#If anyone wonders why we have credit card debt THIS is why.

[nevadancitizen]

-> PROLOGUE: THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA

synopsis: you meet with a mysterious woman on an old californian dock.

word count: ~850

ships: Arthur Morgan/modern!Reader, Van der Linde Gang & Reader

notes: inspired by @heart-of-gold-outlaw !! go read their modern reader fic i really like it. also we'll be getting into the actual time travel stuff after this teaser lololol :3

THE OLD SOUL OF AMERICA MASTERLIST

It’s a bracing, misty evening – supposed to be spring, but doesn’t feel like it. The waves are choppy and the gulls are huddled on the pylons with their beaks tucked under their wings, their feathers ruffling in the cold wind. 

Three hulking great ships, all freighters, are tied up on the beat-up dock. This isn’t one of those fashionable wharfs with dockworker unions or passenger liners – no pretty girls on their balconies, clinking champagne flutes to celebrate the start of the cruise. Just a couple of red-faced salts in pea jackets tramping by, trailing cigarette smoke, boots crunching on dried-up gull shit.

They spare you glances as they pass by, surely wondering what you were doing here in the early hours of the morning. Were you waiting for someone to get off work? Were you waiting for a drug deal? Or were you just admiring the way the waves spray water onto the dock?

(In reality, it was none of those. You’re waiting on something much worse.)

A woman, sleek and modern in style and rugged and worn in looks, approaches you. She has a quiet intensity about her — something about the way she squints against the ocean spray mixed with the permanent-looking scowl on her face. 

She tilts her head toward you, and you nod. You walk towards her and meet her halfway, leaning in close on her insistence. 

“You’re the one in need?” She asks softly. You just barely hear her over the waves crashing against the dock.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, just as soft. “It’s my sister’s daughter. My eleven-year-old niece. She’s… she’s in a really bad way.”

“What does she need?” The woman asks. 

“A pancreas,” you say. “She’s got acute recurrent pancreatitis. There aren’t a lot of affordable child-sized organs lying around. God knows I’ve turned not just California, but the entire Mojave upside-down trying to find one. I’ve called hospitals in Arizona, Nevada, even New Mexico. I – I’m not asking you to kill a child! I just… I need the money for the operation. It’ll put her on the waiting list, and… once we show the hospital we have the money, I’m sure she’ll be okay. Somehow.”

The woman narrows her eyes. “Why don’t you just take out a loan? Or take on debt?”

“I can’t,” you say. “None of us can. I foreclosed on my last house. My sister has thousands of dollars in credit card debt, counting all the interest. Please, just trust me when I say I need this money. I don’t think anyone has nearly half a million dollars in their junk drawer. If I did, why would I be here, asking you for it?”

The woman looks you over and tucks her jacket closer around her. The outline of a gun at her hip becomes glaringly obvious – she wants you to notice it.

“Ma’am, I’m begging you.” You clasp your hands together as tight as you can. “I come from a family of deadbeats and addicts. I was an addict myself, and I quit just to save money for her operation, but it’s just not enough. I need this money. I won’t misappropriate these funds – won’t use them to pay off other debts, won’t use them for drugs. Just… please, miss.”

The woman holds up her hand. “Stop groveling.”

What the fuck else am I supposed to do?! You shout in your head. I need money, and you’ve got the money! My niece is going to fucking die if I don’t get it!

Instead, you just nod politely and put your hands behind your back. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies. I’m sure you can understand my desperation.”

“Uh-huh,” the woman hums. “I can get you the money. Just give me your banking details and I can wire it to you.” 

You pull out a pre-prepared index card with your bank information written down. The woman checks that it has your full name, address, account number, and routing number before speaking again.

“Do you have life insurance?” She asks, as if offhandedly.

“Uh, yes?” You say, unsure. “It won’t come out to a lot, so I couldn’t have an “accident” at work. Maybe just under 200,000 dollars? Nowhere near enough to cover her operation.”

The woman hums and tucks the card into her pocket. “I’ll get you the money.”

“Thank you so, so much,” you say. “You have no idea what this means to me – no idea what you’ve done for me and my family.”

“I have some idea.” The woman’s hand lingers at her waist. It takes you a few seconds too long to notice that –

A loud sound. A raging pain. The bullet hit something vital, but doesn’t grant you the mercy of dying in that instant. 

You stagger back, holding yourself. “What…”

“You’re dumber than you look,” the woman says, her voice fading in and out. “I’m just helping your family.”

You inhale shakily and take a step back. There’s a sense of falling, and something cold surrounds you, but you can’t make out much of anything in this condition. 

The last thing you think before the black takes you? It’s May. Who the fuck gets shot in May?

[gatekeeper-watchman]

Our Wonderful Prosperous Economy

Our glorious and supreme leader tells us we have a wonderful and prosperous economy. Hogwash! We have and live in a false economy. Anyone who thinks we have a prosperous and growing economy is grossly misinformed and/or out of touch with our present reality. The fact is, our economy and our people have been raped and pillaged by the Corporatocracy and Power Elite, who govern our nation, for many years, and their efforts are ongoing as we speak. The downright truth is that the standard of living of the average person in this nation has been on a downhill course since the beginning of the eighties (ever since the Republicans came to office) and is continuing downward to this day. Our economy, as I said, is a false economy.

We are also told our GDP is up; Unemployment is the lowest in years—especially the unemployment of the black population. You think? Why wouldn’t it be? We’re living on borrowed money. We—almost all of us—are up to our necks in debt. Our credit cards are maxed out; our homes are mortgaged to the hilt; our people, on average don’t have enough savings in reserve to even meet minor emergencies; our national deficit and debt is the highest in history (some even say our nation is bankrupt); and our annual deficits and debt are increasing every year—almost to a point of “no return”. Again, our economy is a false economy. We are living on borrowed money.

Are you aware as to how many people are working two and three jobs just to survive? Do you really think this can continue? I tell you, this prosperous economy of which our leaders speak is an illusion—a “pie in the sky”. They are lying through their teeth. They are looking at their standard of living—how they live. They are the “Haves”. They have no ideas as to how the “Have Nots” live. So you keep on spending; have a ball; but remember what I am telling you. Just because we have been doing this, living beyond our means, and getting away with it for so many years doesn’t mean it can continue. We have been living a lie; and, even worse, the outsourcing of jobs through globalization notwithstanding, the rapid increase in technology and automation has left us with a workforce unqualified to do the many high paying jobs that are open to them and going unfilled every day. That’s a fact. These are facts. I’m telling you the truth.

In the subject of accounting, we are taught, “Debits on the left, Credits on the right. I submit this to you for your thinking: The Credits on the right of our nation’s balance sheet, i.e. Our National Debt, are offset by the Debits on the left, the Bank Accounts of our Corporatocracy and Power Elite, taken from “We the People” in their greed and avarice to which there appears to be no end. You may be assured that when the crash comes, they will have cash when we don’t.

The subject of basic economics, Econ 101 if you will, tells us that in bad times one borrows and, in good times, one pays back what he borrowed. Why, in these so-called “good, wonderful, and prosperous times” are we borrowing, i.e. the deficit, like there is no tomorrow? Do we not realize this money must be repaid? When President Obama entered office, January, 2009 he inherited an annual deficit of $1.3 Trillion, a national debt of $10 Trillion, and a crashed economy. When he left office, he had reduced the deficit to approximately $500 Billion and an improving economy. Now our deficit is headed north once again to a Trillion Dollars, our debt is $21 Trillion, and our glorious Speaker of the House is primed on the one hand to take away our Social Security and Healthcare and, on the other to increase our Defense budget when they don’t even have an auditable set of books. Go figure.

It’s past time when we should wake up and start thinking. Republicans vs. Democrats isn’t our real enemy. That’s a distraction to keep us battling one another. Our real enemy is the Corporatocracy and Power Elite who govern us through their lobbyists and other satchel carriers—our Shadow Government, if you will. We need to take back our government, to get private money out of politics, to elect competent moral people to office, reverse Citizens United, and be an informed and responsible people—our obligation as a responsible citizen in a democratic republic; and we should vote in every election. It’s our job—not the other guy’s. You know he, the other guy, isn’t going to do anything.

That’s my view. From: Steven P. Miller, @ParkermillerQ,gatekeeperwatchman.org , TM, ‎Founder and Administrator of Gatekeeper-Watchman International Groups. #GWIG, #GWIN, #GWINGO, #SPARKERMILLER Wednesday, December 18, 2024, Jacksonville, Florida USA 3:10:57 PM www.facebook.com/gatekeeperwatchnan www.facebook.com/ Instagram: steven_parker_miller_1956

[freewritingjournal]

Perfume

I always wondered why I didn't like perfume. As an adult, I'd buy bottles and never end up using any of it.

I remember the first perfume I bought. It was Burberry, a small bottle from Marshalls. I was 12 and got it with money I made doing things I shouldn't at that age.

I rarely used it because I liked it so much, and I knew I wouldn't be able to afford to get another when it ran out.

I remember struggling to put food on the table, and my mom having a manic spending spree at Bath and Body Works about a year later. She bought me tons of body sprays I didn't like, shower gels I hated, and lotions I wouldn't use because I felt so guilty about the money being spent, knowing it was frivolous because we couldn't afford to eat.

I remember going to throw the things she bought me away a couple of years later when I was moving to go to college. She was almost in tears, telling me that she got those for me when we had nothing. I didn't ask for them, and I didn't want them. I still had never used any of the products.

I felt such guilt for having money spent on me while she was drowning in credit card debt. I felt such guilt for wanting to get rid of things I didn't like and knew I'd never use, but I knew she got those things for me as an act of love in her head.

I hated them. I hated having to stare at them under the bathroom sink as some sad, pathetic reminder that we could barely afford to eat, but she could always find money in the budget for manic spending.

I threw them away behind her back at some point. I think one bottle of lotion remains.

I didn't deserve that guilt. I don't deserve the guilt that I still carry with me over the smallest things. I didn't deserve the knowledge of how bad things were financially, and I didn't deserve needing to do things I shouldn't have been doing to be able to afford small things that most teenage girls should have.

The money that was available was usually wasted on her boyfriends, an ever-changing shadow cast of various weak, broke men who needed financial support that would come straight from my mouth and into theirs, as they tried to play house, pretending to be pseudo father figures. They tried to discipline me, which is still laughable. I'm sure most of them had an idea of what was going on, but they were willing to do anything to make sure their needs were met over that of a teenage girl.

I was alone in my misery, grappling with knowing the reality of my situation, and doing everything I could to just survive another day without another attempt, another almost-overdose. I did what I had to do and I didn't tell people about myself or my life. I was quiet and invisible and I reveled in it. I could have fun for a minute and forget about the crushing weight of the past, present, and future.

I would do anything to disassociate, to detach, to live in dreamland so I could go out and do what I had to do to be able to survive. I dreamt of a future that didn't hurt. I wanted to make it out so badly.

I thought I could claw my way to the top and meet all of my needs (and more) without relying on anyone. I thought success would make all of the pain go away -- the scars would disappear because I succeeded. I could hold myself through the isolation after seeing the top because I'd know I had soldiered through so much adversity that other people didn't have to claw and fight through just to see the light of day. I could have my castle, my crowns, my endless supply of burberry perfumes -- and no one to share it with because dependency was too dangerous.

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #192

You see the person you fell hardest for. What do you do? Initially freeze and panic a bit, I'm sure, but ultimately I'd probably try to avoid him.

Have/are you depressed? Yes, I was diagnosed with it during puberty, and it's still very much a problem. I'm not currently on a medication that's working well against it either, so it's been darker times for months now.

Do you call anybody "baby?" My boyfriend rarely, sometimes my nieces or nephew, and my snake too.

Where is the fanciest place you have ever visited? Probably this Italian restaurant I went to once on Sara's birthday when I was visiting. That stuff was WAY too gourmet for my ordering-chicken-tenders-at-fancy-restaurants ass lmfao

Do you like to sing? Not really, I do it super rarely.

Are there some songs that you will never understand the lyrics to? Oh this is the realest shit with having auditory processing issues lol, I very rarely understand a single song's entire lyrics. I have to look them up all the time, even if the singer is pretty clear and concise with the pronunciations.

How many rings do you wear on a day-to-day basis? Just one.

Have you ever attempted to sculpt something from ice? No.

Have you ever had to wear an oxygen mask? Yes, I remember doing something like this as a kid because I was having trouble breathing. I've wondered since childhood if I have asthma (my mom and her mom do/did), but I've never had an actual attack so we don't know.

Have you ever starved yourself? I've tried to.

Do you like Robot Chicken? No, I thought it was the dumbest thing I've ever seen on television.

Has anyone ever had to physically restrain you from doing something? [TW: SUICIDE] She didn't know exactly what she was restraining me from, but yes, when Mom no less than dragged me home from trying to walk to Jason's the night of the breakup. When we got back into the house, I immediately tried to break for the kitchen, fully intending on slitting my throat, but she had good intuition and literally wrestled me to the floor. That's when I really, REALLY fell apart, and since then I've had a very bad fear of knives, just knowing what I'd planned on doing.

Do you like the pretzel M&Ms? Yeah.

Have you ever been embarrassed to have a crush on someone? Oh this was definitely true before like, high school. I never wanted to admit to my puppylove "crushes."

Do you have a locket? What's the picture inside of it? No.

Have you ever seen someone who wore a real eyepatch? No.

Did anyone witness your last kiss? No.

Anyone who's way over protective of you? No one excessively.

Have you ever been to a rave? No, that sounds like hell to me.

Do you know anyone who has changed their first name? Yeah, I've a number of trans friends.

Have you ever dated someone who posted a ton of selfies on social media? Why does this matter? But no.

Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? Idk, actually.

Do your parents have a strong relationship together? No, I think Mom would be happier if Dad was dead, and I'm being serious. Dad doesn't let her bother him anymore.

Are you on good or bad terms with your most recent ex? Bad.

Do you think there are more dimensions than what we’re able to perceive? I'd say it's possible.

What was the last carbonated drink you had? Strawberry-flavored water.

Does anyone in your family have schizophrenia? My half-sister that I don't know does.

Do any of your neighbors have loud children? No, just dogs.

Have you ever sleepwalked? No.

Do you have any credit card debt? I don't even have a credit card. Or debit card.

What was your favorite way to spend a summer day as a kid? Swimming.

Do you have any uncommon interests or hobbies? A few honestly, vulture culture probably being the most textbook "uncommon" one.

What’s something that would make you incredibly happy right now? Losing a hundred pounds, no I'm not exaggerating.

What did you do for your 18th birthday? I actually have no idea.

Have you ever been to the Caribbean? No.

Have you ever fostered an animal? No; I'm very doubtful of my ability to ever let an animal I was fostering go.

What's the most worthwhile thing you've done in the last year? Gotten closer than ever with my mom, I think. I adjusted my dinner habits to where I normally sit out a couple hours with her, watching TV together and talking, and it makes me so happy that she loves it (not an assumption, she's told me), and I feel I've also been a better housemate; as my legs have improved I help out with various things more.

What foods make you want to gag? A lot, lmao. I will not put slimy things (like egg yolk) in my mouth, and I also hate stringy meat, beans, fat on meat, and lots lots more if I felt like putting in the time and thinking more.

Have you ever made out with someone? Yeah, this sounds like some shit young teenaged girls whisper about at sleepovers lmfao

How old were you when you started to walk? Idk exactly, but I know Mom's said at like doctor appointments that I was a normal age.

What cheers you up when you're sad? Talking to Girt and/or Mom is the most reliable option; I hate talking about stuff that makes me sad, but I know very well by now that talking really does, ultimately, help me. I'm regrettably also an emotional eater, and having a soda or some sweet sadly gives me a boost that I tend to abuse. Watching funny stuff can certainly help, and cuddling with Girt will always help at least some.

What do you sleep in? Pajama pants and a tank top.

Have you ever tanned topless? No; I've never been a fan of tanning, like I'm just hot lol, but I have even less interest doing it topless.

What's something you've been told you're good at? I think writing is my main thing that people have applauded and encouraged me to do more with. Followed by drawing.

What's the furthest away you've ever traveled? Illinois.

Are you a cat or dog person? I enjoy both, but as pets I definitely manage cats better. They're more my speed and vibe.

Have you ever done drugs? I have not, I have an addictive personality and I am not fucking with that shit. The only thing I'm interested in trying is a weed edible, but in a safe environment and not alone.

Recommend a really amazing book. I recently (FINALLY) read The Testaments by Margaret Atwood and it was great, I really enjoy her writing.

Recommend a really amazing song. "Stein um Stein" by Rammstein can depress me for a week if I let it lmao

Recommend a really amazing movie. Uh... Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron? I feel like it's a pretty underrated DreamWorks movie.

Who's your favorite actor/actress? Well, Mark is totally an actor now, so... lol

Have you ever run away from home? Yes, for like, 30 minutes lol. I was an angsty pre-teen.

Do you exercise ever? I use an exercise bike, and rarely my old physical therapy exercises. I need to get more dedicated to the bike, though... but at least I'm moving some. That couldn't be said last year.

Are you claustrophobic? This is very situational. I can tell you with certainty that I can't handle crowds, so claustrophobic because of humans? Absolutely. Some tight spaces? I can't stand them, and then other times, I want to be in that corner to feel safer. It's so situational.

Do you enjoy cooking? I don't. By pure coincidence I'm helping Mom bake bread rolls tomorrow (it's my Thanksgiving favorite), and I really hope something awakens in me, lol.

Do you wish you could go back and change anything about your childhood? I mean, yeah. I wish my parents had actually been good for one another and didn't fight, and I wish my dad hadn't been an alcoholic that scared me.

Who’s your favorite rapper? I have no idea who really exists in rap lol, but historically I've sometimes enjoyed Eminem, definitely more than any other name I know of.

What would your mom do if you told her you were pregnant? Oh WOW I'm really not sure. She would know it wasn't good news for me and my life, and she'd know an abortion was coming. Mom's pro-choice, but I know the concept of an abortion happening to me would be heartshattering for her. I don't really know how she would handle this situation, and I hope we never have to find out.

Have you ever considered changing religions? I've done this a couple times, doubt it'll ever happen again though.

Have you ever been caught sneaking out? I've never tried to.

What did you have for dinner tonight? Mac and cheese.

Have you ever cried in front of your parents over a boyfriend or girlfriend? OHOHOHOHOH BOY HAVE I, idk how my mom stayed sane with how many times I cried to her over Jason.

When was the last time you hung out with your best friend? Yesterday actually; he spent the night the night before.

What is a movie you're waiting to see? I want to see the Barbie movie so damn bad, but apparently renting it is extremely expensive so I haven't.

Who was the last person to cook something for you? My mom.

Do you talk to any of your ex-boyfriends/girlfriends? No.

If so, which one? N/A

What is your mom doing right now? I think I hear her doing something in the kitchen, preparing for tomorrow.

Are you currently listening to music? No, I'm catching up on Dark Den videos.

Do you agree that abortion is wrong? I sure don't.

Who was the last person to comment you on Facebook? My mom.

When was the last time you had a period? Almost a month ago, it'll be coming up in like a week.

[silvanoir]

The 2 of him

I'd like to say I have nothing better to do than figure Work Friend out, but I DO have better things to do, but I don't want to do them... my brain and body are exhausted from my own life, I'd rather ponder someone else's. And I don't think he minds because he says no one can figure him out and I've been right about some things (wrong on others)... and he likes to try to figure out what makes people tick too so I don't think he's offended.

So my latest pondering (which I'll tell him about tomorrow, see if I'm off-base or not) :

I've been trying to reconcile his 2 personalities all year. There's the outgoing jokey guy who likes to pull silly pranks, and then there's the guy with wayyyyyy too much trauma who has social anxiety so bad he'll hide and crumple up like a discarded folding chair, his hands will shake, literally try to disappear into the dark. They don't seem to gel into one person.

Except maybe they do.

He keeps saying (to everyone, not just me) "You gotta laugh so you don't cry".

And I'm wondering if it IS the anxiety. Like a very sideways version of L'appel du Vide (The Call Of The Void). Where instead of being afraid of heights leads the anxious person to think about jumping from heights as a means of taking control of the fear.... he's got social anxiety. So fear of crowds of people, being trapped with people in buildings for extended periods of time, fear of strangers getting too close/knowing too much, fear of asking anyone in authority for anything he wants/needs.... so instead of jumping to control that fear... it's making a joke of himself and his problems, saying too much, being overly friendly with people he doesn't even like... and when it's a place he knows he has to go repeatedly he'll screw it up on purpose, call attention to himself via the pranks, which annoys people to the point of kicking him out.

Like, example.... the bank story. Many years ago, he had to take the mortgage (of a house he no longer owns) to the bank, big amount of money to deposit. Kept telling himself it was important. Over and over. He also had a chipmunk in a trap in the back of the truck that he took from a client who wanted him to dispose of it for them (he did and still does light construction work) so he gets to the deposit.... and instead of putting the money in... puts the chipmunk in. And then drove away and went home and decided to switch banks.

And now, current day, he's in debt (identify theft, some people had a lot of fun with his credits cards and he couldn't fully prove it in court so now he has to pay it off), so that limits where he can shop.... and got himself banned from his local Dollar Tree for acting stupid.

As a fellow anxiety-haver, I've had thoughts of doing stupid things but don't act on them. Including a more direct version of The Call Of The Void whenever I drive over a tall bridge. Makes me nervous that I'll drive off and plummet to my death. And so that voice in the back of my head tells me to swerve and hit the gas and just do it already, full throttle, take away the fear by making it happen! Get it over with! I tell that voice to SHUT UP and continue, rigidly straight within the lines until I'm over the bridge in a normal way.

I won't be telling him that one, though, because he might not ever want to get into a car with me again. His dumbass things only ever cause harm to himself and minor property damage, which is maybe why he finds his harder to ignore, because the consequence isn't death or serious bodily harm. We just gotta find a way to get him to tell his voice to SHUT UP and not act on it.

[createacc48c]

Get vcc

The world has digitalized beyond our imagination. The progress of the tech industry has surprised us to bits. The internet is like the eighth wonder of the world. Pretty much everything can be found on the internet now. You can get whatever you want to be delivered to your doorstep with just a few clicks. Human life has become easier with this blessing of digitalization.

However, every coin has two sides. The Internet has benefitted us a lot but also compromised our privacy. If you buy something online, you need to pay through your debit or credit card mostly. It means the information on that card is shared with the merchant. Your identity, your address, your social and financial details and all. This information can be backfired if it gets into the wrong hand. So, you need to be careful about that but how?

As we know in this digital era, every problem has its own solution. In this matter, the solution is using a prepaid visa card. It is more like one of those superhero’s stealth modes. You get your job done but no one gets to know who did the job. You can buy anything online, and make any payments without sharing your personal and financial details. Also, it works without any bank account being linked and is accepted pretty much everywhere around the world. If you still don’t have it, you better check it out now. We have it served at the table right in front of you. Give the whole article a read to find out more details.

A Little Overview On Prepaid Visa Card

Before we share our selling proposition, let’s help you understand what we are actually selling. You see, a prepaid Visa card is preloaded with a certain amount of money. Now, you might be thinking it’s like a traditional debit card. Well, you are pretty much right as a debit card deducts money from the bank account linked to it. You can spend as long as you have money in your bank account, right? The same thing goes for a prepaid Visa card, except it doesn’t require any bank account.

You can’t call it a credit card either because you’re not taking any loan. With a credit card, you pay after spending the money. Some people lose track of spending and end up in debt. Unlike a credit card, a prepaid Visa card allows you to spend only the amount you loaded. Overall, it’s more like a debit card but without any bank account linked, though it is also issued by financial institutions.

You don’t need to go through the complexities of getting a traditional Visa card. Anyone can buy a prepaid Visa card, and that is the beauty of it. It doesn’t require that many application processes, and you don’t even need to share any of your information. Go anonymous! Just load the card and start using it. You can use it anywhere traditional Visa cards are accepted.

In short, a prepaid Visa card helps you secure your personal and financial information and keep track of your spending as it won’t exceed the amount you loaded on it. If you still haven’t availed of this amazing Visa card for yourself, it’s time you did so. We offer the best-prepaid Visa card at a great deal for you. Check it out below.

You will find several prepaid Visa card sellers online. If you’re wondering why you should buy VCC and buy Amazon AWS Account from us, we won’t blame you. We are availing all the prepaid Visa card features for you. Our card features alone are enough to convince you to buy it. However, we not only want to convince our clients but also impress them. That’s why we’ve worked on providing the best customer service. Here are the details of our service.

Why Do You Need To Buy Prepaid Visa Card?

This question might have come up in your mind at some point. That’s why we thought: why don’t we clean this up? Let’s get started.

How do you actually apply for a traditional Visa card? Usually, you go to a bank, open an account, and submit an application for a Visa card. Then, the bank goes through a process of verification and provides you with the card. Simple, right? Well, not as simple as it seems. The process involves many steps that might be difficult for you. The bank runs a credit check on the applicant and collects financial details and all.

However, obtaining a prepaid Visa card from a financial institution is a little bit simpler. All you need is an account with funds in it. Then, ask for a prepaid Visa card of a specific amount that should not be more than the amount you have in the account. Since you’re not borrowing any money from the bank, the process is faster.

[skybound2]

More WTFery with the US health insurance system.

So last year I skipped my annual MRIs. Both because I was too busy and didn't feel like wasting my time in that damn tube but ALSO because my deductible was $1000 and I didn't really have the money just laying around. AND since I'd been doing well all year, it didn't seem like a big deal to just skip them.

Now flash forward to THIS year, and I go to my Neurology check up and my doctor DOESN'T yell at me for skipping my MRIs (because I AM doing well!) but he DOES say that he wants me to get them done in the next few months and then come see him again in May just to be sure.

So I of course say FINE and I get on the phone with the imaging center I used last time, KNOWING that my deductible is now $1500 but HOPING it'll some how be LESS than that, when they tell me it'll actually be $1546! Because the cost is MORE than just my deductible so I have to pay some extra for coinsurance because the US health insurance system is total shit.

I explain that I can't afford that right now and ask if they have a payment plan. The person on the phone (who seemed honestly SURPRISED when they quoted the price to me) is understanding and says they will have the finance people call me back. Which they DO.

At which point they tell me that I can pay 50% up front and 50% later. I say thanks but no thanks, I'm going to shop around first to see if I can get better pricing at another imaging center (because Capitalism). They agree that I should do that because the price is ridiculous AND THEN they tell me that if I can't find better pricing elsewhere using my insurance, that if I go through them WITHOUT using my insurance that the total cost will be $1100.

Like, WHAT?!? WHY IS THE COST MORE IF I USE INSURANCE THEN IF I DON'T?!? HOW DOES THAT MAKE SENSE!?!? WHY AM I PAYING YOU HUNDRED IS DOLLARS A MONTH FOR YOU TO OVERCHARGE ME FOR MEDICAL SERVICES MY DOCTOR SAYS I HAVE TO HAVE!?!

*CUE SCREAMS OF RAGE*

I mean I guess I shouldn't be at all surprised. This is the same damn insurance plan who thinks it's REASONABLE to try and have me pay $1000 A MONTH for my medication. Something I only manage to avoid doing because THE DAMN MEDICINE MANUFACTURER waives the cost for me!! Like this is medicine that I NEED to take to slow the progression of my illness and my insurance thinks that $1000/month is reasonable for me to pay for it.

This freaking country. I swear. We're going to be paying back our student loans until we DIE and any spare cash we save up is spent on medical shit.

[trekscribbles]

Triple Threat: A Stone Triplets Fic (Chapter 2)

Fandoms: Leverage/Leverage Redemption, Librarians, and Almost Paradise

Cross-Posted: Ao3 and FF

Summary: Eliot and Jake are both in the Philippines for separate jobs that turn out to be related. Kai takes the existence of Alex's brothers as a personal attack on her mental health. Ernesto happily goes along for the ride.

Read Chapter 1 here.

Chapter 2: Double Trouble

The last time Eliot saw Alex was when they were 16 years old. Alex had been living with Uncle Danny for 6 years at that point, so the brothers didn't have much of a relationship even then, and the reunion had been awkward and tense. Jake was the one who tried to keep them together, who talked their father into hosting Christmas that year. He was the one who'd called Alex and begged him to come home for a week. Just a week.

They'd lasted three days.

At the time Eliot had blamed Alex—immature, bull-headed Alex, whose verbal and then physical fights with their father had led to his living with Uncle Danny in the first place. If he could have just learned to keep his mouth shut, most of the fights wouldn't have happened. Eliot and Jake had learned that lesson—why couldn't Alex? He always had to have the last word, no matter what the cost.

That last visit was what finally convinced Eliot to leave home. He thought about college, but eventually decided to enlist as soon as he turned 18 (without telling their father). Jake was supposed to go with him, but he'd wanted to see Alex one more time before they left. When months went by and Alex didn't come back, Eliot left both his brothers behind.

Age had given Eliot perspective, but by the time he was ready to apologize, Jake wouldn't take his calls. Alex had already joined the DEA, and a series of undercover assignments for both of them made it impossible for Eliot to reach out. And then he got involved with Moreau, and getting in touch was no longer an option. It would have put them in too much danger, and that was one thing Eliot would never do. But after a while, even that became an excuse. After he escaped Moreau, after Nate created a team and a family for him, he let the silence continue. He'd made that choice on his own.

And now apparently Alex was in the Philippines. Permanently, according to the detective who introduced herself as Kai Mendoza. That was all she would tell him (through gritted teeth, as though Eliot had committed some unforgivable sin by asking). "We have to take care of this mess," she'd grumbled. "Then we'll take you to see Alex."

She hadn't asked if Eliot wanted to see Alex, and part of him was glad for that. If he'd been given the option, he wasn't sure he'd have said yes. It would have been easy to say that he was too busy, that he couldn't stay, that it was better for them not to meet. But now that the offer was there, Eliot couldn't turn it down. One way or another, he was going to see his brother today.

Kai and her partner Ernesto drove him and the two men they'd arrested to the police station, where Eliot was firmly told to stay in the car. Kai paused after giving the order as if waiting for him to argue, even after he nodded and promised to stay put. Apparently Alex hadn't changed much since they were kids.

While the others were inside, Eliot took a few minutes to call Hardison and update him on the job. It was just the two of them on this one, with Hardison pulling the strings from somewhere in Vietnam while Eliot worked on the ground in Cebu.

Hardison picked up on the first ring. "All done? I booked you a flight back to New Orleans on—"

"I ran into a little snag," Eliot interrupted.

"What kind of snag?"

Eliot explained most of his encounter with Kai and Ernesto, but he couldn't bring himself to include the fact that he'd been mistaken for one of his long-lost triplet brothers. Hardison knew he had siblings, but Eliot hadn't ever gone into details about them. He wasn't sure what he'd say now, and he knew Hardison would have questions. Best to leave it be. He'd give Hardison a more in-depth explanation later.

"So now what?" Hardison asked.

"Now we wait and see if they can salvage the sting. If they arrest Flores, our work is done."

"And if they don't?"

"I'll let you know."

There was a pause, as if Hardison was trying to decide whether or not to voice his next thought. "Is there something else?"

Eliot sighed. He tried not to lie to Hardison or Parker, but he didn't want to have this conversation now. "Not about the job," he answered. "I'll explain later."

To his credit, Hardison didn't argue, even though he had to be burning with curiosity. "Okay. Call back when you have more to share."

"Yeah."

It was another twenty minutes before Kai and Ernesto emerged from the police station, both wearing grim expressions. They were talking as they approached the car, and Eliot caught the tail end of their conversation through the open windows.

"I didn't want to bring him in on this," Kai was saying.

Ernesto shrugged. "We don't really have a choice anymore."

"Things get messy when his family is involved. It'll only complicate things."

Interesting. Which of his relatives had already come to the island? Evidently Eliot's family had a knack for disrupting the locals.

"Ocampo's orders," Ernesto said. He opened the passenger door and slid into the car, turning to look over his shoulder at Eliot. "We'll take you to see Alex, but you're going to have to come back to the station and explain what you were doing with Flores."

Eliot crossed his arms. "Figured you'd want to know that first."

"We do," Kai said, with a frown at her partner. "You owe the delay to Alex. He's helped us out in the past, and Ernesto thinks we should tell him you're here before he finds out from someone else."

"The surprise could kill him," Ernesto said mildly.

"You just want to see his face when we show up with his doppelganger."

"Don't you?" Ernesto asked. Kai huffed and dropped into the driver's seat.

They lapsed into silence during the drive, which Eliot appreciated. His stomach had begun an uneasy churn, though he told himself it was just because of the heat. There was nothing to be nervous about. Sure Eliot hadn't reached out, but neither had Alex. Neither had Jake, for that matter. Eliot had gone home once, just after he got out of the service, and found Jake had taken over the oil company. Their neighbors said that Jake was turning things around, digging out of debt and even managing a profit, and Eliot accepted the blessing and drove out of town without stopping by the house. It was enough that Jake was happy. He didn't need Eliot coming back and ruining things for him.

Kai pulled into the parking lot of another hotel, dodging groups of brightly dressed tourists as she went. "He owns the gift shop here at the resort," Ernesto explained, flashing a friendly smile over his shoulder. Kai didn't look at him as she got out of the car, but Eliot was happy to keep his silence. He trailed behind her as she led the way through the resort, winding around pools and umbrella-covered tables, slowing every few moments so Ernesto could greet someone. Apparently the friendliness wasn't an act—or else it was a very good one. But something about the man felt genuine, as if he couldn't be bothered to put up a front.

Kai, on the other hand... she was harder to read. Especially now that she wasn't giving Eliot anything to work with except the occasional glare.

Before long the bustle of the resort faded as concrete transitioned to sand beneath their feet. A small building rose ahead of them, still against the backdrop of gentle waves and lazy clouds. A soft breeze ruffled Eliot's hair, filling his lungs with salt and sunshine. He wanted to stop, to look out at the water and breathe in the sea spray and the silence, but the others kept walking.

No wonder Alex had picked this spot. If retirement was in Eliot's future, he could see himself in a place like this.

Ernesto reached the door, and Eliot took one last windswept breath to brace himself.

"You look nervous," Kai murmured.

No he didn't. He knew he didn't, because the only emotions he gave away were the ones he wanted people to see. And he was most definitely not nervous. But her eyes lingered on his, and something softened in her expression.

"Don't worry," she said, giving him a small, hesitant smile. "It'll be fine."

"Alex," Ernesto called, and Eliot's stomach gave another roll. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. He tried to back away, but Kai put her hand on his arm and cut off his retreat, guiding him inside.

The gift shop was empty besides one man restocking a rack of post cards. He stood with his back to them, but it was impossible to mistake him for anyone else. He had the same build as Eliot, the same brown hair he'd have to fight to keep straight in this humidity, the same scarred hands from years of work and fighting.

"Hey!" Alex said without turning around. "Check it out, I got new cards."

Ernesto started across the room, gesturing for Eliot to follow. "How come you didn't tell us you had a twin?"

Alex looked at him. "A twin? I don't have a tw—"

His eyes fell on Eliot, and his words died. Eliot could feel Kai watching them, waiting for a reaction, but he couldn't think of anything to say. Hey, how've you been the last 30 years? Oh, me? Well, first I was an international assassin, and now I work with a group of thieves who steal from the rich and give to the poor. I still punch people for a living though. How about you?

Something started beeping. Eliot started—no, not started, just looked around for the source—but Alex slapped his hand to his wrist and the sound stopped.

"Everything okay?" Ernesto asked. Alex made a noncommittal sound, glancing at him before returning his attention to Eliot. His eyes seemed bluer than Eliot remembered. It was probably just the lighting, but since it was the only thought that didn't spiral out of control, it was the one Eliot clung to. Blue eyes like their mother's, like the pond water in the back yard. Blue eyes that had been red with anger and hurt the last time he'd seen them.

"Which one are you?" Alex asked.

Behind him, Kai made a choking sound. Ernesto shushed her.

"But—" she sputtered. "Are there more of them?"

Eliot refocused on his brother. "You don't recognize me?"

"You both look the same," Alex deadpanned.

"Well, we're in the Philippines and I'm speaking English."

For a long moment Alex simply stared at him as if trying to read the details of their separation in his face. Then he reached out, and Eliot braced himself for the punch. He wouldn't fight back—not at first, not unless things got out of hand. He could take a hit or two, let Alex burn off some of his anger, and then try talking. They weren't 16 anymore. They could handle this like adults.

But Alex didn't hit him. His arms flashed out past Eliot's head, wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him tight. "Eliot," he murmured, crushing him in a hug that drove the breath from Eliot's lungs. He didn't care. He grabbed two fistfuls of Alex's shirt and squeezed, pressing everything he couldn't voice into the embrace.

"It's good to see you," Alex said at last, gruffly. He pulled away without taking his hands from Eliot's shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh... work."

Alex frowned at the hesitation. "What kind of work?"

Eliot sent a look over his shoulder, where Kai and Ernesto still waited. They clearly had some kind of relationship with Alex, but how far did that extend? Likely not far enough to keep from arresting Eliot for the half-dozen laws he'd broken to secure his meeting with Flores. "I'll tell you later."

"Now's as good a time as any," Kai said. "You can tell us now or at the station, whichever you prefer."

"We can give them a little longer," Ernesto argued.

"Flores is still out there. The longer we wait, the more time he has to act."

"Who's Flores?" Alex asked. He let his hands slide from Eliot's shoulders, a frown settling over his face.

Kai gave him a pointed look. "I'll tell you later."

"I think you should tell me now."

"I don't care what—"

Ernesto held his hands up, putting himself between the two of them. "Kai, we can give them a few more minutes to catch up. We'll be outside, Alex. Ten minutes." He looked at Eliot. "Then you come to the station with us. Understand?"

"Fine," Alex said. "Ten minutes. I got it."

Though Kai looked like she wanted to argue, she allowed Ernesto to guide her toward the door. "Nice friends you've got," Eliot muttered.

He'd meant it as a joke, but Alex gave a serious nod. "Yeah. They are. They're closer than some of my family."

Apparently they were going to fight after all. "I didn't know how to contact you," Eliot said.

"You're smart. You couldn't figure something out?"

"Couldn't you?" Eliot countered. "The last I heard you were undercover. Reaching out would have put you in danger."

"I'm retired now," Alex said.

"So I hear."

Alex crossed his arms over his chest. "I did try to find you. There was a rumor going around that you'd died."

"I didn't. Well, I did once, but it didn't stick."

"How long ago was that?"

"While you were still undercover."

Alex gave a frustrated growl. "Fine. We both could have done more, alright? Just... fill me in on the case."

The case was a safe topic, so Eliot embraced the change without complaint. He gave his brother the basics as he knew them: Robert Flores was looking to set up a base to smuggle drugs to the United States. Hardison had been tracking him throughout Asia, but when business kept him in Vietnam he'd contacted Eliot about finishing the job. "Should have been simple enough," Eliot said. "Set up a meeting, figure out his weakness, take him down."

"But you weren't the only one after him," Alex said. He heaved a sigh. "How mad was Kai when you showed up?"

An involuntary smile pulled at Eliot's lips. "She thought I was you. I think she wanted to kill me more than Flores's men did."

Alex chuckled, sobering a moment later. "So this is what you do? You go after international criminals?"

"More or less."

"With who? I mean—CIA? Interpol?"

"It's kind of a freelance operation."

Alex shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense."

"It's a lot to explain," Eliot said. "And I will, I promise. Soon as we have the time."

"Right." Alex gave him another long look, and a small grin appeared on his face. "It's good to see you, man. It's been too long."

Eliot didn't try to stop his answering grin. "You go by Walker now?"

"You'd already taken Mom's name. Didn't leave me with much of a choice."

"Yeah, but... Walker? As in Texas Ranger?"

Alex hissed and shot a look toward the door. "Don't say it out loud, man. I've got a reputation to keep up here."

Eliot laughed, but Ernesto chose that moment to knock and peek into the gift shop, effectively ending the conversation. "You two finished?" he called.

"For now," Alex answered. "Where's Kai?"

"She went to get some coffee. She'll be back any minute."

Alex nodded. "Good. I wanna be back before the afternoon rush."

"You're not coming," Ernesto said. "I don't think Kai can handle two of you."

Eliot folded his arms. "For the record, I'm not Alex's double. If anything he's my double. I'm older."

"By eight minutes," Alex snapped.

"That's older."

Alex huffed a wordless reply, and Eliot felt a glow of something familiar in his chest. This was an argument they'd had hundreds of times—Eliot, being the oldest, started it most often when they were kids. Jake had come next, and then Alex—Baby Alex, they called him, whenever he was being annoying. Eliot was pleased to find the joke still funny.

Even better, Alex seemed to still find it annoying. Eliot couldn't say why that felt so comforting. Maybe it was just that he was thankful to see a glimpse of the old Alex, the one he'd known before they let their father and their pride get in the way of their relationship. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was relaxed enough to have this conversation in front of Ernesto. Maybe Alex had found a team the way Eliot had.

Maybe it was a good thing he'd come here after all.

[ramp-it-up]

Fresh Squeeze Ch. 8

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x OFC Linden Marshall (You)

Set in 2023, post-pandemic

Warnings: Cursing, AAANGST yet SMUT. Mention of Death, Anthony Ramos, Coached masturbation, heavy petting, sunscreen. Fluff. Plot. Mature themes and situations.18+.

Word Count: 4.6 K

Plot: Linden is trying to run from her feelings for Daveed after a lot of trauma and a shitty ex. Daveed assumes and hits a nerve and Linden just wants to hit that. It’s her birthday weekend y’all!

Read the Previous Chapter

-----

“Let this be a thing…”

You smiled at the possibilities of the situation.

“Let’s let this flow.  It’s my birthday weekend.  I want to have fun.”  You turned around and faced Daveed. “With you.” 

You reached up and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. They were so succulent, but you didn’t allow yourself to get sucked in, literally or figuratively.  You had to get some control back.

You looked up at him and he was hopeless. He struggled to continue to hold himself back. 

Daveed thought about how tight you were around his fingers. He would have you screaming in this fitting room again, this time with you impaled on his dick.

“That’s all that matters right now. I like this vibe.”

D nodded at you.  “You’re right.”  Daveed cleared his throat as you two gazed at each other.  “I guess we gotta find a way to get out of here.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.  The walk of shame.”  

You straightened your clothes and gathered the garments you were going to try on escaping the fitting room with only a passing smirk from the attendant. 

You giggled at his lowkey “Get it,” and Daveed rolled his eyes as you passed by.

You decided to get all of the clothes you’d wanted to try on, but got distracted from trying on because of your shenanigans.  You piled everything on the register.

Daveed was so unsure. About what just happened; about what could happen. He didn’t want to fumble this beautiful bag. 

Before you could speak, he stepped up to the register. 

“We’ll take them all.”

You gave Daveed a side eye. You smiled at the woman at the counter.

“Yes, I will.”  

You opened your purse to get your credit card out, trying to remain calm and collected. 

“Linden, let me.”  

Daveed really thought he was about to pay for all of your clothes up in here. This was not it. He was assuming too much.

“No, Daveed. I got it.  Thank you though.” 

There was no mistaking the acidity under your sweet tone. You didn’t know what Daveed thought this was….

“But, this is a lot. And it’s your birthday.”

Your smile widened even though your rage grew, “All the more reason it should be my prerogative.”

“Lindy…”

“Daveed.”

You stared at each other down for a hot minute and then finally Daveed just closed his mouth and watched as you pulled a black amex card out of your wallet and signed for the total, which was over $2200. 

You didn’t blink an eye.

The fun you shared in the fitting room was long gone.  Things had gotten real tense real fast.

“Can I at least help you carry them?”

You ignored Daveed as you struggled with the bags, then put them down on the corner of the street outside the store.

You got your phone out to order a ride.

“What the fuck was that Daveed?”

He took you in, your little angry body turning him on.

“I was trying to be nice.”  Daveed couldn’t hide his irritation with you.  Was this even worth it?

“Why do you think that paying for my stuff would be ‘nice?’”  

Daveed was confused. 

“Well, I know you’re not with Mark anymore and you were in school and everything and Columbia is expensive. I just didn’t want you to have to go into more debt on your birthday weekend.” 

“Why would I be going into debt?”  Your eyes were full of murder.  “Shit Daveed, you just don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

You looked up at him as if you were going to fight him. Daveed wondered how many times he needed to make you cum before you would calm down. He was going to find out.

“Obviously I don’t, because I don’t know why the fuck you’re mad at me because I wanted to do something nice...I-”

A car pulled up beside you.

“That’s just the fuck WHY Daveed.  You don’t know anything about me.”

And then you grabbed your bags, flung them in the back of the car and got in, leaving Daveed on the corner of a street in Isabella, Puerto Rico, wondering what the fuck had just happened.

------

You were actually vibrating with rage all the way back to the beach house. You texted Jas for the combination to the front door and let her know where you were.  

She made a remark about giving you and Daveed time alone and you didn’t correct her, you just  needed some space.

You got your bags into your room and then went back out to the kitchen for a bottle of water.  

Daveed came in as you sat and drank, looking out of the great room windows.

You sat up straight on the stool and tried to ignore him.

Daveed had ordered a car as soon as yours drove away, vowing to find out what that scene was all about.  

He had not had to chase anyone in a long time and he felt like he was way too old for it.  But he couldn’t help himself.

Now, he was standing here approaching you like a wild animal.

“Do you want to tell me what just happened?”

You just tried to will this intrusion into your life and your emotions away.  Maybe if you ignored him he would disappear. 

You just could not take anymore pain and Daveed was dangerous. 

He could hurt you. Bad.

“Linden.” 

Daveed came around beside you and watched your profile as you closed your eyes and tried to shut him out.

“Please.”

Damn.  You swallowed and opened your mouth to speak.  You almost couldn’t say the words. You continued to look at the ocean.

“Dell takes care of me.” 

Daveed looked at you carefully. You continued to stare straight ahead. 

“The accident. The driver of the truck that hit us was drunk AND high. The company knew of his history and didn’t take him from behind the wheel.”

You took a deep breath and continued.

“We had good lawyers. I not only list my twin, but my left ovary and the ability to have children without a very involved medical procedure.”

Daveed really didn’t want to hear anymore. He felt terrible.

“There was a 30 million dollar settlement, 5 million to my mom with 25 million in trust until I turned 25 years old.” 

You didn’t know why you were telling him all this.

“So when I say I got it, Daveed. I got it.” 

You looked at him, something in your eyes that spoke of strength and brokenness.

Daveed wanted to throw himself off a cliff as he watched the tears roll down your cheek. Got damnit he was such an idiot.

“I’m sorry, Linden….”

“Don't be sorry Daveed. I just can’t do this. I can’t let you hurt me like Mark, like every other person who thinks they know me.  I can not…..”  

You just shook your head and walked toward your room.  Daveed’s long legs got ahead of you and he just stood in your way as you walked.

“Linden. I’m not going to let you run away.” 

You two played a slow game of human foosball.  After a minute, you just stopped.

“Move Daveed.  Let me go.”

He put his arms up, but he didn’t move.  

“I’m not holding you.  But I’m here Lindy, and I’m not going to leave you alone.  I’m sorry that I made such a boneheaded assumption, and I’m sorry I made you bring up something so painful.  But I’m not like everyone else.  I think I…”

All of a sudden, you wanted him to stop talking. You grabbed him around his waist and gave him a hug, sobbing into his chest.  

Daveed brought his arms down around you and held you while you cried, just as he did that first night. He still felt good.

This time, however, was different. Daveed bent down and picked you up, taking you into your bedroom bridal style.

He kicked the bags out of the way and lay down with you on the bed.

“Daveed, I…”

“I just want to hold you Lindy.  Relax.”

You stopped protesting and went with the flow. You let him hold you and did as he instructed, you relaxed, your head on his chest, listening to the slow, steady beat of his heart under one ear and the ocean out of your other. 

You felt the soothing thrill of him playing on your scalp and with your curls with his left hand as his right caressed your left leg, which was thrown across his thighs.

Before he knew it, you were softly snoring in his arms, and Daveed knew that his fate was sealed. The road to your heart was full of landmines, but he had to try to get there.  

------

You woke up to the sounds of giggling.  

Jasmine and Craig were standing over you and Daveed on the bed.  You were a little confused, but you and D woke up to an audience.

“Whyyyyy are you still fully clothed?” 

You grimaced at Craig and threw a pillow at them as Daveed sat up and grinned.

“Get the fuck outta my room Craig.” He dodged it successfully.

“We ain’t got time for you to waste all weekend NOT fucking around.  Chop chop.” Craig walked out of your room as you stuck your tongue out as his back. 

Jasmine laughed at you and followed him. 

“We’re going to have dinner out by the pool if you wanna join. Swimsuits required. The chef will be here in a few and Craig and I want to get some sun before the show tonight.” She looked at you over your shoulder as she left. 

“Or if you two want to stay in, that would probably be dope too…”

You shook your head at her back as she closed the door.

------

You sat up on the edge of the bed, feeling a bit awkward.  You put your head in your hands and let your curls hide your face. What the fuck were you on? It was like you had experienced the rollercoaster of a relationship, all in 18 hours.

Daveed sat up against the headboard, eyeing you warily.

“I want you Linden. I’m sorry for assuming earlier, but you gotta let me in so I know how not to.  I need you to be absolutely clear about what you want.”  

“I… I want you too, Daveed. I’m just really scared about being hurt again.”  

He closed his eyes when he heard your admission. Slowly but surely.

You raised your head and looked over at him.  You’d exhausted him already.

“I don’t want to hurt you Lindy.  But we’re both human. And too grown for the games.”

“I don’t want to play any games with you Daveed.  I mean… well….”

He opened his eyes and stared at you. He heard the invitation in your tone. This was a dangerous situation. He looked at his watch.  It was about 4 pm.  

The show started at 10 and although he wanted to start something and finish with you all afternoon and night… it might have to wait.  He leaned his head back and fantasized.

“What are you thinking about?”

Daveed opened one eye. He was attractive as fuck. He opened the other one and then closed them again.

“You don’t wanna know.”

You were intrigued.  You turned toward him and put your leg up on the bed, half indian style.

“Yes I do!  I must know all the things.” Your voice raised at the end of the sentence, making D smile.

Daveed wished he had the time to tame your control freak ways.

“You really don’t.”

“YES I DO.”

Daveed opened his eyes at your tone and you immediately calmed it down a bit, while your heart beat faster.

“You tryna stay in this room or you want to go out on the deck with everyone else?”

You looked down at the bed and bit your lip. You saw his huge hand on the bed, the veins prominent and the fingers impossibly long.  You looked back up at him and swallowed.

“W-we should probably join Craig an ‘nem….”

That stutter.  Oh, the control Daveed was utilizing at the moment.

“Then you definitely don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

Fuck. Now you definitely did want to know.

You pulled your other leg on the bed and then sat on your knees.  

“Pleeaseeee Daveeed.”

You. Begging.  This was heaven or hell, Daveed couldn’t figure out which. But he didn’t move from his position, just clasped his hands in his lap.  Because reasons.

“Actually, you on your knees made up a lot of my thoughts.”

You smiled a little.”So, you want me to suck your dick?”  You’d decided to try it.  

Daveed grunted and then looked to your face.

“That sounds nice.  Those pretty lips wrapped around my dick.  I wonder if you could take it all? Gag reflex?”

Instant waterfall. You moaned a little, and were so mesmerized you couldn't answer. Daveed sped on.

“But don’t be so unimaginative.  You on your knees can involve lots of things.”

Daveed moved, not too fast, and came around the bed behind you.  You shivered as he put his hand on your neck and then trailed it down your spine.

“Up. Let me see that arch.”

You obeyed of course, on your hands and knees on the bed, the arch in your back perfect for fucking. Daveed was looking at your ass and you hoped he couldn’t see your wetness beginning to trickle down your thigh.

“You could be on your knees with me behind you, eating you out from behind.” 

Daveed kneeled behind you, face to face with your barely cloth covered crotch. You moaned as you felt him get nearer to your core. Daveed stopped.

“You good?”  You nodded frantically, and Daveed continued closer.

“We’re gonna need a safeword.”

“Holy fuck!”

“Nah, that wouldn’t be a good one, because I have a feeling you might be saying that a lot.”

Daveed placed three kisses at your core, one on either inner thigh, and one on the strip of his jeans covering your clit. You started clenching as he pulled himself away, licking his lips. He’d captured some of your moisture on his mouth. You tasted better than he imagined.

“Or you could be on your knees riding my face, letting me drink from your pretty little fountain.”

Daveed sat on the floor and placed his head between your legs on the bed, looking up at your pussy in his jeans.  He just looked, not daring to touch you or himself. You reached down and caressed his curls.

“Daveed, please..”  

“No, no. You wanted to know what I was thinking.”  He slid out from under you like a mechanic.

He stood up behind you, put his hand on your ass and smoothed all the way down to the back of your neck, pushing your head down to the bed.

“How about me behind you on your knees, face in the bed with you keeping that ass up, while I pound that shit from behind? I wanna see that ass shake as I give you these back shots.”

And Daveed started the motion, pushing his hard, jeans covered dick into your ass, rubbing at first and giving you some friction, but driving you insane. 

You turned your head to the side to moan as Daveed pulled his hips back and snapped them forward, then sped up and gave you a pounding through your clothes.

Daveed hooked his fingers into your shorts, about to pull them down, when he stopped. He shook his head, trying to clear the sex high from his brain.  He stepped back.

You lay panting on the bed, lost in the moment.  You took a deep ragged breath to calm down and then turned over on your back.  You watched him watching you, knowing that he was holding back from fucking the shit out of you.

“What are you thinking Daveed?”

His voice was so damn deep. “That I want you to be ensconced around my dick. That I want all kinds of orgasms to happen, that you need to be cumming right now, Linden.”

He then cleared his throat.  “But that we probably have an audience right outside that door right now.”

“Hmmmm. I agree that I need to be cumming right now.”  You smiled at him and stretched.  ”But what about you Daveed?”

“Not quite yet. That HDD will be on point for the show tonight.”

You  got up on your knees, facing away from him and moved your hand to the waistband of your shorts. He watched in fascination as you touched yourself, your slick more than lubricating your fingers.

“What about me riding you on my knees. I LOVE Reverse Cowgirl.”

Daveed’s eyes began to water as he saw the vision. He saw your arm moving and your hips undulating. He moved behind you and pulled you to lean back onto him, your shoulders against his chest as he looked down to watch you finger yourself under the shorts.

So fucking sexy.

“What are you doing?” His velvet voice in your ear was everything.

As if he didn’t know. As if he couldn’t see. As if he wasn’t just doing the same thing less than two hours ago.  The view from over your shoulder was the shit.  Damn shame there were clothes involved, but the fact that they were his clothes made it pretty hot.

“MM.mmm...mmm…” You were gasping, his voice and proximity getting you there quickly.

“No, that won’t do.  If you wanna be a Good Girl for me, you gotta use those words.”

“Fuck.. I mean… Yes. Sir…” 

You heard his chest vibrate with a whimper when you said that.

“What Are you doing Linden?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head and it lolled against Daveed’s chest as he brought his hands up to your hips to help keep you steady.

“I- I’m trying to cum, Sir…”

“Where is your hand?” Daveed was intently using his imagination to visualize.

“Nnnnh nnh, circling my c-c-clit…”

Daveed huffed.  “Good Girl.”  He gripped your hips harder as they shook.

“Are you wet like you were earlier?  That shit feels like, like, liquid satin.  Man, I can’t wait to be deep in that…”  

He dipped his lips to your neck, eyes glued to your arm emerging from your pants.  He bit at your pulse point.

“Ah!”  You were sooo close.

“I just hope you can take it all. S’pretty big.”

You whimpered at the thought of the pleasure, and at the yearning to be filled up right now.

“Ohhhhhh.” So very close.

“Need time to prepare you. It might hurt a bit at first.”

You bit your lip at the spring was about to snap.

“But I think I know that you like it to hurt a lil bit... I don’t give a fuck if you get mad, I might have to buy you some nipple clamps…”

His hands moved smoothly up your sides under the t-shirt and cupped your breasts, ghosting over your rock hard nipples.  Suddenly, he took each between his thumb and forefingers and twisted roughly.

“FUCKKKKKKK!!”

Your body rocked at your orgasm and you took your hand away from your core, too sensitive to continue. Daveed grabbed it and took it to his mouth, sucking your juices off, causing aftershocks to jerk your hips.

He moaned with your fingers in his mouth and then released them, kissing your neck again.  He chuckled.

“You wouldn't get off that easy if I had the time.  I’d make you take all of everything.  Including your orgasms. Better be ready.”

You turned around and stepped off the bed into his arms. Daveed held you, not daring to go down to the bed again.

Your head was on his chest.  Even after all that, you were too shy to look up in his eyes.

“How do you make me cum doing the bare minimum? You hardly touched me.”

Daveed smiled.  He felt the same way.  He was about to nut in his pants like a teenage boy a few minutes ago.

“You sure you want this?”

You finally looked at him.  Those eyes.  

“Yeah.’

“You sure you want all this crazy?”

“Mos def.” Daveed kissed your forehead and smiled down at you, eyes crinkling adorably.

It was time for your hands to roam.  You palmed him through his jeans.

“Let me take care of you D….”  You moved to unbutton him and he pulled out of your reach as you pouted.

Daveed smoothed his thumb over your lips.

“Like I said, I’d like nothing more.”  Then he cocked his head and looked up.  “Well, I’d like few things more… but If my dick comes out in this room right now, we would not leave for the rest of the weekend.”

He leaned down to kiss you with a sweet and filthy promise.

“Patience, Lindy.” He took a deep breath and backed toward the door.

“See you at dinner.”

You just stared at him, daring him to stay.

“Ok. Leave then. But Daveed. If I hear you turn my doorknob, I’ll be faceup on the bed butt-ass naked, waiting for you if you come back in.”  You started unbuttoning and unzipping your shorts.

Daveed stopped with his eyes wide, the angel and devil in his head wrestling with each other. He finally cleared his throat as he turned around and left.

“See you at dinner Lindy.”

The vision of you bending over toward him taking down your shorts with an evil smile was burned into his brain as he closed your door.  He stood there looking at the floor and contemplating going back in.  When he looked up, there were four pairs of eyes looking at him.

He straightened up and went to his room as his friends watched him like a hawk, then rolled with laughter.

-----

Daveed hopped in the shower, and quickly got himself off to calm down.  He slipped on some blue swim trunks and his white sunglasses, ran out and cannon balled into the pool, causing Jasmine to cuss him out as he splashed her hair.

He’d been chilling on a pool float a good twenty minutes when he saw his favorite animal out of the corner of his eye. Damn. 

“Look at that genius ass.”

Rafa commented and looked over from the float beside him and laughed at Daveed who was crossing himself.

“Dude! You’re jewish.”

Daveed cocked his eyebrow at his best friend. 

“I’m gonna need all the help I can get.”

You’d spent 30 minutes picking out your most modest swimsuit, then grabbed a quick shower. You were shy by the time you walked out onto the pool deck, but no one was paying that much attention to you.  No one, except for Daveed.

His chill disappeared as he climbed out of the pool, over to your lounge chair.  Your sunglasses only partially hid you clocking him as he emerged, dripping wet.  Damn, that body you thought. 

He walked over to the chair next to yours and picked up a towel and started to dry off.

“Hey. You good?”

You smiled at him. 

“Hey. I’m great.” You smiled wider. 

You appraised him, as the delicious smell of something cooking wafted from the house. The sun was still bright, even though it was afternoon.

“You need a hand with some sunscreen? You’ll want to make sure that it is on evenly.”  

You stood up and bent at the waist to get the sunscreen out of the bag you’d brought out. Daveed licked his lips and you were all too ready to get your hands on Daveed again.

He looked at you and bit his lip.  “Sure, why not?”  

He cocked his head and eyebrow at you.  Then, he raised his hands to the side of his body..

Your mouth started watering.  You went around to his back and resisted the urge to put your arms around him and rest your head on him. 

Instead, you evenly distributed some cream on his well-sculpted shoulders and back.  You let your fingers dip a little bit into his swim trunks, feeling the top of the muscles contained within.

“Turn around.”  Your voice was everything at that moment to Daveed.  He did as you commanded.

“You don’t think I can take it from here?”  He questioned you as you squeezed some more cream into your hand.

“I have a technique. I can make sure it’s on evenly.  Its already out of the tube.”  You looked him dead in the eye as you rubbed your hands together, listing the reasons why you should keep your hands on him.

Diggs chuckled, then let you have your way.  

“I’m all yours."

His eyes held a look like he meant it when he said that. Your heart did a funny dance.

You held his gaze as you spread the cream on his shoulders and out to his arms.  Then, you got some more cream and started on his pecs.  You spread it on, rubbing your palms against his nipples.  

Daveed’s eyes closed in ecstacy.  Then, your hands went down.  You traced his eight pack as you continued to stare him in his eyes which opened as you started going south.

You licked your lips as your hands went where his happy trail would have been if he hadn’t shaved.  At that moment, his cock jumped and you were so close you could feel it. 

Your eyes widened when you remembered that you were not alone….

Shit!  

You and Daveed both turned your heads and saw your friends watching the show as you were about to go for the gold in Daveed’s swim trunks.

The deck erupted into screams, whistles and applause as everyone laughed at your lust.

You both blushed and moved apart. 

“Okay pervs, the show is over.”  Daveed said as you moved to sit on the beach chairs.

D returned the favor for you;  his hands on your body having the same effect on you as earlier, but the difference was you were self conscious now.

-----

Dinner was chill, and you two enjoyed your surroundings and your friends, both of you sitting as far apart as possible.  

The dance you did was delicate, but everyone noticed the new intimacy despite the high sexual tension. You drank some wine, but not too much, and Daveed had about two Johnny Walker Blacks. 

Rafa led the discussion of music, politics and culture and the weekend was vibing.  You were very content in the moment. By 7:30, Daveed, Rafa, and Ant had to start to get ready to leave for the show.  

You walked him inside and you shared a few kisses.  You felt like a kid as he held you.

“Daveed.”

“Yes?”

“Daveed, tonight I want….” you looked into his eyes, which were meeting yours boldly.

“What do you want Lindy?”

“I want you to be with me tonight, Daveed. Spend the night in my room.” Daveed was on top of the world.

“Done.  But I want you to decide after the show what we're going to do in your room tonight Lindy.  We can just go to sleep.” His smile was mischievous.

You didn’t understand. “You playing hard to get?” 

That heat, that anger in you. That was that shit he liked.

“Oh. I’m not hard to get. Get me hard Lindy.” Knowing full well he was a second away form just that.  

“Meet me backstage after the show.”

He pulled away and went into his room, leaving Linden hot, bothered, and soaking wet.

----

Next Chapter

Ahhhhh! I feel so rusty! Let me know if it’s any good. I missed this!

Taglist. (Let me know if you want on. Or off, lol)

@theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @curtainremote @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @peaches-and-mangoes​​

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 9 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 10 After Cardan left the stage, Jude dried her eyes hurriedly and wondered if this would be a good time to make a discreet exit.

Now that she was back from the whirlwind that was her LA trip, she was surer than ever that she was just as talented as any of these suits and gowns, and she had no desire to be made a wall flower just because she didn’t have deep enough pockets.

Jude turned to the aisle, and almost jumped out of her skin when she found Cardan crouched there in the dark.

“Cardan?!” she hissed.

“Shh!” Cardan said. He grabbed her hand, pulled her out of her chair and behind a shadowed curtain. Jude thudded against his chest, with heavy velvet at her back.

“Hey,” Cardan whispered. “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Jude whispered back. “Why are we hiding in the curtains?”

“Because the door will be very loud, and very bright if we open it,” Cardan said, “but if we wait until everyone else is leaving, people will try to talk to us.”

“You mean you,” Jude corrected. “People will try to talk to you.”

“Yes and me will be here with you, which will attract attention and then they will try to talk to you too.”

“Well maybe I’d like to talk to them, then. Use a bit of your stardom for my own gain,” she teased. Cardan rolled his eyes.

“Trust me, the gossip column of the Juilliard Journal isn’t your ticket to fame.”

At that moment, someone coughed in the row of seat closest to them, and Cardan pulled Jude further back into the curtains. They were silent for a moment, but no one approached them. The MC was still speaking. Cardan peeked out at the dark audience, and Jude was very aware of how close they were pressed together.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked him quietly.

“Well,” Cardan said, “we wait here until all the students come back out for the final bows, and then we sneak out the side door. It’s just through the curtains here, and the noise will be covered by the applause.”

“Right you are, Ninety-Nine,” Jude said seriously. Cardan snorted under his breath. The MC was running through a list of thanks.

“So how was LA?” he asked her.

“It was really good,” Jude said. She swallowed. “Thank you. Without you, I would never have… thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Cardan said. Jude looked up at him, and his eyes seemed to glow at her in the dark. She looked away.

“You… you wrote my mother’s song,” she said.

“I didn’t know it was your mother’s,” Cardan replied.

“I didn’t even know you’d heard me singing it.”

“Well. I do live in the apartment above yours.”

“You do.”

“It’s been awfully quiet without you.”

“Lucky you.”

“I’ve missed you,” Cardan said, finally. Jude glanced up, surprised. He was staring at her mouth. “Your song has been the only thing in my head for weeks.” He pushed a stray curl out of her face, his fingers lingering around her face, and Jude put her hands on his chest.

“Cardan,” she said.

“Mmm I’ve missed that too,” he said, and his thumb stroked her jaw. Jude’s eyes fluttered, and Cardan moved in then and pressed his lips to hers.

This was something that Jude had made a concerted effort not to think about over the past twenty-two days. She and Cardan had hooked up in the practice room before she left, and then before she had time to think about what it might mean or what exactly she might actually want from Cardan, she was on a plane to LA. On Cardan’s credit card, no less.

And then there was the work to concentrate on- the trip was Jude’s chance to get a foothold in the industry and she didn’t want to be mooning over some boy while she was there to work. So she had shoved all thoughts of Cardan and his long piano fingers to the very back of her mind and very pointedly didn’t think of him while she was away.

And now here he was with his hands in her hair and his tongue skirting the edge of her lower lip. And there was no ignoring him now. The hot thing in her belly that she had repressed all memory of came roaring back under Cardan’s touch, and his lips on hers were softer than the velvet curtains surrounding them.

“Where have you been?” Cardan sighed between kisses.

“You know where,” Jude told him.

“I can’t sleep without you,” Cardan admitted, and Jude didn’t know what he was talking about. They had never slept in the same bed.

Before she could ask, the audience stood suddenly and began applauding and cheering, the noise washing over them like a cold ocean wave.

“Let’s go,” Cardan said in her ear, and then he leaned against the crash bar of the side doors and let them out into the daylight.

//////

Cardan pulled the door shut behind them and then grabbed a hold of Jude’s hand. He knew that now the students would be walking out on stage again, and very soon they would notice he was missing. So he hurried them out of the building and would not slow down until they were off campus. As if on cue, his phone rang. Cardan silenced it.

“So,” Jude panted, “are we running from anyone in particular or just your usual horde of adoring fans?”

“The fans are vicious,” Cardan replied. And then after a minute, “and so are my parents.”

“Your parents are here?”

“Yes,” Cardan said shortly. “Traveled quite some way, too.”

“And you’re not going to stick around for them?”

They had just reached their apartment building.

“No,” he said. “I told you, they’re vicious.”

“But everyone loved you,” Jude said. “You made people cry.”

Cardan shot her a wolfish grin. “Were you crying in there, Jude?”

“No,” Jude replied quickly. “Just some people were.”

“Moving, was I?” Cardan asked. They were now climbing stairs.

“For some people,” Jude repeated. “Anyway even I have to admit you were great. I’m sure your parents will be looking for you.”

“They know where I live,” Cardan said. Then he stopped suddenly. “That’s a point. Let’s go to your place.” He turned around and went back down the last couple of steps to the landing for Jude’s level, and opened the door. Jude followed.

“My place?” she echoed. “My place is a mess, I’ve had unpacked and there are things everywhere.”

“So?” Cardan shot back. “It can’t be worse than my place. Plus,” he said, leaning against the wall when they reached her door, “I can’t help but look forward to the idea of you at home again.”

Jude gave him a long look, then. They had finally stopped moving, and her eyes roved over him. He knew what he looked like. Dark circles under his eyes. A little too thin under his dress shirt.

Jude opened the door, and he nearly fell in after her.

“Alright,” she said, “just give me a minute to pick some of these things up.”

But Cardan didn’t have a minute. He pushed the door closed behind them, and gathered Jude back into his arms. She was a little taken aback and rocked on her feet, but he leaned his forehead against hers and willed her to understand how much he needed her to just be here with him.

Didn’t need the apartment to be tidy, didn’t need to readjust to her being back, didn’t need to talk about his parents or his performance or his past three weeks.

Just needed her in his arms and under his lips.

“Jude,” he murmured, looking at her through his eyelashes. “Jude.”

“What’s wrong, Cardan?” she whispered to him.

“It’s hard when you’re gone,” he said.

“Why?” Jude asked.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

But how could Cardan tell her? How could he admit that he slept on the floorboards most nights just to be close to her voice?

Besides. Sleep wasn’t what he wanted now. So instead of answering, he kissed her again, and was more than a little relieved when she lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders and kissed him back.

“Did you really miss me?” Jude asked.

“Every day you were gone,” Cardan said, and pulled the clip from her hair so that it fell around her shoulders. “And now all I want to do is keep you here and never talk to anyone else again.” He put his lips against the soft part of her throat, and sucked against her skin a little harder than he had meant to. Jude shivered in his arms.

“I don’t know about ever again,” Jude said.

“For a week,” Cardan said, biting down on the join of her shoulder. God he could just eat her alive. Jude chuckled.

“I have to work at some point. Gotta pay my debts.”

“For the day,” Cardan tried. Pleaded.

“Okay,” Jude breathed. “The day.”

“Deal,” said Cardan, and then he tightened his arms around her waist and his mouth on her mouth and walked her backward. It was only three strides to Jude’s bed.

****

One more for smut? One more for smut.

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish @story-scribbler @thebonecarver @realbookloverproblems

[definitelyseven]

deal | one (m)

summary: when your step-mom unexpectedly offers you a deal you can’t resist, you decide to give her a taste of her own medicine by seducing her potential suitor, Im Jaebum. 

one (m) | two | three (m) | four (m) | five | six (m) | seven | eight (m) | nine | ten | eleven | twelve (m) | thirteen | fourteen | fifteen | sixteen | seventeen - final |

You slowly opened your eyes adjusting to the light that was coming in from your apartment window. You groaned, burying your face in the pillow next to you when the violent knock on the door became louder. 

It was 7am on a Saturday - you thought after a long week you’d finally be able to sleep in. You dragged your feet to the front door. Someone better be dying for them to wake you up this early. You swung the door open, annoyed. 

“Oh god,” you groaned seeing the person in front of you. As if your morning couldn’t get any worse; the one person that you wouldn’t care if they died, appeared on your front door.

“Well good morning to you to, Y/N,” she said stepping past you and walking inside your apartment.

“Please come in,” you said sarcastically, shutting the door behind you. 

“Goodness your apartment is small and filthy,” she commented while covering her nose.

“My apartment is perfectly fine. Thanks for asking,” you said walking towards your kitchen and pouring yourself a glass of water. “What do you want?” 

“Y/N, I am your step-mother and you better respect me.”

You gave her a subtle smile and in slow motion you gave her the finger. She cleared her throat, ignoring your rude behavior. 

“I’m here to offer you a proposition,” she sat down on a stool by your kitchen island. You carefully watched her, waiting for her to spit out whatever it is she was here for. “After your father died,”

“Don’t you dare talk about my father,” you warned. Your father died 3 years ago, leaving all his money to his young wife and daughter. There was no doubt that she was after his money all along - she was only 7 years older than you, 25 years younger than your father. Because you were underage at that time, she was put in charge of all your money. By the time you were able to claim your inheritance, all the money was spent. There was nothing left for you. 

“Fine, I have potential suitor and I need your help to show him that I’m capable of being a good wife, a good mother.”

“No,” you rejected. There was no way in hell you would help her swindle another man - no way.

“20 million dollars,” she said. 

“What?”

“20 million dollars - that’s what your father left you. If you help me, that’s how much you’ll get in return.”

“You said the money was all gone.”

“It is, but this potential suitor is richer than your father. $20 million is dropped changed to him,” she said with a big smile on her face as if it was the proudest thing she’s ever done.

“No way. I won’t help you swindle another man like you did with my father.”

“I loved your father.”

“You loved his money,” you spat, taking a step towards her.

“Think about it, but don’t think too long. He’ll complete his move into town in a couple of days,” she said leaving your apartment.

As much as you hated her, you needed the money. You were in debt - credit card bills, rent and worse; tuition. If this man was stupid enough to like her, maybe he deserved to be tricked - just like your father did. Besides, what more can he be losing besides money?

So here you were, standing in your new bedroom in her man’s new house. Part of the deal was moving in with her and pretending to be the perfect step-daughter that is so grateful for her step-mom. It made you want to vomit, thinking about how you had to pretend to like her in front of him. But $20 million, it should be worth it. 

You were busy unpacking your things in your room when you hear her annoying voice call for you downstairs. You rolled your eyes at the sound of her voice and walked downstairs to greet her. You told yourself to remain calm and keep composure around her new man - for $20 million you thought. 

“Y/N, sweetheart,” she said extending her arm towards you, pulling you close to her side. You felt your skin crawl at how fake she was. “This is Jaebum, my boyfriend.” The man turned around with a big smile on his face. 

You stood their frozen. Isn’t he...wasn’t he...

--

“Hi everyone, my name is Jaebum. Jackson is out sick today, so I’m here to sub this class. Please grab your mats and we will get started with a quick warm-up.”

“Wow, the new instructor is hot. How come I’ve never seen him before?” your friend, Minju whispered to you. 

“Maybe because you come once a month?” you teased, earning a slap on your arm. You took this gym class every Tuesdays and Thursdays and this was your first time seeing Jaebum.

During the workout, you couldn’t help but notice Jaebum paying more attention to you than to any other student; Minju noticed it too. Every time he instructed to switch exercises, he would always check on your form, holding you up when you started to lose balance. 

By the end of the workout, you were beyond exhausted. For some reason you worked extra hard today, maybe because he was paying so much attention to you. You laid on your mat, sweat dripping from the side of your face, your chest heaving up and down. The people around you were packing up and leaving but you stayed behind. 

“You did good today,” you hear someone say, making you sit up. 

“Thanks,” you said wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Do you have another class? I was going to finish up with some stretches.”

“No, it’s all yours. Do you need help?”

“W-what?”

“With stretching,” Jaebum said getting on his knees in front of you. You allowed him to help you as he laid you on your back. He pushed one of your legs towards your chest, slightly bent, stretching your glutes and the back of your thigh muscles. You groaned at how inflexible you were. Jaebum gently pushed your leg further towards your chest while leaning his body onto yours. His pelvic area now dangerously close to your core, making your lower body tingle. 

Minju was right, he was so hot. 

He got up off you slightly to switch to your other leg. Once in position, he leaned close to your body, his pelvic area now touching your core. You gasped at the contact. “Too much?” he asked. You shook your head which encouraged him to lean closer to you. “You’re tense,” Jaebum said while massaging your calves. You bit your lip, holding back a moan. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to seduce you.

“How does that feel?” he asked moving up towards your thigh. 

“Mmm...perfect,” you purred, opening your eyes and looking at him. He was so close to you. His hands inched closer and closer to your core, you gulped, holding your breath. 

“Relax...” he whispered softly. Listening to him, you exhaled and relaxed your body. With each exhaled, he pushed his lower body closer to yours. Feeling his length on you made you wet. 

Getting off of you once again, he pulled your other leg close to your chest. Now both your legs touching your chest, your ass exposed to him. He moves close to you again, pressing his pelvic area on your ass. 

He was definitely trying to seduce you and you didn’t mind. He was so hot. 

You decided to test your theory by rocking your body slightly back and forth, pressing your ass on his crotch each time. His cock was definitely growing hard. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered, holding your body still. 

“Don’t do what?” you asked innocently, batting your eyes at him. He grabs you by the waist and pulls you close to him. You moaned feeling his length pressed on your core.

“Do that,” he breathed out. “That feel good?” 

You bit your lip, slowly nodding in defeat. Jaebum leaned down close to your face, inches away from your lips. You gulped, nervous. He connected his lips with yours, wrapping your legs around his waist. You instinctively rolled your hips towards his. 

This was inappropriate. You’ve never done anything like this before. The risk of having someone walk in on you and the instructor making out on the floor of the training room was exciting. It was different and it turned you on even more. 

Jaebum’s hand reaches for your core, slightly running his hand up and down folds. You cursed yourself for wearing light grey leggings, afraid that your juices would seep through your pants. He pulls his lips away from you and looks down at you. “I wonder how wet you are,” he said out of breath. You feel his thumb press against your clit, gently stroking it. 

“Why don’t you find out?” you teased as you lifted yourself slightly upwards with your elbows.

This was bold of you; very unlike your usual self. You could see his lip twitch as he lifted your lower body up and pulled down your leggings in one swift motion. 

“Is working out in a thong comfortable?” he asked leaning down to kiss your pelvic area. You laughed. 

“No, but it makes my ass look great.”

You hear him chuckle, moving your thong to one side. His lips quickly connects to your core. “So wet,” he mumbles into your core. His mouth works wonders on your core, sucking and nibbling every now and then. Jaebum runs his tongue up and down your folds. When he reaches your clit, he gives it a gentle suck, making you thrust forward. You spread your legs further apart, craving for more friction. He savored your core like nothing else, moving his tongue strategically over your core, making sure every inch was taken care of. You tangled your fingers into his thick hair, pushing his head closer to your core. 

Fuck, it felt so good. 

He pulls away from your core for air. His nose, lips and chin covered in your juices. You watched as he reaches in his pants and takes out his already hardened cock. You licked your lips before looking behind you to see if anyone was opening the door; not that you could tell. You got on your knees and guided Jaebum to sit back. You opened your mouth, tongue out, ass up, eyes locked on his before taking his cock in your mouth. He moans once your tongue touches him, his cock already twitching. 

“Imagine if someone walked in right now, your ass up, pussy exposed,” he said grabbing your hair in his hands. Your eyes still locked on his as you stuck your ass further up, giving it a little shake before moaning. You could feel your juices running down your thigh. You bobbed your head up and down his length, hands around the bottom of his length, milking him. 

You never really enjoyed blowjobs, but he was different. You wanted to suck him till he came in your mouth. With each suck, you felt him twitch against your tongue. You moaned sending a vibration on his cock. This only made him thrust further into your throat, making you choke on his cock. He guides your head further down his cock as he feels you choke with each thrust. His moans were music to your ears. 

He moves you away from his cock and connects his lips onto yours. Jaebum shoves his tongue in your mouth as he grabbed a hold of your neck. You crawled on top of him. Your pussy already drenched, you sat down on his cock, rubbing your juices all over him. You teased yourself, rubbing his cock against your folds, giving you the friction you craved. 

“Come on baby. You don’t want someone to walk in on us,” he commented, grabbing a hold of your hips to stop you from teasing yourself. You listened to him, guiding his cock into your pussy. You sat down slowly until he bottomed out. He was thick and big - you waited a bit to get yourself adjusted to his size before you started moving. 

You knew you didn’t have much time, so you started rolling your hips forward, grinding your hips onto him. Jaebum held onto your waist, thrusting upwards. You pressed your upper body against his, kissing him. You stuck your ass up as he slightly pulled out of you. You quick brought it back down, shoving his cock back into you, making you both moan loudly. 

From a distance, you could hear laughter growing closer and closer making your heart race; someone was about to come in. You didn’t care though, you wanted to be caught. 

“I want someone to walk in on us and watch us fuck,” you said against his lips. “I want them to see your cock in my pussy,” you said rolling your hips forward. “I want them to see your cum dripping out of my pussy.”

You don’t know what took over you because you’ve never had a thing for dirty sex talk. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he said holding onto your hips tighter. You felt the pit in your stomach begin to grow as your nails dug onto his chest. It felt too good to hold it in. Holding your breath, you tried to calm yourself down, but his vigorous thrusts drives you near your edge. You could tell he was close to with his sloppy thrusts. His hands reaches for your clit as he rubs you roughly. You screamed with pleasure overwhelming you. He pinches and rubs your clit, his thrusts never stop, as you came hard onto his cock. Your body twitching from being overstimulated. 

You felt your core clench on his cock, making him thrust into you harder until you felt his hot seed in you. The both of you let out a final moan, savoring the intense orgasm you both just had. 

--

“Y/N...” you hear your step-mother call, bringing you back to reality. 

“What?”

“I said this is my boyfriend Jaebum,” she said with a slight glare.

“Right,” you stuck your hand out for him to shake. “Hi.” 

He smiled back at you, “Hi Y/N. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Was he pretending not to know you on purpose? Did he forget about you? 

It wasn’t like that happened years ago; it was only two months ago. You could never forget what happened in the gym room and you had hoped he didn’t forget either although you never saw him again.

“Appa!” you hear someone call from behind. You turned to see a little boy running towards Jaebum. He lifts the boy off his feet and into his arms. He was so cute.

“Y/N, this is my son, Mingukie,” Jaebum introduces with a big smile on his face. 

In that moment, you didn’t know what shocked you more - the fact that he had a son that your bitch of a step-mom didn’t tell you about, the fact that he forgot who you were after the best sex of your life or the fact that you slept with your future step-dad. 

[songofclarity]

What do you think would happen if WRH discovered MY was a spy earlier? Would he kill him or would he pretend he has no idea of MY's truth while using him and feeding him information that will give the Wen an advantage against the SSC if leaked?

An excellent question, Anon!

Wen RuoHan would of course be fully justified to kill Meng Yao. While he also had the right to kill Nie MingJue and didn't take it, Meng Yao is betraying the Wen and has the arrogance to spy on them in their own home. I can honestly see it going either way, however, depending on the circumstances and just how Meng Yao pleads his case.

As for using Meng Yao themselves...

For one thing, Wen RuoHan doesn't strike me as conniving. From the guest cultivator to Meng Yao, we see him listening to others and following their lead. When given the opportunity to pave his own path, such as when the Sunshot Campaign is declared and the Wen could stomp on everyone, his response was, basically, for them all to do nothing and wait for the Sunshot Campaign to simply blow over. Wen RuoHan doesn't want the other sects to be destroyed, he wants everything to go back to normal (with the Wen Sect back on top, yay!). By all means then, what Meng Yao's spying would have to win them is peace. That's not something Meng Yao of all people could help them achieve.

For another thing, Meng Yao was, by all means, a terrible spy on purpose. One reason there is not even a hint of any great final battles in the Sunshot Campaign was because Meng Yao did not want this to be a team effort. No one is winning ANY grand battles with Meng Yao behind enemy lines because how do you give credit to an invisible hand? He did not want the sects to win the Sunshot Campaign with or without his information, but he did not want them defeated, either, otherwise his efforts would be wasted. Depending on what was happening at the time and what information he was passing along, it might just look like he was already feeding information to the Sunshot Campaign himself to help the Wen. How loyal he would have appeared!

I haven't seen it talked about before, but let's look at what Meng Yao's spy information actually did and how it would have looked to the Wen.

During the Sunshot Campaign, stories were told about all three of the Venerated Triad. The ones of ChiFeng-Zun were about how he swept over all obstacles, leaving not even a trace of the Wen-dogs after he finished. (ch. 48, ERS)

Whatever information Meng Yao provided Nie MingJue would have been tenuous at best because otherwise Nie MingJue would have swept all the way to Nightless City and won the whole damn thing himself. Give Nie MingJue an opening and he is busting through. Even when critically injured and barely on his feet, he cut through all of Wen cultivators who tried to protect Wen RuoHan in the Sun Palace. Only Wen RuoHan was strong enough to take him down (and did so 2x).

Even before the false information regarding Yangquan, Meng Yao was likely providing information which hindered Nie MingJue and the Nie's advancement toward Nightless City in order to keep Nie MingJue at bay--and keep him alive, which Lan XiChen would appreciate and continue to give faith in Meng Yao. Remember that after Meng Yao betrayed Nie MingJue and the Jin at Langya, there was no way he would be accepted back with open arms. That Nie MingJue's most loyal subordinates are killed and Nie MingJue is dragged out of the Sun Palace owing Meng Yao a life debt is no happy coincidence. Meng Yao played Nie MingJue in the worst way to ensure Nie MingJue would NOT be able to stop Meng Yao's return to Koi Tower. But to let Nie MingJue die would ruin relations with Lan XiChen and the Nie. Nie MingJue had to be defeated to let Meng Yao come out on top, but he had to live so as to not reflect badly on Meng Yao.

If Wen RuoHan and the Wens came across Meng Yao's information to the Nie early on, it might just look like Meng Yao is already feeding bad information to the Sunshot Campaign himself! After all, the only ones who knew what happened in Langya are Meng Yao, Nie MingJue, and Lan XiChen, and none of them are broadcasting it. Therefore Meng Yao could pretend to still be on good terms with Sect Leader Nie, tell Wen RuoHan he is deceiving the Nie for him, and actually look even more loyal to the Wen in the end.

The way Wen RuoHan asks Meng Yao if Nie MingJue is the one who killed Wen Xu followed by Meng Yao's ready confirmation suggests to me that Meng Yao had everything from Yangquan to the Sun Palace planned. He had informed Wen RuoHan of what to expect already: Wen Xu's killer, and thus Wen RuoHan inquires. Meng Yao didn't wait for the Wens to use him and freely gave them what they wanted since it's what he wanted, too.

ZeWu-Jun--Lan XiChen--however, was different from [ChiFeng-Zun]. After the situation of the Gusu area had settled down, Lan QiRen was able to defend it with great tenacity. Thus, Lan XiChen often traveled to aid others, saving lives from danger. In all of the Sunshot Campaign, he had countless times recovered lost territory and assisted narrow escapes. This was why people were ecstatic whenever they heard his name, as though they gained a ray of hope, a powerful trump card. (ch. 48)

Lan XiChen is different because he not a fighter who can win the Sunshot Campaign. I know CQL and the donghua show him fighting in all his fierce glory with Shuoyue in hand, but that is not the kind of person he is in the novel. He is gentle and picks Liebing, who pacifies, over Shuoyue, who slices through, every time until the last scene. He is the only person who could have ever stabbed Jin GuangYao, because he is the only person Jin GuangYao would never suspect harming him since Lan XiChen never harmed anyone.

So to anyone who wonders why Lan XiChen believed so much in Meng Yao being a good person despite Nie MingJue's testimonies: it's because Meng Yao was providing information to Lan XiChen to help regain territory, aid others, and save lives from danger. Any murder and torture Meng Yao did in the Nightless City was thought to be minor compared to all the good his overall spying did for the Sunshot Campaign. Lan XiChen saw firsthand the GOOD that Meng Yao's spying could achieve and thus had faith in Meng Yao being fundamentally a good person. (Sadly, he was misled.)

But Lan XiChen was different from Nie MingJue. Lan XiChen couldn't win the war himself whereas Nie MingJue just might. Lan XiChen got the good information while Nie MingJue got the mediocre and, at the end, the information which threw him to the Wen-dogs.

Compared to Meng Yao's spy information directed to Nie MingJue, the information given to Lan XiChen would look suspect by the Wen. Lan XiChen is undoing whatever advances the Wen are achieving. This is part of why the Sunshot Campaign is in a stalemate for those last ~2 years: it's just back and forth with gains and losses in equal measure. It's what Meng Yao wants until he can ensure all the credit for his efforts go to him and no one else.

If Wen RuoHan and the Wens came across Meng Yao's information to Lan XiChen early on, that would look like Meng Yao is betraying them. This would look like a killing offense! The arrogance to think he could spy on the Wen! The Qishan Wen accepted Meng Yao in good faith when his own father gave him the cold shoulder, and he's still picking that father over Sect Leader Wen!?

But I hesitate to say Wen RuoHan would kill him because when do we ever see or hear about Wen RuoHan killing anyone!? He doesn't kill his enemies and the one ally he killed was that cultivator who was thrown at him in the midst of a fight. Yes, the novel tells us per rumors that Wen RuoHan sometimes enjoys torturing people who offend him, but that still doesn't mean they die in the end.

So I turn our attention to Wen ZhuLiu, our most reliable Wen RuoHan character reference. When deciding whether to follow orders or go completely against them, Wen ZhuLiu makes an interesting observation about what might happen to him:

Yet, there were no worst circumstances, but only worse circumstances...

Yet, in such a situation, the woman [Wang LingJiao] was on the verge of losing her life. If he did nothing, Wen Chao would definitely fly into a rage and refuse to let him go. And if he refused to let him go, then Wen RouHan wouldn't leave the matter at that either. (Ch. 58, ERS)

The worst circumstance is, of course, death. But Wen ZhuLiu reveals that, in this case, betraying Wen Chao, who had given orders to protect Wang LingJiao, does not make him afraid for his life. Acting against the Wen would make a mess of a situation for sure, but he is not afraid that he would end up dead. Life will become worse for him, but not the worst.

Meng Yao would be punished if he were caught, because how could he not, but it's rather unlikely his life was ever in danger. He was already acting as a reverse spy for the Wen of his own accord, so he was not truly at risk of being used or mislead by them.

Also a key aspect of Meng Yao's character is that he does not put his own life on the line. He hides behind others. He does not sacrifice himself for any cause or any person. (I'm sorry CQL lied to everyone by showing him use his body to protect someone else. Nothing could be further from the truth.)

Nie MingJue, "Then why don't you sacrifice yourself? Are you any nobler than them? Are you any different from them?"

Jin GuangYao stared at him. A moment later, as though he had finally either decided on something or given up on something, he replied calmly, "Yes." He looked up. In his expression were some of pride, some of calmness, and some of a faint insanity, "I and they, of course we are different!" (ch. 49)

If being with the Wen or working under Wen RuoHan was ever dangerous to him, personally, Meng Yao would have been gone long ago. If there was any risk that Meng Yao would find himself on the receiving end of his own torture devices, he would have killed Wen RuoHan already and fled out the door immediately. Instead, he stayed until the very end and did as he pleased and got everything he wanted at Wen RuoHan's expense.

I dare say Wen RuoHan is much more like Lan XiChen and Nie MingJue than we all give him credit for. Jumping to murder is actually not the norm. Meng Yao is simply an outlier who does too much murder and should not be counted.

[fireleaptfromhousetohouse]

Confessions Of A Whale

(Epistemic status: over-simplifying a culture that is not my own for the sake of an elaborate analogy)

Supposedly, Japan remains so hell-bent on slaughtering whales as a fairly direct result of the West’s own hubris.

From the day those Portuguese landed in Nagasaki, Japan found itself on a short and brutal crash course with the Occident. There was an overbearing and one-way cultural influence even before America hit Japan with two weapons of unimaginable destructive power and made them do everything they said. 

(One wonders if they’ve become wary about any new development coming from the city of Nagasaki.)

What must really sting about this is that most of our hilarious cultural stereotypes of them wacky Japanese stem directly from Western influence. The used-panty vending machines? A product of importing European lingerie, which having come to Japan was initially only really worn by prostitutes, creating an indelible link between underwear and sexuality (beyond even the obvious). Those famously long working hours? An economic system foisted wholesale upon them by their American conquerors. Even the famously pixellated genitals of Japanese pornography only came about following the Japanese legal system’s own wrangles with the translation of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. And whaling itself? While Japan had practiced it for centuries, it kicked into overdrive in the twentieth century because of a helpful suggestion put forward with the best of intentions to help feed post-war Japan, put forward by military governor Douglas ‘Big Mac’ MacArthur.

Eventually, Greenpeace happened, and in most of the West, slaughtering whales went out of fashion. And obviously we appealed to our Japanese allies to give it up as well - but after years of saying yes to all our weirdo demands and requests, however uncomfortably sexual in nature they might be, this time the Japanese said no.

Awkwardly, this was a time the West’s casual, blithe demands for cultural hegemony might have actually mattered, since many of the hunted whales are endangered species - and, endangered or not, are being killed in a profoundly cruel way. But did that matter in the face of getting to tell the West where they can stick their run-dry reservoir of goodwill? Did it trousers.

(More pointedly, pro-whaling Japanese have made the point that Norway and Iceland, also avid whaling nations but European, never seem to get singled out in the same way.)

Some tradcon with a Latin username has doubtless already made the comparison between the West’s not-quite-colonial influence on Japan, and the Western liberal media’s not-quite-colonial influence on the wider population of the West, better than I could (and they probably shoehorned in a reference to used-panty vending machines too). And the most obvious parallel is that, after many years of outsize influence, the well of goodwill has finally run dry at an inopportune time.

The liberal media, bluntly, has made a series of demands which many Westerners may not have liked, but found themselves obliged to go along with. Some were good ideas (racial equality), some less so (go into thousands of dollars of credit card debt). Some were received well (the war on terror), some poorly (gay wedding cakes). Swap those sentences around according to your own opinions, obviously. The point is, there is a very long list of examples of what you might call top-down governance by the back door.

Eventually, though, the massive, building, groundswell of ‘no, fuck you, we’ve done what you told us and it’s been dreadful, time for something different, time for a change, time to defy you no matter what issue it’s on or what the consequences are’ was bound to burst. And it happened over the issue of wearing face masks during a pandemic. You know, one of the times these endless blithe demands for cultural hegemony might have actually mattered.

(The Trump presidency and the broader populist right are clearly drawing on the same groundswell, but how much they actually represent it is far more debatable - particularly given how easily they’ll flip-flop on wearing masks when they predictably contract Covid themselves, or otherwise flip-flop on any issue the second it affects them.)

Looking at any anti-masker rhetoric for five minutes gives the game away - despite some tenuous efforts to seem scientific (like the popular analogy ‘if you’re wearing trousers, farts can still get out, hur hur hur’), it always, always, comes down to a slightly wheezy version of the rebel yell. They posit wearing a mask as a sign of supplication to the world government or whoever, and conversely, see the act of not wearing a mask as something like raising the Gadsden flag or launching a broadside against the HMS Royal Oak.

The liberal media, for its part, reacts as it always does: claiming that the defiance of its will is an act of objective evil that any fool could see is flatly wrong - but, most importantly, ignoring the aspect of this being a defiance of its will. Why would anyone ever want to do that, after all? Don’t they know we’re always right?

[jan-marie]

Things My Dad Gave Me: A Scarcity Mindset

My dad died a week ago Friday. I’m trying to process his loss the best I can (with no help from my insane relatives), which involves a lot of reflection on our better memories, which either center on shared musical experiences, or Christmas. But of course the rougher memories trickle in as well.

I remember the year my dad declared bankrupcy like it was yesterday. He was living in Tobyhana, a small town in the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. He was driving a gold Daewoo he’d been leasing (Dad loved cars, but hadn’t bought one new in decades; used sales or leases were his bag). He’d been bouncing around apartments in Whitestone, in the city, where everything is smaller and more expensive. So before Tobyhanna, when I came to visit my dad (once every third month, or on holidays) I stayed on couches, or Dad slept on the couch and I took his bed. In my nine years on earth, I never had a room of my own, until that house. I remember when it was empty and he told me it was mine. I remember coming back three months later and he’d bought me a bunk bed, with a futon bottom that folded out into a double bed. He told me I could have a friend come stay sometime if I wanted. I could be so bold as to make friends in Dad’s neighborhood? And not wonder if he’d move again and I’d never see them again? How novel! I remember us going to Rite Aid, where Dad loved to go on shopping sprees (because you could buy so many things, for so little money per item!) and getting a Little Mermaid figurine to put on the dresser (there was a dresser!). It was the cherry on top of the perfect room sundae, and it was all mine.

I remember three months after that, when he told me it was all gone. The house, the bunk bed, the figurine, the Daewoo. It had all been “repossessed,” a word I’d never heard before, by the bank. My mom tried to explain to me the concept of “credit card debt” with little success.

The next month was my birthday. Anyone who’s known me since childhood wouldn’t be surprised that I grew up to become a professional vocalist. I was constantly singing, making the world my stage. My elementary school peers nicknamed me “Jukebox.” So when my dad bought me a karaoke machine for my birthday, you’d think I would’ve been over the moon. And I was, until I saw that he’d left the sticker on: “Rite Aid - $49.95.″ I didn’t know how much $50 was exactly, but it felt like a lot. After my dad left to go back home, I told my mom I didn’t want the karaoke machine, and to ask Dad if he could take it back to the store. He called, confused, “Don’t you like it?” “I love it, Dad. I just don’t need it.” 

A few months later was Christmas. I always spent Christmas Eve with Mom, and on Christmas Day, Dad would come pick me up and we’d drive into the city. We’d go to Radio City Music Hall to see the Rockettes “Christmas Spectacular” show (cancelled for the rest of this season on the day he died; fitting), then go see the tree in Rockefeller Center, then go ice skating in the plaza, then go look at all the lights in Douglaston. 

This Christmas was different. We couldn’t go see the Rockettes this year, he said. I threw a tantrum. I didn’t understand. We could still go see the tree and skate though, which appeased me well enough. But on the way walking there I saw a pretzel vendor. “Dad I want a pretzel.” “I thought you wanted to go skating?” “I do! I also want a pretzel!” “You can’t have both.” “Why not?” “Because I said so.” I chose skating, of course. But that moment is seered into my brain because it wasn’t until years later, when I could grasp the idea of debt, that I realized I couldn’t have both because he couldn’t afford both. Or Radio City. Or probably skating either, but he made it happen. 

He taught me the necessity of choice, and the idea of needs versus wants, at far too young an age. 

So consequently, here at greater than thirty years of age, I’m still struggling with a scarcity mindset. Even though I don’t need to. Scared of “ending up” like my dad, I’ve always been careful with money. I’ve never had a late credit card payment since opening my first account at age eighteen. I’ve foregone so many trips and foods and experiences because I understood that once you spend money, it’s gone forever. Instead, I saved it for a rainy day. I haven’t really had one yet, but I’m still waiting for the shoe to drop. And since I can’t shake that feeling, I can’t loosen the overly tight grip I have on my own bank account.

My phone is dying. It doesn’t have last more than 2 hours off the charger, and you can’t hear anyone talking unless you put them on speaker. My tablet shuts off randomly if you look at it funny. I can’t use my laptop without keeping it plugged in because the battery is 20 charge cycles from causing permanent damage to the hard drive. I broke three pairs of headphones this year, and haven’t gotten new ones; I instead hold my phone and bike with one hand which is crazy dangerous. 

A phone or tablet is like $700. A laptop is probably double that. But headphones are about $15—and I can’t bring myself to buy any of it. And when I do buy nice things for myself, I get massive guilt, and return it all. Almost every time. Because no matter how much money I make, or save, I am always waiting for someone to come take it away, to the point where I not only don’t spend money on leisure, I don’t even spend it on necessities. 

I guess my love of minimalism aligns nicely, but I wish it fit for different reasons. 

What did your parents give you?

[goatbi]

Last Friday Night

"Could you send Ishida Uryu down to the office please? His father is here to pick him up." Uryu stared blankly at his paper on the desk, feeling his heart stop. Of course they were caught. Why wouldn't they have been caught? Phi knew this was gonna happen. It's not like phi had tried to hide it after all.

Rather than have the teacher say anything to him, Uryu started packing up his bag, taking the chance to glance back at Ichigo as he did. Ichigo met his eyes, then gave one, quick short nod. Good.

With that set, Uryu stood, leaving the classroom, careful to keep his spiritual energy as tamped down as possible. Underneath Ichigo's, it would be hard for Ryuken to note anything, so hopefully it wouldn't be too suspicious. This was, after all, their only chance.

Instead of heading down to the front, of course, Uryu went the other way, as Ichigo left the classroom and headed down to the front himself, taking him and his mass amount of spiritual energy with him. From personal experience, Uryu knew that if someone who was very sensitive to spiritual pressure, like ve and ver father, being next to Ichigo was an almost complete sensory block. Of course, it had to be inconspicuous as possible, so Uryu could get to Urahara's before Ryuken realized, and hide out in the basement for a few days. Thus, Ichigo had been avoiding going down there for an unrelated fight, that he really wasn't at fault for, but was involved in, and thus, needed to talk about. Giving him an into the office without Ryuken being... too suspicious about it.

With that, Uryu snuck out the back doors of the gym and broke into a run. He had to run, of course, seeing as there was no way he was going to use Hirenkyaku this close to Ryuken. It would give them away in a heart beat, and Uryu wasn't going to risk that. Not yet.

Phi couldn't keep up a full speed sprint for longer than a minute, but it got phim far enough away from the school that Ryuken would also have to run to catch up, and, if Uryu's senses were correct, which they usually were, Ichigo was right next to Ryuken at this moment, leaving Uryu safe, for at least the next five minutes. Not enough time to make it all the way to Urahara's, but if he kept up a brisk jog, he could get most of the way there, and then, when Ryuken realized he had been juped, use Hirenkyaku to get the rest of the way there before Ryuken could catch up.

He kept a close eye on Ryuken's spiritual energy, still sitting in the school, irritation and anger floating off of him in waves as he sat there longer, as ve made ver way to the shoten, in hopes that ve would make it there on time.

They were still nearly a mile away when Ryukens spirtual energy suddenly made a move, storming out of the school and moving extrememly quickly in Uryu's directon. Ichigo's cover must have failed, or Uryu's own control slipped, or maybe Ryuken finally just parsed through the dense cloud of ichigo's soul-reaper-quincy-hollow nonsense to find Uryu far gone from the school. Now was a good time to get goign quicker.

Uryu ducked into an alley, gathering reishi under his feet and then slipped past, away from the normal humans in a blink of an eye. They didn't notice, since using this meant he was more spirit than human at the moment, though even he would admit to not knowing quite how it worked.

Ryuken was gaining on him, but Uryu just grinned and poured on the speed. Ryuken was rusty, and Uryu practiced daily, researching and learning in ways Ryuken would have never thought to do.

Ryuken never even got close to him when Uryu slid into the Shoten, to Urahara's waiting arms, and into the basement, which cut all spiritual energy in and out. Ryuken's presence disappeared from his senses, and Uryu grinned to himself, settling his back against a rock to wait.

Urahara wandered down almost an hour later, having finally gotten Ryuken off his tail somehow, though Uryu didn't quite know how. Ryuken was a beast when he had his mind set on something, but still. Urahara settled into a spot across from Uryu, who simply looked up at him, smiling faintly.

"Now, I don't mind hiding you out here for some time, to escape him, at all, ever, but I would like to know what exactly you did to get him so angry with you?"

Uryu grinned, leaning back against the rock behind him. "So... recently, as you know as you were there, I finally.... came clean, about some of the things Ryuken did and was like when I was younger... And Ichigo had come up with a bit of a plan of revenge, I guess."

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

It was Ichigo's idea, because only Ichigo's ideas were this stupid. However, when it came to Ryuken....

"How many people are we inviting?" Uryu muttered, and Ichigo just grinned.

"I told Rangiku to spread the word that we were going out in the world of the living. So we'll see."

Uryu sighed, thinking of the three cards he had tucked into his pocket, then wondered just how many people he would end up getting drinks for. Well. It's not like it was his money anyways.

Tokyo was a large city, one that could accommodate the six hearts group, most of the lieutenants, and a good few of the captains of the Gotei 13, and even some of the random other officers. Uryu was far more surprised to see Kenpachi wandering around followed by Ikkaku and Yumichika than phi probably should have been.

Fake IDs weren't... too hard to get. Really, it was more Rukia's fun little memory machine than anything else, considering a good amount of them had put their real birth years on their human world IDs and well... when almost everyone there was over a hundred years old, there was some confusion.

Either way, they settled rather quickly into a routine. Uryu would open a tab, they would stay for an hour or two as the various shinigami would drink double their body weight, then Uryu would hand over one of Ryuken's cards and they would move on.

They night got blurrier as it went on, and people dropped like flies, only to be replaced by soon-to-be-drunk shinigmi that seemed to come from the walls at this point.

Uryu wasn't exactly sure what population of the seireitei he got drunk that night, but in the end, he had maxed two of Ryuken's cards, and had lost the third, which was the unfortunate end to the night, leaving the remaining stragglers-some who had somehow been drinking through every single bar-to stumblr back to Urahara's, and Ichigo to pay for a hotel for anyone who didn't think they coul dmake it all the way back to Karakura.

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

"So that's why I got so many drunk shinigami wandering into my shop." Urahara smiled behind his fan, and Uryu just shrugged, grinning towards him.

"So... weekend in Tokyo, getting him into mass amounts of credit card debt, and drinking underage with a mass amount of shinigami.... he's gonna be pissed off."

Urahara hums a laugh, standing as he did. "Take as much time as you need, Ishida-kun. I'll ward him off as long as you need."

Uryu nods, looking back to his book settled in front of him. "Tell Ichigo where I am when he shows up."

Urahara waves as he disappears back up the ladder, leaving Uryu back down in the basement.