#he is so smug. he is so entitled but he deserves a little cockiness for it

[jils-things]

love of my life :]

[yesimwriting]

Searing Starlight (chapter one)

SERIES SUMMARY: the most powerful inferni alive, raised to see herself as a god-in-the-making, the bastard of the barrel and his team, and a shadow summoner with a common goal. What could go wrong? The giant mass of darkness known as the shadow fold and y/n’s sense of humor. 

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Y/n is sent to hustle the Crow Club. Technically it’s not cheating, but Kaz Brekker isn’t the type to let people off on technicalities alone. Especially when the one that committed the offense could help him earn 1 million kruge. 

a/n just a little something based on the show bc IM OBSESSED :)) --I’m planning on making this a series so if you want to be tagged let me know :)

The candles flicker as Kenya's palm makes contact with my face. I used to cry after he hit me; I used to run to Anya’s room for comfort and my energy would became so irritated I snuffed out all the candles in the church. Now, I just stand there. You get punished worse for showing fear. Gods fear nothing, and that’s what he wants from us--to turn into Gods so that the heavens will owe him. 

“You risk us again and again!” 

The yelling is worse than the stinging of the slap. I make a point of keeping my palms flat; the candles of the room flicker as if feeling my restraint. “Watch yourself or the tidemaker you’re so fond of will feel my wrath instead of you. At least when I bruise his face it doesn’t cost me a night of revenue.” 

I want to point out that the men I trick in the pleasure district don’t care about bruises, but the reminder of Jace has me frozen in place. Jace is good. He doesn’t deserve this treatment. “It won’t happen again, Father Kenya.” 

He nods once, unsatisfied but growing bored. “Disappear from my sight before my flesh wins and I forget to show you mercy.” Kenya turns sharply, watching Anya’s stoic expression. “Anya--we’re in need of funding, take these coins and triple it by morning.” 

Anya’s lips part; I shake my head once, a subtle plea for her silence. “Father Kenya, y/n’s the most talented card player we have--if she comes with us we can bring five times what you’re going to give us.” 

The promise Anya makes is that of a fool, but I know I’m capable of it. People are easy to read when they’re drunk, they’re easy to trick and lie to. And drunk people exude the clearest energy, something about their bluffing is as tangible as fog to me. 

Kenya squeezes the drawstring bag between his violent fingers. He loathes me more than the others. He expects more from me. He’d lock me in the cellar if he could afford to. But he can’t--he knows what I’m capable of. 

“Go somewhere in the Barrel--somewhere that doesn’t ask questions if the money is good.” Kenya looks at me, the bruises on my arms and cheeks. “Clean yourself up beforehand.” 

I nod once, stomach rolling at the thought of going out and knotting at the thought of staying here. I keep my steps even as I approach Anya, grateful for the excuse to disappear behind the chapel’s doors. 

----

This club is louder than most, boisterous men drinking constantly, slurring their words and leaning over bars. I only smile when someone’s looking, tugging on the dress Anya picked for me subconsciously. 

“Relax, y/n,” Anya hums, “Men don’t understand they’re being hustled when someone pretty is the one swindling them, and you look hot.” 

A particularly drunk man walks by slowly, eyes reflecting no shame as he blatantly rakes his gaze down my form. I shift uneasily. “That might be the problem.” 

She tilts her head back, gaze focusing on the crow marking etched into the back wall of the club. A very strange and consistent crow theme in here. “Maybe you should keep the dress on until you run into Jace.” 

The mention of Jace in that context leaves my face warm. “Wha--what?” Great. I’m sputtering. “Shut up!” 

She laughs easily, “I’m only teasing--he’d probably ta--” 

“Anya!” 

Again, her laugh is loud and bright. “Kidding!” Before I can scorch her, she nods her head towards a gambling table. “An open seat--go, you know Kenya’ll have our heads if we don’t multiply this,” she tosses me the drawstring bag, I catch it awkwardly, “By five.” 

There are a lot of things I’ve ruined--but I never mess up when it comes to gambling. We’re all entitled to our talents and mine are destruction and trickery. “I’ll have six times this amount before midnight.” 

A little cocky, but it’s well deserved. I stroll up to the table easily, comforted by the fact that Anya’s only a few feet away. 

“You’re playing this round?” 

I smile politely, used to this kind of hesitance. “I think I’d like to try it.” The mock-hesitance in my voice burns coming up, but the dumber I seem the faster I make up my money. The rest of the participants snicker. Expected. I’m going to enjoy taking their money. “I can pay if that’s the issue.”

The sound of me fishing through the small bag of golden coins silences the men at a table. The man closest to me, the one with smooth brown skin and a smile I imagine has convinced many people to play into sins for him, leans forward slightly. I let him peek at the coins, the more they want my money the more they’ll believe my lies. 

“How much to enter?” 

A tall man snorts. I fight back the urge to glare. 

“Three of those coins should do.” The boy next to me is decent enough to answer. I’ll steal from him least. “I’m Jesper.” 

I’ve been to enough clubs to know when a man is attempting to find company for the night. I hope the playful niceness I see in him is real. “Kamil.” My sister’s name is salt water on my tongue. 

The first game is easy enough to throw. The second, I have to work at a little more--their smugness is killing me. I pretend to be ready to step away from the table.

“Where are you going?” 

I shrug at the stranger. “I shouldn’t lose any more money, my father won’t be happy with me as it is.” 

The stranger leans forward, glancing at his chips. “We don’t want a girl like you in trouble at home--why don’t we up the stakes? You win this next hand, and you’ll win double what I did.” He pauses, eyeing my drawstring bag, “Of course--you’ll have to be willing to risk a matching sum.” 

Awful odds. “Deep odds,” Jesper mumbles, “Consider cutting your losses.”

Jesper is a better person than the other men here. I almost feel bad he’s going to be losing any money. “One more game won’t kill me,” I smile as politely as I can manage, “Besides--my luck could be about to change and I’d never know.” 

I hand the coins over to the dealer. I watch as the money is shuffled onto the center of the table, suppressing the grin of someone about to release her killshot. Ten minutes later, I’ve doubled what I’ve lost. The man who upped the bet is gaping, Jesper’s expression has shifted entirely, and everyone’s staring at me like I’ve shifted into another person entirely. 

“Wow--luck really does change quickly here.” I’ve hooked them. They’ll want to play again, to prove that my victory was a fluke. “Do you guys want to play again? It only seems fair I give you a chance to win back everything you just lost since you did the same for me.” 

Everyone’s quick to agree, but I’m quicker to win the second round. Some men look murderous, some look ready to play again, their egos incapable of handling defeat at my hands. 

“You came in with a surprising amount of coins,” Jesper muses, reaching over to pick up a piece of gold that rolled towards him, “I hate to accuse you of counterfeiting, but one has to wonder.” 

Typical. “I swear my money’s real.” 

“Real money can take a bullet…” Is he going to shoot it...in doors? Jesper tosses the coin easily, letting it flip in the air before taking out a pistol and shooting it dead center in a movement so casually fluid and deadly I’m taken back. 

The coin clatters onto the table, the bullet embedded into the precious metal. I eye it cautiously, beyond relieved that Kenya at least doesn’t lie. “T-told you.” 

His eyebrows narrow as he reholsters his pistol. “About that, I guess you did.” 

Jesper’s skepticism is a red flag. I need to get out of here before my winnings are taken from me and Kenya kills me or Jace for my failure. “I didn’t take you for such a sore loser.” 

Before Jesper can respond, something black raps against the table once. “What did I tell you about loud noises at the table?” 

Jesper’s gaze leaves mine immediately. “Sorry boss, just checking a swindler.” 

He--he knows. I blink twice, forcing surprise to color my features. “Swindler?” I look between him and the man he called his boss. “N--no, it was just--luck. I played a hand, I lost some money, I played again and I won some money. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work?” 

“You only started winning after the stakes were raised--I’ve seen that tactic before and it’s not appreciated here.” 

I swallow once, a pinch of dread making its way through my stomach. He had shot that coin with no hesitation--I didn’t even see him click off the safety. How dangerous is the man at my table? How dangerous is his boss? Everyone seemed to straighten at the sight of the stranger with the cane. 

“There was no tactic--it was a game.” 

The man I don’t know tears his gaze away from Jesper. “Someone like you shouldn’t even be here.” 

He has a point--my demeanor doesn’t exactly scream someone who frequents establishments at the Barrel during the night. “I’m only here to keep my friend out of trouble.” A fair enough response. “And I played a game and someone can’t handle a loss.”

“You should have seen her bluff, I’ve met professional thieves that lie less fluently than her.” 

At Jesper’s words, the stranger’s grip around his cane tightens. I imagine that beneath his gloves, the color of marred souls, his knuckles are white. “Who do you work for? Who sent a girl to invade my business?” 

Who do I work for? No one that has any business with him. “What?” How self absorbed can one man be? 

“If playing the fool didn’t get you through a card game--don’t think it will get you through this.” 

What? Before I can question him, Anya grabs my shoulder, pulling me so that there’s a safer distance between me and the man. 

“You’re an idiot,” her whisper is pointed, directed solely at me. “Of course you’d find trouble with Dirtyhands.” Did I hear that correctly? Dirtyhands--as in the Dirtyhands? I stare at her, eyes wide. How had I been so stupid? I should have recognized him from his gloves alone. Anya turns her head towards them. “We don’t want any trouble--forgive my friend, she’s not a spy she’s just an oblivious idiot.” 

“Rude.” 

She throws me a glare. “But she did win.” The money isn’t worth the trouble we’ll find trying to keep it but Kenya’s words follow us wherever we go. “We’ll take what we earned and never come back.” 

“I don’t concede often.” 

I reach for Anya’s arm, brushing her forearm in hopes of telling her things will be okay. Kaz Brekker may be feared, but we’re gods in the making. “Neither do we.”

He seems to want to play at an odd, power-filled standstill, but Anya and I are more desperate than him. Anya leans forward, ready to take the money from the table, but the unidentified man who upped the stakes earlier is quick to grab her forearm. 

“I don’t take losses, little girl.”

Anya. I can only imagine the horror she feels when a strange man touches her. Screw precaution. “Is that money worth burning for?” 

“Y/n.” Anya’s warning comes out low; Jesper raises an eyebrow. I guess being Kamil was short lived. 

“Excuse me?” 

The man will not intimidate me. Fear is a crutch men use to keep women in check. “You heard my question.” I hold up my hand, releasing enough energy to develop a flame in my palm. “And if your answer is ‘no’, I suggest you release my friend before your body is nothing more than a pile of ash your own mother wouldn’t even be able to identify.” 

The stranger blinks, touches the gun on his hip, and then releases Anya’s arm. 

“You can’t come into my club, hustle money away from my men, and walk away unscathed because you’re a grisha.” 

Words cannot express how badly I do not want to speak to Kaz Brekker at any point in my life. His grip on his cane is a silent warning--a threat. But what is a man’s threat to a girl that’s meant to be a god? “You can kill me but I’ll use my dying breath to burn this entire building.” I’ve publicly backed him into a corner--I’m insane. 

Dirtyhands opens his mouth to reply, anyone within earshot holding on for his next words. Anya yanks me back as the sound of something explosive interrupts the room. A bullet flies past directly where I was standing and strikes the wall behind me. Anya just saved my life. Someone just shot at me. 

“Y/n, do you think it’s--” 

“No.” It can’t be. There’s no way a soldier found me again. “It can’t be--we were--we’ve been careful--and Kenya said they wouldn’t look for me--that he purchased me fully.” 

A man is moving through the crowd. A blue kefta. No. No. 

Not here. Not now.

And why are they shooting at me? “Anya,” I breathe out as cautiously as possible, “Run and no matter what don’t turn around.” 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

Anya. Always the older sister. “They don’t want you--they want me.” 

“You’re not a real Sun Summoner--it’s suicide for you.” 

I don’t have the heart to tell Anya I don’t particularly care about my life. It’s never truly been mine anyway. “I’ll make it out.” 

“You’re an inferni, not a miracle worker.” 

My lips pull into an odd sort of grimace. The gentle kind one hopes is mistaken for a smile. “I thought we were meant to be gods.” 

“A god can’t do what they want from you.” She mumbles. “So you’re capable of producing more fire than most--it’s not the same as creating light. It doesn’t matter how many drugs they pump into you it’s--” 

I shake my head once, “Anya--go.” 

“They want you to play Sun Summoner.” Dirtyhand’s tone is too smooth to trust. I know when someone’s trying to sell dreams that don’t exist. “The way they’ll have you do it will cost you, but the way I’ll have you do it will be practically painless.”

Is he always this confusing? “What?” 

The question is an irritation, that’s apparent in the cold tint that takes over his practically blank expression. “I need a Sun Summoner for a business deal--and lucky for you I’m out of time.” 

“You don’t want to work with me.” 

“No,” his voice is dismissive, he didn’t understand I meant that as a warning, “But I need to have some form of mass light before sunrise.” 

“The man I’m indentured to will never go for it.” Proposing such an idea would leave me with a broken rib again. 

Dirtyhands nods once, a vague acknowledgement. “That’s not your problem.” I keep my jaw set, scanning at the crowd for a flash of that blue kefta. “After all, it wasn’t his problem when he hurt you.” 

I had been careful to hide the bruises. The reminders of my humanity. My weaknesses, my failures, written onto my skin in purple and blue ink. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I didn’t until I got that reaction.” I’ve never so quickly felt the need to loathe someone. “It was easy enough to assume--young girl, desperate for money, a grisha powerful enough to be hunted down.” 

Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation? “My freedom would never come so easily.” 

“It wouldn’t be freedom--you’d owe me more than you already do for the kruge scam.” 

I swallow before I can make the mistake of telling him I’d consider any escape from Kenya freedom. “Close enough.” 

The grisha’s closer now, the light blue kefta so easy to spot amongst a sea of darkness. “You’re running out of time.” 

“Can you get my friend out?” 

“Y/n.” She can be mad for the rest of her life if she wants. 

He nods his head once. “She’ll be out the back before anyone knows she was even here.” 

“And she can take the money I won.” Maybe the income will be enough to spare her from Kenya’s wrath. “That’s a dealbreaker.” 

Kaz Brekker hesitates. It’s such a normal pause I almost think it’s a trap. “If she takes it there will be no way out for you--you will do what I ask even if it endangers your life.” 

“Y/n, it’s not worth it.” 

I don’t look at Anya. “You have my word.” 

“Y/n, I’m not taking anything and I’m not leaving you.” 

I finally turn. “Don’t be a self-sacrificing idiot--it’s not in your nature and frankly it doesn’t suit you.” Acts of goodness towards me have always left me feeling raw. Too raw. Like I’m bleeding out. “Sorry, I just…” Anya’s eyes are soft. She knows. She always knows. “I’ll get through whatever it is he’s planning and I’ll come back.” I swallow once, nerve draining from my body slowly. “Take the money--Kenya will be angry enough as is.” 

Anya drops her gaze as she collects from the table. It takes me a moment longer than it should to recognize this is shameful for her. I consider telling her that she’s doing the right thing, but that would burn her heart more. 

“You’re my sister,” Anya’s voice is lower than it’s ever been, “I should have stopped him.” 

Her guilt hurts more than the bruises. “You were as hurt as me--you have nothing to feel guilty about.” 

This is already more emotion than we’re used to expressing when alone let alone around others. Anya stretches out an arm, squeezes my shoulder once, and then takes a step back. “I’ll see you again.” 

“Yes,” I nod once.

“Jesper, take the girl out the back.” Turning forward blankly, Kaz begins to speak to me, “Hide behind the bar--my wraith will find you and take you somewhere else.” 

“Y--you have a wraith?” And I thought Kenya was weird. He lets out a sigh. “Sorry. Not the time.” 

“Desperation leads to bad decisions.” 

Dramatic. “I agree.” 

His gaze falls on me, taking in my narrow-eyed glare. There’s a moment in which I think the left corner of his mouth twitches upwards, but then he turns his head again. A trick of the light. “Go before you’re found and I’m out the money I let your friend take.” 

Yes. I’m not exactly safe right now, but Kaz Brekker needs me for something. That means I will not be leaving this building. By force or willingly. 

Silently, I turn, melting into those in the crowd that are either oblivious or don’t care enough to react to the cat and mouse game I’m currently in. When I reach the bar, I’m quick to duck behind it, pressing my back against shelves of alcohol. 

[aitarose]

YELLOW DAISIES (A. MIYA) pairing: miya atsumu x fem!reader

synopsis: atsumu miya, japan’s most entitled player, the person that strangers resented for unprecedented boasting and confidence—a facade as there was only one person who knew the real him.

word count: 1.6k

genre: established relationship, fluff, time skip

warnings: slight angst, asshole!atsumu?, hospital, mentions of death

notes: i’m only on episode two of season four so i’ve literally never heard this man speak a word, but i wrote this for some reason asjdfkl

↳ DIRECTORY

He was revolutionary—that was what flashed in bright lights in the media, magazines, and news when the name Miya Atsumu came into the picture. It was an honorable title, one that he’d earned from his years of experience, years of effort to become the best player he could possibly be. 

Fans of the game couldn’t help but admire his ambition, his confidence when it came to setting—when it came to being on the court. There was nowhere else he seemed to fit, no where else that deemed worthy of a man like him.

He was simply made to play volleyball, he was put on the planet to coordinate the team and help lead them to their respective victories. The drive he had was envious, admirable even to professionals that were years ahead of him in experience. 

But there was a catch, just as there always seemed to be a catch when things appear too perfect or other-worldly, as Miya Atsumu was considered the most egocentric man in all of Japan. 

Yes, his talent was astonishing and his looks trumped some of the most handsome men in the world, but he was a complete and utter narcissist to the public eye. A complete asshole in all senses of empathy. 

He was perhaps an enigma. A man that no one person could quite figure out. A total mystery to everyone but those close to him—to everyone but his twin-brother and the few teammates that he considered friends.

And it wasn’t that the public wanted to hate him, they wanted nothing more than to find a redeeming quality, something that would save his reputation—the ignorant reputation that he’d somehow managed to build himself over the course of his professional career.

Tabloids constantly had new headlines to publish, weekly reports on whatever star-born attitude Atsumu had acted on in public, during games, or even in the safety of the team’s after parties—parties that he’d rarely be found at.

The most common hate train would be the look he’d give the camera every time he so much as scored a point mid-match. The cocky, full of himself gaze to the viewers watching at home, as if to say that he was the real King of the Court. 

Holding up his hands in the shape of a heart, Atsumu would smile with a smug grin, teeth flashing white and sticking his tongue out dramatically. He’d hold the position for a few seconds, making sure that the camera got a good take of his face, before returning to the adrenaline rush of the game.

It was as if he became an even better player after his boastful routine, focusing on the game as if it was life or death, as if he would be ruined if they were to lose a single point—frightening the other team with one glance, one look forcing them to crumble underneath their own dead weight.

With his rare intimidating attitude, the Black Jackals had little to nothing to worry about when it came to their setter. He was reliable, always there to pick up the slack when all odds seemed to be against them—when the books refused to read in their favor.

And his teammates absolutely loved him, they knew him better than nearly anyone other than Osamu. When microphones and interviewers shoved misguided questions in their faces, they’d always defend him, as they were more than just players on the same side of the court—they were practically brothers.

So, when it’d be time to stay after the game to greet the fans, give them kisses on the cheek while the camera cemented their meeting in history, his friends paid no mind to how quickly Atsumu would rush out of the building. They’d pay no attention to how he’d refuse to entertain his fans, only stopping for one girl—one girl who’d offered him a bouquet of bright yellow daisies. 

“Thank you.” He’d mutter, nodding his head at the young girl before stalking off, ignoring how she fawned over the beauty of his facial features, obsessing over the way he’d just so much as acknowledged her existence. 

Pulling out of the stadium’s parking lot was always a big hassle, with the media and paparazzi awaiting his exit, video cameras taping his every move and step he took. There was zero privacy for him, every one of his secrets always seeming to be on film.

But Atsumu didn’t care, he didn’t mind running over a few parking cones, forcing the photographers to jump out of his car’s way, back onto the sidewalk where they belonged. He had absolutely no disregard for their safety according to the new’s titles.

As well as no respect to traffic laws. Speeding limits was a thing of the past in his mind, always going about twenty miles over, whether that was on a highway or neighborhood street. His life ran on double time, needing to be in a rush, a rush away from his duties.

His sports car headed north on the daily, never straying from its path, in pursuit of the same destination every day—every time he had the chance to escape the responsibilities of being a world-known athlete.

And though the world liked to act as if they knew everything about him, as if he was an open book whose chapters were updated every week, no one knew why Atsumu would spend so much time at the international hospital. Why he’d enter the building in the evenings and leave at dawn.

Even today, after the loss of a championship match, he wore the brightest smile on his face while holding a massive bouquet of yellow daisies—the flower that’d always accompany him through the blank grey walls of the healing center.

The grin would stay plastered, the expression reading ingenuity as he’d walk through the automatic doors, taking a final glance back to make sure that no one had followed him, before letting the facade crumble—before he let it dissolve into a somber frown. 

“Looking beautiful as always.” Atsumu laughed, waltzing up to the front desk, greeting his favorite worker as she rolled her eyes, passing him the check in sheet with a pointed look. “How’s my girl doing?”

The woman behind the counter took a deep breath, inspecting his signature to ensure that he hadn’t signed in the wrong place, before looking up to respond to his question—the same question that he asked her every day.

“Waiting for you.” She said, gesturing that everything was alright and he could proceed to the dual elevators that carried him to the top floor, the floor in which permanent residents stayed. “She’s up there waiting, just like she always is.”

Blowing the clerk a joking kiss, Atsumu carried on, holding the bouquet with a death grip, picking at the flowers to make sure that they looked their absolute best—that they deserved to be held in his favorite girl’s hands. 

Standing in the elevator, his heart dropped at each ding. It was a sound that he had never gotten used to, one that haunted him as he slept, taunting him as if to say that the minutes were counting down—the minutes losing their value, the minutes he had left with her decreasing. 

Despite how much he loathed the noise, how he wished he could shut it all off, make time stop just so he could have an infinite amount of moments by her side—he knew that life would come to the point in which he’d hear that sound one last time. A point in which he’d leave the building and never have a reason to return. 

As he approached the room he knew all too well, Atsumu brought his hand up to a light knock on the door, giving her a little heads up that he was there, that he didn’t forget about her even though he’d maintained his constant routine for months now. 

“Is that the famous Miya Atsumu I hear?” Y/N’s melodious voice called out, knowing all too well that her beloved boyfriend had arrived to harass her. Her already enlarged heart grew bigger at the sight of his brown eyes and golden hair that she’d always try to spot on the court.

While the world admired him for his physical beauty, she knew him for the beauty inside. The beauty that she was so blessed to see, the real personality that was reserved for her and her alone—not even Osamu had seen him so gentle, so caring. 

“Yer favorites,” he held out the bouquet to her in a regal manner, presenting it as if she were a queen and it was her crown. His dramatics sent her into a fit of giggles, accepting the flowers with a scoff as he rose up to press a soft kiss on her awaiting lips. 

“I saw you.” She whispered, pulling him down to meet her smile once more, relishing in the feeling of their love connecting. It was a feeling that she was addicted to, one that she longed for whenever he was away. “I saw you and the stupid little heart that you flash me on television.”

Atsumu helped her move over on the hospital bed, making enough room for him to lay down beside her as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, his head resting on top of hers. “Stupid? You sound like the rest of ‘em.”

“No one would be calling it stupid if they knew what it meant.” He pinched her cheeks, puckering her lips to a pout and kissing her over and over again. “If they knew I only do it because I want my girl to be proud of me.”

He sighed, holding her as if she would disappear if he let go, his fear of losing her of greater importance than any public opinion or false story. His fears being valid and reasonable as neither of them knew how much time they had left—how much time they had left to be totally and completely in love. 

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[iris-westallen1]

The Happiest Day Of Our Life

‘’Well today was the worst day ever’’ iris said as she dove right on the couch. Barry just sat there staring at his beautiful wife so mesmerized he didn’t even realize she was talking to him but he couldn’t help it he was married to the most gorgeous woman on the planet he still doesn’t know how he got this lucky to have her in his life… ‘’ BARRY!!’’ he was immediately withdrawn from his thought blushing and rubbing his neck a habit he had formed since he was little.    ‘’ are you even listening to me’’ iris said with a slightly annoyed face mixed with concern.

‘’ sorry honey but it’s your fault I wasn’t paying attention’’ Barry cheekily replied.

‘Look at him looking so smug with that cocky smile ugh I could just slap him and fuck him at the same time, gosh why is he so hot making my ovaries explode’’ iris thought to herself.

‘’ you know honey cocky is not a good look on you’’ said a smiling iris

‘’oh, you love it and me’’

‘’ well, I supposed that is true’’ iris slaps his knee as she get’s up from where she was laying on the couch to come snuggle into Barry’s side ‘’ hmmm I missed you today’’ iris said as she coos into Barry

‘’ babe I am sorry your day didn’t go as you wanted it to.’’ Barry strokes her arm and side ‘’ do you want to tell me what was going on’’

‘’ I know it might sound petty or whatever but its team citizen if I can even call it that Kamilla’s gone and Allegra she’s never there she’s always at star labs and I get that she ha powers and whatever but I would like her to take her job more seriously and not for her personal gain, I feel bad for what happened to her cousin I seriously geniounly do but the only time you hear her talk about the citizen is if she needs something from us and its making me seriously regret promoting her.’’ Iris took a deep breath she knows how this might sound and it might just be her hormones but she is seriously tired of Allegra’s behavior.

Barry saw how distressed his wife was about this so he decided not to say anything until she has gotten it all out her chest.

After taking a deep breath iris continued ‘’ so today I was in the office getting ready to go investigate karma, Kramer whatever the fuck her name is and I find myself missing and employee so I called her just to learn she is hanging around frost and Caitlin for what reason I do not know I’m her mentor not them I’m not paying her to hang out with them and I was just like you know what its fine so I just left her and went about my way to go investigate Kramer in doing that surprise surprise my dad is investigating her with Cecil when I was the one who brought this case to him and he brushed me off like it was nothing. And that’s another thing I am so fed up with my dad.’’ At this point iris is bawling her eyes and all Barry wants to do it take that pain away from her.

‘’ my dad hasn’t been acting like my dad for a while now and it took me getting stuck in a mirror to realize it. You know he never once asked me how I was doing when I came out of the mirror, he just brushed it aside like I wasn’t gone for 3 months he could at least show some emotions.’’ Her voice was cracking at this point ‘’ h- ho- how I- is it * sniff sniff* that his more of a father to you than he is to meeeeeeee’’ her chest and shoulder moving frantically.

Barry finally goes in soothing her ‘’ I am so so sorry you feel this way, how long have you been holding this in and I didn’t even notice, I am so sorry baby, just let it all out’’ Barry said as he rubs his hands in soothing circles on her back ‘’ just let it out I’m here’’

When she is calm enough she continues ‘’ I just feel so neglected as a daughter by him and Cecil Cecil doesn’t even try to bond with me, she’s been with my dad for so long and I don’t even know anything about her and when we do talk she always uses her powers to invade my privacy and when she does that she can’t even be subtle about it she always has to my extra and do to much’’ by this time iris is finished crying now what she feels is rage towards these people. ‘’ she is literally everywhere when there was still  a team citizen was still a thing she became our ‘lawyer’ and no one even asked her to no offence to her but she suck as a lawyer’’ Barry starts laughing and nodding his head because it the truth. ‘’ I’m serious hahaha but it’s funny though but seriously I don’t even know why we hired her as your lawyer for your trial she couldn’t even win it she had to use ralph pretend to be devoe for her to win and I thought she was the best Caitlin and frost are dumb to hire her as a lawyer she couldn’t even win their case and if she cant win any of our case what is her use at star labs her powers are useless there no offense she could be home with Jenna and speaking of Jenna it sucks that we never see her they never talk about her unless its to say they are talking to their babysitter so instead of her to go take care of her child she’d over here acting like a child and sticking her nose in everyone’s business. I am so sick of her.’’ Barry just sat there looking at iris and after hearing all she said he can’t help but see the truth in what she’s saying, how could he have been so blind to this. As he continues to rub her back iris gathers even more courage to finally let this all off her chest ‘’ after cisco left the one person at star labs besides you I could stand was gone he was my sunshine twin he would always try to cheer me up when we lost Nora and even when I lost you to the speed force he was always there for me and I miss him and I miss Kamilla because she understood me we where becoming close friends before we got stuck in the mirror together and now we have an unbreakable bond because of that experience and now she’s gone too not only did I lose my best worker but I lost my best friend too. All of a sudden Iris seemed to get angrier Barry didn’t know why but his about to.

‘’ Caitlin and frost’’ she said their names with as much annoyance as she could muster up ‘’ they are the biggest entitled people I have ever met before frost was a thing it was the way Caitlin always looked at me like I was beneath her or something like she couldn’t get rid of me fast enough then frost came and bitch tried to kill me because she wanted dick and some other issues I had never did anything to her never spoke to her but all of a sudden she wants to kill me why I have no idea and what pisses me of is the way we just forgive her just because she did the right thing in the end and blasted Savitar she came to h.r funeral and she left to go find herself or whatever you went into the speed force and she abandoned me, Wally, cisco, and dad to fend of the bad guys on our own. Then Caitlin came up in her in her high horse to bring you out of the speed force like she’s been here all along, then she lost frost with the whole devoe thing Caitlin literally put your life and gypsy’s life in danger all because she wanted frost back and despite my better judgment I went up to her during the baby shower we threw for Cecile to offer up my help to find the bitch frost for her and she was just snarky with me saying no she will find her I just gave up on that hoe what still confusing is how she can perform all this surgery’s she’s doing since she hasn’t done them since med school like isn’t she a bio scientist or whatever like how did she become team doctor she literally has no experience in that field all she does is just stitch you up with pretty much all of us can do now and she acts like she has the most important job there dragging Allegra and Cecile along with her.’’ Iris shakes her head ‘’ you know what’s do funny’’ iris asked Barry ‘’ what’’ Barry genuinely curious ‘’ that whole frost trial and how Caitlin was like we have to get her out she’s my sister, since when though, anyways they arrested frost for a crime that she actually committed its not like she didn’t commit them she literally tried to kill me and she wanted her to go Scot free when you went to prison for a crime you actually didn’t commit it just pissed me of and instead of dumb bitch to just take the cure she volunteered her self for life in prison thinking she was doing sum, I might not like Kramer but what she did to frost was not a bad thing she all she did was try to make frost take responsibility for her actions. But she never does like always she literally gets out of prison after like two days.’’

‘’ and another thing that pisses me off is the way they treat Chester that boy is so sweet and deserves to be treated with kindness so that why it irritates and makes me so angry to hear that Caitlin was yelling at him for getting hit even sue warned Allegra not to pursue after her cousin but she did anyways and brought her to star labs without our permission knowing she’s a dangerous criminal when her and Allegra get into it she blast Chester who was just there to bring them snacks and somehow Caitlin made it Chester’s fault? Like how does that even make sense. I am just sick and tired of all of this. I am supposed to be happy right now basking in love with my husband trying to conceive our daughter and we can’t even have the privacy of knowing if were pregnant or not because of Cecile invading your thoughts once again the negative result you got was meant to be shared with me not her and I know this is wrong but I am glad that the test came negative because it would be so unfair of her to know that I am pregnant before I know all because she’s nosy.’’ Iris finally finished her rant with a deep breath, she looks up at Barry and all she finds in his eyes are adoration, understanding, anger, disappointment, and love.

‘’what?’’ iris asked

‘’ you are the strongest person that I know’’ Barry whispers to her ‘’I don’t know how you let this in for this long because one thing I know for sure is that I certainly would have burst long ago.’’

‘’ I am so sorry that you’ve had to keep this all in for this long’’ Barry said caressing her cheeks ‘’ and I’m sorry If you felt like you couldn’t tell me, thank you for bringing it to my attention and after listening to you things need to change for one our personal life needs to stop being discussed at star labs where everyone can hear and the second is that Caitlin needs to not be our doctor and she is certainly not going to be delivering our baby and most importantly we need to set boundaries for Cecile’’

‘’ thank you, babe, for listening to me and letting me get this rant of my chest, I feel so much lighter.’’

‘’ its my job iris there is no need to thank me I will always be on your side ALWAYS.’’

[shinidamachu]

Holding On And Letting Go - Chapter IV

Summary: Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV

Word Count: 2180  Genre: angst  Fandom: InuYasha  Pairing: Inukag Format: multichapter  AO3 Link: 🌹  Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹

“I’m the one to blame and I know it. That’s the worst part.” InuYasha confessed to the dorment well in one of those nights, when he missed Kagome so dearly it was downright suffocating.

He would never forget the moment when she first taught him about the universe — how it was infinite and always expanding. He still remembered how small and overwhelmed it made him feel. 

Even now, that the memory was old and dusty, InuYasha felt the same. Missing Kagome was just like the universe — infinite and always expanding — and he was only himself, powerless and infinitesimal when faced with the immensity of it all.

“I shoulda fought harder for you.” The claws piercing his palm compensated the lack of emotion on the statement. “Not just that last time...” He shook his head, his brain flooded with images of the time they were forced apart and how he had been unable to do anything besides watch it happen. “But before that too. I shoulda told ya how much you meant to me, even though you knew already. I shoulda kissed you each chance I got. I shoulda apologized more.”

A lump housed in his throat as he recounted their journey on his mind, making sure to linger on the mistakes he made with the rawness of salt thrown straight into an open wound. Every argument they ever had seemed so pointless now, and yet, what wouldn’t he give for one more quarrel, if only to hear her voice again?

“And I shouldn’t have let you go!” All at once, the all too familiar anger started bubbling in the depths of his stomach, surfacing through his intonation. “What the hell was I thinking? That just because I wasn’t a selfish asshole for once, everything would be just fine at the end? It ain’t how life works! You’d think someone like me woulda learned that by now.”

Sitting on the grass, InuYasha fought the urge to scream in frustration. It was all bullshit. All of it.

“Before you, I didn’t use to do the right thing and we both know it. So why the fuck should I keep doing it now? ‘S not like it would bring you back.”

Deep down, InuYasha knew the answer. In the end of the day, her happiness and well being were way more important than his self-centered desires, and ultimately, he would never jeopardize all the effort he had put into becoming the man she showed him he could be — a man deserving of her. It didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for himself, just a little.

“They already had at least fifteen years of you in their lives, but we... We didn’t have enough time.”

Part of him argued that it would never be sufficient, no matter how many lifetimes they got bestowed with. The other part reminded him of all the times he had pushed her away.

InuYasha acknowledged his greediness right then. Kagome had already given him more than he ever dared to dream and admittedly more than he deserved. Most of his kind would die without knowing so much as the prospect of love, while he had experienced it in every shape. Because of Kagome, he had finally found a place where he belonged, with people who accepted him. That should have been more than enough.

And yet there he was, asking for more as if he was entitled to it, as if every good thing in his life wasn’t as bright as it could be if she was around.

What an ungrateful bastard he was.

“I need you more than they ever could, anyway.” InuYasha went on, wondering why is was so much easier admitting these things when there was no chance for her o listen. “If you ever come back, I’d do everything different. No more wasting time, no more acting stupid. I’d even tell you how much I love your food and the way you smell, ‘cause I do, I always did.”

He once believed that Kagome was born to meet him. Now it looked they were doomed from the start.

“Just come back and see.”

If the Honekui no Ido was a Wishing Well, her wish would be him.

She knew it was selfish, but it was true.

There was nothing she cared about more, nothing else she wanted so fiercely in her supposedly fulfilled life.

Day and night, she dreamed of better worlds, where they never had to be more than a heartbeat away from each other. If she could, she would change her own, just to fit him in it the same way his Fire-Rat robe used to fit around her shoulders — warm and familiar — and he would know he was safe and sound. She would rewrite each cosmical rule keeping them from being together, speak over the prejudiced voices whispering their bigotry at them, shield him from the hurtful things he pretended to be indifferent to even though it broke his heart. And they would get the happy ending they deserved.

“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.” Kagome remembered that day, swallowed by the sands of time, when she sat in the very well she now leaned against, and faced with these same emotions, asked InuYasha to stay with him. It was the moment she realized no amount of nasty blows to her ego could make her walk away. Her happiness was tangled with his. “And I promised you I would always be by your side. I guess things never work the way we plan, but I want you to know I would have kept my word. I still intend to.”

Kagome deliberately looked at the pile of books beside her. Most of them turned out to be useless, brimming with inaccurate information. A couple of few managed to carried interesting material and maybe Kagome could even teach Kaede a thing or two if she ever accomplished her main goal, but the rest were not written to be taken serious at all.

The girl, however, was no fool. It was highly unlikely that the solution she was looking for would be laying in a long lost book, and that just like in the climax scene of a hollywoodian movie, she would decode its manuscript, unsealing the magical time portal, consequently, reaching the anticipated joyous outcome, white letters rolling up the screen and lights turning on to reveal a clapping audience.

But what could she do except keep trying? The alternatives were way too depressing and she had promised him. She owed him — owed both of them — that much, and it gave her a purpose. Doing something felt good, even if something meant a new burn to a cauterized heart. What was a little drop of frustration for someone drenched on its rain? What was a little wave of sorrow for someone drowning on its waters?

It was also a good distraction from math problems and her oblivious — despite of  well meaning — friends. She welcomed those distractions as much as the lamppost lights that guided her way home.

Truth was, too many new moons had passed and it wasn’t lost on Kagome that the separation would affect her and InuYasha differently. While he knew she was out of danger, secure with her family in pacific modern era Japan, that same courtesy was never offered to her.

Sure, Naraku was gone and InuYasha would always have Tessaiga, as well as their friends, to support and protect him. But he was still a cocky half demon with a remarkable talent to lost his temper and a pretty respectful list of enemies. Trouble would find him one way or another. 

Part of her wondered if it already did and, as much as it hurt to consider it, that was why he never met her after the five hundred years gap. But then again, it could also mean that he didn’t have to, because she found a way to get back on her own. 

Her attention went back to the open book on her lap.

“I just… I just need to see if you’re okay.” Pleaded Kagome, aware of her own lie the second it left her lips. Just a glimpse of him, brief and distant as it may, and she could never walk away.

The night came and went as she devoured the pages, in vain. Then daylight touched Earth, imposing and golden like his eyes.

The sky was so clear, not a single cloud dared to taint its dazzling blue. Around him, InuYasha could see all the summer colors, as bright as they were, from the floating orange of the butterflies to the endless rainbow of flowers gifted to them by a generous spring. Nearby, he could hear the birds singing their jubilant melodies and the village’s children playing under the sun.

It was a beautiful morning and he hated it.

A day like that without Kagome to enjoy it was such a waste. Everything about it seemed pointless — wrong, somehow — since she wasn’t there to see it.

Particularly, he had grown fond of the cloudy days. It was much easier to blend in. Everybody gets a little sad when it rains.

But InuYasha couldn’t control the weather and certainly he couldn’t extinguish the distance separating them either, as he had previously learned. All he could do was sit there and wait for her.

“And now the little brats are getting old enough to chase me around.” Continued InuYasha, on yet another detailed report Kagome would never hear. “‘S a nightmare, I’ll tell ya. Not even you or your mom were so obsessed with my ears and that’s sayin’ a lot.”

His heart clenched at the thought of the kind woman who had treated him like a son from the very start, but it didn’t last long, as he could practically hear Kagome’s giggles. He had no doubt she would find the whole situation insanely amusing, much to his pretended annoyance.

He didn’t even try to fight his smile.

“Can you believe it? Miroku and Sango have twins!” InuYasha exclaimed, because he sure as hell still couldn’t, no matter how many times the living proofs climbed over him, pulled his hair or pestered his poor ears. “I mean, ‘course you can. You saw it coming way before I did.”

Well, not even her wildest guess would have bet on twins right away, but the important thing was the monk and the slayer were really making marriage work. InuYasha would give anything to see her smug I-Told-You-So expression.

“They’re really happy.” And they had every reason to be. Against all odds, they were together, they had a family. After so much trauma, fights and goodbyes, they managed to stood side by side at the end. They had earned that. InuYasha knew it. And he wanted to be happy for them. He was happy for them. He just couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that would come along with every look, touch or gleeful moments shared between the couple: it should have been Kagome and I. 

Then guilt would hit him like a punch, making him avoid the pair for a while just to feel even worse. It was much harder to feel happy for someone else when his own happiness was in the other side of the well with her. 

“They miss you, though.”

“Congratulations!” Kagome walked in, dropping her purse to the base of the Honekui no Ido to grasp her hair in exasperation. “You have finally made Tokyo boring and I thought this was impossible!”

The schoolgirl spent the whole day out, passing by parks and stores that had been so fascinating to her in the past, but that now just couldn’t catch her eyes. 

Since she was a little child, she always felt her city like a living entity. Pulsating, stimulating, a surprise on every turn.

Then, years ago, she had fallen into that damned well and the conception of adventure that she once had changed forever.

In that new, exciting land, Kagome had been a fish out of temporal water, but then she decorated the tides and made them her habitat. Now that she was isolated from it, she missed it like crazy and the place she used to call home didn’t felt like home anymore.

She was a fish out of water again, but this time in her own town.

The city lights were as pretty as ever, but they could never match the starry night sky from Feudal Era and the more she walked through the comfortable pavement, the more she longed for the freshy grass. It was sickening and frightening.

For her family, Kagome desperately kept trying to make things go back to the way it was before — Studying, hanging out with her friends, helping in the shrine. She never told them it wasn’t working. There was no need to hurt them over nothing.

But she didn’t belong there. And she hadn’t for quite a while.

“What do I do?” She whispered.

A/N: one day I’ll write something that isn’t angst again... but today was not that day. Thank you for reading, tho. It means a lot to me. Oh, and let me know if you want to be tagged or something. See ya!

[theliterateape]

They Didn’t Vote For Trump. They Voted Against Us

by Don Hall

Growing up I went to a variety of elementary schools. We moved around and so I was cursed with being that new kid almost every year. The effects of this were plentiful and included a tendency to find the edges of acceptable behavior, the boundaries of what was considered appropriate, and poking through the natural hypocrisies of any institution to find the cracks in which to climb.

By the time I entered eighth grade in Benton, KS I was primed to be a complete pain in the ass. What I didn’t know was that I wasn’t going anywhere from that point until I graduated high school so those impulses to bend and break the rules of decorum and establish my own sense of autonomy within what I had grown accustomed to being fugacious would create impressions that I would no longer escape.

Being a bit of a book hound and more of a smart ass than a smart kid, I almost always encountered the bullies early in the school year. Benton Grade School was no different. When, in early September, after refusing to bow down to the rule of three of the Eight Grade Ruling Class and subsequently getting the crap beat out of me in a field just within sight of the school, I found myself in the principle’s office, trying to explain that, while I certainly mouthed off to these thugs, I never threw a punch.

He looked over his desk, his meaty hands clasped together over his colossal gut, and grilled me. I was the new kid and he felt it was his duty to explain things to me the way one who keeps the peace by ignoring the realities of brigandage under his nose feels entitled to do. Because I was a cocky little fucker, I pointed out his role in the beating I had taken. I casually explained that these prison rapists in training existed because he upheld the system in which they thrived. And, as was my tendency when being yelled at, I was smirking a bit as I said it.

“Christ, Hall.” he intoned. “You are one smug piece of shit, aren’t you?”

That interaction started the year of him seeking me out for punishments as often as he could and, given my DNA as a rule-challenging little smarmy jackass, it was never hard to bust me for something. Often as not, I was deserving of some sort of sanction but it was the many times when I did not deserve the lumps that burned. The ember of unearned injustice grew hot and the result was an increase in my pretentious arrogance which, in turn, made things worse rather than better.

By the time I arrived at Circle High School in neighboring Towanda, Tom Restivo, the hulking, muscle-bound Italian Vice Principle already knew me from reputation alone. And he was going to have none of it. I decided to see how far I could go and, that fall at lunch, I grabbed a semi-clear plastic glass from the cafeteria, went into the boy’s restroom and fished out an unflushed turd from one of the toilets. I waited until class was changing and slipped into his office and left it on his desk and, like an early Jason Bourne, disappeared unseen.

Twenty minutes later, I heard his voice over the intercom in the Freshman English class I had just barely made it to. “Mr. Warren? Is a student named Don Hall in your class? If so, please give him a pass and send him to my office immediately.”

I shuffled into his office and he sat there, reading something, the glass with the butt nugget still sitting exactly where I left it.

“Sit down, Hall.”

I sat.

“Hall, what’s that on my desk?”

I couldn’t help the huge grin that split my face. “Looks like shit to me, sir.”

“You know I’m going to suspend you for this, right?”

I didn’t know how he caught me but caught I was so I just nodded as I giggled.

When I came back to school a few days later after my suspension, he called me back into his office.

“Hall, I’m going to give you some advice. You can take it or leave it, it doesn’t matter to me. I’m giving it to you because you didn’t do what every other kid would’ve done when I nailed you for the glass of shit. You didn’t try to weasel out of it. You knew you were beaten and accepted your punishment without question or excuse. I like that in a young man so I’m here to suggest something that may help you in your four years here.”

“So you’re giving me guidance because I was a conformist and accepted my suspension without complaint? Jeesh, I feel so privileged.”

He smiled a joyless smile. “Yeah, that’s your problem. That was your problem at Benton. You’re a smug little fucker. You’re smart and you know it and a lot of teachers around here are going to learn to hate your guts because of it. Four years is a long time, kid. I think you’ll be the kind of student who always challenges the rules but you will lose those fights a lot, even when you’re right, because no one wants a smart ass to win. I’ve seen it happen every year. Dial it down and you might survive high school. Or don’t, and we’ll see if high school survives you.”

Liberals dominate the entertainment industry, many of the most influential news sources and America’s universities. This means that people with progressive leanings are everywhere in the public eye — and are also on the college campuses attended by many people’s children or grandkids. These platforms come with a lot of power to express values, confer credibility and celebrity and start national conversations that others really can’t ignore.

But this makes liberals feel more powerful than they are. Or, more accurately, this kind of power is double-edged. Liberals often don’t realize how provocative or inflammatory they can be. In exercising their power, they regularly not only persuade and attract but also annoy and repel.

In fact, liberals may be more effective at causing resentment than in getting people to come their way. I’m not talking about the possibility that jokes at the 2011 correspondents’ association dinner may have pushed Mr. Trump to run for president to begin with. I mean that the “army of comedy” that Michael Moore thought would bring Mr. Trump down will instead be what builds him up in the minds of millions of voters.

SOURCE

Just the other day I bet my nephew $50.00 that Trump will not only not be impeached but will be our president past 2020. Not because anyone on the entire planet thinks realistically that he is anything but a political moron and overwhelming dickcheese but because there are more people who despise the smugness of the Holier Than Thou Army of Identity Fetishists who think nothing of branding anyone and everyone not in lockstep with their political ideology as racists, nazis, or monsters and self righteously adopting the Faux Moral Authority of the Republicans who impeached Bill Clinton for getting his knob polished in the Oval.

There is an argument to be made that few voted FOR Trump but many voted AGAINST us. How could 53% of white women voters vote for the pussy grabber? The easy answer is that they are racist. With the fifty or so recent examples of white women calling the police on black people doing nothing more than existing, that makes sense except for the fact that those viral videos of Starbucks racists are not statistically significant enough to brand millions of people so reductively. It is just as likely to suggest that an unreasoning hatred of the strident self-satisfied intellectual class of liberal, constantly lecturing from a claimed moral high ground, was their unspoken rationale.

Identity Fetishist Ricardo Gamboa wrote in May on his Faceborg:

“As radical activists we imagine ourselves as delegates, or representatives or a voice of our people. But the reality is we’re anomalies or minorities amongst our people. Most brown people aspire to wealth and institutional wealth, are pro-police and prison, think gentrification improves the neighborhood, etc. I think it’s probably more accurate for those of us that identity ourselves as radical activists to maybe consider that our biggest problem throughout time is that we don’t have a people. We’re always in the work of forging radical people.”

I think that sentiment an be expanded to the totality of the self proclaimed Progressive Wing of American politics. “Forging radical people” by throwing out labels and minimizing whole groups of people by skin color or complex choices is what got us here with the most accurate representation of the social media name calling reductionist eighth grader we could find sitting on a hemorrhoid ring with a fat finger poised over a Twitter account behind the Resolute desk. He sits there, in no small measure, because the rest of the country hates us more than they despise him.

I say “us” as if I am part of the extreme left, the hardcore faction of self righteous idiots who believe that identity politics is anything but the Politics of Narcissism. When I say “us” I mean to say that I didn’t take Restivo’s advice in high school.

I stayed smug. More so, I doubled down on it.

I occasionally go back and read my strident name calling rhetoric during the Bush Jr. years and can hear the voice of a Lydia Lucio, a Ricardo Gamboa, or a younger Donald Trump within the arrogant, pompous asshattery of self righteous rage. I then observe in hindsight the unreasoning obstacles forced in front of Obama and wonder how much of that Mitch McConnell driven resistance had to do with a simple disgust with us.

Like me in high school, we aren’t learning that that smugness doesn’t win elections it merely makes us feel warm and fuzzy as if our ineffectual resistance will be noted by future historians as somehow significant when figuring out how to persuade those out in the world of real, flesh and bone humans separate from the avatars of the digital world that perhaps we might be able to work together for the better of everyone.

I really hope I lose that $50.00 to my nephew but I’m not counting on it.