#I get they don’t work weekends but twice now I’ve had a package delayed on a Friday (once because they lost for like half the day lol)

[victory-cookies]

my pakige…

[aheartstillbeating]

Something I've been working on. This may be chapter 1. Let me know what you think. I can take critiques. Beginner writer but it's what I love to do... it doesnt have a title yet. PM if you want. God bless.

I can still see her standing there near the shore, a giant beach towel wrapped around her. Her hair was blowing in the wind as she anchored her toes in the sand to help her stand steady. It was the end of summer and just as the cold weather was about to come through, so was she about to blow out of this town and head back to wherever she called home. She would be gone forever and things would go back to the way they were before... Before she came in like a hurricane. It may be cliche to say, but she truly came in and wrecked my whole world. Here I was, a small-town boy in southern Georgia planning to spend my summer on the beach. A little work here and there with my dad at his landscaping business. You know, trim a few bushes, mow a few yards, keep it simple. Easy-peasy. Never did I expect to meet a beautiful red-headed angel dressed in lace and pearls. She was a walking natural disaster, according to her friends. They tried several times to convince me not to get involved. 

    "She's just a heart-breaker." One would say.

    "She will eat you alive." Another chimed in

    All I could say to these warnings was, "Yeah, it's possible. Did you see those gorgeous blue eyes though?"

    

    There is an amazing phenomenon that takes place as the sun sinks down over the horizon into the depths of the ocean. An eclipse if you will. That flash, so brief that the naked eye can barely see it, that is the only thing I can think of that can come close to the magic I see in that smile of hers. I've met a lot of girls in my time down by the beach. I've lived all of my life on the coast of one of Georgia's many beaches. On one side I have the ocean, a gateway to the world all around. On the other, an interstate that transverses the entire continental United States. Sadly those options of exploration keep bringing in tourists. Usually, if I'm honest, it gets quite annoying. Traffic increase. Confused people everywhere stopping me to ask if I know how to find the "white sand" as described in one of the brochures at the local rest stop. I just not and point. 

    That worked up until a very different kind of day. Have you ever had one of those days where NOTHING seemed to work right? This day takes the cake, I promise. My plan was to just hit the beach. Lay in the sand and chill. I even bought a twelve-pack of Dew. I only do that on special occasions. You know what they say about plans changing? Well, I'm pretty sure my dad started that. I had no sooner put the cooler in the truck when my phone rang.

    "Yeah Dad, what's up?"

    "Hey Conner, what are you doing?" Dad responded

    "I'm about to head to the beach. Do you need something?" Please, please, please don't say you do, I thought

    "Yeah, actually I have to run into the city for the day. It turns out my delivery of mulch has been delayed and I'm going to go get it sorted out."

    "Okay. What does that have to do with me?"

    "I need you to head over to the Abernathy house and trim their bushes. You know they have the premium package for the summer so make sure you do any extra trimming that you see needs done."

    "But Dad, I just worked..."

    "Conner, please?" I hate when he says please

    "Yeah Dad. I got it."

    "Thanks. The trailer is already loaded, just stop over here and hook it to your truck."

    "Did you fix the weed eater yet? You know it's been acting up."    

    "Not yet. Haven't had a chance. Just mess with it. I'm sure you can get it to work. I'll try and grab one while I'm in the city."

    "Alright. Thanks. Be safe Dad. See you soon."

    "Thanks son. You too. Sorry to steal your day."

    "It's okay. You'll just have to make it up to me later."

    "You got it. I'll give you the weekend off."

    "That works." I laughed. "See ya." I hung up the phone before he had a chance to change his mind.

    So with that, I headed to my parent's house to get the trailer. Not only was the trailer hitch broken, it also had a flat tire. After half an hour and not one but two smashed thumbs, I was on the road toward the Abernathy household when my radio in the truck decides to crap out. No tunes. I could use my phone with my headphones, but that means it'll be dead before I finish work. No music for now.

    I pull into the Abernathy drive just in time to see their dog, Buttercup come running toward the gate. A stupid name for such a large dog, but it wasn't my choice. Was the gate locked? Of course not! "The premium package" meant we have to take care of the animals on the premise as well. I jump out of the truck and run to latch the gate. The Doberman had other plans.

    I was fast enough to get my pinkie and ring finger just inside the pink spike collar as she ran past me. I held on with all that I had and was able to drag the giant back into the gate. Thankfully I've been drinking those protein shakes my sister suggested. 

    I was able to latch the gate and put Buttercup in her kennel but not before she got a good bite of my favorite blue jeans. Needless to say, they were toast. From the left knee down was now the property of the beast.

    After looking around, I noticed a few branches out of sorts on the bushes in front of the house. I grabbed the shears and put my headphones in. "Time to terminate." I mumbled while holding the shears in front of my face.

    I clipped the few branches, which mind you, are full of thorns and dug around the bases of the bushes to make sure it looked "perfect." Would I recommend the "premium package" to anyone else? Absolutely not. It's good money, but is it really necessary to make sure that the mulch is exactly where it is supposed to be? Whatever. The nearly twelve new small cuts on my hands provided a wonderful sting as I hoisted the weed eater off the trailer. I should probably edge around the sidewalk going up to the house before I head out. Wouldn't want the grass to be an eighth of an inch too high over the bricks.

    I pulled once, twice, three times. No luck. There is gas in it so that's not the problem. I was getting really frustrated. I threw it down and headed back toward the truck to get the oil when I heard this loud "Honk."

    What now? I thought.

    I turned in time to see an incredibly beautiful red-headed queen jump down out of a ruby red Jeep. Here I was, completely covered in dirt and dust so thick that even I forgot what color my shirt was. None of that mattered though. To me, the entire world melted. This freckle-faced beauty of about five foot five walked right up to me. Clearly she was in the wrong place. She wasn't going to talk to me, right? Maybe she was a friend of the Abernathy's. I was wrong.

    "Hey, Hi... Um... Hi." I'm really good at this, if you can't tell.

    "Hey, I'm..."

    "I like bread..." facepalm

    "Okay. That's good. I like mine toasted."

    "Cool... me too."

    "So, where can we find this white sand that everyone keeps talking about?"

    "Um... white... yeah..."

    "Do you know?" She was so beautiful.

    "Yeah... It's... Just go that way" I pointed.

    "Thanks." She said as she turned to head back toward the Jeep.

    "Yeah... Any... Sure." I stammered.

    I watched as she climbed back into the back of the Jeep. Three very beautiful women were about to drive away when I heard, "Come find me later, Bread."

    "Okay..." I called back.

    What a way to make an impression. Her friends just laughed. One even looked me up and down shaking her head. Even though the blond riding shotgun shouted "Good Luck," I couldn't help but be intrigued by the challenge in that sexy redhead's amazing blue eyes.

[bubmyg]

i’ll be home - myg

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: lawyer!yoongi, fluff

word count: 1,851

summary: he was supposed to work late for your first christmas together, married, so he asks that you go to your parents because it’d make him feel better that you weren’t home alone or where you come home to find out that yoongi hasn’t forgot about the cat sweater you bought him or the artificial tree in the attic

a/n: the final part of aicaib!!! thank u for sticking w me through this series (this is the first time i’ve written a one shot for every member woah) as always, if u need the series masterlist, ask me. this is also part of my lawyer!yoongi series, so if you’d like that masterlist, also let me know :’-)

“Please go to your parents’ tonight,” Yoongi squeezed your hands, pleading, “I’m not asking you to spend the night there. Just go. Eat dinner with them. I don’t like the thought of you being alone.”

“I’m not alone,” You argued, chin dropping to your chest to eye the wiry haired poodle lapping at your ankles, “I have Holly.”

He sighed, dropping your hands to curl long fingers around your cheeks, pressing his lips just above the corner of your mouth. “Angel.” Dark eyes flicked down to you, pursed lips hovering a feathery space away from your skin. “Go,” He chided, “and take Holly. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

You grumbled as Yoongi’s lips trailed down to your jaw.

“Is that a threat?”

Yoongi shrugged off his blocky dress shoes after the third time he’d tripped on the lip of wood from the garage to the foyer, balancing long cardboard boxes and grey tinted plastic bins on his shoulders to pile on the rug in the living room. His shoulders sagged when he peeled the slick black off his heels, puffing out a breath as he stared at the spot where the tree would go.

It was sad really, cleared of the lamp and the corner table and the tiny porcelain pig that normally took purchase there. It’d been cleaned like that for weeks, all intents and purposes to put the tree up for three consecutive weekends and never quite getting there due to scheduling conflict. Now, it was Christmas Eve and all your presents sat underneath what you’d deemed the makeshift tree, or rather, the lavish dining table that a family of two and a dog had no use for.

You’d placed a metal star standee in the center of a knit tablecloth to the oak top of the table, just for good measure.

He forgot the tree broke into three separate pieces, sending the top tumbling into the coffee table and jostling a holder of stone coasters. Pine needles coated the length of his wool sweater by the time he managed to wiggle the tree’s center into the tripod stand, leaving an entirely inconspicuous trail from the damaged cardboard box in the corner of the room to the place where two-thirds of the tree now resided.

The plastic green covered the grinning grey cat plastered to the front of Yoongi’s sweater, outlining the Santa hat perched on top of the character’s head and masking the string of multicolored lights that collage the surface of the top. It was a gift from you, one he’d promised to wear and had artfully avoided until he found yours that matched, tag still on, buried in a ridiculous crevice of your closet. Maybe it was the guilt of taking a case this close to Christmas and continually delaying the construction of the tree to where he had to send you to your parents under the pretense that he wouldn’t be home until late on Christmas Eve, of all things, just so he could sneak in and do it all himself.

But now he couldn’t stop seeing the amused light in your eyes when he’d opened the sweater, your elbow nudging his stomach and cheering, “I have one too! We can match, if you want…”

Yoongi did want to. Now and always. Last names, glittering metal bands, cat sweaters, and all.

He replaced the star on the dining table with your folded sweater, a bit crumpled from being smashed behind a box of his boots, but the grey kitten smiled nonetheless as he plopped a shiny red bow on the corner of the fabric.

The shards of the artificial tree once snagged on Yoongi’s sweater pooled around his socks when he stretched to place the top third of the tree in place. His torso scratched against the limbs, rolled as far as the arches in his feet would allow. With a grunt and a semi dangerous totter of the entire structure, the top was on the tree while a fine layer of sweat beaded across his brow.

“Lights,” He muttered to himself, swiping at his forehead with the cuff of his sweater. “I need lights—” Yoongi paused, index finger lifted, as if pondering the weather or at the very least speaking to someone, “—or music. I need music first.”

He managed to connect the wireless speakers stationed between the rungs of the balcony upstairs, cascading a playlist he found titled Holiday Tunes down into the glowing warmth of the living room. Yoongi clapped, triumphant.

“Okay. Now lights.”

He found them buried underneath a quilted stocking, an unopened package of shatterproof ornaments, and three different stems of mistletoe. He considered the short stalks of green clutched in his palm, the red bow hand tied at the end with ends tickling at the underside of his wrist.

“Couldn’t hurt…” Yoongi squinted, the towering doorway in the threshold from the garage to the hallway arched and daunting for someone who could barely reach his favorite coffee cup in the kitchen cabinet. “Right? Right.”

For once, he wished he were tripping over Holly so that his nonsensical ramblings could at least be heard by someone.

He managed to tape the mistletoe with a half tacky piece he found pasted on top of the (empty) dispenser you kept in a drawer filled with grill lighters and a half opened box of plastic spoons and the spare key to the car you traded in two months ago. Only the bottom link of his spine seemed to be pulled from how high he’d had to stretch after dragging over the leather upholstered footstool and balanced socked feet in the center.

Yoongi found himself tangled in three strands of lights, all connected, two that were half on, tiny twinkling lights burning hot through his black slacks as he pulled out kinks in the braided wire, leaving them in an equally messy pile on the floor. One strand, the one that worked completely, barely covered the circumference of the hulking bottom of the tree and he was halfway through dragging a new strand out from the blue tinted tub (one he thought was red rather than “bright white” but he was willing to take the gamble) when he swore the garage door was opening.

Holly found him first, toenails clacking down the length of the hall and skidding sideways into the door frame before letting out a delighted yip! and stumbling straight into his shins. The wire of the lights was still secured in Yoongi’s front teeth as he crouched, roughing gentle palms across the puppy’s muzzle until you rounded the corner, propping your shoulder against the door frame.

He met your accusing gaze with wide eyes and rounded lips, the perfect circle of his mouth causing the lights to tumble out and drape across Holly’s neck. “Hi!” He chirped, brushing the lights of his wriggling puppy with a nervous smile, “How was dinner—”

“We drove by your office,” You pushed yourself up, taking a scuffing step closer, “and you weren’t there.”

Yoongi worried the inside of his cheek into his molars, “I was. I came home early.”

You hummed, “I can see that—”

You were cut off by the brunt of his torso smacking into you, arm circumventing your waist, hand clutching yours as he swayed you in a dramatic circle. Something festive but softer floated down from the speakers but his guiding footsteps barely followed the beat anyway, socked feet nudging at your slightly chilled ones.

“You really thought I’d leave you home alone on Christmas?” Yoongi’s gums blinded your heart a bit, arm squeezing you tighter against him as he corrected, “Our first Christmas together, might I add.”

“This isn’t our first—”

His thumb and index finger twisting at the band on your second finger from the left had your heart stuttering into the base of your throat. “This ring was a little different last Christmas,” He mused, centering the diamond to lace your fingers again.

“You spent too much…”

“I’ll buy you three more,” Yoongi squeezed your palm, “We can renew our vows twice a year, if you want.”

“I don’t,” You grinned when he feigned offense, pressing your face against his chest, “Can’t top the best day of my life.”

His chest rumbled with a scratchy laugh, chin on top of your head as he directed your blind figure out of the living room to the tune of some song featuring the tinkle of bells and Holly’s high stepping claws against the hardwood. “I got you an early present,” He mused, dropping your hand to reach for your half wrinkled sweater on the dining table.

Your eyebrows furled for barely a second, fond annoyance meeting the roll of your eyes as you opened and let the hem of the sweater fall. “I bought this,” You jabbed an index finger into his stomach, “and this one.”

“Just put it on.”

“I didn’t go to my parents, by the way,” You cocked an eyebrow at him after shoving your head through the slightly too small hole, threads snapping in the process. You centered the sleeves of your sweater over your watch and bracelets while picking your hair out of places it shouldn’t be, watching him with a tiny, knowing smile.

“Why?”

You hummed, plucking absently at some leftover pine needles still taking residency on his chest, “Didn’t want to hear my mom tell me how you’re too busy for me.”

Yoongi curled his index finger underneath your chin, pressing his lips gently to yours. “Hmm, I am,” He rolled his eyes in time with you, pecking down your chin to the pulse point on your neck, “I have a tree to decorate.”

You snorted, letting him pull you in messy, looping circles back into the living room. “Do you?”

“I’ve been busy, miss,” The tree appeared to weep when his wincing gaze sliced over to it, taking in the lopsided top that he hadn’t quite secured and the singular strand of lights that was buried much too far into the artificial limbs, plug in to add the next strand nowhere to be seen and the lights he’d half untangled still red. Not white. “I mean, I didn’t think you’d come home just yet so I—”

You placed a gentle palm on Yoongi’s cheek, leaving a tender kiss to him lips.

“It’s perfect.”

His nose wrinkled, chin cocking just enough to brush the tip against yours, “Is it?”

“No,” You pecked his mouth again, “but we can fix it.”

“I got it inside, at least?” Yoongi’s eyes twinkled a bit as he cheered, “and I put up mistletoe!”

You followed the path of his pointing finger, only to find the spot he was referring to void of any green foliage. Instead, that piece laid in a sad lump on the floor, Holly’s nose buried against the stem as he danced on top of the leaves at his newest discovery.

“We can fix that, too but…” You shrugged, “You better kiss me, reverse the bad luck of letting it touch the floor.”

“Oh, is that the rule?”

“You’re the lawyer, Yoon.”

[kelleyish]

Tumblr, I tell you what. I’ve been having a difficult couple of weeks. I’m still kind of in the middle of it, too.  I’m having another “poor me” phase, and feeling very discouraged about everything. The business thing is still struggling, and I’m having trouble finding motivation to do things.  This in turn makes me feel like I don’t have what it takes to run my own business, and I should just go punch someone else’s time clock until I’m 70.

I’m sticking to keto, but truthfully it’s only because I went and put my car away in my garage a week ago, so I don’t have access to it to make midnight 7-11 runs. Nevertheless, every night my brain taps on my shoulder, asking if I should maybe steal my parent’s car keys, or if it’s too far to walk to the store.

While I’m eating keto, I haven’t been able to get my calories down as low as they need to be yet. Even though I weigh 300 lbs, my calories need to be down around 1200 a day to make any significant progress. And I haven’t been able to get down there yet.

Before I got off track a month ago,  my lowest weight was 296.  I saw as high as 305 on the scale sometime this month, and then as I made attempts to get back on the wagon I got back down to 298-something, which I think also aligned with shark week. Then I bounced back up again to around 304. I’ve been weighing every day for about the last week, and for the last few days I’ve been stuck on 300.8.  

In my mind I’ve pretty much already lost that weight loss bet I made.  I’ve wasted an entire month, and now I only have four months and still an entire 50 lbs to lose.  An average 300 lb person, especially a guy, could easily lose 50lbs in four months with a little hard work, but frankly I just don’t think my body will do it.  If I could get to a place where I think I could give some extended fasts a go it *could* be possible, but currently I’m way too hungry for that.

And finally, as I mentioned, my being on the wagon currently is being maintained by external factors, like being at my parents’ house without access to my car.  My willpower is pretty low. This upcoming weekend over Labor Day, I have to go down to Austin and housesit/dogsit for my brother. I will be all alone, unsupervised, with a car and a city at my disposal... and it just doesn’t look good. I’ve got the metaphorical angel and devil on my shoulder, the angel reminding me the diet bet isn’t out of range but can afford no more delays, while the devil whispers about the kolache shops in West, and RoundRock Donuts, and all the good food they have in Austin.

So, that’s all the internal reasons I’ve had a hard week.  Externally, when I walked into my house a couple days ago it was 91 degrees inside, even though the A/C was running.  I turned it off and went back the next day, in case it had frozen up, but it still didn’t work the next day.  The system is only four years old, but I wonder if I managed to damage it by running it too much, trying to hit a certain electricity used goal so that I can get the cheapest electricity bill I can. So now it’s going to cost who knows how much to fix that. The system has a 10 year warranty but I’m pretty sure that’s just parts and not labor.

Second, I’ve had some Funko Pops for sale on eBay for a little while.  One of them, a Lucky the Leprechaun figure, sold last week.  So I packaged it up and sent it off, and immediately when the buyer received it, he requested a refund because the item was damaged. He was trying to claim it wasn’t the item that was in the pictures, that this one was all beat up looking.  Well of course what I sent him was in pristine condition, and I immediately knew it was a scammer because I’d heard other people talk about the same thing on the Funko subreddit. The scammer claims they want to return the item, and if you accept, they get their money back and they ship you not what you sold them, but something worthless it its place.

After looking closer, I discovered this buyer’s account was less than two weeks old and has zero feedback. Had I noticed this before, I would have thought twice about completing the sale in the first place, because these scammers create new accounts every time they pull this, since the account will get banned when the scam is discovered. Rest assured I will not make that mistake ever again. 

I requested proof of the damage from the buyer twice, which they ignored both times.  After 5 days, I was told, the buyer would have the ability to escalate the claim, at which time eBay would step in. At that point, the buyer would have to provide proof, right?  Wrong.  The buyer escalated the claim at 2:30 AM (in the middle of the night, of course), and by 2:35 AM eBay had already sided with him and directed him to return the item to me, even though they could see my messages in their system and that he’d ignored my requests for proof.

I spent the next two days being pissed off about it, until I received his package back, containing - surprise surprise - a figure of Cartman from South Park, worth probably $5, instead of the $100 figure I had sold him.  I called eBay and they refunded my money without even asking for any proof on my end.  I guess maybe $100 is small potatoes for them but this whole process made me so angry. If they had asked the scammer for even a shred of proof... And then, when someone returns an eBay item, they have the option of making the seller pay for return shipping, so of course he did that as well. So that ended up being another couple of calls to eBay, making them refund that charge too, since it had turned out to be a scam and wasn’t my idea to allow the return in the first place.

On a completely different note, I recommend the movie Ready or Not, out in theatres right now.  It had a pitiful opening weekend, which surprised me.  It’s gotten good reviews, and it was a great movie. Samara Weaving was great in it, and I learned she’s Hugo Weaving’s niece (Agent Smith from Matrix, the elf dad guy in LOTR, and Red Skull from Captain America). Also Adam Brody was good in it, and I always like to see Dave Rygalski doing well.