#i want at least stable +5 every day is it too much to ask

[thorerre]

if spring doesn’t come in the next two weeks i’m about to commit violence

[wintersoldiersoul]

Afterglow

A/N: Final part to the Tolerate it mini series!! Thank you all for the support on this series, I've had so much fun writing it and I hope you enjoy!

 It had been 5 days. 5 days since you were shot. 5 days since Bucky had seen your eyes, had heard your voice, and 5 days since he had gotten more than an hour of sleep at a time. He stayed next to you in your bed at the medbay where you lay unconscious. You had pulled through, for now at least. Bruce had performed emergency surgery on the jet on the way home to stabilize you until he and Helen could get you into an actual operating room.

You flatlined on the table. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor turned into one long tone as your life was whisked away. Steve had to hold Bucky back from breaking down the door of the O.R. as the horrible sound flowed to the other room. It took them 3 minutes to resuscitate you. The worst 3 minutes of Bucky’s entire life. Worse than any moment he had spent with HYDRA. But you fought. You pulled through the surgery. Now, you just had to wake up.

Bucky hadn’t left your side. Steve brought him food, knowing he wouldn’t take the time to go make himself something. After the third day, Helen brought him a bed to sleep in. Not that he was even sleeping anyway.

“How’s she doing?” Steve asked, walking in.

Bucky sighed and rubbed his eyes. “No change. She’s still stable but-” his voice broke. “What if she doesn’t wake up, Steve?” He looked into the eyes of his best friend.

Steve placed a supportive hand on his shoulder. “She’s gonna wake up. Your girl’s a fighter.”

“I don’t even know if she’s still my girl,” Bucky whispered. “God, I wasted so much time! I fucked everything up. This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault that she got hurt,” Steve responded.

“Yes it is! If we had still been together, maybe I could have convinced her to stay back on this mission. It was too dangerous.” 

Your eyes slowly started to open as he spoke but he didn’t notice since his head was in his hands.

“I could have stopped her. I could have protected her better,” he continued.

“Too…stubborn. Couldn’t have…stopped me,” you croaked. Your voice was raspy from 5 days of silence.

At the sound of your voice, Bucky immediately picked his head up. “Oh my god,” he grabbed your hand and kneeled at the side of your bed, stroking your hair. “Oh my god, Y/N,” fresh tears spilled down his cheeks.

“Bucky,” you whispered. “You look like shit.”

He laughed through his tears. So typical of you, of the girl he loved. Always sassy, even in crisis. He kissed your hand over and over again, still not believing that this was real and not a dream. 

The next day, you were released from the medbay but instructed to stay on bedrest for at least a week. You were just happy to be in the comfort of an actual bed. 

Bucky waited on you hand and foot as soon as you were brought back up to your room. “What do you need?” He asked, hands on his hips. He was ready to spring into action.

“Water, please. And maybe something to eat. Something small.”

He nodded and immediately left the room, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and a grilled cheese. “Here,” he said, setting the glass on the table and handing you the plate. “I made you a grilled cheese. I know it's your comfort food.”

“Thank you, Bucky,” you answered. An awkward silence fell over the two of you. Technically, the two of you weren’t back together. Your confessions of love as you were dying didn’t automatically mean that he was your boyfriend again.

“Y/N,” he finally said. “I was so scared when you were shot. You were bleeding out in my arms and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I thought I was gonna lose you for good. Do you remember what I said to you?”

You smiled softly. “That we were gonna get married and adopt a bunch of cats?” 

He nodded. “Yes. I meant every word I said. I want a life with you, beautiful. I want to get married in the Fall like you’ve always talked about and I want to get us a nice house and fill it with kids and animals and grow old with you. I wanna give you everything.”

You sat, looking at him. Nothing he said would ever erase the hurt he put you through. But despite yourself, you still loved him more than anything. You wanted that life with him. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He echoed. “Really? You’ll let me be yours again?” His eyes lit up.

“Yes, Bucky,” you smiled. “But you can never pull that shit again, do you understand me? I don’t need you to protect me from yourself. I’m a big girl. I’ll never need to be protected from you, I just need to love you. Fucked up past and all.” 

“Oh, angel,” he looked at you lovingly. “I know I’m never gonna be able to take back what I did. But I can spend the rest of our lives showering you with love and showing how much you mean to me. I promise I will never do that again. But you need to promise me something, too.” He took a deep breath. “Never almost die again, okay? I was so fucking scared.”

You blinked back tears at the pure emotion and love for him that you felt. “I promise.” 

The whole time you were healing, Bucky didn’t leave you alone. He got you whatever you needed, even buying a little bell for you to ring. He knew he’d regret that immediately but he wanted to make this misery a little bit better for you. You were obsessive with it, abusing the power he had given you.

“Bucky!” you would call, ringing the bell. 

He would sprint into your bedroom, flour on his face from the cookies he was baking for you. “Yes, honey?”

“Kiss me.” And he would. 

A few weeks later, you were able to leave the house for a couple hours at a time. You were in the passengers seat of the car with Bucky behind the wheel, driving you to an undisclosed location.

“Are you kidnapping me, Bucky Barnes?” You asked when he refused to give up the location you were headed.

“Patience, baby,” he smirked, keeping his eyes on the road.

20 minutes later, you pulled up to a large farmhouse. The outside was white and it had vines growing up the sides. It was the kind of place you had always dreamed of living.

“Bucky this house is beautiful but what are we doing here?” You laughed. 

“You like it?”

“It’s my dream house. I’ve always wanted to live in a place like this.”

He looked deep into your eyes. “I’m so glad, honey. Cause it’s ours.”

You blinked at him, not sure if you heard his words correctly. “Wait, what?”

“This is our home, beautiful. I bought it for us.” 

You were speechless. The house in front of you was the kind of place you had wanted to live in since you were a child. “Come on, I’ll give you a tour.” 

After he walked you around the interior, he led you out to the backyard. It was stunning. String lights hung from wooden beams, there was a fire pit and a wood fired pizza oven, and flowers perfectly landscaping the grass. Your eyes gazed over everything, not noticing Bucky shifting his position beside you.

You gasped as your eyes found their way back to him, kneeling on one knee.

“Y/n,” he began. “My beautiful angel. The love of my life. My reason for living. We’ve been through so much together. My past isn’t perfect. I’m far from perfect. I’ve done a lot of horrible things. But somewhere in my life, I must have done something good. Because I met you. And by some karmic intervention, you let me love you.” Tears overflowed from your eyes as he spoke. “Baby, will you marry me?”

You nodded your head enthusiastically. “Yes, of course, yes,” you cried. He slipped a ring onto your finger. “When did you even get this? You’ve been glued to my side since the mission.”

He smiled and kissed you passionately. “You wanna know something, baby? Remember when you heard Steve say that I had been looking at rings? Well, I wasn’t just looking,” he beamed. “I’ve been carrying this around in my pocket every day for months now. Just incase the opportunity ever presented itself.”

“Oh, Buck,” you gasped, hugging him tightly into you. “I love you, Bucky Barnes. My fiancé.”

“Ooh I like how that sounds,” he laughed. “I love you too. Forever.”

Taglist: @differenttyphoonwerewolf @jamesbuckybarnes1917 @learisa @mollygetssherlockcoffee @almosttoopizza @kandis-mom

@spookyparadisesheep @vicmc624 @aesthetic0cherryblossom @kjah97 @elizalexwil @scmoobly @wayward-gypsy @sarah1barnes

[all-risejd]

A New Judgment Chapter 4: Protective Men and Matching Energy (Poly Judgment Day Fic)

Written by Scarletxraine who can’t seem to remember to post to this godforsaken hellsite so has me post here for your enjoyment!

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

"I'll do it" She tells Triple H.

"Excellent. Don't tell anyone yet I want their genuine reactions on Friday. Im booking you a flight now. You will fly out tomorrow. Once you land I am having you brought to the performance center for your evaluation and to begin your training. There we will go over the plan. You will fly out separately on Thursday to be there for smackdown and will be in a separate hotel. Once you debut you will be paired with your stable mates." He explains,

"Sir, before I sign this I have one question." She states.

"Ask it?" He prompts

"Will I be expected to kiss or be physical for the storylines?" She asks her voice more timid than she would like it to be with her new boss.

"It is a strong possibility, Nessa. But if it doesn't seem natural, we will scrap it so if you aren't comfortable it can be negotiated. We'll go over the details when I see you Wednesday, tomorrow is just training and testing." He offers. She says goodbye and hangs up the phone and begins packing, knowing she has to pack for at least 2 weeks. She pauses as the phone rings.

Dom's name flashes across the screen, she lets it ring knowing she is at risk of slipping up and letting him know if she answers. She isn't at all surprised when the phone rings again and it is a different member of the Judgement Day, and one she doesn't expect. She answers the phone apprehensively,

"Hello."

"Hello, Luv, Dom Dom is freaking out because you won't answer him." Finn's voice comes through and Nessa starts biting her thumbnail.

"I just can't talk to him right now, he went from being a ghost to literally blowing up my phone every day. It's too much, I need air, I need to think, to breathe." She explains, pacing across the room trying to keep from saying what she can't.

"Look he asked me to call and I am sorry he is so overbearing with this. I'll have a talk with him. But luv." He says, trying to make sure he has her attention.

"Yeah,"

"He still cares deeply for you and wants to earn your forgiveness. He wants you to be a part of his life even as just a friend. He just doesn't know how to communicate that without smothering you."

"Thanks, Finn, you know I wouldn't peg you as the voice of reason." She compliments

"Darlin, you could peg me as anything you want!" He responds and Nessa can't say anything besides the squeak of air that just left her. "Calm down luv I'm just joking, you are too easy to rile up", His accent seems thicker as he speaks.

"You all are going to be the death of me, I just know it." She finally manages to choke out and Finn laughs.

"Look, we hope you enjoyed the show and also hope you decide to join us. If not just keep in touch, for Dom's sake." He asks with true concern in his voice which makes Nessa nod in agreement even though he can't see it. "Are you nodding even though I can't see it?" He asks, letting out a laugh again.

"Uh yeah, I was, sorry."

"It's ok, look I'm gonna go so we can get some rest, we have an early flight out tomorrow and we are staying at Dom's place just giving you fair warning. I'll keep him from going to your place so you can have your space." He promises and Nessa smiles, some of the anxiety leaving her body.

"Thank you, Finn, that is really sweet."

"No problem princess, have a good night." He hangs up the phone and Nessa is thankful for what he promised even though she won't be home. She tosses her phone on the bed and continues packing wondering what mess Rey has gotten her into. Her alarm goes off early in the morning and she continues to lay in bed, scrolling through her unread messages from the day before.

From Dom Dom-

Monday 8:45 am

I'm sorry mi cileto I can't say I'm sorry enough for what I did. There is no excuse.

Monday 9:30 am

Are you ok? I haven't heard from you since yesterday.

Monday 10 am

Nessa I am starting to get worried.

Monday 11am

Mi sol, I want to make sure you are ok and to set up a time to talk. You deserve to know why I did what I did. I want to know what to do to make things right and at least be your friend.

Monday 11:30 am

I deserve this

Monday 12pm

Mi vida, you are probably at work and I don't know why I didn't think about that, I am sorry for the constant messages. I'll try again when you are supposed to be off work.

From- tall dark and broody

Monday 11:30 am

Chiqui I'm sorry Dom Dom is blowing up your phone, I took care of it. Enjoy.

From Dom Dom

Monday 7pm

Enjoy the show Reinita, just give me a chance to earn your forgiveness, please.

Nessa rolls her eyes and decides to leave him on read a taste of what he did to her, she is going to see him later that week anyway and she will hear him out then. Until then he can suffer. She knows Finn has her back on this. She notices she has some time to kill before she has to leave for the airport, so she decides to call Rhea

"Good Morning Doll, to what do I owe this honor?" she asks, letting out a Yawn.

"Sorry if I woke you Demi, but I told Finn and I am going to tell you. I need space, I need time. Dom is blowing up my phone and I need space to think. He wants me to forgive him and I will, I have, but I need space and he needs to earn my trust."

"Oh sweetpea, of course, I'll make sure he gives you that space. Do you need that from all of us? If so, we will do that too. We don't want to pressure you." Rhea agrees.

"Thank you, and no you guys don't blow up my phone and call me at work" Nessa sighs.

"Well, that's good then. We are about to head to the airport. I'm assuming Finn told you we are staying with Dom Dom this week. Maybe we can meet up for lunch just as friends, no pressure." Rhea asks.

"Uh, not this time Demi. I'm not quite ready, my head is all over the place but next time I promise ok?" Nessa lies trying to keep her ass covered so she doesn't get in trouble. She can hear Rhea's smile drop as she responds.

"Oh ok. I'm sorry. No, yeah, I'll let you know next time we are in town. Talk to you later"

"No No Demi It's not like that!" She panics hoping Rhea doesn't hang up.

"It's fine really Nes." Comes Rhea's voice still clearly disappointed.

"No really, I'm not going to be in town when you are here."

"Why?" Rhea asks, sounding a little less disappointed. Nessa doesn't answer, however. "Why won't you be in town? Don't you have to work?..." She trails off at the end. It takes her a moment but the answer clicks in her head. "Oh my god", She whispers, "No fucking way doll!"

"Shhhh, I had no choice, all the calls got me in trouble and the meddling put a target on my back." Nessa tries to shush her and continues, "It is supposed to be a secret to get genuine reactions so please don't spill to the rest of them. Especially Dom. After WrestleMania, he can't always control his expressions." She begs glad at least she didn't hurt her feelings.

"Of course, our little secret sweetheart. I gotta go, the boys are coming" she quickly ends the call.

____________________________________________________________________

Rhea hangs up the phone and quickly slides it in her pocket. Dom walks up and kisses her cheek.

"Who was that Mami?"

"My Mum checking up on me" She answers immediately covering for Nessa.

"Then what is your little secret," Damien asks, grabbing Rhea's bag from her hand and handing it over to Finn.

"She is going to get ice cream without my dad because she needs "me" time" Finn scoffs not believing it but doesn't question it further, Dominik accepts the excuse immediately while Damien is also skeptical and pulls out his phone.

_____________________________________________________________

Nessa starts her car as she gets a text message and decides to open it before driving off.

From- Tall Dark and Broody

"Am I going to see your gorgeous face on Friday Mamita?"

Nessa knows no answer will mean yes again if she doesn't answer and cover so she answers,

"No, I have a shift up until the show starts. I'll be late tuning in, but I look forward to seeing what you guys will do. Stay safe and keep Dom safe please." She asks hoping he buys it.

"Of course Mariposa, you too. Don't let those human Petri dishes get you sick, we want you healthy and happy."

Nessa rolls her eyes and doesn't respond to that and starts her drive to the airport knowing Olivia is going to pick her car up.

Nessa gets back to her hotel room near midnight, walking with a slight limp, sore from all the tests they put her through and her training. She checks her phone for the first time in hours and feels bad about some of the missed messages.

She responds to Olivia and Rhea and shoots a quick generic response to the rest, apologizing saying she was kept late at work which isn't exactly a lie.

"Oh my god how do you do this all the time?" Nessa complains to Rhea

"You get used to it eventually, are you ok?" Rhea answers,

"Yes, just sore. I passed the necessary tests and had my first training session. I have to do it again tomorrow and fly out Thursday. Also, I think I've been had. Luis and Finn have texted me asking if I am going to be there Friday. I told them I am working a later shift but I don't think they believe me. I don't want to get in trouble if they don't seem surprised when I show up." She answers, ranting. Rhea must be able to tell she is spiraling because her phone starts to ring.

"Hey." She groans.

"They may be suspicious but they don't know, they won't give you up. Trust me you won't get in trouble. He is looking more for Dom Dom's reaction anyway. So calm down, you got this." Rhea comforts her.

"If you are sure. Thank you for listening." "Anytime Nes, now tell me what story he wants to go for." She pries.

"Oh no that is all you are getting, I'm going to bed, I have another long day tomorrow then a flight to catch Thursday to make sure I am in town for the show. Goodnight Demi." Nessa avoids the question, not having processed what she was told enough to explain.

Friday morning she is awoken by her phone ringing before her alarm was set to go off. Without thinking or checking the caller id she answers it.

"Finally, Mi Corazon I have been so worried." He sighs in relief and something in Nessa snaps, she is not awake enough to control her mouth.

"You weren't worried when you ghosted me, Dominik. I'm just doing the same to you. I need space and time to think I know Finn has told you. You want my forgiveness, don't smother me, you can't go from nothing to the complete opposite and blow up my phone." She throws her arm over her eyes and continues. "And I'm not your heart or any of the other nicknames to you anymore, I am Nessa or Nes. You don't have that right anymore. You lost it when you dumped me over text and then proceed to ghost me for half a year." There is silence on the other end to the point where she thinks he hung up until she hears him take a shaky breath.

"I have no excuse for what I did Nes. I want to make it right. If you want space you got it. Just tell me what else to do." He tells her, his voice softer than she has ever heard it and her heart aches for him.

"Dom you are clearly trying and for that, I give you credit, you are working to it. And when I say space I don't mean go ghost again. Just not so much ok please." She explains as her alarm starts going off on her phone.

"Oh, I'm sorry for waking you, I know you have to work late. Hopefully, you can catch some of the show tonight." He sounds like guilt is filling him.

"It's ok Dom, some of the kids will have it on in their room so I'll be able to catch some of it. Kill it out there for me ok?" She offers the small peace offering feeling bad at how harsh she was a few minutes earlier.

"Look when we are back in town I want to give you an explanation. You deserve that much, could we meet up for lunch, you choose where." He asks, stopping her from hanging up. She chews on her lip for a moment before answering,

"Yeah, that would be fine Dom. I'll see you around." She ends the call and groans as she gets out of bed and gets dressed and grabs her bag ready for her ride to the arena.

___________________________________________________________________

Ness is pacing in the backstage office they have her in, having just changed into the clothes they picked out of her suitcase so she would match the Judgement Day to hammer home where her allegiances are. She is pulled out of her thoughts by a knock on the door and a voice on the other side.

"Are you decent?" Comes the voice of Triple H.

"Uh yeah come in," She stutters, her nerves making her hands shake.

"How are you doing, nervous?" He chuckles seeing her wring her hands in an attempt to self-soothe.

"Yeah actually, any advice?"

"Just be yourself. You know what to do and say. For all promos. Are you comfortable with the physicality of the plan? Did you practice enough this week?" He asks wanting to make sure she is going to be safe.

"Yes, I am fine with it."

"Good, you are going to be escorted to your place in the crowd so you can get noticed at your queue.. And once again welcome to the family" He holds out his hand to shake and she meets it feeling better from their talk.

She follows the employee Triple H brought to escort her to her seat, surprised at how fast he is making her move and the fact that she sees no superstars. It only takes a few minutes before she is in her seat a guard on either side of her, the crowd starting to roll in. She is shocked again by how many fans are noticing her as they fill in the seats around her. They are whispering to each other before smiling at her and waving. She sheepishly waves back, not used to the attention.

The show eventually starts, with Nessa trying to avoid attention and keep her head down as much as possible so an accidental camera shot can't give her away to the Judgment Day backstage. Eventually, Triple H's music starts and Nessa sighs in relief, all the anxious energy building up and she gulps trying to keep her mouth from drying out. She only half pays attention to what he says as he talks about the future and the draft coming up. Soon enough he introduces The Judgment Day and steps out of the ring as their music starts. Nessa stands up with the crowd which is a mix of cheers and boos.

She watches as Triple H shakes each member of The Judgement Day's hand before disappearing backstage. She is thankful the crowd remained on their feet so this next part would be easier for her. She makes her way to the barricade as they enter the ring and grab mics. She rests her hands on the barricade ignoring the people patting her shoulder and cheering as Rhea tells everybody to rise for her.

Nessa chuckles to herself the boys haven't noticed her yet. Rhea finishes speaking and Nessa knows that Finn is next talking about his match with Edge. How he is still standing and Edge is nowhere to be seen. It is finally Dom's turn he raises the mic to his mouth and the crowd boos so loud she can barely hear what he is saying so he pauses until they stop so he can try again.

"I decided not to show aggression towards my dad." The crowd boos more so Nessa takes the opportunity. She has the guard with her help her onto the barricade where she sits swinging her legs until the people in the ring notice her, the people behind her laugh while the rest of the crowd Boo's Dominik as he tries to talk.

"Hey we got all night!" Finn addresses the crowd looking around at them. He is the first to notice Nessa sitting on the barricade and he smacks Damien's shoulder pointing her out as Dom tries to speak again.

"I'll stand here all night!" Dom yells into the Mic and Nessa can still barely hear him so she exaggeratingly cups her ear smirking. The crowd quiets down again and she sees that Dom notices her on the barricade, his eyes wide and mouth open in shock. Rhea is doubled over laughing seeing Nessa wearing the She's My Mami t-shirt cut how she normally wears it like a sports bra, a purple bandana tied to her wrist.

Damien gestures for Nessa to join them in the ring, the crowd cheering wondering what is going to come next. She hops off the barricade and up the steel steps. Both Dominik and Damien sit on the middle rope and push up the top rope to create an easier opening for Nessa to get in the ring. She pauses on the apron unsure of which way to face when entering the ring. She looks between Dominik and Damien and chooses to face Damien, knowing if she looked at Dominik she might stumble. She locks eyes with Damien and the corners of his lips twitch like he is trying to suppress a smile. Nessa doesn't hide hers as she stands up in the ring. Damien offers his arm again and leads her over to stand by Rhea as Dom tries to speak again over the crowd chanting

"You suck"

"You know who sucks. A father who tells you to break up with the woman you love. A father who lays his hands on his only son. I held back at Wrestlemania. I pulled my punches because I knew at the end of the day, I could not hurt my own father. Especially in front of Mamita, who loves him like a father. I love my dad. I couldn't hurt him even though he caused me to hurt such a lovely woman. But I can't say the same for him. He brought my Mamita to hurt me, to manipulate me and it hurt her. Because when I stood in front of him I could see the anger in his eyes." He continues on in Spanish complaining about what kind of father spanks his son on tv and switches back to English and holds an arm out to Nessa. Nessa looks to Rhea who nods in permission, so she walks over and smiles as he wraps his arm around her shoulders. "But I understand where the lines are drawn dad and as far as we are concerned. You and the rest of my family can go to hell and take Bad Bunny and the rest of your little friends with you." He whispers in Nessa's ear as the crowd continues to boo. "Thank you" He kisses her temple.

Together they watch as the replay shows on the titantron and Rhea laughs as Bunny goes through the table. Nessa can't help but laugh as well, Rhea's joy being contagious. Rhea lifts the mic to her mouth again addressing Nessa, "Good choice mini me"

Instead of saying anything Nessa instead mimics Rhea and sticks out her tongue and Rhea matches the energy to cheers from the crowd. Damien's deep chuckle sends shivers down Nessa's spine before he starts speaking and she doesn't take her eyes off him as directed.

As soon as he is finished speaking Rey's music comes on and the match is announced. Nessa steps out of Dominik's arms and takes a step back as the LWO enters the ring. Rey steps towards Nessa to talk to her like he promised on Raw, only for Rhea and Dominik to step in front of her. Damien pulls her behind him and Finn as well. Keeping his hand on her wrist.

After a tense minute, Damien turns to Nessa, "Come, Mamita, Let's get you away from them so the match can start." He gently guides her to the ropes where Finn is already on the other side. Damien opens the ropes for her again and she gets out and Finn holds his hand out to help her down the stairs. Rhea jumps out of the ring and stands by Nessa and the match begins.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Not going to reblog it in order to respond, but lets talk about piracy, specifically of books.

It's a fraught discussion. Many people take the black/white stance on it. I personally do not pirate, because I know the cost to authors. If piracy had been a thing in the xtian cult I grew up in, I probably would have. We were an hour away from the closest library. It wasn't safe for me to read the queer books I needed.

I've been poor enough (am now) where I can't afford books. I've been far enough away from a library that it wasn't a viable option. My library really doesn't have the books I want to read. I've requested them, but they haven't shown up. Some countries don't even have libraries. Some people can't read the works they want to because of external pressures.

There's more to it than good/bad.

Firstly, the most likely person to pirate a book is a cis, white, western male who makes 70k or more/year. That's just sheer entitlement and yes, it's wrong. Period.

But what about the poor people, the queer people who don't dare check out the queer books they need? What about, what about, what about... I get it. I really really do.

I'm an author whose books are pirated a lot. If I had a nickel/5 cents for every copy of my work that's been pirated, I wouldn't be edging on homelessness right now.

Some truths.

1. Most authors aren't wealthy. Most aren't even financially stable. Like any industry, there's the golden show ponies that make ridiculous amounts of money. Then there's the rest of us, who, if we're lucky, make 10k a year on our books. (I never have.)

2. It takes anywhere between 8 weeks of ridiculously long days to actual years to write a book. And these are niche, hard to acquire skills. Not everyone can write. I think almost anyone can learn how to write well, but it’s not inborn, and most people don't dedicate themselves to it. These are skills we've had to learn. So a person who pirates is also taking that from the author too.

3. Writing isn't easy. It's blood, sweat, tears, and so much time away from the people who love us to make that book. If there's no reward for us in it, why would we continue publishing? I wrote for myself far longer than I have for publication. People tell me I'm a great writer. If there's nothing in it for me beyond the joy of writing, why should I add the extra work of making my stories publishable? And there's sooooo much extra work and hours that go into that.

4. Piracy reduces the chance that that author can keep writing. It really does. We have to eat and pay bills like anyone else. Every single piece of great art we, as a species, have comes from people who had a place to live, money for supplies, and both time and energy to create. If you're living in poverty, like me, it can be nigh impossible to create. So you're taking that too. If you love an author's work, you're making it less likely they can either finish the series you've pirated books from, or even write at all.

5. Boycotting Amazon doesn't hurt Amazon, but it sure as hell hurts authors.

6. If you are in a position where piracy is your only option... email the author, their publicist, or their publisher and request a review e-copy. We'll usually send it in hopes of a review. It's likely to be cleaner and more readable than any pirated copy. Plus, it's legal.

7. If you have to pirate, at least have the basic decency to do something for the author in return. That can be a lot of things. Leaving a review at any site you can access that accepts reviews is probably one of the best. Reviews really do sell books for us. Good or bad reviews, it doesn't matter. Obviously, positive is better, but even a negative review can prevent another negative review by warning people of things they might not enjoy in the work.

Send them an email if you loved it. Writing is a lonely profession, and fan mail has absolutely kept me writing on hard days. It means a lot to get positive fan mail. (I've never even heard of an author who has asked where you got the book.)

Drop a dollar into their Kofi if you can. Or become a patron. Especially if you can afford it and love our work, you can help us keep writing that way too. If my patron were filled to the point where I could afford to write more, I could be easily getting 3 books out a year vs the 1 every couple of years I'm currently managing to do. And my books are free for my patrons.

Fan art can also be a nice thing to receive.

Important! Talk about our books with anyone who might possibly be interested (if it's safe for you to do so) word of mouth is still the best advertising there is. Mention them on your social media too.

8. Piracy is very far away from a victimless crime. You are (whatever your reasons) harming the author who wrote the book. Even if you weren't going to buy it, you're still encouraging people to rip the books and make them available illicitly.

9. I did mention most of us will send a copy out to those who ask for one, right? Especially if we're indie with little to no marketing budget. We're hoping you'll review it, but there aren't any reviews police. Most authors who are decent people will just send it and hope. (I've been harassed for reviewing a book before, so I'd be remiss if I didn't say there wasn't a risk of the author asking you about the review. It's considered incredibly rude to do so in publishing circles, but there's still some authors who will. Use a throw away email.)

10. Sign up for Netgalley and Edelweiss. These are sites where publishers put books up for requests for reviews. You request the book, (for free unless something has changed recently) then, if you get it, you're supposed to review it. But again, there's no review police. (Please do review if you can.)

11. If you do have access to a library, you can ask them to order it. A lot of the time they will. And libraries have to pay the author/publisher to license the work, so we get paid by libraries too. You're helping an author by using a library, not harming them.

12. Lastly, check your entitlement. The world we currently live in doesn't value art (and writing is art) enough to pay a living wage for it. If you want art, someone has to pay us to do it, because otherwise we can't pay the power bill. Or any other bills. Writing shouldn't be the sole province of the wealthy and well off. Yet, I've seen so many writers stop writing because they just can't afford to. I'm there right now. If you want a world where authors can afford to give our work away for free, start voting for things like social programs and UBI. So that we can create art without worrying about the bills.

I'll probably think of more later, but those are the basics.

Don't bother arguing with me. You know it's wrong to pirate. It's, as noted, something that some people need to do because of poverty or lack of access or, or, or. Unless it's a disability issue, just wanting the e-copy vs the paper copy your library has isn't enough of an excuse. You can email the author or get it legally from a reviewing site. And if you're one of the well off folks who pirate? Fuck you. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.

You do not have the right to steal from authors for any reason, much less your convenience. Talk about privilege and entitlement.

There are extenuating circumstances, and there are also non-piracy ways to get books.

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

I don't know if this is asking too much (if so, I'm sorry) but could you write at least one shot from Paz Lives AU? About family daily life. Or Cabin in the Woods with Hunter, Spider and the twins? I love the dynamics you described and in the form of a short story it would be a masterpiece haha. But I also don't want to distract you too much from the original Canina or seem like Im asking for something all the time in an annoying form

Your not annoying me at all. And if I put Cabin on pause to write a oneshot then that's my choice, I'm fully capable of saying "I like that idea, I'll write it after Cabin."

I don't know if I'll ever write a Paz lives modern Au oneshot. I do have more of those bullet point thoughts written out that I just haven't posted yet but that might be as far as I go with that au. Same with the idea of Cabin with the twins. I like the idea in concept but I don't think I'll take in further then bullet point ideas. That being said I've got a lot of idea's for that au so allow me to share those now

So same sequence of events as Cabin, Paz is killed by a drunk driver while she's pregnant, only this time she's expecting twins and is already a mother to 5 year old Spider and 2 year old Hunter. the twins were able to be saved, Quaritch goes to jail for trying to kill Paz's killer, and all the siblings end up in foster care.

I was reading articles on why siblings are separated in the foster system for another ask and there are a few different reasons but in this case it would be 1. lack of resources. there are just too many of them and no one willing to take in four kids all at once. 2. Spider is of course traumatized from the sudden loss of both his parents and as a result gets super protective of his siblings, to a point where he makes it almost impossible for any adult to take care of any of them. 3. age. Spider is the only one who would be able to remember his siblings. the others are too little to be really bonded to each other. Because of all this it's decided that it'll be best if the kids are separated. The younger kids will all go to stable homes and Spider can get one on one help to process the loss of his family.

Spider never accepts it though, growing bitter at a very young age, hating and distrusting all the adults tasked with caring for him.

Remember in the Cabin prologue when Quaritch went to visit Spider in his group home? That happens here too only instead Spider is 7 and is over joyed to see his dad, begging him to take him away. Quaritch refuses, saying that he needs to get him and his siblings back legally but Norm still catches him and accuses Quaritch of trying to kidnap Spider. This too all plays out like in Cabin with Quaritch being dubbed mentally unstable and having his parental rights terminated.

After this incident though Spider starts running away from his foster homes. He's not specifically trying to get back to his dad, he just really wants out. He's found and brought back every time but as he gets older he gets better at it. His record is going 16 days without being found. He was 11 at the time.

When Spider is 12 he get's placed with the McCosker's

Nash McCosker is an abusive ass hole who screams at and beats Spider for the smallest offense. He threatens Spider with even worse if he tries to tell anyone about it.

So in the middle of the night Spider packs up his backpack and runs

It's around four in the morning, he's exhausted, it feeling like his lungs could burst he's been running for so long and all he wants is to lay down for a little bit, but he knows he can't. He only has two more hours before someone notices that's he's gone. So he forces himself to keep going

But then a car pulls up, blocking his path. The window rolls down, reveling his dad. "get in." he commands

Spider is stunned. A mix of emotions floods him. Shock, anger, grief. He hasn't seen his father since that day at the group home, years ago now. He had said he was trying to get him back. instead he seemed to have abandoned him.

Seeing no other options though Spider gets into his dad's car.

His heart breaks when they pull up to their old family home, now standing like a memorial of everything they've lost.

The moment they get inside Spider turns on his father, "Why did you leave me! You said you where trying to get me back! to get use all back! What the hell happened to that!"

Quaritch does his best to calm his son, explaining everything, that he tried to get them back the legal way but the courts where rigged against him and terminated his parental rights. That he's been watching over all of his kids but particularly Spider since his living situation is the worst out of all of the siblings.

He explains that now that Spider is a know run away he can just stay with him, living in their old home. No one will suspect Quaritch of kidnapping. If the cops come by looking for Spider he can hide in the attic until they leave. In enough time the search will be dropped and they can live peacefully

"but what about my siblings? how can we get them back?" Spider askes innocently.

"don't you worry about that right now. Papa's got a plan. For right now I'm more concerned about you. We'll focus on your siblings once your in the clear."

Spider's a nervous wreak the first few weeks of living with his dad again.

because this is the best he's had it since before his mom died and he's terrified that'll all be ripped away again.

His dad is just as paranoid listening to a police scanner every second of the day.

The police showed up with a search warrant after a month. Spider was safely tucked away in the attic long before they got there.

The entrance to the attic is in a closet on the second floor. it's easy to miss if you don't know where to look. It's completely un detectable after Quaritch hides it with mountains of junk typical for a hallway closet.

the police search the whole house and the surrounding area. They search that closet to. But they never find the attic.

Shortly after the search is called off. Miles "Spider" Socorro is just gone, with no hope of ever finding him.

Father and son are thrilled. they settle into a semblance of a life together. Spider can never really leave the house. His dad homeschools him, but it's no replacement for the social interactions he'd have at a real school. The isolation only makes the absence of his siblings hurt all the more.

It took his father months to even get Spider to go upstairs. The kid broke down when he saw his old room, still exactly how it had been when he'd been taken away. No matter how much time passed he could never bring himself to venture further down the hall. Every time he so much as glanced at the shut doors of his siblings abandoned bedrooms his heart ached.

It took time, but his dad helped him redo his old bedroom, turning it into something befitting of a preteen.

After six months of living with each other Quaritch took Spider out to "visit" his siblings

Hunter was 10 at the time. He was at school, quietly reading on the playground, his face so closely pressed into the book, his nose was touching it's binding, when a bully approached slapping the book from his hand. His father had to physically restrain Spider so he didn't go over there and kick the other kids ass.

Seeing Gunner and Ada was less eventful. The twins where 7 going on 8 at the time. Gunner was playing in a soccer game, Ada was on the side lines with her moms pretending she was a "witch princess" making a potion out of dirt, leaves, and rocks. Spider couldn't help but laugh at his little sister and cheer for his little brother every time he got the ball.

Quaritch and Spider go to spy on his sibling every couple of weeks.

Except in the summer. In the summer they go on a cross country road tip to stay in a cabin high up in the mountains. Spider loves the change in scenery but it still makes him a little sad. Because his father actually built the cabin himself for the entire family. So just like back home, there were three extra bedrooms, awaiting kids that would never live there.

I'm going to continued this in a part 2 so look out for that. Hope you enjoyed💞

[cantbelieveyouregone]

Level 65 - 5 Years, 5 Months On Testosterone

Well, it's been a hell of a long time since I last did this. Almost like a pandemic happened and made me forget because there were slightly more pressing matters at hand. But it's just past trans day of visibility, so figured I should provide some sort of update here.

First big change since you last saw me do this is that I got top surgery. I'm now about two and a bit years past when it happened, and it wasn't completely smooth sailing. Surgery itself went fine, but I ended up having some of my stitching come out during recovery. That's, like, a whole other story, though. It could take up several paragraphs here. I got the periareolar one done, with my chest being just on the borderline of being too big for it, but I begged them to let me have that one, as it'd always been my preferred one if possible.

I'm still trying to get on the waiting list for bottom surgery, but even trying to get through to the GIC to make progress is a nightmare right now. I don't help my case by being someone who absolutely despises making phone calls, so I only try getting in touch by email. I've asked to be put on the list, twice, but I have not received any confirmation if it's happened. Really wish that I wasn't dependent on this whole GIC system, but here we are.

Besides that, in terms of testosterone changes, things have been pretty stable for a while now. My voice hasn't gotten much deeper for like a good couple years. I am a hairy boy - saw it coming, thanks to having beheld my dad swimming, and seeing that we were three for three in having facial hair among my grandfathers and dad as well.

I am still a very physically weak man. Exercise took a backseat for a lot of the lockdown period of the pandemic, as well as me doing very little exercise post-surgery on surgeon's orders. I've really only started picking it up again relatively recently, after moving out of the house I always take these selfies in (my old room - now my dad's work from home office - still has a mirror in it). I can do only about 15 push-ups before I have to stop for a breather, as my endurance has remained atrocious. I managed to do ten bicep curls in a row per arm with dumbbells weighing 8.5kg each, but I truly just reached that point. I can do like 100 sit ups on a workout bench or 50 on the floor in mostly one go, though. And I can do a plank for like two and a half minutes on a good day. So, y'know, I'm not in terrible shape, but I could be better. I want to do bouldering more regularly, but that requires breaking my existing routine to do so, so I find it hard to go very often. At least me and my flatmate walk in to work some days.

I have gained a noticeable amount of weight, compared to my last update, but that's honestly more to do with the fact that I moved out and got a job. My flatmate works at the same place I do, so we go to work at the same time. So I actually eat breakfast every day because they'd quickly notice if I didn't. Lunch is covered by our work, but it's Deliveroo from select places, so it's not the healthiest stuff we have as options. And dinner, again, flatmate and I get back at the same time and make dinner together most nights. Might not seem like a big deal, but before I had a job and moved out, I regularly slept in and didn't have a proper meal until dinner time. So funnily enough, I'm not surprised jumping from one meal a day to three has caused weight gain.

My mental health is an open question as always. I've described myself as "one thing going wrong away from a mental breakdown", and I still think that's accurate. I'm still on meds for anxiety and depression, and I still feel noticeable effects when I forget to take them. I don't think they're going away any time soon. Top surgery has helped with some of the mental health stuff, since it's one less thing for me to worry about on a daily basis, but... y'know, bottom dysphoria still exists, and it's bad. I did make some friends during university which helped to make things tolerable when I definitely otherwise would've been alone, since I pushed a lot of my high school friends away after I dropped out. I'm not in a relationship, and not only do I have limited desire to be until I learn how to take care of myself better, but I still have no idea what anyone would see in me.

I never know how to end these things. I don't know when I'll next remember to actually do one of these, because it's been a long-ass time since I did it before. Maybe I'll do a more detailed update about my top surgery experience. Maybe the folks that follow me ain't here for this, but if my post makes it across the dashboard or in the search of another person going through it, maybe it'll be helpful.

It's kind of why I started doing this in the first place.

[anexperimentallife]

Most of you already know the deal, but a few people have asked why we don't go back to the states now that El can finally travel.

And it's like... fam, we appreciate the concern, but even ignoring all the other factors and focusing on finances alone, we can't. I thought we had been clear about that every step of the way, but perhaps not clear enough. We could not afford to go back to the states even if we wanted to.

One of the reasons I moved to the Philippines is that I'm disabled, and trying to live off of the pittance that the US pays for disability. The cost of living here is about 1/5 what it is in the US on the average, so it's actually possible for a family of three to live here on an amount that wouldn't support ONE person in the US.

The unplanned, unpredictable, and unlikely to recur expenses were what got us. The bureaucratic/legal snafu with our daughter's status, in conjunction with lockdown, that kept us paying huge visa overstay fees (because the way travel restrictions have at times changed literally overnight, if Zoey and I had left for a day to reset our visas, there was no guarantee we'd be able to come back to our daughter--who was not allowed to travel until her status was sorted, which we had to be here for) and medical bills.

If there had been no errors on El's birth certificate (which is what led to all the bureaucratic hassle that took over a year to resolve), and if I hadn't nearly died from COVID (twice), had to be on oxygen for a month, required surgery, if Zoey amd I hadn't both had to be hospitalized, if there'd been no complications with El's birth, etc., and if there had been no national lockdown, we'd have been fine financially. Instead of enduring nearly two years of nightmare, I'd have paid a few months of overstay fees while we waited for El's paperwork, Zoey amd El wouldn't have had to pay anything but normal visa fees, and we'd have traveled out and back as a family to reset.

But as it is, we're over 14K in debt due to El's situation and medical costs, which is going to be difficult to pay off even with the low cost of living here, and moving back to the US would put us thousands more in debt.

Then there's trying to survive in the US with our situation.

Say we went back anyway, that by some miracle we got all our current debt paid off and got set up in a modest little 2br, and that @thesurestthing got a job working outside the home; I'm on disability because I'm--you guessed it--disabled.

Some days I'm able to care for myself and El just fine, but other days I will wreck myself if I try to do too much, especially now that long covid has screwed my health so much, so Zoey does far more than her share. If she had to be gone for nine hours a day, we'd need on-call home help, which would likely cost most of what Zoey would be able to earn anyway.

When I talk about the cost of living, here are some examples: A doctor's visit here, without insurance, costs around ten bucks. We can have fresh fruit and vegetables delivered to our door from the wet market for less than half of the US supermarket price (and the delivery fee is less than what it would cost us to go there in person). A three-bedroom apartment (with admittedly fewer amenities than US apartments) in a gated complex can be had for under 400 dollars a month in a tourist city like Baguio. A taxi ride from one side of Baguio to the other is about two dollars. The bus is less than a quarter. I bought roughly nine months of my pain, heart, eye, allergy, and all my other meds, for around eighty bucks. The oxygen machine cost around a thousand bucks for a whole month.

Now, if someone knows of a stable, secure fiction writing job (because writing fiction is something I'm starting to be able to do again now that me eye is healing at least a little bit) that pays enough for a family of three to live on in the US, would let me work on the basis of when I can deliver (because I might go a couple of days not being able to write and make it up in one long marathon session), provides full medical, dental, and vision coverage with low copays, low deductibles, with a low limit in our if pocket expensss and no upper limit to what they'll pay, please let me know.

Even then, though, even if we could relocate, we've made a home for ourselves here. The Philippines has its problems, yes, and we may relocate eventually, but overall we feel like staying out of the US is the best for all three of us, so even if we left the Philippines, we'd try to stay out of the US. (I don't want my daughter to die in a school shooting, for one thing.)

[golden-----hour]

144

8/5/24

I think I need to have better boundaries between what is poetry and what is journal so that I can freely write without the impending sense that I will gut this for any sort of wisdom or enlightenment. I really haven't. Sometimes I'll go back through them and stumble onto past realizations and feel like they are usable. So I am announcing nothing comes from this except the end of a night ticked on oblivion's wall.

Observations

-Bright car lights behind me making it impossible to drive

-how I am bored with that and bored with that with that

-how this spacing is uneven so I will stop. I notice how I left my German tote bag in Vic's dirty basement- it has my douche and lube. Whenever I am in the basement I try to notice a few new things. This time I saw a new piece of workout equipment, TV remote, clothes on bathroom floor. I asked him if he knew what language was spoken in Austria because I am an asshole. I liked that.

I did a lot of poppers. I mostly am attached to the pleasure of sex and not the love of it. With Lorenz, the poppers didn't do that much because I loved him and love is the most boring intensity I think but it lasts the longest and requires the most maintenance when done correctly. He asked if I wanted the poppers and I said no. I wish the drug had a more serious name so that it could maybe feel different. I know at least not to take it. I just need sex like that once a week forever and I'll be fine. I wonder what I could focus on without it, or my phone too. So what?

I almost killed a small rabbit and a possum. I didn't. (I can or literally I am capable.) I like the Saw Mill River Parkway and I like the Taconic and the Sprain. They are dark rivers in my head. I hear calling in the night.

I am resisting Grindr. I left the douche and the lube in the basement and now I am thinking- what if when I try to have sex every other day of the week? Then I can't try until Wednesday when I maybe pick the bag up, or Friday. I will not try to have sex until Thursday then because I had some today. Which means I will be more conscious on Grindr. Friday.

Konner starts to sing because he hears me sing and is envious of me wholly. He doesn't know what I've survived or what plagues me. I will never share music with him because he would nitpick each minutia in order to feel big, which would hamper the whole effort to share. I do feel curious about it. He is curious about me and slightly bothered that I don't engage with him more. All the teachers here bother me. Also reminder do not think tomorrow, just do until 5:20. Don't think.

I talked to Ashley on the phone. I didn't really care that much. She wants to "make art" but hasn't asked herself why. She wants to do it to feel important and not because she has something to say. She says superficial things about motion, for example, and is senselessly encouraged by Professors. She needs a more stable job and idea about how to materialize artistry of any sort. I like talking to her I guess. My pursuit of art of any sort feels bland when I talk to her which isnt a good sign. I could tell she was bored when I shared a poem. She was looking for the next thing to say about herself instead of listening. Or the poem isn't very good, which is fine, because it was hitting the wrong audience. I explained how the teachers her make me feel like I am going to become them: 30 and without any discernible profession or story. But this isn't true, this is the hubris of 23. I know which dreams to dream. Don't think tomorrow.

Writers sicken me right now but I am too afraid of being bored. Which is good. Goodnight.

[timeoverload]

Today wasn't great but it could have been worse. I was lucky because a lot of the doctors are still on vacation so I only had 15 cases. I was being kind of lazy because I haven't been feeling good. The rest of the week shouldn't be too busy either. It is a nice break because last week was really bad. I had 35 cases on Thursday and I didn't start feeling better until yesterday which was frustrating but that's usually how it goes.

I had time to get part of my CPR training out of the way this morning since I have to renew my certification every year. I have to go do the skills test tomorrow afternoon so hopefully it goes better than it has in the past. The mannequins don't work very well so I hate doing it. They are hooked up to the computer so it has to be done perfectly but the program is glitchy. I usually fail several times before I get it. I am also really bad at CPR so I hope I never get into a situation where I have to do it. I know I could do it but I'm not very strong. I also have to leave work and drive down the street because the education office isn't in the building anymore so hopefully I can find parking when I get back. It would be nice if I could just park in the parking garage but there are never spots in there anymore. I used to be able to park in there every day but I would have to show up at 5:30 in the morning just to get a spot now. It's annoying to have to park at the church but at least it has been nice out so I have been enjoying the walk lately.

I have been so emotional and teary eyed all day. I am trying to put a smile on my face but it's tough when all I want to do is scream and cry. I had to keep leaving the department so I could calm myself down. People keep asking me if I'm ok and I have to lie to them because I don't want to explain. I don't like losing my composure at work because I try to be bubbly and happy.

I am having a lot of trouble regulating my emotions and I want to be stable so bad. I haven't been eating enough at all and it's affecting my ability to make rational decisions so I'm sorry for being a basket case. I can't remember the last time I actually got groceries. My fridge is pretty much empty and I need to clean out the expired stuff soon. I have some canned food still. I will probably have soup for dinner. It's not much but it's better than eating nothing. I ran out of boost and I didn't want to stop to get more. I just wanted to come home.

I got off work 45 minutes early because it was slow and I didn't feel good. My heart was giving me trouble all afternoon but I know it's because of the muscle relaxers. It was scary but I had to keep moving. It is still bothering me a little bit but I think I will be ok if I take it easy for right now. I can't take muscle relaxers at all anymore unless I am in excruciating pain. I think it could also be due to a nutritional deficiency and stress. If my heart is still fluttering like this tomorrow, I am going to urgent care. I really don't want a TEE or a cardioversion now that I know how they are done. Those probes scare me. I wish I knew where my blood pressure monitor went but I will try to find it later. I think my blood pressure is high. I have enough problems and I don't want this to be an ongoing issue. I guess I am glad I have life insurance if something does happen to me so it doesn't bankrupt my family. I was thinking about writing a will earlier because I haven't made one yet but I think it's time to start thinking about that. I'm not trying to be pessimistic but it's good to plan ahead of time.

I am stressed because I have been over analyzing my behavior the past week. I didn't realize that my attachment issues were making me act the way I do and I am mad at myself for not realizing sooner. I don't know how to act now. I don't want to be a people pleaser but at the same time I don't want to make anyone unhappy or disappoint anyone. I just like to be nice. I am afraid to ask for any reassurance from anyone anymore. I am also too sensitive and get triggered so easily. I take everything so personally and I hate it. I don't know how to soothe myself I guess. I rub my own feet at the end of the day. I do everything I possibly can for myself. I don't want to be needy.

I also don't want to be overbearing and clingy. I am afraid to show too much affection now because I don't want to be annoying or make anyone mad for being too affectionate. I know you aren't my boyfriend but I like sending you nice things and I thought it made you happy but I don't want to seem desperate or needy. It's so hard because all I want to do is hug you and kiss you. I want to be loving without smothering you. I guess I'm not sure how to do that. I don't know how I should act. I can't meet other people's expectations if I don't know what they are.

I'm not trying to discourage you from talking to me. I don't know how to take the pressure off of you either. I have been trying to be more encouraging but maybe I am bad at it. I don't know what I'm doing.

As an autistic person, navigating relationships is such a challenge. I already have a tough time understanding social cues sometimes so all of this is very overwhelming and confusing. I wonder if I would handle all of this more gracefully if I was neurotypical.

I realize that other people aren't responsible for my happiness but I don't think I am going to find peace until I talk to you. I can't help it. Nothing else is working. I just can't handle it but I know you don't feel like you are ready. I think a couple years from now, you are going to feel silly for waiting so long. There is nothing to be afraid of. I am not trying to put pressure on you. I am just being honest. I wish I was as strong as you are. You are very stubborn sometimes but I know I can be that way too. I love you anyway. 💖💖💖

I want to be ok and be calm. I would love to talk to a therapist but I can't talk about this situation without them thinking I am crazier than I actually am. I don't want them to try to diagnose me with schizophrenia because I know I'm not that bad. It's so hard to find a good therapist. I saw a psychiatrist a few times when I was a teenager but for some reason my mom didn't want me to go back there so I stopped going. They were helpful so I wish I could have kept going. I have had a lot of bad therapists unfortunately. I had to go to therapy when my parents got divorced and that was awful. I'm pretty sure that was ordered by the court so I didn't have a choice. Hopefully I can find someone to talk to in the future. They offer counseling through a program at work but I don't know when I am supposed to do that.

I wish I had some friends to hang out with to distract me. I miss going out and having fun. I miss having girls to hang out with because I haven't gotten to do that since high school. It has been too long since I did anything. I am bad at planning stuff and reaching out to people first. It's just so hard to meet people with similar interests. I guess I could try to hang out with people from work but everyone just wants to go to the bar and drink all the time. I work with a lot of alcoholics unfortunately. Everyone is always stressed so I guess I get it. I wouldn't mind going out sometimes to have a couple drinks but I'm not trying to get wasted every weekend because that sucks. I don't know what other people do for fun around here. I know I will find friends someday.

I have been thinking about my family a lot. I'm so grateful for my dad and my grandma for being so supportive of me. I don't know what I would do without them.

I think my grandma is developing alzheimers because she is so forgetful. It could also be because she hit her head but I'm not sure. I can just tell she is starting to lose her memory and something is off. I am going to see her this weekend.

I have been thinking about my brother and sister a lot too. I wish they didn't act disgusted whenever they see me. They don't want me living here even though I try not to bother anyone. They don't say that but that's the vibe I get from them. I know I wasn't always a good sister but I'm a lot better now. I have learned a lot since I was helping take care of them. The other day I was coming home and my brother was getting ready to leave on his bike. I could tell he was trying to leave quickly because he was gone before I even got out of the car. He tries to avoid talking to me as much as possible. My sister doesn't respond when I talk to her most of the time. They are so nice to everyone else. It sucks because I remember begging my parents for a little brother or sister. I didn't think things would end up like this. I know they both grew up in a dysfunctional environment so I understand that they have some trauma from that. They never got a chance to have a "normal" childhood like I did. I am grateful that I got to experience that until I was 10 because it helped me a lot. I know that my dad has done his best to give them the best life he can. He works really hard and he is a good dad. It's hard being a single parent. I don't think that he is doing anything wrong. That's just the way they are. We all have mental health problems so I understand that. I think we all inherited some of the bad genes from my mom's side of the family but there's nothing we can do about that. I don't think there are as many mentally ill people on my dad's side of the family but my grandparents wouldn't discuss things like that when they were alive so I have no idea. I am hoping they will come around more as they get older. They might just have social anxiety around me because I'm kind of a stranger to them now. I worry about them a lot but I don't think they realize how much I care. All I can do is try to be nice.

My mom is also stressing me out because she won't stop being mean to me. She expects me to help her sort out her travel plans when she isn't even planning on staying here. She told me she expects me to come to Norfolk and be prepared to travel with her. I am not doing that. I wouldn't be safe going anywhere with her. I know she is sick but I can't handle her saying terrible things about the rest of the family. I had 70 unread messages from her this morning and reading them made me sick. She doesn't listen to a word I say and she will twist things around so I'm always walking on eggshells. If I say the wrong thing, she goes on a rant. I sent her a picture of myself recently and she was attacking me about my appearance. She got mad about my nose ring but I have had it since I was 14 so I don't know why it is such a big deal now. I'm afraid she would get pissed about my tattoos too. They make me feel pretty so it sucks to get shamed by the person that created me. She should accept me for who I am, not demonize me. It also seems like my grandma gets upset with me too because she doesn't seem to think I'm doing anything to try to work with her even though I have tried to explain that I have been but it's not going anywhere. It's very difficult to try to parent your own mother. I don't know if she is going to make it back here or not but I am scared to see her if she does. It's sad because I don't want to be afraid. I do want to see her one more time. I just don't know what is going to happen. She has to leave the shelter in North Dakota by June 1st so she is going to have to figure something out. I don't know how to help her when she fights with me about everything.

I am overwhelmed because the world is burning and I want to help people but I can't even help myself. I can't pour from an empty cup. I used to do a lot more than I have in the past couple years so I feel like I am failing everyone.

I have so much laundry and I think that accounts for 90% of the mess in my room. My dad offered to help me do my laundry and I appreciate him offering to do that but I don't think he realizes how bad it is. This is not his fault. It is just not possible to get another washing machine right now for a lot of reasons. He has enough to worry about and I don't want to add more stress. He already helps me so much with the cats, my car, and everything else. I wish that I could give back to him more.

Even if we did get another washing machine, I would be afraid to go down to the basement. I don't like going down there and I get an eerie feeling every time for some reason. I did have an experience when I was doing laundry a couple years ago shortly after moving back home that freaked me out. I was hanging up my clothes and I felt a warm hand rubbing my back. There was nothing behind me. I used to help my grandma with laundry all the time and I felt like it could have been her. I think it is also hard to go down there because that's where my grandpa's office used to be and I spent a lot of time down there when I was little. I think my grandparents are still here. I hear a lot of weird things. Sometimes I hear footsteps in my dad's room when I know there isn't anyone in there. It's obviously not an ominous presence but it is still weird to think about. I know they are watching over us.

I also feel weird about other people doing my laundry. I want to do it myself even if I can't make it to the laundromat. I like to be self-sufficient. I have been hand washing a lot of stuff lately because that's the easiest thing for me to do right now. It will probably take months to wash everything and sort it out. I don't have room to sort clothes in here. I have too much stuff in this little room. I miss having a clean room. I'm not sure how I am still somewhat functional when I live like this. I think everyone I know would be horrified if they found out.

I'm sorry for venting again. I just have a lot bottled up in my mind. I have been rambling about shit for a long time. I feel like I am getting my ass kicked mentally and physically. I'm tired of being so emotional all the time. I'm sorry for being that way so often. I promise that I'm not always like this.

I really shouldn't spend the whole night writing. I need to go make my soup I think. I will probably get ready for bed after that. I have been trying to find a new show to watch but it's hard. I have been watching a lot of documentaries. I haven't been in the mood for anything else. I wish it wasn't so hard for me to find something to watch. I have realized that I have hyperfixations so it's hard for me to try new things. Anyway, I need to relax. I think I will feel better tomorrow if I don't stress myself out too much. I need to try to stay positive and not get worked up over everything. Hopefully it will be a good day.

Thank you all for listening. I hope that everybody has a great day tomorrow. :) 💖💖💖

[drevnian-smol]

Personal Harley Quinn Show (HBO) Rant

Maybe I’m just a little bitch but I would actually like to see Harley struggle with falling back into bad habits more. Like I think I stopped watching s3 bc her life was honestly too together. Which, I know.

But we see so little of her back and forth because Ivy’s always there and the show runners want a good lesbian relationship, which is totally justified. But with the characters Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy, stable is the last thing I expected. Like yeah, totally they’d balance each other out and have consistency, but Harley would still be bouncing off the walls every 5 minutes no matter what Ivy does, and no matter how many dogs or cats Harley shoves in Ivy’s face, deep down all Ivy’s thinking about is destroying human kind, sans Harley. So I’m just really confused by how actually on the same page the two of them are because I’ve never met any two people like that, and maybe it’s possible, but why are they so calm??? I know them to be two characters that spontaneously implode at times and I guess I started finding it more difficult to relate to them the more domestic and mature they got, but I’m also sad that Psycho’s gone.

Not like, really sad, but I miss seeing an asshole every few scenes. It was refreshing and realistic, and honestly I started finding myself more tolerant of others because of him, in some weird way. So the other part that bothers me is that there’s less of a split of focus, which I know is stupid when the show is supposed to be Harley Quinn’s, but it’s basically the Harley and Ivy show already so why can’t I ask for more plots focusing on other characters. The personas they had chosen for others like Batman and the Freezer guy with the dying wife that I’ve temporarily forgotten the name of, are really interesting, and I liked seeing this big entertaining world Harley was exploring. Plus, I think this is a chance to display that weird juxtaposition of how backwards the Gotham culture is and how it’s actually very similar to what modern day culture is becoming, from a broad perspective at least.

And last, I shall speak of sacrilege and say, I don’t think Harley being tempted by Joker is the worst idea plot wise. Like yeah, she’s happy. Yeah, she has no reason to go back. But she’s gonna be growing more distant from Ivy now, just because they can’t spend as much time together, which allows for pervasive thoughts that would just escalate with time. So I don’t think the writers should take a “never going back there” approach and maybe have it be something Harley confronts again. Maybe she doesn’t give in, maybe she never really wants to, but maybe she remembers what it was like to be with him, remembers how he treated her, and begins to doubt the life she has with Ivy (not because he was good). And then Ivy can be there for her, and she can overcome it again. But Joker isn’t something that can just disappear from Harley’s life. Yeah, she has a lot of experience with repression, but we all have those things that just find you time and time again. The kinds of things you confront time and time again in your life, that you get better at overcoming, but still have to face it.

I think real growth for Harley would come from that kind of awareness, to have strength in the face of everything without repressing or ignoring or deluding. I think that might be why I stopped understanding Harley after a certain point, because it seemed like after the first 2 seasons she had really moved on and I didn’t recognize any of the struggles I’ve had in my life anymore. So I guess, I just want her to be more human. Maybe I’m weird, but… idk the show just left me feeling emotionally unresolved more than once.

Also side note, Sy was the craziest person in the show and it should’ve stayed that way.

[janedoe-ing]

yesterday sucked af

i swear everything was going fine in the morning, i went to the dentist to get my braces checked and etc. then suddenly it all went down at 330 when i received my finals results for sem 1. it was bad like SUPER BAD but weirdly i don't really care much yesterday. something was bothering me more than my results. my dad.

asked him for nafkah, then he started gaslighting me out of a sudden. i mean he's going to give it but he gaslighted me after. the last time he gave us was like 500 two weeks ago?? which i think is a reasonable period of time to ask again for the nafkah. but then he proceeded to gaslight me, saying he's not that rich and shit, and i need to try spending less?????? like what the fuck i was so offended

my mom has been asking me to ask him for the money since she needed it to buy like this new boots my misogynist ugly ass brother who is not even good at sports but kept buying new equipment and shit and not wearing it at the end of the day. such a waste of money, but still, we do need the money for daily usage etc.

takkan la we have to use my mom's money again, she used A LOT of hers for us, like she rarely have money for herself sometimes like GOSH and she doesn't even have a stable gaji???? but my dad, who has the title of dato' and a 10k gaji per month decided to say he's not rich???? and he has like a lot of hutang to pay for... idk what he's saying is true or not, but my head kept leading me to think that he may be spending his money on that ugly ass fish faced bitch. I MEAN ITS LOGICAL JE CONSIDERING THEY'RE HUSBANDS AND WIFE NOW LMAO. AND NOT TO FORGET HE LIED THAT TO MY FACE TOO 😊😊

like wdym u don't have any left out of 10k..... ur house, ur car, ur duit minyak etc are literally funded by the government......... lets say if ure paying ur hutang, 5-6k might be enough per month at least, and u don't even eat outside often, usually eat at masjid (if u said was true la lol) and we have to spend money wisely?????? when u give 500 for 3 people?????? my dad is out of touch istg

i hate cursing my parents bcs i swear i love them but some days i just get so frustrated over things like this, especially about financial stuff. one thing led to another and the most frustrating thing is i cant even tell my mom that my dad asked us to spend money wisely or else she'll talk shit about him and I HAVE TO LISTEN TO IT and i dont want that. i cant even sleep comfortably, i kept waking up every 5-10 minutes and started overthinking all the shit i talked about above. like what the shit. im so pissed. I EVEN ALMOST DECIDED TO WORK IN SEM 2 ISTG AND I MIGHT DO IT BCS I REALLY NEED THE MONEY. my ptptn is def not enough to cover up any nafkah my dad doesn't give to us and i need to money as well to eat and buy books and etc. like shit. AND MY UGLY ASS RESULTS LITERALLY MADE IT WORSE.

i hate myself. ill do better next semester. totally underestimated um law school lmao im a joke. IM THE JOKE.

[xaharadesert]

Return to the Lazaret Alone Pt. 5 - Headcanon

Asra Alnazar x MC

A/N: Almost done! @snarkfinnicksoup, only one more to go after this! But of course, who knows how long it’ll actually take me to get around to writing it :) Requests are open! Oh, and for anyone who’s wondering, after I finish this request I have about 8 others that have been sitting in my inbox for way too long, so if it takes a long time for me to post your request, that’s why! I like to take my time and write these headcanons to the best of my ability! Please let me know if there are any spelling or grammar mistakes! Also, I know this didn’t touch on MC’s reasons for going to the Lazaret as much as the previous parts, but I feel like at this point it’s a bit repetitive. But, I made Asra’s perspective extra angsty to make up for it!

TW: crying, Lazaret, isolation, relationship insecurities, anxiety, panic attack, food mention, mentions of death

Spoilers for the end of the game!

💙Asra💙

Leaving an argument unresolved was one of Asra’s least favourite things to do

Even if the two of you couldn’t reach a compromise or some sort of agreement, he, at the bare minimum, always liked to soothe over any hurt feelings before separating in any way

Your last argument before you had lost your memories would forever be one of his greatest regrets, and he was determined not to make the same mistake by letting you think he didn’t love you completely

So even if you were angry, and needed some time to sort out your feelings before addressing the issue again, he would take your hand tightly in his own and tell you that he loved you before letting you go off on your own

With that being said, your most recent argument was much more bitter than usual, and even though he had still told you he loved you, he felt as though you hadn’t heard him properly

The both of you had gone to bed feeling bad, but neither of you had wanted to stay up any later fighting

Once sleep had reset your emotions, you could try again more peacefully in the morning

Or at least, that’s what Asra had hoped would happen

But when he woke up the next morning, it was to find you missing

Now normally, this wasn’t an unusual occurrence

He liked to sleep in late as often as possible, and no matter how long you slept, he would probably be in bed longer

So you not being next to him shouldn’t have scared him as much as it did

But to some degree, your emotions were connected, and he could feel his heart ache right along side you

He was out of bed before any other thoughts could register in his mind, throwing on some clothes, allowing Faust to slither into his shirt, and grabbing a few key items— most importantly, his compass

Not bothering with breakfast, he followed the compass’s needle as it pointed him toward what he desired most: you

He moved through the town quickly, not returning any of the greetings thrown his way by familiar townsfolk

An unpleasant feeling tugged at his gut, telling him that he already knew where you were

Telling him that the past three years had been a lie; telling him that his worst fears were a reality

Telling him that you were dead

His panic rose instead his chest, threatening to burst out

Doing his best to push it down, he kept moving, trying to convince himself that maybe you were just buying something at the edge of town

He couldn’t consider any other possibilities without breaking down

So when he came to the edge of town, the end of the dock, facing toward the Lazaret, that’s what he did

He broke down

Rationally, he knew you were fine

He didn’t know why you would have gone to the Lazaret, much less alone, but he knew that you were alive

But a larger part of him didn’t care

It insisted that you were dead, that he had failed to save you, that you hated him for everything he put you through

And he couldn’t help but fall to his knees, tears streaming down his face as he tried to stop himself from screaming for you

He felt like he couldn’t breathe; there was an invisible hand wrapped around his throat, slowly and painfully strangling him

The dock beneath him seemed to be falling away, and he felt like he was falling with it, not into the water below, but into an endless void

After what felt like an eternity, he slowly regained control of his senses

There were a couple people kneeling beside him, hovering but not touching as they tried to talk him back to reality

He didn’t recognize them, so they were likely just concerned passerbys, but he appreciated them nonetheless

It took a while, but eventually he was calm enough to convince them to leave him be

Now that the initial panic had passed by, he felt empty, but at the same time, determined

He wasn’t sure how long he had taken for himself, but he felt ready to find you and bring you back home, where you belonged

Quickly finding someone willing to ferry him to the Lazaret for a certain price, he sat in a small boat, staring solemnly at the Lazaret as it slowly grew bigger

When he reached the shore, he asked the boat’s owner to wait just a while until his return with you

He pulled out the compass and followed it once more, refusing to look at his surroundings lest he fall into panic again

It lead him into the lone building occupying the island and he pushed down his rising fear again, focusing on the fact that every step brought him closer to you

And there you were; curled up to be as small as possible, sitting on the ash covered ground

He choked back a cry and very nearly threw himself at you, holding you tight and trying not to break down again

You were startled for sure— Asra hadn’t made a sound when he came in— but he didn’t seem to notice, too busy being relieved and repeating quietly out loud that you were alive, you were safe, you were with him

And frankly, if you started crying to, then nobody would be able to blame you

The two of you clung together, crying for different reasons, but crying nonetheless

Eventually Asra managed to pry himself away from you just enough to look deep into you eyes

His cries slowly turned to laughter out of relief that you were safe, back to crying because of where he had found you, back to laughter again because, yes, he had found you, and you were alive

All in all it was a very messy and confusing time for the both of you

But eventually calm and relative silence fell over you as a comforting blanket, save for the occasional sniffle or chuckle

Frankly, neither of you was in a state to talk things through at the moment

You would, for sure, as there was no way Asra would ever leave anything unresolved ever again, but for that one day, all he wanted to do was take you home and hold you close

He shakily pushed himself to his feet, and tried to help you up despite not being very stable himself

The two of you left the Lazaret hand in hand, relieved to be together, but knowing you had much to talk about later

[scum-belina]

I don’t think this job is going to work out. If you have the patience to read through all my concerns and problems with my work, then please tell my your opinion on it I’m actually really wanting some advice or thoughts on what to do here.

So, last week was my first week, and they trained me 3 days as a dietary aide (what I applied and was hired for.) and on day for they just let me work on my own along with my fave cook, we’ll call her “K” for this post. I did good on my 4th day, but still had a lot I needed to memorize bc it’s really important to learn what each patient likes, dislikes, can have, and can’t have. I felt decent after my 4th day and practiced memorizing more stuff on my 2 days off, and felt like I’d do even better as an aide on my 5th day.

Well, my boss had me come in at 4am today and showed me how to do breakfast all by myself as an aide AND cook. Then when the actual cook “T” showed up, my boss told her “I’m gonna have you train liz to be a cook today. Try to have her trained completely in the next 3 days. And cook T was like “what!!!!!!” she wasn’t prepared at all to train me. I felt so awkward and in the way, but made a roast, cut up and roasted abt 40 potatoes, made a massive tray of garlic bread from scratch, and a cake all by myself. all of it was a success, but I really am not confident enough to be a cook here.It’s very hard to get all of it ready on time and again this is NOT what I was hired to do!!!

Another thing is that cooks make more money than the aides, but I am not being paid a cook’s wage when I’m cook, I just get paid my aide wage. They don’t see what the big deal is but umm...I DO! I’m supposed to go in again at 4am tomorrow and do it all again, then the day after that it’s just going to be me in the kitchen doing everything by myself! Two jobs at once! 

I am already dreading work now and it’s only my 5th day. The kitchen is small, sweltering, and just...not good. all the other aides and cooks are unreliable except for K, and I really do like her but my boss is already talking about making me and K head over the kitchen bc my boss is trying to get a kidney transplant asap, and when/if she does, show won’t be able to work for at least 4 months. I understand her desperation to have me be able to do both jobs, but it’s all too much too fast. I have not been trained properly except for one day by K. I take any job I do seriously and want to do it right and they don’t seem to care about me doing it right, they just want me there to cover their shifts.

I still feel apprehensive about putting in my two weeks notice so soon despite having no schedule, never knowing what I’ll be doing each day or who I’ll be working with, not being paid accurately, etc. bc I really do like K and don’t want to leave her with everything on her shoulders, and I feel bad for my boss bc of her kidney transplant struggle. Plus I’ve already gotten to know some of the residents and so many are so funny and precious.

But in all honesty, I do not see this job getting any better for me. They’re already piling on so much and I still don’t even know where half of our damn ingredients and utensils are bc no one will show me and if I ask they rarely have the time. I hate the absurd ordeal they make you go through every time you sign in, clock in, sign out, clock out. and so much more that’s a whole bunch of nothing. Their covid safety stuff is all for show none of them actually take the proper precautions. 

There’s so, so, so, SO much more messed up with my job and the entire company. I’m already so sick of it. I want a steady stable schedule. I don’t want to have to text my boss 5 times a day every day asking if I work tomorrow and what time, and then wait 6 hours to get response from her. Plus, my grandparent’s and a couple of neighbors I help are needing more and more care lately and now I don’t have enough time to do their shopping, clean heir houses, etc. I feel so low. I would much rather work at a store or something than here. I’m just so nervous and flat-out afraid to put in my two weeks notice so soon. I’m really agonizing over this. :(

[hrina]

1923, Pt. I - The Day

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: PG (for now) WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: nope

hi everyone! here is PART 1 of my historical AU featuring harry as a groundskeeper/farmhand (i know that those two professions are slightly different but just let me have this ok snfjsjfnsdsf)

warning: parts of this fic will contain mature language and nsfw content. if it makes you uncomfortable, you absolutely do not have to read! take care of urselves <3

this series will be composed of three parts altogether, so i hope u all enjoy this first one! as always, please reblog the fics that you like! and don’t hesitate to send in feedback, i promise that we, as writers, always love to witness your reactions :) anywayyyy now that we’ve covered all the bases, go stupid with 1920s harry! can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💌💌💌

~*~

    July 5th, 1923

“What if he comes back with a beard that goes all the way down to his knees?”

You snort and shake your head. “He’s only been gone for a few months, Dee. I don’t think it’s possible for one’s whiskers to grow that quickly.”

Lydia shrugs, toying with the hem of her pale blue dress. “What if he met an evil witch in New York who cast a spell on him? And now he’s doomed to live out the rest of his life with horrifying facial hair!”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. I don’t think that there are any witches in New York, you want to say, but you keep your mouth shut. Believing in magic is an integral part of childhood—you don’t want to be the one who takes that away from her. Soon enough, she’ll figure it out for herself.

You wind an elastic around your fingers, securing the end of her braid so that it doesn’t unravel. “That’s one,” you say, sighing quietly. “Turn to the side so that I can start on the other.”

She obeys, angling her head to the left. You gather her dark curls in a loose fist, skimming your nails against her scalp to collect every last strand.

Her hair has grown hot, absorbing the heat of the sun. It’s a beautiful day—there isn’t a single cloud in the sky. The two of you are sitting on the front steps of your home, looking out over the paved circular driveway and waiting excitedly for Andrew’s car to pull up to the iron gate. Realistically, you know that he won’t be here for at least another few hours, but Lydia insisted that you unwind outside to pass the time.

Somehow, she persuaded you to fashion her hair into twin braids. And though you had groaned at the initial request, here you are.

“He’s bringing a friend, you know,” your sister suddenly pipes up. “He told me in his letter.”

“Oh, really,” you say wryly. “And who exactly is this friend of his?”

“Martin Russell,” Lydia says, as though she’s reciting lines for a play. “He graduated from Harvard and then built his own company with nothing but a nickel to his name. Drew says that they’re trying to merge and become an empire.”

“An empire,” you echo, humouring her. “That sounds awfully intimidating, don’t you think?”

“Not to me,” she boasts, lacing her fingers together in her lap and squaring her shoulders. “Drew told me that I’m a businesswoman in the making.”

“That, you are,” you agree. You tie your remaining elastic around her second braid, fastening it in place. “All done.”

Lydia jumps to her feet, tugging down the material of her dress and turning to face you. She strikes a pose, placing one hand on her waist and lifting the other above her head. “How do I look?”

“Stunning,” you say, smiling up at her softly. “You’re the prettiest little girl I’ve ever seen.”

At that, she frowns.

“I’m not little!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m thirteen and a half!”

“That’s little,” you say, laughing quietly. “Trust me. Once you get to my age, you’ll understand.”

“I’d rather be little than ancient,” she shoots back, sticking her tongue out good-naturedly. You scoff, bringing your fingers up to your forehead so that you can shield your eyes from the sun.

“Twenty-three is not ancient!” you say, baffled.

Lydia just giggles, twirling around a few times and watching the skirt of her dress fan out handsomely. Once she looks up, however, she freezes in her tracks. Your eyebrows knit together as she extends her arm in a frantic wave.

“Hi, Harry!”

You stiffen, reflexively following her gaze.

Harry is about thirty feet from the steps, crossing the driveway with a heavy bag of soil slung over his shoulder. In his other hand, he’s carrying a bucket filled with rusted gardening tools. You had been so caught up in your conversation with your sister that you failed to notice him. He’s making his way toward the pretty garden that separates the entry and exit of the driveway, tucked between the two strips of road and outlined with smooth grey stones.

You swallow forcefully when he pauses at the sound of Lydia’s voice. He turns, and you get a full view of his broad chest, tanned skin peeking out from underneath his white shirt. Brown trousers cover his legs, held up by matching suspenders. His black boots are speckled with dried mud—you guess that he’s just come from the stables in the back.

Upon catching sight of your sister, he smiles and begins to walk over. You shift quickly, trying to focus on something—anything—else.

“Good afternoon, little bug.” Harry’s tone is deep, slow, rough. It sends a shiver down your spine. “You alright?”

“Very much so,” Lydia replies, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Harry, how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” he replies.

Your sister glances over at you, her brows arched high on her forehead. “He’s practically primeval.”

“Dee!” Her name leaves your lips as an admonishment, but you can’t stifle your laugh.

She just giggles and turns back to Harry; he’s smirking slightly, watching your interaction unfold. “Are you going to be planting more roses?” Lydia asks, changing the subject.

“Yes.” He nods. He sets the bucket down and uses his free hand to realign the bag of soil on his shoulder. “Would you like to help?”

Lydia spins around to face you, her eyes wide and pleading. “Can I? Pretty please?”

“You’re supposed to take Artemis out for a ride,” you tell her, pursing your lips. “You know how antsy she gets when she’s cooped up all day.”

“Can’t you take her out?” Lydia asks, clasping her fingers together and bringing them up to her chest.

“Dee,” you start, shaking your head, “you know I don’t—I couldn’t possibly—”

“Harry,” she says suddenly, glancing down at him from over her shoulder. “Have you been in the stables today? Did you see Artemis?”

Harry hums dutifully. His eyes fall to you—you look away.

“And did she seem anxious at all?” Lydia presses expectantly, placing her hands on her hips.

He hesitates. “Well…no. But if you need to take her out, please do. I’m perfectly capable of planting by myself.”

“Nonsense,” she says, waving away his words. She turns back to you, jutting her bottom lip out into an imploring pout. “Can’t you ask someone else to do it? What about Penelope? Or Beth?”

“Beth’s preparing lunch,” you say, scoffing quietly. “Besides, she refuses to work in a messy environment. What makes you think that she’ll willingly go down to the stables, of all places?”

Lydia frowns, blowing out an annoyed sigh.

“Fine,” she acquiesces at last, rolling her eyes. She spins around, hopping down the remaining steps and fixing Harry with an accusatory glare. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes! Don’t you dare start without me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, little bug,” he replies, his lips twitching. You watch as Lydia takes off, her braids whipping in the wind as she sprints toward the side of the house. Once she disappears around the corner and out of your sight, you press your palms to your face, sighing loudly.

“She’s too much,” you mutter, mostly to yourself. Harry chuckles quietly from the bottom of the stairs; you freeze suddenly, remembering that he’s still there.

“I should—” You clear your throat, climbing to your feet. The light material of your dress tickles the skin just below your knees. “I should probably go. There’s still so much to do before Drew returns.”

You’re lying, of course. But he doesn’t need to know that.

“I’m sure there is.” Harry nods, running his fingers through his hair. The dark strands curl beautifully behind his ears. You allow yourself to study them for only a moment before diverting your gaze up to the sky.

“It’s hot—are you thirsty?” you ask, squinted eyes trained on miles of cerulean blue. “I can get Beth to bring you some water, if you’d like.”

“That’d be lovely,” he says. “Thank you.”

You simply hum in response. Your hands are abnormally clammy when you wipe them across the thin petticoat covering your thighs.

“Right,” you say, chancing a glance back down at him. “Well…have a nice day.”

“You too, miss.”

You pause, fiddling with the satin bow tied at the small of your back. “You—you don’t have to call me that, Harry,” you remind him, shaking your head. “How many times must I tell you?”

“My apologies,” he says, shrugging. “Force of habit.”

“It’s alright,” you say, intent on avoiding his gaze. “It just—it makes me feel as though I’m your—your—”

You break off, uncertain of how to proceed. Thankfully, though, Harry seems to understand. He chuckles softly, bowing his chin in agreement. “I know.”

Embarrassment festers in your chest, creeping up your neck and settling into your cheeks. You straighten, swallowing down the hard lump in your throat and retreating toward the door. “Lydia will be back soon, I’m sure. Good day.”

When Harry lifts his head again, his green eyes teem with an emotion that is somehow unrecognizable yet familiar all at once. The gruff timbre of his response makes your stomach churn nervously, flipping your breakfast of fresh fruits and toast. You hate it more than anything else in the world.

You don’t hate him, though.

No…you could never hate him.

“Good day, miss. Ah, I mean—” His face collapses into a grimace. He grunts at the thoughtless error, shaking his head. “—good day.”

~*~

It’s just past three in the afternoon when a car horn honks from outside. Lydia’s shrill squeal of excitement follows soon thereafter.

“Drew!” she cries. She rushes into the front foyer, white shoes squeaking against the polished floor. The bottom of her dress is dotted with faded spots of mud, a testament to her time spent in the garden earlier today.

“Dee,” you scold her, frowning. “I told you to change once you had finished planting.”

“Sorry!” she says, though her tone suggests that she isn’t sorry at all—not in the slightest. “Got distracted!”

She grabs your hand, and you yelp when she gives a mighty tug, towing you outside. You dust off the skirt of your dress, tucking your hair behind your ears and staring at the iron gate in the distance—it’s closing back up, metal spines glinting alluringly in the sunlight. On one side of the driveway, a bright red car rolls along the pavement, tires bumping merrily against the ground. Two silhouettes sit in the front; the man behind the wheel honks the horn again and extends his arm through the window, sweeping it upward in a triumphant greeting.

“Drew!” Lydia repeats. She charges down the front steps, her hands outstretched.

“Be careful!” you call after her, gnawing anxiously on your bottom lip.

The sun is still high in the sky. You crane your neck, surveying your surroundings. Heat rises from the driveway in murky waves, blurring the scenery. The large portico that spans nearly the entire width of your home is lined with bushels of potted plants—roses and peonies and daffodils. The lawn is bright and healthy, spearmint-green grass trimmed to perfection.

Something shifts in the periphery of your vision. Your head snaps to the left.

Harry is there, leaning against the corner of the house. He’s still sporting the same outfit as before, except it’s even more sullied, now. You’re not surprised. Gardening is grubby work, but gardening with Lydia…it’s a miracle that he’s not caked in mud, soiled from head to toe.

On cue, Harry reaches for a dirty rag dangling over his shoulder. He grasps the material with strong fingers, lifting it to his face and wiping down his forehead and his cheeks. You watch him closely, fascinated by the thin sheen of sweat sparkling on his skin.

As though sensing your stare, his eyes dart over, locking squarely with yours.

A soft gasp falls from your lips. You clench your jaw, incontrovertibly caught, and quickly look away.

As soon as Andrew steps out of the car, Lydia launches herself into his arms. He laughs gleefully, catching her with ease and spinning her around. He’s dressed in a cream-coloured suit, the collar of his periwinkle button-up peeking out beneath the lapels. His loafers are shiny and brown; a matching hat is perched atop his head, hiding his dark hair from view. The cap makes his ears stick out even more than usual—upon realising this, you smile.

“Look at how much you’ve grown!” Andrew grunts, setting Lydia back down on the ground. He puts his hand next to her shoulder, as though measuring her against an invisible wall. “The last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you were only this tall.”

She beams before standing on her tiptoes and poking at his chest. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t be gone for so long next time!”

“Touché,” he chuckles, nodding in assent. His fingers find the ends of her braids, fiddling with them absentmindedly. “And who’s responsible for these pretty things, hm?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question,” you interject, making your way down the steps.

Andrew looks up at you and grins widely. You hold out your arms as you approach, and he accepts your invitation with a happy call of your name. He’s tall—a few inches over six feet, if you had to guess. You hug him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder and flattening your palms against his back.

“You look very handsome,” you tell him when you break apart. “I like this colour on you.”

He laughs sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “Do you? I was on the fence about it, truthfully.”

“You shouldn’t have been—it looks good,” you assure him, smoothing your knuckles over his collar. “What took you so long? You’re late.”

“Stopped off at the cemetery to visit mum and dad,” he explains. “Changed their flowers, too—calla lilies, this time.”

You nod grimly, pursing your lips. “Mum’s favourite. Excellent choice.”

One of the car’s doors slams shut; the noise pulls your attention away from your brother. You peer past him, eyes landing on the man who has just exited the passenger side of the vehicle. His skin is a fair shade of olive, complimented beautifully by the beige jacket slung over his shoulders. Checkered brown pants cover his legs, and he’s clutching a sturdy briefcase in one hand. Andrew retreats, keeping a palm on the small of your back as he leads you over to his companion.

“Girls,” he says, tipping his cap, “this is my business partner, Martin Russell. Martin, these are my sisters.”

Martin bows his head. “Lovely to meet you both.”

“Are you tired, Mister Russell?” you ask. “It’s been a long journey, I’m sure.”

“I’m quite alright, miss, thank you,” he replies.

You don’t miss the way his amber eyes trail along your figure as he straightens up. You step back before you even have the chance to register what you’re doing.

“Hello!” Lydia—much to your relief—butts in, grabbing Martin’s hand and shaking it frantically. “I’m Lydia. Say, how would you describe your time at Harvard? Did you enjoy it? Was it a lot of work?”

Martin chuckles nervously, taken aback by your sister’s blathering. “Er,” he starts, “I—”

“Dee,” Andrew says, snickering quietly. “At least let the man get settled in before you begin interrogating him.”

“Sorry,” Lydia mumbles, shrinking away.

“That’s alright,” Andrew says, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “You’ll have plenty of time to chat with him over dinner tonight, won’t you? Is it true that Beth is preparing my favourite?”

Your sister beams and nods. “I asked her to!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Andrew smiles. He looks up at the house, his forlorn gaze running over the plethora of pale bricks and clear windows. Abruptly, he pauses, squinting and lifting his fingers to shield his face from the sun. “Is that…?”

Your blood runs cold.

Andrew raises an arm high above his head. “Harry!”

And suddenly, staring down at the ground becomes your most pressing concern of the day. Harry makes his way over, a mountain of handsome grime. It’s unfair, really, you think. How does he manage to look so fetching, even beneath a thin layer of soot?

“How have you been?” Andrew asks, surging forward and shaking his hand. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” Harry replies, grinning. “I’ve been alright. Keeping the garden tame, keeping the stables clean.” He tosses a pointed look in Lydia’s direction. “Keeping this little bug out of trouble.”

“Hey!” she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Harry just chuckles.

“I’m happy to hear that,” Andrew says, nodding in satisfaction. “It’s nice knowing that there’s still a man around the house to take care of these two.”

You bristle at his words, scowling in mock-offense. “We are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, thank you very much.”

“I know.” Your brother shoots you a mischievous wink, and only then do you realise that he’s merely trying to get a rise out of you. You roll your eyes, though you can’t quell the fond smile that creeps onto your face.

“Let’s go in,” you suggest. “You can say hello to the rest of the staff, and then we can all wash up before dinner.”

Andrew hums in agreement. He tilts his head to the side, attention fixed almost exclusively on Harry. “You should come, H,” he says swiftly. “It’s been too long; we need to catch up.”

“Drew—” Your shoulders tense, and your nostrils flare. “I don’t think—”

“I’d love to,” Harry interrupts. He hooks his thumbs beneath the straps of his suspenders. “Thank you for the invite, Drew.”

“Of course.” Your brother nods before turning back to Lydia and Martin. “Shall we, then?”

The three of them push between you and Harry, climbing up the steps and disappearing through the front door. Inside, your sister unleashes a stream of fleeting questions: What’s it like in New York? Are the people nice? How was the food? Did you see the Statue of Liberty?

Gradually, her inquiries fade away. You stand there, chest inflated with a held breath and fingers fidgeting anxiously with the skirt of your dress. The sun beats down against the crown of your head, triggering a mild fit of dizziness.

Or maybe that’s just Harry.

“So…,” he begins, blowing out an awkward sigh. “What shall we be eating tonight?”

You scoff, unable to help yourself. “You accepted the offer without knowing exactly what it was?”

“Should I know?”

You swallow heavily, pinning your gaze on the scarlet vehicle still parked only a few feet away. “Minestrone,” you say. The word is clipped. “Drew loves it.”

“I’ve had it,” he tells you. “Beth always saves me a bit if there’s some left over.”

You nod wordlessly.

“Are you upset with me?” Harry asks, digging his hands into his pockets. You’re so taken aback by his question that your head snaps toward him, brows cinched together in confusion.

“What?” The question falls from your lips before you can blink. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“You won’t even look at me,” he hums, shrugging casually.

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“Not before, you weren’t.”

“I—” you break off, pursing your lips and squeezing your eyes shut. You pinch the bridge of your nose between two fingers, trying to keep yourself composed. “I have to go.”

“As do I.”

“Right.” You avoid his gaze. “Goodbye, then.” You whip around, hurrying up the steps.

“Goodbye,” Harry replies from behind you. The smile in his voice is painfully conspicuous. “See you at dinner.”

~*~

You’ve just pinned a final clip into your hair when Lydia comes barrelling through your bedroom door with no warning whatsoever. You’ve long since given up on reprimanding her for it. She always forgets to knock.

“Can you button me up?” she requests, spinning around and exposing her bare back.

“Did you run down the hall like that?” you ask, laughing at her eccentricity.

“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly. “But don’t worry—I made sure that the coast was clear.”

“Brilliant. Your reconnaissance skills are truly a sight to behold.”

She scoffs, smiling at you from over her shoulder. “Are you going to help me, or not?”

“Patience, Dee,” you say. You turn back to your own reflection, twirling your finger through a loose strand of hair and letting it fall picturesquely against your temple. “There.”

Her feet scuffle absentmindedly against the floor as you approach her. She’s wearing a pastel pink dress with short, puffy sleeves that cinch at her skinny biceps. The bottom hem of her petticoat tickles her knees, which strain against transparent white tights. You remember wearing something nearly identical when you were her age. The outfit isn’t a hand-me-down, though. The stitching is brand-new, and the fabric is crisp and fresh, like it’s never once seen the inside of a washtub.

“It’s nice having Drew back home, wouldn’t you agree?” you ask your sister. She squeals when the nail of your index finger ghosts playfully up her spine.

“It is,” she concurs as you begin to fasten the clasps at the small of her back. “I’ve missed him terribly.”

“So have I,” you hum, pressing your mouth into a thin line. “There are some things that I could do without, though. Like that comment he made about us not being able to take care of ourselves.”

“He was only teasing,” Lydia says. “You know that. Besides—” She shrugs, puckering her lips idly. “—he was right. Harry does take care of us, even though we may not always need it.”

At that, you pause.

“‘Harry takes care of us’?” you parrot, your brows knitting together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she starts, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Who trims the lawn and tends to the flowers early in the morning? And who cleans out the stables when they get messy?”

“We pay him to do those things, Dee,” you say, shaking your head slightly. “It’s his job.”

“I suppose you’re right,” she agrees. “But he does so much more, don’t you think?”

You say nothing. She takes your silence as an invitation to elaborate.

“For example,” she says—declares, “he never gets irritated with me whenever I prattle on about my day.”

“Oh.” You smirk. “So you are aware of your tendency to talk too much.”

“Not funny,” she deadpans. You giggle.

“He always lets me follow him around whenever I get bored,” she adds, her eyes glazing over. “And he likes to make sure that you’re alright, too.”

Your fingers fumble with the last button at the top of her dress. You pray that she doesn’t detect the sudden blunder. “How so?” you probe, trying to keep your voice level.

“You know,” she indicates, even though you most certainly do not. “Like today, as we were planting the roses. He asked me how you were doing—if you were eating well, if you were getting enough sleep. Those are fairly standard inquiries regarding one’s wellbeing, I’d say. Do you disagree?”

“No,” you murmur, gnawing on your painted bottom lip. “I don’t.”

You finish your task, fastening the final clasp on her dress and smoothing your fingers down her sides. “There you go,” you say softly, your throat dry. “All done.”

“Thank you,” she singsongs, twirling around to face you. She studies you closely, soaking in the black floor-length gown cascading down your figure. “You look beautiful,” she says, her tone sincere. “Martin’s going to be utterly speechless when he sees you!”

A weak chuckle falls from your mouth. “Shall we go down?” you suggest, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the door.

“Yes, please,” she replies. She places a palm over her stomach, features crumpling into a theatrical scowl. “I’m famished.”

You smile.

And as you exit your bedroom with your sister in tow, you realise that she may have been wrong about which man you’re hoping to impress.

~*~

Dinner is full of surprises, many of which present themselves in the form of Martin Russell. It’s astonishing, you think, because the man who had barely spoken ten words upon first meeting you is now commanding the table at which you’re sat. Andrew is perched at the head, with Martin just off to his right. Lydia is next to him, and you’re directly across from him. And that means that Harry…

Harry is right next to you.

You do everything in your power to avoid looking in his direction. Thankfully, it proves to be easier than expected, considering the fact that Martin has been droning on about his company for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t believe that anyone else has managed to squeeze in a single word.

There’s wine, candles, and the finest china your family owns. But all of that pales in comparison to the man sitting beside you.

Harry cleans up exquisitely. Upon first entering the dining room, you were shocked to find him in a black tuxedo with a white bowtie resting just below his throat. It appears that he even combed and gelled his hair, though some strands have fallen free from the style and now hang down over his forehead. You don’t mind it, though—if anything, it’s a hint of the man you know peeking through. And the man you know is handsome—alarmingly so.

Drew had whistled as you descended the stairs. He then offered you his arm, patting your hand and telling you that you looked wonderful. Martin hadn’t been able to control his reaction, his eyes raking up and down your figure like you were a lavish meal on a silver platter. It had taken everything in you to hide your distaste.

But Harry…

Harry hadn’t said a word. He’d fixed his face perfectly, showing no sign of emotion whatsoever. You’d been hoping for something—anything—indicative of his opinion toward your outfit, but you observed no such consequence. He’d only acknowledged you with a curt nod before settling into his chair and pointedly looking away.

And now, here you are—a bowl of minestrone in front of you, a wineglass inches away from your lips, and an irritated groan simmering on the back of your tongue. Martin’s voice is growing more and more irksome by the minute.

“And then, it was as though they couldn’t get enough—”

“I had assured them that I would bring in at least twice the revenue—”

“It was incredible! I’ve never seen anything like it—”

You polish off the rest of your wine, reaching across the table for the half-empty bottle. No one notices as you pour a bit more of the alcohol into your glass, sneakily surpassing what would be considered appropriate for a lady to consume. You set the bottle back down with a silent huff, lifting the goblet to your lips and letting your attention wander.

You freeze when you catch Harry staring at you out of the corner of his eye. The edges of his mouth are curled up ever-so-slightly, nearly imperceptible. Heat rushes to your cheeks; you gulp down a large sip of wine, averting your gaze.

You deposit your drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, glaring intently at your food. You can feel Harry’s playful stare burning a hole into the side of your head; you suspect that he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

Your soup has cooled substantially. You shovel a spoonful past your lips, swallowing it with a considerable amount of difficulty. Everyone else has nearly finished their dinner, save for Martin. You want to thrust his face into his bowl—maybe then, he’ll finally shut up.

You lift your wine back up to your mouth. The action draws Martin’s focus. His eyes flit down to your minestrone, and then jump to the other empty dishes around the table. At last, he seems to realise the disparity between your meals,  because a small, sheepish smile creeps onto his face.

“Lord,” he chuckles, settling into the cushion of his chair. “You all must’ve been ravenous. I’ve hardly touched my food.”

“It’s hard to eat whilst boasting, I’d imagine,” you mutter into your glass.

A loud, hacking cough breaks you out of your little bubble. Your head snaps to the left. Harry is choking on his own wine, chiseled cheeks growing red with exertion. He curls his fingers into a firm fist, pounding a few times on his chest to dislodge the liquid stuck in his windpipe. Reflexively, you place a hand on his arm, your forehead wrinkling in concern.

“You alright, H?” Andrew asks, leaning forward over his plate.

“Fine!” Harry croaks. He makes an indiscernible gesture with his hand, waving your brother’s worries away. “I’m fine, thanks. Just went down the wrong way, that’s all.”

He coughs again, burying the sound into the crook of his elbow.

You watch him with troubled eyes. When your gazes lock, only then do you realise that your palm is still splayed out over his bicep. You pull away quickly, recoiling as though you’ve just passed your knuckles through an open flame. Harry’s body rumbles as he clears his throat. He hooks two fingers into the collar of his button-up, loosening it from where it’s secured tightly around his neck.

Lydia is talking, now, but her declarations fade into the background. You wish that you could concentrate on them—you really do—but you have more far more pressing matters at hand.

Like Harry shooting you a swift, secretive smile, and every piece of the puzzle clicking perfectly into place.

His unassuming sip…your quiet quip…

He’d heard you.

You sit back in your seat, your ears ringing. Harry places one of his hands on the wooden arm of his chair; his knuckles flex painstakingly. Across the table, Andrew and Lydia have resumed their lively conversation. Martin scarfs down the rest of his soup, trying to catch up. The candlesticks perched between your plates melt slowly, a mess of waxy dribbles and drops.

Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, you become aware that—for the first time tonight—no one is paying you any attention. The realisation makes you feel giddy, drunk on power and anonymity.

Or maybe that’s just the wine.

You peer down at Harry’s nails, studying them absentmindedly—they’ve been scrubbed clean.

And before you can even begin to register what on earth you’re doing, you reach out, tracing the veins on the back of his hand with one finger. Harry tenses; his concentration immediately falls to where you’re touching him. When you finally muster enough confidence to meet his gaze, you find him watching you with wide, awestruck eyes.

A small part of you is smug—that’s the reaction you’d been searching for at the beginning of the evening.  That’s how you’d wanted him to look at you when you made your entrance, wrapped up in a pretty black gown and layers of opaque red lipstick.

You cease your movements and retract your arm, tucking it back against your side as you turn your interest elsewhere. In the periphery of your vision, Harry has pinned you with an unwavering, stunned expression, his body rooted in place. Despite the rapid thumping of your heart, you keep your gaze trained ahead and your chin held high, pride swelling in your abdomen like a hot-air balloon.  

Lydia laughs at something that Andrew says. Martin tugs haughtily at the lapels of his suit. You release a heavy exhale and nudge your bowl a few inches away from your chest, completely sated.

~*~

Once everyone retires to their rooms for the evening, you wait approximately an hour before slipping out. You’re light on your feet, sneaking past Lydia’s quarters and the guestroom that was given to Martin for the duration of his stay. He snores—quite loudly, too. You can hear him as though he’s right next to you, even from where you’re hovering out in the hall.

You make your way down the spiral staircase, heading toward the large double doors leading to the backyard. You quickly tug on a delicate pair of slippers before sneaking out into darkness’ cool embrace. Midnight is only a few minutes away.

You pull your wool cardigan a bit tighter around your torso. The hem of your silk nightgown is shorter than that of a standard dress. The wind nips teasingly at your knees, making you shiver. Blades of grass tickle your ankles as you march toward the stables. There’s a single light hanging above the entrance, bathing the wooden panes in a faint yellow glow. Green grass gives way to dry soil and the odd piece of straw littered across the dirt.

Inside the stables, only two of the six pens are occupied. The first one houses Apollo, Andrew’s stallion. His skin is like chestnuts, his mane the colour of the sun. You’re sure that your brother will take him out early tomorrow morning—you doubt that he was able to find many docile steeds in the bustling streets of New York.

You bypass Apollo completely, stopping in front of your horse—Artemis.

She’s a sight to behold, white skin and jet-black hair. She reminds you of the first snowfall of the season: crisp and pure, untainted by footprints and pollution and everything else in between. She’s been your partner in crime for the past decade, even though you’ve spent the last few years simply guiding her along with your feet on the ground and a hand tangled in her reins.

Somewhere beneath the rational layer of your brain, you like to think that she sympathizes with your hesitation to get back on the saddle.

“Psst!” you hiss, leaning against the wooden gate of her pen. “Artemis! Come here, my love.”

She lifts her head up from the floor, chewing on a handful of hay. You dig your fingers into the material of your cardigan, producing a sugar cube from the depths of your left pocket. Artemis’ nostrils flare as you hold it out in your palm; she trots over happily, drawn to the sweet treat.

“Haven’t come to visit you in a few days,” you murmur as she dips her mouth against your hand. You stroke your knuckles down the side of her neck, petting her softly. “I’m sorry about that. Things have been so chaotic back at the house. I’ve barely gotten a moment to breathe.”

She whinnies quietly.

“Did you miss me?” you ask. When she nuzzles her nose into your arm, you smile. “I missed you, too. I thought that maybe you were developing a preference for Lydia. But that’s not possible, is it? I’m your favourite.”

Someone clears their throat from behind you. You gasp and whip around, hands flying to your chest. Your gaze locks onto an amused smirk and a pair of impish green eyes, and your stomach lurches uneasily.

“Hello,” you stammer, air caught in your lungs.

“Hello,” Harry replies.

He’s still dressed in his attire from dinner, though his appearance is significantly more relaxed. He’s abandoned the white bowtie and undone the top two buttons of his shirt, allowing his collarbones to peek out from beneath the pallid fabric. The cuffs of his suit have been rolled up, and his hair has completely fallen from its acute coif. Glossy strands tumble down around his temples, curling in a way that makes you want to reach out and touch them.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. You hope that he doesn’t hear the twinge of embarrassment in your voice. He caught you in the middle of a one-sided conversation with your horse, after all.

Harry holds up his hand. There’s a pale pink envelope clutched between his fingers.

“Post,” he says, like it’s the only reasonable explanation. It is, you suppose. “I was on my way home when I spotted you.”

Home. The little cottage just down the trail—the groundskeeper’s residence. It was built years ago, only a few acres away from the main house. You pass it sometimes when you take Artemis out for a walk. More often than not, you’ve found yourself studying its red bricks and white windowsills, yearning for a peek inside.

“Are you alright?” Harry asks, wrenching you from your thoughts.

“Yes.” You nod, blinking twice. “Your letter—,��� you say, desperate to change the subject. “—who is it from?”

And you immediately want to sink into the earth, because it’s none of your bloody business, is it? You have no right to be poking around and questioning him about his personal life. A slight grimace tugs at the corners of your lips, smearing a pained expression across your features.

But Harry just hums, unperturbed by your inquiry.

“My sister,” he tells you, shrugging. “She writes to me from Paris.”

He has a sister?

“Paris,” you echo dumbly. “France?”

His lips twitch. You want to set yourself on fire.

“Does she like it?”

“I think so,” he says, watching you with twinkling eyes. “She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m—” He hesitates, looking away. “Well, I won’t bore you with the details.”

And though he hadn’t let the words slip out, you know exactly what he meant to say.

She wants me to visit her soon, but I’m stuck here.

A pang of guilt ricochets through your chest. Blood thunders in your ears as you direct your attention to the ground, kicking at the dirt below your slippers. You suddenly realise that whilst Harry is fully clothed, you’re dressed in nothing but a flimsy silk nightgown. You wrap your arms around your torso, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your knuckles.

“Er—”

You glance up at Harry when the awkward noise falls from his mouth. “Yes?”

He lifts his chin and gestures toward Artemis, who has returned to her tasty pile of hay. “She belongs to Lydia, does she not?”

“No, actually,” you reply. “Lydia takes her out, typically, but…she’s mine.”

“I see.” His face renders an innocent type of curiosity, one eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “Do you ride?”

You balk, nearly choking on your own saliva. “I beg your pardon?”

And just like that, the innocence is gone. Harry’s features melt into a portrait of wicked mirth. His irises glint roguishly as he fixes you with a shrewd, crafty smirk.

“The horse,” he says slowly, his tone ripe with amusement. “Do you ride?”

“Oh,” you croak. “Sorry, I—”

Your nostrils flare as you avert your eyes, too humiliated to meet his gaze. He’s aware of the way in which you interpreted his question. He understands why you were so appalled. He knows exactly where your mind went.

“No,” you answer quickly. “I don’t. Not anymore, at least.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, confused.

“How long has it been?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you mount.”

“I stopped a few months before you came to work for us,” you say, playing with a loose thread hanging from your cardigan. After a beat of silence, you add, “There was…an incident. I fell.”

“Oh.” He recoils slightly, taken aback by your revelation. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s alright.” Your feet scuffle against the dusty ground. “Sometimes, I catch myself longing for it, but I just—” You shrug. “I can never seem to get back on.”

“I understand.” His response is excruciatingly sincere.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye. He takes an experimental step forward, gauging your reaction. When you don’t make a move to retreat, he does it again. You chew on the inside of your cheek as he draws nearer, and your heart stutters beneath your ribs when he angles his body to the side, offering you his arm.

“May I walk you back?”

Is there a hint of fondness in his voice, or is it merely your imagination?

“You may,” you concede weakly.

You slide your hand into the crook of his elbow and bid Artemis goodnight. The two of you stroll back up to the estate in silence, enjoying the tranquility of the evening. The wind whistles through the thicket of trees lining the edge of the property. Crickets chirp loudly, seeking shelter between blades of grass. Harry’s body is unbelievably warm, radiating heat despite the slight chill carried by nightfall.

You release his arm once you reach the steps of the back porch. He studies you carefully as you climb the first two stairs, a divot digging into the space between his brows.

All of a sudden, you pause, brought to a standstill by an invisible string. You spin back around, looking down and finding a pair of bright jade eyes in the dark.

“Goodnight, Harry,” you say softly, hands dropping to your sides.

Quicker than a bolt of lightning, he seizes your fingers between his. A faint gasp leaves your mouth when he bows forward and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Harry peers up at you innocuously, pulling his lips away from your skin after a long moment of stillness.

“Goodnight, miss,” he says. The words flow over you like molasses, viscous and warm and inconceivably sweet. “Sleep tight.”

~*~

PART II: The Week

PART III: The Month

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[athera]

(Moonsun) My Mommy

Warnings: 18+, Anal, overstimulation, S&M, spanking (pussy and ass), facefucking, toys, aftercare, honestly this is 2000 words of pure filth but enjoy.

Moonbyul POV

I've been testing Yongsun's patience all day today, with small arguments, and shoves and overall being a brat. But when I started a fight in front of our dance team  I clearly made her the most angry in a long time. She took off my shirt and bra before she pushed me over the counter angrily and put her hand in my hair, holding my cheek against the hard cold counter. She had me in the perfect position with my ass sticking out to her, she began to spank my ass. She was really mad this time, she wasn't holding back at all, it hurt even over the fabric of my jeans. I started to groan as tears came to my eyes, however I could also feel a sudden wetness in my underwear.

"Who am I?" She said to me in a low voice with an undertone of lust.

"Leader.." I replied to her, knowing it wasn't what she wanted to hear, I wanted to push her. It worked. She pulled my pants down and brought her hand down on my underwear-clad ass three times so hard I could hear the echo throughout her apartment. I let out a scream mixed with a moan and felt my pussy gush.

"Try again." Her voice was so demanding I felt myself fall into a submissive state, I felt like I had to obey her commands. I whispered below my breath what she wanted to hear.

"Mommy.." She spanked me once again.

"Speak up."

"Mommy!" I screamed as she delivered another hard slap to my ass.

"That's right. It's Mommy to you." She spanked me over and over, her strength was unrelenting and I could hear each spank ring out. "You naughty little girl. Your cunt is soaking through your underwear, do you like this?" I whimpered as she landed two more harsh spanks on my stinging butt.

"Yes Mommy." I whispered.

"How many times do I have to tell you to speak up." She leaned over my ear to whisper lowly as she ran her nails down my ass.

"I'm sorry! Yes Mommy!" I yelled out against the counter. Her grip on my head wasn't letting up, a sign of exactly how angry I made her.

"Clearly, you're enjoying this, you're a little masochist, finding your pleasure through pain, constantly pushing me and arguing with me in front of others." Yongsun spanked me once with every little phrase or point she made. "It's a shame you can't see your ass, so pink it's almost red. I can't wait to see you try and sit down later." She spanked my ass once more before grabbing a fistful of hair tightly and pulling me up, she dragged me into her room and pushed me onto her bed. Yongsun put me on my back and pushed my legs up and down so my feet were beside my head. She basically folded my body in half and pushed my butt up with a pillow under me. I knew to hold my legs in the position she put me in. She could clearly see my stinging ass and both holes. In this position I could see myself as well, Yongsun was right, my ass was bright pink. I was completely on display and I felt myself falling deeper into submission.

Yongsun walked away for a moment, but I knew not to move. When she came back she was holding a large black buttplug, it was about 5 inches and could vibrate, and I could see she had put on the thick 8in strap on. My clit twitched and could feel it as my underwear stuck to my pussy. She grabbed a pair of scissors in her nightstand and started to cut my underwear off.

"You won't be needing this anymore. At least not when you're here." Yongsun pulled it off me and started to lubricate the buttplug with my juices. She pulled away and spanked my soaked cunt twice, before rubbing it with the plug again. I flinched in pleasure and pain and she did that three more times, and my clit was aching, before she started to push the big plug in my asshole. I whined and moaned the entire time pushed it in.

It definitely wasn't the first time, but the stretch of my anus is always so good, of course it hurts but in the best way. She was teasing my clit so gently it was almost torture, but the pleasure from my clit and the pain from my ass was a perfect mix. She got to the widest part of the plug, the end, and forcefully pushed it in completely within an instant. I gasped and she immediately went back to spanking my pussy and clit roughly.

"Ah! Mommy! More!" I could barely speak through all the sensations. I love the intense feelings I was experiencing through my nether regions.

"Such. A. Bad. Girl." She accentuated each word with another slap on my cunt. "Getting so horny from being spanked on your ass and your pussy, what a slut." On the word "and" Yongsun smacked my pussy the hardest time so far, I felt myself come undone and it took everything in me not drop my legs as I screamed in pleasure.

"Oh my, did you really just cum from this? This is a punishment and yet you enjoyed yourself enough to cum like that? You really are a masochistic slut." She pinched my clit and started pushing the buttplug in and out, fucking my ass with it. "You didn't even ask for permission to cum. Now you've given me more reason to punish you. Even though I'm sure you'll enjoy it, was this what you wanted? To be punished? Of course you did."

My clit was so sensitive from being slapped and my orgasm, having it pinched made me feel completely overstimulated but it feels heavenly. I don't want it to end, Yongsun is right, I'm such a masochistic slut, but only for her. Only for my mommy.

Mommy pushed the plug in completely again and pulled the pillow out from under me, then she lined up her strap on with my practically dripping pussy. She rubbed the outside with it and made sure to tease my throbbing clit with the tip for a minute. And finally, she thrust it all in my cunt with a single movement, her hips meeting my stinging pink ass. I couldn't do anything but scream and moan as I saw Mommy's fake cock pierce my body in an instant. It was all I needed to cum again, that single thrust mixed with the full sensation in my ass and pussy. Yongsun saw me cum again without permission and so she pinched my clit hard again while I came, I was lost in the pleasure and pain and I never wanted it to end. Even as I came down from my high, her fingers stayed pinching my sensitive clit.

"You fucking slut, cumming the second I thrust into your pussy, it was so wet it went in so easily and quickly that I didn't even use much force. But this is your second time cumming without permission from your Mommy. I would pull out and spank you but we already that'll make you cum too. What am I supposed to do with such a slut? Hmm, maybe I should just make you cum over and over until even you can't stand it anymore. How many times would that be? Knowing how much you like pain it'd probably be about 5-10 times? Who knows but if you keep cumming like that we'll find out soon enough." Her grip on my clit was strong and she started to move and twist her fingers while she never let up on the pressure. She kept it up even when she began to thrust inside my pussy. Mommy would pull out to the top slowly and pound back in quickly, making my cunt feel empty and then full within seconds over and over again. Every time her hips met ass, the force would make a slapping sound similar to my spanking, and with how hard she spanked me earlier it felt like another hit every single thrust. I could also feel Mommy's strap on hitting deep inside, it could probably hit my cervix if she wanted it to and I was sure she knew that. It took me at most two minutes before I was cumming again. Mommy was right the overstimulation was perfect for me.

"That's three." She let go of my clit and brought her hands up and leaned over me. She removed my hands from legs and used them to keep herself stable on top of me, which meant they were completely pushed into the mattress next to my head,  and I could feel it now. Mommy's 8in cock has finally reached my cervix and was right against it. She instructed me to put my hands behind my back. Then she began to pound my pussy and from this angle Yongsun's cock could push against my cervix with every thrust. I began to drool and I was a moaning horny mess. I came again quickly, but this time she refused to stop thrusting. And she kept going throughout my orgasm.

“Four.” She sped up. I was so overstimulated I came again almost immediately, squirting around her strap on. Again she left me to ride out my orgasm as she kept thrusting.

“Five.” She pulled out and I let out a whine. Yongsun climbed up my body and turned around so she was facing my sore, well-fucked pussy, while I had clear view her pussy and strap on. She took my hands out from under me and made me hold my aching legs open again, as she angled her strap on covered in my juices towards my mouth. I didn’t hesitate to take it in. She found the best angle and began to facefuck me while I could taste myself. She began to alternate between rubbing my clit and spanking it. I was in paradise, this is exactly what I wanted, to be a total slut for Mommy. My ass was full, my cunt was empty but sore and sensitive, my clit was just an overstimulated mess, and I was being facefucked by her 8in cock. I squirted again as she delivered a particularly hard smack directly on my clit.

“Six. You look so pretty like this, it’s a shame you can’t be a good girl for me but I do love to try and fuck you into one.” She stopped thrusting in my mouth and left her cock as deep inside as she could, 7in of her cock was in my throat. She sat up and on my face as she took her time to look for and grab her phone. Meanwhile I was breathing in her delicious scent. She pointed it at my face and began thrusting again. She was taking a video. Yongsun pulled out completely as she finished the video. She got off of me and took many pictures of my bare and fucked body.

Then she put my legs down flat on the bed, they were extremely sore and my stinging ass hurt against the fabric but I didn’t mind. She pulled me in for a kiss and stroked my hair lovingly.

“Are you okay?” She was always extremely worried after having sex like that, even if her sadistic side comes out really well.

“I’m okay, I feel amazing actually.” I replied best I could, my throat felt dry though. “Can I have some water?”

“Of course love.” She went out and quickly returned with a tall glass of water and in her other hand was a soothing cream. She helped me drink some water and then flipped me over gently.

“Yong, you don’t have to it’s not that bad.”

“What do you mean “not that bad”! It’s practically red and I can still see my handprints. It must hurt.”

“I like it though..” I said lightly.

“Well, no matter how much of a masochist you might be, we still have to go to work tomorrow and you can’t be walking funny in public.”

I sighed, I knew she was right and she began to generously apply cream on my ass and apparently she had also grabbed a gel for muscle pain that I didn’t see, and she applied it on the back of my thighs, massaging it deeply. She always took amazing care of me afterwards, one of the reasons I love her so much. She left me on my stomach for a bit while the cream and gel did their thing while she came up to lay next to me, giving me kisses and stoking my hair after she wiped my face clean from drool and my own “liquids” with a wet towel.

“Do you want me to take out the plug or leave it in until you sleep?”

“In please, and can you start the vibrations?”

“Sure baby.” Yongsun turned on the vibrations to low-medium, for some reason the feeling made it easier to sleep.

No more than 10 minutes later I felt myself drifting into sleep as she had an arm wrapped around my neck pulling me into her chest.

“I love you.” I whispered faintly.

“I love you too baby.” She continued to stroke my hair as I fell asleep with the person I loved most next to me.

[wolfish-trickster]

Old oak tree

Loki x female!reader

Word count: 2,3K+

Warning: typos, angst, itsi bitsi fluff at the end

Tag list: @gaitwae @lucywrites02 @hard-to-be-the-bard @birdgirl90 @laramoonworld @forevernthensome @kozkaboi

"So, what do you think?" Loki asked spreading his arms and showing you his new outfit.

You shrugged. "Looks good to me."

"Don't you think it's too much?" he checked himself in your mirror.

"Is anything EVER too much for you?" you asked with a smirk.

"I just...I really like her and I don't want to mess up."

"You won't, trust me," you reassured him.

He hugged you tightly, to your surprise. "What would I do without such a friend like you?"

The younger prince bolted from your room faster than you could answer. You sighed and closed the doors after him so no one could hear your heart breaking, again.

You and Loki were friends. Best friends actually. But you started to to see him more than that years ago. And you hated it.

You already accepted the fact he'll see you as only his supportive friend. If only he could stop asking you to help him woo his love interests. He always asked your opinion on everything. Flowers, his outfits, gifts he wanted to give them.

Once he even asked to kiss you so he could practice. It was in general your and his first kiss ever. Your head spinned when your life long best friend and crush in one person gently placed his lips on yours, his tongue sliding to your mouth. When he pulled away he just mumbled simple 'thanks' and ran away, leaving you flustered and with a face on fire under your favourite tree. At first you often sat under that old oak, remembering the feeling and smiling to yourself. However with every new interest of Loki you started to avoid the poor tree. Hate it even. You hated how it represented how you foolishly threw away your first kiss.

You still stood by Loki. What else could you do? Confess your feelings? As if that'll help.

You started to see pattern in his interests and you never managed to tic the boxes. You were only average among everything; intelligence, looks, skills. There were hundred and one people who were exactly like you. Loki would never choose you over a noble woman or man he was used to courting.

Now, when you were finally alone, you could think about what are you going to do about your never ending crush. You layed down on your bed and stared at your white ceiling. You already tried to avoid him in hopes you will loose your feelings for him, that didn't work. You wrote down every negative thing about him, trick your mind he isn't a good boyfriend material. Didn't work either since he is the kindest person you've ever met. And the gentlest. And nicest. With the most beautiful smile and eyes. And arms that give the coziest hugs.

"Fuck," you whispered and closed your eyes. It always ended like this. No matter how much you tried, you could never see him as something less than a great person he was.

Suddenly you heard his melodic laughter under your windows. As well as some girl's. You couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what? If he can date around, so can I!" you told yourself in pure desperation to get rid of the jealousy and pain from knowing he will never love you.

First thing you did was hiding everything he gave you as a child, every little trinket you cherished in false thought he's starting to catch feelings for you. You removed all of it from your shelves and put in a big box sliding it under your bed.

There, now onto the more complicated part: the oak of your very first kiss. Your heart ached with every step you took towards it. It was already old and not so full of life like it used to be. Its bark was dry and overgrown with moss. The poor thing didn't have enough energy to grow its leaves as viscoulsy like few years ago. No one visited it anymore. It was lonely just like you.

"Looks like you're few years from death, old buddy," you patted its trunk. "Let's end your missery now."

*

You were on your way back to your room holding a little pot filled with soil. Nothing was growing out yet, but in few months you were expecting a small oak sappling to grow. You couldn’t say goodbye to your old wooden friend just yet.

There, deep in halls, sounds are resonating. Sounds you soon came to hate. Kissing, Loki chuckling, some woman moaning, door closing.

You sadly looked down at the pot and took the biggest diversion to your room, avoiding coming any near Loki's bedroom.

*

Few days later you still avoided Loki. That time was the first time he had brought anyone to his bedroom to do....that. It was good he didn't ask you to practice on you. If he did, you would've.... you don't know what would you do. Probably panic first and get angry next.

While Loki was, let's say, occupied you got closer to one soldier, Arne. He was kind, tall, ginger with freckles and very skilled fighter. He wasn't the smartest but he had a sense of humor and always tried to make you laugh. He wasn't Loki though, but it didn't matter. At least you kept yourself busy, so your heart could heal.

Right now you were in stables with Arne. He was telling you how he got his first horse when he finished his soldier training few decades back. You were braiding his mare's mane as he stood right beside you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. Everything was at peace.

"Y/N! Y/N, WHERE ARE YOU?" came Loki's voice.

Almost everything.

You turned your head towards his voice. He was rushing towards you until he stopped when he noticed Arne standing so close to you.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked a little irritated.

"Well-"

"It doesn't matter, I have to show you something," he took you by the hand and started dragging you out of the stables only for you to slip your hand from his and hugging Arne. "See you tomorrow," you waved him goodbye and walked out, Loki trailing after you.

"So, what is it you wanted to show me?"

"What the Hel was that?" he pointed at you and behind him at the stables, completely ignoring your question.

"A hug. Why?"

"Since when are you hugging random soldiers? And since when are you even hanging out with low ranking soldiers like Hofferson?"

"His first name is Arne, and I'm allowed to hug whoever I want. Same goes for hanging out. Now are you going to show me the thing or can I return to him?"

"Right," he remember, took your hand again and ran to gardens. To the familiar now empty corner. "Look what some bastard did," he pointed at the wide oak stump.

"Yeah, I know."

"You do? Oh, darling," he threw his arms around you. You fought with yourself internally to not hug him back, but being close to him after a very long time felt just too good not to give in.

"I'm so sorry. I know it was your favourite tree. I will find the culprit and-"

"You don't have to," you interrupted and pulled yourself away from him.

"I do! That tree meant a lot to me too. I was actually working on a spell to bring life into it again."

"And how exactly did it mean a lot to you? I never saw you even near that tree."

Loki stuttered. "E-ehm, we had our first kiss underneath it."

"As if that meant anything to you," you muttered.

"What?"

"I said it was old and it had to be cut down."

"Well you could've asked me before you killed it," he spat rather angrily.

"My family planted it, I get to do whatever I want with it!"

"Did it mean so little to you?"

"No. On the contrary, it meant the world to me! That's why I had to cut it down!"

"What? Why? I don't understand you," he shook his head.

"Well excuse me for wanting to destroy the biggest thing that reminded me how my best friend stole my first kiss!"

"Stole? I asked and you complied!" Loki defended himself.

You groaned. "Okay fine, you didn't steal it, I lost it. Now can I go back to Arne?"

"Lost it?! Have you got any idea how many people would murder for a kiss from a prince? And why do you want to go to Arne so desperatelly? You never talked to soldiers before, so why the change of heart?"

"I like him, he's nice and courageous and-"

"I forbid it."

"What?!" you couldn't believe your ears.

"I forbid it. You can't whore around with soldiers like him, think about your reputation!" he crossed his arms infront of him.

"Whore around? Look who's talking! You've had at least 5 lovers in the past month!"

"T-that's different."

"And how exactly is it different, Loki?"

"I-"

You waited. Nothing came out of him.

"That's what I thought."

*

Few days passed, you continued avoiding Loki and he started to close off from everyone. Occasionally you saw some green sparkles in a shape of a person sitting on the oak stump. You figured that must be Loki under cloaking spell. All you wanted to do was run to him and hug him, he looked so depressed and lonely. Just like you were when you saw him with all those lovers in the past.

You felt bad for him. But you doubted he felt bad for you back then. Or now. So you always walked pass him, pretending you didn't notice him.

*

*knock knock*

You looked up from watering your growing oak sapling. Who could it be? You weren't expecting anyone. "Who's there?"

"Guess," came a dull voice.

You put away your watering kettle and hid the pot behind courtains. "Come in, Loki."

He stepped inside wearing one of his ordinary clothes, his hair wasn't slicked back like he used to style it and he had apologetic expression on his face.

"Y/N, I came to apologize."

Loki is apologizing. Now that's new. "What for?" you asked teasingly.

He sighed. "For saying you were whoring around. It wasn't right from me," he pulled out your favourite flower from behind his back, "friends?"

You took the flower. "Okay, friends."

Loki clapped his hands excitedly. "Great, now that we're at good terms with eachother I-"

"No!" you silenced him. You knew there had to be a catch. He made up with you just so he could ask you for help. Just like always.

"You don't even know what I was about to say."

"Oh, I think I do. You want me to give you advices again. Well, guess what? That's not happening. So you can, as mortals say, do 180 and walk out that door," you pointed behind him to your bedroom door.

Loki held out his hands in surrender. "I wasn't going to ask you that! I just want to talk."

"Oh," now you felt stupid. "Okay, a little talk never killed anyone I guess."

"Thank you," he let his hands fall down and took a walk around your room. "I see you were redecorating," he noticed all of his trinkets he gave you were gone. He assumed you most likely threw them out or burned them. Just the thought of it hurt him.

"Yeah," you hugged your arms to comfort yourself. "I still have them, I just didn't want to look at them anymore."

He turned towards you. "Why? First the tree, then my little gifts. What's next, me?" he joked to ease both your and his growing anxiety.

You chuckled lightly and shook your head. "No, don't worry."

He walked to you and put his hand on your shoulders. "Then why? We're best friends, right? We can tell eachother everything."

"That's exactly what I can't do," you grabbed his hand on your shoulder and slowly removed them.

"Why? Do you... do you hate me?"

"What? Heavens no! I could never hate you!"

He sighed from relief. "Good. But then why? I can't think of a single reason you would do those things. Wait. On a second thought," he held his chin between his thumb and index finger and looked down like he always does when he was thinking. He shook his head then and chuckled to himself. "No, that's absurd. You could never be in love with me."

You involuntarily tensed up. He noticed.

"Or could you?"

Tears started burning in your eyes as you nodded. "Sorry."

"For how long?"

After few minutes of thinking you shook your head. "I don't remember when it happened. It just happened."

"Well, when did you realise then? That you...you know? Are in love with me?"

"Few days before the oak kiss, I guess."

"But that was decades ago! This long time and I never saw," he facepalmed.

"And you...?" you asked hopefully. Maybe he will tell you he loves you too, right?

He sighed. "I'm sorry Y/N. I love you, but not like that. You have always been like a little sister I always wanted."

You nodded. Of course he doesn't love you like that. How even could he? You turned away from him and let some tears escape.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry," he rubbed your back. "We can still be friends. Nothing will change between us. I promise."

But it already did. Everything changed for you. How could you even look him in the eye?

You wiped away your tears and put on a perfectly rehearsed fake smile. "Okay, I can work with that," you offered him your hand, "friends?"

Instead of shaking it he hugged you. "Friends."

You hugged him back and let your fake smile fall. Your naive little self told you he will change his mind in the future. You are already so close with eachother. Closer than anyone you know. It's just a matter of time. For now, you can only dream.