#we bring in enough to pay all the workers decent money

[life-of-eris]

I just did some quick math and the motherfuckers I work for pay me literally exactly enough so that I don't qualify for medicaid. Bastards.

[dreamcubed]

daylight | harry potter x reader

song; daylight [taylor swift] pairing; harry potter x ministry worker!single mother!fem!hufflepuff!reader genre; s2l, fluff, angst word count; 4,4k timeline; post-second wizarding war warnings; references to abusive ex (verbal, emotional, baby-trapping), y/n has trust issues, references to poverty summary; after providing for yourself and your two sons alone for so long, you were foreign to the concept of help, and the last person you expected to receive it from was the infamous boy who lived

masterlist

"i once believed love would be burning red, but it's golden."

————————————————

Now both your sons were in school, you were finally able to take on a full-time job and bring more money in. It had been immensely difficult being limited to only a low-paying part time job for the last five years, but you had needed flexible hours due to your lack of support system when it came to raising your boys. They were a year apart, at four and five, and their father hadn't been in the picture since the third trimester of the youngest's pregnancy.

Your family had turned their backs to you after you fell pregnant so young, out of wedlock, and without a decent job. And Merlin knows your baby daddy's family wanted absolutely nothing to do with you.

It was a shame, because your academics were good, and you had received excellent scores in both your OWLs and NEWTs, originally having big plans for your career. Then your boyfriend at the time baby-trapped you, just to abandon you anyway.

But now your sons were both old enough to enrol in muggle primary school, which was unusual for magic families to do, but it gave you the opportunity to get a better job and create a better life for the both of them. Merlin knows you were too busy to adequately homeschool them in the years before Hogwarts, anyway.

"Well, Miss L/N, you seem more than qualified," the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in the Ministry of Magic said to you, "Typically we only have freshly graduated applicants for such positions, though."

"Does that dampen by chances?"

"Not at all," she shook her head, "I see no reason not to hire you, unless there's something you need to tell me?"

You bit your tongue, deciding to not let her on to the fact you had two sons to take care of all by yourself. "No, ma'am."

"Well, perfect. Your hours would be from 8am til 5pm with forty-five minutes paid lunch break that you can take between noon and 2pm."

The hours were long, but you had already signed up your sons for their school's breakfast club every morning, as well as a different extra-curricular after school every day. Thankfully apparition would likely mean you would only be a minute or two late for pick-up.

"When can you start?"

"Immediately," you smiled.

***

While you worked in the department responsible for aurors, you would not be out in the field yourself at any point. You were simply responsible for distributing tasks and filling out and filing the reports after missions. Once upon a time you had wanted to be an auror, but now you had sons who would have no one else if something were to happen to you. You simply couldn't endanger yourself in any way.

The pay of your job was good: good enough to support a family of three and move you out of the one bedroom flat you lived in. You would wait a couple months until you were settled into the job, though, as you still needed to pay off the boys' uniforms and school lunches.

You were sat at your desk on the second day of your job, busy filling out forms for a small mission that had taken place earlier that morning. Ever since Voldemort's demise, there hadn't been any large scale missions. You supposed that was a good thing.

"Oh, you're new."

You looked up in surprise to see the Boy Who Lived stood before you, evidently having just returned from a mission as an auror.

He gave you an awkward smile, "Harry Potter."

You nodded mindlessly with your mouth slightly agape, before coming to your senses and saying, "Y/N. Y/N L/N."

"Nice to meet you."

"You too."

"How long have you worked here?"

"It's my second day."

"Wow, so you're, like, brand new?"

"I... I guess?"

"Let me know if you need anythi-"

"Potter," your supervisor's voice rang out, "My office."

"Shit, sorry, I have a mission debrief to give, we'll talk later?" he said, somewhat hopefully.

"Yeah, later..." you trailed off, staring after him as he walked to the office.

***

It was the end of the day, and you were packing up your belongings ready for your departure at exactly five o'clock.

"Y/N," a person called.

You turned around to see Harry Potter stood before you once more.

"Sorry I didn't have a chance to catch up with you after earlier," he said, "But, uh, do you think... do you think maybe we could go for a drink? It's important to have friends at work, after all."

You were in shock, but still answered, "I'd love to, really - but I have places to be today, I'm afraid."

"Tomorrow night, then?"

"I'm busy then too," you said apologetically.

"Okay, then when are you free?"

Great, now you were going to sound like a massive dick. "Rarely, unfortunately, I have a... chaotic family, you see."

"Right, well... see you tomorrow then."

Yep. He definitely thought you were making up excuses.

***

"I'm not too late, am I?" you asked the teacher that had been supervising the football club your sons had been attending.

"No, the other last kid just left moments ago," he smiled at you.

"Oh, thank Helga," you said without thinking.

The man frowned at your exclamation, but didn't say anything about it.

"Matty, Eric, are you boys ready to go?" you turned to your sons, who both nodded tiredly at you. Your heart dropped at how much the long day wore them out.

You led them around the corner from the primary school until you were out of sight from others, where you apparated to outside your small apartment. Upon entering, you gazed at the cramped space: you couldn't wait to upgrade to a bigger one.

"What's for dinner, mama?" your youngest, Eric, asked.

"I'll cook some pasta, yeah? And then I'll read you a story."

You couldn't fail them. They had to have a different life to you.

***

You didn't see Harry Potter at work again for the next two weeks, as he had been sent on a slightly larger auror mission abroad. But, when he did return, you ran into him almost instantly.

"How was the mission?" you asked immediately.

"Fine," he said dismissively, "Look, I'm sorry for asking you for drinks last time, you clearly didn't want to-"

"No, it's not that I don't want to," you said quickly.

"You don't have to lie to be nice, I shouldn't have asked something like that so soon after meeting you."

You sighed, "I'm not lying, I really am just an exceptionally busy person."

"Busy with what exactly?"

"I- I can't talk about it."

"You-"

That was when the ringing of your mobile phone cut through the air, making you jump slightly. You took the tiny flip phone out of your pocket and exhaled harshly at the sight of who it was. This was exactly why you had bothered getting a phone as a witch, you had just hoped it wouldn't happen so soon

"Sorry, I have to take this."

You began walking away as you answered.

"Hello, Y/N L/N speaking."

"Hello, this is Emily from St Andrew's Primary School," the woman on the other end spoke, "I'm calling on behalf of your son, Eric."

"What happened?"

"He... exhibited peculiar behaviour during a lesson today."

"Why? What did he do?"

"He made a classmate float in the air."

Your breath hitched, "That's not possible."

"I assure you, I'm being quite honest."

"Is this a prank call?" you asked. You knew it wasn't.

You didn't want the Ministry to find out you had enrolled wizards into muggle school. It was advised against for a reason, as they had enough on their plates when it came to dealing with the chaos muggle-borns caused. But, they would have already detected the use of improper magic and sent people to deal with it.

"I-"

"Y/N L/N," a man to your left said.

"If you excuse me," you spoke to the caller, hanging up. They would just think you still thought them a prankster. "Yes?"

"Simon Periwink of the Improper Use of Magic sector, can you come with me please?"

You sighed, "Is this regarding my son?"

He nodded.

"Lead the way."

***

"So as you seem to know, your son, Eric L/N, has caused a bit of a conundrum in a muggle school," Simon said, sat behind his desk with crescent moon glasses perched on his nose, "Now, he is a child, so obviously he will not be facing any consequences for this action. However, I am obliged to ask, why is he in a muggle school?"

"I don't have a choice, sir."

"Just Simon is fine- elaborate, please."

"I'm a single mother to two boys. My family abandoned me after my first pregnancy and my boyfriend upped and left during my second," you explained, although you didn't want to talk about it, "I can't afford childcare - muggle school is free and my only option."

Simon hummed, flicking through pieces of parchment, "I see. Well, I won't prevent this then - thanks to muggle-borns, we're well equipped to deal with these situations. Please, though, talk to your sons about this."

"Yes, sir- Simon. Thank you."

"We also have many support systems in place in the ministry to aid people in similar situations to yourself. Please consider looking into them."

"I will, thank you again."

"No worries - I suppose you should go and pick up your son for now."

You nodded.

***

By the time you arrived at the primary school, you saw that members of the ministry were already there - and, to your horror, Harry Potter.

He quickly spotted you, and raised a confused eyebrow.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of y-"

"Mama!" your son, evidently in tears, called out. He ran from the ministry member that was comforting him into your arms; you didn't hesitate to pick up your son.

Harry watched as the situation unfolded, piecing everything together in his head, before saying, "They were a member short in the improper use department, so I offered to fill in. Is this your son?"

You hummed, rocking the sobbing boy about.

"I didn't know you were-" he cut himself off, "If I had, I wouldn't have asked you out."

You sighed, "I am single."

"Oh."

"Sorry for hurting your feelings, but I think I need to go pick my other son up too," you said, "Please don't mention this to anyone."

He showed his agreement through an absent-minded nod.

"Bye."

He stared after you as you walked away.

***

After a long chat with both of your sons about resorting to muggle methods in the face of problems instead of magic methods, you reluctantly returned to work the next day, dreading the next interaction between you and Harry Potter. Why was a literal celebrity even working a normal day job anyway?

Taking in a deep breath, you sat down at your desk to begin working your way through the stack of paperwork your manager had already left for you. Just when you had almost forgotten about the man who now knew your biggest work secret, you heard a cough for attention coming from in front of you.

You looked up and saw the exact person you didn't want to see.

"Hey, I just wanted to check up on you after... yesterday."

"Why?"

He seemed taken aback by your response, "Well, you know, I... care about you?"

"You hardly know me," you said pointedly.

"And I would like to change that."

"Potter!" a voice called from the hallway, "Where are you?"

"Coming!" he replied, giving a lingering glance to you but realising you were already focused on your work again.

You felt mean, and you thought he was cute, you just didn't want him to get attached to the mess that you were.

***

"L/N, I need you to stay late today to discuss your progress," your manager said to you later that day, "Don't worry, it's nothing negative."

"Late? Respectfully, I can't do overtime."

"It's hardly overtime. Half an hour, maximum."

"Yes, but-"

"What plans do you have that are so important you must leave exactly at five o'clock?" she raised an eyebrow at you.

"I-" you froze. Should you be honest?

"Y/N," Harry Potter.

You turned away from your manager to the man, pleased at the distraction.

"I can take care of the errand you need to run," he said simply, "It's no bother."

"You can't-"

"Well, it's settled then," your manager smiled, "See you at five in my office."

Once she had walked away, you turned to Harry with a scowl.

"I could've handled that myself!"

"You clearly don't want to admit to the situation," he shrugged, "I'll go pick up your boys, don't worry."

You sighed, "I'll have to call the school to let them know."

"No worries, where should I take them? Back to yours?"

"No!" you quickly said, a little too quickly.

"I'm not gonna judge your living quarters, Y/N."

"Just- I... fine. Fine. Take them back to mine. I'll write down the address for you."

As you handed the paper over, you admitted defeat.

"Thank you, Harry, for this."

"It's my pleasure."

***

You were severely hoping that you hadn't made a stupid decision in trusting Harry with your most prized jewels. He had to be trustworthy, you reasoned, he risked his own life to save the entire world from a horrible and cruel man, after all. As you reached the door to your flat, you took a deep breath before knocking twice. You had given the key to Harry earlier on.

The door quickly flung open to reveal the Boy Who Lived with Eric on his shoulders, who was giggling in a manner you had never seen him before.

"Mama!" he exclaimed, along with his brother, who was by Harry's leg.

"I must admit, I'm normally bad with children," he said as you hugged Matty in greeting.

"Coulda fooled me," you replied, entering the flat.

"Right, I'll get going then-"

Your boys both began complaining, Matty even running from your arms to cling on to Harry's leg again.

You sighed, looking up at the man, "Stay for dinner?"

***

Somewhere along the way, after helping you put your sons to bed, an old bottle of fire whiskey in the back of your cupboard had been cracked open and you were sat on the sofa with Harry Potter, drunker than him because you hadn't had the chance to drink in years.

"Do you really do this all by yourself?" he eventually asked, after a laughing fit from the both of you.

"Do what?"

"Everything. Work, chores, raising your sons. Do you have no help at all?"

You shook your head, "Their father took off during my second pregnancy, haven't heard from him since. As you can tell, I was young when I first fell pregnant, so neither of our families wanted anything to do with us."

"But- no friends?"

"I used to have friends," you sighed, "But I kinda lost them when I started dating Derran. He isolated me a lot. Never had the chance to remake them."

He hummed, "I'm sorry that happened to you - really. I'm happy to be your first friend."

You smiled.

"And more, if you'll let me."

"Really? Thing One and Thing Two haven't put you off?"

He chuckled, "No, not yet, they haven't."

"I don't know if I have the time for dating," you said, picking at your fingernails, "I'm struggling to keep all my plates spinning as it is."

"I understand that dating you would mean a lot of time with the boys."

"Really? Do you? We'd have no date nights."

"I'm prepared to make that sacrifice."

"I don't think you are," you said simply, "Anyway, this has been fun, but I should really get to bed. Are you good to get home or should I-"

"I'm fine to get home, don't worry about me," he said, standing up.

And as you showed him out the door, shutting it behind him, he paused and turned back to look at the spot where he just saw you, meanwhile you rested your back against the wooden frame on the other side, feeling a painful longing in your chest.

***

Saturday morning started like it normally did: a later start with both your boys waking up in your arms. It was as routine up until you all entered the main room ready for breakfast.

A knock arrived on the door.

You frowned, and told the boys to sit at the table before heading over and peering through the peephole. To your surprise, you saw Harry stood patiently outside. Opening the door, you questioned his presence with a simple furrowing of your eyebrows, when you caught sight of the bags he was holding either side of him.

"I hope I'm not here too early," he said, taking in your pyjama-clad presence.

"No- no... we just weren't expecting you," you replied, allowing him in.

"Harry!" your boys called, running over to cling to his legs.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," he shrugged, placing the bags on the kitchen counter, "Hello, Eric, Matty."

"A surprise?"

He hummed, "I brought some basic foods- including ingredients for chocolate chip pancakes."

Eric and Matty cheered.

"That's sweet but- but we don't need handouts."

"Then don't think of it as one," he said simply, "This is simply a man doing something for the woman he has romantic interest in."

You sighed, unable to stop a smile from creeping on to your face.

"Are you our new dad?" Eric asked, making you snap your head in his direction.

Harry was evidently at a loss for words.

"I've always wanted a dad," Matty added. Despite having been alive for when your ex-boyfriend was still around, he had no memory of him. Not that the memories would have been good ones, anyway.

"It depends if your mum lets me date her or not," Harry stated.

"Mama, please!"

"Please, mama!"

"I don't think you know us well enough to make a commitment," you said to Harry, ignoring your sons for the time being.

"Yeah, because you won't let me get to know you," he argued, but without malice, "Is it so hard to believe I genuinely want this?"

"Yeah, it is," you said, "After-" you nodded your head towards the boys, communicating your reference to their father.

"Let me prove it to you," Harry said, to both you and the boys, "What say after breakfast, we head to Diagon Alley and make a day of it?"

The boys began cheering, though you knew all too well they had no idea what Diagon Alley was.

You pulled Harry aside and began whispering, "I've never taken them there. I don't want to get their hopes up by seeing all the things in the shops and not being able to get any of it."

"I'm paying," he reassured you, "For anything they want- that you approve of, of course."

"But-"

"No buts. I told you, I'm proving this to you."

You sighed, admitting defeat, "Okay. Fine."

"Now, let's get the pancakes on," he announced loudly.

***

You watched your sons excitedly run around Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, unable to take the smile off your face. Part of you was overjoyed that they were finally getting some experience of a normal wizardly childhood; the other part of you was upset that it wasn't really you that had provided the experience.

"I think they like the place," Harry said from his place next to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I've never seen them so happy."

"Don't think you're a failure as a mother or anything," he added, "You're far from it."

You smiled, "I know I'm doing my best, but they deserve more."

He didn't reply to that statement, instead wrapping his arm around your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Maybe, just maybe, you should let him in.

***

After that day, things fell into a new routine. Any day that Harry wasn't on an auror mission, he would show up at your flat with dinner ingredients not long after you had gotten home with your sons. Together, you would cook the meal, and then sit and eat. On Saturdays, he would take you and the boys somewhere for the day, always insisting on paying if there was an associated cost. He had even on one Sunday insisted that he babysit the boys so you could get your first bit of lone time in years. You had treated yourself to some rest and relaxation in a spa.

You had become very comfortable with his presence, but at there same time there was this constant tension between the two of you, like something was going to snap at any given moment. You almost wanted it to.

It was after dinner one night, and you were putting Eric and Matty to bed with Harry, just having finished reading their bedtime story.

"Goodnight, my loves," you said, kissing each of their heads, and tucking them in, "I'll be here to join you shortly."

"Night, mama."

"Goodnight, mama."

"Goodnight, boys," Harry said, "I should hopefully be here again tomorrow."

"Goodnight," your eldest, Matty, said tiredly.

"Night night, dad," your youngest, Eric, mumbled.

You stilled in shock, but didn't say anything since he was drifting off to sleep, instead glancing at Harry to gage his reaction. He had a slight smile on his face, which admittedly filled you with a sense of warmth. Nonetheless, when you were back in the kitchen charming the dishes to begin washing, you decided to talk about it.

"Thank you, Harry."

"For what?"

"Everything you have done for us the last few weeks," you said, "And I'm sorry Eric called you dad."

"I don't mind," he quickly said, "But I understand if you mind."

"I don't mind... but I don't want them to get hurt."

Next thing you knew, Harry's hand was on yours, "I'm not leaving."

"That's an easy thing to say."

"Y/N, I-" he cut himself off, pausing for a moment to think, "Have dinner at my house on Saturday - bring the boys, obviously."

You frowned, "Are you sure?"

"I'm always sure."

You couldn't help but chuckle at that, "Okay, we'll be there."

***

On Saturday evening, you apparated outside Harry's cottage in Godric's Hollow with your sons holding a hand either side of you. This was your first time seeing his house, and it was absolutely gorgeous: large, too. From what he had told you, he had been born in this house, but it was also where his parents had died tragically.

You let Eric and Matty run ahead to knock on the front door, which was a classic medieval-style shape. All too quickly, it swung open to reveal Harry dressed up in dress trousers and a button up shirt, with the top button left undone. You were glad that you had opted for a more dressed up look yourself - you had gotten the feeling that this was a fancier occasion than usual.

"Hello, boys," he greeted your sons, hugging both of them before standing up straight, "And, hello, Y/N." He seemed even more awkward than normal, making you confused.

He beckoned you all in and through to the dining room, where a delicious spread was billowing steam throughout the room.

"I wish I could take full credit- Molly helped quite a bit," you knew Molly to be his best friend's mother, "But I wanted this to be perfect."

"Why?" you asked, "I mean- it is, but why?"

"Because it's for you," he said.

You held prolonged and tension-filled eye contact with him for a few moments, before your attention was diverted by your boys jumping about excitedly.

"I think they're hungry," Harry laughed, "Sit down, sit down."

You all sat around the table, and you scolded your sons for not showing good manners and trying to dig in right away.

"Not to make you wait too much longer, boys, but I would like to say something first," Harry said, taking in a deep breath, "When I first met you, Y/N, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me- because you rejected me."

You chuckled.

"And that was quite a blow to my ego, so it was certainly relieving to learn that it wasn't me that was the problem- not that there really was a problem. You are simply an amazingly independent woman who didn't want people to know about her two incredible sons, for some insane reason," he said with a grin, making your cheeks heat up, "And I know it's hard for you to accept that I genuinely do want to be with you given everything you've been through."

You started to get a feeling of what was about to happen.

"And I know that being with you means being with your sons as well," he continued, "But I need you to know that it's far from a chore for me to take them in as my own - so, I have to ask, even though it may seem too soon, will you marry me?"

Tears pricked at your eyes as Matty and Eric gasped, them both being old enough to understand what marriage meant.

"You'll be our dad?" Eric asked, his eyes shining hopefully.

"Well, if your mum says yes."

"Mama, please say yes!" your youngest begged.

His older brother joined in, "Please, mama!"

"Okay," you said, sniffling, "I'll marry you, Harry Potter."

It was then, as Matty and Eric were cheering about having a dad, that Harry pushed a small velvet box across the table, and you opened it to reveal a yellow gold band with a ruby stone set in the centre.

"It's- it's beautiful."

Harry beamed at you as you put it on and admired its place on your ring finger.

"Can we eat now?" Matty asked.

"Yes, yes, we can eat," you said through happy sobs.

"And, after dinner, you two can pick your new bedrooms."

Your eyes widened in shock as Matty exclaimed, "We get our own bedrooms?!"

—————————————————

masterlist

written; 01/05/2023 —> 05/06/2023 published; 06/06/2023 edited; —/—/——

taglist ; @workinatdapyramid @iluvweasleys

[the-firebird69]

And we do imagine us being completely with this this week and we have to get going the Northwest needs attention and so a lot of equipment and it's very heavy and we have a ways to go to travel to get it there and the Delta too we want to get that done and we're not done in the band yet so we're calling on people to help. In the east there's a couple areas where pulling them out of two and we're about 60% done no it's 30%. That's just not that much there but we need it out and we need personnel right now this is a damn big job now we're helping them move and we're telling them where to go and what to do and fixing it and getting ready and we have some of them doing it and what he says is to train them and to get them the equipment and the materials and items to move with trucks and tell them where and what time and have them do it and basically we're not really doing it that way he wants to go in and have their own people sit them in a class and explain what's going on and their leaders of clans and things and then have them get all their things ready and we'll have moving trucks and storage we have a ton of storage and we'll just shrink wrap their stuff in a pallet and label it's theirs and they said that's good because then they can move their house and with palletize it and we'll have them do that and each community has their own Warehouse system right now they're moving to temporary housing and we're getting this going it's pretty big it's a matter of fact it's huge we do have a lot of people wondering what we're up to but this is a massive move we are in receipt of a lot of threats from it but that's too bad and the gating them we are negating threats equipment is moving today and it moved all day yesterday during the day I'm at night spaceships go up but during the day there's a huge amount of trucks going back and forth it is people relocating and he wants to have them a lot more involved in a safer and we're going to help too so he says that we can get them to do most of the work and they're kind of are and it's not true so we're going to start having them drive their trucks and we'll bring trucks in if they need them we're going to start that kind of thing right now and we do see what he's going to say we won't it's taken too long because we're not having them organize and check out what's happening so it goes easier and smoother and faster and then go ahead and do it now that's what they're doing and we can relocate their actual apartments and it's starting to sound better they say so we'll get a little organized and we'll have team leaders for each area and they'll set up meetings for their people and we will make sure they have enough equipment and moving equipment and we can supplement movers but will put out notices and we're going to be paying them a decent amount by the way and for a factory workers he wants each factory to set up a program and that's us and we're going to kind of own the company sort of if we make money at the factory and he wants relocation expenses paid and he wants people to have relocation money on top of it and items for them to use to make it and we get that we have areas that are temporary housing and we're going to have to have a system because right now it's just a big open area and he says find something that's rolled that you can unroll and support and we see what he's saying it takes way too long to build out of practically an either even plywood it would take too long and it would be too tough but put something out that's got a layer to it like industrial carpeting I'll make people sick but something like that and people get it too you're very fast I'll put up some kind of panel and that's what he said a panel would be good. We need this in right now we need this program to work so we can have a quick meeting and get it set up

Thor Freya

This is a stupendous idea everybody from each factory will be organizing the team leaders for their people their neighborhoods and work at that particular place and they all get together and a plan to move their stuff and their people and plan what warehouse to store that and will be hiring workers using the team leaders each plant will probably have 20 or 30 and those people will be in charge of assisting everybody and making sure they all know where to go and how to get there and that they can get there and they can get their stuff there if they don't have a car that works they will find someone who does or will provide buses we're going to work it out today with everybody needs and we're going to get them out of there and we're going to relocate them and we're going to start relocating their housing their actual apartments they were in and we do know how to do that and we're going to start doing it and we need people to volunteer for the service right now we have people outside but we need a lot of people and this was slowing us down and we have to hire people right now and we need it for the military and he says to start hiring people for the northwest and for the manufacturing and we're going to do that and for my stuff but really we are getting going right now

Savage oppress

This sounds really weird need this and need consumer goods. Don't have enough ever and we're running a little constantly in your in trouble and we need soap and shampoo and all sorts of things and we had a huge stockpile and it's going to run out and they're going to start manufacturing this week of necessities and the others said they did already and a whole bunch of videos came out now they're having problems with these idiots and we don't want you around anymore You don't do anything we have a huge enemy down there you're running around f****** ass up and other people and we're hardly going to make it as these and it's all of our arms attacked now and we might not do anything to them and your s*** has until an understanding that and you're all delusional thinking you have AI and we can't stand you anymore David and his wife did it on purpose cuz that's all they had It wasn't the best plan cuz they're super intelligent and their claim is almost gone I mean you're stupid as hell everyone's sick of you cuz the stupid s*** you're doing The kids stand any of you. This is a great program I've got my guys wanted out there and they're amazed they said these people want to help and they're helping and they're moving things and they're moving it fast and they're getting it done and they're getting people out and a lot of them are us and they're amazed they want this new program and they want it now they want to be noticed the ones helping and they want to have control and they said they're going to provide us with trucks and buses and they need moving trucks and they're going to get warehouses going and he says it will be great to have some help from Michael too and he's the one saying it's some of it and he says I got to go out there and hop and it says we need to organize and he says he wants us to talk to him from the companies we'll have meetings today and he agrees and it's because they want to make sure there's a connection there to make sure they can get what they need and he wants to set up the pay system and the money to move and it'll be a lot easier so now this is going to help cuz other companies will step up and be able to help and they're going to supplement because this is terrible

Mac daddy

We're going to get out there and get moving and we have people too and we know what to do and we do see what you're saying they're moving a factory more or less and an area and we move people out and move all of them there's other people there but they do support jobs like mailman and people that work to the local grocery store and we're going to have to relocate them and the grocery store so I'm laughing and saying you're right so that's a good thing we have people who are in charge of that and we'll have to liaison and move them too so it'll be a huge effort but the idea is very clearly brought across with the factory that you're moving these people on purpose and it's responsibility of the factory that's a good idea but really the whole community needs to be moved and it's us and we're going to start helping cuz it was going a little weird slowly

Daniel

We have a lot of stuff going on and this guy Trump is being a jerk this morning I need to get in there and help my people and he's saying to do so and we need to liaison cuz we're moving the stuff apartments in buildings any season and the system sounds great and we're going to work with it and he said you can have for each well the more or less township or borough of the city you'll have a meeting place and you set it up in a gymnasium or a conference center for people to come and to help schedule them in to relocate and it will be different groups and different companies we can have like a Italy a job fair almost but it's not for jobs so I like that idea and he'll be there too getting stuff to get us to move and we have temporary shelters going up and they do too and we are going to move a lot of people but this is a good idea this organize it and to have a center so people can go there and a phone number and a leaflet and we're going to start doing this now

Tommy a

Well that was valuable we need to do it too if no where stinkers will have to figure out how to get a stuff over there and he says he can put us in the slum because we think we're winning it's not a bad idea but would have to move you too so you don't cause trouble but we need to do actual work s bothering us but we have factories that we're at and would you need to move them and we realize you're moving those to a protected area so we're going to have to sit down and figure out where to go to we have smaller factories and they are being moved and we might make our own City we do need to make stuff and he's going to have them think about it

Trump

These guys are making stuff but they're making it to try and bomb people and we know what they're up to and if they want to move they're going to have to move to their own place and we don't necessarily want them out there and to East and it's because of what they're doing and they're not building a damn thing and it's all the trumps and people know about it and they quit so right now and not helping them and if they find a place to go that we would be amazed they might move to the South they've been talking about that and a lot of things did but we are not going to let them take the factories only small crappy ones because those are ours big ones and we don't want them around so he wants us to hire a security Force and we went to label it it's like a Red Cross security for us or something and the guys are agreeing and we're going to move using it and we think Trump tries to get people back later and seasons doing it and it's really the national guard we're moving out and these ideas are great and helpful we're going to use them now

Thor Freya

Olympus

[msfbgraves]

Capitalism speedrun

I have nothing to go on to support my opinion but some everyday observations and yet. I feel like capitalism is somehow accelerating? Ever more profit for ever fewer inhumanly rich people made by ever fewer megacorporations who have already colonised the entire world. The 'products' and so called 'services' they put out are being worse sometimes even after they have been sold. If indeed they have been sold and not merely leased. Newspapers are also owned by corporations, so whether or not they report any resembling facts can only be ascertained by extensive fact checking and or compairing of sources. The Internet is a group of maybe six social mediums being mined for data to be put into machines to completely replace the cost of human labour. Regardless whether or not anyone wants this. They control the entire supply of raw materials on the market, so you'll take what they give you and you'll like it. They'll decide of you're exploitable enough to be allowed survival, and if not, you can go and die. Those exploitable enough are so overworked or underpaid, that they won't have any initiative, ideally, to make anything or do anything outside of this system of exploitation. And they're not hiding it. "Cereal for dinner!"

I know capitalism as we know it has always run on extraction on a planet that is built for feeding things back into it. Anyone with the slightest bit of interest can see that since the planet's resources are finite when not replenished, at some point there is nothing left to mine. Similarly, if you mistreat peole until they die, you won't even have the workers left to build your robots. They've been trying to combat this problem with AI, because seemingly, a planet full of dead forests and dead people save your few slaves is a nice place to live on. "Ah, no," they cry. "But we'll simply colonise Mars next!"

I'm not sure whether they think that this will fly unopposed, or that they're trying to extract the last riches until in 20 years all the boomers will be dead and those left can rebuild another system on the ashes of this one.

Because they can't be trying to keep the status quo alive. If they were, they would have had to start feeding back into the system. Whether that is by being decent to people or renurturing soil. The boomers are selling their very own grandkids because even with their money, your flooded Malibu beach house is not a nice place to stay.

So far, most people angry with this have been doing what they're supposed to do, namely vote for fascism. But that'll only bring war and more destruction. But so far, every act of human cruelty and natural disaster has only ever led to more cruelty. A global pandemic? Let's jack up the price of healthcare! And attack Ukraine, disrupting global food security. Which, you know, is an excellent incentive to raise the price of food! Don't talk about petrol/gasoline, because that's been at a record high so long that people don't even blink anymore. So what if they simply don't heat their house in winter? And while the world is busy with Ukraine, let's play "genocide, what genocide?" again; the last time we did that was 1994. We're due another round, yeah?

It's not even for the money or the power anymore. They must be partying on the vulcano for the thrill of it. Do they want to see the world burn? Are those shareholders this dead inside?

Because they're being mean for the sake of it even if it is actively detrimental to them. The WGA strike, with $500 mln in losses, only not to have to pay the $47 mln originally demanded. They're scraping Tumblr for data because they've been everywhere else even though everyone can tell you nobody wants to get a Goncharov synopsis when they're looking for Martin Scorcese's work. But it hasn't been exploited yet and so it must be.

They've spent the last two decades telling us that evil is really complex actually, and rooted in trauma. Those cartoon villains were there to illustrate the concept to elementary schoolers, but real villainy is actually almost heroic.

No it isn't. It is exactly as shortsighted and as banal as it has always been depicted, or that's we're all experiencing in real time.

I'm so scared. I am as scared of being crushed by capitalism as being crushed by the inevitable fallout of this.

If it all blows up within the next five years, where are all these billionaires even going to go? Cuba? Africa? If the banks topple there won't even be any money anymore. Do they really not think about that? Is it fun living in underground bunkers? Or don't they think that far...?

[top10estateagentsuk]

How to Find a Flat in London?

A Complete Guide to securing the best flats in London for yourself

It can be the soaring real estate market or the growing need to find yourself more than just a “decent enough” accommodation, finding a flat in London is no episode of DIY SOS. You won’t have professional home-building crews buzzing your doorbell anytime soon, but what you can have is a meticulous theory to hunting down the perfect flat for yourself. London real estate is considered to be one of the most ballooning industries of all time with the steep rent often discouraging many a hard-worker from investing ample time or effort into digging up the right dirt. However, we have researched some of the most successful ways people have hunted down the perfect abode for themselves, and if you find yourself in the middle of a similar quest, this streamlined piece is a must-read for you.

DON’T BUDGE FROM YOUR BUDGET

Your budget for the entire ordeal is quite possibly the very first thing you should consider when it comes to finding the perfect flat. London’s real estate has never been any steeper and it shows. However, that does not mean you can’t get to live in a dream flat. The key to budget control is to have a clear idea of exactly how much you are willing to spend on your flat. You can be looking for a permanent solution to a luxurious stay or simply look at renting options that seem feasible enough, but either way going out of your budget always seems to be a bad idea. You wouldn’t want your sporadic decisions of the present projecting tough times for you in the future. Experts reveal, housing costs in London can be as high as 50% of your net take home and that’s why a strict budget range can save you a good deal of your time. Select your budget range and keep that in the forefront always as you go about selecting your preferred flat.

ITSY BITSY INDULGENCES

While you may have a fixed budget that you don’t want to budge from, you need to consider all the other miscellaneous expenses you might incur during the flat finding process. In fact, these small expenses continue even after you’ve secured the flat for yourself and hence, some rainy day money on the side would be good for you. You wouldn’t want to miss out on the deal of a lifetime.

HOMEWORK TIME

Take your homework seriously before you head out. We are not talking about having a brief overview of the housing market, but an elaborate portion of knowledge on ‘where and how much’. The first thing to consider when you’re looking for a flat is the competitive price range that is currently trending in the market. Some peeps end up paying £640 with additional £80-100 on bills while some settle for £500-550. However, these are strictly based on the area you want to inhabit and that brings us to the second part of our Homework Time. Your primary research should be encircling two broad questions- the place you want to stay and the number of people you’ll be accommodating with you. These two variable factors can change how you look at budgeting and areas. To give you a head start on the factors people frequent when they are looking for a flat, we have rounded up a few factors in our next point that you might want to consider.

Lifestyle Choices

Keep your way of living in mind before settling down for a flat. The first thing to consider when looking for a flat is the ease of convenience and that includes not just grocery stores and chemists in and around the area, but also distance from a place you frequent, readily available mode of transport, and more. Start by choosing the Zone of your choice. Usually, zone 1 to 4 is pretty conveniently located close to the Central London Tube Stations but the further you go from zone 1, the less feasible transportation seems. Once you finalize your preferred zone, you can zero in on the area to inhabit. Parallel to this should be your consideration of the number of flat sharers you would want to live with. Just remember, with the flat prices and the rents soaring higher and higher, the more the merrier seems just about right, but don’t over-cramp your flat with that given thought. Find out the fine line between flat-sharing and finding your own space and settle down for that.

Now, we move on to the most important question of the hour, with all the research and budgeting at your fingertips, how will you go about the flat finding part?

Flat Finding at the Least Stressful Way Ever

Try Property Websites- Modern problems call for modern solutions and hence when it comes to hunting down the perfect flat in today’s world, the World Wide Web has the answer to your queries. You can often find innumerable online platforms that have a diverse range of flats ready for you to move in. However, there’s a catch. Online is often misleading and we don’t want you putting your efforts in the wrong direction. Hence, we request you to always have a crisp and clear brief about the website you’re frequenting.

Try the local daily- You can even make yourself a regular at the local newsstand where the dailies list up a bunch of available options for you to surf from. With the internet sometimes playing the careless cousin, we would often want to put our faith on something more traditional and concrete, and the local daily could not have been a better place.

Don’t shy away from word of mouth- Sometimes a jewel of a place can just be a stone’s throw away, only if you speak to the right person at the right time. Even though it may sound superfluous or unreliable, often someone close to you may have the answer to what you’re searching for. All we are saying is, don’t dismiss an opportunity of finding out from your friends and acquaintances whether they know of a sudden flat landlord looking for a keen tenant.

Get yourself a Real Estate Agent- Even after everything, if you’re still not satisfied with the place of your choice, we suggest getting in touch with a real estate agent who likes you. Yes! This is important. We have all had our fair share of animosity towards real estate agents but the truth is, whenever a property gets listed on the market, it’s your real estate agent who gets the first dirt on how and what. Even if you don’t like them much, you need to make sure you are one of the first applicants they call before putting the property out on the market once again.

Once you’ve found the flat that you’ve been looking for, there are a few other integral procedures you should complete. This includes checking the place for termites, signs of dilapidation, and so on to make sure you don’t find yourself going over the whole process once again in a few months. If the place you’ve chosen comes with a few existing tenants, make sure you converse with them before saying yes to the place to make sure harmony prevails even after you move in. Apart from there are paperwork and more to be kept in mind, but with the right preparation, this whole process won’t seem so tedious.

[bisexual-horror-fan]

Through The Heart Is The Only Way. Chapter One: "Another Average Night." Poly!Chiffany X FEM! AFAB! Reader.

OH MY GOD! OHMIGOD YOU GUYS! So! Finally! After so long, I am finally at long last starting up another long fic! I have been talking and teasing this for a fucking while and here it is! I am so excited to be starting this, the concept and idea is actually really important to me. I am bisexual and polyamous and most of the poly stuff I have written has had two male presenting people at least, my faveorite kind of poly shit has two women in it though, it is my perfered poly dynamic. Not to mention my writing as well as this fandom has been lacking in WLW content for a long ass while, this is part of me doing my part to correct it and contribute and give me more of the kind of shit I want to see. I can’t wait to see where this project takes me! I hope you all like it. No smut yet but this is me, trust me, we will get there! I can’t wait to delve into Tiffany and Chucky’s characters and explore how I think they would be in a poly relationship, I hope you all dig the ride! Big thanks to @darkestamralime and @hersweetrevenge for some help on what they think about Tiffany’s music taste. Anway, no more slacking, let’s get into it!

—

Rating. SFW. Length. 3K. Charles Lee Ray X Tiffany Ray Valentine X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns. Poly!Chiffany. Warnings. Basically None. Alcohol Consumption. Swearing. Smoking. That’s It.

—

You’d been living in Chicago for a few years. You weren’t born here but once you came here on vacation you kind of fell in love with the place. It was so much bigger than where you lived and grew up, so much more to do, always something going on, nearly endless ways to entertain yourself, way more options for food too. You made the call to move here a few years ago and didn’t look back, very pleased with your decision.

Sometimes you can’t sleep and you don’t have to just stay locked up inside. You can go out and find something to distract you and take up your attention until you get weary enough to trek home and pass out.

In short you felt like moving here is one of the best things you’ve ever done. You have a decent apartment, a good little group of friends, hobbies, your life felt pretty full and complete, and had a job too that worked well with your needs.

As for what that job was, you worked at a nightclub doing some waitressing, you loved that it kept your days mostly free, enjoyed the overall atmosphere, the people you would meet, and the tips were fucking ridiculous. You were damn good at what you did and you looked good doing it too. You could strike up conversation easily, were approachable on the job and a hard worker. The point is that you would go to work and do the damn thing and do it to the best of your ability.

Your hard work was recognized too, you could get shifts easily and weren’t hard up for work or money.

Speaking of, that is what you were gearing up for right now. You were finishing up having dinner, made some pasta, were eating it in front of your tv as you sat on the couch, magazine spread out on the table in front of you that you had been half flipping through. You had a decent day today, a good sleep in, some shopping, cleaning, getting coffee with a friend. If asked you’d describe it as inoffensive and average if not overall pleasant.

You have the news on but aren’t watching it seriously, you think you catch something about the crime rate rising again but you pay it no heed, your attention turning to the clock and you see you need to get a move on to be one time for work. You finish those last few bites before flipping the magazine closed and picking up your remote, you turn off the tv and stand up to bring your bowl to the kitchen. You leave in the sink and set to prepare for work, striding to the bathroom.

Did your make-up, fucked around with your hair, you actually really loved this part. Your work didn’t explicitly have a set dress code other than usually wearing black, you could usually have fun with and play around with different styles and looks. You were in the mood for a glittery metallic kind of moment, the radio you kept in your bathroom on the counter turned on, just enjoying the music as you took your time getting ready.

As soon as your make-up was done and your hair to your liking was pulled up and out of the way, worn in an unmistakably casual kind of fashion, this wasn’t exactly an upscale club that you worked at after all, you headed to your bedroom. You had a section in your closet dedicated to clothes you’d normally wore to work, you pulled out a favoured black dress, some torn tights and heeled boots, the height wasn’t insane but they made your legs look great, it was January in Chicago and there was still a lot of snow and ice to contend with.

You find your way out about five minutes later, jacket and gloves on, purse you used for work slung over your shoulder, taking the stairs quickly before crossing the lobby of your apartment building and out into the cold night air. You suppress a shiver and shove your hands in your pockets, you lived close enough that you didn’t need to take the train and on nice nights you would make the walk but on nights like this where it was so bitter and with the wind chill you’d say fuck it and take the nearest L train to your job.

The train ride is normal, the one home later on a Friday night like this would be different, much rowdier with the party crowd leaving clubs and bars.

By the time you were walking into the club you had been out of the house for only a half hour, you made great time on the commute tonight. You made your way to the back, took off your coat and hung up your bags, started prepping for your shift, greeting co-workers and the like.

The place was a busy club and soon you were waist deep in work.

Running from here to there, doing what you did, playful smiles, easy conversation, flirting a little, naturally, taking orders, serving drinks and of course, racking up those tips.

It was a few hours in and you were really in the swing of it, a tray of empty glasses you had collected from around tables while making another round taking orders, when you see someone you hadn’t previously, he must have just gotten here.

You changed course and walked over, figured you could get his order in and save some time. You came up beside his table and asked with a glance at him, “Hey, could I get you a drink?”

You were surveying the area but his laughing made you turn and get a serious eyeful. Taller than you, long hair, grey suit, black tie and a tan trench coat along with black sunglasses. He turns to look you over as he takes off those sunglasses, “Been here less than ten minutes and someone is already flirting’ with me.”

You laugh a little yourself, you are used to guys like this, attractive, confident and self assured and so you responded easily, “Mmm yeah, I am just dying to get you outta here, but how about that drink first?”

He looked you over as he hummed in consideration, arms crossed casually as he asked, “You got anythin’ really special on right now?”

“Cocktail man, eh? You want me to surprise you?” You ask with a smile and a cock of your head and he confirms as he pocketed those sunglasses, “Sounds good, just make it strong.” He said with a point and you smiled wider in response.

“On it.” You said with a nod before heading off, you could feel him looking at you but you were again used to this, the line of work you did combined with the fact that, hello, you were very attractive, meant that it was standard practice.

You stopped by the bar and put in your orders until you got to him, “Got a guy who wants something strong and special, you think you can handle that?”

The bartender, Logan, nodded and told you, a gesture to himself as he said, “Look who you’re talking to.”

“You’re the man.” You said as you took off to drop off your dirty glasses and wipe your tray down, “You know it!” He called after you.

You had a few minutes before all those drinks would be ready and took the opportunity to hit the bathroom. One thing about this job meant you had to share the same bathroom the customers used, thank God there wasn’t a line at the moment.

After washing your hands in your rush to get back outside you almost crashed into someone about to come into the bathroom. You just managed to stop yourself, hands out and immediately apologising, “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”

“No worries hon, accidents happen.” That voice, you hadn’t heard anything like that before, very husky. One word came to mind to describe it, that word being sultry.

You looked her over, tall heels, fishnet tights, an insanely short and tight skirt and matching top, chunky gothic looking jewellery and a more than an ample amount of cleavage on display. She had her nails done,sharp looking and a deep shade of purple, nice looking makeup too. Clearly skillfully applied, dark lipstick and loose almost messy blonde hair, to sum up, she was hot and well put together and if the way she was standing was any indication, she knew it.

“Right, still, sorry-” She cut you off, an apology for interrupting you as she said, “Sorry, but you work here, right?”

You nodded as you told her, “Yeah I do.”

“Great, can you tell me if the DJ is accepting requests tonight?” She asked and you told her, “Oh of course, yeah we are always taking song requests.”

She shifted her weight from one heel to the other, “Really? Cuz I’ve been here a couple of times and he never takes my requests.” She almost pouted and you wanted to fix that. And not just on an employee wanting to help a customer kind of way.

You had to admit it, she was very attractive and very much your type. Thing was you weren’t exactly out at work and tried to make a point of not getting involved with customers, especially regular ones and she mentioned she’d been here before, you should forget it. She was fucking goregous but you’ve known her for all of two seconds for crying out loud.

You were intent on helping her however.

“He can be a bit funny about that, but you tell me what you want and I will make sure he plays it.” By be a bit funny you meant that he was totally gay, you might have caught him with a busboy after closing one night and were sworn to secrecy. She was a total fucking smokeshow but she wouldn’t have much effect on him if she made an attempt to flirt to get her song played.

The image of her leaning against his DJ booth with her arms under her tits, pushing them out as he coyly asked with that sweet smile for her song to get played flooded your mind.

You quickly push it out,

She brightened at what you had said considerably, she had a great smile, “Thank you so much.”

She gave you the song she wanted and you complimented her on the choice, “Not the usual fare but we all need a good shake up now and then, seriously it’s a good pick. I kinda hate that we only play stuff from this or last year, a throw back is always welcome.”

You meant what you said, it was kind of a deep cut, in comparison to what people usually asked for here anyway, and you were honestly impressed.

She thanked you again and you returned that smile and told her, “No problem.” And you broke away, leaving her behind and going on your way back to work. Before you were out of earshot she called out, “Cute outfit by the way.”

You glanced over your shoulder and saw her looking you over and you almost stopped from the way her eyes were dragging over you. The thought that maybe-

No! No way it was like that, you shook it off and called back, “Thanks! Yours too!”

You kept on your way and sighed before muttering to yourself, “Yours too, fucking be lamer.” Pushing your less than stellar response out of your mind you stop by the DJ booth on your way to the bar and pass along your request to which, Jackson tells you, “Anything for you babe.”

You were practically work best friends, had bonded really heavily after you caught him in the act, nothing brings people together like secrets you don't want getting out.

You thanked him and then made a beeline for the bar, your drinks were ready and you needed to get them out, your little run in at the bathroom put you a bit behind and you needed to play catch up.

This is you we are talking about though, of course you could handle it. Less than ten later your tray was nearly empty again, one last drink to drop off. You come back up to him on the opposite side as you did previously. He had his coat off now, thrown over his arm as he was leaning on the standing table he was at, you set the glass down as you said, “Here you go.”

“I was starting to worry you ran off on me.” He was leaning on one elbow as he scooped up the drink with his other hand.

He was looking at you again and even in the low and flashing lights you could tell he had quite the intense stare, you wished you could tell what colour his eyes were.

Weird. You didn’t normally think that kind of thing about customers. There was something about this guy’s vibe and energy that was clicking with you.

Between the blonde bombshell at the bathrooms and this guy you had no idea what was going on with you tonight, maybe it had been too long since you’ve gotten laid?

You were pulled out of your thoughts when he all but groaned, “Oh fuck.”

A questioning look until you realised that he had tried that drink you had brought him, “Good?” You asked as you rested your drink tray on your hip and he stole another sip before confirming with a nod, “Yeah it is. I have to give it up, you didn’t disappoint.”

You asked, “You a hard guy to impress?” He shrugged with a smile, “Something like that.”

You watched as he started to fish something out of his coat, pack of smokes and a lighter, you watched as he brought one up to his lips and the lighter came up to, a click and nothing. He tries again, nothing, a few more clicks in rapid succession and you see him curse in frustration before you say, “I got you.”

He sees you holding out a lighter of your own, he takes it with a muffled, “Thanks.” spoken around the smoke in his mouth. He lights it on the first try this time and inhales deeply, hand through his hair before removing the cigarette from between his lips, you watch the tension melt out of him as he exhales out the smoke.

“You smoke?” He asked, offering up the pack and you shake your head, he asked with a gesture of his hand, “But you have a lighter?”

“I sure do.” He passes the lighter back and you slip it away into the belt you wore that held your change, pens, notepad and the rest of stuff you’d need on the job. “Never know when a customer will need a light unexpectedly.”

“Fair enough. Prepared, I like that.” He said easily before taking another sip of his drink, you could tell he genuinely liked it and that made you feel good. You took pride in your work even though most wouldn’t. Any job worth doing was worth doing well to you. “Yeah, I take the boy scouts motto to heart.”

He gave a small chuckle to that with a shake of his head, he had a good smile, one of those smiles where he didn’t hide his teeth, unashamed.

You made the decision that you liked him. Hopefully you’d see him around more.

“Anyway, you need anything else, I’m around, enjoy your night.” You said with a small wave as you headed back off to your next task.

He watched you go as he took another drag from his cig.

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, a familiar warm weight pressing into his back, and the song playing changed, he recognized it immediately, Monitor by Siouxsie And The Banshees. He didn’t even need to look over his shoulder to know it was her, he asked, “They finally take one of your requests?”

She rested her chin on his shoulder. “Yeah, I ran into this little sweet thing at the bathrooms who works here, she offered to put it in for me.”

“Sweet thing hmm?” He teased and she confirmed as she reached over and picked up his glass, “Very sweet.” She stole a sip from his cocktail and said in shock, “Oh my God, that is so good.”

“A sweet little thing of my own who works here might have gotten it for me.” He took the glass back from her, there was a smudge of her lip colour on the rim of the glass now, he took a drink from the same place, the lipstick she wore tonight added to the flavour, hard to place, blackberry maybe? He wasn’t sure.

She asked, “Ooo, who? Point her out.” She was squeezing his shoulders and he scanned the room. He found you easily in the crowd taking orders from another table and pointed, she looked where he gestured and she laughed, “No fucking way!”

“What?” He looked at her as she finally let go of him and moved from behind him to be up next to him. “She’s the same one who I met.”

“Really?” He was actually interested and she nodded.

A moment of silence fell over them both. Music pounding from the dance floor across the club, he threw an arm around her shoulders and they both got the same thought although he vocalised it first. “Think we should get the name of that sweet little thing?”

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek before saying, “You read my mind.”

“I’m good at that.” He teased and she wrapped a hand around his tie asking as she pulled on it, “You sure are. Dance with me, Chucky?”

He finished his smoke and stamped it out in the ashtray in the middle of the table before putting his drink down and saying, “Sure, Tiff.”

It was a totally average night by all accounts. You finished work a few hours later, purse full of tips, tired but content on your commute home, and totally unaware that those two entering your life were about to change absolutely everything.

[laverna-fanfictions]

To Be Free - Finn Shelby Imagine

I AM BACK! And I’m back with a long waited request -it was requested at January????-  so here it is, and I’m really sorry for making you wait for it. I combined the two requests together.  I hope you’ll enjoy! And feel free to ask/say anything to me!

Request: @beth-winchester21  Please can I request a finn shelby x reader where I'm esmes younger sister and the shelbys treat me like family and I get really excited for Christmas and everyone finds it hilarious and I end up getting drunk and finn looks after me thanks xx

@beth-winchester21 Hi please can I request a finn shelby x reader where I'm his girlfriend and esmes younger sister and I've known him and his family since I was 3 and they treat me like family and they find out my parents abuse me and make me give them my money and work for them and the shelbys save me from them and can I have a cute moment with finn please thanks x

WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, buying someone from their family, mentions of physical abuse, drunkness.

WORDS COUNT: 1346

   You have been working your ass of because of your parents, they have always treated you as if you were their worker- or slave. Carrying all the wood although your brother always sat at the corner, drinking, and playing card games with his stupid asshole friends. His friends were always mean to you, well “mean” didn’t describe it very well, they were harassing you all the time. Cornering you, pulling your skirt in front of everyone. Your family didn’t care that much, they only cared about your brother because he was a male. Esme was your only escape, and after her marriage John became your haven too.

The Shelby’s were like a family to you. Finn and you were always hanging out, annoying his brothers by the Garrison’s. Eavesdropping their deals, sneaking booze out of the bar, stealing Arthur’s hats and razors. They never once treated you like a stranger, you were like their sister. And that connection became stronger after the marriage between Esme and John.

Finn figured out your situation after you became his girlfriend. He saw how the other boys treated you- how your family did. One night, your father beat you so bad that he broke your arm, gave you a purple eye and almost broke your ribs too. Finn found you fainted at your tent, grabbed you and carried you to John and Esme’s house. Esme was freaking out, cussing every bad word out, throwing shit at the wall while John tried to calm her down. Things were about to turn sideways for your family, you could feel it, but you were too sedated to care at that moment. Polly brought a doctor to help you, the whole Shelby clan was at your side talking about what they were going to do. They couldn’t start another war with your family, that’s why John and Esme became married at the first place.

“I know what to do.” said Finn, still looking extremely mad. His eyes were all dark and dangerous, his eyebrows were still frowned. You could see how stressful he exhaled because of his nostril; they became large with every breath. “What?” Tommy sound angrier, eyeing the doctor time to time. “We will pay for her. That’s the only language they understand. So, we’ll make a deal.”

“Oh, nice.” you mouthed, still dazed. “Another way to show my family how I am their slave.” your words were slurred, but they still understood you. Finn looked at you concerned. “I know how you feel, Y/N. But this is the only way we can save you.” you tried to silk your shoulders, but you remembered your arm was broken. “I know but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m their slave.” Tommy wasn’t listening to you anymore; he took Arthur and John with him and went to your parents. You were worried sick about to possible outcome of this deal because your parents were dangerous. But you let your eyes rest, you couldn’t deal with the pain anymore. So, you fell asleep.

-

“Y/N, please bring us that bottle of whiskey I put aside.”

Tommy requested with a soft tone; he had a business meeting at the bar. After “buying” you out from your abusive parents, Tommy decided it would be better for you to work for yourself and yourself only. He let you earn decent money, enough to get yourself a new place to stay. The guys didn’t want you to move out, but they knew eventually you had to. After working, you had to get back to Tommy’s because it was around Christmas and you and your new family were about to get together. You were unbearably excited, head to toe, feeling numb in your fingers. You’d never celebrated Christmas before, let alone a dinner party with your family. Hell, if there were a party, you would be the one who do all the work around.

You and Finn were sitting near the Christmas tree, drinking your whiskey while chatting. His fingers were brushing through your now better arm, caressing the bandage. “Does it still hurt?” you silk your shoulders “Not anymore.” you smile, gave him a kiss on the cheek and put your head on his shoulder. You were watching them, arguing passionately about something. Polly and Ada were somewhere else at the house, Polly probably was reading the tea leaves of Ada.

You were excited about that night because it was the first decent dinner with anyone. You wanted to look good, so you dressed up- more than them. They have been mocking you all night long, especially Arthur. He kept commenting on your newly bought pearls, the kind gift of Tommy. You were like a mad cow, you accept that, bothered everyone all day long about what to wear or what to do. But in the end, you were full of happiness thanks to your new family.

“I am going to get myself a new glass.” you told Finn and stood up from the couch. You were a little bit dizzy, well it was a really strong whiskey so that was not a surprise for you. You wanted to get over your excitement so, you’d like a new glass.

While you were walking back to your spot, Arthur grabbed you by your waist and held you high. “Holy shit Arthur!” you screamed, some of it because of the pain you had in your ribs. You held his shoulders in the purpose of not falling, but your glass had already fallen. “Y/N’s first official dinner with us as our family!” he shouted, turning you around up by the air. You were feeling nauseous, you were about to throw up. “Fuck, Arthur, stop!” he didn’t listen to you, kept you up there. And then, the inevitable happened.

You threw up, while still up in the air, made a whole mess around the carpet and unfortunately, some of it got to his suit too. All his brothers started to laugh, mostly at Arthur. “Fuck Y/N!” he let you down, took off his jacket and put it aside. Tommy called over his maid, although he looked slightly amused, he didn’t want to make it obvious. His carpet was a mess.

Esme was still laughing like crazy and held your hand. “Let’s get you cleaned up, pukey.” you nodded in response. She helped you clean your mouth, sprayed the perfume, and slightly squeezed your cheeks to give you a little color. “How are you feeling, love?” she sounded concerned, which was a rare thing because she never showed her worrying side to you before. You smiled and hugged her; you loved your big sister more than anything in the world. “I’m happy.”

“About puking?”

You giggled, squeezed her more with your arms. “No, about today. About this. I feel free.” she kissed your cheek and smiled back at you. “You are free, love. And you got Finn.” she winked and let you out of the bathroom. Finn was waiting you there, looking a little bit disturbed. “Are you alright, Y/N? You look pale? Did Arthur hurt your arm or something?” you let him to hug you, to kiss you. “I’m fine, Jesus. I just had too much to drink.” you kissed him back, walked with him outside to the garden. You two were sitting at the bench, holding each other closely. “You know Finn, you don’t have to worry about me all the time.”

“I will worry about you darling, because I love you.”

You raised your head, looked at him surprised. Yes, you two loved each other but you’d never said it out loud before. The three words made you warm all inside, a huge smile creeped all over your face. You were young, little kids even, but you always had that feeling with him. Even when you guys were little, you knew Finn was the one. Finn was the one who cared about you the most, and you cared about him the most. So, you let yourself say those three words back to him.

“I love you too. More than anyone.”

[cyoc49]

Auto Pilot

James was 18 and already shaping up to be a disappointment in life. After spending four years of high school slacking off, doing drugs, and not caring about anything, he now found himself a freshman in college with little prospect of where to go. He was attending the local community college - he hadn’t even wanted to do that, but his parents threatened to kick him out and cut off funding if he didn’t do some higher education. Now he found himself wandering aimlessly around campus. He had no idea what his major would be, no plans of any kind, really. He wanted to stay as distant from this college experience as possible.

To be honest, James did sometimes think about his lack of aim in life. The truth was he truly did fear committing to anything in life, for the risk of making the wrong choice, and so invented a “don’t care” persona to cope with his lack of place in the world.

James arrived at his dorm, and made his way upstairs to his room. He shared it with some guy, Clide. They didn’t talk much. As he got to the door of his room, he noticed a package sitting in front of the door. He picked it up and inspected it. Relatively small, lightweight, addressed to him. Odd. Usually this type of thing would be sent to the mail room. As James entered his room, he put the package down on his desk. Clide wasn’t there, he was probably at class.

“Might as well check this thing out,” James said to himself as he opened the box. Inside was a big red button reading AUTO PILOT.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t that. It was one of those comically oversized buttons like you saw in movies. He had never seen one this big in person. And what did “Auto Pilot” mean?

Looking back into the box, James found a small booklet labeled “User’s Manual”. He picked it up and read the contents:

“INCREDIBLE AUTO PILOT BUTTON

Life can be exhausting. School, jobs, bills, food, house troubles, and countless other decisions have to be made and executed every day. At the end of the day, is all the grind really worth it? Wouldn’t you rather take the easy route? The better route?

The Auto Pilot button is simple. Press it, and your life will be set to “auto pilot”. We’ve spent decades studying the behavior patterns of successful people, and have created a formula by which we have the correct response to every obstacle and issue you will ever face in your life. Job troubles? You’ll always be a hard worker who knows how to get what he wants. Social issues? You’ll have the right line for every occasion. You’ll be more outgoing, more ambitious, and best of all: you don’t have to do any of it. When you’re on auto pilot. You can sit back and watch as your body makes all the right decisions for you. One press is all that’s needed.

Enjoy your life on auto pilot!”

James checked the back to see if there was anything else. He didn’t know what to think. He almost wanted to laugh. It had to be a joke, but the tone of the pamphlet was so certain that it could also be the delusions of some eccentric billionaire. Ah well, at least he finally had something to go on his barren desk. He slid the auto pilot button to the back corner of his desk, then paused. He pressed down on the button, just to see what those big red buttons really feel like.

Unfortunately for James, one press is all that’s needed.

*click*

As the button clicked down, James’ body slumped.

His eyes went dead.

And then he suddenly smiled.

And he kept smiling.

James was 22 and life was looking pretty great. After pressing that button his freshman year, James completely turned his life around, as if overnight. He suddenly started paying attention in all his classes. He began going to the gym, and joined an intramural soccer team. By the end of his freshman year, James had gained 25 lbs of muscle, going from a boney 150 to a beefy 175. He also ended his year, with a 4.0 GPA, and used it to apply to the local state school. It just offered him more opportunities than community college, and had better networking circles. James got in handily, and that fall found himself moving across state to university.

Almost as soon as he landed on campus, James continued his life climbing. He declared majors in international business and finance, knowing the money opportunities that lay there. The course load was nothing for James, as he always worked on homework at maximum efficiency. In fact, he had time left over to join a club lacrosse team.

Through his finance classes and lacrosse practices, James came to realize the social circle he needed to join if he wanted to get ahead: The rich preps. They were the ones who exuded the aura of success he wanted to project, and the ones with the connections to jobs after college. He modeled himself after them. He began to dress like them, in khakis and pastels, and leather loafers. Vineyard Vines, Ralph Lauren, and Brooks Brothers invaded his closet. He began to manage his hair, combing it into a neat side part every morning with pomade. He researched golf news, followed stock market trends, so he would have topics to talk about with these preps.

Slowly, by bringing up the points he now new about with classmates, and by projecting the image of a successful young preppy professional, James came to be accepted as one of their own. One of the boys. His ultimate dream. From that point it was easy: James was Mr All American, effortlessly witty and charming. By the time he was a senior, James was on fire. He had served as captain of his lacrosse team for the past 2 years, was top of his business classes. He had met several of his new friend’s fathers (all of them CEOs), and in most cases the fathers ended up liking James more than their own children. James was a professional in all aspects, and he did it all with a bright, mindless smile.

The one thing James hadn’t accomplished in college was finding a girlfriend. Of course he’d had several offers, but he never took a woman to call his own. Every once in a while he found himself staring at the guys on the lacrosse team while they changed, but these were only fleeting feelings. Certainly not the most efficient way to live his life.

But this didn’t matter to James. In just a few months he would be graduating top of his business program, and thanks to the father of a friend he had a job lined up at Plexicorp, one of the biggest marketing chains in the nation. James was only 22 and he was a consummate professional. Is this what a perfect life looks like?

James was 30 and on top of the world. After graduation he went right into work at Plexicorp, and immediately assumed the stereotype of a “young urban professional”. His work ethic was tireless, and through a mixture of countless golf matches and the perfect water cooler humor, James quickly became the most popular guy in his office, and the model employee. He rose in the ranks quickly, and was now a regional manager with a six figure salary at only 30.

With extra cash to spare, James had gone to work giving his life an upgrade. He bought clothes from extremely expensive brands, though sticking to his preppy classics. He got salon quality pomade for the classic styling of his hair (which had only gotten lighter over the years), and routinely had dermatology and dental work done to keep his face looking as fresh as possible. He bought a serene little cookie cutter McMansion out in the suburbs. Even with all this going on, he perfectly worked time into his schedule for gym and nutrition, keeping his body in peak shape even as he got older. At age 30, James was quickly approaching a DILF.

With the perfect job, the perfect clothes, and the perfect body, you’d think James would have quickly found a suitable wife, or at least someone looking for a QoL upgrade. But even over the years, James still never found himself fully committed to women, even though he knew starting a family young would be most productive in the long term. In a particular night of conflicting emotions, James made his way to a leather bar on the outskirts of town, where a nice 50 year old man with a beard and a harness taught James what he had always known. He was gay. And he loved it.

There must have been a hole in the Auto Pilot system. Certainly heterosexuality would be most efficient for a successful life, but somehow James’ base feelings came through. Of course he had no way of knowing what was going on in his body. All he knew was what was most efficient, and what felt best were in opposition to each other right now.

Eventually, with a smile, the straight James won out. After his encounter with the leather clad friend, he quickly found himself not thinking about sex at all. A life of chastity was certainly good enough for him. Letting sex be for pleasure hardly worked out, as we see. Sex should be for utility. Creating the family. And to get a family, he needed a wife.

The following weekend James took a trip to his local country club, and after a bit of scouting, chatting, and brown-nosing, James was introduced to Amber, an interior decorator. She wasn’t the most brilliant with a conversation, but she was single and looking to marry and that was enough for James. They went on several incredibly vanilla movie and dinner dates, where hand holding was the most action either of them got. After 8 months, they married and moved in together.

Now standing here at 30, James looked in the mirror. He felt his decently-sized chest push against the cotton undershirt and mint green button up sitting on top. His rotund and muscular ass was perfectly wrapped by his khakis. He looked down at the counter of his bathroom. Marble. With plenty of space. Even with his tricky sex situation, James had to admit he had a great body and a great life. He had made (almost) all the right decisions, and was reaping plenty of the rewards. As far as living life, this was a pretty good way to do it.

James was 40, and life was perfect. The shareholders of Plexicorp were so impressed by his keen business instincts and impressive management, and at only 32 offered to make him the youngest shareholder in the history of the company. From there he went from “pretty well off” to “disgustingly wealthy”. James knew how to invest his money well, and from the moment of that promotion never worried about money again. He moved into a mansion in the nice part of town and upgraded his wardrobe to suits, suits, and more suits. Now that he was one of the elites, he had to project as such. He kept his appearance as clean and refined as possible at all times. He loved to flash off in a khaki suit (a nod to his preppy roots), and with his now perfectly-blonde hair, he was the absolute image of refinement. He had certainly aged like fine wine, and there was no doubt about it: James was a DILF.

The only sore spot in his life has been Amber. After years of trying and failing to conceive due to lack of excitement, Amber eventually asked to file for divorce. James knew he had to grant her this, and handled the proceedings quietly (and generously) to let go of her gently. At 35, James was finally meeting a dead end that his Auto Pilot skills were unable to find a solution to.

Until he had an investment meeting with a local stock analyst named Robert

Robert was an image of success, beauty, and sharpness that James had seen in only one other man: himself. It was almost unnatural how beautiful and crisp Robert was. His perfectly parted hair. His well-fit gray suit and polished dress shoes. As James eyed this man up and down, it dawned on him. Robert must have made every decision perfectly in life to look like an image of success in his his 30s, because he did. Robert had help from Auto Pilot too. And judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, and the way he was eyeing James in the exact same way James was eyeing him, James had a suspicion that Robert had the same problem he had.

Robert was someone whose every value, choice, and lifestyle matched up with James’.

James knew exactly the right decision to make.

The two flashed each other perfect smiles and firm handshakes, and although the topic of their first meeting stayed on stocks, it was clear there was a mutual spark between the two. They quickly decided that weekly investment meetings would be best, which turned into lunch meetings twice per week, which turned into dinner, which turned into something much more. The two took it slow, to be safe, but it was clear they were disgustingly perfect for each other. On Tuesdays and Thursdays they met up at the gym at 6AM to exercise together. They had quickly learned they wore the same suit size, and exchanged looks on several occasions. Robert taught James just how he achieved his razor sharp part, and James taught Robert how to match pocket squares to outfits. After a few years of dating they married in a picturesque countryside summer wedding, and both knew this one would last.

Now standing here at 40, James could genuinely say life was perfect. He had gone from an aimless place in his life to the top of the world, and although it had been a bumpy road, he was now with the perfect partner living a life of gentility. Checking his suited image in the mirror one last time, James left the bathroom and walked to the front door where Robert was waiting. The two had plans to attend an orchestra show and get dinner at the nicest restaurant in town.

James flashed Robert the perfect smile, and Robert returned the favor.

“Ready to go, darling?” James asked the man of his dreams.

“Of course, love.” Robert replied in a smooth tenor. The two briefly joined to kiss, before heading outside where the driver was waiting to take them into the city for another wonderful night.

[nellygwyn]

different anon, thoughts of harlots portrayal of historical sex work?

I got another anon asking for a similar thing so here it goes:

Season 1, in particular, I think, had a really nuanced approach to sex work, historical and contemporary. It says a lot that some of my friends who are full service sex workers felt it explored a lot of the complex thoughts they have about being sex workers. We had Charlotte and Emily who are both ambivalent and ambitious, practical, knowing that money is the most important thing in their world whilst also being unattainable for them in other socially acceptable careers (also, since I did my MA thesis on the rape of working class adolescent girls in Georgian London, where I basically found that working in a pub or as a servant in a house could just as unsavory, if not worse, as being a sex worker in the same time period, I like to think Charlotte in particular knows this very well and that's why she wants to control her own narrative so much). We also have Lucy, who hates it and is taken advantage of by her mother in many ways, and other characters who end up in the sex industry through ~Hogarthian~ methods i.e. tricked by a kindly older woman who turns out to be an unscrupulous brothel-keeper a la Mother Needham. This kind of thing certainly happened, though not as often as 18th century moralists might like you to think, but in the show, it plays into the overarching theme that this is a world where the people who should be looking after sex workers and making sure they aren't treated like shit literally do not care (which definitely mirrors our own times). Like, Emily likes sex work in many ways but when she experiences awful aspects of it? It's always because of powerful people letting other powerful people do whatever they want to these women....the only thing outside forces ever seem to do is moralise or take away their money, or punish them. People who have the power to actually transform the system are basically useless, except Josiah in S2 who initially starts off as useless but does later try to make amends.....he's just not powerful ENOUGH though.

I do wish they hadn't made so much of the '1 in 5 women in Georgian London sell sex' because....that's not necessarily a false statistic but it doesn't actually just include sex workers, it also includes women who lived with men they weren't married to which could've been a financial arrangement or could've been simply women living with long term partners. It also includes women who dabbled in sex work, which was extremely common in a world where other, more socially acceptable jobs for working women didn't always pay very well. We know that a lot of women who were in domestic service in Georgian London also had what we might call 'a side hustle' as sex workers, specifically strollers and bunters (sex workers who didn't work in a brothel and usually picked up clients/did work on the streets). I think Harlots did a good job of showing us like, sex workers who work in brothels but also more independent sex workers like Nancy and Violet, but it would've been nice to have a character who was a maid in a middle class home most of the time but occasionally dabbled in sex work in the late evening. It would've emphasised the theme of money being important and barely within reach, but also would've shown the reality of women's work in this period OUTSIDE OF sex work.

The diversity of the industry was also good, although it's a shame that the show kind of failed at showing us male sex workers, or queer sex workers - I mean, we did see mollies (contemporary name for gay men sex workers) but not in a particularly meaningful way imo. Plus, we could've had a trans woman sex worker, especially as there is precedent in this period! Princess Serefina, for example, was probably a transgender woman and one of the most famous sex workers of the early 18th century. But I think Harlots did show us the amount of women of colour who not only lived in Georgian London, but who worked there and not just as sex workers. We also had sex workers with disabilities, too. One of my favourite details is that Harriet Lennox is inspired by a real Georgian sex worker called Black Harriet who only employed sex workers of colour at her brothel (which Harriet Lennox also does in S2 and 3). And there is quite an admirable attempt to explore intersectionality in the series - Harriet doesn't just experience sexism but pretty awful racism (I mean, she literally used to be enslaved by the first man who made her his mistress)....and this changes the way she experiences the world.

My biggest criticism is of the way Charlotte was killed off. Well, first of all, I have an issue with the fact Season 3 put her in a relationship with a pimp, which is so fucked up on every level. Like, not even just a pimp but a pimp who tried to kill her and the women she lives with. Then, she ends up being ACTUALLY killed off by said pimp and his brother (also a pimp) in the most deranged way possible a.k.a getting in the way of a fight and being pushed down the stairs. So many stories about sex workers, historical and contemporary, employ the 'Dead Hooker' trope and I hate it and I especially hate it for this time period because dying violently or tragically as a sex worker doesn't have much basis in reality. Charlotte specifically was inspired by famous courtesans of the time like Kitty Fisher and Fanny Murray. Both of whom......met someone who was willing to keep them long term/marry them and left the industry, financially stable and contented. This series wanted to honour women like that but I don't understand how it could do that by killing Charlotte violently (and other characters violently). We know that most sex workers left the industry around their mid twenties, usually because they had found a long term keeper/husband or because they became actresses/singers in the London theatres (a job that had strong links to sex work and courtesanry at the time). There were so many options for Charlotte but the writers picked that one, as her exit. It just brings us back to the fact that for some people, sex workers don't deserve any kind of happy ending. In fact, John Cleland, the writer of the scandalous c. 1749 erotic novel 'Fanny Hill,' had his book banned and criticised not just because it was obscene but because Fanny never repents her life as a sex worker. Instead, she marries a decent man and has a decent life and explictly says she doesn't feel bad or upset about her old job. Like, that's an example from the actual time period so imagine my disappointment when history seemed to repeat itself in a period series c. 2019.

[gubler-me-up]

Perfectionism

Request: HELLOO, I’ve had an idea for literally months in my head but I wouldn’t be able to write it as good as you 🥺 Would you mind doing a Spencer reaction to his crush having bad body dysmorphia that they’ve been hiding from the team (they’re working for bau) but at a case or smn someone they’re interviewing comments negatively on their body and they break down once they think they’re alone? But Spence sees and reaches out and it’s really wholesome and soft? I’m a sucker for angsty fluff I’m sorry 😔

A/N: Thanks for the prompt anon, much appreciated! I hope this does justice to your well thought-out idea. I hope it satisfies all your angsty fluff needs! Side note, to everyone of my followers/readers I hope you know you’re beautiful and finding love/happiness within yourself takes time, but trust the process, loves ❤️ Enjoy! 

Category: Angsty fluff

Content warning: Swearing, mention of violence, self degradation

Word count: 2.3k

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

You stood in front of the mirror inside the police department’s washroom. You finished applying another thick layer of foundation on your face. You knew applying this much makeup to your face wasn’t good. Your dermatologist even recommended against it and advised you to let your skin breathe for a while to prevent over clogging your pores. He didn’t understand the problem of doing that though.

Without the concealer masking the dark circles under your eyes, you’d probably look dead. Maybe even worse. Without the foundation, your acne and healing acne scars would definitely bring unwanted attention to your face. It was certain to happen.

You had to wear them all the time, especially at work. You thought of how JJ probably never had to go through this. Her face was free of any sort of marks or blemishes. She always looked alive with her bright blue eyes with no heavy bags insight. No wonder Spencer had a crush on her a few years back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of your phone on the bathroom counter. You looked down to see Spencer’s name pop up informing you it was time to interview the suspect. A sigh left your mouth as you started packing up your products into your travel beauty kit.

As you walked out of the door, you noticed Spencer at the end of the poorly lit hall leading back out to the main lobby. When he noticed you were walking down the hall towards him, he smiled and waved. Sometimes you thought he was the cutest genius in the world.

“Hey, didn’t know you were waiting for me,” you said.

He shrugged. “Thought it would be nice for us to walk to the interview room together.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

He nodded as you both started walking towards the interview room. You couldn’t help noticing he kept on looking at you. Especially your face. What if he saw your acne scars? Or even the acne itself? What if he was just noticing how strange your face looked?

You stopped walking. “Why do you keep staring at me?”

He stopped walking as well as he gave you a questionable look. “What?”

“Is there a reason you keep looking at my face?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No, no reason, I just-”

“You just what?” You said before he even finished his sentence.

Spencer was taken back by your tone. Your words made it seem as if he was attacking you. You could tell from his confused facial expression. Before he could get a chance to pull his words together, you started walking again.

“Forget it. Let’s just focus on this interview.”

Spencer watched as you walked by him. He trailed behind you, trying his best not to say anything else. You knew you shouldn’t have snapped at him the way you did, but you couldn’t bear the possibility of him pointing out a flaw. You just knew he could see everything you tried so hard to hide.

As you two reached the interview room door you felt Spencer gently grab your arm. You turned to him to see how concerned he looked. Before you said anything he made sure to get the first few words out.

“Y/N, I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable back there. Whatever’s troubling you I’m here to help you get through it,” he assured you.

You smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate you, Spence. For now, let’s put what happened behind us for now and go interview this guy.”

Reid smiled as he gently squeezed your arm before letting you go. It felt nice having him reassure you, but he didn’t even know what he was reassuring you about. Maybe he didn’t notice your facial imperfections at all. Maybe he was genuinely admiring your face.

You opened up the interview room to see a dark-haired, middle-aged, white man sitting across the table. He was well put together with a buttoned-up blue shirt, black tie and his hair was slicked back. Physically he matched the profile perfectly. He looked as if he exuded arrogance as your profile detected the unsure would be like. He tried to keep a cool and emotionless demeanour, but by his furrowed eyebrows and wrinkling forehead, he was becoming impatient.

“Hello, I’m agent Y/N Y/L/N and this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Adam Boyer, correct?” You said as you and Spencer took your seats.

“Glad you can read documents, agent,” he scoffed.

“I wouldn’t get so smart-mouthed yet, Boyer. According to some sketchy transactions between you, John McNeil and Robert Morrison it seems as if you have a lot to hide for someone so vocal,” you said.

He squinted his eyes at you. “What does this even have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but those two men are dead. You were the last person to contact both of them the day they died. A transaction of over half a million dollars goes missing and you get mad and-“

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, agent, but I didn’t murder my colleagues over money. My company makes more than that in a day, so spare me of your pathetic accusations.”

Before you could reply, Spencer jumped in to level out the tension between you and Boyer. He opened a file on the desk and pointed to a bank statement.

“It says here on your financial records your company is $1.5 million dollars in debt. We discovered Robert Morrison and John McNeil both gave you back their shares of the company to equate $500,000, which is legally a breach in the company’s contract for workers, including yourself, to share, distribute or give away company shares without a reasonable cause. According to the list of reasonable cause you failed to mention bankruptcy or were too arrogant at the time to force something like that happening to you,” Spencer said.

With everything he said, you could tell Boyer’s cool exterior was wearing off. He looked glossier in the face, started fidgeting with his tie and refused to look directly at Spencer. He decided to direct his attention to you instead.

“Well, isn’t that a huge mistake on my part, ain’t it?” He asked directly to you.

“Huge mistake or huge flaw in your plan of getting away with murdering your colleagues? I think it’s the second one, Boyer,” you said.

He leaned back in his chair without breaking any eye contact with you. He folded his hand in front of his chest. You had to admit he made your feel a bit uncomfortable.

“What else do you think?” He asked.

“I think you murdered your colleagues when they found out you had taken back their share of the company to pay back your debts. They would have ratted you out, got you fired from your own company or even worse, the whole company would have shut down and you’d have nothing left.”

“Nothing left,” Boyer said seemingly to himself.

“Yes, absolutely nothing. Your wife divorced you, took full custody of your two boys and now you spend your days throwing your money-approximately $1.5 million dollars-on trying to buy love from escorts,” you said.

It was as if something had woken up inside of him as he almost pounced across the table. Both you and Spencer got out of your seats with Spencer using his arm to block the front of you. It was as if it was a natural instinct for him to protect you before bracing himself.

“Sit down,” Spencer demanded.

“At least I have escorts willing to ride my dick. You couldn’t even pay a male stripper to look at that face of yours. Where’s the pretty agent who was in here before? If I’m going to be accused of a crime, I’d rather be accused by someone half decent looking. Get my fucking lawyer on the phone,” he proceeded to yell.

Though you shouldn’t have felt as bad as you did by the words he said, you did. The blunt force in his voice was vicious. The way he looked at you in disgust. His disgust was too real. He was bold enough to look at you the way everyone wanted to, but was too cautious to do it in front of your face.

“I’ll get your lawyer on the phone, you psycho,” you whispered before turning around to leave.

“Don’t forget to bring the real eye candy in as well, sweetheart,” he said.

You didn’t bother looking back at him or even Spencer. You felt your eyes get heavy with tears and knew it would be terrible to show weakness to such a vile suspect. You rushed out of the room before Spencer could stop you or even follow you close behind.

You rushed towards the washroom as your tears were at the brim of your eyes. As you reached the door, you paused. What if someone was in there? What if Emily or JJ saw you crying? You retracted your steps and decided to go to the family washroom instead.

You didn’t even wait until the door was fully closed before letting out your tears. You heavily wept to yourself as you replayed everything he had said to you. Spencer probably stood there agreeing with everything he said, word for word. Your face being hideous, JJ’s beauty surpassing the little you had, no one wanting you. You backed up against the wall to avoid the mirror, to avoid the disgusting reflection in the mirror.

The only reason you looked up was that you heard the washroom door open. You saw Spencer peak in. When he saw the tears running down your face, he didn’t hesitate to go over to you with concern written all over his face.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? I hope he didn’t get to you,” he said as he reached out his hands.

You assumed he was going to try to wipe the tears from your face, so you pushed away his hands. You couldn’t stand the thought of him touching your face if he thought it was hideous. You didn’t even want him looking at you directly. You looked down to avoid your face being in the presence of his.

He attempted to lift your head up by placing his hand on your chin. You flinched at his touch and moved your head out of his grasp. New tears started to spill from your eyes as you looked at him with despair.

“Can you stop, Spencer?” You wept.

He looked at you confused. “Stop what?”

“Looking at me. I know my face is ugly, okay? Everyone knows and it’s just degrading for you to pretend not to notice,” you snapped at him.

“Y/N, what are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your face.”

“Spencer, I know you see it. My acne and acne scars. It doesn’t help that my face is always shiny and my cheeks are chubby. You don’t have to pretend to be blind to it for the sake of my feelings.”

“You thought I was looking at you earlier because you think I think you’re ugly? Y/N that couldn’t be further from the truth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Then why were you looking at me? Be honest.”

“Because I think you’re gorgeous.”

“Ugh, Spencer, you don-”

He grabbed both your hands in his big ones, grasping them tightly. You looked down at your hands in his and then looked up into his eyes. He looked longingly at you. You could see the genuine look of love in his face.

“Y/N, I know what you’re going through. Body dysmorphia’s not an easy thing to fight off by yourself, but I want to assure you every day that I think you’re the most beautiful person I know; both inside and out.”

You let out a deep breath as you felt round three of tears coming to your eyes. Honestly, you couldn’t think of a moment you felt genuinely pretty. His words could move mountains.

“But if Adam Boyer could-”

“Please don’t let a psychopath make you feel unsure of yourself. He only belittled you because he lost control of the situation and decided to target you. His idea of a perfect girl is someone he can dominate, which makes him disgusting not you.”

He let go of your right hand as he wiped away a tear making its way down your face. You grasped his left hand hard as he touched your face. It still made you feel uncomfortable, but you were happy Spencer cared deeply for you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched your face if you’re not comfortable with that yet. I know it takes time to breakdown this idea of what perfect is especially with so many beauty standards being pushed by society, but I’ll be here to help you realize you’re the most beautiful you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way,” he said.

You smiled at his words as you wiped away the few stray tears running down your face. You had to admit you liked it better when he did it. You leaned your head back, took a deep breath, let it out and then looked at Spencer.

“Thank you for being you. I wouldn’t want you to be any other way as well,” you said.

He smiled. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. If you want me to be that is.”

“I do. I really do.”

“Maybe after we’re done with this case we can do something together to help you remember the beautiful person you are.”

“I’d love that.”

You both walked towards the washroom door. Spencer made sure not to let go of your hand until you two left the washroom. You felt as if he wanted you to grasp onto the positive energy he had for you. You felt uplifted in a way. This must be the benefit of the Spencer Reid effect.

—–

MASTERLIST

[99liv3s]

A New Shiny Breeding Method

“Breathe, Anna, you’re doing great!!”

29 year old Anna Jones panted and moaned as the next contraction hit her.  The egg, which was slightly larger than a baby’s head, began to crown at her vagina, causing a great amount of pain and pressure!  The nursery worker acting as her midwife brushed Anna’s light blonde hair out of her face, then, after gently placing her hand on Anna’s belly, she knelt down between her legs, ready to catch the egg once Anna delivered!

“IT HURTS!” “OH GOD, IT HURTS!!” Anna exclaimed!

“Yes, I know it does,” the nursery worker stated, “but you are doing great, and remember, it’s all worth it!”

Anna wasn’t sure she agreed with the nursery worker’s statement, for she had been effectively forced into this new procedure!  Of course, shiny hunting had always been a common practice among Pokemon trainers, and the method with the best chances had always been Pokemon breeding… Trainers would hatch up to thousands of eggs hoping to get Pokemon with high battle stats, or, with luck, a shiny.  Once it was discovered long ago that dittos could breed with anything, it became the custom to breed the desired Pokemon with ditto to guarantee egg types.

Unfortunately, as everyone knew, certain Pokemon couldn’t breed… it was initially explained that these certain Pokemon, usually legendary Pokemon, had no gender.  However, it was likely more complicated than that.  Scientists across all the regions of the Pokemon world had been studying this very issue, and the research had made its way to the Galar region, after a new discovery had been made.

Across the region, a small handful of humans had been born with a rare mutation that allowed their DNA to shift and be able to combine with any other DNA, including that of a Pokemon’s.  It was called a “gift” by the highest renowned professors, and it had the potential to open new possibilities. The Galar region had two Pokemon nurseries, but suddenly, one day, the nursery nestled in the wild area closed its doors.  Unbeknownst to most of the outside world, the nursery had been converted into a new laboratory, dedicated to studying this new discovery, and a new method that was made possible because of it.  Recent attempts in Pokemon cloning had been disastrous, and scientists had been proceeding very cautiously in future studies in that field, but several brilliant minds cooked up the idea that if a Pokemon’s DNA could be injected into a host with the rare condition, which they were now calling the “Ditto Genome”, combined with a cocktail of several other drugs, the result could produce Pokemon eggs in a similar manner as true reproduction, and this would bypass the obstacle surrounding legendary Pokemon.

The scientists were eager to put their theories to the test, but they needed a viable candidate.  Unfortunately, most of the humans that possessed the “Ditto Genome” were trainers, itching to complete their Gym Challenges, or other dreams, and were not available... The scientists continued their search, and then an opportunity came to them in the form of Anna Jones!

Anna had attempted the Gym Challenge but failed at the second gym.  Because of this, she became so distraught; she quit as a Pokemon Trainer and released all of her Pokemon.  This soon proved to be a mistake, as she had no other viable skills, and could not find employment anywhere.  During a typical medical checkup, she had had a DNA test run, and it was discovered that she carried the “Ditto Genome.”  Just when it looked as if she was about to reach the end of her road, she was approached, (more like abducted), by the scientists.  They brought her to the nursery laboratory, where they made a proposition: They had informed a very strong trainer in secret that they could provide him the means to potentially hatch a shiny Mew, and the trainer had jumped at the chance, paying the nursery a considerable amount of money to make it happen!

So, two days had passed to find Anna spread out on a hospital bed inside the nursery wearing nothing but a pink bra, laboring to deliver a clutch of eggs that had apparently formed after a scientist injected some sort of concoction into her via a needle to the stomach.  There were still parts of the situation even she was not aware of yet!

The egg slowly began to emerge from Anna’s vagina, and as it did so, she let out a cry of grief!  In the back of her mind, she was aware that her stomach looked like a 9 month pregnant woman, so if she was giving birth to Pokemon eggs, then there had to be more than one, much more!

“Get it out! Get it out!” GET IT OUT!!” Anna begged!

“It’s coming,” the nursery worker assured her. “Push with the contraction!”

Anna pushed and screamed, and the egg slid to its widest point. Then, with a slight squishy pop, it slid out, and Anna slumped onto her pillow in relief.  However, it was not to last!

A second, male, nursery worker that had been doing nothing but standing in the room apparently watching the entire effort, advanced forward and took the egg gently from Anna’s “midwife.”  He then turned to another female worker standing just outside the door and gave the egg to her, saying “Give this egg to the trainer… tell him nothing about how we obtained it!”

“He emptied his entire party, save one Pokemon, for this, sir,” She responded, taking the egg, “He will demand more eggs immediately so he can hatch them as quickly as possible.

As if in response to this, Anna let out another moan, feeling more pain and pressure building up as a second egg began making its way down her birth canal.

“Inform him that we’ll have another for him soon,” the head scientist proclaimed.  “Here comes the second of eight.”

“EIGHT??!!!” Anna squeaked.  “AAAGGGGHHHH!!!!”

The pain and pressure build up and the egg seemed to force its way to Anna’s opening, not caring how much it hurt her.  Anna tried to push in tandem with it, but it was happening so fast, she could barely catch her breath.  Sure enough, it began to crown, and Anna was hit with a burning sensation so awful, she was sure a Charmander had used flamethrower on her lower body.

“OW OW OW OW… AH AH AH AH AH!!”

“Breathe, honey, it’s making great progress!” The nursery worker coached.

Anna panted and moaned and cried, and after a minute of agonizing pushing, the second egg slid out of her.  Immediately, before Anna could barely glimpse what had just come out of her, the “midwife” handed the egg to the head scientist, who in turn, passed it out the door to the trainer.  Anna felt a twinge of anger, that she was going through the pain of bringing these eggs into the world, only for them to belong to a Pokemon trainer she had never met, all because she failed… all because she had this damn “Ditto Genome!”

“Good news,” the scientist said to the room in general, “The trainer just told our worker outside that he hatched a healthy Mew out of that first egg!”  “So far the experiment is a success, but we must continue for that shiny!”

“Easy for you to say,” Anna thought bitterly, as she could feel a slight build up of pressure once again.  After 15 minutes of more pain, panting, screaming, crying, and pushing, the third egg was delivered.  As soon as the scientist gave the egg to the trainer, Anna began to feel discomfort as the fourth egg struggled to make its appearance.  It felt strange, for it seemed to be the same size as the others she delivered, but it seemed she could feel the little Mew move inside of it, as it made its way through her cervix.  “Please, let this be the shiny,” Anna hoped to herself, “Please let me and this trainer get lucky, so I can end this experiment!”

The fourth egg emerged, somewhat easier than the others, so Anna was grateful for small favors, but after a few minutes, in which she had time to catch her breath, the scientist informed everyone in the room that all of the eggs produced had been hatched, and there was no shiny in any of them.

“Faster,” the scientist exclaimed, “The trainer wants to continue hatching eggs!”

“The little shit can wait,” Anna breathed, as she felt the twinge of the fifth egg begin to start its emergence.  She pushed and pushed and brought fourth the fifth egg, wondering how that trainer was hatching them so damn fast, but she had very little time to dwell on it, for the contractions to bring the sixth egg were already starting up, and Anna could already feel her body tiring out from the effort of pushing out what was essentially five baby heads.

As a result of this, the sixth egg’s delivery was not so easy!

“I can’t do this anymore,” Anna cried. “It hurts too bad, and I’m exhausted!”

“You have to,” the scientist said immediately. “Remember, we were paid a lot of money for this.”  “You will never have to worry about being poor every again, Miss Jones… This will allow you to start a new life!”

Anna knew that what he was saying was true, and she couldn’t go back to having nothing, so she mustered up her courage and strength and pushed out the sixth egg with one big push!  Unfortunately, the strain to do so seemed to “awaken” the seventh egg and it began its decent.  However, Anna found the strength to birth it as well, grunting and roaring in pain in the process.  She was comforted by the fact that the next egg was number eight, and was the last of the group!

“PUSH,” the nursery worker ordered! “PUSH HARD!!”

Anna screamed and pushed, working tirelessly to birth the final egg, and after 10 minutes, the ordeal was over.  Anna slumped onto the bed in exhaustion and relief, listening to the sounds around her, but what she heard filled her with a new sense of dread.

“No shiny,” the scientist exclaimed in disgust. “The trainer is irritated.”  “Continue!”

“Wait, what does…” Anna began, but then her heart dropped as the nursery worker advanced on her with another needle and injected it in her lower belly, muttering “I’m sorry!”  Within minutes, Anna’s stomach began expanding again, and she could feel her uterus fill up with eggs, once again.  If it was anything like the first time, labor would hit quite soon, and she was unsure she could handle it again.

“NO,” Anna pleaded.  “No, I CAN’T!”  “I just had eight eggs… I’m too tired for more!”

“It can’t be helped,” the scientist responded, almost apologetically.  “The trainer is still outside, cycling around in circles and chatting to friends on his phone.” “He wants the eggs now, otherwise he’ll start to ask questions about all this.”

Before Anna could protest, the nursery worker that had been acting as her midwife began scanning her with a small portable device.

“Four eggs this time,” she said. “Only four!” “You can do it, dear!”

“But, I CA…AAAHHHH”, Anna started, as contractions started up again!

As 20 more minutes passed, Anna labored and birthed the first of a new batch of Mew eggs.  It was just as painful and exhausting as the first births has been.  With barely time to contemplate what would happen if it took over a thousand hatches to get this godforsaken shiny, she was hit with another wave of pain.  Egg number two was making its appearance.

Anna breathed and pushed for the next several minutes, before she and everyone else realized something was wrong.  The nursery worker checked her, and then looked into Anna’s eyes with an expression of what seemed like pity.

“The egg is turned,” she said to her. “It’s coming out wide instead of long.”

“What does that mean?” Anna asked in terror.

“By all accounts, it means the egg is breach,” the midwife responded.  “It’s coming out sideways.”

“NO!!” Anna yelled, knowing what that must mean.  “Can’t you turn it or something??”

“I can try,” the midwife answered.

She reached into Anna’s vagina, causing Anna to scream!  It was extremely uncomfortable, and that discomfort turned to pure agony when the worker attempted to turn the egg inside her.  After a minute of this, she withdrew from Anna, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, Anna, I can’t move it,” She said, but Anna didn’t pay any attention to this… Whatever the midwife had tried to do seemed to accelerate the process, and Anna was bearing down, the pain that hit her when the worker reached inside her still present.

“OH MY GOD!!” “IT REALLY HURTS!!” Anna bellowed!! “I CAN’T DO THIS!”

“You can,” the midwife soothed her.  “You’re strong.” “It’s going to hurt a lot, but you can do it.”

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

Anna felt the egg begin to emerge, and knew that in its current position, it would not fit through her vagina.  She pushed, and moaned, and screamed, and cried, but it was no use… the wide section of the egg crowned, and stayed there, not moving at all.  It peaked out of Anna as if taunting her and the nursery workers to get it out.

“AHHH….OOHH….UUGGHH….AGGGHHHH!”

In an attempt to assist the laboring mother, the nursery worker positioned herself and used both her hands to press on Anna’s contracting belly.  To her amazement, the combined pushing of her, Anna, and the contractions seemed to be working… the egg slowly emerged as Anna howled in agony.

“Just a little more…. Just a little more!!” “It’s coming out, Anna!!”

“AAAHHHHHH”  “PULL IT OUT RIGHT NOW!!!”

“I can’t, Anna, but you’ve almost got it… don’t give up!!”

With a final almighty scream, Anna pushed the egg out and the nursery worker caught it.  “Good job, Anna!” she cheered.

After 10 minutes, contractions for the third egg started.  Anna was sure that this surely could not be as difficult as the egg she just delivered.  “Is this one turned right?” She asked her midwife.

After a few seconds, the midwife stopped checking Anna, with a grim expression on her face.  “Yes, it is, but…”

“But, what,” Anna asked, dreading the answer.

“This egg is twice as large as the others,” the nursery worker exclaimed.

Anna shook her head stubbornly, refusing to believe it could get any worse.  “NO, It can’t be,” Anna pleaded.  “It won’t fit!”

“I’m sorry,” the midwife said to her.  “I know it will hurt a lot, but you have to push hard and get it out!!”  “There’s no going back now!!”

Anna screamed in pain as the egg moved.  It was pure agony, and Anna was sure that trying to push this egg out would tear her… maybe even kill her.  After about ten minutes of horrible pain and pressure, the egg finally began poking out of her vagina.  Anna howled in anguish as it crowned, causing the familiar burning sensation, only twice as bad.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!” Anna bellowed.  “AAHH!!”  “GET THIS THING OUT OF ME!!”  “PLEASE!!!”

“It’s coming,” the nursery worker said to her.  “It’s not stuck, just moving slowly, cause it’s big, and your vagina is not.”  “Push hard!!”

Anna screamed as she pushed, the egg slowly emerging.  Distantly, she heard the head scientist saying something impatiently, but she didn’t care.  The pain was too much, and it was taking all of her willpower not to pass out.  The egg moved inch by inch, and the burning was so severe, Anna was sure that her vagina had opened to the point where it would never be right again!

“IT’S TEARING ME!!” She screamed.  “I CAN’T PUSH ANYMORE!!”  “CUT IT OUT OF ME!!”

“No,” the midwife said sternly.  “You can do this!!”  “PUSH!!”

Anna wailed and pushed and cried.  After a few minutes, she slumped backward onto the bed, trying to catch her breath.  The egg was halfway out, hanging between her legs like a crowning head.  She was given oxygen, and the egg was examined while she attempted to quickly rest between contractions.  The midwife and supporting scientists made an interesting discovery when they scanned this egg hanging halfway out of Anna.

“There are two Mews in that egg… Twins!” one of the scientists stated.

“This is most unusual, as we’ve never seen two Pokemon in one egg before, ever!” The head scientist said.  “How is this possible?”  “This warrants further study!”

“I JUST WANT IT OUT!!!” Anna bawled as another heavy contraction came over her.  She grunted and pushed, and finally, the large egg slid out and landed in the midwife’s arms.  However, instead of giving it to the scientist by the door, she handed the overlarge egg to someone else, who took it to another corner of the room.

“Wait, what are you doing??” Anna exclaimed breathlessly, as she watched them take the egg she struggled to deliver over to a lab table.

“We’re not giving this egg to the trainer,” The head scientist exclaimed.  “We have just witnessed a phenomenon, and we will need to study it and the Mews inside!”

“But…. but what if one of those Mews in that egg is a shiny?” Anna asked frantically.

The head scientist shrugged.  “If it is, then too bad… we’ll just have to continue for a second shiny, one from a normal egg!”

“NO!!” Anna yelled, in both anger and pain as she felt another contraction hit.  “You’re not the one struggling to birth these eggs!”  “What if another hundred eggs doesn’t produce one?”

“Then, you’ll be giving birth to more than one hundred eggs,” The scientist exclaimed.  “Don’t worry, you’ll get to rest eventually between births, and you will, of course, be well compensated for it!”

Anna’s heart fell… she didn’t think any amount of money in the world was worth this torture.  She was so distraught and exhausted that, though the next egg seemed normal enough, Anna was struggling to deliver it.

“Push, Anna, Push!!” The midwife coached, but Anna only gave a small mediocre push.  Her heart was no longer in it, and she had lost her will and focus.  She moaned and yelled in pain, convinced that this last egg would no doubt kill her. This continued for the next half hour: Anna moaning, the midwife directing her to push, and Anna losing her energy, when the large egg Anna had delivered earlier hatched on the lab table, revealing two Mews, though none of them were shiny.  This did nothing to help Anna’s confidence, and the scientist that had taken the large egg was scanning the two newborn Mews, seemingly unconcerned with Anna’s agony.

“This is it,” Anna thought to herself.  “I’m going to die, painfully!”  “I can’t get this last egg out, I’m too tired and it hurts too bad!”  Suddenly, Anna heard another voice in her mind.  “You are strong,” it said.  “You must not give up!”  “I can give you the willpower to help you get through this!”  Anna blinked.  “Who are you,” she asked in her mind, and then the voice answered her, “I am one of the Mews you just delivered!!”

Anna glanced over at the lab table with wide eyes, to see one of the newborn Mews staring at her, its eyes glowing blue.  It was communicating psychically with her, and seeming to do more than that.  She began feeling renewed strength, as if the Mew was somehow energizing her with its power.

Anna bore down and pushed hard!  “UUUUGGGGHHHHHH!!!”

“Good girl, that’s it!” the midwife said, as the egg began to crown finally.

Anna screamed and grunted, pushing again.  The egg was emerging quickly, and the midwife scientist watched with wide eyes.

“There’s a fifth egg right behind this one,” she told the room.  “It’s trying to come out too!!”  “Anna, give me one good hard push!!”

Anna screamed loudly and pushed harder than she had ever done, or thought possible, and the fourth and fifth egg both popped out of her, one after another into the midwife’s arms.

Anna lay on the bed, panting in relief as the head scientist handed the fourth egg out to the trainer.  The midwife was mopping her head with a cold, damp cloth.  After 10 minutes, everyone heard a loud cheer from outside.

“That fourth egg hatched into a shiny Mew!” The head scientist told the room a minute later.  “The experiment was a success!!”

The entire room cheered, except for Anna, who was too tired to join in the celebrations, but smiled in relief nonetheless.  She did wonder what was going to happen to her now… what if more trainers wanted shiny Pokemon, or the scientists wanted to experiment with more legendaries??

Anna was allowed a day of rest.  That evening, the head scientist came into her room to talk to her.

“We have good news for you,” he said.  “You can go home!”  “We will be paying you quite a large sum shortly.”  “We discovered something yesterday… one of those Mews from that large egg can breed!!”  “It can also talk psychically to us, and has volunteered to take your place in our experiments.”

Anna sighed in relief.  “So, it’s all over??”

“Yes, it is!” the scientist responded.  “We have your clothes washed for you, so as soon as you are recovered and dressed, we will present you with your payment and you can leave!”  “We thank you deeply for what you did for us.”

“NEVER AGAIN!!” Anna said sharply!!

The scientist smiled.  “Of course!!”  “You have enough money now to live comfortably for the rest of your life!”  “We only ask that you never tell anyone what happened here, and we have a final gift for you!”

The scientist left the room for a few seconds and returned, holding a Pokemon egg that he presented to Anna.

“This is the fifth Mew egg you birthed, the one that was a surprise,” he told her.  “That trainer released all of the non-shiny Mews into the wild, effectively restoring the Mew population, and we have those twin Mews for our studies, so once this final egg hatches, the Mew inside it is yours.”  “It did come out of you, after all.”

Anna took the egg wide eyed and stared at it.  A tear ran down her cheek as she smiled.  Perhaps it was all worth it after all!!

   End

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 5: Fix-It / Rewrite

Right, so fix-its aren’t so much my jam, but there is this one weird, weird, weird thing that I’ve (so far) been unable to meta into any sort of sense. Namely, Mickey looking like that in season 11 while apparently not working out. It’s just… uh… he… what? At one point I hypothesized that he’s been bitten by a radioactive spider or the like, leaving him magically super buff, and to be honest, that’s still the most reasonable explanation I can think of, soooo…

Today I'm back at my nonsense to bring you, everyone and especially our dear @gallavichthings, 2,711 Very Serious words about Mickey being a secret superhero. Well. Except for the hero bit.

Read it below or on AO3.

---

In Which Mickey Milkovich Does Not Save the World

Afterwards, he would always refer to it as the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell, but the truth is that Mickey never saw the thing that got him.

He was going about his business (namely poking around the Gallagher basement for any forgotten shit he could sell for beer money now that all the cash from the wedding had been surreptitiously replaced with I.O.U:s) when he felt a sudden, sharp pain just above his ankle. Cursing up a storm, he desperately waved his foot around and lost his balance and stumbled straight into one of the many piles of boxes that littered the basement. By the time he was back on his feet whatever creature that had dug its nasty little teeth/pincers/claws into his tender flesh had scurried off, leaving Mickey with a throbbing ache and a halfway impressive puncture wound on his left leg.

Muttering darkly about fucking Gallaghers being so used Frank they didn’t know how to keep goddamned monster vermin out of their shitty house Mickey limped up the stairs to pour some Jamison on the wound, and then pour some down his throat because he had the bottle out already so he might as well. He borrowed one of Franny’s colourful pirate-patterned band-aids, and when his nosy as fuck ex-EMT of a husband asked about it later that evening Mickey said he’d dropped a can on his foot, it’s just a scratch, man, no you don’t need to take a look at it, just put your fingers back in my ass, please.

Mickey didn’t make a habit of lying to Ian, but he figured that telling the truth would lead to all sorts of questions about why he was in the basement and having to come up with plausible explanation for that when he should just be focusing on getting railed wasn’t part of his plans for the evening. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Ian, who’d been getting so worked up over money lately, to distract him with that sort of unimportant stuff while they were banging. Mickey was a considerate spouse.

Thankfully, Ian dropped the subject and proceeded to do his husbandly duty. Mickey went to sleep deeply satisfied.

He was almost as satisfied the next morning when he woke up to realize that the pain in his leg was gone, as were all traces of the wound itself. Mickey had always healed pretty fast, but this was quick enough to have him questioning whether or not he’d really been bitten/stung/whatever at all. Maybe he’d had more beers than he thought and imagined the whole thing… ?

It didn’t really matter, and if that had been the whole of it Mickey was likely to soon have forgotten all about the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell. However, in the next few weeks he started noticing stuff, weird stuff. For instance, it wasn’t just the (possibly imagined) bite/sting that healed far more quickly than normal; it was all the little cuts and scrapes he tended to acquire. A big bruise from running into the table while playing with Franny; faded to nothing the next morning. A cut from the razor; gone within the hour. For the first time he could remember, Mickey looked at his naked body in the mirror and saw not one single wound (though there were still scars aplenty). It wasn’t a bad thing, per se, but it was weird.

Then there was that thing with his muscles. Mickey had been in decent shape for most of his life and whenever he got locked up for extended periods of time he made a habit of hitting the gym on the regular. Really wasn’t much else to do in the joint, and having a decent bulk reminded the other inmates that you weren’t someone they could push around; letting people know that you could beat the shit out of them often meant you didn’t have to actually do it, which saved everyone a lot of time and energy and trips to the prison quack. But on the outside, exercise wasn’t very high on Mickey’s list of priorities, meaning he tended to slim down a bit after a while in freedom.

Not now, though. Almost a year after being out of prison, and he was still as built as ever; if anything he seemed to be developing more muscles, in spite rarely engaging in anything more taxing than vigorous fucking. (Okay, so there was a lot of vigorous fucking, but still. If anyone ought to be building their biceps from the sex they were having, it should be Ian.)

Mickey didn’t mind being inexplicably ripped, though. He felt great, looked great – and Ian seemed to be pretty into it, too. Then again, Ian seemed to be pretty into Mickey whether he wore dirty clothes, sported a beard, sported a dress, or hadn’t showered in a week, so maybe that wasn’t saying a lot.

But even given all that, maybe Mickey still wouldn’t have thought too much about it (he was, after all, very busy being on his honeymoon, which required lots of determined sleep-ins, dedicated beer-drinking, and – obviously – lots and lots of banging) if there hadn’t one day come a knock on the front door. At first he ignored itm in the hopes that someone else would get it, but when it became apparent that a, he was alone in the house, and b, whoever was at the door wasn’t giving up anytime soon, he grabbed the family baseball bat (even big soft ass Larry would react to Mickey opening the door with an extremely illegal gun in hand) and went to answer the insistent knocking.

Outside stood two women, looking an unsettling mix of sober and apprehensive and eager. One of them reminded him vaguely of Angie Zago; the other was taller and darker and quite possibly brooding.

“Can I help you?” he demanded, not quite as rudely as he might have. He didn’t think they were social workers, but one never knew; they’d been checking up on Debbie and Franny ever since Debbie pleaded guilty to statutory rape.

“Mr. Mikhailo Aleksandr Milkovich?” Not-Angie inquired in a polite sort of tremble. 

“Who’s asking?” Mickey demanded, feeling a little thrown by the use of his full name. The only people who pulled that out was law enforcement, and neither of these ladies had that feel about them. Especially since they seemed to be… excited to meet him, which wasn’t a reaction Mickey was used to getting. Particularly not from ladies looking like they ought to be out collecting for the fucking Red Cross.

They better not be asking for donations for the Red Cross.

“I’m Tania and this is Dreamweaver,” Not-Angie said. “Can we come in? It’s really best if we talk in private.”

Mickey didn’t move. “Dreamweaver? You kick your mama too many times in the kidneys before you were born or something?”

The women glanced uncertainly at each other. “Mr. Milkovich,” the one improbably called Dreamweaver began, but Mickey cut her off:

“You with the police?”

They quickly shook their heads. “No, we— “

“You here to give me money?”

“No, you see, it’s— “

“Okay, thank you, bye.” But as he moved to close the door, Tania – displaying more spunk than he’d have given her credit for – took a step forward and blocked the entrance.

“Have you been experiencing any strange body phenomena lately, Mr. Milkovich?” she blurted. “Wounds healing very quickly, perhaps, or increased muscle mass?”

Mickey stilled, eyes darting between the two women. Small, small smiles on their faces now, as if they knew they had him. There was a hint of hunger to those smiles, making Mickey feel uncharacteristically uncomfortable. The urge to push Tania back and slam the door shut was strong, but…

“Fine,” he said at long last. “Come on in.”

They better not be fucking cannibals either.

---

They called themselves The Guardians, and they wanted him to save the world.

Mickey asked what numbers they were talking and, after getting bored of their uncomprehending stares, clarified: “How much is it gonna pay? What’s my cut?”

Dreamweaver frowned. “You mean… money? As in a… salary?”

“Yeah, sure. What’s my salary?”

“Mr. Milkovich, saving the world is a higher calling and a duty, it’s not something that– “

“Uh-huh. So, just to be clear, you’re not gonna pay me?”

They weren’t. Mickey laughed in their faces, stood from the couch, and told them bye and good luck with that and don’t let the door hit ya on the way out.

They reasoned with him. They pleaded. They explained, again and again, that after the evil society USCH destroyed The Guardian’s headquarters in a devastating attack, the two of them–and Mickey–was the only thing standing between the world and utter destruction. Surely, he must understand that it was nothing less than Fate that had brought the one remaining Bestower Bot into the Gallagher basement and his path? Admittedly, injecting Mickey with the bio enhancer might have been the result of a malfunction – Tania and Dreamweaver had found the bot dead down the street a couple of nights ago – but didn’t he see that he had been called to serve as a warrior in the fight against evil?

“Yeah, no thanks,” Mickey told them, and then he picked up the bat and waved it around until they took the hint and left.

When Ian returned home a few hours later, Mickey carefully didn’t mention the curious visit or any of what Tania and Dreamweaver had told him. Ian was pretty into saving people and had all these lame ideas about service and honor, and Mickey found it more likely than not that his husband would both be upset that Mickey, rather than Ian himself, had been called as a warrior (it’d be Lip and West Point all over again, Mickey just knew it), and demand that Mickey answer the call and run off like some loon to get himself killed by evil technomancers.

Mickey didn’t particularly feel like dying and he didn’t like the idea of hurting his husband’s feelings either, so he kept his mouth shut and skillfully derailed all of Ian’s attempts at asking about his day by giving him a blow job, teasing him about being a grunt, and allowing himself to be wrestled to the floor when Ian decided he’d had enough of teasing. It was a good evening.

As he lay in bed that night, back against Ian’s chest and with those strong arms wrapped around him, Mickey wondered if it would be worth risking Ian’s reaction by going public. Okay, Tania and Dreamweaver had mentioned how he’d probably gotten a pretty small dose of the bio-whatever-the-fuck, lending him nothing more exciting than enduring muscle mass and enhanced healing, but that should probably be enough to turn him into a cut above the rest, right? He could hire himself out to the highest bidder and make a fortune doing private security or collections or stuff like that. Fuck, he’d even consider taking on jobs for The Guardians, if they just agreed to pay him.

It was a fun thought to play with, but in the end a long life in the shadows made Mickey wary of putting himself out there like that. Besides, he’d seen enough movies to know that it’d probably wouldn’t be long before he mysteriously disappeared to some secret government facility to be experimented on. He’d had enough of the state’s hospitality to last him a lifetime, so thanks, but no fucking thanks.

And that could have been it. Should have been it, but of course Tania and Dreamweaver wouldn’t leave well enough alone. They started showing up at the Gallagher house at all hours, whenever they knew they could get Mickey alone. They accosted him on the way to the Alibi, they sat down next to him on the L, and they left him pictures of puppies with little notes saying stuff like “Only YOU can SAVE him from BURNING. Have a HEART”.

It was exhausting. Fearing the retribution of the cartel hadn’t anything on fearing seeing Tania and Dreamweaver’s disappointed-yet-still-somehow-hopeful-and-terribly-determined faces appear in a crowd, or round a corner, or on the porch when he went out for his evening smoke.

Mickey began to lose sleep. He’d spend the nights tossing and turning, which led to him staying in bed half the day to catch up on much needed rest, and he was often so tired he couldn’t bring himself to put on proper clothes or go outside the door the whole day. 

Ian was on his ass about getting a job; he didn’t get that Mickey had a job, and that job was not getting lured into sacrificing his life for the greater good. If Ian didn’t like the prospects of being a prison widow, how offensive wouldn’t he find the prospect of being an actual widower, after his husband got blown to bits by some big bad villain?

It got to the point of Ian initiating a sex strike to force Mickey to get “a real job”, which struck Mickey as really fucking unfair, considering how all he was trying to do was make sure Ian even had a husband to refuse to fuck.

Enough was enough. Something had to be done. Fortunately for Mickey – and unfortunately for Tania and Dreamweaver – Mickey had a guy for everything. As annoying as The Guardians were, Mickey didn’t have the heart to see them killed, but he figured that having them kidnapped and shipped off to some sweatshop on the other side of the world would serve the same purpose. He felt a little bad about it, sure, but he had given them plenty of chances to fuck off. Not his fault they couldn’t respect a fucking boundary.

Mickey called Johnny, told him the score, and a few night later Johnny called Mickey to tell him it was done.

It was done. Over. Mickey would finally be able go about his life in peace again, giving all his attention to his husband and doing his outmost to make him the happiest man alive every single day, even when Ian was annoying as hell and started asking pointless fucking questions about how Mickey was in such great shape even though he never did as much as one single curl up.

I see. So… you’re telling me that you have secret superpowers.

Yeah. Except, not actually secret anymore. ‘Cause, you know, you told me we shouldn’t have secrets.

… yeah, that was three months ago.

Guess it must have slipped my mind, huh.

Must have. But let me get this straight: you couldn’t get a real job because you were busy dodging secret agents, and your muscles are the result of you getting bitten by some magic robot—

Radioactive motherfucker bug from hell.

—and not you sneaking down to the basement to do weights and cardio almost every day?

… oh.

Yeah, oh. Carl told me about it, asshole. He noticed you using some of the stuff down there. Don’t get why you’d wanna keep that a secret though?

…

Mick. We have to be honest with each other, remember?

Jesus Christ, I don’t know, okay? I don’t know.

Okay.

Guess the first time was back when you had that dip a couple of months after the wedding. Few times after that, if we had a fight or whatever and I needed to let off some steam. Then you started working and sometimes I got bored watching TV all day but you were all mopey about your shitty job and me not having any and you have this thing about your body—

I don’t have a thing about my body.

­—so I didn’t really wanna rub your face in me having all that time to work out when you could barely squeeze in dozen push-ups in the evening. And I guess I didn’t really want anyone to know that I… cared, or whatever.

Cared? About what? Being healthy? Looking good? Being strong?

Whatever, man, I told I don’t fucking know. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, ‘cause it was a radioactive motherfucker bug from hell that did it.

Of course it was. Come here. Show me what that bio enhanced body of yours can do.

---

Ahahahahahaha, would you look at that. I tried to meta it anyway. 😭😭😭

You might reasonably ask about Mickey’s visit to Kev Fit – how does that fit? WELL, I rather imagine that whatever Mickey does in that basement is enough to keep him fit but still not SUPER hardcore? So when he starts worrying about Ian thinking him weaker than, he decides to take it up a notch and do it properly in a real(ish) gym? And his comment about “not remembering how much working out sucks” is part of the whole “not wanting anyone to know this is something I care to do on the regular”… Yeah, it’s pretty weak. All in all, I’d say the radioactive motherfucker bug from hell is still our best bet. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This is probably the last time I have one of them tell the other a story this week, but I make no promises. These little ficlets don’t tend to go as planned. (Ha! She said, as if there was a plan to begin with. Oh, well. I guess it’s working out so far.)

[maryenette-writes]

How to Fall in Love and Out of Love [Tim Drake x Reader]

A/N: I personally don’t think this was very good. It went in a direction I didn’t intend and if I make a part two, then it would be in the direction I intended (without making an ‘alternate story’). Not sure if it’s any good tbh

Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader

Warning: None

Word Count: 3705

You weren’t the epitome of a model human being.

You knew that.

You tried to be grateful for the things you had. A roof over your head, food on your table, parents who loved you, even though they may not be very supportive of you as of right now, and a job… even if it wasn’t a decent one. It was enough to get by and that’s what you needed right now. As such, you were a bit rough around the edges. You weren’t graceful or stunning by any standards, at least you believed you weren’t. You didn’t have time to put much effort into your appearance, if you could afford it. Still, you were grateful for what you had.

Tim changed all that for you.

Your meeting was picturesque; he always bought coffee from the cafe you worked at, right across the Wayne Enterprises headquarters. Most workers would opt to buy from the cafe inside the building, but Tim claimed he liked the way you made his order—you knew specifically what he liked and always made it that way. He appreciated it, and in turn, he made you feel appreciated.

For you, someone who left home the moment you graduated high school to pursue your dreams of being a singer, someone who had spent the last few years navigating the city terrain alone with little to no help, his appreciation was welcomed with open arms. Admittedly, you had a bit of a crush on him, but considering the difference between the two of you, you thought it would not work.

But one rainy day, he came in, drenched from head to toe, with the silliest smile on his face. He apologised for getting the floor wet and asked for the usual. You were puzzled for why would he run through the rain to get a cup of coffee? Surely he could survive one afternoon without it? You asked him about it when you served him, and he admitted that he also wanted to escape from the leery eyes of the shareholders for a moment. He then told you about his troubles, how he had recently been promoted and everyone was doubting his abilities. They whispered devilish lies about him—how he was incompetent, how he only got his position due to his connections, how his parents never wanted him. The gullible shareholders voiced their opposition on his promotion, and this sent him on a spiral of work that kept growing. 

“I just need one afternoon where I don’t have to deal with all that,” he sighed, “sorry if I’m overstaying my welcome.” 

He kept apologising. Why would he keep apologising?

You shook your head. “Don’t be. There are no customers here, I doubt anyone would come in with this rain. Stay for as long as you like.” You said it casually, but inside your heart was racing.

“Thank you,” he said, a shy smile appearing on his lips.

That afternoon, you and him talked for hours. He told you about his work while you told him about yours. Both of you exchanged stories and histories, passions and worries. It was the first time you felt truly connected with someone, and perhaps that was why you fell so hard. He was polite and courteous, a welcome change from the hard personalities you dealt in the big city. He seemed not to mind your occasional sharp tongue and slip-ups, and listened to you when you poured your heart out about your dreams and your concerns about everything--your financial situation, your failures to find a gig, your loneliness, and your parents. He listened and not once did he judge you. It made you fuzzy. 

But alas, all good things must come to an end.

When the torrential downpour stopped, Tim apologised profusely for cutting your conversation short and left, taking a moment to turn back to look at you before leaving. Sighing, you took the money from his table. When you counted the money, you were shocked that he tipped you so well. You made a mental note to thank him the next time. Then as you cleaned the table, you noticed something hastily scribbled on a piece of napkin. You picked it up and couldn’t help but laugh.

Scratch thanking him next time. Now you could just text him.

Falling in love with Tim was effortless. Becoming a couple wasn’t that much harder. From the moment you two truly spoke, that one rainy day, the two of you just clicked. 

It was kind of a mutual confession. You two said it at the same time during a video call. To say your heart was racing at that moment was an understatement.

The next time you two met, it wasn’t at a cafe but on your first date. Tim was dressed up as handsomely as always. His no doubt expensive suit made you feel inferior with your thrifted clothes, but he didn’t seem to care.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you with a hint of redness on his cheeks. He avoided eye contact with you.

“Thanks! You-you too!” 

Tim led you to his car, opened the door for you and closed it when you got into his car—he was a true gentleman. His car was spotless, and although you did not know the specific model, it was an expensive brand. It must’ve cost thousands.

“Where are we going?” you asked. Tim had insisted he plan the first date, and while you hated not knowing—due to financial reasons—you caved into his insistence. 

“That’s a surprise,” he answered, glancing at you. You huffed.

“Tell me at least, am I overdressed or underdressed, because seeing how you are looking, I feel like I am severely underdressed.”

Tim laughed at your statement. “You look perfect [F/N]. Don’t worry.” Your cheeks felt warm when you heard that.

It felt strange being with him after the confession. You had clicked so well and talked and texted for hours, but now that both of your feelings have unfolded, you were so flustered. You hoped it wouldn’t be like this all night, or else you wouldn’t be able to bear it.

Tim seemed to have sensed your unease, so he spoke right after that thought. “How are your auditions going? Did you get any callbacks?”

“No,” you sighed, “but that’s okay. There are plenty of other gigs in the future. Someone is bound to book me!” You tried to be as optimistic as possible, not wanting to possibly bring down his mood. 

“I’m sure you’ll get it soon,” he reassured.

“How do you know? You haven’t even heard my stuff,” you scoffed. You didn’t mean to sound rude. You cursed yourself quietly for that.

But Tim didn’t seem to mind. He never minded. “I know because it’s you.” 

And there he goes again, making your heart flutter.

“Thanks Tim,” you said quietly. You truly appreciated his kindhearted nature.

“No worries,” he said, “and look, we’re here!” Tim turned into the underground parking and found a parking spot close to the elevator. When he turned off the engine, he quickly got out and rushed to your door, opening it for you like the gentleman he was. You could only mutter a shy ‘thank you’.

When you got to the restaurant Tim led you to, you couldn’t help but gasp, both in amazement and horror.

“Tim!” you whispered loudly, “isn’t this too… too… expensive?” You said the last word quietly, a bit embarrassed. 

Tim waved a hand. “It’s fine,” he reassured, “I have enough to pay for the both of us.”

“B-but…” you started to protest, but then a waiter approached the two of you, and when he led you in, you knew it was too late to bail. The waiter handed you the menu, and you almost had a heart attack when you saw the prices. By the gods, some of them were more expensive than your entire outfit, and you definitely knew you didn’t have enough to pay this. You tried your hardest not to let your face show your panic, but it was useless. 

Tim reached out and held your hand, giving it a small squeeze. “[F/N], it’ll be fine, trust me.” Sadly, you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. However, you didn’t want to bring down the mood, and on a first date no less, so you told yourself not to let it get to you. Ignoring that, the rest of the night went wonderfully. The two of you eased into conversation and all was well. When it was time to end the night though, the worry you submerged suddenly showed itself again, and it was more apparent than ever. The waiter came with the bill and you swallowed. You definitely did not bring enough for this. Tim took it, of course, and he immediately provided the money without batting an eye. You counted several hundred at least.

You felt so horrible.

But Tim seemed so happy, so you decided not to raise your voice once more. You allowed him to escort you to his car, take you home, and even walk you to the entrance of your apartment building. However, you didn’t dare allow him to walk you to your door.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said quietly.

“No problem! I’m glad I could finally treat you,” he responded happily. Your heart warmed, but there was a cold streak that you couldn’t get rid of.

“Drive home safely.”

“Thanks.”

You turned towards the door, ready to scan your keycard to enter, when Tim stopped you. When you turned back towards him, you were surprised with soft lips on yours. It was short and shy.

“Goodnight [F/N],” he murmured, smiling shyly before heading off to his car.

You touched your lips gently, trying to process what happened. When you did though, your felt yourself smiling too.

That smile wouldn’t leave you until the next morning.

If only your relationship had been as wonderful as the first night, but you should’ve noticed right away. 

“Tim, you shouldn’t have.” You wanted it to sound endearing, but the statement came out more exasperated than you intended.

“I really want to treat you [F/N],” he said, placing down the last shopping bag. 

“This is the… what? Seventh? Eighth time?” You sighed. 

“I haven’t gotten the chance to see you much, let me do this for you.” Tim said. 

You held your ground though.

“Treating me is buying me… I don’t know, an ice-cream, or flowers, or something. Buying tons of designer clothes probably worth more than everything I own combined is not treating me, it’s more like buying me.” You gasped and covered your mouth after this. You didn’t mean to say that.

Tim grew still and quiet. It was silent for a whole minute, and it was suffocating. He refused to look at you. 

“I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that—“

“You did,” he interrupted, “that’s why you said it.”

You sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that though…”

“Then how did you mean it?”

You took a seat on your sofa, which squeaked upon bearing your weight. “I just don’t want you to buy me things or think you need to buy me things to make me happy. It just… came out wrongly.” 

“But what’s wrong with treating you?” Tim asked sadly.

“Nothing it’s—“ you sighed, “you always treat me though. On our dates, you pay for our meals. Whenever we go out, you always buy me presents, and treat me with expensive gifts. I don’t know what to do with all them… if you want to treat me, all you need is to spend time with me. That’s all I want and ask for.”

It wasn’t the first time you two argued about this—well, argue as in you telling Tim to stop and him saying he would but not actually stopping. You adored Tim with all your heart, but you felt horrible every time he bought you something new. You understood if it was the first few weeks of the relationship, but after three months, you thought he would learn of your tendency to avoid… well… expensive things.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes downcast and his mouth turned downwards. Oh how you hated that look. It just made your heart twist.

“No… no don’t be,” you said, “I’m sorry too, for being harsh.”

You held out your hand, and he took it without hesitation. The two of you pulled each other close, meeting in the middle. It was like a metaphor of what you hoped the relationship would be—you and him meeting on the border of your two different worlds, two different personalities, two different people. But Tim leaned a little too hard and pushed you back, and you pushed back to keep your balance.

“I hate arguing with you,” you said.

“Me too.”

You glanced at all the bags he brought up to your apartment, mentally sighing at your ever growing closet collection. Still, you knew you shouldn’t be too hard on your lover who is only wanting to convey his love for you. You two just had different ways of loving, that was all. Yours was… time spent together, while his was… presents.

The problem was, as more presents piled on, you grew restless and feel the need to give back. You hated that feeling. Perhaps it was a result of living in this city, where nothing was free and everything had a price. You couldn’t help but feel like Tim’s gifts had prices as well, prices you couldn’t repay. It was why you wanted him to stop, but he couldn’t seem to understand that.

But you were optimistic. Tim was always caring and considerate. Perhaps he felt he owed you too, for love. That was why he kept giving you things and treating you. You were optimistic in that maybe, in the future, you and him would come to a mutual understanding and he would stop gifting you presents. 

The perfect balance in the middle.

You stared at the food in front of you, the last of its warmth leaving it as the minute ticks by. The sounds of the city, barely contained by your thin walls, were all that accompanied you as you sat in your apartment, alone. 

Tim had promised that he would come.

He promised this time.

With a heavy sigh and a grumbling stomach, you grabbed the meal you made and popped it into the microwave. Your eyes burned but you refused to allow yourself to cry. 

It wasn’t the first time.

You knew it wouldn’t be the last.

It has been a little over a year since you and Tim started this relationship, and things hadn’t gotten better for you. There would be moments, of course. Moments where he held your body after a restless night, where the two of you enjoyed the silence in each other’s company, where the two of you spent the whole night up watching movies, where he would take you on midnight adventures to the outskirts of the city. But… despite all that, there were more nights of loneliness, more unanswered calls, more rain checks as he prioritised everything above you, and an apology in the form of a gift would always follow. You hated it but he made it a habit. 

How did it get to this?

Was it you?

Was it him?

And could it be salvaged?

The beep of the microwave interrupted your thoughts. You grabbed your reheated food, brought it back to the table, sat down and began to eat. As you were halfway through HIS meal, a notification from your phone appeared.

I’m so sorry [F/N], I can’t make it tonight :( Something urgent came up with the family that I have to take care of.

You sighed. Always something urgent—with work or family or something. It’s always an excuse. You decided not to respond to him. You were tired. 

But then again, Tim is an important figure. Not only was he a public figure, he also has a lot of responsibilities within one of the largest companies in the world. Not to mention his family is quite high profile, and close, so he had familial obligations to attend to no doubt.

You played with the remainder of your food. 

He hadn’t even introduced you to his family.

You wondered if anyone knew. Tim tried his best to keep you away from the public eye and business. You understood that he was worried about the impact of it on you. 

But you were an aspiring artist. You should be prepared for this. Sure, you only had a few big gigs here and there, with the largest being the opening to a charity event, but you were slowly making a name for yourself. You knew that your career choice could expose you to the media and the public, and you were prepared for it. So why? Why did he keep you a secret?

Could it be… he was ashamed of you?

You shook your head. No… no that couldn’t possibly be it. It was Tim you’re talking about. Your sweet Tim, who always reminded you of his love and devotion to you. Tim, who no doubt brought out the best of you. Tim, who saw only the good in you.

He couldn’t be ashamed of you.

Your phone rang. You already knew who it was.

“Hello?” 

“[F/N], hey,” Tim’s voice sounded familiar through the phone, “I wasn’t sure if you got my message but something urgent came up—“

“No I got it,” you interrupted.

“Oh… are—are you angry?” He asked hesitantly.

You took a while to answer. “No… no I’m not… just disappointed, that’s all.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this.”

“It’s okay,” you said, the lie slipping effortlessly out of your lips, “maybe next time, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sounded relieved. “I got to go now… I love you [F/N].” Unlike other times, it didn’t make your heart swell.

“Love you too.”

Why was it getting harder to say it?

You prepared for it.

You prepared for the moment.

You prepared for the questions, the tears, the way he cried as he asked why, and those beautiful eyes of his, once so full of joy, now full of confusion and sadness.

You prepared for it, but fuck did it still hurt.

It really was inevitable, your parting.

You loved Tim with all your heart, but you couldn’t love him in the way that you used to anymore. You began to expect the disappointment, his absences, his apologies. You grew used to it. It was as if you were single again. And when he was there, you didn’t feel the same butterflies in your stomach.

You stopped denying it. You stopped being optimistic and finding excuses and started to face the reality.

“I’m truly sorry Tim,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes, “but my decision is final. I want to end our relationship.”

As Tim left your apartment, the relationship flashed before your eyes. You recalled the first time he walked through the door of the cafe, his nervous smile and his charming demeanour. You recalled that one rainy day where the two of you talked for hours, late nights texting him, your first date, his first gifts, cuddling him all night and day and your adventures through the city. Each place in your apartment held a memory of him. 

But somewhere along the way, he became more absent and the memories grew dark. It became waiting for him, being left on dates, him not showing up, his secrets and his tendency to prioritise everything else but you.

You understood that he had a life. You did too. But perhaps that was why it was never bound to work.

He was in a different place in his life. He was busy with his family and his work, and he couldn’t make room for you. And to be honest, you didn’t want him to. You didn’t want him to sacrifice his family or work for you. You didn’t want him to sacrifice anything. To ask that of him would be so selfish of you, and as selfish as you were, even you knew that was wrong. 

As for you, a person who valued time over everything else, his inability to make time for you was difficult. He gifted you of course, but gifts meant little to you after a while, especially as they were so frequent. They lost their meaning. It was like the word “sorry”. He always gifted you something as an apology, and while he made the effort to do that, you just wanted time with him. As someone who was always busy, he couldn’t do the one thing you wanted. 

It damaged what you two had, and that damage became irreversible.

Part of you suspected that this went on for so long because you loved the way he made you feel. He made you feel loved of course, but you also loved the person you were when you were with him. You loved the person he saw you as. As someone who had been met with nothing but failure since coming to Gotham City, he was the first person who made you feel like anything but a failure and you clung onto that for a little too long, chasing that high.

So in that sense, you’re also accountable for the damage of the relationship.

You still loved him, of course. You always will. But he needed to focus on his life and you should focus on yours. You hoped that one day, he would be in a place where he had room and time for a lover, and he wouldn’t need to sacrifice anything. You hoped that he found someone that spoke his love language, that understood his form of love and made him feel the same way that he made you feel.

You hoped for the best for him.

But as for you… you had to close the door between you two. 

So, with one last glance at his disappearing figure through your apartment window, you closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and turned around, pushing Tim out of your mind for good.

[jordanstrophe]

Going Once, Going Twice, part 3

CW: Whump, Auction Whump, Pet Whump, Trafficking, Slavery, Restraints, Cages, Manhandling, Gag, Trauma, A Pet being “chipped” through the wrist

((Overall, Peter just kinda having a rough night. Fluff will strike eventually.))

Masterlist

The room was distant, his body felt numb. He couldn’t feel the tears staining his face, or his feet being drug across the floor. He could only feel the hands wrapped around him, pulling him along, but even they felt unreal. 

In an instant, it felt like someone slammed his body against a wall. His vision jostled and his body ached. He opened his eyes, and realized he was laying on his side, he had been tossed in a large metal bar cage. He was too shaken and dizzy to try and sit up to look around. He was just tired. Tired, and hungry, and cold... And apparently, sold.

“Oh have mercy...” Winola crumpled into a seat backstage. She buried her face within her trembling hands. When she opened her eyes, there was a glass of water hovering in her vision. 

“Thanks Neal...” She muttered, taking the glass from his hand. “So... He did it.” Neal shrugged.

“Yeah, He did it. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to ask that of him, but the Baron...” She shuttered.

“Ma’am, pardon me, but you shouldn’t have gotten involved in that.” Neal tsked.

“Quiet now, I know what I’m doing. And besides, Rob owed me a favor.” 

“Winola!” Robert rasped, trying not to raise his voice, speed-walking past the workers backstage, who all had eyes on him. The man who had fought the Baron, and won.

“Ah! And there’s our lucky winner now. Congratulations, sir.” She smiled. 

“Is an explanation free? or do I have to pay millions for that as well.” Robert sassed.

“Oh hush you, now come on over.” She waved, pulling him over into her room. Neal guarded the door from the outside, as Winola slowly draped herself in a old rocking chair with a groan. Robert leaned his shoulder against a wall with his arms crossed expectantly.

“We both know what the Baron is known for. Buys a pet, they mysteriously “run away”, never to be seen again. He gets taken in for allegations of Pet abuse, pays his way out, everyone forgets, repeat.” She muttered.

“I’m aware. Everyone is aware, and as sick as it is, there’s really nothing we can do about it.” Robert sighed.

“Yes there is. We just did. You saved that boy's life.” She pointed.

“But now what? I own a human being, what am I supposed to do with him?"

“Take him home. Feed him, care for him, love him.” She shrugged. “Okay, I’m being half serious here. I needed someone with the money who could outbid the Baron. If you really don’t want him that badly, I’ll look for some nice owner who can take him off your hands, just give me a week.” 

“So I spent five million to rent a boy for a week? Do you realize how insane this is?” Robert argued.

 “Don’t raise your voice at an old woman, young man. I didn’t ask you to bid five million, you didn’t have to bid anything. Besides, you have money, because you literally don’t spend any of it. I’ll get you paid back as much as I can, but I wasn’t expecting you to drop five million.” She waved. Robert took a deep breath, with his fingertips rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, don’t worry about it. What’s done is done. I’ll care for him for a week, but please try and find someone who will take good care of him, this week.” Robert begged.

“Good, do be patient with him, he’s going to be very frightened. But if anything happens, or you need help, bring him in. I wouldn’t mind seeing him again, he’s a sweetie.” She smiled.

“Hey, I’m frightened too, where’s my hug-” “-Oh shut it.” She snapped, chuckling at him. 

“You bonded with him. Didn’t you?” Robert sighed. She quickly struggled to her feet, shooing him out the door “Go on now and collect your prize.” She waved, shutting the door in his face while chuckling. “Give those two a week and he’s going to bond with him too.” She giggled to herself.

<><>Later<><>

A loud clattering sound woke him. His vision was flipped from laying on the floor, but the could make out a man opening his cage, and was standing at it’s entrance. Reality struck, as arm wrapped around his chest and pulled him to his feet. All he could do was whimper as he placed in a hard metal chair. He gasped as it felt like dozens of hands grabbed him at every side, strapping his arms, legs, chest and waist down. One of his arms was specifically strapped out further, twisted upwards. He panicked, but before he could even cry out, his jaw was wrenched open as a wooden bar was shoved between his teeth. 

“Don’t move.” A voice growled. His sight was blurry with tears, but he could see someone looming over him, with something cold pressing hard into his wrist.

 “W--Wai-AAAAA!” He screamed, his arm shooting with sharp pain. It felt like someone had just impaled his wrists with a sharp spike. He bit down on the wooden bit hard, desperately trying to rip his wrists away, biting back the rest of his cries. His wrist was then gently wrapped with a white bandage and he was given a rough pat on the cheek. His breath shuttered, as he sobbed, his cries muffled.

“Sir! He’s all ready for you.” The man set down the chipping gun, waving Robert over who was just now showing up. Robert shot a glance at the young man who now apparently belonged to him, restrained, sobbing, twitching, hyperventilating. His wrist slightly bleeding through a fresh new bandage.  

‘’He’s just been chipped, and I see here he’s been fully paid for. Must have really wanted this one, huh?” The man chuckled. “If you need any help getting him to your car, we have a transport team that can take him, if you have a cage or a trunk set up in the vehicle.” The man said.

“I-I.. That won’t be necessary. I think I’ll handle him on my own, thank you.” Robert shuttered.

“Oh! Well that’s new... In that case, do you have a muzzle and restraints? Perhaps you would like him sedated?” The man asked, quite casually.

“What? No! None of those, I’ll walk him, if that’s fine.” Robert argued.

The man broke down laughing hysterically, Robert would have felt flattered if he had said something funny, which he hadn’t. 

“You uh... You didn’t come very prepared, did ya?” The man laughed, wiping away a tear. “Pets who have just been sold are always shaken up, so they tend to be stubborn, sometimes even aggressive. I highly suggest at least a muzzle and straps, sir.” The man huffed.

As convenient as that would be, Robert liked to think he was a decent man. He didn’t want to manhandle a traumatized boy, he just looked so scared... He just needed some time and space, and he would come around when he was ready... Goodness what was he doing. He was already planning strategies on how to handle him when he got home. It was only going to be a week at most.

“I’ve got it, really.” He said, as Peter was unstrapped from the chair, wooden bit pulled from his teeth, but the cuffs stayed, with a firm hand holding him down. “In that case, keep the cuffs. You paid enough already. Besides, something tells me you might need them.” The man chuckled.

 Robert bent down in front of Peter and put a gentle hand on his knee. “Hi there.” He smiled. Peter was gasping for air, trembling, holding his wrist tightly with his bound hand. It was around three AM, he was exhausted, slightly nodding off, but still in shock. “I’m just going to pick you up okay?” Robert asked. 

Peter looked up at him, was this the man who owned him now? He couldn’t see him in the darkness of the crowd, but he recognized his voice. The same voice shouting millions in his name. He yelped when he was picked up in the man’s arms, the pain in his wrists, fear and adrenaline combined kicked his defensive instincts hard, and before he could even stop himself, he bit the man’s shoulder.

Hard.

“Sir! This is why we use the muzzle!’’ The man yelled, running over to help.

“No!” Robert yelled, not giving the man a chance to touch him. “It’s-It’s fine... He’s not hurting me, he just has a latch on my coat...’’ Robert grunted.

Peter’s could feel the vibrations in the man’s neck as he spoke. He wanted so badly to just let go and crumble at the man’s feet, apologize and beg for mercy. But he couldn’t move. The shock kept him frozen, being carried bridal style, bound wrists gripping the man’s coat collar, teeth biting into his shoulder and mouth full of material.

“It’s alright...” Robert whispered to him, readjusting his grip around his trembling figure. He carried him through the parking lot, it was pitch black out, with only the streetlights luminating the vehicles around. He could make out distant scenes of other buyers loading their new Pets, some being thrown in a trunk, while some vehicles had entire cages in the pickup. The air was frozen, he could feel the man shaking uncontrollably in his grasp. He could only pull him in close to his chest, hopping that provided some warmth. 

He opened the back of his pickup truck and climbed in. He laid the man down in the backseat, who still had a death grip on his coat shoulder.  He placed a hand on his tear-soaked cheek. 

“I’m letting you go now, so can you let go for me too?” He soothed, the man’s eyes looked up at him pitifully, almost apologetically. Robert sighed as he unbuttoned his coat, and shuffled it off his shoulders. The man came off him along with his coat, as he laid him down and tucked the rest of his coat around him. He climbed into the driver's seat and glanced back. He still had his jaw locked onto the coat, but his eyes were half closed. 

“It’s okay. Just try and get some sleep, everything’s alright.” Robert soothed, turning up the heat in the car, as he was also shivering. He hoped the man would be tired enough he wouldn’t cause too much trouble for the first night. 

(press X to doubt)

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @yet-another-heathen @sillypizzazineoperator @freefallingup13 @alien-octopus

ʕっ• ᴥ • ʔっ *:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

[reading-writing-revolution]

Ron Howard

January 24 at 5:41 AM —

I'm a liberal, but that doesn't mean what a lot of you apparently think it does. Let's break it down, shall we? Because quite frankly, I'm getting a little tired of being told what I believe and what I stand for. Spoiler alert: not every liberal is the same, though the majority of liberals I know think along roughly these same lines:

1. I believe a country should take care of its weakest members. A country cannot call itself civilized when its children, disabled, sick, and elderly are neglected. PERIOD.

2. I believe healthcare is a right, not a privilege. Somehow that's interpreted as "I believe Obamacare is the end-all, be-all." This is not the case. I'm fully aware that the ACA has problems, that a national healthcare system would require everyone to chip in, and that it's impossible to create one that is devoid of flaws, but I have yet to hear an argument against it that makes "let people die because they can't afford healthcare" a better alternative. I believe healthcare should be far cheaper than it is, and that everyone should have access to it. And no, I'm not opposed to paying higher taxes in the name of making that happen.

3. I believe education should be affordable. It doesn't necessarily have to be free (though it works in other countries so I'm mystified as to why it can't work in the US), but at the end of the day, there is no excuse for students graduating college saddled with five- or six-figure debt.

4. I don't believe your money should be taken from you and given to people who don't want to work. I have literally never encountered anyone who believes this. Ever. I just have a massive moral problem with a society where a handful of people can possess the majority of the wealth while there are people literally starving to death, freezing to death, or dying because they can't afford to go to the doctor. Fair wages, lower housing costs, universal healthcare, affordable education, and the wealthy actually paying their share would go a long way toward alleviating this. Somehow believing that makes me a communist.

5. I don't throw around "I'm willing to pay higher taxes" lightly. If I'm suggesting something that involves paying more, well, it's because I'm fine with paying my share as long as it's actually going to something besides lining corporate pockets or bombing other countries while Americans die without healthcare.

6. I believe companies should be required to pay their employees a decent, livable wage. Somehow this is always interpreted as me wanting burger flippers to be able to afford a penthouse apartment and a Mercedes. What it actually means is that no one should have to work three full-time jobs just to keep their head above water. Restaurant servers should not have to rely on tips, multibillion-dollar companies should not have employees on food stamps, workers shouldn't have to work themselves into the ground just to barely make ends meet, and minimum wage should be enough for someone to work 40 hours and live.

7. I am not anti-Christian. I have no desire to stop Christians from being Christians, to close churches, to ban the Bible, to forbid prayer in school, etc. (BTW, prayer in school is NOT illegal; *compulsory* prayer in school is - and should be - illegal). All I ask is that Christians recognize *my* right to live according to *my* beliefs. When I get pissed off that a politician is trying to legislate Scripture into law, I'm not "offended by Christianity" -- I'm offended that you're trying to force me to live by your religion's rules. You know how you get really upset at the thought of Muslims imposing Sharia law on you? That's how I feel about Christians trying to impose biblical law on me. Be a Christian. Do your thing. Just don't force it on me or mine.

8. I don't believe LGBT people should have more rights than you. I just believe they should have the *same* rights as you.

9. I don't believe illegal immigrants should come to America and have the world at their feet, especially since THIS ISN'T WHAT THEY DO (spoiler: undocumented immigrants are ineligible for all those programs they're supposed to be abusing, and if they're "stealing" your job it's because your employer is hiring illegally). I believe there are far more humane ways to handle undocumented immigration than our current practices (i.e., detaining children, splitting up families, ending DACA, etc).

10. I don't believe the government should regulate everything, but since greed is such a driving force in our country, we NEED regulations to prevent cut corners, environmental destruction, tainted food/water, unsafe materials in consumable goods or medical equipment, etc. It's not that I want the government's hands in everything -- I just don't trust people trying to make money to ensure that their products/practices/etc. are actually SAFE. Is the government devoid of shadiness? Of course not. But with those regulations in place, consumers have recourse if they're harmed and companies are liable for medical bills, environmental cleanup, etc. Just kind of seems like common sense when the alternative to government regulation is letting companies bring their bottom line into the equation.

11. I believe our current administration is fascist. Not because I dislike them or because I can’t get over an election, but because I've spent too many years reading and learning about the Third Reich to miss the similarities. Not because any administration I dislike must be Nazis, but because things are actually mirroring authoritarian and fascist regimes of the past.

12. I believe the systemic racism and misogyny in our society is much worse than many people think, and desperately needs to be addressed. Which means those with privilege -- white, straight, male, economic, etc. -- need to start listening, even if you don't like what you're hearing, so we can start dismantling everything that's causing people to be marginalized.

13. I am not interested in coming after your blessed guns, nor is anyone serving in government. What I am interested in is the enforcement of present laws and enacting new, common sense gun regulations. Got another opinion? Put it on your page, not mine.

14. I believe in so-called political correctness. I prefer to think it’s social politeness. If I call you Chuck and you say you prefer to be called Charles I’ll call you Charles. It’s the polite thing to do. Not because everyone is a delicate snowflake, but because as Maya Angelou put it, when we know better, we do better. When someone tells you that a term or phrase is more accurate/less hurtful than the one you're using, you now know better. So why not do better? How does it hurt you to NOT hurt another person?

15. I believe in funding sustainable energy, including offering education to people currently working in coal or oil so they can change jobs. There are too many sustainable options available for us to continue with coal and oil. Sorry, billionaires. Maybe try investing in something else.

16. I believe that women should not be treated as a separate class of human. They should be paid the same as men who do the same work, should have the same rights as men and should be free from abuse. Why on earth shouldn’t they be?

I think that about covers it. Bottom line is that I'm a liberal because I think we should take care of each other. That doesn't mean you should work 80 hours a week so your lazy neighbor can get all your money. It just means I don't believe there is any scenario in which preventable suffering is an acceptable outcome as long as money is saved.

Copy & paste if you want.

[writeangstime]

Fortune teller (Thomas Shelby x Reader)

Title: Fortune Teller Fandom: Peaky Blinders Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader Genre: Drama (a bit) Warnings: None right now Summary: You are a novelty in town and no one knows what you are up to, so naturally you are the new talk of the town. Are you friend or foe? Thomas needs to find out and you are not helping.

Author’s note: So it is late in here and I wanted to post it right now because tomorrow my work will kill me. I’d love to make a series with that, so if anyone of you actually read this and would think that the continuation is a good idea, hit me up anywhere you want.

Every new face in Birmingham was an interesting thing that somehow could be either a game changer or another face in the crowd, but there was something behind them. A family name, a reputation that could tarnish even the most spotless personality or character that, blossoming in the hard times, showed the best or maybe even more, the worst of the person. But you didn't.

You were something of a mystery that nobody in town could ever wrap their head around it. Because one day a black car moved through the streets, stopping in front of one shop and you stepped out of it, nonchalantly as you belonged to this world and no force in the world could ever stop you. Well-tailored clothes that nicely wrapped around your posture and moved swiftly for whatever your goal was. It might be an oddity or an anecdote that would reappear from time to time when the locals would be bored and the gossip source would run dry. But somehow, you decided to stay.

Half of the Small Heath found an excuse to be there the day you decided to move into one of the empty houses, the men walking all around the place, coming in and out of the place as they brought more and more of the things the people around this place could only call "exotic". It was fair to be said that it was the best moment to consider if there are enough safety locks on your doors that would stop some people too interested in buying a decent amount of food from even one of those expensive rugs or pretty vase. But then, when they noticed a bit more about the people who helped you, they knew better than to try anything.  Then, of course, they expected that you would go out, meet your neighbours, get them to know yourself and pull out any kind of reason why someone like you moved to the place like this. But no, before they could learn anything basic about you, even something like your name, you disappeared inside your house and didn't show up for a while.

It couldn't go unnoticed to Peaky Blinders, especially since Thomas preferred to hold his hand on the pulse, so she had to know what your presence can offer. Even if this would be nothing, it would be the best option as he already had enough troubles without a suspicious stranger lurking around. To his utter disappointment, the information about you was basically non-existent - no knowledge what was your name, where you came from or where you have been born, and even how you came up with that small fortune on your own. This left a bitter taste, because not always he could admit to himself that he was struggling with something. Not that he wanted to, defeat being left out of his conscience when he left still smoking shores of France, but this issue could bring troubles in the future - were you planning any action here that would shuffle the local powers? Did you come for reasons that were only your own and shouldn’t influence others? Tommy even sent people to shop you stepped in when you first set your foot in town, but the only thing he learned from that was that you ordered the weekly groceries, paying in advance. Why were you hiding? 

***

Pushing the heavy wood of the doors in front of you, you couldn’t help but frown a little, feeling the heatwave from a lack of good ventilation, the scent of alcohol and something that probably was vomit and hearing the roaring of the drunken men, but at the same time, this was far from keeping you from entering into this place. Smoothly moving through the entrance, you didn’t even establish the glance with people who gazed at you, both the one that were too blazed out to even recognise your presence in this place or the one that were too vigil to ignore the fact that you decided to step into the Garrison and decided to show yourself to the world in the den of the wolves. But little on your face did credit to any emotions you’ve been feeling right now and as you hover over the darkened wood, looking straightly into the bartender’s face, there was no way of telling what hid behind your stern eyes. 

“Pardon my curious inquiry, but I was wondering if Mister Thomas Shelby is free for a brief meeting this evening” you stated your reason, a small smile creeping a bit in the corner of your mouth as you measured the person in front of you with a gentle yet somehow strict look, almost like you had an upper hand in this situation. Your interlocutor probably didn’t share your views on that matter as he barley glanced in your ways, the hands dedicated to the tab and glass he was holding, almost like, unlike some if this place, he wasn’t phased with your sudden appearance.

“I am afraid Mister Shelby is not here, and even if he was, I am afraid we have very rigid principles about his privacy”. It was like a formula that kids have to memorize at school and somehow it made you think a bit of the scolding that one could earn if they didn’t heed. Did the infamous Shelby brother hit his workers with the rulers if they misbehaved? Or was it already a sentence with a bullet? Rather not, the business would run dry with the number of executions.

“Ah, but you know, I am well aware that he is inside, so let’s say I consider this a friendly and outward visit. Something he didn’t bother with when we spoke about his efforts to invade my privacy. So what will we say, shall we introduce ourselves in a proper adult way, or the games of charade should continue?” Your nails started to tap a small rhythm on the countertop as you seemed to pay a little attention to the unfriendly gaze. This apparently worked in the way you wanted, partially at least, for the man in front of you moved his head to one of the boys that just stood up from his seat, going to the place you could only guess was private enough that setting foot there was almost a privilege. Mouthing the small ��thank you’, you moved away, hands nonchalantly put into your pocket as you decided to stand there and wait, not caring about your surroundings or the rumours that probably started to spread. You were here for only one thing and that thing was going to happen - at least this was what you could suspect when the man appeared in front of you, gesturing to follow him.

***

“I hope you understand that is rather an unusual circumstance and the decency requires to present yourself in more official ways….” the sentence made by Tommy was trailing at the end of his tongue as he left some space for the moment of your introduction. He predicted that sooner or later he would face you, but maybe not like that - with you sitting right in front of him comfortably spreading yourself in the chair like this was a chat with a friend you haven’t seen for a while and rather a curious gaze as you watched the light reflexes on the glass in front of you, carefully spinning it in your hand. Almost like you paid a little attention to this whole situation, even if you “arranged” it in the first place.

“Then we must thank the Lord for decency in this world and good people who know that time is money and one shouldn’t waste it” you commented with what was an almost singing and chirped tone, but at the same time gave some coldness that came mostly from your eyes, your own orbs meeting the ice blue ones. But for once, you leaned more to him, your hands now resting on your knees as you moved a bit closer, the everlasting smile not leaving your lips. “I am afraid that for the next month you will be stuck with my presence here, and that presence wouldn’t exactly follow your rules of decency”. 

The silence fell when he waited for more explanations coming from your lips, but once again, your interest seemed lost as you grabbed one of the grapes, looking at it with some kind of interest before your gaze once again returned to him. Though there was an urge to grith his teeth at this moment, he stopped himself, instead of that reaching his fingers to lift a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it up with the warmth of golden sparks. 

“An awfully specific period” he commented finally, noticing how you seemed to realise something in your thoughts as you tilted your head a bit, shrugging your arms with such an innocent demeanour one could believe there was nothing behind it. 

“One that can’t be helped in this matter. But I think we both can agree that there are certain things that can’t be rushed. Or can be, but with little...decency”. It almost made Thommy raise his eyebrows, the amount of the repetition and the prolonging almost bordering on being irritating. As well as your demeanour, the shroud of unknown that you loved to just hide behind when you felt comfortable like that. Was it the wise caution for anyone that came fresh into this town or an irritating habit of yours? He wanted to settle this, but once again, you were speaking before he managed to. 

“I came here tonight to mark my presence and knowledge to your doing, but neither the time nor the place is proper for the real introduction. Tomorrow you have some business on the horse races, so I guess this would be a good place to meet and talk” you came up with first reasonable words since you entered the room, and you stood up, preparing yourself to walk out of this room, knowing when you finished the talking that this was your time to go. Besides, you were a busy human being and there was much to do, with the night being still young. Only when your fingertips brushed the knob, you heard the low, smooth voice behind you. 

“You will get one hour. Nothing more” he spoke, no longer looking at you as he settled a bit, moving to take care of the business that was interrupted by your arrival. Nodding slightly, you opened the way in front of you, swiftly turning and shooting the Shelby man one last look before you produced a small laugh.

“An Eternity in an hour” Tommy could hear before the door closed, cutting you from his view, but sadly for him, not from his mind.