#just putting this out here in remembrance of when an old boss told me discussing wages was against the law :)

[uncanny-tranny]

Reminder that in the United States, your right to discuss wages is protected by the law. It is unlawful for your employer, boss, or managers to prohibit you, specifically, from talking about your wages.

Discussing wages is crucial to knowing if your labour is being compensated correctly. Higher-ups do not want you to discuss wages because you may find out that your labour is not being monetarily compensated for. Talk about your wages

Read the National Labor Relations Board article here, talk about your wages with fellow workers.

[monsoonblooms12]

Detectives By Chance: Chapter 5- Buried Remembrances

A/N: Hi, how is everyone doing? Honestly I don’t know how I am doing. I had a massive breakdown just now and my mom is still yelling at me. Everything has just been a mess. So, please ignore any mistakes, and I am really sorry if it is not good. I am just not in the best state of mind rn and if I don’t post it, I will never get it done. Sorry for the ramble and I hope you still enjoy reading whatever this is 💛

Series Summary: It was supposed to be a usual weekend for the four. Coffee, fun, friends and love. But an unexpected case changed their lives in a way they had never imagined. A mystery - a murder - many secrets… Will Ethan, Pooja, Alexandra and Mark, be able to survive? Or will the circumstances twist and break their lives forever?

Pairing: Ethan × f!MC (Dr. Pooja Sharma)

Disclaimer: PB owns most of the characters. I only own the OCs and my MC.

Word count: ~2K

Triggers: Mentions of blood, murder

But the memories that hang heaviest are the easiest to recall. They hold in their creases the ability to change one's life, organically, forever. Even when you shake them out, They've left permanent wrinkles in the fabric of your soul.

Ethan, Pooja and Alex were stupefied on seeing Mark's condition. He was the jolliest man they have ever known, his happy-go-lucky personality and on-point sense of humour acted as a charm on the surrounding people. This was one of the qualities which made him an amazing doctor because he could relieve patients from their sorrows and pain and make them open up.

But seeing him like this, so broken, so fragile made them realize that a smile sometimes hides a thousand scars behind it.

"Mark, listen to me!! I cannot see you like this. Please calm down. I am damn worried" Alex said, keeping tears at the brink.

"Lex, I love you. You are my strength, my power. Hell, you are my everything. Don't cry. If you cry, I won't be able to tell what I want to. And the pain will again kill me inside." Mark pleaded.

"Okay, I will try to keep as calm as possible. But, promise me, if matters start getting out of hand, you will stop." Alex said.

"Yes, Mark. If someone knows something about painful childhoods that is Ethan and me. So if you can't talk about it, you won't talk about it. We are heck worried about you, man!" Pooja said.

"I Promise. If I feel like having a nervous breakdown, I will stop. But please hear me out. These memories have stayed hidden for so long that now they feel like a burden. I need to get them out."

Then Mark began continuing his story,

"Remember when I told you in the car that I had a brother?"

"Yes, you said that. I suppose your pain was caused by your brother's death?" Ethan asked

"Ha Ha Ha" Mark let out a bitter laughter. "No, that man is not dead. Yes, my pain is caused by my brother but not by his death. By his deeds."

"He was my favourite person in the world. He was my best friend, my study partner, the person who would listen to my endless rambles. He was the only person who understood me and my thoughts. Or, at least that's what I th-th-thought."

Mark paused, face pale. Something was not right.

"Mark, are you alright? MARK!?" Alex exclaimed.

Mark was slowly losing consciousness. He said slowly, "P-P-Please t-t-take m-me-home... I-I c-can't stand b-being here."

The three sprang into action. Ethan helped Mark in the backseat of the car. Alex sat beside him, placing his head on her shoulder. Pooja sat in the passenger seat. Ethan got behind the wheel and drove to their penthouse.

After reaching, they seated Mark and tried to change the topic for him to feel better. The tension cooled down, and Mark felt better.

"You all are the damn best people in the world. I could never imagine anyone to be so concerned for me. Everybody used to see a happy face and think I am fine. But no one understood my pain like you three do." Mark said, gratitude and love shining in his eyes.

"But, I need to complete my tale. Now that I am feeling better and that we are home, I am sure there will be no more troubles."

Mark continued his story.

"Also, did I tell you that my brother was my inspiration to become a doctor? He was the first doctor in our family. When he was in Med school, he used to tell me the things he learnt. He built that interest for medicine in me."

"Wait a sec!" Pooja stopped him abruptly. "Stop me if I am over-stepping, but your brother is a doctor?! But, But-" She couldn't complete the sentence, but everyone understood what she was thinking.

"Baby, we should not jump into conclusions. Let Mark complete." Ethan stopped her from putting out her thoughts.

"Yes, my brother is or at least was a doctor. B-Before he, he..." Mark stuttered.

"Before he was arrested."

The three gasped. Mark's brother, was arrested?!

"Wait what, he was... arrested? But why? " Alex said, surprise in her tone.

"He, he was arrested for prescribing the WRONG DOSES OF MEDICINES TO HIS PATIENTS" Mark shouted, anger boiling and tears welling up in his eyes. "HE FREAKING MURDERED AT LEAST 3 OF HIS PATIENTS BECAUSE HE PRESCRIBED THEM SUPER HIGH DOSES OF THEIR DRUGS" The tears left his eyes.

"A-And he didn't stop there. He tried to k-k-kill our dad. He...He tried to inject a heavy dose of benzodiazepine to our dad." Mark completed. The horror and shock was evident on the other three's faces. Mark's brother, tried... to kill his dad? But why?

"But why in god's name did he ever do that?" Ethan asked.

"No one knows. The police questioned him for days, months, but got no reply. The only thing he used to do was laugh on their faces and tell them that he will get his revenge." Mark said.

"The day he was arrested, since that day he was considered dead by our family. But the news had a devastating effect on our family. Patients called, hurled abuses, threatened to kill. The neighbours threatened to throw us out. With my dad being sick, me and my mom had to bear it all. All this broke her. So once I got into residency, I took my mom and dad out of that horrid place and brought them to NYC with me."

"But their joy lasted less. My mom, she died within six months of transferring. My dad stayed a little longer. T-The last day of my residency was the last day of is life. And you know what were his last words?"

"What?" The other three asked in unison.

"Don't become Miles" Mark says, tears flowing down his eyes. But, as the three observed, a sense of calm spread through his face. As if a weight had been lifted, from his soul.

"So your brother's name was..."

"Miles, yaa."

"Mark, I hope you are feeling better now. Getting that all out, it must have been a hell of a pain." Pooja asked, remembering her painful childhood.

"Yes, it is. God, I needed to do this. Now I am feeling so fresh, so new. I can finally leave those dark times behind me and start leaving a new life." Mark spoke with a flicker of new hope, new life.

All the while, listening to Mark's story, Pooja was thinking about her pain. Her tale, her own story. She saw how calm and peaceful Mark was after getting it all out. Even after trying, she couldn't remember him being this peaceful, anytime before. She realized that today or tomorrow, she had to take it all out. No matter how hard she tried to bury it, it would come out.

"Mark, do you think, you-your brother could do..." Alex asked with a bit of uneasiness.

"Nothing impossible for a man who tried to kill his father. And also, I am damn sure if the card brought us to my childhood neighbourhood, it would lead to his private clinic. Only he had his practice set up there." Mark scoffed.

"We should look into that. But first we need to check on the questions we had written in our notebook. We need to complete the research as soon as possible. Mark, Lex, can you stay here for the night, we could finish it today itself if you two could be here." Ethan said.

"Yaa, we surely can. No, we would love to. You know, whose is a better tension-calmer than me, hmm? I am a humour boss." And with that, old Mark was back.

"Sure, Mark, sure. But maybe the points to the best sarcasm goes to Lex?" Ethan chuckled.

"Ohh, Ramsey. That's what makes me and Walton soulmates." Mark said, trying to pull Alex into a hug.

"Mark, SHUT UP! You know I hate hugs. I hugged you earlier because I was hecking worried. Now, hush!" Alex said, trying to hide a giggle and spectacularly failing

After a few more moments of laughter, the four set to work. They thought they would not find much about their questions on the 'net, but what they read shocked them more and more. As they got the information, they started writing it down below the respective questions.

1. Who is Mr Davis? Why was he targeted?

Richard Davis. 43. Investment banker. Originally pursuing Medicine, later went on to pursue his interest in investment banking.

2nd part: No answer

2. Why did no one from his associations never come to question about him?

No answers

3. Why did the murderer target Pooja and Alex? How does he know them?

No answer. But speculating that the murderer is Miles Danvers.

4. How was the murder committed?

Acute cyanide poisoning. Throat slit afterwards.

5. Addresses.

Address No. 1 checked, the MedMinders Store. Not checked Address 2 but is possibly Miles Danvers's private clinic.

6. MedMinders Drug Store

Checked. Valuable information received.

7. D.I.B.S.15

No Idea.

"So far, so less. We are beautifully lacking on information." Mark remarked.

"Agreed. Agreed. But wasn't this man supposed to be high-profile?" Alex said

"Maybe high-profile with full pockets. Not fame." Pooja said.

Ethan however, did not partake in the discussion. He was busy thinking something.

"Ethan? What are you thinking?" Pooja asked on seeing his furrowed eyebrows."

"I think I might know what D.I.B.S.15 means," Ethan said

"What? I mean, how? That could mean anything" Alex said, visibly surprised.

"No, not anything. I think it means, 'Davis, Investment Banker, Scam 2015" Ethan put out his thoughts.

"D, understood, I.B, understood, but S and 15? How did you deduce them to be scam 2015?" Pooja asked.

"I remember reading about it. It was one of the biggest investment scams ever. And it was speculated that some high-profile investment banker was behind it. But the real culprit was never caught." Ethan laid out his thoughts.

"So, this man is a fish of the deep waters. He is so much more than what we thought." Mark said

"And that also means that if somebody had come to know about it, then he had enough enemies. This mystery is getting tangled with every passing moment." Alex said.

While talking and discussing possible theories, they looked at the clock. 2 at night.

"Oh, dear! We have work tomorrow. God, let's get some sleep, otherwise we will be like living zombies in the halls tomorrow." Pooja said, giggling.

The four tidied up the living room, said their goodnights and went to sleep.

The nightmares began again. Pooja couldn't sleep an ounce. She was too afraid to close her eyes. The memories terrified her.

Enough. No more nightmares. No more suffering. No more sleepless nights. She was tired of feeling so powerless.

"Ethan, Ethan" She gave him a jerk.

"What is it, Poo? Are you okay, is it the nightmares again?" Ethan woke up with a start.

"I need to tell you. All about this. I cannot bear it any more." Pooja said.

"I am all ears, baby. Tell me everything. If this can make you sleep, I am ready to wake all night to listen to you." Ethan said, pulling her in his arms.

Enclosed in his arms, she laid it all in front of him. The way her mother was murdered. The way she was kidnapped when she was only 11. The terror she felt when she was all alone. The horror when she saw the bloody knife. And the heartbreak and pain she felt when it was found out to be her aunt, her mother's sister was behind all it. The disgust that she felt towards her when she revealed her sinister plans, her hunger for money.

At last, everything was out. As if she was free. As if now, there were no troubles in her life. But what happened till now was only the taste of a sinister plan. The actual dish was yet to be served.

PS: If you have come this far, I am truly grateful to you. I just hope to be at a better place the next time and be okay. But I will stop this ramble now and I hope you have a great day ahead💕   

Tags: @bbrandy2002 @kaavyaethanramsey @ohramsey  @hopelessromanticmonie @trrfanaddict @nervoussaladsludgeopera @imonlybibecauseofethanramsey @lovablegranny @bellcat2010 @gkittylove99 @kingliam2019@3riche @chetachisblog @starrystarrytrouble @arcticrivers @aylaramseycarrera @drariellevalentine @mvalentine​ @aestheticartsx​@angela8754​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @ao719​ @choicesstan1 @nikki-2406​ @neotericthemis​ @openheartfanfics​ @choicesficwriterscreations​

[brian-wellson]

The red, coppery wash had not dispersed despite the passage of years. The echo of the gunshot, the grief felt by Juniper, the anger ... none of it had faded to Wellson. Birdhat had once told him that the presence of Justine’s blood, splashed across the threshold to Swamp Castle, was an honour, a means of remembrance. He had told Wellson about the ways in which Grummle sherpas would use such touchstones to encourage their progenitors to walk with them during the fiercest of storms. At the time, Wellson had smiled and nodded politely, perhaps even granting the idea some currency, though he had remained skeptical.

But now, standing above the stained, porous limestone, he knew what his friend had been trying to express.

He was lost in thought, contemplating friends he had lost, and enemies he had gained. How the Darkshore pact into which he had entered with that unspeakable entity had spread darkness throughout him, like a metastatic, cancerous tumour.

“It was a stupid call, boss,” said Justine.

Wellson startled at her comment. He did not reply.

“I mean, I can’t tell you the positions the sin’dorei put me in, but I never sold everything to something I couldn’t even see.”

“You were not there,” he said after a moment, eyes never leaving the bloodstain of his dead friend.

“Of course I was there,” said Justine. She walked in front of him, standing tall and cross-armed in her black leathers. “Like I would have missed the chance to kill those fuckers?”

Wellson snorted. “You did not help me,” he said.

“I was a bit tied up,” she said, a smirk slowly crossing her lips.

“Rope is better than chains,” he mused.

“Depends on the situation,” she said. The smirk broadened.

“I’m in trouble,” he said.

“I know.”

“And I cannot see a way out.”

“I know that, too, boss,” she said, crossing the dilapidated floor of Blackbay’s once busy headquarters. “But you’ll find it. You always do.”

Wellson clicked his tongue. “Not this time...”

Justine uncrossed her arms. She squat down, and ran her hands over the bloodstain that had surrounded her body. “There’s always a way out — maybe you don’t want to see it... Light knows I didn’t when my time came, but Juniper’s survival, yours?!” She shook her head. “That was the way out.”

“I do not wish to die,” he said, voice a flat monotone.

She chuckled. “And I did?” Justine sighed, clapping her hands to her thigh. She stood up, facing him directly.

“So what do I do? Kill myself?” He scoffed. “I’m stuck with this pact, it follows through death ... and rebirth.”

She clapped her hands. “Let’s have a Winter Veil party.”

“Uh...”

“Think about it. You have the chance to redeem yourself, to explain what you did, to tell people about Rì—”

Wellson cut off his best friend. “I can’t discuss Her. That’s part of the issue,” he said. He had a fleeting thought something was not correct with this situation, but it was just that: fleeting.

“Fine,” said Justine. “Capitulate. Don’t even bother. Give up.”

Wellson scoffed once more. “I do not wish to swing for this,” he said.

“They’d probably behead you, quite frankly,” she said.

“Yeah...”

Justine shook her head. “That’s neither here nor there,” she said. She kicked at the stain on the floor. “The point is, you gather all those affected, you tell them the nature of your problem, and all those who love you will forgive you.”

“You were never very forgiving,” said Wellson.

“You never did me wrong,” she retorted.

“Fair,” he said.

“I’ll even cook,” she said.

The offer made him pause. “You want to see June again, don’t you?”

Justine remained stone faced. “I want to help my friend. I want to save your life, like you did mine.”

“And your solution is dinner...”

“Sure. Invite interested parties, give out presents, tell people what happened... you’re a god damned hero, did you know that? A fucking hero. And if they’re going to lock you up for that — no, kill you! — for the things that enabled your heroism?” She snorted. “Clearly, they don’t value you.”

Wellson thought about it for awhile. “I need to be honest with you,” he said.

“That’s all you ever are, boss,” she said.

“I tried to strangle Quai,” he said.

Justine did not hesitate to slap his face. Hard. And then: “Why?”

Wellson dropped his hand from his cheek. “I do not know,” he said, bracing for another smack. “I was asleep when it happened.”

Justine’s incensed eyes softened. “Yeah, that happened to me a few times,” she allowed. “Eternally single, and all.”

“And here I thought it was because of your predilection for younger —”

She smacked him a second time.

Wellson lowered his hand. “Ok, I deserved that.”

“It’s good to see some things just don’t change,” she said, walking toward the cabinet in which her rifle was secured. “You’re still as irritating as before.”

Wellson shrugged. “I try,” he said.

“You don’t need to try — you’re just a prick.”

At this, they both laughed. He knew she was correct, just as he knew she was aware that she was correct, too. He watched her as she disappeared down the long hallway, and into her room.

“Where are you going?” he shouted after her.

Justine poked her head around the corner. “I need more than just a gun for Winter Veil, don’t I?” she asked. “Besides, I’m taking first watch. You need your sleep.”

“I don’t mind sleeping outside,” he said. He crossed the threshold, walking outside, toward the windmill. Justine would join him in a moment. Just like old times.

( @quai-mason @justinegrotius @juniper-rose-blower // @enigmatic-elegance @coldwall-collective )