what exactly the danger is. On the flip side, though, the line "It will kill you as well" feels a bit less natural. Originally it meant "it will kill you as well as the other man who will be killed"; a fairly natural progression. Now, though, it essentially means "it will kill you as well as falling". This does make sense, but it doesn't really sound like a phrasing any real person would actually use.

The rest of the cart crash scene plays out as it did in the original version (not the UK tour version).

"Who Am I?" starts out differently right off the bat. These are the original opening lyrics:

He thinks that man is me

He knew him at a glance

The 1997 libretto uses these lyrics instead:

He thought that man was me

Without a second glance

The revised lyrics make ever-so-slightly more sense, since "knew him at a glance" implies a degree of correctness that obviously is false in this context. Having said that, I do slightly prefer the present tense of the original, since the fact that this false belief is continuous is integral to Valjean's dilemma. The revised lyrics give it a sense of the past that isn't really appropriate to the context.

Soon afterwards, a small lyrical edit makes the implications of the dilemma itself quite a bit different. Originally, after reflecting on the future employment of his works, Valjean repeated the same lyrics he sung earlier:

If I speak, I am condemned

If I stay silent, I am damned

The 1997 libretto tweaked the remark a bit:

If I speak, they are condemned

If I stay silent, I am damned

Only two short words are changed, yet the substance of his worry is completely different! Originally, Valjean's reservations are based primarily on how he would be viewed if he failed to provide his workers with the employment they need. Now, however, he is much more selfless, and is actually worried directly by their well-being. Much more appropriate given that Valjean is supposed to be such a redeemed man!

The West End production had once given Valjean the "You know where to find me!" line after "Who Am I?" and the Australian tour had given him the line "You will find me at the hospital St. John!" However, these were not official libretto remarks, and at least since 1987 he officially remained silent after his high note. This changed in the 1997 libretto, in which an optional line based heavily on the Australian tour one follows the number: "You will find me at the hospital!"

For the next five years, American productions generally would generally the line while, ironically given the production history, the West End show would not.

Since 1986 or so, the "Confrontation" number began with a bar of instrumentals, before Javert began his "Valjean, at last..." line. No more; the 1997 libretto has him begin singing acapella. Only during the second syllable of "Valjean" do the instrumentals start.

The next edit can be heard during the preamble to "Master of the House". A few lines are adjusted among the inn customers. Originally this is how the scene went:

Landlord over here

Where's the bloody man?

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more

Or my old man is gonna do me in!

The 1997 libretto made it as follows:

Where's the wretched man?

Landlord over here

One more for the road

One more slug of gin

Just one more

Or my old man is gonna do me in!

I suppose the change from "bloody" to "wretched" was probably intended to make the show more accessible to non-British audience, since "bloody" does not seem to be a word frequently used in America or other countries. (Weirdly though, Thenardier keeps his "always pissed as newts" line from earlier; one would expect the word to be replaced with "drunk" or something along those lines!)

The change in order of the first two lines in the excerpt I quoted strikes me as odd. The original sequence of lines allows "man" and "gin" to form of a sort of off-rhyme, something lost with the 1997 order of lines. Did the writers decide that the off-rhyme was so awkward that it would sound better if they just didn't try at all? Who knows...

What is probably this libretto's most significant change in the entire musical happens right before the "Waltz of Treachery". While the original Barbican run had a rather extensive Well Scene, since the West End transfer the "Waltz of Treachery" just began with Valjean and Cosette's humming duet to the tune of "Castle on a Cloud". A short but lovely little scene was added between Valjean and Cosette in the 1997 libretto:

(VALJEAN)

Hush now, do not be afraid of me

Don't cry, show me where you live

Tell me my child, what is your name

(INSTRUMENTALS)

(COSETTE)

I'm called Cosette

(VALJEAN)

(*spoken*) Cosette...

The usual humming duet immediately follows. This scene gives some much-appreciated context to the "Waltz of Treachery", and to Valjean and Cosette's relationship as a whole. Honestly it feels a little incomplete to me nowadays when I listen to the audio of pre-1997 performances of the show. Valjean actually meeting Cosette seems like such an important detail to include! John Caird agreed with me evidently. To quote page 143 of 1990's The Complete Book of Les Miserables:

"If ever there is an amended English version of the show he would like to reinstate the Cosette-Valjean meeting. 'It was beautifully written - one of the most moving scenes in the show,' he says. 'It was taken out for technical reasons, but the well scene was moving and could have stayed.'"

It's heartwarming to see that Caird got his wish. I do wonder what exactly those technical reasons were, and whether or not the revised staging may explain why it could finally be reinstated.

On the flipside, there is a noticeable cut after the "Waltz of Treachery". After Valjean's "There's a castle just waiting for you", the 1987 libretto has about sixteen seconds of instrumentals to the tune of the number, followed by a reprise of Valjean and Cosette's humming duet. This is in turn followed by about eighteen more seconds of instrumentals, which transition into the "Look Down" number.

The 1997 libretto removes the reprise of the humming duet. Now, after "There's a castle just waiting for you", the eighteen latter seconds of instrumentals immediately play, and "Look Down" begins right afterwards. Although this leads to a more energetic change of scenery, I must say that the Thenardier's inn segment of the show feels a bit unresolved without the closing recollection of "Castle on a Cloud".

After Gavroche's opening lyrics to "Look Down", there was originally a musical sequence which played and then was repeated twice before the argument between the beggar woman and the prostitute. However, the 1997 libretto reduced this part so that it is only repeated once.

The same number soon takes a cue from the original pre-Broadway script. After the exchange between the beggar woman and the prostitute, this was the original exchange (which was still being used in the West End production at the time). Each line is a solo, with the latter one being sung by a male and the other three by females:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen, dearie

Something's gotta give

However, the Broadway production had changed it to an ensemble piece:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now or

Something's gotta give

The 1997 libretto brought it back to solo lines, once again with women singing the first three lines and a man singing the last:

When's it gonna end?

When're we gonna live?

Something's gotta happen now

Something's gotta give

I've already noted in the past that I like the scene better as an ensemble piece. Oh well... It also slightly bugs me that the amount of syllables so much less naturally given that the third line loses a syllable. As we'll get into in later editions of this blog, a lot of producers apparently agreed with me, because a lot of productions slightly edited the exchange!

A more subtle difference is audible later in "Look Down". Previously, the line "Something for a crust of bread in Holy Jesus' name" was sung by the ensemble along with the rest of the "See our children fed..." segment. However, the 1997 libretto changed it into a solo line sung by a single beggar woman (despite the rest of the segment remaining an ensemble piece).

This edit was made to account for a change in staging. Prior to 1997, Marius and Enjolras stood on the ground, and the beggars began surrounding them while singing the ensemble piece. It made since for the entire thing to be a group effort. However, since 1997, Marius and Enjolras instead stand on the second level of the set, where they sing their lines to the beggars down below. The beggar woman with the "Something for a crust of bread" line walks by them on the set's second level, explaining why she along sings the line now.

As a side note, the 1987 Australian tour had previously made this exact same lyrical change. This makes me wonder if that production made a similar staging change earlier.

In "The Robbery", after Thenardier's "No mistakes, my dears!" there is originally a bar of instrumentals before Mme. Thenardier starts singing. Post-1997, she starts singing immediately after Thenardier finishes singing his line.

A change in the music was made to "The Robbery" alongside a staging change later in the number. Prior to 1997, Thenardier's con job was staged with him standing with a cane and hiding his right leg, making him look like he was missing a leg. This strikes me as an odd holdover from the pre-Broadway lyrics, in which the actual substance of his plea reflects his missing leg. However, the 1997 staging made it so that he is sitting down while turning the crank on a music box. The instrumentals to this part of the musical were simplified and made more synthetic in order to sound as though they were coming from the music box. I am not a fan of this change at all; it's far too self-aware for me to take the scene remotely seriously.

A change to "Red and Black" that was already widely used before this point was solidified into the show. Instead of opening with the first chords of the number, it now officially opens now with the sting that was introduced in the 1992 UK tour and which was later adapted into Broadway, the third national tour, and most international productions. For many years post-1997, it can be heard in every replica production.

To quote myself from part five of this blog:

"If I’m not mistaken, this musical addition was placed in to account for a change in staging. Originally the number began with the barricade set sliding off-stage, revealing the ABC cafe set behind it. However, around the time of this tour the blocking was adjusted. Now, the turntable instead revolved at the beginning of this number, revealing the ABC cafe set on the other end of the turntable and allowing the barricade set to double as the walls of the cafe. I believe the opening sting was added to allow time for this slightly more elaborate staging."

An extremely subtle difference occurs later during "Red and Black". Originally, Enjolras sings:

The color of the world

Is changing day by day

However, since 1997 he instead sings:

The colors of the world

Are changing day by day

This is a tiny change, to the point that it took me probably a few dozen listens of both pre-1997 and post-1997 audios to pick up on the distinction. Small as it may be, though, it's a very welcome edit. Given that the song revolves around more than one color (to the point that both colors are literally in the title), I honestly find it baffling that the lyric was ever written in the singular, let alone that it managed to hold onto that version for over a decade!

"Lamarque is Dead" is edited so that its lyrics are now consistent with the 1992 UK tour ones, as well as West End performances after that tour. Originally the lyrics were as follows:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

It’s a rallying cry that will reach every ear

In the death of Lamarque we will kindle the flame

They will see that the day of salvation is near

The time is here…

However, the 1997 libretto made them into what the West End and UK tour productions were already using:

On his funeral day they will honor his name

With the light of rebellion ablaze in their eyes

From their candles of grief we will kindle our flame

On the tomb of Lamarque shall our barricades rise

The time is here…

I generally prefer the revised lyrics, as I've discussed in earlier editions of this blog.

"The Attack on Rue Plumet" contains a couple of edits. Originally, Thenardier sings to Brujon:

You shut your mouth

Give me your hand

Post-1997, he instead sings:

You shut your mouth

You'll get what's yours

This edit was another that was partially made for the sake of a staging stage. In the original blocking, Thenardier and the gang are trying to climb over Valjean's gate, and Brujon would literally be using his hand to help Thenardier out. However, the 1997 staging changes things so that the gang is trying to pick the lock. This is much less of a group effort for obvious reasons.

Additionally, the new lyric has slightly more threatening undertones, given its implications of either positive or negative outcomes depending on how helpful Brujon actually is.

Later in the number, after Eponine's scream, Thenardier's reaction takes some cues from the original libretto. Pre-Broadway, these were the lyrics (which were still used in the West End at the time):

Make for the sewers, don't wait around

Leave her to me, go underground

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Post-1987, this was the sequence instead:

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

Leave her to me, don't wait around

Make for the sewers, go underground

The 1997 edit essentially combined elements of those two versions:

Make for the sewers, go underground

Leave her to me, don't wait around

You wait my girl, you'll rue this night

I'll make you scream, you'll scream alright!

So the lines remain in the post-1987 form, but they are ordered in their pre-1987 form. I've already mentioned that I prefer the 1987 ordering of things, though the 1997 version isn't bad either.

Compared to the first act, the second one has much fewer changes. The first one comes not until the "First Attack" sequence. Before 1997, this was the students' response to their first victory:

(LESGLES)

See how they run away

(GRANTAIRE)

By God, we've won the day

The 1997 libretto changed it to the following:

(LESGLES)

See how they turn and run

(GRANTAIRE)

And so the war was won

I admit I prefer the original lyrics to this one. Grantaire's revised lyrics lack the incredulous spirit of the earlier ones, and the almost narrator-esque out-of-the-moment quality to his post-1997 lyrics is grating.

Later, prior to "Drink with Me", Enjolras speech is slightly changed. Originally he declares:

We must be ready for the fight

For the final fight

Let no one sleep tonight

The 1997 libretto makes his words as follows:

We must be ready for the fight

For tomorrow's fight

Let no one sleep tonight

Although "the final fight" has a climactic air that "tomorrow's fight" lacks, I suppose it is more realistic that Enjolras would have no way of knowing whether there will be more to come after the next battle.

Grantaire's lyrics in "Drink with Me" are edited a bit. Since 1987, this was what he sung:

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Can it be your death means nothing at all?

Is your life just one more lie?

The 1997 libretto edited it into the following:

Will the world remember you when you fall?

Can it be your life means nothing at all?

Will your death be one more lie?

Not terrible, but in my opinion the previous lyrics were far more effective. It makes much more sense to me for one's life to be described as a lie than one's death. The original lyric implies that the students' deaths are for nothing, and that their lives are meaningless. I suppose that is still the message of the revised lyrics, but they strike me as a bit obtuse for my taste.

That's it for the edits in this part (unless you count the official addition of the "You raised my child in love" and "I'll lead you to salvation" variation in the epilogue, which had already been used worldwide for a few years anyway).

But this did not mark the end of the chapter of the Les Mis saga. As I've mentioned earlier, a few edits were made in later months of 1997. So let's look at:

1997 Update #2

The first variation that can be heard in this version occurs during "Lovely Ladies". The "God, i'm weary..." sequence is originally sung in exactly the same tune as the rest of "Lovely Ladies". However, this edit changed it into a slightly different variation of the tune. In my opinion this is a definite improvement. As I mentioned in a previous edition of this blog, while thematically the sick prostitute scene is more fitting than the scene it replaced, it can potentially feel awkward when it's the sole part of the song in its tune not to feature the phrase "lovely ladies". Putting it in a different tune makes its out-of-place vibe feel intentional. In a way, its slightly different sound cements the idea that the prostitute is sick and is not functioning in the same way she ordinarily would.

The first of a few cuts occurs before "Eponine's Errand". Originally, it begins with a few seconds of instrumentals before Eponine starts singing. However, starting with this edit, Eponine begins singing acapella. Not until her first verse is finished do any instrumentals come in. I slightly prefer the version with instrumentals, but it still works alright.

The next cut happens during the opening barricade scene to the second act. Originally, Lesgles' "They will do what is right" is followed by a few seconds of instrumentals before Marius sings his "Hey little boy..." line. However, this edit removed those instrumentals, meaning Marius starts right after Lesgles stops singing. Truth be told I've always found that scene boring, so I can't say I object to cutting it down by a few seconds!

The last cut occurs after "Dawn of Anguish" and before Gavroche's death scene. The "Drink with Me" reprise after the former number originally is followed by an instrumental reprise of the chorus of "Castle on a Cloud". This is then followed by the closing notes to "Drink with Me". However, this edit makes it so that the reprise ends quickly, going right to the ending notes of "Drink with Me" without any "Castle on a Cloud" chords. I definitely prefer the original; it feels so much more emotional and reflective. I've been told it also holds some context to the original book of Les Miserables, though I don't know much more given that I have not yet read the book.

That just about sums this part up! If I missed anything feel free to let me know, as my goal is to create a changelog as thorough and complete as possible. I plan on making more parts in the near future covering all the changes that have been made in the show up until this day (discounting concerts). Any feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated.

As a side note, both for this project and my own enjoyment, I want as complete a collection of Les Miserables audios as possible. I already have most of what’s commonly circulated, but if you have any audios or videos you know are rare, I’d love it if you DMed me!

Until the turntable puts me at the forefront again, good-bye…

[narrators-journal]

Life after the fact

CW: mentions of some nasty stuff related to kids.

First part: Here

For the next few days you were a mess. Between the morning sickness and the guilt of having murdered someone, you were throwing up every bit of food or water you tried to digest, every shadow and small noise in your crappy, dirt cheap apartment at night sent you into a break down, sickened more with fear and the force of your sobs when you got overwhelmed. You never felt like you could relax, everything was nerve-wracking, and especially when you went outside. However, as the weeks passed, you got a handle on your fears. You weren't exactly okay, but you forced yourself to adjust and move on as best you could. As if the paranoia wasn't enough, you also had to deal with being pregnant on your own now. Oh god, I should've just stayed with Illumi! What the hell am I supposed to do about this whole thing?! You thought one night as you sat in your windowless bathroom, curled around the toilet, vomitting from the nerves, nausea, and violent sobbing, I wish I could just go back...apologize and just go back to the way things were. you lamented as you sucked in shakey, cold breaths that burnt your throat. It wasn't like you'd planned this far ahead, your escape attempt was a heat of the moment thing, fuelled by the fear of what might happen after you gave birth and the gut feeling that your partner would doom your child to a life akin to his own, which was definitely not a normal, healthy, or happy one. So, now you were left to suffer the last, stubborn thrashes of winter alone, in a crappy little apartment with walls so thin you could feel the last icy wind of winter when it blew, struggling with pregnancy symptoms and relentless paranoia of what will happen if or when Illumi finds you. After that night, you decided it was best to do what you could to lessen your stress, but that was easier said then done. For one, no matter the steps you took to ensure your safety, taking jobs great distances from where you live, whipping up a fake identity to use for work, limiting how often you went out, you could never fully convince yourself that you were safe from the Zoldyck family. Another thing that stopped you was your financial situation. You managed to nab a bit of cash from the car you'd stolen from the butler, using most of it on a cheap car, but, while a reasonable amount still, you still ended up taking up a job as a maid-for-hire of sorts, and usually your employers would tip you terrifically when they figured out you were pregnant, but with the gas bill, food, and the sketchy amount of rent you had to pay, you had little to nothing left to save for a better place or the baby. Finally, you realized after looking into it at one of your employer's homes during your break, that you were too far along in your pregnancy for termination, since at that point you were somewhere in your fourth month, so that left you with almost no other option than to find a way to give birth. After that, you just settled for having the child at home to avoid the paper trail a doctor's office would need and than leaving the baby at a church. They'll take the kid in and put it into foster care, which is a safer gamble than the Zoldycks. You thought, wiping the beginnings of tears from your eyes as you drove to the day's job. For the remainder of the day, you focused on your work, cleaning up toys, doing and folding laundry, making beds, the usual duties for this particular household, and did your best to not think about your past. That is, until you heard someone knock on the door while you were upstairs mopping the bathroom. The sound instantly sent ice down your spine. It felt as if the world skipped a beat in time with your heart, but at another knock, you took a deep breath and inched towards the distant door. Your heart thundered in your chest so hard that it hurt, but you picked your way down, staying away from the windows and doing your best to move stealthily with the slowly growing bump of your stomach until you could look out of the front door's peep hole. Thank the heavens it was simply your employer, a neatly dressed, glasses clad woman who you'd heard was a lawyer or CEO of some sort, not an assassin. So, just as she gave a third, more impatient knock, you opened the door,             "I'm so sorry ma'am! I couldn't move too quickly to get to the door sooner," you said, not meaning to sound near hysterics, but at least that made you sound super apologetic as the woman huffed in annoyance,             "It's fine, I just had my entire day upheaved." she said, walking in and you swiftly shut the door, not thinking much of the figure you saw standing at the roadside from the corner of your eye, she commonly had other helpers here when you were, it was likely just a gardener or someone to bring in her bags. "First, I burn myself with coffee at 6 am this morning, than I have to drive three damned hours to the airport just to find out my business trip was cancelled because the client decided to cut ties with my work! Ugh, don't get me started on tr-" The woman paused her ranting and hair adjustments suddenly, looking at you with concern and confusion on her dark-skinned face, "Are you alright, dear? Why are you crying?" Her voice was gentle, all annoyance gone when she'd realized you were upset, but it still made you jump and feel a small spark of guilt at the show of vulnerability, something you'd been fighting to repress. But your emotions had been so unpredictable recently, it only made sense that you failed.            "I-I'm sorry, I don't know what's come over me," you sniffed, scrubbing at your tears as she put a reassuring hand on your back and led you to a chair, letting you sit down,            "Don't worry about it, I just thought I was the one to upset you. Are you sure you're alright?" You nodded as she looked you over, looking so parental and compassionate, it made your heart hurt. And just like that, even more tears were falling onto your clothes as a sharp knife of loneliness cut through you. You did your best to at least slow the streams of tears, but seeing this woman you hardly knew be so motherly and understanding reminded you of your own mother, or maybe those times Kikyo had helped you through the beginnings of morning sickness or nausea. Either way, your boss' actions hit a chord and now you were trying not to bawl while she offered you tissues and talked you down from the hormonal extreme.          "I see now, must be the pregnancy talking." she laughed a little, "when I was expecting my eldest, the mood swings never really left, and just about anything would set me off. I remember one time, my husband had made me breakfast and I ended up sobbing over it for a good five minutes while he was just mortified." she said, giving you a comforting smile when you weakly laughed. Finally, when you were past the violent sobs, your boss helped you up and led you to the kitchen so you could splash some water on your face and she could get you some tea to help you relax. Once you were settled down at the table, warm cup of tea between your hands, your boss sat at the table with you and let you take a few sips before asking,           "So, do you have any plans set for the baby?" she asked, and you felt her warm eyes drawing out all of your issues. You started out pretty vague, admitting you weren't really sure of what to do, but that soon led to you going into detail about how you didn't think you'd be keeping the child and probably putting them up for adoption since you couldn't afford them. You told her that you felt so bad for the decision, but you didn't want to raise your child in poverty or worsen their quality of life in general, which your boss understood, laying her dark hand on yours soothingly as you spoke. For the next hour or so, you sat with the woman and she helped you through all of your options. You told her that the father of the child wasn't the best, so she explained good ways to limit contact and how to keep track of every instance of neglect, abuse, or anything of the sort just in case things required lawyers and courts. By the time you'd left her home for the day, you were feeling much better about your situation, and while your plans to put the baby up for adoption hadn't changed, you were much more confident in the steps to go about it. You kept that job for two or three more trips, telling your boss of your plans to stop after that. She understood perfectly and made sure your pay was doubled,           "Pretty soon you'll come up on being six months, you won't be able to do a lot in your third trimester." she pointed out after you refused to accept her money, but that wasn't the only kind thing she did for you. No, on your second to last job with her family she had basically spun you around at the door and herded you out to her car. "I understand you're trying to keep as low a profile as possible, but I can't in good conscious not have that child checked on." she told you as she drove you to a check up, patting your hand and just letting you bawl, but she refused to let you apologize for her helping. In fact, when you thought back on the drive after the appointment, she seemed somewhat sad, but you couldn't exactly place why and on the drive back you didn't want to ask and open an old wound. So, you simply didn't say anything about it and went home that night with knowledge that so far your baby seemed fine, and a tip from your boss to find some time to relax more, "Make sure to destress as best you can, it's good for your mental health and the baby." she advised, as motherly as ever. So, you decided on your drive home to give that advice a shot. At least once. So, after your last job with that family, while spring time was beginning to really settle in outside, leaving a crisp but fresh feeling night in the wake of a lukewarm day, you had borrowed a book from a neighbor and ran yourself a warm bath to hopefully relax in, even if you likely wouldn't be able to get out of it super easily when bedtime rolled around. Despite that fact, sinking into the warm water felt like heaven to your aching back, breasts, and hips. So, you relaxed in the water for a long while, two hours or so, just reading the book and occasionally putting your hand on your belly to feel the baby kick. The only thing that could've made the night better was if you had some scented candles and maybe a shoulder rub, but you were content with settling for this. All around, the night was near perfect, and that was somewhat because you refused to let your anxiety at the little creaks of your floor or the sounds of your neighbors opening their own doors in the ratty old hall destroy your good time. Eventually, you did get out of the cooled water with some work and got dressed in your comfiest clothes before going to bed, feeling rather happy and relaxed, and thus falling asleep rather quickly. That night, you had quite the weird dream. You weren't a stranger to nightmares about Illumi or the Zoldycks, but this dream was much more melancholy. At the start, it was pretty normal, a nonsensical flurry of dream-logic-fuelled, stream of consciousness, but than things got a bit easier to follow, and the dream took a turn from non-sense, to a bittersweet dream of laying in bed with Illumi again, letting him feel your belly and generally being happy with an undertone of 'something's off' to it. When you woke up the next day you were hit with a tsunami of yearning for that scenario, or any scenario that meant you got cuddled and comforted, and didn't feel so crushingly alone. For the twentieth time since the beginning of the month, you thought of returning to the Zoldyck estate, or at least making it easier for your fiance to find you, but than your common sense kicked in to stomp out that fantasy. No! If I go back my life will be more than just miserable boredom and restrictions. It'll become worse than hell! Illumi will be pissed beyond belief and will probably do something extreme to me! Your fearful inner voice had a point, Illumi had already threatened you when you'd asked to go out without him that day, he'd undoubtedly do worse to you for not only trying to run, but staying gone for so long and putting your baby under so much stress. Oh god, what would he do if I miscarry? The mere thought of his reaction was enough to settle the debate. You'd stay gone. You'd put up with the apartment that smelled of wet dogs and smoke, the paper thin walls, the exorbitant rent, you'd leave your baby at a church once they were born, and you'd go off the grid. If you could help it, you'd never go back to face Illumi and his family.