#she may not have won today but she sure as hell didn’t lose

[wherewolf]

the responses i’ve seen to shiv’s ending seem very quick to write her off as just another sad victim of the cycle, which isn’t without truth BUT!!! that is not even remotely the summation of shiv’s story.

i don’t think she votes yes to “save kendall” or to try to finally set her brothers free. and i don’t think her main concern was that ken was becoming their dad. she absolutely noticed and didn’t love it, but that was not her motivation in betraying him. she was thinking about herself.

it’s tempting to make a martyr out of her as she is the only female child and we see her suffer the onslaught of misogyny that comes with that. but to make her into a saintlike figure who got beat takes away the power and intelligence behind her decision.

at this point she’s stuck between two non ideal choices, but she recognizes that they have accidentally made her the single most important player in the game. because while she can’t have the outcome she’d prefer, she has the power to decide the fates of everyone else. the written off lone woman now holds in her hands the fate of every man in her life.

so she thinks about the long term benefits of both options and realizes that one side leaves her completely without any leverage.

her brothers have proven to her multiple times in the last few days alone that they will cut her out and walk all over her the first chance they get. siding with them leaves her nothing to bargain with. she would just have to hope that ken would actually take care of her. and that level of vulnerability is not only unacceptable to her, it’s stupid. and shiv fuckin roy is not stupid.

so she thinks about the other side and about what she actually wants for her life. and against her better judgment, it’s becomes unfortunately clear that she wants tom. the way she wants him is not altogether loving or even good but it is necessary to her. she sees relationships as having winners and losers and she chose this man specifically so that she could be confident in her ability to win. except now he’s grown some balls and made himself unavailable to her.

she may not like the way her husband is evolving but she already placed her bets on him, so she’s sure as hell not losing to him now. there’s also a part of her that feels intrigued by this new man she’s married to. it’s interesting to have a sparring partner in him instead of having to looking for excitement outside of their marriage.

so for maybe the first time ever, she processes what tom has said to her and thinks about what he actually wants.

he needs her to prove that she cares. he needs to know that she is capable of sacrifice. if she can’t find it within herself to do this for him, then she will lose him, and by extension, she will lose.

siding with tom gives her the opportunity to once and for all make a grand-stand gesture of love, but more importantly, it creates leverage for her. never again will he be able to hold the moral high ground over her head. never again can he say she doesn’t love him. never again can he call her selfish or uncaring. above all, he can never betray her again, because she just removed all of his moral justification for turning on her. he doesn’t realize it yet, but she’s just taken back all the power in their relationship. just in a more subtle way than she’s used to operating.

and just like that, she has the ceo of a multi billion dollar company in her pocket, while situating herself as the only descendant of logan roy to still be playing the game, having removed her brothers from the equation permanently. she may still be far from the top but she’s creating a path for herself to climb.

so yes, she’ll let tom play king for a day, and she’ll have his baby and say “congratulations,” and play the gracious wife, but tomorrow is a new day with lots of room to maneuver. and when her husband puts out his hand, she’ll place her own on top. but she won’t grasp it because she doesn’t need to.

[broadwaybalogna]

Are you in for a very emotional prompt?

Its a challenge.

Katara learns about Iroh's passing and rushes to the FN to comfort him.

Zuko is a mess.

An absolute mess.

Featuring the turtleducks.

Sorry if this is short. I had a long day but still wanted to write a oneshot for today.

-

The day Katara received a letter from the Fire Nation addressing General Iroh’s passing was the same day she left the Southern Water Tribe and took a ship to said Nation.

Katara went running to the castle the moment her ship docked, and pleaded with the castle guards to let her in, proving her credentials as not only a master waterbender, but as Fire Lord Zuko’s friend.

Her arrival was abrupt at worst, and appreciated at best. The servants in Caldera’s castle led Katara to an empty guest room for her to stay in.

She begged the servants to lead her to Lord Zuko, but they declined each time, insisting that he was in no condition to meet with anyone at the moment.

That’s how Katara found herself wandering the halls of the vast castle alone, looking for Zuko’s room in the endless abyss of the castle.

When she finally came across a door decorated with small murals and various gold linings, she was sure she had found Zuko’s room.

She knocked twice, “Zuko?” She whispered into the large door.

A few moments passed before the door finally cracked open.

“No.”

Katara immediately recognized that voice that came from the other side of the door.

“Princess Azula. I apologize, I was looking for Zuko. I didn’t mean to wake you-“

“You didn’t wake me,” Azula cut Katara off, not caring about what the ladder had to say. Azula opened the door wider, and Katara was surprised at the princesses appearance. Her hair was disheveled and her robes looked like they had been worn for days on end without being washed. She had large eye bags and her shoulders sagged. She was anything but the Azula Katara had grown to appreciate after the hundred year war.

Azula and Katara had become friends of sorts, exchanging letters every now and again. Although Katara and Azula had fought against each other in an Agni Kai, the Princess had learned to respect Katara’s bending and vice versa.

“You look…”

“Terrifying? I’m aware.”

There was a long awkward silence between the two girls.

“May I come in?”

“Sure.” Azula opened the door enough for Katara to walk in.

The room reflected Azula’s appearance perfectly. Clothes were thrown around the room as well as other trinkets that were probably given to her after Iroh’s passing.

Both girls took a seat on Azula’s bed.

Then, with no warning, Azula began to cry. It was a weird cry, a cry she had probably never experienced before. Azula had cried in anger, disgust, hell, even joy, but never greif. Azula placed her head in her hands and hunched over her legs that were firmly stuck to the ground.

Katara took a deep breath and began to rub the princess’s back.

“I wasn’t even that close with him,” she said between cries, “but he always tried to be close to me. Always. It was so annoying.”

Katara didn’t speak, she simply let the younger girl let out her emotions as best as she could.

Once Azula’s cries died down and she was finally coherent again, she spoke.

“Is it wrong that I miss him? I never showed that I so much as liked him. But he was still so good to me and Zuzu.”

“Well, did you love him?”

“Well I mean, family’s family, right? Though that’s a shitty argument to use when you’re from this family. I wouldn’t have loved him if the Fire Nation had won the war, that’s for sure.”

“But the Fire Nation didn’t.”

“So… So I guess I might’ve. He was the only other person besides Zuzu who thought I was capable enough to be better.” She sighed.

“You have every right to grieve. No matter what anyone else says, or what those tiny voices in the back of your head may say.”

Azula sniffled, “thanks.”

“Of course.”

“God, I feel so many emotions right now. I hate it.”

Katara let out a small laugh, “yeah, that’ll happen when you lose a family member.” She thought back to her mother and all of her grief surrounding the woman. She never truly got over her mother’s death, it still haunted her. But she had learned to cope, and that seemed to be enough.

“Zuzu is right down the hall. He has the less fancy door,” Azula pointed in the direction of Zuko’s room from where she was. “He needs all the help he can get.”

“No, I don’t want to leave you alone here. Zuko is no more important than you.”

Azula sighed, “he is right now. He’s doing horrible, Katara. He hasn’t left his room in days, he hasn’t eaten a thing, no one even knows if he’s alive. At least I answer my door, you’re gonna have to kick his down if you want to get in there.”

“Are you sure?” Katara asked, “because I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

“I’ll be fine. Some servant will come in here and give me some ice cream to chow down on soon, so I’m set for the night. It was nice letting that out, though. But don’t you dare tell anyone that happened, or I’ll challenge you to another Agni Kai, and I’ll win.”

Katara smiled. “Okay.”

She walked out of the door with a glass of water in case she needed to break the lock on Zuko’s door. Azula had insisted she would need it.

When she came across the door that could only belong to a Fire Lord, she knocked.

No response.

She knocked again.

“Zuko?” She called, a bit louder than when she was at Azula’s door.

Still nothing.

“Zuko, I have water and can easily get through here if I need to.”

Still nothing.

Katara groaned and took the water that was in the cup Azula gave her. She pushed it under the door and onto the other side of the doorknob before freezing it and breaking it. She pushed the door open to be met with a room that looked like a tornado had gone through it. If Azula’s room was bad, this was catastrophic.

Hundreds of pages of paper were scattered across the room, and a bookshelf had even fallen from the side of one of the walls leaving small wooden shards near it. Mountains of who knows what were everywhere. Katara picked up one of the sheets of paper. The paper was funeral information that had been written then crossed out and written over again before being crumpled and thrown onto the ground. She checked the other sheets of paper to see if they were the same. They were. Each page was filled with possible placed to hold Iroh’s funeral. The fire nation dock, outside near his tea shop, a cathedral. Each one had been exed out and written over with another idea.

Katara continued to scan the room. The only thing Katara couldn’t find was Zuko.

She checked everywhere in the room, but Zuko was no where to be seen. Until, that is, she caught a glimpse of the palace garden from one of Zuko’s windows. The window overlooked a small pond where a young man seemed to be sitting down, motionless. Katara opened the window and called down.

“Zuko?”

The man’s head snapped up and towards Katara. If the large red scar on the man’s face was anything to go by, it was certainly Zuko.

“Katara?” He stammered out, blinking to make sure she was really there.

Katara bender some of the water from the pond to help lower herself onto the garden beneath her.

When she finally reached the ground, she ran to Zuko and engulfed him in a hug.

“I am so, so sorry, Zuko.” She spoke into his ear. He was still sitting on the ground, hunched over the pond, but Katara was on her knees and lowered herself just enough so she was on level with him.

Zuko’s hands slowly made their way around Katara’s back.

“You’re here,” he sighed as he relaxed into her embrace.

“Of course I am.” She responded, hugging him even tighter.

When they finally let go, Katara was able to get a better look at Zuko. His hair was well maintained, which was good, but everything else was terrible. He very clearly hadn’t slept in days, and he wasn’t wearing the crown of the Fire Lord. Had he not spoke or hugged her before, she would have thought he was a corpse.

“What are you doing here?” She asked after a long moment of taking in his figure. Azula was right, he hadn’t eaten since.. well, probably since he got the news.

“I wanted to see the Turtleducks,” he responded, as if it were common knowledge. Katara looked back at the pond to see a small family of Turtleducks swimming around. “Uncle and I would often talk while we fed them.”

Katara took in a deep breath at the mention of Iroh.

“Speaking of,” she slowly started, “how have you been?”

“What does it look like?”

Katara let out another sigh. “I mean in words, Zuko. Have you talked to anyone since- since you heard?”

Zuko swallowed, “no.”

Katara moved to sit closer to the older man, now nearing his mid-twenties. “So tell me. Please, how are you feeling?”

“Katara, I’m feeling terrible. Awful, horrible, every other word under the sun. Is that what you want to hear?”

Katara said nothing, she just waited for him to continue.

There was a very long silence before Zuko spoke again, and it was just barely above a mumble.

“I keep on trying to think about what he would tell me in this sort of situation. But I can’t. It’s all… blank, like I can’t even remember him if he’s not here.”

Katara felt her heard beating in her chest.

“What would be say, Katara? What would he do to make things better?” He spoke louder this time, and he looked into her eyes like he had lost himself, but like when he was sixteen.

“I-“ Katara started, “I don’t know.” She answered as honestly as possible.

“Then why the hell are you even here!?” He yelled as he stood up from beside the pond. Katara followed in suit.

“I’m here for you, Zuko,” She explained as calmly as possible, albeit upset about Zuko’s outburst.

“You can’t help me, Katara. No one can. Not unless they can bring him back. And not even your magic northern water tribe water would be able to do that.”

Katara stood just a foot away from Zuko. The hurt in his eyes were beyond what Katara had seen before. He looked so tired, tired of everything.

Zuko wasn’t normally one to let himself go in fear of letting down his nation, but this was different. This was far beyond ‘personal’, this was the person that shaped Zuko to be everything he was. Every piece of Zuko’s identity had been reconstructed with the help of his Uncle while he was out looking for the avatar, and even when he took over as Fire Lord.

There was something so terrifying about losing the once person who knew everything about you, and that fear had come true.

“You’re right,” Katara finally said, “no one can bring him back. No one can even come close. But I know that right now he’s looking down on you from the spirit realm waiting for you to realize that the only direction you can move is forward. You’ve spent too long working to make your life everything it is, both you and your uncle. You can’t throw that away, not now and not ever.” Katara paused, reaching for the right words to say, “We’ll never truly get over his passing, at least I don’t think. I never got over my mother’s, and neither did Sokka. But each time I look at him I see her, and I see her legacy, her love and pride, and it makes me remember to continue.”

Zuko lowered himself back down beside the pond and Katara did too. Slowly, she moved to sit beside him then take his head in her arm and lay it against her shoulder.

“Please sleep,” she pleaded, “we all need you to sleep.”

Zuko didn’t say anything, but he closed his eyes.

Katara looked over at the Turtleducks in the small pond as they swam.

She looked back to Zuko, then the Turtleducks.

Here.

This is where his funeral would be.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, AUGUST 31, 2003 Two Divas down, one more to go in the series. Yes, I won the doll! I’m actually quite happy about it too rather than bummed because I’m not in as much debt as I thought I’d be. Only about $14, and assuming his mom gives Tom her famous $20 bill, I’ll be just $4 in debt. Anyway, if I thought getting a $55 diva for $30 was a great deal, this one’s even greater at just $20! I can’t believe I got a total of 10 Barbies on their way to me for just $35! The set of 9 is coming from an individual in CT and the black Gone Platinum doll’s coming from CA. So, there are just two more Barbies I want, unless I spot another grab bag for sale and or auction like I did with the set of 9. If they’re in good condition and are dressed in the types of outfits I like, I may go for it. It’s a lot of fun. I was really surprised not to find an email waiting for me when I got up saying I’d been outbid.

I’m going to be pissed if Mary doesn’t call soon. She, Dave, Mom, Bobby and Maria were to meet at the casino today, then call Tom when they were leaving so he could go visit. To stand him up would be really rude. Much ruder than it was when they couldn’t even do a simple little thing like I asked and email me about the damn beauty supplies.

The bitch is still having her many illnesses and injuries, and Mary’s not like Tammy. Meaning, she’s no hypochondriac. I know for sure she’s had the shingles like she told Tom she did and has been really sickly and I know why, too.

I think the mesquite tree has finally begun to grow, but I don’t think it’ll grow many feet a year.

We agreed to set a deadline on whether or not we do more work on the front and back doors to lessen their leaks. They’re shit doors we never should’ve gotten so we could never make them 100% leak-proof. Anyway, the plan is to work on them if we don’t have porches by then which means we’ll be working on them in January since our plans rarely work out.

I’m so pissed because I’m up to 129 pounds. Most people’s problem is that they can’t lose weight and that I could live with, but I can’t stop gaining! So now I’m forced to go on a diet and go hungry so I don’t end up gaining hundreds of pounds. I hate this forced diet thing! If we’re supposed to have free will in this life, then where’s mine? Losing weight has gotten harder and harder. It’ll take me a month of struggling to get down to 125, then in a few days, I’ll be right back up to where I am. Getting down to 120 is now virtually impossible for me. They weren’t kidding when they said it gets harder with age. I didn’t believe it because most people tend to exaggerate, but this is no exaggeration! So I’ll try to limit my calories to 1200 a day and walk a half hour or more a day along with my weight-lifting I do 2-3 times a week.

As for sex, well, like I said it’s being put off till the last minute. It bothers me too, as it makes me feel like I’m the lowest priority and this is what dampens my own appetite. Who knows, maybe we won’t do anything at all, and if we do, it wouldn’t surprise me if we do just manual and oral stuff which Tom will call “getting back into the swing of things,” then end up never screwing. To tell you the truth, I can’t say I’d be bummed out if we didn’t. I hate that starting-all-over-again feeling! It does not tickle.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 30, 2003 My first diva doll came today! She’s way nice.

I also won 9 Barbies for just $15.50! This isn’t from a store, though. It’s from an individual in Enfield, CT. She’s been an eBay member since ’99 and has no negative feedback, so I’d say she’s trustworthy. These aren’t new, boxed Barbies. They’re from her daughter’s collection, but she says they’re in good condition. It looks like all but two are dressed. I’ll describe them when I get them. Even if I ended up liking only a few of them, it’d still be a hell of a deal. I think I’ll like more than that, though.

eBay’s so much fun that who knows when I’ll start saving for the expensive dolls again? I’ll get back to them one of these days. There’s no hurry.

Once again, though, I hope I lose the other auction I bid on. Boy, was I dumb on that one! As for the other diva I want, well, I bid on the CA diva this morning before thinking to check if the NM was bid on or bought because if I’d checked and found that it had a bid like it was, I’d have just gone and bought the CA one. Once a bid’s been placed, though, the ‘buy it now’ option usually goes away.

If I win this, I’ll go from being glad I lost to being pissed I won and back in debt again, too! I only have $20 right now.

Anyway, there are a few more Barbies I really want, and then I’ll get off the Barbie trip and start saving for the nice porcelains.

No knockers today. Guess that means they’re going to return on Tuesday, but at least Tom’s right about them not being pigs. Pigs don’t take weekends off.

Tom’s going to make attempt number 10 to see his mother tomorrow, and then the next day, the shooters will be at it again during the daylight till around April.

I’m still managing my day schedule, though I sure wish I could sleep till I wake up on my own tomorrow. Can’t do that, though. If I do, I’ll end up sleeping till 11:00 which means I won’t get to sleep before 3 AM which means I’ll have to get up just 5 hours later and that’d be a bit hard on me.

Tom mentioned us “getting active” again but knowing him he’s going to put it off till the last minute which would mean late afternoon on Monday. One of the things that bored me to tears in the past when it came to sex was the predictability. It was always at the end of the weekend, just a few hours before he’d go to bed.

Although I’m still working out to keep strong and fit, I’ve given up on dieting. You have to have a metabolism if you’re going to go on a weight-loss diet. There’s really no other way around it. Trying to lose more than a few pounds with no metabolism would be like trying to drive a car with no gas.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 29, 2003 Again the door knocker came. This time it was just before 2:00. For a moment I was tempted to settle my curiosity and see who they were and what they wanted, but decided against it. If I am about to be framed again by our Jew-hating wacko blackos, let them either kick their way in or leave a calling card of some kind. The fact that they haven’t left a business card or a note of any kind is what worries me.

They knocked with a cop’s knock – loud, long and persistent, though they did give up quicker than yesterday. They knocked on the front door, went around to the side, then returned to knock again on the front door before leaving. It was the same vehicle, but it may’ve been a different guy. Yesterday’s guy was grayer with jeans and a T-shirt. This one, who appeared to be in his late 30s to early 40s was dressed up a little more in beige shorts, shoes with socks, and a short-sleeved shirt with a few buttons in front. They carried nothing in their hands this time. This gives me a little bit of hope that it’s not someone up to no good. If they were taking me to court again on more bogus charges, wouldn’t the person be holding a subpoena? And if it was a detective, wouldn’t they have left a card? They couldn’t call us so easily because we don’t have our old phone number and cell phone numbers aren’t so easy to get. You can’t look them up in phone books or call information for them.

I just hope this and the loud music I’ve been hearing at night aren’t nasty omens of trouble to come! I can’t shake the feeling that something doesn’t want me here and that it wants me in places I don’t want to be, with absolutely no control whatsoever. Past patterns worry me, too. Meaning, God doesn’t give me much more than a few months between long-term problems and I feel like these people are going to haunt me forever. Even if I never see them again, as long as I live here where they know where I am, I’m always going to jump out of my skin when someone comes knocking. I hope I’m just being paranoid, but I can’t help but wonder about all kinds of horrible scenarios like the pig erasing all forms of documentation saying I’m off probation, making me look like an absconder. I don’t think he could do that and if he could, I have my own documentation, along with Scot’s word. I just don’t want any hassles! The question is, are they going to return tomorrow or next week? They acted as if they knew someone was home, but then again, the truck out there would give that impression there might be. I don’t know, it’s just that people like JO and JN don’t give up. They just don’t know the meaning of the word quit! If this is connected to them in any way, then I’m 100% right when I say there’s no end to their shit. Especially as long as I live in Arizona.

I try to console myself with the fact that I didn’t do anything, but I also didn’t do anything in the past either, but send some journals with a piece of my mind enclosed. How was I to know the pig was friends with her and would fabricate other evidence which, unlike the journals, would be incriminating in this state? That’s the whole problem right there. If they can stalk and harass me through the courts once, I’m sure they can do it again. And white undercovers would be exactly what they’d send out too, if this is connected to my enemies. If they have any sense, then they should know I now know that uniforms mean deception and trouble and they certainly wouldn’t send any non-whites out by themselves.

I hope I can convince Tom not to open the door if they come back tomorrow. Unless they come when he’s outside being a slave to the vehicles, of course. It’s just that I don’t want to make it easy for anyone with bad intentions of any kind.

Who knows, maybe they really are some seriously lost handymen, though I’d think they’d have figured out by now where the hell they’re supposed to go.

For a brief moment, I wondered if it could be the guy who came to question us about buying property around here, but I think that guy was taller and skinnier. However, his knock wasn’t like it was when he came to talk to us and what the hell would he want with us this desperately?

Could it be connected to his suit against the bank? Teddy Bear?

I looked through the binoculars and haven’t yet been able to spot a dark red pickup in front where they’re still drilling unless it’s parking where I can’t see it from here.

Anyway, my guess is that they’ll be done drilling today, but we’ll see. I just wish it was two hours from now when Tom will be home! I left him a message, though, just in case anything happened to me, though I don’t think I have to worry about any physical harm coming to either one of us. I hope not! I mean, this man looked like I could take him with one arm tied behind my back, but if he pulled a gun on me that’d obviously change really fast.

Later…

My doll hasn’t arrived yet. With my shit luck, it’ll arrive tomorrow and not be in the locker, so I end up having to wait till Tuesday, since Monday’s Labor Day.

Anyway, Tom says it’s definitely not pigs knocking on the door and is sure that they’d come in marked cars with a bogus story just like before if they were to come out. He thinks they’ll come out again tomorrow, so we’ll find out what the hell they want then. It could be anything from them seeing we started to put up a fence and wanting us to hire them to finish it, to something about the neighborhood. I wish to hell we could have fences, but I’ve already accepted the fact that we never will.

Today Tom’s mom is 80 years old. I wonder if Art and Doe sent her a birthday card? I still can’t believe Mom would be so cold as to correspond with them after I asked her not to and told her I’d had a lot of problems with them. If someone I cared about asked me not to bother with someone who had hurt them, then I wouldn’t. It’s not like they’re buddies anyway, and as her daughter-in-law, I’m the one she should be respecting, not them. It’s okay, though. She can’t have that many years left and then we’ll be a little richer. I just wish she didn’t have so many kids!

My current auction plans are to try to bid a buck on the one in California that’s starting bid is at $14.99 and ends Sunday. If I lose, I’ll just buy the one in New Mexico outright for $15.99 +$6.50 s/h. This one doesn’t end till Tuesday, so hopefully no one will bid on it come Sunday.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 28, 2003 I had a little scare at 11:00 this morning when there was a knock at the door while I was at the computer. They not only knocked long, loud, and as persistently as a cop, they knocked on all 3 doors! Naturally, in light of all I’ve been through, I thought the freeloaders were up to no good again. Remembering how I feared they’d pull something before or after the end of the probation, I thought, oh no! They were probably taken by as much surprise as I was to learn my probation would end early, so that leaves after the fact to fuck with me.

I did catch a glimpse of the person at one point. It was a middle-aged white guy who was carrying a water bottle in one hand. He had a fairly new and large dark red pickup with a built-in tool compartment.

I called and left Tom a message about it. He’s pretty sure it was a handyman based on my description and said that he was probably persistent if he had a job to do in the area because if he was late or unable to find the site the job was at, that’s money he loses.

When I asked why he’d carry a water bottle, pig or not, Tom said that’s what they usually do out in rural areas, especially when it’s so hot.

I hope this was all it was about. I don’t have any bad vibes and I haven’t had any warning dreams, though I do have dreams of being locked up again from time to time. I just assumed this was natural after all the times I was locked up in various kinds of places. In fact, these dreams, along with dreams of my parents, will probably haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s just that while undercover pigs may be corrupt, they’re not stupid. A guy in jeans and a T-shirt sporting a water bottle and that type of vehicle would make a damn good cover. Nonetheless, if it is connected to any enemies, they’ll be back and I’ll be waiting.

I doubt they were looking for potential houses to break into since this would be a hell of a risky place to do it. Not because there are lots of neighbors close by as potential witnesses, but because everyone has guns out here, and if the owners happen to come home, you can’t exactly make a quick getaway in the way that you could in the city.

We’re thinking of getting a regular phone again, but without the extras, so we can have a phone that’s reliable and just use one of the cells.

I might’ve forgotten to mention this, but Mary asked me what I’d do if I were raped by another woman. I don’t know what inspired her to ask this. I mean, I don’t know if something happened to either her or José or what. I asked, but I won’t count on an answer. In fact, I’m cutting down my questions to those I write to because asking questions that never get answered gets old. Anyway, I told her that on a not-so-serious note, if it were a young Kate, Gloria, Linda or Palma, I’d ever so gladly let them do it! On a serious note, I probably wouldn’t report it for two reasons. For one, I wouldn’t trust the shit system. First the pigs make it out like it’s the victim’s fault, then the courts rape the victim all over again, and if the perp did do any time, it’d be for 5 minutes, then they’d get out and rape again. Secondly, I know God would protect my rapist and keep them from any form of punishment be it for 5 minutes or 100 years. I really, really believe that; about God protecting my perps. It’s not something I just say out of exasperation. I know this to be a fact from 37 years of experience and there’d be no point in trying to tell myself otherwise.

It looks like I’ll be getting another one of the divas (Gone Platinum) this weekend. I can get her for less than the December Barbie and that’s including shipping! That is unless someone buys her before then.

I wish I could talk myself out of mannequins and big porcelain dolls and into collecting just Barbies since they’re so much cheaper, but there are really only a few more Barbies that I really like, so I think I’m going to get those, then go back to saving up for the better, more expensive dolls even if it takes me forever.

eBay may not be the best place for getting a mannequin, but it sure is when it comes to Barbies. I guess that’s because there are so many of them and they’re so popular. Not the birthstones, though. The average birthstone Barbie is in the 30s, base pay. Why pay that when you can walk into a Walmart and get one for $25?

Later…

Just as I figured it would be, this has been one active monsoon season. It’s been raining nearly every day! It’s coming down really hard right now.

My cartridges came on time and intact, but no doll yet. I think it’ll come tomorrow or the next day. I’ll probably get one this weekend too, and then September will be the start of our new budget till someone cuts out our extra spending money completely.

We decided to hold off on getting a dog till the rats die, then we’ll get smaller rats that don’t roam around loose like these jumbos do. Of course, as excited as I am about having a dog, that doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry for these rats to go belly-up too soon, either.

I did some online research for my book. Love in Disguise was set in the desert, Julie & Jill was near the beach, so I thought the woods would be nice for this one, Sacrifices, though I didn’t want a place that got cold and snowy which I hate. After investigating, I settled in on the small town of Ukiah, an hour north of Sacramento. I’m not going to bother with chapters or dates this time around.

It occurred to me that I never wrote a brief summary of Julie & Jill. Well, Jill’s this hot-headed Italian with a serious personality and Julie’s a flaky nut, though she’s not stupid. They meet when Julie goes for an exam in a clinic where Jill works as a nurse. They’re instantly attracted to each other, and that evening Jill picks Julie up when she spots her walking along the street. They have dinner and end up hitting it off, though Jill’s reluctant at first, not used to characters like Julie.

Then Julie’s crazy neighbor dies and she’s charged with her murder since the two never got along. Julie then pins the blame on the boyfriend whom she framed while Jill learns that Julie’s mother tried to kill her for insurance money and her father committed suicide.

Julie’s soon freed and the boyfriend is charged, then when Jill snoops into Julie’s journal and learns she’s the real killer, Julie shoots Jill before she can have a chance to react either way.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 26, 2003 What is it with these thunderstorms erupting late at night and early in the morning? At this time of year, they’re supposed to occur in the late afternoon/early evening. Makes me think I should forget about being on days for a while. After not getting to bed till midnight, I was woken up at 6 AM.

What? Is it my compensation for not having a million appointments or my compensation for winning a $60 Barbie on eBay like I did last night for just $30? That includes shipping, too. Yes, I won one of the 3 dolls in the diva series, All That Glitters. This is a Hispanic doll with long wavy brown hair with blondish streaks. She wears a gold metallic mesh halter top and an orange skirt with dots of glitter. I want to aim for a white version of Red Hot and then a black version of Gone Platinum. I’ll try for one of them this weekend. As Tom taught me, it’s best to wait until the last few minutes of each auction. That’s when all the action takes place.

I got a little worried there for a minute because I bid on this doll a second time around before I even checked my email and learned that I won her! The computer stalled when I hit the submit button to submit my final bid which I waited to do when there was less than a minute left. Then it said that that auction had ended, so I assumed I lost that one. So I tried again and bid $8.50 on one that was currently bid at $3.75 with 6 hours left to go. Tom said not to worry and that he was sure I’d lose. Sure enough, much to my delight, I was outbid an hour later. I never thought I’d be so glad to lose! Meanwhile, the one I won should be here on Friday. It’s coming priority mail from CA.

As for Dalene, the more I think of her the less appealing she is to me, but if I can get a good deal on her through eBay, then sure, I’ll take her. Meanwhile, I’d rather not pay 50-something dollars for her. If I can get her for $35 or less, that’d be cool.

My cartridges made it to Phoenix early this morning and will be delivered tomorrow. I told Mary not to send me her book back as it gets rather expensive for me to turn around and send her copies. She has enough of a book where the ink and paper alone are a bit costly. I hope she’ll hang onto it till she’s out.

Her family said no to paying me to kite the letters, not to my surprise. See, I must work for free! Jose’s mother’s been doing the kiting, though. Wouldn’t this make Mary warier of what she said what with having to send it to his mother? Either way, she can have the job and I’ll stick with the typing.

She also said she never thought for a minute that I took her money which was nice to hear.

I never got a reply from Chuck for her which makes me think he’s either away or ignoring her, because in a sense, what she asked of him is illegal, whereas people like us who aren’t lawyers can simply “play dumb,” but not until she’s out of there.

I also haven’t gotten any email from the other Mary, but that doesn’t surprise me in the least. It’s sad, though, when people can’t do the simplest of things. Such a little, little thing, asking them to email me and let me know if they’re going to order from Yves or not. Why do so many people act like the simplest of requests are so damn hard? On the other hand, these are people who don’t exactly like me, so even if they were interested in the stuff, I doubt they’d order simply to keep me from getting the $30 certificate. Well, I’m not going to ask them about it in an email because I know they’ll just ignore me as will Paula who I spoke to yesterday. She claims she’s going to send me the form along with a money order because she’s not sure what to do, though I wrote out simple instructions for her to follow. Paula is retarded to a degree, so I can’t totally fault her, but I can for lying. I mean, I knew damn well and good that it was bullshit as soon as the words were out of her mouth about her sending me this and so did she. If I asked her about it in a week, she’ll swear she did send it. I know her.

She’s still living on the edge, loving conflict and violence, though no one’s been around to give her the beatings she so obviously adores because Miguel’s been in jail since April. The bulk of the conversation was about the usual – him and her problems with him. She goes on and on about the horrible things he says and does to her, and all I could do was say for the millionth time that she shouldn’t have a damn thing to do with him. Then I get the usual response of “I know,” before she goes on about how she wishes he would change, along with how horrible he treats her, and I’m left to wonder what it would take for her to see he’ll never change. I’m not sure who’s worse, her or Mary, but I guess I’d have to say Mary because, after all, she’s the one with the dead kid.

I totally regret sending her those dolls. They’re sitting in the box in the home of a paranoid skitzo who thinks Miguel’s going to break out of jail and sell them when I could’ve made money off them on eBay. Something does not want me making money! It’s so, so obvious, so you know what? I’m not even going to try anymore. I totally give up on that. I also know what can happen to me for trying to rebel or change what’s meant to be and what’s not, so if doing for others for free or at my own expense is my calling in life, then so be it. I’ll just shut up and do it.

She still asks if I got my braces off that I got off in ’99. Also, she never checked out the CD I sent with the journals and pictures because Justin’s been too busy playing games on the computer.

She’s going to court for her fourth or fifth violation on the 4th of next month, asking if I think they’ll throw her in jail. As I told her, if she’s managed to keep out of jail with this many violations, she may never make it to jail after all. She’s just so damn lucky she’s not out here. I’ve heard of people doing 3 months for their first violation and something like 10 months or a year for their second or third.

Yesterday I began to suspect that the property in front of us was bought by whoever bought the one in front of next door. One of the well workers was walking around over there. Tom said that to him it just sounded like a bored well driller. With about 900’ to drill in the 115º weather, how the hell can you be bored?

MONDAY, AUGUST 25, 2003 Now I really think something doesn’t want him going to Mary’s. Again he set out to go there when he got a flat. I suggested he seriously consider calling the bitch and having her mail us the rebates, anniversary, and birthday checks. Then he can try going over to mooch some other time.

I decided now that I’m on days to try to keep a day schedule for as long as I can. If I can, it’ll be the first time I did so without having a choice. The past two times I was on a schedule I didn’t have a choice and that would be when we were in the process of moving, then later on, thanks to the freeloaders, when I was in jail.

My lungs have been so tight the last few days that I nearly considered praying for a minute there till a reality check ran through my mind. I told myself, after all he’s had you suffer through, you think he gives a damn about your poor little lungs? If you weren’t meant to suffer from asthma, you wouldn’t have it in the first place.

So I just live with it as best I can.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 24, 2003 Tom’s doing the usual, fighting with the vehicles. Again he doesn’t know if he’s going to make it into Mary’s today. It’s like something doesn’t want him to go there.

He acted weird this morning. When I got up, I saw he was watching one of the many pregnancy/childbirth series they got going on the health channel. As soon as he heard me stumble into the kitchen, he changed channels in an instant.

Hmm… I wonder what that was all about? Was he afraid my seeing him watching that stuff would make me think he wanted a kid?

But I know better.

Was he afraid seeing it would make me want one all over again?

Well, it wouldn’t.

Does he still think I want one and figured it wasn’t good for me to see something I couldn’t have anyway?

If that’s the case, he’d have to think I wasn’t honest about my feelings, but I can assure this journal that I’d never say I didn’t want a kid I truly did want, nor would I say I wanted a kid I didn’t want.

I realize more and more, though I figured as much a long time ago, that if he hasn’t been able to admit so far that he doesn’t want to get it on, he never will. I just wish he’d save the politeness for other people and be honest with me! And himself. What’s the point of saying you want to get it on with someone you don’t, anyway? Is he afraid of how I’d react if he were honest or something? Either way, the KY won’t be wasted since I got some tampons yesterday.

Well, right now it’s looking like we’ll still have extra money to play with after all, but the $60 a month for each of us will drop to $40 a month, and the grocery budget will get cut from $90 to $80, and we’ll still split any leftover money each week.

I really did my homework at the grocery store and looked around for things that were cheap, yet not loaded with calories.

As Tom pointed out, though, there are no guarantees for the future. We may have no extra money at some point which wouldn’t surprise me. It’s all going to depend on his pay and how much of our shit breaks on us which is usually quite a bit, quite often. If some emergency comes up that costs us thousands of dollars, well, then we’re out of luck.

Again I heard someone cruising around here with loud music, but I don’t know where it was coming from. I think it was somewhere in front.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 23, 2003 Today’s shopping spree was fun at the new Walmart. We left at 5:30 to beat the heat and crowds. First we started on the non-grocery side where I was pleasantly amazed to find just about all of the birthstone Barbies. It’s a good thing I got to see them in person because I decided that the December one is definitely the nicest and not September. December wears a turquoise glitter gown and a turquoise necklace. It’s cool that the best-looking one is my month. She was $25 and has dark brown hair.

For $50, they had a fake palm tree that was nice, but because I got the Barbie I didn’t get it. I will eventually, though. Probably by the end of the year. By the end of this month, however, I do intend to get Dalene.

I checked the children’s clothes, and they seemed to have a good variety of clothes that’d fit the 24” dolls. The clothes marked 12-14 mos. should fit them nicely.

I also got a couple of pairs of cloth-covered elastics with little strings of heart-shaped beads streaming from them in pink, purple, blue and yellow. One’s on a Barbie and it looks really cool.

There were many things I almost got, such as a $20 leafy tree. It was a good height at around 7’, but not very full. I also almost got a glow-in-the-dark puzzle but didn’t like any of the designs.

I got children’s gumball vitamins. I saw a commercial for them and couldn’t resist. They have cherry, watermelon, grape and regular bubble gum flavors. The metabolism vitamins seemed to have quit working on me anyway. This is a common thing for me too, where something works at first, then stops.

I also got a leave-in hair conditioner that I’ll never again live without. You just spray it on your knots whether your hair’s wet or dry and they slip right out.

We got a little carried away with the groceries, but oh well. Thanks to his winning ticket, I still have $21 leftover.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 22, 2003 Now we’re both doing the crossword game. That’s because Tom won an astonishing, mind-boggling $100 yesterday!! Amazing, huh? This game is fairly new so they still have a ton of winning tickets out there. We’re going to split the money and take it to Walmart tomorrow where Tom thinks I’ll spend it all. I doubt that, but if they have a cheap sundress that’s fairly decent and comfy, I may grab it. I still want dolls more than decorative stationery, clothes, etc. I’m set on socks, underwear, shorts, shirts, etc., so I doubt there’s much I’ll want. On the other hand, if they have a $50 fake palm tree I like, I just might grab that, too! I complain about him being on days, yet tomorrow’s going to be so nice being able to take our time shopping. In the past, we’d have to hurry up so he could get home and go to bed in order to get up at night for work.

I’m not saying I will, but I’m thinking of cutting my hair to my shoulders like I seem to do every 3-4 years once it gets really long. It’s near the middle of my ass when pulled straight and such a pain! It’s so heavy and such a bitch to deal with. Trying to keep knots out of it is like trying to get a black person to play their music for their ears only, or should I say “African-American,” as that seems to be the going title these days till they decide that that’s an offensive term, too. They’re so fucking sensitive! You can refer to them as being “of color,” but God help you if you refer to them as “colored.”

Tom nearly got within inches of one of the smaller rattlers that live here yesterday morning. It was under the green truck which he walked by without being smart enough to check under. It didn’t even rattle, that’s how brave they are.

It’s pretty cloudy out right now which is good because it’s keeping my office cooler. Especially since the sun’s on that side of the house at this hour. No matter where we move to, the next house is going to have most of its windows facing north and south!

My new cartridges won’t arrive till next Wednesday because they’re coming from New Jersey. I’m sure they’ll get here on time too since they’re not dolls. They left Secaucus, New Jersey at 6:33 ET, according to my online check, but by now I’m sure they’re out of the state. They’re probably in the very lower part of New York right now. I just hope they won’t be broken!

I wrote Mary and Bob by hand to let them know I’ve got to wait almost a week till they arrive. I didn’t want Mary to think something was wrong, because if I waited till Wednesday, then mailed her stuff on Thursday, she wouldn’t get it till Monday, September 1st at the very least.

I finally heard from Bob yesterday. He didn’t mention my autobiography, but he did say he got and read both my stories. He said they were good, but he wants more sex. He wants a 395-page story with tons of orgies, he told me, which is typical Bob. Sorry, I told him. I’m a romance/mystery writer, not a porn writer. He ought to subscribe to Playboy or Hustler. Arizona’s one of the few states that won’t allow inmates to subscribe to such magazines, but I’ll bet Massachusetts would.

I don’t know how many times I have to tell the old slut not to write on the fucking envelopes! I’ll just dump him again if he gets that annoying.

He also told me some jokes which were pretty good. He didn’t mention Kim, because he mailed this letter before I mailed him the one for Kim. He should have that right about now and so should Kim, assuming he knows her address. It’ll be interesting to see what she has to say, though I highly doubt she’ll have a job for me. No one has a job for me! Oh well.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Paula yet. I enclosed my number in my letter to her, so who knows what’s up with Miss Phoneaholic?

Aside from getting mosquito bites at work because of the surrounding farm’s water supply, it’s going okay. Some days he doesn’t do much and other days he walks a lot which he likes because it’s good exercise for him. He’s not sure if he’s going to get a promotion anytime soon, though, as he’s just not around that many hotshots.

Yesterday they began drilling a well in front which makes Tom think I could be right about another house or two still to come, pointing out how single houses don’t normally get wells.

I know I’m right. The split lots always have to be near us. I also think it’s been split because I haven’t seen anyone going to the house on a regular basis or hanging out in a trailer like we did till they could get in the house. The good thing about it is that whoever bought the lots and however many houses end up there will no doubt sell them and not rent them. You don’t usually put that much into rentals. Rentals are almost always dumps without wells. On the other hand, owners still have screaming kids and barking dogs and are just as quick to let their trash get out of hand as the renters are out here, so it’s not necessarily a good thing, though the fact that the houses are newer and more expensive is a good thing. It means the chances of blacks and Mexicans buying them are next to nil. I still can’t believe that the renters closest to us are white! Next door makes up for their whiteness, though. If I can’t have blacks or Mexicans below or above me, they at least have to be next to me. Either way, I am not looking forward to when all the houses are here and occupied. Not just because I don’t want to hear their shit, but because we’re going to lose even more privacy. It’s going to really, really suck when the land in front sells off. They’ll be the closest to us, therefore, I’m sure God will make them the loudest, and of course, I won’t count on there being just one house there.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 21, 2003 I don’t know if I ever mentioned this, but the Charlie’s Angels clips that Tom rescued were pretty fucked up. Bits and pieces of other episodes and even stuff of ours like our old home videos would pop through the clips periodically. I decided to quit recording until we have a DVD recorder, but I’m sure there’ll be a problem with that, too. I hate this new digital system! It used to be so easy. You’d just click on the show you wanted to record and you didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to use the VCR.

Tom got the other muffler on the white truck and it’s much better. Doesn’t even come close to waking me up.

The last of the frogs died the other day. We’re now down to just the two angelfish, two guppies, and the algae-eater.

The new Walmart in Casa Grande opens today. It’s supposed to be a grocery store as well, so this Saturday, real early in the morning, we’re going to head over there. I’m sure that because I want one, they won’t have the birthstone Barbies, and that if they do, it’ll be one I don’t want. I’ll just have to order the one I want online one of these days.

Speaking of online, I accidentally stumbled upon this site with these gorgeous figurines with very lifelike detail. I seriously considered one of them, but I don’t want to save up and spend a whole $140 or more on a teeny tiny figurine that shouldn’t be more than $30 like the one I got at the grocery store with the Osco in it. So, my current plan is to order Dalene at the very end of this month, then hopefully order Haiku or a doll that’s on sale that I like by early October as long as we have the extra money.

Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking of sculpting a lot lately and how cool it’d be to get clay, the proper tools and an instruction book so I can learn to make my own figurines. I know I’d never be allowed to make one penny from it, but that’s okay. I can do it just for fun.

It’d be nice to get a pool table to put in the center of the living room when the rats are gone. I’d then put the Bowflex where the rat’s cage now sits. However, pool tables are too expensive as opposed to a ping pong table. It’s just that pool’s something I could play without Tom.

Tom just ordered me all new cartridges. New inkjet cartridges and a new toner cartridge. I hope nothing’s wrong with any of them! It cost $75 but would’ve cost $150 from an office store.

We changed scratch tickets. We were doing bingo tickets, but now he’s doing a crossword ticket and I’m doing Crazy 8’s. It was cool how we could look online and see how many winning tickets are still out there. I quit doing the million-dollar lottery tickets because I know God’s not going to let me see the numbers.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 17, 2003 Someone just blasted by. Anyway, I just saw Kate in a movie that was released this year. For a 55-year-old woman, she looks fantastic. Especially after all the cosmetic surgery, tummy tucks and starvation, she’s no doubt been through. Compared to 30 years ago, she looks awful.

Not surprisingly, I haven’t gotten any email from Mary.

Also not surprisingly, Tom and I haven’t gotten it on yet. He says he has to get the truck out of the way, which is true. After all, we’ve been having to get that damn truck out of the way since December now, but even so, I’m still convinced he isn’t any more interested than I am. If he was, he’d make the time for sex. This is just how he’s always been, though; a one-thing-at-a-time kind of guy, and there are always, always things going on with us. There are always projects and things that need to be done. I wasn’t kidding when I said that I expected nothing to be different about it this time around, which means that these projects are going to take precedence over sex. This weekend’s out as it is because he’s going to want to get working on the truck as soon as it’s light enough to do so and because he pretty much has always preferred sex at the end of the day. It was like he wanted to put it off till the last minute which made the predictability rather boring. There was never much spontaneity or variety and his putting everything else ahead of it was one of the biggest things that turned me off in the past. The biggest thing to come before sex was always the TV, of course.

If we do get it on, I’ll be proven right on something else I figured all along and that’s that what I say or don’t say pertaining to his not cumming does not affect whether or not he cums. Especially since it’ll be years since I’ve mentioned it. He used to try to tell me that my talking about his problem affected it and hindered him from cumming, but I always believed that to be untrue. I hate to say it, but my otherwise strong husband is a real wimp when it comes to this shit. So much so that he’s always tried to pin it on me when I knew all along I had nothing to do with it. The lack of protection may’ve affected it, yes, but nothing I said affected it. That much I always knew and still do. Even so, it’d always come back to me, in his mind. Somehow, I was always connected to it, so he’d tell me, be it something I’d do or say. He was never man enough to come out and admit he had a problem. Period. And that it was his problem and that if, and I repeat if, there was anyone to blame for it, that person could only be him. It’s either a physical problem or a mental one. If it’s mental, it’s likely due to fears of impregnating me. If it’s physical, like with those who can’t get hard in the first place, then it’s physical and only a doctor could tell him what to do for it, though I know he’d never have the guts to bring it up to a doctor.

Nonetheless, regardless of what’s caused by what and who influences it, it’s a good thing in this day and age that he doesn’t cum and is content to stay that way. If he’s happy, why make a gooey mess?

I couldn’t tough out the sneezing so I went back on the nasal spray. So far my nose hasn’t bled, so that’s good.

Here are my planting ideas for the fall. It’ll be rather costly, but a damn worthy investment. I want to replace the dead olies with new ones. Then, since there’s no one in front yet, I want to make a line of olies from the corner where the driveway is to about parallel with the shed (the metal one). That will up the value, give us a little more privacy and help keep some of their shit from blowing over.

Then I want to get a palm tree and put it by the bedroom where the tulip tree was supposed to be or maybe a little further out since they get so tall, figuring we’re not going to do anything at that side of the house since we decided to put the pool in back. If the date palm lives, it shouldn’t be blocked by any shaders cuz it’s next to the driveway.

Lastly, I want to get poplars for the front and back. We’ll replace the dead ones, then maybe add a couple more and extend the line on down towards the bedroom. In front, we can plant them from the rat’s graves to the driveway. Well, from the graves to the date palm, assuming it lives, or maybe put one sort of behind it. If the summer sun was in the position of the winter sun, it wouldn’t matter as it hits the house straight on, but we’re going to have to go as close to the driveway as we can cuz of the way the sun slants at an angle. And really close to the graves, too.

Fall of ’04, I’d like to olie most of the front and maybe pull the back line of olies towards next door, figuring that sooner or later there’ll be a house in front and a rental between the existing ones and Dan. I don’t think we’ll lose much privacy once a house exists towards the bedroom side. We’re never at that side of the house but to burn and water the olie. There’s a lot of dense brush there too, but we won’t know for sure till it gets there. I don’t vibe a house there anytime soon. I sense there’ll be one across the street before there’s one on that side, but I don’t know when. Probably by ‘05. Same with the fourth rental.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 15, 2003 I’m mailing Bob a letter to mail to Kim with the hopes of getting some extra money out of her by doing whatever work she may need or want me to do that I can do from across the country. I even threw a stamped envelope in for him. I’m not going to lie and say that money isn’t my sole interest, because it is. Meaning, I’m not going to be friends with her if she says no. It isn’t that I hate her or think ill of her, it’s just that I see no point in bothering to resume a friendship with someone on the other side of the country. I know getting work from her is a hell of a long shot, but I didn’t think it could hurt to try. I’m not going to tell Tom about it unless she surprises me with having something for me to do, cuz if I’m right about my not being meant to generate any income, she’s not going to have anything for me, and there’d be no point in mentioning it to anyone. I don’t want Tom to get all paranoid or worried and think that just because I’ve made contact with Bob and Kim, I’m going to do so with Andy and my family. I’d never want a smoking pothead like Andy back in my life who’d do nothing but bug me, not that I expect he’d take me back as a friend either. I’d also never have anything to do with my family who abused me in so many different ways like they did for so many years. I have more self-respect than that. Everybody’s so hell-bent on forgive, forgive, forgive, but not me. Besides, I really think the only reason so many people are so big on forgiveness is that they hope it will get their own asses off the hook when they themselves do wrong. They figure that if they can get others to share their attitude, they’ll quickly be forgiven as soon as they cross the line and figure, why not do wrong? I’ll only be forgiven. I hope to hear from Mary as to whether or not she and Mom are interested in the Yves deal, but I won’t hold my breath. I asked them to email me either way, but they strike me as the type to blow me off and wait to tell Tom they aren’t interested when they see him. That could be this Sunday after he puts the other muffler on. That’s quite a drive, so if the damn thing passes that test, he’ll feel more comfortable taking it elsewhere. For one, we’ve got to take a load to the dump. We’ve got tons of boxes, non-burnables, and shit outside that needs to go.

My Mary must really miss having a radio, though I can assure her she’s not missing much. It’s mostly full of welfare bums screaming about their rage, welfare, gangs and drugs. It really gets old! Here are these damn rappers who grow up on the streets in gangs, then get rich and famous by screaming about the things that piss them off and that they think are oh so unfair, but me, who grew up with all kinds of abuse and has a high school diploma and some college, still remains with an average or below income. And you know what else ticks me off? Society’s quick to write about the trouble I’ve gotten in, be it real or imagined, like they did with the freeloaders here and the prank calls back east, but when did anyone ever write about when I escaped the projects back in Norwich and journeyed all the way out here with little more than the clothes on my back? When did they ever write about when I quit smoking, drew a really good picture, got married, got an ear canal drilled, etc.? So much of the time the wrong people are getting attention or money for the wrong reasons while those who are much more deserving of recognition or money don’t get shit. Well, I don’t want any recognition or attention. Just the opposite, especially after being thrust into the spotlight like I have so many times throughout most of my life. But a home job, just a lousy home job, would be nice! Why is it that more often than not, the simplest and or most common things are just too much to ask for? And I’m sick of my family knowing about my damn business, too! Hell, Lori and Lisa know about the jail shit. Doe would’ve told Larry who would’ve told Ronnie who would’ve told Lori and Lisa. I don’t want these assholes to have the satisfaction of having any knowledge of my life.

I was both bummed out and frustrated over this sleep curse that’s so obviously a curse that’s been put on me. What to punish me for, I do not know, but it’s more than obvious that it is a curse designed to punish me and to hinder me from who knows how many opportunities. They say there’s a reason for everything and that God makes us how and who we are for a reason, but I can’t imagine for the life of me why I was meant to not be able to keep a schedule and to be so sleep-needy other than to be punished by it. Sometimes we get answers, sometimes we don’t. I mean, I think it’s safe to say that the reason God denied me a child was to punish me back when I wanted one and because he knew I couldn’t handle one anyway. Same with the singing, but why, for example, was I not meant to be with a woman as good-looking as Kate, Linda or Gloria? Not that I’d trade Tom in for the world, but why was it so important to God that I be with a man? I knew he was trying to tell me he wanted me with a man all along, like long before I met Tom, but why? Medical insurance is the only reason I can think of, but now a woman can name another woman as her insurance benefactor, so I don’t know what to think.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 14, 2003 I finally heard from Mary. She never mentioned the money at all. She said she’d been busy with her classes and is now at a 6th-grade level rather than 3rd. How’d she acquire such good vocabulary on a 3rd-grade level?

Anyway, she did get the religious booklet and my stories which she says are fabulous.

She says her family still sends her money and that she and José still write to each other, though not as much. How they’re doing this, I don’t know, so I asked her. She said his mother writes to her, too.

I told her about Tom’s new job.

She said Clarence is history and enclosed a note for Chuck asking for his help on how to get her book published and if he’d handle her royalties. I guess this must mean she doesn’t trust us, but if she doesn’t, why would she still be my friend if that were the case? That makes no sense, so maybe she has other reasons. He couldn’t legally help her till she got out, though. Maybe that’s why I never got a response from him. I waited a whole day so I could enclose it in her letter, but nothing’s come in as of yet.

She said she feels her dream of getting the book published is fading away because she doesn’t know how to go about it and as I told her, my heart goes out to her as far as her frustration and cluelessness as to how to get a book published. This is the main reason I got turned off from the idea of being a writer. Finding a publisher is like finding a needle in a haystack, but others have found them, so don’t give up, I told her, and also, even if it never does get published, write the book anyway, because you’re a good writer, you like to write, and it’s a story worth writing. She promised Gretchen she’d do this and I let her know that Gretchen wouldn’t be let down by her not getting the book published, she’d be let down by her not writing it at all. I also assured her that although life is seldom what we plan it to be and dreams rarely do come true, all kinds of wonderful things happen to us along the way that we wouldn’t trade for the world. All we can do is try our best. Not succeeding isn’t failing, not trying is failing.

She wants to change the title to From the Cradle to the Grave and I agree that that’s much more catching and appropriate.

I told her this ought to console her and that’s that if the state doesn’t do the right thing and fry his ass, other inmates probably will. Also, if jail was as hard as it was for someone like me who doesn’t like to control or be controlled, imagine how hard being told what to do all the time is for a control freak like him?

I asked her which of my two stories she likes better, but I know not to count on an answer from her. That girl does not like to answer all my questions!

Anyway, Samantha came yesterday and is very nice. She has pale yellow-blond hair that’s crimped and blue realistic eyes. She wears a soft blue dress with off-white lace. I can’t figure out if it’s an old-fashioned or a modern dress. It looks like it could be either. My floral earrings that go with the necklace I got not too long ago go beautifully with the dress. I cut the clips off with metal cutters and glued them on. Porcelain gets hot as easily as it gets cold, and boy was she scorching hot when I unpacked her at 2:30 in the afternoon! I was surprised to find she was wired, but that’s no big deal. Wires are okay on a standing doll of this size. It’s when they’re over 30” or are sitting dolls that loc-tite armatures are better.

I emailed Vicki Pala as far as how much a completed Sweet 16 Bailey would cost and she said $250, so they’re the cheapest yet. I really want to get her in the dress she comes in when it comes time to get her. It’s such a beautiful pink dress with roses.

I can’t print pictures for Mary, Paula or Bob cuz my color’s dead and I’m low on toner, too. At least I’m full on black, but hopefully I’ll eventually be able to renew everything and not have to resort to writing people by hand, but if I do, I do. We’ll see. I like to write, but I prefer to stick to typing.

I slept poorly the last couple of days that I ended up sleeping forever today. I slept like I was in jail again yesterday and barely slept 5 hours. I guess it was the excitement over knowing Samantha was coming that day. Then we had a 6-hour thunderstorm. I fell asleep last night and only slept an hour when a loud thunderclap woke me. It wasn’t till 2:30 before I fell asleep and I slept till nearly 5:00 right before Tom got home! Both tonight and last night we’ve had steady rain that lasted for hours. The olies will love it!

Lightning knocked out the power in the whole northeast region a few days ago. Feeling a bit sticky, are ya, Tammy? Hee, hee! It’d be even funnier if it happened in the winter, but not for Paula and Bob. August in New England is miserably hot and humid. It’s like in the 90s with 100% humidity.

The bombs have done a good job of keeping spiders away, and any flies that get in die off pretty fast.

I asked Yves for another introduce-a-friend certificate for Paula, but just like with Tom’s mom, who knows if she’ll go for it?

I’m working on a third story. I couldn’t figure out what to write for the longest time, so then I decided to start at least a little something and let the story lead me from there, then it came to me! Isn’t that cool? Most writers have their stories all mapped out before they even write the first word, but I kind of start with whatever comes to mind, then take it from there. When I started the first one, I didn’t know Kate was going to become a psycho.

Anyway, the last two stories were pretty much romance that turned suspense, but this one’s going to be the other way around, so it seems, with the suspense turning into romance.

I quit the 2-hour workouts as they were just a waste of time. A half-hour or so is all I need to do to keep in shape and working out really doesn’t burn calories, and I don’t give a shit what anyone says. It doesn’t. The key is watching what you eat, though I’m not trying to lose weight anymore. Just stay where I’m at. Even the Bowflex people said that more isn’t better.

Tom feels more and more certain, now that he’s been there a few days, that this job will be a good one. Already they’re giving him a desk and a computer! He does a lot of walking, parking and moving around the zillions of cars. That will keep him in shape.

As I told him, more is always better, but I’d happily settle for $50 a month of extra money. If I could get a doll every 3-4 months, that’d be better than never and they’re not all going to be over $200.

This weekend he’s going to put the green truck’s muffler on the white one and hopefully, it’ll be quieter than the one that was on it before. He’s not sure what he wants to do with the green one. Maybe turn it into a trailer or race it at the Firebird racing track where they do drag racing.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 12, 2003 Although it’s only coming up on 4:00, it looks like Samantha won’t be here today either. I hope Tom got a message from the people who say they sent her because I didn’t get any email. I just hope I get her eventually and that we weren’t ripped off or that she wasn’t misdelivered or that the people didn’t address the package wrong.

One of the leaves on my plant is now mostly unfolded. It’s a big leaf, too. It’s like two feet long and a foot wide.

Later…

When another day passed with no doll and no call-back from the Palas, I began to really get concerned, so I emailed them again and this time I got a response. The doll was supposed to be delivered today, they said, but just let them know if I don’t get it and they’ll trace it. They gave me the tracking number and I checked and found that there was a delay somewhere in Mississippi. I’m sure there was a breakdown. My typical shit luck, huh? If it wasn’t a doll I was expecting, it probably would never have happened. Anyway, the doll’s been rescheduled to be delivered tomorrow!

I’m having second thoughts about the thinning shears because I don’t want to end up with all these uneven hairs.

I was in for two surprises today, though the part where I got a letter from Paula wasn’t that surprising. I figured the phone being disconnected would prompt a letter from her, and so it did. She hasn’t been in jail, but like always, has pending court dates.

She and Justin are okay, she still has all the dolls, she liked the CD I sent, is being tested for diabetes, and is still associating with Miguel who aggravates her and is trying to get her in jail, so she says.

She was also in an accident on the bus when a van hit it.

Anyway, she asked what was up with the phone and so I told her of the new phone arrangement, gave her the number, and told her about Tom and his new job (he said it was boring and he had to drive to Tempe twice when he wasn’t just sitting around), and printed out my two stories for her (I began a third one last night).

The surprising part was that Tom really did get the KY. Maybe I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth after all, but we’ll see how it goes. Like I said, I don’t expect the sex to be different which means it shouldn’t occur that often.

If I don’t hear from Mary I’ll probably send her a piece of my mind directly at the end of the month, but I might not bother sending her aunt stuff. No, I won’t fuck her over. She does enough of that to her own self.

MONDAY, AUGUST 11, 2003 Tom’s on his first day of work right now. Oh, how I hope he likes the job and that the people treat him well and that he gets a serious promotion real fast! Either that or a whole new full-time job or a part-time job to supplement this one.

That doll also better be here before 5:00 or I’m not going to be the least bit happy.

The mesquite tree isn’t growing. All it did was green out, but it never did grow. Neither did the palm that survived. The only things that are growing are a few of the olies.

Later…

I just took my vitamin on a semi-full stomach 8 hours after taking the water pill. Now all I have to do is hope I don’t lose it! I had just gotten to the point where they weren’t affecting me so I don’t know what’s going on. If I get sick or really damn close to it, then once again whatever’s up there that doesn’t want me having any control over my weight wins and I stop taking them. I already decided some time ago anyway that I was going to stay in the mid-120s. Nonetheless, I’m making a burrito right now as today’s one of those bottomless stomach days. I eat and I eat yet I can’t fill up.

Tom said things went okay at work, though today was mostly orientation where he had classes and tours. He told me lots of tidbits pertaining to the place. The weirdest thing was the Japanese cars that are sent over here for just two weeks to be tested before being sent back to Japan by boat. He drove one of those today too, and said the writing on the dashboard was all in Japanese and the steering wheel was on the other side. I don’t know why they can’t test them in Japan. Perhaps because it’s so crowded there, they have no room for testing facilities. This Nissan testing facility is the biggest in the country with 3,000 acres. They even have working farms surrounding it to keep their water rights going.

Because there isn’t any snow and ice here, they have an area covered with tile that they spray water on so they can test the cars on that which would be the same as testing it on ice.

He still thinks this job will work out and that he’ll get a substantial raise soon enough. I hope he’s right and that we don’t end up suffering financially for a year or maybe even 2 or 3. We totally do not deserve that! We’ve been through that before and we struggled and worked our way up and we don’t deserve to be kicked back down for another handful of years. That’d be totally cruel and unfair of God if he let that happen, but I don’t think we’ll let it. We have more choices open to us than we had in the past, so we may be able to fight back this time, but hopefully we won’t fall so badly into debt that we’ll have to.

The whole thing still pisses me off. Yes, I’m glad Tom’s not at the bank anymore. They were using him at his own expense. However, he goes and works his ass off, a lot of it for free, and this is what he gets for it? Thanks, God, thanks a real lot.

It makes me feel so controlled, too. It’s like how the freeloaders came and had me yanked out of this house and along with the state said, “You cannot live in your own home for half a year and you must do this and go there, etc.,” I feel like his old boss is the one who’s going to decide how much extra money we have. It’s like our lives are always dictated by God or other people. His old boss might as well come to me and say, “No more $60 a month plus grocery savings for you, ma’am. You’ll have less than that from now on because of my actions.”

My doll didn’t come today. I agree with Tom when he says I should get her by Friday, but it still seems odd that no one answered my email and that it didn’t come today. Then again, why should it? I know there’s always got to be a problem with getting dolls. I did leave them a message on their answering machine, and they have been around a long time, so we’ll see.

Sample Net’s bugging me again with the junk mail. I knew they would too, and that they only wanted me to think they backed off for good. That’s okay. Two can play this game.

I was watching TV earlier. Oh, the things they tell kids. Trust the police, they tell them. And respect your elders. But what do you do when your elders don’t respect you? To each their own, but I could never respect anyone of any age who disrespected me.

I am not looking forward to when the nasal spray gets out of my system. I’m going to be so sick. But it’s either that or a bloody nose. It’s like something wants me to suffer.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 10, 2003 I am so bored it isn’t funny, and Tom doesn’t like to do much but watch TV. Especially when it’s too dark to work on the truck. He did that earlier, though. He got the mufflers off both trucks so he can put the one that was on the green one on the white one to quiet it down.

Using his email address and a bogus phone number, I’ve been entering us in various contests and sweepstakes. I know the odds are ridiculous, but I’m so freaking bored out of my mind. I gotta do something besides work out.

I was as close to throwing up as one could possibly get after taking my vitamin when I got up. I don’t know if it was because I took it along with my water pill or what, but I can’t help but get the feeling that it would never have happened if it weren’t something that helps me maintain my weight.

I’m still pretty sure we won’t get it on, but I had to ask myself this: Do I want to trust in fate to see that I don’t conceive if we do, or do I want to use birth control?

Tom said it was my call and so I decided I trusted destiny enough to skip the birth control. I also asked myself: God loves to see women who don’t want to conceive get pregnant anyway, think he’ll have the same attitude with me now that that’s not what I want?

No, I don’t. I think destiny is destiny, like it or not. Besides, I’ve been right about my vibes on that for 37 years, so why would I be wrong now? I believe that being in jail taught me the reasons it wasn’t meant to be. I used to believe that it was to punish me (back when I wanted one) and that I couldn’t handle the lack of sleep having one would cause. Well, while denying a woman a child she wants is definitely a punishment, being in jail taught me that although it’s hard functioning on very little sleep and having my sleep constantly interrupted, it is survivable, nonetheless. I now believe the reasons are because I couldn’t handle the pregnancy, childbirth and just the rearing itself and having no life or freedom. I value my freedom too much to throw it away. Being locked up and in the situations I’ve been in the past has taught me not to take my freedom for granted. I have nothing against kids whatsoever and I say to each their own as far as having kids goes. I, on the other hand, see nothing but hardships pertaining to that. All I see is it making me sick, fatter and in utter pain, then eating away our time, money, freedom and lives while limiting what we do and where we go. I just don’t see it as a worthy sacrifice and I know I’d be giving up so much for so little. Oh, I may have my bursts of gladness over having the kid, but I think that most of the time it’d drive me batty and that I’d regret having it. Of course, there’d be my crazy schedule to consider, and where would Tom sleep?

I also have another blessing in my favor and that’s a man who rarely cums, and if I was right all these years in thinking it was for fear of impregnating me, he should never ever cum again.

I learned something else by getting tested like I did too, and that’s that God doesn’t need to fuck something up in order to keep it from being used. He didn’t fuck up my plumbing because he knew that all he had to do was just make sure nobody grew in it.

I also asked myself: Would you resort to birth control if he did cum?

Well, I don’t know about that, though I know I wouldn’t want him cumming. Personally, I don’t even want to get it on with him in the first place simply because I haven’t the desire to. Knowing the feeling’s mutual, I think it’s safe to say I won’t have to worry. Tuesday will tell me. He’s stopping at the grocery store. They sell KY there. We’ll see if he picks any up. Anyway, I don’t think anything would be different if we did start having sex again. This is why I think he may’ve always been this way, even with other women. Of course, there’s also no saying how our sex life would’ve been had I been on birth control from the get-go. Maybe I am the only one he’s been this way with. I’ve always been sexually cursed, though to me it’s no curse anymore, just a wet, sticky mess we don’t need if he’s as content as he’s always been to keep things relatively dry. Still, why he is the way he is, I’ll never know. Before Helen gave me that info. I thought he’d clam up with anyone not protected, but now I see that it could very well be a lifelong problem he’s had that he simply never had the guts or desire to deal with. Or maybe it’s a combination of both. Perhaps he always had this problem and his lack of desire for a kid dampened any motivation to seek help.

Yves’ mascara washes off really easily. With the old shit I used to use, I’d have to scrub at my eyes with makeup remover and even that wouldn’t get it all off. The only thing is that I can’t tell that the violet mascara is violet or that the blue mascara is blue. Maybe out in the sunlight I could.

I emailed UPS asking if they do Saturday deliveries when Tom pointed out not remembering ever seeing a UPS truck on the road on a Saturday, and sure enough, they don’t. If Samantha was really shipped by Wednesday, then there’s no reason she shouldn’t be here tomorrow. In fact, I’ll be worried if she isn’t.

Tom said he saw a brief clip of an infomercial selling a split-end trimmer that trims only the bottom eighth of each hair shaft. That does sound way cool, but a bit expensive as well. What I really need is some thinning shears!

SATURDAY, AUGUST 9, 2003 My day’s been off to a pretty good start. Not only did my stuff from Yves come today intact but it was left in the locker they have there so he could pick it up. You can’t get big packages or packages with delivery confirmations needed at the desk on Saturdays. I love most of the stuff I got. They threw in extra freebies, too! The only thing I don’t like is the tomato body gel. Yves uses all-natural stuff from plants, fruits and vegetables. Tomatoes don’t smell great at all!

Enclosed was this deal for a $30 certificate if I get a friend to join and buy $20 worth of stuff. I sent it to Mom and Mary to check out, though I don’t know if they’d be interested. I told them not to feel obligated to order.

So, I got all kinds of things – colored mascara, shower gels, lotions, perfumes, bath stuff, face stuff, etc.

I decided to quit editing and burning CA episodes onto CDs. Instead, I’m going to wait till we get a DVD recorder and just record the episodes as they air right onto DVDs.

As far as Mary goes, I’m either going to never contact her again if she never contacts me, or let her know that she’s a real shit after all I’ve done and given to her if she writes me with any bad accusations. Either way, I’ll send her aunt a CD of her writing and pictures and be sure to let her know I didn’t take Jose’s money and let Mary have to explain that one to her.

FRIDAY, AUGUST 8, 2003 I just completed what was the biggest workout of my life – 1½ hours long. My muscles are heavy and shaky and it’s an effort just to type this. Less resistance and more reps makes muscles tauter and less bulky so I’m making working out my job since I have no other job or commitment hogging up my time. I won’t get paid for it, but I’ll be in some serious kick-ass shape! My legs are already noticeably smaller, though I still don’t think I’ll ever lose my overall body fat and be like I was in my 20s. I’m too old for that and I also don’t have the patience or willpower to starve myself. I’ll just do what I have been doing and just try to eat reasonably, limiting the sweets to just once or twice a week.

Tom just informed me that my bird was standing just outside the front door staring up at it expectantly, so I threw out some bread.

We decided that when these two rats die not to get new big ones. We’ll get small ones that will use tubes like the mice did and live in cages that aren’t on the floor. That way, if we do have a dog, it won’t badger them. They’ll be up over the dog’s head and not out running around loose like big rats love to do. The little ones will use plastic balls to roam around in. It’ll be nice not having to worry about what I leave on the floor, too.

I don’t know if the date palm will make it, but the queen’s just about dead. It makes no fucking sense either; we start watering this tropical plant, then it dies. They’re supposed to thrive on endless amounts of water.

Tom thinks the doll will be here today or tomorrow, but I think she’ll be here Monday or Tuesday so long as she really has been sent and to the right address as well.

Still no Yves, but it hit Tom today, so he told me, that the reason that’s taking so long is because of its size. He said that the PO only flies small packages, but the big ones get driven. He thinks I’ll get that at the end of next week. Whenever I do, I can then do the rest of the survey Yves wants me to do. It better come by next Thursday or Friday or else I’m going to really be worried. I know they’re a reliable company, but that doesn’t always mean anything to those with package curses on them. I’ll bet, for example, that most people have no problems getting dolls from PG. Anyway, I hope I get the packages and that their contents are intact.

THURSDAY, AUGUST 7, 2003 Today was a bit of a rough day and a busy one for Tom who ran a lot of errands, including picking up the two new identical pairs of glasses he got.

I’m glad the truck’s working and all that, but I’m not glad the damn thing wakes me up when he leaves in it when I’m sleeping. For now, I’ll sleep with the fan on high till he quiets it down with a muffler which is what it needs.

One of the junk emailers just wouldn’t leave me alone. I mean, they just wouldn’t give up. So what did I do to these pushy, persistent pests? Sent them about 50 emails of my own, letting them know that as long as they wouldn’t let me unsubscribe and kept badgering me, I’d do the same. In each email, I’d copy and paste a paragraph from old journals. Anyway, today’s the first day I didn’t get anything from them.

Still nothing from Mary. I don’t know what the scoop is at this point. I mean, it could be any number of things, I guess. Maybe she’s in the hospital having hernia surgery. I doubt she was hurt by another inmate. I’d think that if that were going to happen, it would’ve happened by now. If I don’t hear from her by the end of the month, I guess I’ll send her aunt a copy of her books and pictures on a CD, then delete them from my drive. I’ll keep a backup copy archived on my other PC. I don’t see why I wouldn’t hear from her, though. I’m sure she’s just having a rough time of it.

Okay, here’s the worst part of my day. It really was quite frustrating! Well, as I’ve said a million times, I’ve always believed that it varies from gay to gay as to who gets what they want and who doesn’t, just like it varies from woman to woman who has kids. That’s God’s decision to make in the end as to what women he’ll allow kids to. I not only knew I was never meant to have kids, but I knew I was a man’s woman and not meant to be a woman’s woman. God wouldn’t have paired me with a man like Tom if I weren’t which is fine since Tom’s a great guy. Anyway, I don’t know why I was meant to be with a man. Could be to tease me with the kid I once wanted, could be so I’d have medical insurance. I don’t know. I just know that God never liked it when I’d get it on with a woman and that was pretty much why the phone would conveniently go dead a lot back east when I would call the gay meeting line, and why I got hurt by Teddy Bear, etc. Although Tom and I certainly wouldn’t see it this way, he’d much rather I stepped out on Tom with another man before I simply fantasized about another woman. I really believe he wouldn’t punish me for it if I did.

Anyway, Tom was trying to get my burner to be the burner it’s supposed to be and not just a player when he suddenly came out and asked where all my Charlie’s Angels clips were that I spent so much time editing. I was like, “What do you mean, where are they? They’re where they always are.”

But not only did last night’s CA not record (I’m trying to snag the ones I missed), but the clips were all gone! All the CA clips were gone, but the circus acts, our wedding and me as a toddler were all still there. Now tell me something up there wasn’t trying to tell me I was a sinner and a half and I’ll tell you you’re full of it! There’s no way either Tom or myself would be dumb enough to have deleted all those files. No way! I know damn well what did it and it’s something that sits up in the sky. Something much more powerful than I could ever be who doesn’t agree with my ways, but like I can help it? We can’t help what we’re attracted to any more than we can help what flavors, colors and music we like or don’t like. We are who we are and so be it. It’s like, what do I do if whatever’s up there decides they don’t like short people? I can’t very well stretch myself up any taller.

So I said fuck it, I’m not going to mess with this evil outer source, whatever it is, yet Tom managed to rescue most of the clips, using a special recovery program. See, they were deleted only just last night so they haven’t had time to be overwritten. Still, I learned years ago that if we fight for the not meant to be and try to avoid the meant-to-be, we’re just asking for trouble. We must take what God gives us and accept what he doesn’t give us.

I also said I’d do my duties, so to speak, and get it on with him if he picked up some KY jelly, but I know he’s not interested in that any more than I am.

Anyway, we’re getting ready to hack in and break the registration code on the digital editor we got. It only gives you 10 free days with it, then you have to pay for it, but we can break the code and trick it into thinking we paid for it. It’s a shit program. I can’t imagine anyone buying it, but unfortunately, it’s all there is that I can use. Nothing else works, but with it being such a sin for me, I figured God wouldn’t make it easy for me anyway.

I’ve been walking and jogging a lot lately to fill in all this free time I have so I don’t get too bored. Right now I’m a little wary of writing any more gay fantasies. I start off jogging, then I walk briskly. As soon as my heartbeat starts slowing down, I pump it back up with another burst of jogging. I know that walking alone isn’t very beneficial. You really have to get yourself a bit out of breath.

I once read that walking 90 minutes a day burns 500 calories. If that were the case I could eat 1500-1700 calories a day and still lose weight, though I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like walking that much. My feet get pretty tired once I get over a half-hour, so I break it up and do it on and off whenever I feel like it.

For this next week, but only this next week, I was thinking of doing the eat-every-other-day routine to settle my curiosity as far as how my body would react to it with the vitamins. Without the vitamins, I lost anywhere from 0-2 pounds on non-eating days when I thought I’d lose 3-4. Maybe I could lose weight in 5-pound intervals, but I don’t know. I mean, do I really want to bother? We’ll see, depending on the results of this little test I’m going to do for a week.

My Yves stuff still hasn’t shown up. Tom thinks it will tomorrow. I hope he’s right! He also thinks Samantha will be here Saturday, but I think that’s too soon. It took Mei Li 4 days to come from California, so I don’t see how it could take Sam just 3 from North Carolina. She might not even have been shipped till Wednesday because they didn’t take the money till then. The only thing that worries me is that no one answered my email asking when I should receive the doll. They’ve always answered emails in the past. Their site’s been around a long time, though, so hopefully I’ll get the doll. Intact, I don’t know, but I’m sure I’ll get it.

WEDNESDAY, AUGUST 6, 2003 Tom spoke to Mary and explained to her how he got fired for being against their having Easter egg hunts and bringing religion into the workplace, and therefore not being seen as a teamster.

He also explained the new job he’ll begin on Monday for what’s now going to be $8 an hour. Still pretty shitty. We really hope he can work his way up fast! He’s still going to need to find a part-time job in the meantime.

He got a computer-made card in the mail today from the company he’ll be working for (Modern Engineering) welcoming him aboard.

He had to have a physical as well as a drug test, but he got the luxury of being allowed to pee in private.

Although the truck runs, it needs more work as does the car which nearly caused us a brush with death the other night. There’s a part underneath that steers the car which had come loose, causing the car to vibrate. Well, had it broken off completely, we would’ve lost control and crashed.

I’m just sick of this car and truck running so much of our lives!

I really hope that the only reason I haven’t heard from Mary is that she’s been broke and not because she thinks we ripped her off. I would not only be insulted to learn if she did think that but unable to continue our friendship as I just couldn’t fathom being friends with anyone who couldn’t trust me and was thinking the worst of me. For her to think that after all I’ve done for her would really be a slap in my face if I ever did find out that that’s what she believes for sure. I hope the poor girl’s just broke and that I find out soon enough whether or not she got my two books and whatever else is going on with her.

I’m surprised I haven’t gotten any letters to her from José. Makes me wonder if they’re still in touch with each other. I don’t see how they could be. They must’ve had a fight which is unfortunate. I went out and bought extra envelopes in case I do get anything to send from her to him.

I still have mixed feelings about our friendship. Yes, it’s nice to have a pen pal like her when I do hear from her, but a part of me is also like, go ahead. Accuse me of being a thief and give me a reason to dump you so I can avoid any potential problems between us in the future. It will be her loss if she does let this Buffy chick come between us by being dumb and naïve enough to believe her over me. The ball’s in her court and it’s strictly up to her at this point. I’m going to send a letter out tomorrow and send no more till and if I hear from her.

It really is weird that she and José haven’t swapped letters. It makes me think that they either got caught or she does think I ripped her off and therefore told him not to send me anything for her.

The good thing about it if our friendship ends, is that for once it’ll be of no loss to me. It’ll certainly be a hell of a loss for her, though! She’ll have a hell of a time getting her book done without me. Without me, she’d have to hand over hand-written, barely legible drafts with one misspelled word after another unless she gets out, gets a computer, and then writes the book.

My nose bled earlier, though only one side. The doctor said the sprays can cause that. This is the first time it has. Before, all I’d get was the post-nasal drip. I’m surprised it bled cuz I’m only using the spray once a week. Maybe I’ll just stop using it and let myself sneeze all the time. I sneeze enough as it is anyway.

Speaking of feeling insulted, boy do I feel insulted by God over this job shit! I mean, here my husband was working his ass off for that damn bank for years, twenty of those weekly hours being for free, and what’s he do to reward him for it? Leads him to a shitty-paying job. That’s his reward for all his hard work.

We just can’t get ahead in life and when we do it’s only temporary.

Tom feels pretty certain that as long as he doesn’t come across as desperate, he can get his mother to give us a lot of money. Like $500, $1,000 or maybe even more. I hope so! I really do. Things may not be too bad right now, but they certainly could end up that way if we don’t either get him a better-paying job, a part-time job, or if his mother doesn’t help out. He hopes to find contract work for part-time work where he can do computer programming from home.

TUESDAY, AUGUST 5, 2003 No, but they can send email. I was surprised, but last night I got an email from Mary and Dave saying that because it’d been so long since they’ve heard from us, they were starting to get a little worried. They lost Tom’s number, so that’s why I was emailed. I gave them both our numbers and told them not to give them out, then I told them that yes, a lot’s been going on but I wanted Tom to be the one to explain it all, so just hang tight till he calls.

Anyway, he’s been gone since I got up 5 hours ago. I hope today’s the day he comes home with my Yves stuff!

Before stopping at the PO, he’ll be stopping to give the new place his driving record. Originally, he was given a shitty-paying job as just a driver, but then he got offered another daytime position doing all kinds of things. He’ll be a porter, though still with the shit pay. The good thing about it is, though, that with this position versus driving, he can show off his skills to more important people and obtain more important positions within the company. In the meantime, he’ll probably look for a part-time job elsewhere and we’ll probably cut our grocery budget from $90 to $80 and our monthly allowance from $60 to $40. This job will include benefits.

To my utter astonishment, the truck was registered and licensed yesterday! Now we’ll spend the next few days testing it before we take it too far.

He’s been working in the utility area stringing old well wire around the wall with a white covering so it won’t look ugly. This is because he wants a more kick-ass outlet outside for running the air compressor.

He ordered Samantha yesterday morning at 8:30 our time. As it turned out, the number he called went to the couple’s home and he woke them up, too. I was surprised they’d be sleeping at that hour and that their store was closed, but anyway, if all went well, she was shipped out to me sometime today.

As for a mannequin – that’s something I really want to buy in person, so if we go to California and I get one, fine, but if not, then I probably won’t get one.

Yesterday we received the few things we ordered like the colorful bead mobile, floral hummingbird magnets and ring toss game. Was anything broken? Well, of course. What’s a package to us without something broken in it? Fortunately, the breakage was minor enough. Just a fallen bead on the mobile and a wimpy magnet on one of the floral birds.

I had a badass idea for making a mobile using the hanger that we cut the crystals off of. Hopefully, he’s got a glass cutter because I want to take an old mirror and hang pieces of it. That’d look way cool.

A high-pressure system has swept through the area, leaving the weather more like it normally is in June, hot, dry and cloudless, though the system’s heading east and clouds are beginning to swing back in.

I decided that like it or not, chubby or not, 125 is my weight and that’s that. It’s just such an incredibly easy weight to maintain. Especially with these vitamins. It’s 20 more pounds than I need, but oh well. I’m just too sick of dieting to lose any more weight in the near future.

My editing is temporarily done and now I’m back to being bored silly till I can think of something to entertain myself with. Maybe I’ll cook up some other bullshit story. We’ll see. I can’t think of anything right now.

SUNDAY, AUGUST 3, 2003 I’m almost done with the editing.

Tom’s going to order Samantha first thing in the morning.

How I hope my Yves stuff comes tomorrow and intact, too! The other stuff would be nice and so would a letter from Mary updating me on what’s been going on with her. I doubt it, though. I mean, I don’t think she’s been broke. I think she thinks we ripped her off. I don’t know how she could believe Buffy over me, but that’s just the impression I get. Oh well. Can’t help what she thinks.

Tom doesn’t want to talk to his mom till he gets a job, saying it may worry her. I don’t think a little worrying would hurt her. If anything, it’ll get some money out of her. Of course, they’d never call him because that’s how self-absorbed they are, and when they do call it’s only when they want something. They can never call just to say hi and see what’s up.

SATURDAY, AUGUST 2, 2003 Tom went for the driving test today and was surprised at just how aggressive the driving was. At one point he had to do 90 MPH as well as weave between cones and on the slalom. He’s not sure he did as well as they’d like, though anyone can drive like a maniac at $7.50 an hour if you ask us.

I just hope he gets something, somewhere real soon! He said getting in at a temp agency will be no problem if it came down to it. That’s what he’s done before. In fact, that’s how he ended up at the fucking bank.

All I know is that the cock that fired him better end up doing us a favor because I am so, so sick of people fucking us over! Then, to add insult to injury, they get away with it! Ugh, it just gets so damn old! It’s scary, too. Especially what with knowing that time and age haven’t changed this old pattern of fuck-them-over-and-get-away-with-it. Take jail, for example. If I can be held in a place against my will in my 30s, then why not at any age?

Sometimes I wonder if the reason we’re not meant to have fences is to allow easier access to bad news. Bad news that walks on 2 legs, that is, and not 4.

I also wonder about the music I heard last night and the night before, if only for a few minutes at a time. Since living here, the before jail time was by far the most musical, shall I say, with the bass thumping. Looking back on it now, I take it as a nasty omen of the shit that was destined to come. Well, I just hope there are no hidden messages in anything I have heard and may hear in the future! Although I don’t have any bad vibes, I still fear pending shit in the future. I don’t always have bad vibes that far in advance, either. New Year’s Eve of ’00, I didn’t have any bad vibes. Not till I was swiped out of here by the pigs, and although I didn’t hear about the freeloaders again for 6 months, bad vibes lingered in the air only because I knew the word of a pig was as worthless as that of the cow shit on these farms.

If I don’t go where the trouble is, the trouble will come to me, and unfortunately, I have enemies out there. I got welfare bums who were obsessed with me enough and sporting enough hate and anger to hunt me down all the way out here, and then there’s Teddy Bear. I’m still 99% sure I didn’t get her fired, but what if I did and what if she’s planning on getting even? She’d be an obvious suspect if anything did happen to me, but so? God would protect her and why would the pigs care? After all, I’d only be a Jew to them and nothing more.

At least it’s some consolation to know that once the decibel laws they have pertaining to loud music get out here, they’ll no doubt be as strict as other laws in this state and people will be quick to follow them. Then again, maybe not. People out here seem pretty rebellious when it comes to noise. Telling someone to cut their weeds or pay their taxes is one thing, but when you tell someone to lower their music, you’re basically telling them to shut up, and people don’t like to be told to shut up. So, stricter laws don’t always mean people are going to be more willing to abide by them or else so many people wouldn’t be constantly in and out of jail like they are.

Anyway, in better news, we’ll be ordering Samantha on Monday. She could be here as soon as next Saturday, one week from today.

Yves’ latest story was that my stuff was shipped on the 31st, so now I don’t know what to believe. I still think I’ll get it this coming week. At least I sure hope so!

[kariachi]

Some quick reboot fic, because I want it. Ben and Kevin are, once again, in competition.

The stakes couldn't possibly be higher.

~~

Thirteen years old and Kevin was, if anything, even more of a menace. Also, he’d somehow gotten even taller than Ben than he was before, which shouldn’t have been legal.

Wearing matching smirks, the pair stared each other down over the Rustbucket’s table. On the Tennyson side, one of Ben’s switch joy-cons, the blue one specifically. On the Levin side, it’s red twin. Between them, the switch in question, hooked up to Gwen’s laptop. Gwen, sat on the counter on the other side of the RV, well out of range of any direct conflict.

Would it have been easier to simply play on their 3dses? Or use Kevin’s laptop and switch, since they couldn’t each just use their own? Most likely. But Ben didn’t trust he hadn’t modded his stuff to hell and back (the latter two didn’t need an hdmi connection anymore, what more proof did you need) and therefor would have a severely unfair advantage. Kevin, for his part, had claimed offense that Ben thought he would cheat, that he didn’t need to cheat to win, but refused to let anybody check and see if his shit was unfairly modded. So, Ben’s switch and Gwen’s laptop it was.

“This is it, folks,” Gwen said as the sound of the game finishing loading in drew the boys’ attention, grinning widely as she slipped in ‘announcer’ mode, “the last Sumo Slammers competition you’ll ever need. Here today, in Sumo Slammer 2: Shogun’s Vengeance: Remastered, we’ll who is the greatest slammer of sumos.”

“In this corner- having not consumed another piece of media in his life-”

“Hey!”

“Benjamin Kirby Tennyson, using Kentarō! And in this corner- I’m still eighty-percent sure only playing the game to mess with Ben-”

“I do have other hobbies.”

“Prove it.”

“-Kevin Ethan Levin, playing Fumie! This fight will be a random stage, all power-ups legal, fight to the death!”

“She gets a little into this crap, doesn’t she?”

“Just a little.”

“On the count of three, the fight begins! One! Two! Three!”

And they were off, in the Great Mountain Temple (“Ha! Homefield advantage!” “Gonna be twice the dishonor when you lose!”). They had to have been mashing buttons before the stage even loaded, for how quickly their characters launched at each other.

“And it’s a strong first move from Ben, Kentarō takes those body slams much better, but he’s losing mass fast! May want to land a hit quick before she outweighs him!”

“Go on, make me more maneuverable, see if I care.”

“Yeah, because Kentarō has ever been about maneuverability.”

“This going to be a powers heavy fight, folks! Kentarō’s Standing Mountain blocking Fumie in, can he land a hit before- No! No Kevin’s gotten off Rolling Wave, can that push him back long enough for- Yes! Just long enough to run Standing Mountain out!”

“I hate you.”

“And I haven’t even won yet.”

“That’s two blows and major weight loss on Kentarō and Fumie’s only taken the one good hit so far- He’s picking up speed though! Can he make up for the loss in defenses and stability though?”

“Never.”

“Then what about this!”

“Holy-moly, our first power-up and Ben’s there first! Standing Mountain number two and there’s no way out for Fumie- He lands a hit! She’s got the weight to take it, but he’s not dropping pounds anymore!”

“Fuck!”

“Not going to wash me away now!”

“Language, Levin! And Ben may want to save his celebrating, Fumie’s still in better shape!”

“I’ve got this, cuz!”

“Oh! And directly into Charging Peak! I don’t think Fumie is far enough from the edge- But a masterful use of Rolling Wave from Kevin washes her right back into place to throw herself into Kentarō again! He did not like that!”

“Aw, is Dweebyson’s sumo too small for a little body slam now?”

“Hate.”

“Another Charging Peak brings them closer in damage but he’s not out of range of Rolling Wave three! Kentarō is looking bad, on the run, hoping for another powerup before Fumie gets to him-”

“It's tense enough, thanks!”

“-and there’s the finisher! Alas, even in the high mountains the sea turns out to be a harsh mistress!” Heaving a sigh, Gwen fell back at the same time the boys did, watching Fumie bow respectfully at the opponent-eating seafoam as it faded from the stage. Ben glared bloody death across the table, Kevin’s smirk now full of teeth as he put his hands behind his head and leaned back like he was king of the world.

“What’d I tell ya? And in your own homeland, the shame of it.” In a few quick button presses, Ben reset things back to the character select screen, eyes never leaving Kevin's face.

“New characters, best two out of three.”

[k9iriz]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝘳𝘩𝘦𝘢 𝘳𝘪𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘹 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙧𝙝𝙚𝙖 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙟𝙤𝙗 𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙝𝙤𝙨𝙥𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙖𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙗𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙮 & 𝙮𝙤𝙪? 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙙𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙝𝙚𝙧. 𝙖 𝙣𝙞𝙘𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩.

fluff!/no warnings

Rhea was wrestling in a match, a fatal 5-way to determine Bianca’s next opponent for MITB.

I watched it as i cheered her on behind the TV, before getting called to a patient at the front desk, leaving my friend to watch the rest.

“I’m gonna take this next patient, you cool?” I reassured my co-worker, as she nodded before I walked off.

45 minutes later, my co-worker was working front desk, before she seen a black Escalade pull up, causing her to sit up.

It revealed Rhea, she didn’t look so good either.

“Oh god.” My co-worker sighed, seeing rhea out of gear and in her regular clothes, with her suitcase in hand.

“Hi, Welcome. How may I help you today?” My co-worker smiled.

“Yes, this lady here has a accident on our recent show and we’re just here to make sure nothing is broken, or if she’s fine or not, since the medical staff wasn’t able to clear her, or see her.” The man explained, causing her to nod, writing her down.

“I can get you a room, this way please.” My co-worker instructed as she put rhea in a room, some minutes passed, after taking her vitals, she placed her in a room, putting her folder in the slot on the door.

I walked back down after checking out a patient, contently huffing at how my night went, preparing to get off.

“I am so beat from today. Do we have anyone else to see before i clock out?” I asked, causing my co-worked to laugh a bit, giving me a nervous look, handing me a paper.

“Yep…and it’s someone special.” My co-worker said, before i raised my eyebrows before grabbing the folder, knocking before they said i could come in.

Revealing Rhea.

Rhea looked up as she sniffled, smiling through the pain of her face practically stinging and hurting.

“Ouch.” Rhea whined, rubbing her mouth completely, i can tell she took a bad bump.

I frowned at her as her face was red and tears were running all down it, she might’ve knocked a tooth out of place.

“Aww Baby.” I frowned as I walked up to her, hugging her as she wrapped her arms around my waist, just hugging me the whole time, she really was in pain.

Releasing the hug, i grabbed some gloves as i tried to gently see the problem on her face, her trusting me with her full ability.

Rhea has always been scared of doctors offices, but since i was a nurse, id make sure i was the only one who’d make her feel comfortable at a doctors office.

I tapped rhea’s chin, signaling to open her mouth before revealing her tooth, god she knocked something loose.

“What the hell—-What did you do to make your tooth shift back like that?” I asked, in a calm manner and for Demi? She was freaking out.

“I did?” Rhea frowned as she knew she wouldn’t be cleared to have her match, everything was ruined.

“I oversold a move and hit myself in the face with my knee, It gutted right on impact, glad I didn’t bite my tongue piercing.” Rhea sighed as i took my gloves off before wiping her face clean.

“I won the match.” Rhea spoke somewhat happy, making me smile as i checked her heart rate, making sure nothing was wrong making her play with my scrub strings from my pants, causing me to giggle.

I observed rhea very closely, something was on her mind heavily, causing me to stop checking her heartbeat, looking down at her.

“What’s on your mind pretty girl?” I asked, looking at her.

Rhea stayed silent for a second before speaking up.

“I guess it’s me losing my title match since im not gonna be cleared in time. I really earned it.” Rhea sighed.

“Things happen. And this was all an accident, it’s okay. If you don’t get cleared, you’ll have another title chance down the line. Promise. It’s worth it in the end.” I reassured as rhea smiled.

“Medical staff at your job wants you at the dentist this weekend, but for now, they said to make sure nothings wrong, I’ll put you on a little heart monitor to make sure everything is okay.”

“And a bag of ice for your cheek.” I smiled, signing off on her papers as she nodded, waiting for me to return.

After a new minutes, i checked her pulse to make sure it was fine as i attached the heart monitor to her shirt, giving her a bag of ice before letting her sign off on her discharge papers.

She’s gonna be at home for a couple of weeks, so it’ll be me making sure she goes to the dentist and just taking care of her.

“Thank you.” Rhea smiled as she gathered her things before she pecked our lips numerous of times before whining, breaking the last kiss, making me giggle.

“I’ll see you when i get home.” I reassured her before he held my hand, stuffing her face in my neck, just holding me, she’s such a baby.

“Promise?” Rhea said in my neck, kissing it.

I felt my knees buckle, literally. she knows my neck is my sweet spot.

“Promise baby.” I smiled as she released her face out my neck, before she left.

I turned back to my co-worker as she squealed, making me playfully roll my eyes.

“Aww! You two are so damn cute. *sigh* I wish.” She gushed, before she sat down, earning a laugh from me.

“You will one day. She’s a handful, but it’s all worth it.” I smiled, before turning to clock out.

time to go home to take care of my baby.

[themrsackerman]

Angel of Paradis

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Warnings: Spoilers from Season 4. Mentions of gun violence, blood, death

A/N: Now I know EP8 is only the beginning of the end but goddamn it hurts!! I love potato girl and losing her just tore me to bits. So here, take this. Its my way of coping I guess..

Levi is pissed off. From the start, he disliked the plan but it wasn't like Eren gave you all much of a choice. So the moment the kid got on the airship, he was welcomed with one of the captain's infamous kicks. The cockpit wall quakes with the impact and Hange sighs, shooting you a look. "I think you need to get out there and make sure Levi doesn't kill Eren, Y/n." She says exasperatedly and you nod, rising from your seat next to Onyankopon.

"I'll be right back." You say and she flashes you a knowing grin, shaking her head slightly. Even the commander knows you're the only one who could reign in the Levi Ackerman.

You see Levi on the corner glaring at Eren as he was being tied up. You sigh heavily, seeing Eren steaming as he heals. Jaw probably unhinged from the captain's kick. You sat beside him on the bench and pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his face clean from dirt and blood.

"Y/n-san." He greets you monotonously and you gave him a kind smile. "Hey, kid." You greet back, tucking loose strands of his now long hair behind his ear.

Your heart aches at the sight. He used to have so much fire, had the same will to fight for humanity that you only ever saw in your mentor, Erwin. Now all you see is ember of pure hatred and cold blooded need for revenge. "I'm glad you're okay." You murmur. Eren's blank stare softens for a second and a small smile hints the corner of his mouth. "Glad to see you too, Lieutenant." He says quietly and out of the corner of your eyes, you see Levi roll his eyes and make a disgruntled sound as he turns around.

You walk up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. Levi meets your gaze with his dull gray ones for a second and sighs, his expression softening too. At this you smile a little and say, "We still have a long battle to fight ahead of us, Captain. Things might not have gone smoothly, but we won today." You remind him and as if proving your point, right on the other side of the ship you hear the soldiers celebrate as they reunite.

"You're right." He agrees. Levi then takes a deep breath and grabs the hand you placed on his shoulder so he can bring it to his face. He turns his head and placed a chaste kiss on your palm. Your heart flutters at the gesture. It isn't grand but was still something you couldn't quite get used to. You two never declared your love for one another, never really had the luxury of time or chance to do so, but small acts like this was enough to let you know that your presence provided him the calm he sorely needs. And that was all you want. Be his peace in this war.

"I'm going to check if the rest of the squad made it back up." You tell him, grazing your thumb on his lower lip and he reluctantly lets you go. "Be back as soon as you can. Meeting will start as soon as this fucking monkey heals enough." He says, cold glare flashing at the other Jaeger who is a pile of steam still laying on the ground. "Okay, I'll just check on Lima's squad. They're the last ones to be picked up supposedly." Levi nods again and watches you leave before turning to talk to Yelena.

You smile past Floch and the other soldiers who are weeping, hugging and making their tributes for those whom had fallen in battle. You then saw three of the soldiers you've grown close with through the years. They were huddled in the corner, sharing a hug.

You hear Jean say in protest, "Dont hug people with that lump ass iron gear on.", while shrugging off Connie's arm. You chuckle at this and tackled him back to the embrace. "Shut the hell up, Jean. I would take Connie's armored hugs any day!" To which the trio whines out, " Lieutenant Y/l/n!!" when you squished them tight.

Although the new gear designed by Hange was in deed not made for hugging, you four relaxed in the uncomfortable embrace. Grounded by the fact that you all made it safe despite the battle you had just gone through. Connie and Sasha smile up at you while Jean tries to still look annoyed, although the softness in his eyes says otherwise.

The soldiers left below start coming in and the cheering just grows even louder. You didn't have the heart to stop them because you yourself are quite happy that today was a success despite some casualties. Now, you have the War Hammer titan as well and were able to destroy the fleet. Now, the Eldians' chance stands higher against this damn war.

"Did you hear that just now?"

Sasha asks out of the blue and you turn to her in wonder. Honestly you couldn't hear anything but the soldiers celebrating. But out of the lot of you, you know Sasha's sense of hearing is far superior than all of you combined. So you take a step back from the crowd and actually looked around.

"Hey, quiet down!!"Jean yells over the chanting but Floch shouts, "Make some noise! Victory!!!" And was echoed by the rest as they embraced and pumped their fists in the air.

"Hey!" Jean tries again only to be pulled by Connie to the side to ask, "Isn't Lobov-san still out there?"

"No, I think he came aboard." Jean says thoughtfully and this was when something didn't sit quite right with you. Commander Lobov is a man that is hard to miss. And with his dedication to this mission to make up for his years being a useless garrison, he would be amongst the soldiers cheering the loudest for the said victory.

Your instincts has never failed you before and its the very reason why you are so good at your job and able to survive this long. But sometimes, you wish that your instincts aren't always right because you always perceive danger. And right now, every fiber of your being is telling you something is fucking wrong.

That if you were to look out the airship right now, you'll probably see the commander lifeless.

Or worse, an enemy may have made its way up to the ship.

Your blood runs cold for a split second before you acted purely out of instinct. You shove Sasha to the side, dreading as you head for the airship's side door and at the exact moment.. someone aboards.

Your gaze met the kid's muddy brown ones. It was determined, filled with fury and you saw that there isn't any trace of hesitation as her finger pulls the trigger. You knew you didn't stand a chance judging by look on her face and her sure aim on your torso. The word of warning you want to let out was caught in your throat as she fires.

You remember seeing those crazed brown eyes and then the ceiling of the airship the next. The sensation of what can only be compared to fire piercing your skin spreads through your chest and insides like molten metal. You hear the indistinct noise of the soldiers' voices grow louder yet muffled at the same time around you.

From happy cheers to manic, hysterical screaming.

You couldn't catch your breath at first and you aren't sure from which. Was it from falling flat on your back? Or was it the searing pain that made tears leak from your eyes?

And then above the chaos, you hear your three closest comrades call your name in unison.

"Lieutenant Y/n, hey!!!" Connie's frantic voice shrill through the limited space of the ship. "Hang in there, hey!" You feel him rattle you, placing his rough calloused hand against your cheek. Jean's panic stricken face comes to your field of vision and you whimper,  "A kid." You gasp. "In the airship."

"Bandages! Now! We need to stop the bleeding!" Jean commands shakily and the rest of the soldiers that aren't capturing the two intruders scramble to get the med kit and the captain.

"Y/n-san, please hold on until we make it to the island!!" Connie pleads but hopelessness crawls his veins as he sees your blood flood the wooden floors.

"Keep him safe." You whisper out to nobody. The captain in mind. Your eye lids grow heavy but you didn't want to close them. No. You can't die. You promised him.

"Don't you dare die on me, Y/l/n." His voice echoes in your mind, compelling you to keep breathing despite how excruciating it feels.

Sasha who was frozen at first, snapped out of her shock as she hears Connie's voice call your name out of sheer panic when your eyes fall close. She then runs to meet the soldier carrying the bandages and was at your side in an instant. With trembling hands, Sasha tries with all her might to wrap you up and stop the bleeding.

"No, no, no, no!!" She starts sobbing while watching the bandage turn red, your gushing blood seeping through no matter how tight she puts the wrap around you. "Y/n-san, no, you can't leave us like this." Sasha hiccups, wiping her tears hastily before grabbing your now cold clammy hand and pressing it to her face. "Please!" She cries, eyes falling close.

If you hadn't pushed her, if you didn't step in her place, it would have been her that got shot. Guilt rakes through her as she watches you desperately fight for your life.

You can feel yourself drifting and you felt helpless. You then meet Sasha's, Jean's and then Connie's gaze, muttering with your remaining strength, "Protect him." And it was no request but an order.

Jean stumbles away, his hands going over his ears, unable to stand your labored breaths and Connie and Sasha's whimpering. Jean felt like hurling when Floch turned the kids to him. The other responsible for you being on the brink of death.

But to those two kids, they are the enemies who wreck havoc to their hometown. Floch wanted to kill them and throw them out but what good would that do? Would taking their lives save yours? And knowing you, who practically treat soldiers like them like your kids even though you were just a few years older than them, you would be disappointed in him at the mere thought of hurting these kids.

Jean can almost hear your angelic voice, "They're just children." You would say. So with a vexed expression and heavy turmoil growing within him, he ties them up and led them to where the captain and commander are.

Jean swallows hard when the captain's cold gaze met his and asks, "Who are these kids?"

By the looks of it, he still does not know.

"They killed Lobov-san and used his gear to come aboard." A lump forms in his throat, suddenly can no longer meet the captain's gaze. "A-and this one here, she.. shot Lieutenant Y/l/n."

Levi's eyes widen. Did he just hear Jean correctly? You? Shot? You were with him just minutes ago. No, how is that possible?-

"Captain, I-I don't think she'll make it." He continues, voice faltering. The grievance in Jean's face make Levi's blood run cold. He stumbles forward a bit as Armin and Mikasa run past him but he seemed frozen in his tracks.

No.

You got hurt but you'll pull through this. You always have. You promised him. And you are one of the toughest people he knows.

Levi tries to convince himself as he glared back at Zeke. He tries to distract himself from the cold fear of losing you with the blinding rage he feels for the Beast Titan wielder. But then, the door swings open again and Levi felt something terribly wrong right away.

And when Connie appears with tears sliding down his face and says,

"Y/n-san.. is dead."

Levi's entire world shifts.

Everyone was shellshocked for a moment. Because how could you be gone just like that? When you were just with them just minutes ago providing comfort to all of them? Passing by and giving them a wave of peace and calmness like the angel that you are.

Hange wobbles, her knees growing weak and its as if someone had punched her in the chest. The pain reminiscent as the day she watched Moblit vanish before her eyes. You were her right hand woman. Her confidant.

Eren's head hung in disbelief. His mind clouded by your kind smile just earlier and telling him you're actually glad to see him. Him. The monster who had just devastated a whole town and killed probably thousands of people. He thought that by now, he'd have gotten used to losing the people around him but losing you is gutting him. Its was like losing family. A sister.

"Connie.. did Y/n-san have any last words?" He asks mindlessly, wanting to know what your last thoughts were. Connie blinks through his tears and his eyes drifts to the captain, whose face was undreadable and knuckles threatening to split open at how tightly his balled fists are clenched.

"She said.. 'Protect him.'" Connie mutters and Levi's facade breaks.

The mob of weeping soldiers parted as the captain staggers to the back of the ship where you lay. Armin and Mikasa were still curled up beside you, their faces red and puffy from wailing. Both of them reluctantly stood up and stepped away as he walks closer. His gaze was still trained on the ground as he puts one foot in front of the other.

He shudders and stop midstep as his foot steps on the crimson stained wood. Before he knows it, he falls on his knees with a thud. Your pale hand comes into his field of vision and he takes a deep shakey breath as he reaches for it. His eyes darts everywhere but your face. The bandage on your middle, the boots on your feet that he had his fair share of shinning as his token of appreciation for you making his morning teas, the emblem of the Wings of Freedom embedded on your breast plate.

Your hand felt cold and stiff against his. A stark contast of the warmth it exuded on his cheek just moments ago.

"Y/n?" He croaks.

Suddenly his breathing shallows as the deafening silence stretches on. He can still smell you but can no longer feel you although you're right fucking there. Levi wanted this to some fucked up nightmare. But then, as he steels his nerves and finally looked at your face, his heart shatters.

Your hair is uncharacteristically dishevelled, e/c eyes lifeless, pupils middilated and your mouth parted ever so slightly.

Levi pulls you in his arms frantically, plethora of would have been and should have been anchoring his heart into a sea of regret.

He should have never let you out the damn door.

He should have held you tighter.

He should have you talked to you longer.

He should have told you.. he loves you.

He never even got to tell you.

Levi's face crumples, face reddening before a resentful yell erupts from him. The soldiers wince at the sound. It was pure agony and it pierces through each and everyone of them, bringing the lot of them back to tears if they ever stopped in the first place.

The entire flight back to Paradis, Levi held you the way he wished he did while you were still with him.

[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

[citrus-simp]

Hope everything is okay. I just wanted to say I love your writing and both blogs :) if you ever do open requests again, and even if you do you don’t have to write this. But how about a drabble of levi and his wife who have 2 sons and 1 daughter named Kutchel who is 3/4. Levi loves all his kids but kinda has a soft spot for kutchel🥺 and sometimes her brothers exclude her from play n are mean to her so she comes up to him trembling like “why won’t they play w me daddy”. Cue levi. Rest is up to u.

{AN}-> first of all, thank you so much for the love and support and of course for reading my work! And yes I am doing better thank you for the wishes! I am and ULTIMATE simp for papa Levi!

=================================

"I'm home" Levi called out as he slipped out of his work shoes and hung his blazer

"Dad! Look what I won today at practice!"

"Dad look at the grade I got o my test today!" your sons yell as they ran to their father holding up objects for him to look at.

Your eldest Liam who was 8 showed him what his football coach gave him, at practice. He had done very well and had gotten a button that said MVP on it, he was very proud of himself. Eli, your younger son who was 6, wanted him to know how well he was doing in his classes. He was top of his class and loved to show you both how hard he worked

"Congrats to both of you, I'm proud of you both for working so hard," he said ruffling their hair, gaining a big smile from them both

"Welcome home, Levi" you popped in with Kutchel in your arms, pecking Levi's lips. Your youngest and only daughter, Kutchel. She was 3, and definitely had Levi wrapped around her little finger.

The thing was, not only was she named after his mother, she looked so much like her! Of course, she had certain things from you but her eye shape, and nose were from his mother. Unfortunately, Levi lost his mother before Kutchel was born. It took a toll on him, all the things she had done to care for him, her sacrifice, everything.

He felt as though he was never able to repay her. Next thing you know about a year later, you found out about your pregnancy, with your first girl. The day she was born, Levi felt something he never had before. It was almost like he had completely healed from his loss when he looked at her.

"Papa!" she reached out for her father to take her, which he gladly did

"Hey there princess," he said kissing her chubby cheek "what did you do today?"

"Me and mama went to the park and I fed the birdies," she said with a rosy smile.

"Oh look at you doing big girl things! I'm so proud of you princess." he smiled at her and raised her above his head. Her brothers watching a bit disappointed from a distance.

Did they hate their sister? No. Their parents taught them to respect and love their sister, which they did. But at their age, jealousy was something big among siblings. Seeing how their father would be more affectionate towards their sister made them feel different. They saw that their father would gravitate more to their sister than to them. Or he would put her first before them when asked to spend time with them.

Of course, you had noticed this way before time. You had asked him when you were pregnant with Eli that he wouldn't have favorites and love all your kids equally. You knew that could make a bad relationship with his kids and between siblings so you wanted to avoid it. Sometimes you'd step in and try to give your sons the same praise, but of course, they still wanted their father's attention.

"Liam why don't you go and find a nice place to put that MVP button in your room, like a trophy" you try and lighten the mood "and Eli, I'm sure I have a frame for that test of yours" thank the god it actually worked as both boys run in different directions for each of their own things to do.

"Levi, did you see the boys' accomplishments?' you ask

"Y/N, I know where you're going with this. I paid attention to all of them, Liam is doing great in football, and Eli is practically a genius," he said putting down Kutchel

"*sigh* I know I just-"

"Want no one hurt I know, well how about you meet me in the kitchen and we can talk it out alright? Kutchel sweetheart, why don't you go and play with your brothers while I talk with mommy okay?" he said ruffling her hair

" 'Kay!" she said running up the stairs to where she'd find her brothers most likely.

"And what would this talk be about?" you ask raising an eyebrow as his hands found your waist

"Oh just about how I have some time to kiss you properly~"

>

" 'iam" Kutchel said as she enters his room, Eli in the same as they played together "can I pway with you and E-i?"

"No Kutchel, go away" Liam sneered "we don't play with babies"

"I'm not a baby!" she pouted

"Go away Kutchel, you're not smart enough to play this game either way," Eli said motioning to the board where he and his brother were playing chess "Maybe dad wants your company" Eli may be smart but he also got his father's sassy mouth

"B-but I wanna pway with you" he pouted trying not to cry as she sniffed

"Kutchel just go away, ugh you're so annoying when you cry"

"Yeah, and only babies cry."

"I-I not...a-a baby," she said as tears pooled in her eyes, of course, they would tease her playfully at times but this time Kutchel really did feel hurt

"Whatever, the only reason gives you so much attention is 'cause you were a mistake and he doesn't want you feeling bad" Eli sneered without thinking

"N-not true!" she stopped her feet as tears started to fall from her eyes, but she just couldn't handle any more ridicule from her brothers and left.

Meanwhile, you and Levi were in the kitchen caught in a makeout session when you heard a certain someone crying "Papa, mommy!"

It wasn't a regular call, she sounded hurt and heartbroken causing you both to separate quickly

"Kutchel, sweetheart what happened?" you ask as you kneel down and she crashes into your arm and lets out all her tears. Levi kneels beside you and strokes her back trying to comfort her some more

"P-papa, why won't 'iam let me play?" she asked her father as she peaked from your shoulder "T-they say I was a mistake.." she sniffed and you swore you could see the fire in his eyes. You stood up with Kutchel in your arms as Levi shot up and walked towards the stairs

"Levi! Levi, keep your anger in control, don't you dare-"

"Y/N, I won't do anything brash, but they can't say crap like that. I for sure didn't raise them this way. Just watch Kutchel, I'll talk to the boys"

Levi would NEVER lay a hand on his kids, but you didn't want him scolding either. However, they couldn't just say what they wanted to their sister thinking it was okay. Especially to the point of her crying.

"Come on baby, let's go watch the birds outside okay?"

Meanwhile, Levi is now knocking on Liam's door "Liam, Eli, come downstairs" he said while taking the lead waiting on them. He sat in a chair in front of the sofa and watched his sons take a seat. They looked like they knew what happened...

"Is there something you want to tell me? Like why Kutchel came to us crying? Asking if she was a mistake?" he said with a firm voice but not yelling at them. But enough to let them know he was very serious about the situation. Eli started to fidget with his fingers while looking down in his lap. Liam keeps eye contact with his father trying to keep a straight face.

"We didn't want to play with her so we said that so she'd leave..." Liam said

"That doesn't justify calling her a mistake. All three of you are here because your mother and I wanted you and we were happy as hell to have all of you."

"Even if you wanted all of us, it's not like you love all of us the same" Eli said crossing his arms

"Eli, that isn't-"

"you always put her first. Even if we come to you, whenever she comes you act more affectionate and happy with her just existing"

"We always have to do something just to get your attention...it sucks dad..." Liam added, "why can't you just love us how you love her?"

Levi was honestly hurt. He didn't want this to happen. He loved his sons to the moon and back. Maybe it was true that Kutchel got more attention from him but it didn't mean he didn't love them

"Boys, do you remember grandma?" Levi asked relaxing his posture a bit. Both boys nodded "Well, your sister looks a lot like my mother, it's why we gave her that name. I think I got attached to her in a way to cope with losing her. But I never want you to think I don't love you." he said kneeling in front of the two children

"The day you were both born were two of my happiest moments. You know I cried the first time you walked to me, Liam? And the day you told off Hanji made me laugh, Eli" he shared with them "I love Kutchel, but I also love you both to the end of my days. But I am sorry." he apologized opening his arms for them.

Hopping off the couch they have a warm group hug

"Alright, you two. I apologized but you still have some apologizing to do with your mother and sister," he said taking their hands and walking to the back porch where you sat with Kutchel

Levi clears his throat "You and Kutshcel have some visitors" he said with a nod to his hands

"Oh? What would these visitors like to say?" you ask in hope of a good outcome

"We're sorry we were mean to you Kutchel" Eli started

"Yeah, we didn't mean it, really. We were a little jealous but we never meant to hurt you. We love you" Liam followed

Kutchel pouted, not making eye contact "Really?" she asked

"Really really." they both offer a smile Kutchel jumps up from your arms and runs to hug her brothers. Walking over to Levi you kiss his shoulder and say

"Guess you'll be getting a reward for this accomplishment~"

===============================

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

Fri 28 May ‘21

Zayn’s rap EP??? Dropped yesterday???!? “Breaking my silence” says Zayn on Yellow Metal- Cathartic (Zayn is Yellow Metal here) and he DOES in 24 minutes of political, personal, complex and lyrically dense rap zoems! It was leaked/dropped whatever you wanna call it by being posted to Z’s cousin’s account (like the cover the other day); but clearly Zayn is behind these drops and that’s what matters, he is releasing this stuff in a way that will get to the fans but not inspire the media uproar (or contract issues) that posting to his own accounts would. As he says “don’t say I can’t communicate, you know I conversate with you in several different ways”, plus “I’ve had enough of being my own enemy, come a long way since 17, I have a few things to say when I get up on a microphone, I didn’t give up on fame I need this time like therapy it’s just to keep me sane… and to be honest it’s offensive, offensive to my still open wounds, trying to ask me questions they know they don’t have I ever replied, I prefer to sit down be online and respond to fanart,” I LOVE THAT. And the political content?! “What a family needs, and the planet bleeds, the damaged trees, it's never leaving to a real sense so FUCK THE FEDS” (or fuck the fence, not clear, either way, YES ZAYN!), “the snake that’s called Biden, none of them abiding by what they put in writing we should be used to it by now say whatever for the vote and then just chose another route say they’ll never kill another unless that brother’s skin is brown” and “been facing the racists back when I was a kid...kicked me out of the schools, they had a problem with me and the kids that would call me paki still sit in the classroom chilling, and now that I’m older I see they treat us different, got me thinking I was the problem cuz they never dealt with those issues, 20 years later I’m still in the same boat, tryna treat me like my grandpa, say I came up off the boat, came to tell you what I stand for, man I think this shit’s a joke. How can I be civil, when they got me by the throat, ‘Boy your skin is so light’, ok motherfucker take my name up on a flight, try to convince immigration that your bloodline’s half white, my name ain’t on the list unless they label it ethnic.” HELL YEAH ZAYN. PLUS: “never lose me to fentanyl, scared when I take a benadryl,” not gonna lie I LOVE to see this GOOD good good, "just became a dad so now I’m taking all the checks" HA yes get it, "trying to be a better person than the world deserves to see," and, “with a cigarette, sun coming up, write my thoughts on the internet, feeling deep, I'm just bored with the silhouette, get fucked up for the thrill of it,” “I’m just here for the rap then I’m leaving.” AND SO MUCH MORE all in Zayn’s excellent voice and accent, a GIFT that’ll take much more than a day to really unpack and appreciate!

And happy 28th, Louis is writing music! Looks like he is working with producer team Rick Parkhouse and George Tizzard in London (they call themselves Red Triangle Productions and put out music as SuperHi)- they posted a studio picture and tagged Louis. He’s just visible in the booth, singing. Also present- writer/ musician, Paul Whalley and songwriter Robert Harvey (The Music, The Streets) who were both posted and tagged Louis in as well. Louis followed Harvey. Hell yeah, what a line up! Not only that, Jamie Hartman answered a ProjectKMM participant’s question about other songs with Louis-- are they still working on new stuff? He says “I’m sure Louis has been working on new songs with lots of people!” [as we see, yes] “But yes we have done some too- who knows what will make the next album but he’s a top man and I would always write and hang w LT.”

Harry won Best Lyrics for Adore You at the iHeart Awards and Best Cover Song for Juice but failed to take the Artist of the Year or Song of the Year Categories, but more exciting than that- he’s listed as the Director of a new cosmetics and perfume company!!! People have been speculated about him doing something with Gucci Beauty for a long time now (he’s been noted to use their cosmetics, and definitely models their nail polish), and he has of course done perfume ads for them- there’s speculation that this could be for something with them, or it could just be a new thing of his very own. Well the Harry Styles palette would be a damn hit and we all know it, bring it on!

Anne Marie’s Big Weekend performance aired today and yes! She did Our Song with Niall! It’s the performance they recorded last week or so that we saw the pics from, yay first time getting to see them play it, but it was very quickly followed by the next time as their Jonathan Ross show performance also aired! And in case you’re sad about Niall’s previous promo buddies being replaced, there’s no need for that, he’s only adding to the pack; he tweeted Julia Michaels just today, “love ya hules” AWWW. He posted a bunch of cute OS video bts pics too, followed Oprah Winfrey and said he’d like to go to space and that he “would have liked to have been” a godfather to a 1D boy’s baby but “maybe the next one.”

Meanwhile Liam is looking at the fanart submissions he asked for- he retweeted a terrific drawing of himself laughing and said “this is amazing!” and liked a couple of other art posts. Feels like it’s about time for a monthly Liam catch up video, perhaps? Something else to look forward to!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Pawn: One

Bucky folded his arms and glared across the desk at Steve. “What the fuck do you mean “Step Daughter is the best we can do?”

Steve, unphased, snorted and leaned back in his desk chair, “It means what it sounds like unless you want to wait 10 years. You know. When you’ll be 40 and Rumlow’s guys have already put bullets in all our heads.”

Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. This whole thing was a nightmare. He didn’t WANT to marry anyone. But. Family ties were family ties and Rumlow was slowly and steadily encroaching on all their turf. A war was coming. And he needed to find soldiers and quickly. The easiest way to do that was a girl.

He just didn’t understand why it had to be THIS girl. Why it had to be you. You made his head ache. You made his eyes glaze over. When he saw you at a party, he went out of his way to avoid you. Sure. You were nice. You were quiet. Some people even said you were sweet. A good girl. And good girls didn’t make good mob wives. 

“Bucky, it could be worse,” Nat said shrugging. “It’s not like you have any better options than Stark.”

He fought the urge to throw something at her. He didn’t like feeling this backed into a corner. And he hated it more that she was right. Stark had money. And influence. He had a lot of clout. And refusing the offer could mean that anyone else would just shut the door in his face. He’d be left out in the cold and before he could blink, the empire he’d carved out for himself would evaporate. Like water on a hot pan. 

“She’s pretty,” Sam added shrugging, “She looks good in diamonds.”

“And quiet,” Steve mused, “A girl is always prettier when she knows when to shut up.”

Bucky didn’t have to look at him to know he was smirking at Nat as he said it. And he didn’t have to turn to know Nat was giving him the finger. Instead he walked across the office, stopping in front of the cold fireplace and touching the smooth, clear, crystal of the nearest pawn on the chess board. Thinking. 

For his father, Business had been a chess game. It was one he excelled at. Always 8, 9, 10 moves ahead. He was a slippery, underhanded son of a bitch. And he was… disagreements aside, a good man. He’d given Bucky a solid foundation. One that had been building since his great grandfather first stepped off the boat at Ellis Island. And now… if he didn’t play the game right, he was going to lose it all. 

He picked up the pawn and watched it roll in the palm of his hand. The light of his desk lamp making it glimmer. It was asinine to him, the idea that his future all depended on a girl. One that Stark was fond of sure… but how fond could he be if he was willing to use her for leverage? Could that little affection be enough of a pull to get his help? Would the girl even try? She’d be a pawn. A sacrificial lamb. Bucky could feel the eyes of his friends on his back as he stared at his hand feeling like a heel. He may not like you but.. It was this or a plot next to his dad. And, sometimes. Even pawns won the game. 

“Set up a meeting,” he said finally, “And someone get the lawyers. We’re going to need a hell of a prenup.”

______

“Pull up a seat, kid,” Tony said pouring himself a drink from the decanter on his desk and leaning back in his chair. 

The haze of cigar smoke was thick. And you could tell from his missing tie and unbuttoned shirt sleeves that today had been a rough day. So you sat, forgoing the lecture about smoking. For now. 

“Papa,” you start tentatively, crossing your ankles and pushing up your glasses, “What-”

Tony cut you off with a gesture and sighed, “Someone asked me if they could marry you today,” he said bluntly, and then snorted at the flicker of confusion on your face. 

“I’m not dating anyone,” you say slowly. 

“And James Barnes would like to change that.” 

He took a sip of his drink and watched your reaction. As a rule, everything you wanted to say was written all over your face. But not today. Your brain seemed to have shorted out. At least for a moment. He could see the wheels spinning before they caught traction. 

“Wants to or needs to?” you counter, sitting up and helping yourself to a drink. Tony’s been your father figure since you were 6. You know a negotiation when you see one. And you know a little bravado can go a long way. 

“So you do pay attention,” he chuckled, nodding approvingly. 

You shrug and make an impatient gesture, “Please. He’d been defending his little patch for years.” You had a lot of respect for Barnes, truth be told. He was tenacious. And savvy. Both were qualities you could appreciate. You knew from being at Tony’s elbow for so long that you could do a lot with very little if you knew how to use what you had. “The fuck am I supposed to be?”

Tony quirked an eyebrow. You knew he hated it when you swore. And when he didn’t say anything you were more than a little surprised. And even more surprised when his shoulders sagged and he looked a little ashamed of himself. “A representation of a united front,” he sighed. “Rumlow’s been getting bigger for years… I know it’s medieval but-”

“What’s mom say?” you snapped impatiently. You hate this. Everything about this. And even more you hate that if Tony tells you what to do, you’ll do it. Because he’s family. Because Morgan is still so little. And because you know that even Tony can’t hold Rumlow off forever. Not without help.

He flinched, “She told me that I was an asshole for entertaining it but-” He stopped and looked at you. He could see the war on your face. He can see that you’d love to call him a dick and storm out. That you’d like to throw a paperweight at his head and tell him no. But he can also see the resignation. That he could ask and you’d do it. If only to make him happy. To keep him safe so that Morgan doesn’t ever have to be lonely or scared or without a dad.  

“Kid-” He starts but stops when you hold up a hand and pinch the bridge of your nose, bowing your head to shut your eyes against the tears that are threatening to fall. 

“You know what I’m going to say,” you sigh, sitting up straight slowly and taking a drink of your brandy. 

“Thank you,” Tony said sincerely. He wanted to hug you and kiss the side of your head. But he knew that you felt prickly. Irritated. And that it would probably feel more like a restraint than affection. 

“I want total control over planning the wedding, A nice allowance, and money to renovate whatever he has the nerve to call a house,” you say simply. 

“What, no diamonds?”

“Oh no. That too,” you snorted. If you were going to be a pawn, you were going to be a well taken care of pawn.

And Tony couldn’t help but laugh. 

[bonjour-rainycity]

Making Amends

Summary: Five years, you thought he was gone for good. After the War, he disappeared. Now, after months of zero contact, he shows up at your bridal salon. A somewhat bitter Reader and a post-FATWS Bucky

Pairing: Bucky x F!Reader

Word count: 2381

Warnings: Mentions of past violence and killings, adult language

I sigh, securing the train of the dress so it doesn’t drag against the floor. The dress is stunning, as they all are. This one—pouffy, ivory, grand—has a bateau neckline and falls to the floor in a long, glittering train.

The glitter gets everywhere.

I bend down, trying to wipe some of it off my pants leg, then work on my blazer. Every day, only black clothes. It’s tradition, but a stupid one — the glitter stands out on my clothes more than it does on the white dresses.

“Miss, someone’s here to see you.”

I grit my teeth, digging my hands into the fabric of the dress. The receptionist is young — barely out of her teens, really — and still quite new at her job. She, like others, disappeared on that awful day five and a half years ago.

The day I lost everything.

And she’s here today because of my friends’ sacrifices.

I try to remind myself to be patient. “We’re appointment only, Lydia. Tell her to call, make an appointment, and come back then.”

“R-right,” she stammers, and I can hear the bottoms of her heels scraping against the floor as she shifts her weight. “It’s just—well, he said it’s really important, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

That gives me pause. He?

As a product manager at a bridal salon, my day is mostly spent in the company of women. Brides, their mothers, bridal parties, wedding planners, etc. There’s the occasional fiancé, father, brother, friend come to support, or a groom shopping for a dress, but overall, men tend to stand out.

“Fine, send him in,” I allow. It’s obvious he’s not listening to Lydia, but I know I’m more intimidating than she is. I’ll tell him to schedule an appointment. “And then do me a favor — there’s a list of designers on my desk upstairs. Can you give their offices a call and update the contact info for each brand representative?”

She sounds relieved. “Sure, no problem.”

As the sound of her heels meeting the ground fade away, I breathe in the sweet, floral-scented air. We’re under-booked today. There are only a few brides occupying our east fitting rooms, so I’ve decided to spend my afternoon in the west, making everything look perfect for the weekend ahead. Having this section alone — just me, the soft piano music playing over the speakers, and the dresses — is almost peaceful.

It would be peaceful if I were anyone else.

I continue to straighten the dresses. Everything needs to be perfectly spaced, meticulously tucked and folded to make each dress impressive in its own way. There’s no room for imperfection, here.

The sound of heavy boots clicking on the floor rings through the empty room. “Hey, Doll.”

My body runs cold.

That voice. I know it well.

My mind flashes to late nights, stealing smiles and kisses, tight hugs, adoring eyes.

And then falling to the ground in grief. Changing outfits to attend my second funeral of the day. His. And, after years of grieving, healing, and suffering through, one chance to fix it all. The joy of having him back. Locking eyes on the battlefield.

And then nothing.

Nothing.

All my air leaves me in one, quick, sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I turn, both dreading the sight and longing for it.

And just like that, standing between two rows of eggshell and pearl and ivory, he’s here.

Dark denim jeans, a deep blue shirt—long sleeve, knowing him—a grey button-up open on his chest, and two thick gloves, despite the summer heat.

I cross my arms.

He purses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, crossing one foot over the other casually. “So, bridal, huh?”

I feel my jaw clench. “I’ve got to make a living, don’t I? Evidently you do, too.” I can’t stop the bitterness from seeping into my voice.

He sighs that long-suffering sigh, one that tells me he’s more resigned than upset. “I wanted to come back.”

I turn my attention back to the dresses, walking down the row of gleaming white. “No one was stopping you.”

He turns to face me as I continue my inspection of each and every gown. “It’s not that simple. I—I was working hard. I had to get freed from him.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to feel something. But of course, I do. Ever since I’ve known Bucky, he’s been wrecked by the things he’s done and terrified he’ll be called to do them again.

Terrified that he’ll lose his mind once again to the assassin.

When I saw him on TV, in a random news report from months ago, I’d broken down into sobs. I’d fallen to my knees and said prayer after prayer of thanks. Because the clouds had faded from his eyes. The fear, the ever-present dread, was gone. He stood taller, more assured —

Happier.

I knew then, that somehow, he’d gotten the Winter Soldier out.

I bend down, fluffing layers of crinoline in a ballgown. “You’ve been in the news.”

He hears the accusation in my voice. You’ve been back for months.

He approaches me slowly, coming to stand in front of me as I straighten. “I had a job to do.”

“What, the new Captain America doesn’t allow cell phones?”

He ignores the jab. “Doll, I had to wait to make sure, to be sure, but I’m safe, now. I’m not him anymore.”

“Bucky, I always felt safe with you,” I whisper, the emotion nearly winning. “I loved you more than anything. And despite what you said — that you loved me, too — you just left. Five years I waited for you. I didn’t think there was any way I would ever see you again, and then by some miracle, after so much loss, you came back! We fought in a war together. We killed. And we won. And then you disappeared. It’s been six months! I-I mean, I hate to think the worst, Bucky, but I really thought—” I cut off my words then, unable to continue without dissolving into tears.

His jaw tightens in that heartbreaking way it does when he’s sad, and he reaches forward. When I don’t protest to his gloved hand on mine, he pulls me into a hug. I want to melt into him. I want to collapse under nearly six years of unresolved grief, stress, worry, and let him hold me up, let him bear this burden for just a few minutes.

But that’s not the way I’m made.

I’ve entrusted my heart to him too many times.

And every time, I’m left alone and broken.

I push myself out of his arms, wiping my tears away quickly. Once again, the dresses act as my anchor, my distraction. I gather one in my arms, crossing the aisle to re-hang it in its proper place.

Bucky watches from a distance.

His hands are tucked into his pockets, and he looks at me sadly for a while before his eyes turn to the ground.

Silence falls between us. The only noises are the coos of elated brides and their adoring guests coming from the east side of the building.

After a while, Bucky raises his head towards me. “Does working here make you want it?”

I sigh. He can’t do that. Can’t come in here after so much time away with zero contact and then casually ask me stupid questions. “Want what?”

“You know,” he shrugs, leaning against the receptionist’s desk. “It. A wedding, a marriage, a…life.”

I purse my lips, shaking my head. I reach to adjust a hanger slightly out of my arm span, trying my hardest not to sound sad. “I’m not the kind of girl you marry, Buck. Not anymore.”

He scoffs, making a face. “What does that even mean?”

I turn on him, more than done with this conversation. “Exactly that! I see it every day — brides come in here, all starry-eyed, happy, innocent. They’ve got love, or at least the excitement of planning their ‘big day,’ and they just glow with all the life in them. I don’t have that, not anymore. I—” I lower my voice, gritting my teeth against the emotion that attempts to fight through. “I’ve killed people, Bucky. For a long period of time, that’s all I did. And, look, I’m really, really happy for you being able to heal and move on and be freed, but I can’t do that. I can’t come back from who I turned out to be.”

“That’s bullshit. You did what you had to do.” He pushes himself off the receptionist’s desk, adamant. “Every life you took was to stop the slaughter of others. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I can.”

We stare each other down.

He’s always had a good stare.

Steady, intimidating, unwavering. It’s like he can see into the depths of your soul and know he can outlast you.

But I work with furious mothers of the brides.

I raise an eyebrow, showing him I will not back down from this challenge.

He blinks and moves his gaze past my right shoulder. Something shifts in his eyes. “You’ve got a client.”

I force my expression to soften, maneuvering around Bucky to grab the clipboard from the receptionist’s desk. I give him a look that clearly says do not move, and hurry to the front door to welcome the bride and her guests in. Amidst the flurry of excited chatters, gushing about wedding plans, and a clear description of what she does not want, I check them in on the clipboard and take them to the east wing to meet a consultant. When I return, Bucky is exactly where I left him.

He smirks at me. “What the hell was that? Your voice rose like three octaves.”

I roll my eyes. “It’s called customer service.”

He shrugs, leaning against the desk in a way I should not find ridiculously attractive. “Well, why don’t I get any of that?”

I grit my teeth. “Because they are going to buy a dress, which will pay my salary, which will make me happy. You on the other hand, have caused me nothing but anger, sadness, and worry.” I blink, absently shocked that all that truth escaped despite my best efforts.

Something flashes in Bucky’s eyes—regret, maybe—but he covers it well, tilting his head to the side and keeping his playful tone. “Really? Nothing but that? Gosh, I must have been a terrible boyfriend.”

I dig my teeth into my lower lip, staring down at my clipboard. It’s been six months. You may as well continue with the honesty. You don’t know the next time you’ll have a change to talk to him like this. “Buck…” I approach him slowly, buying myself time. Too soon, I come to stand in front of him. “You were a great boyfriend. I…” I sigh, shaking my head. “I thought you were it. I didn’t want anyone else. And we were happy, overall. You know—up until you disappeared without so much as a text and ignored me for six months.”

A muscle twitches in his cheek. He leans forward, locking his eyes with mine. “We were good together. I loved you, more than anything, I—well Doll, I still love you. And look, I know I’ve messed up. In more ways than seems is humanly possible, but I,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’m as clean as I’m ever gonna get. I shouldn’t have disappeared without warning. I should’ve called when I left Wakanda. I should’ve let you hear from me rather than seeing me on the news. I should’ve come back and done the work to rebuild what I broke. I’m sorry. I really am.”

I feel the clipboard digging into my stomach. I don’t move. I stare at him, terrified of the way his words, the honesty in his eyes, makes me react. Too easily, my walls are coming down. “What did you come here for?”

“I—just,” he digs his hands into his pockets, sighing lowly. “I’m back in town. And I’m here to stay for a while. If you’d allow it, I’d like to try to make amends.”

Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t set yourself up for more pain.

In the face of my silence, he nods slowly, taking on a look of sad understanding.

“I work till seven.” The words rush from my mouth before I can stop them, before I can think of the consequences. I grip the clipboard even tighter.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, the start of a smile tugging at the edge of his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nod, my heart racing at the prospect of being with him again, of maybe fixing things. “I live in the same apartment.”

He grins fully now, but at my stern look, attempts to wipe it off his face. I’m still mad at him, he shouldn’t get too comfortable yet.

But the light doesn’t leave his eyes and, despite my fear that this will all turn out terribly for me, I feel my own lips threatening to turn up.

He pushes himself off the desk, standing closer to me than I think either of us intended. “Can I take you out?”

I release a long breath, not moving from my spot despite our proximity. “Yes.”

He nods slowly, not pulling his gaze from mine. “It’s a date.”

“It’s a trial period,” I correct, unable to keep myself from teasing him a little.

He tilts his head to the side, laughing indulgently. “Alright, I deserve that. Then, sure, I’ll pick you up at eight for our trial period.”

He smirks cockily at me, winking in that way he knows makes my knees weak, before turning and swaggering to the door.

Despite our play, he’s not getting off this easy. There’s a lot we have to work through, and we might not even be compatible anymore — he knows that, too.

But for just this moment, I allow myself to enjoy feeling comfortable with him, joking like we used to. When his gloved hand reaches for the doorknob, I call after him, keeping my tone light. “You’re on thin fucking ice, Barnes.”

He turns his head to mine, nodding solemnly in a way I didn’t expect. “I know, Doll.”

A/n Whoops, couldn’t get this one out of my head after seeing Bucky in FATWS, so here’s some angst, bitterness, and hopefully a little hope! 

|masterlist|

[princessphilly]

All Bets Are Off: Chapter 1

Word Count: 2068

CW: not yet, except for some bad language

Note: I don’t always write long chapters. Some may be closer to 2000, some closer to 5000, it depends on the chapter and what is going on. 

taglist: @nazdaddy @texanstarslove @shortstacks-blog @missymore @hockeywocs @puckbitchesgetmoney @defiant-mouse @myhockeyworld87 @chicagostylehockey​ @barriesweet

Join the tag list here!

Chapter 1

“Look at my girl, moving up in the world!”

Nina could hear her mother’s voice in her head as she moved around in her office in the Lemieux Training Complex. Today was her first day working not just as a physical therapist for UPMC but as a physical therapist for the Pittsburgh Penguins and Nina felt like she was going to burst from nervousness. ‘Not bad for a girl from Clairton,’ Nina thought as she went through her schedule.

Nina had pledged never to come back to Western PA when she graduated from Clairton High. Now, almost eight years later, she was back and working with the hometown hockey team. After doing undergrad at Penn State, aka grades 13-16 with everyone from the area usually going there, Nina went down south to the University of Florida for her Doctor’s in Physical Therapy after getting her B.S. in Kinesiology. The warm weather was so much better than the fucking snow of Western PA but UPMC was offering the most money out of all of Nina’s job offers. After thinking about her student loans, UPMC was a no fucking brainer.

Taking a centering breath, Nina pasted her best professional smile on her face and got ready to go meet her first client. Before she could do that, her door opened and three men stepped in.

“Here is our newest physical therapist. Unlike Mike and Trent, Nina is a DPT,” Rick Dvorak, the head physical therapist explained to the two men with him.

Nina smiled and reached out her hand. “Good morning, my name is Nina Jackson, nice to meet you.”

Of course, she knew who the two other men were. One was Super Mario, Mario Lemieux, Pittsburgh legend and co-owner of the Pens. Next to him was Sidney Crosby, superstar who had just won his third Stanley Cup. Mario had a friendly professional smile but Sidney was looking at her like she… Nina didn’t quite know how to place that look. She kept her professional smile on her face while inwardly grimacing. Of course, the star of the team would feel some way about a black physical therapist.

“Sid looks a little starstruck,” Mario joked.

Sidney laughed self-consciously, his cheeks reddening adorably. Nina kept a straight face, thinking, ‘I hope I never have to treat him.’

Sidney smiled and his whiskey-brown eyes brightened. “Just a natural reaction to a pretty girl.”

Nina rolled her eyes inwardly, her professional smile getting strained. Sidney wanted to give himself a bag skate as he could tell that she was turned off. He felt awkward as hell and he wanted to curse but this wasn’t the time. He laughed, wishing that he wasn’t anywhere but here. Nina replied, “I’m used to turning heads but I didn’t quite expect to do that here,” with a laugh.

Sidney had met his fair share of gorgeous women, probably more than his fair share. Yet, his breath was taken away when he first saw her. Clear brown skin, dimples when she smiled, and dark brown hair pulled into a bun, nothing unique. But when Nina smiled, all Sidney wanted to do was drown in her smile and see what he could do to keep her smiling like that forever. Then, he got a look at the rest of her body and Sidney wanted to not only keep her smiling forever, he also wanted to find out what would get her to scream his name.

Then he faltered and realized that he really had goofed. Nina’s hand was still outstretched and he forgot to shake it. Sidney gave Nina an apologetic look and took her hand.

Nina didn’t know what happened when Sidney took her hand but she felt something electric, hot, and intense as hell. It was scary and she carefully pulled her hand back as soon as she could. Whatever it was, Nina was sure it was just another omen that today was going to be the worst day on earth.

Sidney gave Nina his best smile when she let go. He never felt such a connection when he had met a woman before but fuck, he had to change her mind about him.

Nina spent the next five minutes mentally willing the team owner, the captain, and her boss out of her office while making small talk. Luckily, the men left pretty quickly after wishing her luck on her first day working with the team. Sidney Crosby was the last to leave and Nina busied herself with arranging her papers. She could feel his eyes on her and Nina had no desire to interact with him. Then he finally left and she sighed deeply. Nina took several deep breaths before refocusing herself on her day ahead.

**

“Nina Latreice Jackson, now you know I ain’t raise no fool!”

Nina let out a low groan as she thought about another thing her mother loved to say. As much as it seemed like Crosby didn’t like her, Nina decided that she would be completely professional in every way. It wasn’t that hard; athletes were pretty much the same no matter where they were. Just like the Florida Gators players she worked on while in school, the Pens players fell under several categories. There were the jokers, the serious ones, the ones who lived to flirt, and players who fell under all of the categories.

For her first weeks, Nina worked at creating a professional boundary with the players she was working with. For the majority of the time, they were decently behaved. It was mid-season so there were all kinds of lingering issues, some more serious than others. Nina figured out pretty quickly that some of the players were going to follow directions while others were going to slack off until their issue made it impossible for them to ignore it.

However, today was her first day working with Sidney Crosby after her first day. Like she expected, it was a little awkward and his teammates didn’t help. The leader of the chirping was Geno Malkin. The guys kept walking by, sending suggestive looks and comments. Sidney’s cheeks were a dull red midway through the session. After a while, Nina got annoyed. 

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when Geno and Jake came by for the third time, making kissing noises. Nina snapped, “Unless you need treatment, I don’t understand why you are in here.”

“Ouch,” Geno replied as Jake laughed. “She mean.”

Sidney rolled his eyes as he gave his teammates a warning look. As Nina wrapped his ankle, Sidney tried to take several deep breaths. He had rolled it a bit during practice. It wasn’t major but with the other trainers unavailable, Nina had decided to look at it.

“Why are you so stiff?”

Sidney looked up at Nina. She was checking out his ankle with pursed lips but when her eyes met his, Sidney sucked in a breath. Nina was really… words failed.

“I’m waiting,” Nina prodded with a sarcastic chuckle. This was making her feel really uncomfortable. All of the others players were relatively easygoing but the captain, he was so stoic around her. It made her feel like he didn’t really want her and Nina had observed enough over the last weeks that whatever Sidney wanted, he got. If he said one thing, she would lose the extra money from working with the team and Nina couldn’t afford that.

Sidney gulped before deciding just to admit the truth. “It’s a bit hard to be around such a beautiful woman like you.”

Nina laughed before giving Sidney a sardonic smile. Sidney felt his heart break into two. He didn’t even get a chance to ask her out before fucking it up. “It’s true,” he whispered.

Nina swallowed before focusing back on his ankle. “You should be good, Mr. Crosby. I don’t diagnose injuries; I just help treat them but you should be good to go for the next practice and everything.”

“Call me Sidney.”

Her eyes met his again and Sidney was looking at Nina with the most earnest expression she had ever seen.

“Ok, Sidney,” Nina forced out with a fake smile.

Sidney groaned before getting off the table and sliding his feet into his crocs. Nina took a deep breath and rolled her eyes after he left.

Gretchen, one of the athletic trainers, came in and snickered. “I’m surprised he made it without self-combusting.”

“What?”

“Yinz don’t know? He likes you, Nina,” Gretchen explained.

Nina shrugged. “Yeah, right.”

“He’s always staring-“

Nina interrupted Gretchen as she said, “I’d rather go and get lunch. Panera Bread sound good?”

**

 Nina counted herself lucky that she was able to avoid Sidney after that day. Her luck ran out in the worst way. Nina was rushing out to make it to a dentist appointment when she ran into a hard chest. Tripping over her feet, Nina fell on her butt. 

“Owww!”

“Are you okay?”

Nina looked up and it was Sidney Crosby, of course, holding out a hand. She cautiously grabbed it and let him pull her up off the floor. Like the first time they met, Nina felt the electricity when their hands touched. This time, Sidney held her hand even after she was off the floor. 

“Seriously, are you okay,” Sidney pressed. 

Nina felt her cheek feel hot as she replied, “Seriously, I’m fine. It was an accident.”

“I mean, I don’t want to give you more reasons to hate me.”

For the first time, Nina noticed that Sidney looked vulnerable. Pulling her hand out of his grasp, she murmured, “I don’t hate you. I think you’re the one who may hate me.”

Sidney blinked in surprise. “I don’t hate you! But I would love to take you out for dinner sometime.”

Something made Nina feel instantly happy at his words that he didn’t hate her and wanted to take her out but it couldn’t work. “Nice to know that you don’t hate me but dinner isn’t going to happen. I gotta go, I’m going to be late!”

Sidney watched Nina race out of the building to her car. He was losing and he wasn’t used to losing. Gritting his teeth, Sidney vowed to himself that he would get Nina to warm up to him, sooner or later.

**

“Hey girl, how was your appointment?”

Nina smiled as she FaceTime with her best friend Lauren. “Not bad, no new cavities or anything. I talked with Dr. Smith about maybe getting adult braces and she said I don’t really need them.”

“Sounds good for someone who was freaking out,” Lauren teased. “So, what’s going on at work? Meet any hot players? Anyone you’d hook me up with?”

“Girl, no. I keep it strictly professional with them. I don’t even want them thinking anything is going to happen,” Nina replied. She half considered sharing her interactions with Sidney Crosby with Lauren but her BFF had a bad case of loose lips when drinking. So, Nina kept that to herself. 

“Is Sid hotter in person than he is on TV? You know I love my Steelers but I gotta know.”

Nina snorted before saying, “Meh. He’s alright.”

“He’s alright,’ Lauren said in disbelief. “Oh, there’s a story here.”

“There’s nothing because I deal with him at work now and then.” Nina rolled her eyes as Terrible Tess, her cat jumped in her lap. Steely, her dog, was at her feet. “Anyway, did you get the tickets for the game yet?”

Lauren was a lawyer and one of the perks was tickets to Steelers games, usually either in a box or on the 50-yard line. As diehard fans, Lauren and Nina tried to take advantage of that perk as much as possible. Lauren stated, “Oh yes, we got tickets. And there’s this guy…”

Nina listened to Lauren talk about her newest guy she was interested in as she petted Terrible Tess. As much as she didn’t want to, she couldn’t help but think of the look on Sidney’s face when she basically told him thanks but no thanks. He actually looked hurt; not an egotistical hurt that most men got when they were told that they aren't as great as they thought they were. But it was like an honest hurt. It didn’t matter though; past heartbreak taught Nina that getting involved with anyone even affiliated with work was the worst idea ever.

[writing-in-april]

The Big Bluff

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer goes up against a professional poker player.

A/N: This is almost a purely self indulgent fic, once I had this idea I really really wanted to write it for myself. I wrote all of this today while sick so I’m proud of myself lmao. Also ‘the woman’ Is definitely inspired by Irene Adler. Thanks for letting me have the third person today @zhuzhubii (inside joke thanks to)and thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me figure out where the story was gonna go. Last day of my 500 follower celebration!! I did 7 fics in 7 days!! Thanks y’all so much for supporting me!!

Warnings: Smut, Fighting for dominance, Hand job, Spitting, Fingering, Choking - uhh should be it.

Masterlist Word count: 2.3k

The casino lights were bright as she walked in through the main entrance of the casino that was dripping in finery. She was a vision in red, dressed to the nines in a red dress that left little to the imagination. She was here to blow off some steam, though not in the way people would assume. The woman in red was a professional poker player, normally playing high stakes games that were also televised for people’s enjoyment. Usually people would try to escape what they did at work on the weekends, but not her as she rather enjoyed the adrenaline that pumped through her veins just as she was about to win.

A man sat across from her at the table she chose with fluffy brown hair that curled slightly and wearing clothes that didn’t fit with the overall aesthetic of everyone else there. She would have assumed normally that he was an amateur player, only here to blow off steam (Plus his money) for the weekend by playing poker and laying in bed with someone. There was something about his demeanor however the way he acted just subtly arrogant as he waited for the dealer to start, that told her that he was the one to watch during the game.

Sure enough after the first round he had won, the woman lost nothing in the hand as she had folded right when she realized she’d gotten a bad hand. Worry still had creeped up on her as she gazed at the man who looked more like a teacher’s assistant rather than a poker player, she couldn’t be seen to lose even if this wasn’t a high stakes game, she had a reputation to uphold. She could’ve left the table, gone to find some easier people to swindle, but the challenge to bring the mystery man down was too hard to ignore.

During the next round her eyes almost never left the stranger only looking down every so often at the cards she had been dealt. It got to the point in the game where everyone had folded besides her and the man, she had been raising the stakes too high for everyone else to be comfortable with participating even if they thought they had a good hand. The whole table sucked in a breath as she went all in with her bet, no one at the table seemed to be able to get a read on her, including the man who thought he was unbeatable.

“I fold.” A triumphant smirk came across her face while taking a celebratory gulp of the wine she had ordered as the man had finally admitted defeat, this was exactly the kind of adrenaline rush she had been searching for. The look on his face was pure rage, she got the sense that he hardly got angry probably because he hardly lost.

She raked in all the chips she had earned, but then decided to not show her winning hand. It was far more satisfying to her to see the frustration on everyone’s faces, to see them try to figure out her game. Was she bluffing or not?

Once she had cashed them in she left to go to her hotel in a cab that she had called until she saw the man waiting by the entrance waiting and stopped. He looked like he was waiting for someone rather impatiently by the way he was tapping his foot.

“Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yeah you.” He remarked rather simply, his foot still tapped impatiently clearly fed up with her even though the amount of words they had spoken to each other could be counted on two hands.

“Why are you looking for me?” She played the part of a coy woman perfectly, she knew exactly why he was looking for her. His cocky demeanor at the table had quickly given away to her that he rarely lost any hand that he was dealt, whether it was a bad one or not.

“How did you win? Were you bluffing? You must have been bluffing...Or you just got lucky...” His ranting would’ve been cute in any other circumstance, the fact that he had assumed what had gone down, that she was in fact only lucky or bluffing made her blood boil.

“How did you get away with card counting?” She countered back a little irritated that he had assumed that the only way she could win was if she was bluffing or getting lucky. He seemed caught off guard by her question, unable to comprehend how someone had caught him after mastering the subtle art of card counting over the years. Though she was irritated at him, she still wanted to know more about the man who looked more like a teacher's assistant than a poker player, even if she had beaten him it was still obvious that he was good at the game. “What’s your name?”

“Spencer.” His impatience was even worse now looking almost frantic at her slow pace in the conversation, he was more focused on her skills rather than her name.

“Well- Spencer it was nice to meet you, but I have to get going, better luck next time.” She wasn’t dumb, she knew he was going to follow her out to her cab, her real aim was to hopefully get him to come back to the hotel with her. She may have been looking for a poker game to release some tension, that had somewhat worked, however this game seemed far more fun.

“Please- I need to know.” His shouted out words had attracted the attention of a few casino goers who were not happy with the fact that a man was yelling right outside the doors of the casino. The little wave he gave as an apology before sprinting a little to get closer to her was cute, deepening her desire to take the man for a ride, maybe he wasn’t as much of a hot arrogant asshole that she thought.

“Why don’t you come with me if you want to find out.” She flashed him a coy smirk before ducking into the cab. The man she now knew as Spencer may be arrogant when it comes to his poker skills, but underneath it all she could tell there was a man that was intriguing. She wanted to get to know him beyond his card counting skills and possibly jump his bones. The fact that he was gorgeous did nothing but stoke the fire that he ignited during their heated conversation.

Spencer did take up her offer and got into the back seat with her. Though, whether he had caught onto the other game that they had started to play was still a mystery to her.

They had made it up to her room in the swanky hotel on the strip, being a professional did bring her in big money. The look in his eyes as he stood waiting near the door told her that he had definitely caught onto the game she had carefully set up for them. There was still a way to back out, to exit through the door where he came from, there was no chance in hell he was backing away from the woman he found infuriating but extremely gorgeous.

“You still haven’t given me your name.” The one thing that was holding him back, the fact that he still didn’t know her name. The name fell from her lips dripping with seduction, she was irresistible to him almost nothing could make him leave the room.

He surged forward to capture her lips with his own, he expected to gain dominance over the kiss swiftly though it was more difficult than he first expected. He was met with a pair of lips that wouldn’t let him gain access that he wanted, he tried to slip his tongue into her mouth but was quickly barred from entering.

She would not be giving up dominance easily.

“Condom?” He said breathlessly into my lips while she worked on the buttons of his shirt after I had hastily pushed his cardigan off and tossed it somewhere in the room.

“In my purse.” She released him to rummage through the purse that had dropped onto the floor in their haste. Once she had found what she was looking for she stood up to find Spencer sitting at the edge of the bed, belt now discarded with his slacks undone.

She moved to stand just slightly in front of him then pulled the straps of her red dress down until it pooled onto the floor. Their eyes were both blown with lust only focused on each other. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath besides a lace red thong to match the dress. Spencer was practically salivating at the sight of her only in heels and a thong, he was so distracted by it that he was caught off guard when she moved to straddle him while also pushing him to lay flat on his back.

Pulling his boxers down just enough she pulled his cock out, he was half hard at this point, she was already impressed with his size though she masked it with her practiced poker face.

“Now you’re going to sit back and look pretty while I have my way with you.” The anger on his face was prevalent in response to her words, the fight was taken away from him when she spit into her hand and started to jerk his length. Her hand moved up and down in a teasing manner not getting him even close to the edge, his moans caught up in his throat though one did escape in frustration after she had almost completely pulled away from him. Finally he had enough of her teasing, batting away her hand and flipping her over.

“Now it’s your turn to look pretty.” He pinned both of her hands above her head holding them together with one hand while the other dipped down to the apex of her thighs. At first he didn’t let her have anything she wanted, only running his fingers on her inner thighs and dancing his fingers right above her hole that was now absolutely dripping.

“Beg.” His voice was now harsh and biting, that did little to intimidate her and all it did was make her even wetter. She fought his grip with vigor not wanting to give into his demand.

“No, I won’t beg.” She said through gritted teeth, it had become much harder to finish her sentence when Spencer had unexpectedly curled his fingers inside of her, finding that perfect spot inside her faster than she had expected.

“You don’t want to beg fine, but don’t expect to cum.” The growl in frustration that came from her made Spencer pause just a little, long enough that she could retake control and flip him back over. A squeak fell from him clearly not expecting her to be able to take back control again and another noise came out from him, this time a broken moan, after she quickly put the condom down and she sunk down onto his length.

“I don’t beg for anyone.” She started at a rough pace, her anger came out in her movements as she undulated her hips with fury that Spencer had never experienced before in the bedroom. The moans falling from each of their lips would surely get her a complaint from her neighbors, neither of them could really care less as they both chased their release.

Spencer may have been on the bottom at this point, but he still had not submitted completely to her. His hands sat firmly on her hips, tight enough to create finger shaped bruises that she hoped would remain for the days after this tryst while he also thrusted with the same vigor as her bounces.

She wrapped her hands around his jaw pulling him up slightly to envelope him into a kiss full of teeth and tongue. As her hand slowly pulled away from him it made contact with the hollow of his throat, his breath hitched at the light contact and he gripped her hips a little harder. She hesitantly moved her hand to connect with his throat to lightly choke him, she may have wanted to dominate him, but she didn’t want to scare him off. He gave an approving grunt at her actions, starting to meet her thrusts even harder than he had before and moved his thumb to rub circles into her clit.

“Cum.” She ordered as soon as she sensed their coming releases. He wanted to fight her on the order, not wanting to give up what little dominance he still held, but his release was so close that he didn’t want to give it up. Their releases washed over them, Spencer first and then her not long after being shoved over the ledge after seeing how pretty he looked while cumming. She fell on top of him, limbs quite tired from her vigorous work.

As soon as she had caught her breath she enveloped Spencer in a long languid kiss that was much slower than any of their previous ones then getting up to meander with shaky legs her way to the bathroom in her hotel room to clean up. She slipped into a pair of her sexier pajamas, just in case Spencer was going to stay the night like she wanted.

“So will you tell me now if you were bluffing?” He quickly pounced the question onto me as soon as I emerged from the bathroom, he did seem a little less frustrated about the fact that he had lost, more like he genuinely wanted to know my process.

“Guess you’ll never know. It could take a long time to figure out our tells.” She feigned exhaustion with a sigh though the smirk on her face told Spencer what she really wanted. He was an expert on behavior after all.

“I've got time.”

[theweasleysredhair]

Flustered [G.W.]

Character: George Weasley

Word Count: 3077

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “You make my heart skip a beat.” In which Georgie is a chaotic, flustered mess in love with a Hufflepuff chaser.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: For the lovely Erica - I really hope you enjoy it angel! I may have been working on this all week and rewritten it like three times so I’m hoping I got George being all flustered yet cheeky right 😂

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“Wow, you really like her don’t you,” Fred commented as he watched his twin staring hopelessly at the h/c girl a few metres to his left.

“What?” George snapped out of his daydream just as he walked straight into a pillar, knocking him back on his feet and he groaned in pain as Fred and Lee laughed.

“Might wanna watch where you’re walking instead of staring at Y/n, mate,” Lee joked, watching as George rubbed gingerly at his nose. “Love really is blind, eh George?” Fred sniggered.

George groaned, half at his nose hurting and half at his friends’ teasing. It’s not his fault he was so distracted - how could he be expected to focus on where he was walking when you were a few metres away from him?

“Oh shut up, the pair of you. You’re acting like you’ve never fancied a girl before. I distinctly remember you falling on your face, Fred, when you first started liking Angelina,” George scowled, nudging his brother.

“That’s because you tripped me up!” Fred said indignantly. George feigned innocence, “I would never do such a thing.”

And then suddenly his focus had fallen back on you, his previous conversation fading into the background, barely paying attention to Lee’s laughter at his expense.

“She’s the best chaser in Hogwarts I reckon,” he said dreamily, watching as your head fell back as you laughed with your teammates.

To be fair, he wasn’t wrong. You’d made a name for yourself since you’d joined the team a couple years back, and were the best player on the Hufflepuff team. Luckily for George, he knew Harry was a better seeker than Cedric, but he knew you were a force to be reckoned with - you’d scored the most points since the year had started and by a longshot at that.

“You know, we have three perfectly good chasers on our own team you should be complimenting,” Lee pointed out as he opened the doors to exit the castle.

The sun was out, warming up what would have otherwise been a mild morning, dew still covering the grass as hoards of Hogwarts students were milling around, waiting for the match to begin.

The boys began heading towards the quidditch pitch, knowing Oliver Wood would already be there to prep the team on which strategies they’d be using today.

George sighed, “Yeah but... they don’t look like Y/n do they. Or act like her. Or sound like her.”

“I swear to Merlin, if you lose us this match because you can’t stop staring at the girl then I’ll personally kill you myself,” Lee threatened playfully.

“No worries about that, I’ve got a plan!” George announced proudly, straightening his back and pushing his chest out proudly.

“You made a plan? Without me?” Fred came to a sudden halt, making Lee bump into his back as the older twin dramatically clutched his chest as if he was heartbroken.

“Yep. Made it just this minute... I’m gonna flirt with her whilst we’re playing, to distract her,” the younger twin said determinedly.

There was a moment of silence before Fred and Lee burst out laughing laughing, continuing on their journey to the pitch. “You can’t flirt. You can barely speak to her,” Lee chortled, grabbing onto George’s shoulder for support.

“‘S not true. I had a conversation with her the other day!”

“She asked you if she could borrow a quill and you stared at her with heart eyes for a solid couple of minutes before I handed one to her instead. Wouldn’t call that a conversation, Georgie,” Fred said pointedly.

“I wasn’t referring to that - thanks for reminding me of that by the way,” George fake-glared at his twin, “I actually saw her in the library.”

“Oh yeah? What were you doing in the library?” Lee asked in disbelief, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I was studying,” George said simply.

At the sight of Fred and Lee raising their eyebrows, George sighed, “Okay fine, I was hiding from Filch. And I may have seen her walk in there before me. The point is, we had an amazing conversation and she called me cute.”

“Everyone stand back, Georgie’s been called cute and had some really hot, passionate eye contact!” Fred called out sarcastically.

George looked unimpressed, “Oh ha-ha, very funny.”

As they arrived at the stands, the twins bid goodbye to Lee who headed up to commentator’s box.

Around 15 minutes later, the twins were in their quidditch uniform and had just finished with the match briefing. They walked out, laughing and joking when Fred nudged George and nodded over to where you were stood in the middle of the pitch with your team, in your own quidditch uniform, holding onto your broom.

George picked up his pace, taking his place in front of you. He smirked at you, “Heard you’ve been practicing night and day for this, shame we’re going to beat you anyway.”

You looked up and were pleasantly surprised to see the younger twin standing across from you, in his starting position for the match. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t happy he’d chosen to come and see you instead of speaking to his team.

You scoffed and shot him a grin, “I’m gonna fly circles around you in this match.”

“Bring it on, love! Gryffindor are the best team going,” he bragged, puffing out his chest playfully and making you laugh (something he was extremely happy to have done - he’d never get sick of hearing the melodic sound).

“Oh yeah? We’ll see about that,” you said determinedly, climbing onto your broom.

The match began and George made it his mission to compliment you every time he flew past you, to distract you from scoring. Usually, nothing could stop you from getting the quaffle into the hoops but there was something about the ginger boy that had you flustered, heart racing every time he’d throw a smirk your way.

“Did I ever tell you how beautiful you look right now?” He’d said to you as he flew past you, distracting you just long enough for Alicia Spinnet to score a goal and making you grit your teeth in annoyance.

When you had stolen the quaffle from Katie Bell and were just about to score, he came up beside you saying, “Always knew you were an amazing chaser, babe.” And that was enough for you to miss the hoop by barely a fraction of a centimetre.

The last straw was when you’d just managed to throw the quaffle past Oliver Wood, after having to flip over on your broom to avoid Angelina Johnson flying past you in an attempt to steal it from you, earning another 10 points for Hufflepuff when the younger twin flew past you again, “Well that was hot as hell, love.”

And suddenly you forgot where you were for a moment, staring after him as he flew off, mouth open in a slack ‘o’.

Your team captain flew past you, yelling, “Flirt in your own time, L/n!”, making you realise that you were, in fact, in the middle of a quidditch match. And with that, you decided to give George a taste of his own medicine.

“‘M really glad you keep passing us the quaffle, love, making it so much easier for us to win,” George teased you. “Anything for the most handsome beater around,” you retaliated, batting your eyelashes at him. Sure, you could’ve come up with something better but for being in the middle of a game and thinking on the spot, you didn’t think it was too bad.

You were right as well, because as soon as you said it, George stopped mid-air, frozen in place. Because... did you just call him handsome?

His heart was pounding as he stared after you, your h/c hair flowing in the wind and making his breath catch in his throat.

And then suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a bludger coming straight for you. With a glance over at Fred, who was busy trying to ensure Angelina - who had the quaffle - could score, he realised that the other bludger was heading towards Katie Bell.

George raced into action, beginning to head over to help Katie, who moved to dodge said bludger, before suddenly swerving on his broom over towards you, smacking the iron ball away from you merely seconds before it hit you.

He turned to you, all previous playfulness gone and replaced with concern, “Are you okay?”

You barely had enough time to nod, still in shock from the near-hit, before George was called off again by Fred.

“Maybe focus on your own teammates, eh Weasley?” Oliver shouted angrily at George, who looked around and realised Katie Bell had been hit with the other bludger.

“Sorry Ollie mate, had to protect what’s mine,” he called back to his captain.

“And because of that my shoulder got hit!” Katie yelled out.

“Sorry, Bell,” George shrugged, before heading off to hit a bludger away from Alicia. Of course, he did feel bad that Katie got hurt - quite guilty, in fact - but... to him, it would’ve been worse if you’d have been hit - or worse again, had fallen. He didn’t think he could handle that.

“You’re lucky we won,” Fred said to George after Harry had caught the snitch, “Otherwise I reckon Oliver would try and drown you in the showers for saving Y/n instead of Katie.”

“Y/n is my priority to be honest,” George replied as they landed their brooms on the grass, “Plus, I knew Katie saw the bludger coming and had at least a chance to swerve. Y/n had no idea. I couldn’t let her get hurt, Freddie... I couldn’t.”

“Guess we’ll have to work on distractions in the next practice,” Oliver said pointedly on the way past the twins, although the didn’t seem too upset - probably considering Gryffindor had won - followed by Katie who was holding her shoulder.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” George said sheepishly. If he was honest though, it wasn’t really a hard decision for him to choose between saving you and saving Katie.

Katie didn’t make his heart race like you did.

The rest of the team headed after the cheering crowds, whooping and hollering at Harry.

Fred followed on, screaming excitedly into the crowd. George went to join when he felt someone tap his shoulder.

He turned around and was met with the sight of your nervous smile, rocking back on your heels as you looked up at him, “Hey... I um, I just wanted to thank you. You know, for hitting that bludger away from me. You didn’t have to do that and I never got the chance to thank you in the game.”

“Don’t you worry love, it was nothing. Gotta protect your pretty face, don’t I?” He said cheekily, making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Well, it wasn’t nothing, it saved me a great deal of pain and possibly a nasty fall so... I guess I owe you,” You grinned, before leaning up to press a soft kiss to his cheek. You thanked him again and then shyly waved him goodbye to join your teammates.

George felt like a schoolgirl with a crush, his mind racing and heart beating fast as he reached up to the place where you’d kissed him. You’d kissed him.

“You look happy with yourself,” Fred commented with a grin from a few metres away, having walked back after realising his twin wasn’t following.

“She kissed me,” George announced in amazement and pure awe. “Yeah, on the cheek,” Fred grinned, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That still counts!”

“No Georgie it really doesn’t, but I’m glad you think so,” the older twin replied in an amused tone.

-

“D’ya reckon she fancies me?” George asked suddenly as the twins headed down to the Great Hall for lunch. For a moment, Fred was confused, looking around for some kind of context, but then realised his twin was talking about you.

“Well I mean you are the less attractive twin and all but you do have some good qualities I suppose,” Fred replied, looking like he was in thought.

“Oh yeah, like what?” George asked seriously, hoping for some actual advice.

“Well for starters you have an amazing twin brother.”

George stopped, staring at Fred’s grin and sighing before elbowing him - slightly harder than he intended to so Fred nearly fell into the wall.

“Now now Georgie, I’m simply trying to tell you that I am offering you my services at helping you win her over,” Fred said with a laugh, nudging his twin right back.

“At this point I’m open to anything.”

“Well, this may seem a bit out there, over the top, dramatic - but how about... you just tell her directly how you feel. You have no problem being all sappy about her to me. I’m sick of it really,” Fred sighed with a shake of his head.

“I can’t do that.”

“You’re George Weasley of course you can mate.”

“D’ya reckon?” George glanced over to the group of students heading down the same corridor, most likely to head to get some lunch too.

“Yeah I do. Or, even better, just walk over and snog her the next time you see her.”

As much as George liked that idea - and was imagining it right that moment - he decided against it.

“What if there’s someone else?” Fred decided mess with George. The younger twin’s head whipped round to look at Fred, “What do you mean?”

“Oh wow your face, you’re really gone on her... poor Y/n,” Fred laughed, clapping a hand on George’s shoulder, “All I’m saying is, my dear sweet twin, what if there’s someone else?”

George swallowed. He hadn’t thought of that. What if there was someone else? He hadn’t seen you with anyone and knew Fred was winding him up but what if?

“Then I’ll just beat away the other competition,” George said with a cheeky grin, hiding his worry but his mind was reeling at the possibility.

Fred groaned at the pun, shaking his head. He opened his mouth to reply to his twin when they heard soft laugher from behind them, “Oh don’t you worry, no one could ever beat you, George.”

The twins turned around in shock, George’s heart pounding as his eyes rested on your figure.

“Oh dear Godric, marry her,” Fred groaned as he walked away towards the Great Hall, mumbling something about bad puns.

George felt his cheeks redden, reaching up with one hand to scratch the back of his neck, “You um.. you heard that?” You bit your lip before grinning, “I did.”

“Is it too late to pretend I’m Fred?” George asked with a nervous smile. He could feel the tips of his ears burning and he had no doubt they were most likely blending in with his hair at that point.

You laughed, “Well you could but I’m quite fond of you as yourself if I’m honest.”

“You are?” George’s mind raced, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. He then mentally cursed himself for acting so stutter-y and nervous as he ran a hand through his messy hair, “I mean, that’s good because I’m quite fond of you too.”

“Of course. There’s not many guys who would go out of their way to protect me from bludgers... especially when they’re not on my team or as handsome as you are,” you said with a small shrug. You giggled a little noticing a strand of hair sticking up from George messing with it, so you reached up and flattened it out, making him swallow from how close your lips were to his.

He could easily close the couple of inches between you if he wanted. Well, he did want to - badly - but just as he built the courage, you’d stepped back a little further away.

“Some things are more important than who’s on what team... don’t you worry love, I’d protect you from bludgers all day long if you asked me to,” he replied with a cheeky smile.

“Is that an offer you make to all the girls?” You asked with a laugh. “Nah, just the ones I fancy,” George admitted.

“You’re sweet, you know that?”

“Now that you mention it...,” he pretended to think, before shooting you a grin, “Yeah I know.”

You laughed and his gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips and back again as his tongue darted out to swipe across his own bottom lip. You were still stood close, he could - what was it Fred said? He could walk over and snog you.

Your laughter had dropped to a comfortable silence before George broke it, stepping forward so the distance between you became nearly non-existent, “You know, I was thinking, maybe we can- or I could- can I-”

“Kiss me, Georgie” you interrupted his rambling.

“Oh bloody hell- yeah absolutely,” he breathed as he grabbed your hips, pulling you to him and crashing his lips to yours. Your hands made their way around his neck as he slowly turned you to press you against the nearest wall, one of his hands on your waist as the other cupped your jaw to better angle himself.

He sighed happily as you tugged at strands of his hair, the hand that was on your waist moving slightly so it gripped the back of your hip, pulling you closer to him.

You pulled away a little to take a breath and before you knew it he was kissing you again, showing you how long he’d waited for this moment.

“Hey Y/n?” He said in a low tone as you pulled away, pressing another kiss to your swollen lips before resting his forehead against yours. “Yes Georgie?”

“You make my heart skip a beat,” he said with a proud grin.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, “It took you all that time to come up with that?”

“In my defence, I had you - looking like you do - in front of me, being all distracting. And then you let me kiss you. You try coming up with something better,” George scoffed playfully, giving your waist a gentle squeeze.

“Oh I could easily beat you at this game,” you replied immediately, grinning up at him. His mouth dropped open a little and his eyes lit up, staring at you as if you’d hung the moon and stars in the sky,

“Merlin, Fred was right: Marry me?”

[theoreticslut]

The Truth that you Deny // Part 1

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley

word count: 2,644

warnings: none, fluff

A/N: apologies that this is a day late! I wasn’t feeling great yesterday, but i’m posting it now so I hope you all like it! also, i don’t have a lot of followers yet, but if you like my wrting and/or just this imagine maybe I could start a taglist?? let me know what you think!

“I don’t know what to do anymore, steph. I don’t understand this at all.” You pout, sighing as you lean back in your chair.

You’d been studying for hours now, which is the last thing you wanted to do on a Saturday, and the only thing you’ve managed to do is waste time and get maybe one or two questions/paragraphs done on a number of assignments. You had yet to actually complete anything.

Stephanie looks at you frowning, more than just a little bit annoyed with you.

“Maybe it’d help if you didn’t drift off thinking about your little crush every five minutes.”

“Who?” You ask, having not been paying attention.

“You’re seriously going to play dumb right now? We both know who you’re constantly thinking about.”

“I honestly don’t.”

“Oh come on, y/n. You so totally have a crush on the twins!”

“I do not. Why would you even think that?” You scoff. You, Stephanie, Katie, Lee, and the twins have been friends since first year and you had never once mentioned having a crush on either of them. Sure you might’ve been quiet and distracted around them sometimes, but you get stressed about school so easily. You spend most of the time worrying about grades and whether you know the material. In fact, while the twins were amazing friends, their pranks often drove you insane.

“Why would I think that? Y/n, have you seen the way you look at them? Do you even realize what you say to them?”

“What do you mean? I don’t say anything different to them than I do you.”

“Uh, yeah. You do. You are way nicer to them then you are me or katie or Lee. Remember when gryffindor won the last quidditch game and you couldn’t tell Fred and George enough how well they did?”

“Well they did. I was just saying the truth. It was a really good game.” You defend, not liking how steph seems to be grilling you for a yes.

“Okay, well then how about when either of them show up you’re suddenly ten times happier then you were beforehand?” She looks at you smugly like she knows she’s correct.

“Afternoon, ladies.” Fred greets as both him and George suddenly appear and sit down at the table you and Steph were studying at.

“Hey guys,” you smile catching the knowing look Steph throws your way. You roll your eyes at her and turn your attention to the twins. She can believe whatever she pleases, but it still doesn’t make it true.

“Are you girls studying?” George asks, a hint of disgust in his tone.

“Trying to. I’m not having much luck.” You sigh, throwing a playful glare at your best friend which doesn’t go unnoticed by any of them.

“Well then how about you put it away and come play a game of quidditch with us?” Fred asks, hope glowing on his face.

You sigh as frown takes hold of your face. If only you had gotten all this done already, or even better, didn’t have it to begin with.

“I’d love too, but I really need to get all of this done. I can’t put it off any longer.”

Both twins join as you pout. You know that they know that you’d absolutely love to play. While you hadn’t made the team (because you never tried out), you loved playing and were even really good at it.

You had surprised the twins over summer break two years ago when you visited the burrow for a week. Obviously since all the Weasley’s love playing quidditch and it’s almost a daily occurrence, it was bound to happen that they’d play a game while you were there. However, they really needed another player so you joined in and gave them all a run for their money (if only you had placed bets beforehand). Since then, the twins love asking you to play because you’re actually a bit of competition to them.

“Not even one game?” George asks, leaning towards you ever so slightly to try to catch your eye.

“Guys, I...no.” You sigh, frustrated that the professors gave you this much homework to begin with.

“Honestly, I’d love to play. You both know that, but I really need to get this done. Maybe tomorrow?” You ask.

“How about you put this up for awhile, come and play a game of quidditch with us, and then you finish this tomorrow?” Fred asks, looking to persuade you.

“You’re too persuasive for your own good, Weasley. As much as I’d love to play, I really ought to get this done or else I’m just going to be worrying about it tomorrow.”

“What if we study with you?” George asks, catching all of your attention.

“You two studying? That’s a really good one, George.” Stephanie replies, saying exactly what you were thinking.

“I’m serious,” he chuckles. “Believe it or not.”

“If we were to study with you later tonight and tomorrow, would you come and play a game with us?” He asks, giving his best impression of a sad puppy dog.

“George, I can’t. I’m already so behind and I want to make sure that I don’t fail. We do have the O.W.L.s this year you kn-“

“Pleeeeeease.” Both the twins beg, cutting you off.

“No, I-“

“Pleeeeeease.”

“It’s just one game, I promise.” George pouts.

You look over at Steph who’s only smirking and shaking her head at you, knowing you can’t say no. You hate that you can tell what’s she’s thinking with just that expression; ‘this is your problem, sweetie. Your the one that likes them.’

You roll your eyes at her again, mentally thanking her for all the help and give in.

“Fine! Fine. I’ll play one game.” you agree.

“Yes!” The twins shout simultaneously, high-fiving across the table.

“But you both better keep your word and study with me or else I won’t play with you again.” you threaten, even though it sounds empty even to you.

“Of course we will, gorgeous. We wouldn’t want our little lion cub upset.” Fred smirked, winking at you and George as you groan at their nickname for you.

Another lovely thing that’s come out of your few visits to the burrow. After another one of your empty threats, George laughed and made the point that even though you try to come off strong and threatening, you often fall short and sound like a child who just doesn’t quite have the bite to back up the bark. And since you’re all in gryffindor together, they made the connection to a lion cub.

Since then, it’s been expanded upon given different circumstances. Like when you were standing up for Ron one time, it changed to mumma lion. Then another time when you were confronting a girl that had been spreading rumors about one of your other friends, the twins joked about how you had become a lioness. So while it’s not your favourite nickname, it isn’t the worst one that you could’ve gotten and it’s only ever used by Fred, George and occasionally their family.

“You better watch it, Freddie.” You warned as you started packing up your books.

~.~

“And that’s another point for Y/n’s team!”

“Bloody hell, y/n. Give us a chance would you.” Fred nearly begs, rubbing his side where you may have just hit a bludger into him.

“You guys begged me to play and you both know that I don’t play nice.” You retort, not feeling any remorse.

You’d deny it if someone pointed it out, but the truth is you are extremely competitive, no matter the situation as long as it interests you. Quidditch? Bloody hell, you’d think your life depended on you winning. Proving to Lee that you could out drink him? You better have a full bottle of replenishing potion because you are going to have one of the worst hangovers of your life. Basically, if you were presented any sort of challenge, you tackled it head-on.

“He’s just upset that he’s losing. You know how he is.” George says, winking at you as his brother grumbles to himself.

“Want to play once more and whoever gets the point wins? I’m getting awfully tired.”

“Sounds good to me.” George nods.

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Fred grumbled as he and George fly back to their positions.

~.~

“Oh bloody hell” you grumble as you wake up and stretch. You don’t often play quidditch, therefore you’re a little out of shape and currently very sore.

That doesn’t even take into account that you stayed up much later than you should have last night trying to get something done.

You groan as you roll over to look at the clock to find it to be 8 AM. You’d certainly love to sleep in a bit more, but if you didn’t get a move on you’d miss breakfast and that’s the last thing you need to do if you were going to be studying with Fred and George today. You loved them, but boy could they get in your nerves sometimes. You didn’t need to be hungry on top of it.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you change into a pair of leggings and an oversized black sweater that tends to hang off one shoulder. You pull on your favourite pair of black heeled boots and move onto brushing your hair and apply the minimal makeup you’re comfortable wearing.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. You look like your ready to spend the day studying with Fred and George.” Steph teased as you sit down next to her.

“Let me eat first, and hopefully get a cup of coffee. Then you can taunt me all you want.” You say, rubbing at your eyes as you’re not quite awake yet.

“Take my fun away.” She pouts, picking up a bite of pancake with her fork.

“But seriously, how are you feeling about today? You get to spend ALL the quality time with your boys as you like.”

She smiles, staring at you to see your reaction.

“I don’t like them like you’re implying, Stephanie. How many times do I have to tell you?” You huff, taking a sip of your much needed cup of coffee.

“Yeah-huh. You keep telling yourself that. Eventually you’ll believe it.”

“Maybe eventually you’ll get the hint.” You grumble, moodily stabbing a piece of pancake yourself.

“Someone seems to be in a mood this morning.” Fred states as he and George sit down across from you two.

You send a glare over at him as you continue eating your breakfast.

“Definitely. What have we missed already this morning?” George asks, looking from you to Stephanie as he gets himself a cup of coffee.

“Someone is denying that she has feelings for a couple certain people when it’s glaringly obvious.” Stephanie states.

“Ooh, who does our little lion cub have a crush on? Anyone we know?” Fred asks, not missing the opportunity to try and tease you.

“Steph just needs to learn how to take no as an answer. I’ve already told her that I do not, in fact, have feelings for them, but she can’t seem to accept that.”

“Again, who are they?” Fred asks.

“Don’t worry about it because I don’t like them. And even if I did I’m positive neither of them would see me in the same way so it really doesn’t matter whatever way you try to look at it.” You rant, stabbing your fork into some scrambled eggs.

You notice Fred and George share a look that can only be translated to ‘well she isn’t having a good morning. Yikes.’ You huff as you continue eating in silence, feeling all three of them look at you.

~.~

“Y/n, what does this even mean?” Fred asks exasperatedly.

“What does what mean, Freddie?” You sigh, looking up from your own parchment where you are attempting to write a paper for Potions.

“I don’t know. I can’t make sense of any of it anymore.” He pouts.

“Well then I don’t know how to help you.” You say, watching as he pouts in frustration.

“What about you, Georgie? How is everything going?” You ask, looking over to find George staring down at his parchment.

“Uh, decent?” He asks, seeming awfully confused.

“You two are some of the worst study partners around. How have you made it this far, honestly?” You chuckle, leaning back in your chair.

“Our charm and wit.” George jokingly says, winking at you which only causes you to laugh a bit more.

“Why don’t we take a break for awhile? We’ve been working at this for nearly two hours now.” Fred sighs.

You look over at him and give him a small smile. You honestly can’t believe that both of them came along with you and haven’t done much complaining until now. Neither of these boys liked their homework much, in fact it was rare to find them ever working on it.

“You two can if you’d like. I’m nearly done with this paper and if I stop now I’ll forget what I was doing.”

“Then finish the paper and then we’ll all take a break.” He smiles.

I shake my head as I smile back at him and continue working on my potions paper. I just need another paragraph or two to finish it off and then I’m early done with all of my work.

“There, done.” I say as I set my quill down. I lean back to find both of the twins staring at me.

“What?”

“Who were you and Stephanie talking about over breakfast?” Fred asks, a smile on his lips yet he sounds fairly serious, not trying to joke around at all.

“Back to this again?” You sigh, tossing your head back in annoyance. “It doesn’t matter, Freddie. Let it go.”

“C’mon y/n, we’re just curious. Maybe we could help you find out if they like you back.” George offers.

“Yeah, you’re one of our best friends, y/n and you deserve to be with someone that makes you happy.” Freddie says, looking directly at you.

“Besides, you haven’t ever been with anyone at all have you? Like not even just dating?” He adds on.

“No, and I don’t really care to. I’ve got too many other things on my mind.” You say, still ignoring the main question at hand here.

“You have no interest at all? Really?” Fred asks knowing otherwise. You know both of them have heard you talk about guys before with the other girls and you all know that you’ve said not once, but multiple times, that you can’t wait to have a boyfriend to cuddle with and to just love.

“Can’t we just drop it? I really don’t want to talk about it. Steph’s made it into a bigger deal than it needs to be.”

You look at George for some sort of support. You know he and his brother are very much alike, but he’s always been a bit

more considerate when it comes to things people don’t feel like sharing.

“If it’s not a big deal, then why don’t you just tell us? No big deal, no harm in telling right?” George asks, doing the complete opposite of what you were hoping.

“I don’t want to talk about it because if I do I’m afraid...well, I’m afraid it’ll make everything more complicated that what I want to deal with.” You truthfully state.

Both twins watch you as you go silent again, not meeting either of their gazes. If they had known it was this difficult for you to acknowledge, then they wouldn’t have pushed it so much, but here you all were; past that line that pushes your relationship with each other into uncharted territory. You guys don’t share your emotions with each other like this, so now that you have, where do you all go from here?

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You

Genre: Romance , Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 4,1K

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Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?) 

*Not all chapters have these but I’m letting this like general because as a series I think it’s better if I warn all of them at once instead of warning out of nowhere since I’ve already written some chapters*

Notes: The “Angst/Hurt/Confort” is related to the plot and how the characters will build their relationship, therefore it’ll be mentioned more than once through the chapters. Although I don’t think I made it really distressing nor anything like that, please be aware of the Warnings if you don’t feel comfortable with the themes <3

This is an EXTREMELY slow burn, if you don’t like those, I don’t think you’ll enjoy the fanfic  :’(

Updates: I’ll update it once a week because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                    ////

   Hate: a) To feel extreme enmity towards something or someone: Regard with active hostility; b) To have a strong aversion: Find very distasteful.

   Regarding all emotions someone could ever feel, you didn’t think something could be more powerful than hatred.

    What in the world could be more powerful than disliking someone to the point you couldn’t even stand their presence? It meant you would prefer to leave rather than stay. Nothing could ever beat that. Nothing. People could do insane things moved by it. Things no one should ever think about doing nor do at all for that matter. Things that could hurt and destroy everything around someone’s life.

   Even though common sense stated love was blind, you thought that maybe hate was blinder… Maybe hate was the one who blinded love. Who knew? You were sure hatred moved people to do the undoable. So what could be a better answer to your professor’s question? What was the most powerful feeling in the world?

   “Fear” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him. You didn’t know if it was the black hair, the dark eyes, or that pretty face everyone felt the urge to ogle but somehow Hyunjin had that funny effect on people around him. It was like people needed to hear him, like he held some kind of mesmerizing voice that made people believe he was a wise man on a young body.

   He wasn’t.

   “How is fear greater than hate?” You scoffed, wondering why people looked at him like he knew what he was talking about “I never saw someone actively doing something because of fear but people actually make decisions based on hatred” You pointed out, smirking at him. Hyunjin couldn’t possibly retort you because you were right, and sooner or later he would have to admit it.

   “I believe you didn’t quite understand the professor’s question, my dear” He had this ridiculous accent like he was British when he clearly wasn’t, and you couldn’t help but grimace at him before he continued “He asked what is the most powerful emotion not what emotion prompt people to do something… I must say that if an emotion paralyzes you to the point you can’t make a decision ─ as you pointed out yourself─ it must be quite powerful, don’t you agree?” He had that smug look on his face, suggesting he thought he had won your argument, and you would gladly wipe that smug grin out of there if Paris didn’t interrupt you.

   “Excuse me but I think it’s love” Her voice sounded polite even though you knew she thought Hyunjin was being dumb “If fear is something that paralyzes someone and that is your argument for power, I think love can beat fear, so it’s obviously more powerful” She stated, not bothering to defend her arguments.

  Typical Paris.

   “In what world love beats fear?” He jeered, looking at her as if she was growing a third head “I’m sorry to disappoint you, darling, but life isn’t a fairy-tale” He pouted mockingly.

  What a despicable guy.

  “It’s well known that love can make someone so eager to protect another thing that you could simply ignore your fears and get stronger. Mothers can lift a car to free their child, soldiers can fight harder if they have someone to go back to! And if you consider the paralyzing feeling, knowing love can beat this would mean it’s stronger than fear… When you love you can do or give up on doing things just to be able to protect something you love” She stated proudly before you looked at your professor expecting his verdict.

   Like on cue, the bell rang, announcing your class was over.

   And so did he, waving dismissively to all of you to go.

   Great, so it was a kind of philosophical game for him.

   Your pointless argument ended up with nothing but a bunch of opinions you couldn’t say was right; and when it came to insisting on being right there was just one person in this world you could say you almost hated… Hyunjin. He came to you with his signature─ a smug grin that made you want to punch his face every day─, getting in your way to pack your things as he picked up one of your pencils, spinning it between his fingers. You didn’t even make the effort to ask it back, settling for extending your palm up, so he would give it back to you.

   “Paris may have a point but I beat you” Should you punch his face for real someday? Probably not. You should keep good grades and a perfect image so you could keep your scholarship. What a pity. You shook your hand once, a silent ask for your pencil again, and this time he put it on your palm, leaning closer as he braced himself on the desk, trying to be seductive or something “What? Are you so upset you lost to me you don’t even want to talk anymore?” He said in a mocking tone that made you glare at him.

   “Even when I’m right I don’t want to talk to you” You reminded him, throwing your bag’s strap on your shoulder “Let’s go, Paris, Chan said He was going to have lunch with us today” You took her hand and guided her to the door, walking fast so you could leave Hyunjin behind but he, unfortunately, was right on your tail.

   “It’s funny because I recall you bragging every time you’re right and I’m not hearing it now” He said, easily picking up your pass, since his legs were way longer than yours “I guess you don’t want to talk to me because you lost again” Oh god, how could he be so insufferable?! You trailed your eyes around the stairs, looking for Chan on the crowd.

   Thankfully, there he was.

   Chan was a fine guy, as anyone with two functioning eyes could see or at least guess since a lot of girls were staring at him. He was waiting in the corner, his arms crossed on his chest and his bored eyes looking at the floor while he waited for you, his dark hair falling on his eyes, obliging him to run his fingers into his locks, looking charming in the eyes of the girls ogling him. You chuckled as you saw him eyeing them disgusted, clearly bothered by people looking at him doing nothing like he was some kind of idol or something.

   “Hey, Sweety!” You shouted, making him roll his eyes at the nickname that symbolized your friendship. It was the first name you ever called him, a sarcastic remark for the typical rich guy he was, a pretty and spoiled bastard.

   The circumstances you met weren’t the best ones but somehow they worked in your favor.    

   You were working hard on pilling some boxes ─ all of them with a “fragile” sticker that made you very aware about the possibility of losing your job if you dropped one of them─, so it was only natural you were pissed as hell when someone dropped all of them at once. As if he didn’t have anything better to do, Chan stood with his right hand raised to blame, a smirk plastered on his face as he said “Ops! Sorry, Sweety” making his dumb friends laugh at you.

    You couldn’t say you were a typical rich girl especially because you were, in fact, quite poor, so your antics were totally justified by the need you had to keep your job on your hands and change your paradigm.

   It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone with a brain but he had to pay for the losses.

      So you shot him a tight smile when you saw him walking to the exit and said “Don’t forget to pay for those, Sweety”, making him shot a brow at you. You remembered clearly the way he got close to you, declaring with that cocky attitude you hated “Do you know who I am?” as if it would make any difference. You shoved him on the wall, losing your composure, and hissing at him that you didn’t care, and he should pay for it unless he was some kind of hallucination of your head.

   He came back every day after that.

   It has been four years since you two became friends against all the odds; and as a rich kid himself, Chan often paid for your meals, claiming your sorry ass should be thanking him instead of scoffing. You couldn’t help but nudge him with your elbow as soon as you got next to him, making him nudge you back as Paris clasped her hands together, her eyes beaming at your interaction.

   “It’s so beautiful how you guys love each other!” Paris couldn’t see you interacting with another human being without believing you were in love, and although it kinda annoyed you, you tried to overlook it since she didn’t have much more to hold a grudge against. She had been your roommate for the past three years at the dorms, and even though she was a hopeless romantic and annoyed the hell out of you to get together with someone, that was pretty much her only great flaw.

   You remembered perfectly how you thought your life was over once you met her.

   Your first impression of the dorm was awful as you got there and saw the overly pink and cute stuff hanging all around the place as she tried to organize everything in her room. She didn’t have much stuff but all her stuff was vibrant and girly to the point it hurt your eyes.

   You didn’t complain.                                                    

    You put your bag on the floor, looking at her with a grimace as she beamed to meet her new friend. You could say you hated to live with her in the beginning, her carefree self was annoying and her overly friendly antics pissed you off as she always asked you to do things together, watch movies, and eat, and talk and... Well, anything you didn’t want to do with someone you just met. On top of all, she was somewhat lazy and didn’t do much, which ended up with you doing all the chores.

   If you were to be fair, you were the one wearing out yourself, really.

   Everything changed on a particularly exhausting day.

   You had to be a damn good juggler on that week, working yourself until you couldn’t even think about anything clearly. You were like a zombie. A workaholic zombie. You had to go to classes, get your work done, do your assignments, clean up the dorm, study your ass off for the exams, pretend to be a normal human being by socializing with people… Well, basically you were pretty busy on being perfect as you expected you to be. It was obvious that after all your exams were finally done and you got out of work you needed to relax as soon as you got home.

    You fixed yourself something to eat, turned on the TV, crashed on the couch to watch something, and just blacked out right there.

   When you woke up on the next day’s afternoon, you got a cozy feeling above you, some fluffy blanket was thrown around your body, making you warm and peaceful. You shot your body up, sitting on the couch and looking around, alarmed, just to see the TV turned off, the dishes cleaned, the dorm tidy, and your bubbly roommate folding the clothes. You got up from the couch quickly and made a bow, apologizing profusely for being a mess and letting everything out of place on the night before. She scoffed, shrugging it off by waving her hand and said something around “I know you like to do the chores but you wore out yourself this week, you should take a break! You’re not being a burden! Isn’t helping each other out what friends do?” and it made you gasp before smiling.

    You didn’t think of her as a friend back then but it did change that day.

    “It would be even more beautiful if you didn’t try to make us swallow up your need to a nonexistent love between us every time I take you guys out” Chan pointed out, grimacing at her. You couldn’t say Chan and Paris got along even though you tried to make them friendly towards each other but you couldn’t blame Chan for being an ass since you weren’t any better to his friend.

   “So you’re taking us out to lunch? Wonderful!” Hyunjin beamed in sarcasm, knowing too well you would complain. You rolled your eyes and looked at Chan as you guys started to walk, getting on your way to his car so he could take you wherever he was planning to go.

  “It’s called a friendly gathering for a reason, Hyunjin… It means only friends can come” You feigned sympathy, pressing your lips together and looking at him with apologetic eyes. He scoffed at you and nudged Chan on the shoulder, resting his hand there as you walked.

   “I’m his friend too! He’s paying so I can go as a friend unless you want to pay for everyone, then I will have to retreat” He argued, an almost unnoticeable smirk on his lips. You pouted, turning to Chan to complain but he seemed to not pay attention to your childish argument, ignoring you as he looked straight ahead, unbothered.

   “He’s right” He stated before you could whine, showing that he was indeed hearing your conversation. Chan had this habit of pretending not to pay attention to you just to state something that showed he was tuned with everything even though he looked bored, and it always seemed to amaze you. He was a sneak little prick. You whined at him, complaining randomly so he would give up on his idea but he wasn’t buying it, pretty much ignoring you.

  “You’re rich! You don’t even need him to pay for you” You decided to complain to Hyunjin, who just shot you an amused look, scoffing.

   “You work! You don’t need it either” He pointed out, making you sigh. You looked at Paris for support but she was watching the world absent-mindedly, humming something she probably had come up with on the walk, testing over and over again some tune she seemed to like and picking up her phone quickly, recording it and sending it to you so she could save it. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and sighed.

  What great friends you had.

  “Oh! Are you going to come to Han’s game?” She asked suddenly, looking at you excited “He even said if he couldn’t score a point for us this time he would treat us afterward!” You laughed at her enthusiasm, shaking your head in disbelief.

  “Was he laughing when you took the deal?” You asked and she seemed to think hard about it, her fingers gripping her chin as she frowned, trying to recall her conversation with your mutual friend. As soon as she remembered it, she smiled and nodded, making you snort “That’s because he’s a Líbero, Paris, they can’t score any points… He was hitting on you” You explained, her eyes shining in realization.

   “He pranked me!” She uttered, laughing.

   “If you actually paid attention to his explanations you would have guessed it” You pointed out, making Chan snort “Are you coming?” You asked him but Chan shot you a pointed look.

   “Do I look like the kind of guy who would go to a volleyball match?” He asked mockingly, making you shrug.

  “You don’t look like the kind of guy who spends your time with dumbasses but here we are going to eat with one” You retorted, glancing over your shoulders so Hyunjin knew you were talking about him. You finally made it to the car. Chan clicked his key’s button, unlocking his car from afar before you got there, opening the door, and getting inside with a cool motion that made you laugh. He was so playboyish!

   “I wasn’t even doing anything right now” Hyunjin complained as he got himself on the front seat in the same way Chan did, trying to look cool. You snorted at him, getting in the car and sliding to the side so Paris could get in beside you “Is it just to get my attention?” He teased, looking over his shoulder, getting startled at your face so close to his, your arms were resting on Chan’s sit, your chin resting on your arm as you looked ahead, watching as your friend backed up.

   You didn’t hate Hyunjin or something like this, you both just teased each other every time you could. You weren’t really fond of his antics since he was just a playboy that didn’t care about anything apart from him ─ and you weren’t really the kind to feel comfortable around dickheads─, so your friendship just wasn’t meant to happen. You could tolerate him well enough when he wasn’t pissing you off at classes though. You could say you both were academic rivals, extremely smart students that liked to overcome the other by doing witty remarks and good work…

    It wasn’t about being the best student, you didn’t believe in such a thing, it was about being better than him, and he wanted to be better than you.

    You could remember clearly the first time you met.

    He was a cocky guy back then too.

    He sat right next to you even though there were tons of available seats, his smirk suggesting he wasn’t really the friendly type, so he could only be there flirting. You rolled your eyes. He tried to chat with you, talking about him and how he was taking that psychology elective because the other ones seemed too easy for him. You nodded, not really listening to his monologue, and opened your notebook as soon as the Professor came in, presenting himself and giving you a deep question that made you contemplate in silence before you answered it proudly. He scoffed. He scoffed right on your face as he retorted you, and you retorted him back, and then he retorted you again… Your endless arguing conquered a proud clap from your Professor.

    You, on the other hand, conquered a rival.

   Later that week Chan invited you to see his new place, an apartment he rented with a friend even though both of them could easily live by themselves… You could never understand them. You arrived ranting about your classes, bringing the “smartass” issue as soon as you remember, and complaining about that guy that would seat beside you twice a week.

    You regret till this very day the way you said he was a hot and annoying guy because at this very moment he showed up on his sweatpants, using a towel to dry his hair as some drops fell onto his shirtless chest. He smirked at you, teasing you by saying “Hot, hm? So you were just playing hard to get. I like it” as he leaned on the wall, hanging the towel on his shoulder and making fun of you about it till this very day.

   “Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Paris was waving her hand right in front of your eyes, trying to get your attention. You shot your eyes to her, startled, smiling apologetically “We’re here” She announced, making you realize Chan was parking, a huge and presumably expensive restaurant standing there in all its glory.

   You would need to work at least to your death to be able to pay for breathing the air inside it.

  “Holy shit, are you rich?” You asked in disbelief, shock getting the better of you as you completely forgot who you were talking about. Chan grimaced at you like you were his dumb but lovingly friend, and you shot him a glare as soon as you composed yourself.

   Let Chan spend his money mindlessly and he would bankrupt his family.

                                                              ////

   You weren’t exactly the sport type but being on the grandstand together with a bunch of people you never talked to, all of you gathering by the same will to defeat the enemy… It just made its way to your mind somehow. You cheered loudly, booing at the opponents' team and their fans while clapping hard at your own team, shouting your lungs out every time Han made a good play, which was pretty often if you were fair.

   If anyone asked you when you made it to college if you would be going to games and cheering for your team, you would laugh on their faces… In fact, that was exactly what you did the first time Han asked you if you were going to his game, amused by his innocence. You two met because Paris was majoring in Music and He decided to take some music classes, which got him an invitation to a party Paris decided to throw on a Friday night.

   It was kind of cute how he was so flustered there, taking your offer for a glass of whatever Paris had mixed to serve as a drink with trembling hands. He was one of the first guys you had the pleasure to analyze as an aspiring psychologist, the clear signals of an awkward guy around the girl he had a crush all over his face: Pink cheeks, stuttering, exaggerated gesticulation, high pitched voice, inability to stay still as he swift his weight side to side, nervous eyes looking around the room…

    The poor boy was on edge, his eyes resting on Paris from time to time as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know the right words.

    Although he was a player in the court, he was far from that on real life and you found it cute.

   You remembered how he winced startled as you patted his shoulder, he looked like a little squirrel stocking his cheeks with alcohol just so he could gulp it down and choke, confused at your knowing look. He ended up being Paris’ partner for most of their projects, obviously trying to get some alone time with her, even though she always called you to listen to their compositions, blowing his plans. All that hanging out and his friendly behavior began a loose friendship, where you went to watch his games with Paris and you two went to watch Paris’s performances, your little alliance being settled so you wouldn’t feel excluded.

   That was how thoughtful he was.

   Paris screamed, hyped by your team score, and you followed her, standing up and cupping your mouth to scream his name, his eyes searching for both of you in the crowd, a bright smile when his eyes connected to yours. You waved at his way, getting a wave as an answer before he had to focus again on his match.

   As soon as the game ended, you both waited as the sea of people made their way out of the grandstand, mostly hyped for some afterward party that certainly would be happening somewhere. You and Paris made your way to the court, waiting for Han to come back from the locker room while chatting about the game. It took him some time to take his bath and get ready, and he came out of the locker room along with some friends that patted his back and complimented his plays, waving him goodbye as soon as they saw us waiting, knowing you wouldn’t go to the party.

   “Y/N told me you can’t score a point as a Libero” Was the first thing Paris said, chuckling, making Han cackle up.

   “You should know it by now! You came to literally every game I played for… Two years? It’s insane! What did you think? That I was a terrible player?” Paris grinned sheepishly and this time you cackled up.

   “It seems like your partner doesn’t believe in your abilities” You pointed out, making him snort “Anyway, I heard you would be paying if you didn’t score anything, so it’s on you today, loser” Han grinned, throwing his arms around your shoulders, pulling both of you closer as he guided you.

   “I can offer you the best hot dog in town” He agreed “Maybe even a soda if we all share it” Paris laughed, holding his wrist as she walked along with him, you took the hint to take his arm off your shoulders and let them have their moment, missing the way he pouted when you broke away the contact.

   “I can pay for our drinks” You offered, making Han gasp in mock chock.

   “Rich, aren’t we?” He joked, getting a light push on the shoulder as an answer.

   “I work for a reason, moron” You rolled your eyes “Now let’s split that bill” You smiled as the three of you made your way to your favorite hot-dog stand on campus.