#it's especially bad with legal advice!

[electrosquash]

I wish US Americans would at least specify the country their PSA posts are relevant to. If not tag them something i can filter. I don't need to get alarmed over new t-mobile fines only to dig out the keyword "all 50 states" at the bottom of a unsourced un-alttexted screenshot making the rounds. I only have so much care in a day and i'd rather use it for stuff actually relevant to me.

[gentlenotes-moved]

(vent in tags)

[dduane]

I just received a copy of a book I've been very much looking forward to by a favorite author, but the quality of the book itself is... not great. Cheap paper, weak binding, even a weird illustration of the main character on the cover that I'm having trouble believing the author approved. Obviously, I don't want to leave a bad review on Amazon or GoodReads or anywhere, as I'm 100% certain the content is as excellent as her other work. But how can I best let the publisher (Baen) know I'm disappointed without threatening to never buy her books again? Because, well, if this is the only option, I'm gonna keep buying them even in my disappointment.

Well, the first thing I thought when I read this was "Wow, I'm really glad I don't have anything in print from Baen at the moment except a couple of anthologized short stories." :)

As for the rest of it, let's take it point by point.

Adding a cut here, because this will run a bit long. Caution: contains auctorial bitching and moaning, painful illustrations of cases in point, and brief advice on how to complain most effectively. (Also links to paintings of cats.)

Cheap paper: This has been an accurate complaint since well before COVID—and it's often been worse since, with supply chain issues also being involved. That said: one way publishers routinely save money on printing books, especially the bigger ones, is by going for thinner/cheaper paper. I remember one of our UK editors going on at great length and with huge annoyance—during one of those late-night convention-bar bitch sessions—over how the only way they could get some really good books published (because Upstairs insisted on reducing the per-copy production costs) was by reducing the paper quality to the point where you could nearly read through it. Sacrificing decent text size(s) also became part of this. Nobody in editorial was happy about the result: but there wasn't much they could do.

Bad bindings: Similar problem. Sewn bindings used to be a thing in paperbacks... but not any more: not for a good while, now. These days, it's all glue. Even hardcovers are showing up glued rather than sewn. Don't get me started. :/ (This is why I so treasure some of the oldest paperbacks I've acquired, which are actually sewn.)

Crap covers: I've had my share of these—though my share of some really good ones, too. And one of the endless frustrations of traditional publishing is that the writer routinely has little or even no influence over what the cover will look like... let alone how much will be spent on it, or (an often-related issue) how good the execution will be.

There are of course exceptions. If you're working at the, well, @neil-gaiman -esque level or similar in publishing, a lot more attention is going to be paid to your thoughts. You may even be able to get "cover veto" written into your contracts, so that if you disapprove, changes will get made. But without actual contractual stipulations, the writer has zero legal recourse or way to withhold approval. (And I bet even Neil has some horror stories.)

The normal workflow looks like this. After a book's purchased, its editor and the art director discuss what it's about and what the cover should look like. The art director then hires an artist and tells them what to do. After that, the artist executes their vision and gets paid. It is incredibly rare for a writer to have any significant input into this process. And as to whether or not they approve of the final result, well... the publisher mostly just shrugs and goes back to eyeing the bottom line, muttering "Who told them they get a vote?"

Now, I've been seriously lucky to occasionally be an exception in this regard. In particular, my editors at Harcourt (when Jane Yolen and Michael Stearns were editing Harcourt's Magic Carpet YA imprint) would ask me what I thought would be a good idea for the next Young Wizards cover, and I'd think about it a bit and send them back a paragraph or so about some core scene. They'd then talk to their art director, and after that send their notes and mine to Cliff Nielsen (who started doing the covers for the hardcover and mass-market paperback editions of the series in the mid-90s) or to Greg Swearingen (who was the artist on the digest-format editions). And the results, by and large, were pretty good. ...I also think affectionately of the UK artist Mick Posen, who insisted on seeing pictures of our cats before painting the covers for the Hodder editions of The Book of Night with Moon and On Her Majesty's Wizardly Service (the UK title for To Visit The Queen).

But this kind of treatment is a courtesy—not even vaguely suggested in the books' contracts, and very much the exception to the rule. And for every writer who's midlist, there are times when the luck runs out. For example: one time I wrote a book that was an AU-Earth-near-future fantasy police procedural, thematically pretty dark—dealing with issues of abuse of megacorporate power, institutionalized bigotry, and (explicitly) attempted genocide. And the cover, done by an artist who's a good friend and some of whose fabulous art hangs in our house, came out looking like this. It was... let's just say "not ideally representative."

So I was glad, when my local workflow allowed it, to recover the current, revised version of the book with something at least a little more apropos. But the original cover's not the artist's fault. He did what the art director told him... as a cover artist must do to get paid, and (ideally) to get hired again. At present, that's how the system works.

...So. You've got a badly-built and -presented book on your hands. How best to make your feelings known in some way that might make a difference down the line? (As you make it plain that you'll keep buying this author's books this way if you must.)

First of all: when (as part of my psych nursing training) we were taught how to complain most effectively, we were told that the first and most basic rule of the art is this:

Only Complain To Someone Who Can Actually Do Something About Your Problem

So I salute your desire not to waste your time taking the issue to the reviews on Amazon, or the pages of Goodreads... because they can't do anything. The odds that anyone from production at Baen is reading the comments there strike me as... well, not infinitesimally small, not being hit-by-a-meteorite-while-in-the-shopping-center-parking-lot small... but really low.

So: write to corporate.

In your place I would go online and rummage around a bit to find out who's on record as the publisher at Baen. I would then write them a letter on paper. And I would lay out the problem pretty much as you laid it out up at the top.

The tone I think I'd choose would be the more-in-sorrow-than-in-anger approach. I'd say, "I write to comment about your recently published book by [X Writer], whose work I love. I have to say, though, that I don't think the cover on [X Book] is terribly representative of the quality of the prose inside. And also, the construction and production quality of the book itself was a disappointment to me because [here spell out why].

"I'd really like to see [X. Writer's] books succeed with you, and I'd like to buy more of them without wondering whether I was going to be disappointed again. But if this is typical of how they're being produced, I'd also be concerned that the state of these books is setting up a situation in which the author's sales will be damaged, and you would stop publishing them... which would really be a shame. Whereas on the other hand, better production quality could keep previous purchasers coming back and buying, not only more books by this author, but books by others whom you publish."

This phrasing, as you'll have seen, walks a bit wide around the issue of your further purchases, while directing attention toward the bottom line... which will routinely be what the publisher's looking at from day to day. And—being, one has to hope, in possession of the wider picture as regards what's going on with their production costs—maybe they can actually do something about it.

Anyway, nothing ventured, nothing gained, yeah? It's worth a try. All you can do is hope for the best.

And finally: please know that I admire your commitment to the author: whoever she is, she's lucky to have you. It's a terrific thing to have readers who'll willing to spend the time to hunt you down, and who're willing not to judge a book by its cover. :)

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Overlords + child overlord reader

!!!Not proofread!

Alastor: “They're filled with potential that I could guide!” Yeah, he’d try to recruit you. Listen while I know this probably would never happen I think it would be funny if he actually started seeing you as his kid. Like this man did not think of even slightly liking you, but here you are as his kid. Anywho- He would trust you to go out by yourself. I mean you're literally an overlord. But you're also a kid who is seen as weak and an easy target. While you usually deal with it, you have been hit a few times. Since you’ve become his kid his Radio show is never running low on screams. You make fun of Vox together at meetings.

Rosie: Do you want a new mom? Yes? Well, you’re in luck! No? Too bad! Either way, you’re adopted now, congrats. Maybe not legally but it’s hard to tell the difference with you too. Very impressed with how powerful you are at such a young age. A wee bit worried but still you’re powerful. Just tell her if someone does land a hit on you though, depending on her mood she might get a new meal. If need advice on anything, especially being an overlord, she’ll happily comply. Also, she will let you sit on her lap at meetings. 

Vox: fucking Ipad baby  For the most part he wouldn’t pay any mind to you tbh. But if you openly hate Alastor? There is a new member of the vees I’ll tell you that much. Even if your name does start with a v. You only really run into him on the street and in meetings though. Your ass is not going into the headquarters (or whatever it's called) because of a certain, as Velvette would say, piss baby. You're getting the latest technology. Whether you want it or not is irrelevant. 

Velvette: Girlie (gender neutral) if you are on her good side you are spoiled. But you do have to get rid of ¾ of your closet. But you also get new clothes so you win some, you lose a few hundred. You are allowed into the v headquarters but only for short periods of time and in her area only. I would compare you to a sassy rich lady and her poodle. Carmilla: Listen I’m going to keep it real with you she does not want you to be an overlord. Like even if you guys don’t get along you’re still a child. Keeps a close eye on you. Anyway, she has three kids now. She’s leading the meeting while you're just sitting on her shoulders. No one dares mention it because they don’t want to find out if she’ll put her weapons to use. Very good life advice, it rivals Rosie’s.  If were to get adopted by any overlord she’d be the best pick.

[o-sachi]

Can't Hold My Liquor - Headcanons (Blue Lock Chars.)

ᯓ how do the blue lock boys handle a drunk reader? ᯓ characters; michael kaiser, oliver aiku, sae itoshi, barou shoei, karasu tabito, yukimiya kenyu ᯓ tags; mentions of alcohol and being drunk/tipsy, just fluff, established relationship gn reader, no y/n

[🐟]: Obviously, I don't condone underage drinking or any unresponsible consumption of alcohol. I purposely chose characters both based on the request and their ages. So, yes, they're of legal age. Drink responsibly! (I wish I followed my own advice).

Michael Kaiser

"Hm? What's that? I can't understand you if you're mumbling~"

This ass would take funny videos of you first before helping you at all. But not to worry, the videos are for his eyes and his amusement only. Maybe if you were REALLY upset, he'd consider deleting them.

While he does help you, Kaiser will still find a way to tease you or make fun of you. You're slurring your words? Funny. You can't walk straight? Funny. You're spilling a life's worth of secrets? Could be funny—depends.

"Mhm, and what happened next? C'mon don't leave me hanging here."

He'd hate having to deal with puking (that is, if you do happen to end up in that unfortunate situation). But he'll reluctantly gladly help his s/o clean themselves up and drink some much needed water.

But it's highly unlikely that you reach that point because he stops you from drinking too much anyway. He'll refuse any more drinks in your stead and if anyone offers you more, he'll chug it down himself.

Actually enjoys carrying your drunk self. He likes it because you become clingier and more dependent on him. He'll soothe you until you eventually fall asleep (which is fast). He likes pampering you when you're all disoriented like this.

Oliver Aiku

"You're quite cute when you're drunk."

It's not that he likes torturing your liver, but he'd gladly take care of you when you get drunk. He just loves it when a different side of you takes over... thanks to the alcohol.

He'd be so touchy—keeping you in his arms to help you sit up straight, holding your hand when you need to take a trip to the bathroom, supporting the back of your head when you're taking a sip of water so that you don't fall over, and so on.

"Hey, hey, sloooowly. You're gonna get water in your nose."

He'd go along with any of your drunken antics. If you decide all of a sudden that you wanna go up on the table and dance—he's going to join you.

But he'll gently calm you down if you get ahead of yourself. His voice would soften as he cups your cheek—trying to knock some sense back into you.

Also enjoys carrying you, but prefers to give you a piggy back ride. Last time he did a bridal carry... it upset your stomach and you know the rest...

Sae Itoshi

"What a pain... You're lucky I have a soft spot for you."

He doesn't enjoy drinking and even more so the atmosphere associated with it. But he tries it once because you wanted to. He thought it wouldn't be so bad. Spoiler alert: he now regrets his decision.

He won't drink for 3 reasons: 1) Again, he hates it, 2) he's the designated driver, and 3) he knows he will have to take care of you.

Sae has a poker face the whole time, but deep down he's amused by your change of demeanor. It's not that he's loathing the situation he's in (he is) but in reality, he's just observing you closely.

ALWAYS REMINDS YOU TO DRINK WATER. Even when you're not drinking actually. He'd prefer it if you sobered up faster.

When you do get too drunk, he'll carry you out of there especially if you go drinking at a place with a bunch of strangers (like a bar). It's because he doesn't want you to find yourself in a compromising situation in public or possible humiliate yourself. Aww...

He'd gladly give you a shower to help you clean yourself and cool off. While you're still disoriented, he'll take it as an opportunity to talk with you (more of a monologue) about things he can't say to you while you're sober.

Barou Shoei

"Tsk... seeing you like this... now I have to be there whenever you decide to get drunk huh?"

HE IS MOTHER. He's not usually overbearing, but he is when you're drunk. Hell, Barou's not even sure why he supported this decision of yours in the first place.

But then again... he figured if this would make you happy, then he'd just have to do what he can to keep you safe and sound.

He tries not to show it, but he's actually super anxious while watching you drink and have the time of your life. His leg's bouncing so much that it's almost a workout.

"Jesus. This smells like the shit you use to clean bathrooms." / "Hehehe... it means it's strong." / "God, give me strength...."

Will definitely give you a lecture on the way home and until you're sober. But he can't reallyyyy be angry with you. He was just insanely worried and this is his way of diffusing it.

He'll set you on the bathroom counter and do your skin care for you since you're so out of it. You won't be able to remember it well, but he'll have a look of utmost focus on his face as he rubs the product into your skin. SUCH A CUTIE.

Karasu Tabito

"Yer a wild one, ain'cha?"

He has a really high alcohol tolerance, so he doesn't mind drinking along with you and taking care of you right after (if you can't keep up with his pace.)

Karasu hates spoiling your fun. But once you're reaaaaally drunk, he has to do something about it. So he may or may not take a glass of juice and pass it off as alcohol just so you can continue to "drink".

He's like your own personal bodyguard, especially if you decide to go drinking in a public establishment. He'll be hovering over you protectively, observing the people surrounding you, and making sure you don't faceplant into the ground.

"Woah, woah, what do ya think yer doin'? Waltzin' over 'ere like ya got business with my darlin'?"

Does your whole night routine for you once you get back home. He'll be so slow and steady with you. Karasu will also make sure that you've had your meds before totally passing out to hopefully ease the impending hangover.

He will continue to take care of you even in the following morning. He'll wake up ahead of you and start with the breakfast, wanting to surprise you.

Yukimiya Kenyu

"Don't worry about a thing. I got you, okay?"

He thinks of himself as a social drinker and finds parties to be just fine. But he'll have a grand total of one cocktail and maybe 1 shot if he was urged to have one. So yeah, he can take care of you if needed.

His trick is pulling you to the dancefloor and keeping you busy there so that you don't have to go back to the bar and drown yourself in more alcohol.

Yuki will make sure you look dashing as ever throughout the night. I mean, it's no surprise that at some point you'll be looking disheveled. He'll fix your hair, your makeup, and even if your clothes.

"Come with me for a sec... let's get you freshened up."

HE WILL BE GUIDING YOU EVERYWHERE. Doesn't matter if you're only walking a couple of steps—Yuki will be there to hold your hand so you don't trip on air.

He'll seriously entertain your drunken ramblings while he tends to you and your night routine. If you ask him anything (even a stupid question), Yuki will give it some thought and actually answer back is if he were talking to someone sober.

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

[carriesthewind]

I beg of you.

If you ever find yourself in legal trouble, and you cannot afford a lawyer, please seek out free legal services in your area. Especially if you live in a major metropolitan area in the U.S. - there is a good chance that there is at least *some* free legal services available.

Please seek out those legal resources even if you think it is too late. Or even if you think there will be nothing a lawyer can do to help. Or hell, even if you think you've already got everything covered and you don't need help - best case scenario, a lawyer can confirm you are correct and you can sleep easier. (And if you are wrong - they can tell you before you learn the hard way.)

And please seek out those legal resources even if you have other, non-legal assistance. A social worker, a case manager, etc. - they are not a lawyer.

Be prepared for any legal services to be brief, and limited (e.g. just advice). Be prepared for a lawyer to only give you bad news, and tell you there is nothing they can do to help. But you don't know what legal options you might have until you seek them out.

This post was brought to you by seeing people who have been evicted, people who didn't reach out for legal help because they thought it was too late, or they thought a lawyer couldn't help, or because they thought they had it covered, or because they were working with a social worker/case manager/etc. who they trusted to know all of their options.

People whose evictions could have been stopped, if they had known to reach out for legal aid in advance.

[rougepancake]

Just My Type

FT. Jonathan Joestar, Joseph Joestar, Jotaro Kujo, Josuke Higashikata, & Giorno Giovanna

Pt. 1 | Pt. 2

WARNINGS: Sexually explicit content under cut. Minors and ageless blogs dni. Fem!Reader. Stalking, panty stealing, inappropriate use of stands, pervy jojos, masturbation, accurate to their individual timelines. Don Giorno and Cop Josuke. NOT PROOFREAD!!

SUMMARY: Perv headcanons for the JoJo’s up through part five. Might make one for the JoBros-

JONATHAN JOESTAR

Out of all of them, he feels the most guilt

He’s a gentleman, after all

First it starts out with him eyeing your body, taking subtle peeks throughout the day

It then escalates to him brushing against you gently, and it kills him

There’s not much he can do outside of watching you and getting off to you before bed

SPEAKING OF THAT-

He humps his pillow

God he’s so desperate and needy too

Especially when you have no idea. For whatever reason, it makes his heart swell

But he feels so bad about it. What if you ever found out? What would you do? Do you feel the same way about him??

Once saw you riding your horse and was genuinely never the same after that

There was something about how determined you looked, with that wistful look in your eyes that just turned him on

He’s so down bad that he asked Dio for advice

“Get her drunk and convince her to stay. She’s stupid enough anyways.” “Grope her… duh…”

Dio does NOT give two shits about wether not his advice is legal

However, Jonathan follows through with the alcohol one

It’s his only chance to get close to you outside of studying alongside you

And to his surprise, you come over and share some wine with him

Thankfully, you wind up getting tipsy first, which gives him the chance to make his move

“Ah, y/n. It’s not safe for you to travel back to your estate in such a condition. Allow me to provide you with somewhere to spend the night.”

He lets you stay in his bed, and even convinces you to wear his clothes to bed

Snuck into the room while you were asleep and just watched you

Oh how he wanted to touch you, to feel you, but he couldn’t. It felt like he couldn’t do anything about his feelings for you and it bothered him so

Also practically ruined his clothes once he got them back. (Listen man sometimes it’s hard to get cum stains out-)

Dio never lets him hear the end of it and proceeds to give him shitty advice

JOSEPH JOESTAR

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- this man is a WHORE‼️

He has no shame whatsoever and refuses to keep his feelings for you a secret

In fact, you can barely tell if he’s kidding or not when he hits on you

He steals your clothing

Shirts? Gone. Bras? Never to be seen again. Panties? Oh he’ll steal them, ruin them, and then slip them back into your dresser when he’s over

He loves the idea of getting away with it, and it turns him on to know that you’re just as clueless as ever

Slips pictures of himself into your house, leaving them on the counter to make you think of him

Honestly thinks he’s so smooth (Caesar thinks he’s fucking weird)

Has no problem with smacking your ass out of the blue

Also really likes to pick you up and bury his face in your chest

Has collected various photos of you and gets off to them almost every night

Like it’s just a pic of you smiling and he’s hard as hell

While Jonathan whimpers and begs, Joseph moans and mutters

On the loudness scale he’s about 13/10

He does not give a flying FUCK about who hears him

Talks dirty while he fucks his hand, closing his eyes to picture your beautiful face between his legs, smiling up at him

Yeah he likes to take sneak peeks of you in the bath, so what?!

Does all of this with the mentality of “she’ll be mine eventually, so I’m entitled to a head start-“

JOTARO KUJO

Feels a little guilty about it at first, but never feels that way ever again once he gets ahold of a Polaroid of you in a bikini

Carries that shit around with him EVERYWHERE

He has also collected various photos of you, and has a mini photo album that’s dedicated to pictures of you smiling

Sorry but I think he’s into dacryphilia

Sure he loves to see you happy and enjoying yourself, but he just thinks you look so pretty when you cry

He fucking loves it when you come to him in tears, taking it as his chance to wrap his arm around you and bring you in closer to him

He constantly tells you that you’re annoying, but would smash you in a heartbeat

Enemies to lovers bs but he’s in love with you from the start

He prefers to steal your bras over anything else (he seriously has a thing for tits-) and DOES NOT give them back until they stop smelling like you

He also (occasionally) steals your shirts and replaces them with his own. The idea of you walking around in one of his shirts when it’s too big for you really gets him going

Loves to take you out for drinks and then escort you back home

Even better if you’re a lightweight

It gives him a reason to carry you back to your place and tuck you in bed

Once found your ‘special drawer’ while snooping around and fucking stole your vibrator

Granted, he bought you a much better one and snuck it into your drawer, but you were pissed when you noticed it’s absence

He has, and will continue to, use Star Platinum/The World to stop time and get his hands on you

Even if it’s just for a few seconds, he’ll be thinking about it all day

Oh god and Star Platinum loves you too

Grabs and holds you. 10/10 cuddler, even if Jotaro is incredibly embarrassed

You’ve always just seen it as ‘Jotaro’s lonely side’ and nothing more, so you don’t tell off Star

Star has been known to sneak away from Jotaro just to hang out with you

If you and Joot ever end up sharing a hotel room together for any reason, Star will hump you in your sleep

Now, Jotaro lets out low grunts and moans, but is typically quiet when getting off. STAR PLATINUM???? Fucking whimpers and whines like there’s no tomorrow

This man is hanging on by a thread

JOSUKE HIGASHIKATA

Man

On the guilt scale, he’s second place for sure

Feels HORRIBLE

But is also like his dad with the “yolo” mentality

Steals your shirts and shorts, sleeps in them (even if they’re too small), and refuses to give them back

Like your clothes just keep vanishing and you’re like ???

Has used Crazy Diamond to sneak into your place and has no real intentions of stopping

Has a shit ton of photos of you sleeping hidden away in his room

Really just wants to hear you call him a good boy

When he’s needy, he is NEEDY. Humps his pillow, whimpers, whines, the whole ass package

His hand just isn’t enough for him anymore

Unlike his father, he’s not brave enough to get close to you or touch you. My guy can’t even hug you without turning a bright shade of red

Oh and if you come over to play games with him, he’s a total goner

Absolute mess of a man

Can’t do shit without being embarrassed, so he’s a lot less weird than the others

But by god what he would give to hear you call him a good boy

It’s like his one dream

Rohan once used Heaven’s Door on him to get more dirt on him and has (some) no regrets. Will never let Josuke hear the end of it.

“Ohoho you like y/n? Josuke you good for nothing pervert. Give the woman a break.”

Prays that one day you’ll be in trouble and he’ll be the officer sent out to save you

GIORNO GIOVANNA

He’s one second away from going full blown yandere

You can’t change my mind

He’s got everything he needs at his fingertips, and could easily take you away without having to lift a finger

Openly flirts with you, but treats you with such respect that you can’t tell if he’s just being nice or not

Also spoils you

Buys you anything he’s ever seen you take interest in

Even if you don’t really want it, it WILL show up at your door eventually

Makes sure to sign his gifts to you so you don’t forget who it is that’s spoiling you like this

Kisses your hand and cheeks in a way that he claims is platonic

Loves it when you trust him enough that you can come to him for anything. Gossip? Do tell. Something bothering you? Just let him know and he’ll have it all sorted out in no time

I shit you not he makes you sit on his lap while you tell him about your day

You think it’s because the two of you are such good friends, but he actually just loves the sight of you pressed against him

His voice gets higher pitched when he gets off, and he begs a version of you that doesn’t exist to let him cum, pleading with you over and over

Eventually, he’ll start to feel bad about it, but he’d much rather live in the moment

[reareaotaku]

can we please get more Judd :((((((

Of course! I have really conflicting views about the show Big Mouth. Though NGL, I loved Human Resources So, this is going to be like a part 2 in a way [Part 1 Here & Part 3 Here]

He doesn't remember when he started to a crush on you, but it grew fast

And god he hated it so much. He wanted to stab these feelings and kill them

He bottled them for a long time and for a while it worked... Until it didn't

He would never admit he was jealous, but anyone could tell

One of those theater idiots decided to flirt with you and Judd wanted to bash the guy's head in with a brick

He doesn't but god he wants too

He introduces you to his raccoons

You think they're so cute and he [for a slight second] smiles a little, thinking you're adorable, but he shakes it off

He'll listen to your problems, even though he finds them annoying

You usually rant to him when you feel you can't talk to Leah about a certain topic or she's [Leah] not available

Though, you better not talk about a guy, because that doesn't go well

He'll give you advice on your problems, but it's usually something violent. Like saying you're having problems with your boss and Judd will tell you to just kick him down some stairs

^"Umm... I love your enthusiasm, but let's stay in the mindset of legal and morally acceptable advice"

It really isn't very good advice to you, because like I said, it's usually violence

Your father is a doctor and when you were getting something and you see Nick in the waiting room

"Nick?" He looks towards the voice, before his eyes widens and he awkwardly swishes around, "Hey, Y/n." "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" "I ate a weed gummy with my friend and I think I'm having a heart attack." You tilt your head at the freaked-out prepubescent boy. "Heart attack? I don't think you're having a heart attack, but you could be having a panic attack." "What the fuck is a panic attack?" Before you can answer, Judd jumps in asking what was going on. "What the hell are you doing here?" You both turn towards the male, who had his hand wrapped in some gauze. You pointed to it, "What happened to your hand?" "Raccoon accident." You decided not to question it and turned back towards Nick, "Are you okay, Nick?" "I don't know-" "What even happened to you, numbnuts?" Judd wanted to call his brother a dumbass, but he kept it to himself with you around. "I ate a weed gummy with Jessi and I think something's wrong with my heart." Judd rolls his eyes, "You're just stoned." "I didn't know that was a common thing when you were stoned." "It's not, he's just an idiot. Come on, you little pecker."

Judd feels like an idiot around you and it irrates the fuck out of him

He just wants to be himself, but he tones it down around you

Your parents don't like him

They think he's a future criminal and they're scared he'll either get you locked in jail, knocked up, or dead

And while he is Future Criminal, he would never get you in trouble

^ Leah thinks it's cute with how much her brother likes you

Judd is protective over you. If a guy is ever harassing you, something bad is going to happen to them and it may or may not be Judd's fault

If you ever want to be alone, especially at one of Leah's parties, just hang around him, because no one would dare approach you, especially if he has a hand around you or something

Nick uses you as a blackmail of sorts against Judd

"Well, I'll just let Y/n know that you're an asshole."

"I don't give a fuck."

"Y/n doesn't like assholes."

Judd roles his eyes, groaning, before gettting up and doing whatever Nick needs

If Judd says something stupid, Nick will ask you if you like the thing, annoying the fuck out of Judd

Leah thinks it's annoying that her brother's are always trying to steal you away from her or take away most of your time and attention

^ You're her friend not theirs

"You need to stay away from Y/n. She's my friend and you're a fucking loser."

[writingquestionsanswered]

hiya! for writers who are complete beginners, kinda sorta maybe write at a high school level, can't describe to save their lives, have overall bad flow (as in they can't decide what little moments scenes to think up and even write, if they do, they're no good), have been told countless times to write daily and just read more but that doesn't cover the basics or foundations of creative writing, not like they can learn from a book bc they're a hands on learner anyway and p.s they're super broke so can't afford writing classes and no library near them offers free ones ---- aka me :( --- do you have any advice? lol i feel kinda doomed and that maybe writing isn't for me, but I don't wanna get my hopes down!! with the right tools, it's possible.

Free Resources for Learning How to Write

I want to start with addressing why you've been told so often "to write daily and read more" as a way to learn how to write. It's very difficult to learn and excel at a craft if you have no experience with said craft. You can read all the information in the world about how to forge a sword, but that doesn't mean you'll be able to pick up a hunk of metal and be able to forge a beautiful sword. You need to spend a lot of time watching other people forge swords, and spend a lot of time actually practicing each step yourself if you want to get good at it. Writing works the same way. Reading lets you experience what fiction should be, writing lets you practice each step for yourself.

Fortunately, there are lots of ways to read fiction for free. You can borrow books from friends, family members, and members of your community. You can check out books and e-books from your local library if you have one. You can look for Little Free Libraries in your neighborhood. There's also a lot of legally free fiction available online. Project Gutenberg, Planet E-Book, Bartleby, Literature.org, Classic Literature, Classic Short Stories, Wattpad, Archive of Our Own, Library of Short Stories, Levar Burton Reads, and sites like Kobo, Amazon, and Audible often offer freebies of both e-books and audio books.

Other free ways to learn how to write:

1 - Follow bloggers and vloggers and authors on social media who talk about the craft of writing. Some of my favorites are: Joanna Penn/The Creative Penn, K.M. Weiland, Liselle Sambury, Abbie Emmons, Hannah Lee Kidder, Brittany Wang, Alyssa Matesic, Bethany Atazadah, Lindsay Puckett, Alexa Donne, Shaelin Writes, Ellen Brock, The Writing Gals, and Sincerely, Vee.

2 - Follow writing craft blogs here on tumblr: (some suggestions) @writingwithcolor, @howtofightwrite, @heywriters, @cripplecharacters, @lgbtqwriting, @fixyourwritinghabits, @wordsnstuff, @yourbookcouldbegayer, @lizard-is-writing

3 - Watch writing craft videos on YouTube: If there's something specific you want to learn about, say, "how to structure a scene," type it into YouTube and many different videos will pop up that walk you through how to structure a scene. Just look for one that strikes you as appealing!

4 - Look for free writing resources online: many authors (especially indie authors and writing gurus/coaches like Joanna Penn, K.M. Weiland, Bethany Atazadeh, Brittany Wang, and Abbie Emmons) offer free writing resources on their web sites or by signing up for their newsletters. Often you'll see writers participating in free online writing summits/workshops which you can sign up for and either watch the videos live or via video playback that is offered for a short period of time (like 24 hours.)

5 - Do a Google Search: believe it or not, there's not a single thing you could want to learn about writing that you can't find for free on Google. If you want to learn how to improve your grammar, go to Google, type in "tips for improving grammar" and you will get a million articles that will tell you how to do just that. Want to learn how to improve your story's flow? Google "how to improve story flow" and you'll have your answer. You can even search for free worksheets, guides, and workbooks on just about anything you want. "Free character development worksheet" brought back a ton of nice looking free worksheets. "Free worldbuilding workbook" brought up several free workbooks and worksheets to help you with worldbuilding. Everything you could want to know is out there.

And, bonus: you can always read through the posts in my WQA master list to get help with a wide variety of craft and writer-related issues.

Happy learning! ♥

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[cursedlovesstuff]

Fixing Us. Part 3.

Nat woke up later than usual, the weight of the previous night's conversation still heavy on her mind.

As she stretched out her limbs, groaning softly, she dragged herself off the couch and made her way up the stairs to the bathroom to start her morning routine.

Knocking on the bedroom door, she called out Y/N's name, but there was no response.

"Y/N?" Nat called out again, opening the door to find the neatly made bed, but Y/N was nowhere in sight. Disappointment washed over Nat as she assumed Y/N had gone out with Esther, especially since it was the weekend.

Shrugging off her disappointment, Nat proceeded with her morning routine, brushing her teeth and washing her face before reaching for her phone to text Wanda, asking if she had time to talk.

Shortly after, Wanda messaged Nat back, saying she was on her way back to the tower asking if Nat wanted to meet her there to talk.

With that, Nat grabbed her keys and made her way to the Avengers Tower.

~

At the tower, Wanda greeted Nat as she sat down at the kitchen table.

"What's up?" Wanda asked.

"I messed up, and I need some advice," Nat admitted.

"When you say that you've messed up and need advice, that makes me worry," Wanda replied, concern evident in her voice.

"It's nothing bad... well, it is bad, very bad, but not enough for you to worry," Nat assured her.

"Okay, so what is it this time? Did you get spotted by Hydra agents or punch someone in the face? Because those are things that I can't help with; you'll have to ask Tony," Wanda joked.

Tony walked into the kitchen, grabbing water. "Ask Tony what?" he chimed in.

"Nat needs advice," Wanda explained.

"Oh god, I can have my lawyer here in 15 minutes. Wanda, call Y/N to let her know that Nat is in safe hands," Tony teased.

"Tony!" Nat exclaimed.

"What?" Tony asked, looking confused.

"Why is the first thing you assume when I ask for help that I'm in some sort of legal trouble?" Nat retorted.

"Because I had to bail you out for getting into a bar fight," Tony replied nonchalantly.

"I was in the bar fight protecting you and your slick mouth, but that isn't important right now. This is serious," Nat countered.

"Right, right, sorry. So, what was the advice you needed?" Tony asked, now serious.

"I think Y/N and I are heading down the path of divorce," Nat confessed.

"You think?" Wanda asked, her brow furrowing.

"No, I know," Nat corrected.

"Okay, so what did you do wrong?" Tony inquired.

"Why do you always assume I'm the one messing up and doing something wrong?" Nat questioned.

"Because Y/N is a literal angel," Wanda interjected, and Tony added, "Just a guess. So, spill the beans. Just between us girls, what did you do wrong?"

Tony earned a side-eye from Wanda and Nat.

"Don't worry about him, continue," Wanda said, brushing off Tony's comment.

Nat sighed. "Last night, Y/N and I got into an argument outside the bar and another when we got home," she admitted. "From what I know, I've spent too much time with Maria for Y/N's liking. I'm not home enough, and at some point in the argument, I may have said something that hurt Y/N deeply."

"You did what?"

"I may have said something hurtful unintentionally. We were outside of the bar, and I asked her if she could tell if Carol was just her friend or someone who wanted to sleep with her."

"Nat—"

"I know, it was stupid. I said it without thinking, and I didn't realize how much my words hurt her last night."

"Well, this is a lot worse than I expected."

"It's not just that. I think Y/N might believe that I either cheated on her with Maria or that I am currently cheating."

"Well, are you?" Tony asked.

"No, Tony, I am not cheating on Y/N, nor do I plan on it. But she doesn't believe me."

"So let me get this straight—you and Y/N got into an argument last night because you're never home and you're always out with Maria. You said something hurtful, and now she might think that you're cheating on her?"

"Yeah, that's about right. I forgot to mention the part where if I don't fix things soon, Y/N said I could marry Maria."

"You're screwed."

"Tony, stop it."

"What do you want me to lie and say everything is going to be fine? Nat's marriage is hanging on the thinnest line I have ever seen."

"I know it's on a thin line, and I want to fix it before it's too late. I came here for your advice and opinions, not to be judged."

"Well, I've never been through this situation. I think you're a workaholic, and you're so busy that you forget that Y/N is a person too, not just someone that you just met or started dating. She's your wife, and she needs to feel loved, valued, and cherished," Wanda remarked, to which Nat nodded before turning her attention to Tony.

"How did you fix things with Pepper?"

"Well, we have had our fair share of disagreements, but I'd have to say communication. You can be mad at each other, but you can't fix the problem if you don't know what the other is mad about," Tony shared.

"I tried walking in Pepper's shoes for the day, and it wasn't easy. She manages a lot of things for me, including press conferences. She helps in the lab, and when she and Wanda are taking turns, she helps cook dinner and clean up around the entire tower," Tony continued with a sigh.

"The point I'm trying to make is, don't get so mad easily and understand things from Y/N's point of view. Try and make her day easier. If she cooks breakfast, you wash the dishes. If she washes and dries the clothes, you fold them and put them up. If she's having a bad day, go out and get her favorite snacks or comfort food. Show her that you really care. It's 50/50, not 95/5 percent. Y/N is a good one; don't lose her by being stupid. It's the bare minimum," Tony concluded.

"Where do I start?"

"You can start by taking some time off work and showing Y/N that you really care. What's something that Y/N really likes?"

"She's not really a fan of really public things that are in crowded places or expensive gifts. She likes more thoughtful gifts that took time and effort."

"Maybe you can clean up the apartment, reorganize some things."

"The apartment is always clean. Y/N doesn't even like shoes going past the carpet."

"Maybe you can make her something."

"What if I cook her dinner?"

"You want to cook?" Tony asked, surprised.

"Yes, why?"

"The last time you tried to cook, you almost set the kitchen on fire."

"I didn't know what I was doing back then, but if it makes Y/N happy, I'll do anything."

"What's Y/N's favorite food?" Tony asked.

"She likes shrimp alfredo and homemade garlic toast. That's one of her favorites," Nat replied.

"Okay, shrimp alfredo and toast. What's your plan after dinner?" Wanda inquired.

"To try and get her to talk to me and hope it doesn't turn into an argument. Maybe I can get her some of her favorite things from the store to lighten her mood," Nat explained.

"It's a good start. It's getting late; we should get to the store and make dinner before Y/N gets off work," Wanda suggested.

"Y/N has a job?" Nat asked, surprised.

"Yes, you didn't know? She said she was tired of being in the house by herself all day," Wanda revealed, making Nat reflect on how close Y/N and Wanda had become.

"Well, we should get going," Wanda said after noticing Nat's silence.

"We should head out. Thank you, Tony," Nat said, acknowledging Tony before leaving the kitchen with Wanda.

"Yeah, yeah, go fix things with Y/N before I tell Fury you're breaking her heart," Tony teased as Nat and Wanda walked out of the kitchen.

[braxiatel]

It was a well known fact across the Hermitcraft server that Bdubs was an early riser.

Another well known fact, one that was in fact a lot less factual, was that Bdubs was a silly man indeed.

All lies and slander, of course! He was well respected, held up as a shining beacon of wisdom and integrity by his peers (not that he needed to be held up, he was very tall after all).

Even so, the first thing Bdubs said upon opening his door at 4.45 AM, after being pulled away from his task of picking out the day’s flavour of herbal tea by a panicked Mumbo Jumbo had barging into his home asking for help, was as follows:

“… are you sure you’ve got the right guy for this?”

“Truth be told, my options are somewhat limited, what with it being the middle of the night-”

“The middle of the morning,” Bdubs corrected helpfully.

“- but I really do believe that out of everyone on the server you are best suited to help me with this, quiet frankly, possibly life-ending predicament I have found myself in. I need your advice, and preferably before the rest of the hermits wake up.”

Oh, but of course! Now it all made sense! Young Mumbo was in need of wisdom, so naturally he had turned to the smartest person on the server… and after finding him asleep, he had instead turned to the somethingth-best thing and gone to Bdubs.

“Naturally. And what can little, old me help you with today? Boy trouble? Money trouble? Legal trouble?” Bdubs listed.

“I wouldn’t have come to you for that,” Mumbo objected, being rather objectionable. “…Do you remember season 7?”

Before Bdubs could respond Mumbo interrupted himself:

“Stupid question, Mumbo. You were there, of course you remember it.” He pulled the cap he was wearing a little further down. “Snips. You remember snips, right? Like, how to do it.”

“Oh!” Bdubs grinned. “Of course! You’ve come to me for style advice! Well, I am renowned for just that, so I can’t blame you, especially not with how long your hair has been getting. What is it then? Thinking of getting a dye job? Or are we just doing a boring old trim?”

Then, to Bdubs’ utter horror, Mumbo removed his hat.

“Honestly, I just want to know if you can fix it.”

Fix it?! There was barely an ‘it’ to fix!

Mumbo’s previously chin-length hair has been cut unevenly and as close to the scalp as possible.

“What happened to you?” Bdubs demanded. “Did you get into an argument with a dispenser and a pair of shears? Is this a mission possible thing? ‘Give yourself the worst haircut and show Bdubs for your sick amusement’ ?”

Mumbo hastily pulled the hat on again, hiding his disastrous buzz cut from the world.

“Alright, it’s not that bad,” he protested. “Grian normally does the undercut for me but… I mean you know, all the permit stuff. New boss, new job, I didn’t think I could trust him to get it right at the moment.”

“Right. So you gave the shears to Skizz and broke his glasses instead?”

Judging by his expression, Mumbo did not seem to appreciate Bdubs’ excellent comedic skills

“I did it myself. And I did a very good job of it at first, if I do say so myself. Only then my hand slipped and suddenly I had a shaved stripe down the middle of my head. And because it was the middle of the night, no one was around to help me fix it, so I had to do that myself too,” Mumbo explained. Defeated, he continued to admit: “It’s better than it was, if you would believe it.”

Yes, Bdubs could see it now. Clumsy hands trying to even out a disastrous cut, like shoveling snow in a blizzard. He hadn’t been in this business for years, but Bdubs felt he had a duty of hair. Didn’t they make him promise to always help those in need when he qualified as a stylist? The hairpocratic oath, they had called it.

He sighed.

“Give me a moment to put the kettle on. I’ll get the trimmer out and see what I can do. After that we’ll do your brows to try to draw the eye somewhere other than your hair.”

[sylvia-plaths-fig-pie]

Silver Linings ♡ Sam Winchester

Being duty solicitor was your least favourite bit about your 'training'. You didn't need supervision for it, which made it all the more boring. If you were with Cathy (your supervisor) then maybe, maybe, you could've enjoyed it. But no, you were stuck alone waiting.

Usually a duty solicitor would wait at home for a call that an attorney-less potential criminal was brought in who needed legal rep. But unfortunately for you, you didn't have a car. And since it was 11 at night the buses had long since stopped in this rural southern state you called home.

So you were simply sitting in the police station, waiting. Where you would wait all night. You went from being a 'hot shot' Stanford law student, to a trainee solicitor abandoned at a tiny police station.

You never wanted to go into criminal law, that was never the plan. You wanted corporate law, you wanted money, but more than anything you wanted to escape. Escape the very town that you were in right now. Escape the family that you now live with.

You kept telling yourself that maybe, just maybe, when you're fully qualified you can go to the city. But with your mothers bad health and your father out of the picture, well that wasn't really an option.

So for now you waited, and waited, and waited.

At some point between 1am and 2am you must have fallen asleep as you startled when an old, and tired, police officer shook you awake.

"Got two in for you." He said gruffly, "wanted for all sorts of stuff, we caught them grave robbin', but they're wanted for theft and murder and a whole host of stuff."

You blinked at him as his words slowly sank in.

Murder? You questioned in your head. It dawned on you that you may be sitting face to face with the people who'd been killing the young women in the town. No killing was too kind a word. They were brutally murdered their hearts ripped out.

You suddenly felt very sick, but this is what you wanted. If you were to stay in criminal law it would be beneficial to represent some prolific killers, your moral compass will survive.

"Wh-" you began but his loud and obnoxious yawn cut you off.

"Where are they?" You asked once he'd finished, trying to hide your slight terror.

"I'll show you to the interview room." He said as he walked away, jingling his keys in his hand. You followed him quickly, maybe this night wouldn't be so boring after all.

Before he opened the door, you quickly pulled your hair up into a smart updo (a quick knott) with a silver hair pin. It was your lucky charm. You've never given bad advice, lost a moot trial or failed an exam when you wore it. You weren't superstitious or anything, but you had a feeling with the two offenders you were going to face, you needed all the luck you could get.

When he unlocked the door for you, you weren't prepared for what you saw.

"Here's the file on them," the police officer said as you turned your attention back to him.

"Oh, thank you," you accepted the file as he turned to go, closing the door and subsequently locking it behind.

The two men sitting in front of you were cuffed to the table, sitting on chairs quite frankly too small for them.

They both looked unfazed by the whole process, if anything they looked annoyed, not scared or worried, just pissed.

That normally would have proved to be unusual, especially in such a town where all the offenders that walked in you knew by name. But you were shocked by something else.

Maybe you were still asleep?

This couldn't be right, surely?

There, one of the men sitting in front of you, was your old law rival. The one who pushed you to be top of your class. The only other person you knew with a full scholarship. The only person you knew that dropped out when he had so much potential.

Sam Winchester.

He dropped out after a fire killed his girlfriend, Jess, a lovely girl. Everyone thought it would be just a year out, but it wasn't. Naturally rumours circulated, but that didn't change the fact that Sam Winchester dropped out and you never saw him again.

Until now.

With several murder charges, accessory to murder, theft, robbery, burglary, identity theft, fraud, and grave robbing.

You quickly looked up and down the file as you seated yourself opposite them.

"So," you began unsure what to say, "you boys are facing a lot of charges."

Dean, Sam's older brother (you learned from the file) gave a slight laugh at your remark.

"You don't say..." He remarked. He nudged Sam slightly, to get him to laugh but he didn't. Instead he stared. He just stared at you.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, almost concerned, but more amused at his silence.

"I would say it's good to see you again Sam, but I would have rather seen you on the other side of this table." You said rather bluntly, you didn't have time for small talk, you needed them to respect you and know that you're good at your job, or at least will be when you're fully qualified.

"You know this chic?" Dean asked, eyebrows raised.

"I-" Sam began but it was clear he didn't know what to say. I could read it in his eyes, I reminded him of a past, I reminded him of a future that could have been.

"We went to Stafford together," you said avoiding both brothers' eyes, "briefly," you added, "it doesn't prove to be a conflict of interest so I'm fine to represent you further should you need it."

They both simply stared at you, then gave each other a knowing look, then they turned back to you.

You couldn't read them, well you couldn't read Dean at least. Sam looked pained, like he didn't want me to be here. But there was something else. It felt like he was sorry. Sorry for what was something you couldn't quite work out.

"So," you said, "you have quite a lengthy list of suspected felonies, most of which carry life sentences. Due to the expenses of trials if you plead guilty a deal could be made, if not you're at the mercy of a jury, and if your trial is down this way then I don't fancy your chances. Of course only plead guilty if you are."

You reeled of the standard advice, truly you weren't well versed in what to do with serious charges relying on old law school knowledge.

"Any questions?" You asked.

They looked at eachother again, Dean strangely wiggling his eyebrows at Sam. In response the younger brother just rolled his eyes.

He looked similar to how he did at school. His eyes were still hazel with hints of green, his hair was still quite long and messy, he was tall even sitting down he had an imposing quality. But there were small differences. He held himself with a tension only found in old war veterans, his hair was just uncomfortably long for him, annoying him. But the biggest difference was in his eyes, the hope and joy that he once had were replaced with fear, mistrust and a hardness you'd never seen before. He was haunted.

"What are our odds like?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair, he was too relaxed. He wanted to be here, and you couldn't figure out why.

You studied him briefly before answering. "Not good." There was no point lying to them. "But with your track record I'm assuming you're planning to make it out before trial."

"No we're-" Sam began but you held up a hand to silence him.

"Attorney client privilege, I'm not ratting on you." You clarified, "but I'm assuming this won't be the last time you're caught, I can take care of any personal issues you need me to deal with, and I can give you my card with my contact info."

"You won't be a qualified solicitor yet will you?" Sam asked, looking you properly in the eyes for the first time.

"I will be in a month," you clarified, "I've already gotten a few deals through, good deals, I've gotten clients acquitted on a technicality which if I had ful access to your file outside of this police station I can try and find one in your case. If not I can always advise you on some 'hypothetical' situations you may find yourself in."

He looked at you, really looked at you, if you didn't know any better you would say he looked proud.

But you did know better. Sam Winchester was never your friend. He was barely your acquaintance. The only reason you knew him was because of a sort of academic rivalry you shared. You pushed on another to do better. Until you couldn't. He dropped out. You stayed. And your mind hadn't thought about him since.

Well, you didn't think about him often at least.

"Thank you," he said with almost a whisper.

"You know you're the best lawyer we've had," Dean began, "most act like we did all that shit and have no reason to be treated like people."

"It doesn't matter what I think, being 'guilty' doesn't mean you're morally innocent, just legally."

Dean looked at you, slightly confused by your remark.

"God, you sound like professor Williamson." Sam laughed, breaking a slightly awkward silence.

"I mean he was my fav..." you said almost shyly. To say he was your favourite was an understatement, he was basically like a father to you. He was like that with Sam as well.

When Sam left, it left a hole in Williamson's heart. A whole that you don't think was ever really filled.

"He would've been everyone's favourite if he didn't give people 1000 essays." Sam laughed, reminiscing on your shared school time.

"The essays were fun." You commented, catching the role of Dean's eyes in your peripheral vision.

"I mean yeah," he agreed, "but most people don't like essays."

"Well most people didn't get an academic scholarship." You countered.

"We were the only two." He said almost solemnly and that look of mourning what his future could have been was back on his face.

You kept your last remark inside, choosing not to open an already newly exposed wound.

When you graduated top of your class they mentioned how you were the only one of the law cohort to get a full ride. Sam, to faculty members, was a distant memory. Well he was to everyone but professor Williamson.

They gave tributes to Jess at your graduation but not Sam. It was like he never existed. Like he was never there. It hurt like hell. But what hurt even more was that no one seemed to notice. Sam was an old story, the boy whose life got flipped on its head after his girlfriend died in a freak accident.

"Not that I don’t like this trip down memory lane but..." Dean gestured towards the clock behind me. I turned, it was nearing 3am, the time all the young girls had been murdered.

As I turned back towards them, they pulled away from each other it was clear that they were whispering.

"Do you want to share with the class?" You asked, concerned at the sudden change of atmosphere with the brothers.

"How old are you?" Dean asked, rather bluntly.

You thought about giving a remark about how people should never ask a lady's age but thought better of it given the strange change in atmosphere.

"Twenty-five." You said, slightly concerned.

Sam quirked an eyebrow confused, Dean looked worried.

"I skipped two grades," you quickly explained, "why?"

"She's the same age as the others," Dean commented.

Sam nodded, slightly panicked now.

You knew they were talking about the young women being killed. And you could tell that they weren't the murderers. That being said, it begged the question, who was it?

"Are you going to tell me what relevance this has given your current situation?"

"Well-" Sam began but was cut off by a police officer opening the door.

"Miss, are you okay here?" A young-ish police officer stuck his head in the room, his eyes fixing on you. You squirmed in your seat, his eyes made you go cold.

"Excuse me, officer?" You questioned as you stood up and turned to face the police officer.

"Smith." He gave you his last name.

"Officer Smith, in case you aren't aware of correct procedure here you don't interrupt meetings with council, there are strict confidentiality rules in place. Now leave and I won't report you to your superior, open this door without my permission again and I'll see you fired." You told him bluntly. For some reason there was a lot of activity for 3 in the morning.

He lingered, eyes roaming over you, a wolfish glint in his eyes. "I was informing you that i'm the only officer on shift so if you need anything come to me." Then with a curt nod he closed the door.

When you turned back around Sam and Dean were mouthing indistinct words to one another.

"What?" You asked, worrying more and more by the second.

"We're sorry to do this," Sam said.

You looked at him confused for a moment before you realised what had happened.

The cuffs were off.

In the time you had your back to them they had managed to silently pick the locks, without you or the officer realising.

You looked Sam in the eyes, he looked genuinely sorry but strangely determined.

No.

No. No. No.

Your mind raced, they couldn't could they?

You'd been so ready to help them, so prepared to take an outlandishly bold case. And this is what happens.

"Officer Smith!" You cried as loud as you could.

"Shit, shit, shit," Dean grumbled, "not him jesus christ you'd think you'd want to die, we don't even have any silver 'round here!"

Just as you were about to start questioning things the door burst open to your relief.

Thank god there was an officer to deesculate the situation. You were so relieved. You felt lighter, you felt relief.

Relief that lasted mere seconds as when you turned to face the officer, your supposed rescuer, it wasn't who or rather what you thought it would be.

It wasn't officer Smith, although the creature that stepped out bore an uncanny resemblance to him.

His nails were now sharp, long claws, he now had fangs and eyes resemble those of a wolf rather than of a man.

Your heart dropped.

"Any bright ideas sammy?" Dean asked as he pushed you and Sam into a corner.

"Not unless you have any silver." Sam replied, it was clear his mind was racing at 100 miles an hour.

"What the hell do you need silver for?!" You questioned as you were hiding in a corner behind Sam.

"Silver kills werewolves." Sam explained, surprisingly calm.

"Werewolves?!" You exclaimed, it felt like your whole world was falling to pieces in front of you. "You're saying that he's a werewolf?!"

"Yeah, which is why we really need silver or we're all dead." You were shocked at the bluntness of his response, however you were more shocked at the fact that he knew so much about werewolves. And words didn't even begin to explain how utterly confused, shocked and down right bewildered you were that werewolves actually existed. You wouldn't have believed him if it wasn't for your impending doom.

Suddenly an idea struck you.

You looked at Sam in the eyes. "And what, you just stab it with the silver and they're dead?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah."

You heard a loud smack as Dean collided with the wall.

Just as you were about to begin talking once more, the werewolf, officer smith, made its move to where you and Sam stood.

Sam put himself between you and the creature, his arm lingering on your shoulder.

"You're not getting to her." Sam almost growled at the beast ahead.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins. You had one shot not to die.

Officer Smith just laughed and easily threw Sam aside, leaving only you in the officer's wake.

"Don't take this personally," The creature said as it stalked towards you, trapping you against the wall, his clawed hand reaching up to you.

Suddenly, you pulled the silver pin out of your hair, clutching it in your hand like a knife, "it feels pretty personal." You commented before driving the makeshift weapon into his heart.

He looked at you pained, you could see the life fading from his eyes. Then he fell. A loud thud. He was dead.

Your hands shook. What had you just done? You had killed a man. No, not a man, a werewolf.

If those are real, then what else is out there that you thought was only folklore?

"Shit." Dean commented, slightly impressed, pulling himself up from the floor, "You could have told me, Sammy, that your law school buddy was badass."

You were still frozen on the spot, staring at the officer that lay dead on your feet. The police officer that you'd killed.

"Hey," you felt Sam's hands come to rest on either side of your face, you must not have noticed him getting up, he gently turned your face so that your eyes met his. "You're okay, you saved mine and Dean's life, you saved your own life."

All you could do was nod.

"He wasn't human," he said solemnly, "he was never going to stop killing, you did the right thing even though it doesn't feel like it, you did the right thing. I'm proud of you."

You nodded again, this time a question bubbled in your throat.

"If he's a werewolf, then...?" You trailed off uncertainty.

"Do you really want to know?" Sam asked, his gaze unwavering, he knew what you wanted to ask and him holding back gave you the terrifying confirmation you needed.

"I-" you began but stopped. You needed to know. You were in this world now whether you wanted to be or not, ignorance wouldn’t save you now. "yes."

Sam took a sharp intake of breath and nodded.

"It's all real, everything that you're told is just your imagination, or just stories or folklore; all of it is real." He said with such confidence you had no choice but to believe him. "That's why I left school, I had to come back to this life."

His statement seemed to knock the air out of you. So much information was swimming in your head at once.

"It wasn't an accident with Jess then? Something killed her, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"What..."

"A demon."

The information hit you like a truck, the only thing that's keeping you sane was Sam's hands on your face. His hands that steadied you. His hands that sorted out your hair. His hands that grounded you. Him, Sam, that gave you the strength to do what was necessary.

You had to focus now. You had to sort out the mess at your feet. You needed a plan.

"Okay," you almost whispered, Sam probably wouldn't have heard you if his eyes weren't fixed on your face, your lips.

"We need to sort this out," you said, gesturing to the body on the floor and stealing yourself against the development of your night. Your volume and confidence growing. "There are no cameras here due to attorney client privileges, so the narrative is ours to shape. If you lock me in these cuffs I can be hysterical when someone comes, say you broke out and he tried to protect me but failed, you took my hair pin as a makeshift weapon and stabbed him, and then you both locked me up and ran." You nodded and the narrative came together logically and coherently, they would have no reason for you to lie given what you'd just gone through. Or allegedly went through.

"Why didn't we just kill you?" Dean asked, pointing out a key flaw in the plan.

You paused briefly thinking.

"You didn't kill me because Sam remembered me and thought to spare my life." You said quietly, "It shows some humanity, which would help if for some reason you both ever went to trial."

"Okay anything else?" Sam asked, his hands still lingering on you.

"You took your file with you as well so you know everything the police have on you and you went and collected your stuff from the storage lockers which officer smith had the keys for." You concluded hinting at them as to what their next steps are.

The pair of them just looked at you stunned, Sam's hands falling from your face.

"Yeah, good plan." Dean looked you up and down, "I'll go and grab our stuff. Sammy, sort our lawyer out."

Dean bent down and took the keys from Smith's lifeless body and began walking down the hallways, whistling as he went. This was just another day in the office to him.

"You sure you want to do this?" Sam asked, "you'll face a lot of questions, you might slip up, today's been a lot I don't want to put you through anymore."

He was worried about you. Worried that this would be pinned on you. Worried that he just threw your life off course, just like what happened to him.

"I'll be fine Sam really." You assured him, "It's you I'm more worried about, I'm assuming this constitutes as your 'day job'?"

"Yeah, it's the family business." He said gesturing sarcastically around him, "saving people, hunting things."

"Must be tough, no connections just always on the run, basically alone." You looked at him uncertainly.

He avoided his gaze as he spoke. "I've got Dean and there is a good network of hunters."

"Hunters?" You questioned.

"People like us." He clarified.

"How is there a whole side of the world I didn’t even know about?" You said almost to yourself rather than to Sam.

"Most people don't." His reassuring words didn't do much to ease your mind.

"You said there's a 'good network' that implies that quite a few people do know."

A silence fell over the pair of you, which Sam took upon himself to break in a slightly awkward manner.

"Speaking of hunters..." He trailed off.

"What?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, "Think I should switch professions?" You mellow dramatically flexed your muscles causing Sam to laugh.

"No, no," he laughed, "Don't get me wrong you'd make a brilliant hunter but I'd rather not have to worry about you getting hurt."

His words sent a warm rush through your body. He would be worried about you.

"What is it then?" You asked.

"Well, a lot get caught by cops for murder and such when they actually just saved people's lives, since you're a solicitor"

"Not yet." You lightly corrected him.

"You're almost a qualified a solicitor," he amended, giving you a poignant look, "I was wondering if...." He trailed off uncertainly.

You filled in the blanks from his silence. He wanted you to be there contact. He wants to give you an expansive country wide clientele. He wanted to give you the freedom to escape while also being able to be there for your family. He was giving you your life on a silver platter.

"Past my details on, I'd be happy to do my bit." You say, a genuine smile passing your lips.

"Great, thanks." It was his turn to smile now. "I'll pass them onto this guy called Bobby. He kinda manages a lot of people in a way, everyone goes to him for advice and such, he'll get your contact information distributed." He explained rather quickly, almost awkward and self conscious in his cadence.

"Yeah, thanks."

"Thank you."

A silence fell over you both.

"I suppose I'd better erm..." Sam used his head to gesture to the cuffs of the table.

"Oh yeah," you laughed slightly, blush creeping up your neck, this whole situation was quite absurd.

The pair of you walked over to the table and you sat down. Somehow it now felt awkward between the two of you.

He gently placed your hands in the cuffs and tightened them. Then secured the cuffs so that you couldn't move. "You might be here a few hours I don't know when another officer will arrive I'm really sorry-"

You cut him off by grabbing his hand with your cuffed one. "Don't worry, I'll be fine." You reassured him, not quite ready to let go of his hand quite yet.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, "I'll call you as soon as I can so that way you have my number, okay?"

It was clear that neither of you wanted to leave this moment in the past, but with time being of the essence in Sam's case you both knew he couldn't stay here much longer.

"Okay." You confirmed with a nod of your head.

You both stilled. Hands still intertwined.

"Right well I... I'd better go." Sam said unconvincingly, lingering with his hand in yours for just a few more stolen seconds before he pulled away and walked towards the exit.

"Sam?" You said his name like a question, a prayer. You didn't want him to go. To leave you alone. You were scared. Or at least you knew you would be. With Sam here you felt safe, you felt a warmth around you. You didn't want to lose that, not just yet.

Sam wasted no time turning around when you called his name, waiting for you to speak again.

"Don't disappear from my life again."

A smile crept up his face that he tried to hide. It was his turn for his cheeks to turn a light shade of pink.

"Don't worry, I have no intentions of doing that." He walked back towards you, and held your hands again, "I promise."

His eyes were trained on yours, his beautiful eyes. They roamed your face for a moment, as if trying to commit every detail of you into memory. Then they lingered on your lips.

You felt your breath hitch as he leaned closer to you. His eyes quickly looked into yours for a split second as if to ask 'is this okay?' All you could do in response was nod.

And that's all he needed. You felt your eyes flutter shut as his lips gently and tentatively pressed against your own.

You felt yourself falling, more and more and more.

He pulled away all too soon. "I promise to call," he said as he pressed another quick kiss to your lips, it lasted only a split second but it was enough to send your head spinning once more.

As he made his way to the door he turned and gave you one final look before he disappeared from view.

The warmth that you felt lingered as you pressed your cuffed hands to your lips. Sam Winchester had just kissed you, twice. The very Sam Winchester who's currently wanted. At this moment you should have been thinking about the disastrous consequences of being caught, or the devastating news that monsters were actually real. However, all you could think about was his lips on yours and his promise that he would call. His promise that you knew he'd never break.

Who knew this night wouldn't turn out to be so boring after all? Maybe there was a silver lining being a duty solicitor.

♡♡♡

A/n: I started off using brittish law then, I just made it fit to the plot lmao, but one things for sure it's definitely not correct in terms of us law but it's fine...

Wc: 4.8k

[eimids]

Game day shenanigans

Lionesses x reader

Part 3 of the mini series about lionesses

(Let’s just imagine that Leah is playing again)

warnings: Vomiting, blood, angry Lucy

The game had went relatively well till the half time. It was aggressive and the Italians were really throwing some tackles in. It was all good though because you were on the lead. You’d already scored 3 goals while they had only one. It was you, Lessi and McCabe who had scored.

The Italians were especially rough on you. Sliding tackles every time they could. Lucy did not appreciate that at all. You were skilled and got good chances but they were ruined by the opponent. Most of the tackles were on the thin line of legal and illegal. Still usually they were ruled as legal. It pained you to be so much on the ground with the opponents getting away with it.

During half time Lucy suggested that you should be subbed off because they were clearly targeting you. Like you had an X in your back.

“I’m not going to be subbed just because they tackle me. I can handle it Lucia!” You said a little annoyed. Just like she had not trusted your skills.

“I think y/n can handle it for now. If they keep getting more reckless with the tackles, you will be subbed off” Sarina said as the last decision.

You took a sip from your water bottle as you tried to calm yourself. You went to Lauren James to get away from people (Lucy) who annoyed you.

You chatted for a while before your skipper Leah gave you a pep talk before going to the second half. You walked back to the pitch through the tunnel and warmed up a bit. When the whistle was blown you quickly got the ball to you. Running with it as you got closer to the penalty box. When you got inside of it, you were quickly tackled. Someone sliding straight towards your legs which had you tumbling to the ground. Your head got collided with someones boot.

First thing you saw was blood on the hand. The next was Lucy coming running towards you and the two opponents who caused this. She was yelling at them. Next came Leah with the big hand chestures. They had some pushing and pulling before the referee intervened. Giving a yellow card to the woman who tackled you.

“Fuck off” You heard Lucy yell.

Lucy still wasn’t happy about it and kept mouthing the referee and opponents which got her a yellow card. Leah kept talking to the referee, more calmly than the older woman.

You on the other hand had been surrounded by your teammates. They were motioning for a medic to get over to check you out. You felt dizzy and Georgia was hovering over you to shee if you were okay. You didn’t really know what happened, all you knew is that you were bleeding and in pain.

You could walk off the pitch by yourself which led to the crowd to applause for you. When you got to the medical room you could feel something turning in your stomach and quickly your that days food was on the bin next to you. You knew after vomiting that it was a concussion. The medical staff gave you some pain meds and sent a message to Sarina that you wouldn’t be able to continue.

The medical staff started to clean the cut on your forehead and then stitched it up.

“It’s going to leave you a little scar but nothing major. But you do have a pretty bad concussion which means that someone is going to have to look after you for couple of days. We’ll give the person some advice when you know who’s looking after you” The woman said to you after stitching you up and examining you.

After that you were allowed to leave the medical room to the changing room to get some more clothes off so you could watch the rest of the game.

To your surprise, Lucy was sitting in the changing room.

“What are you doing here?” You asked her confused.

“That stupid referee gave me a red card” She said sounding angry. You just started at her angrily.

“Lucia what did you do” You asked sternly.

“Well the woman who tackled you kept laughing about it so I just showed her hoe to tackle properly” She answered casually with a smirk on her face.

“Well I believe if you got carded it wasn’t exactly a legal tackle?”

“I was clean but the referee has something against us” She answered rolling her eyes.

“God your so stupid” you said while sitting next to her.

“I wasn’t going to let them hurting you just slide. I had to do something” She said defensively.

“Yeah but getting a red card isn’t the way. You are like Katie McCard” You joked.

Later on you would see the video of Lucy tackling the girl. It was not clean tackel, you knew it and she knew it. But for that you invited yourself to her house so she (and Kiera) would have to look after you.

—

[deesseshesca]

PAC 18+: How can you spice up your sex life with your s/o?

Now let's bring it up a notch...

Good evening, pretty souls, today I'm diving under the cover of y'all relationship to keep up with your panties/boxer.

FLASH SALE

For the next 2 weeks all readings on my ko-fi is 20$, only 

Rules and Disclaimer 

I am the type of tarot reader to say as it is. Nothing is sugar coated but everything is sent with good intention. If you are not ready to face some truth, you should vagabond somewhere else. 

MINOR DON'T INTERACT WITH THIS POST 

MINOR DON’T READ THIS POST 

TW: Sexual abuse, DV

Basing myself on the legal age in my country which is 18 

PILE 1 

4 wands, 5 swords, 3 swords, 9 swords, ‘’I’m going through a lot right now, I need some space & time to gather my thoughts !’’ 

Mutual masturbation 

Edging 

Overstimulation

💌 Your partner don't feel appreciated enough in the bedroom. They feel like u are comparing them to your past lovers. If not, they feel like they don't compare. On your side you are tired of their toxic behavior. They are not toxic is just that they are stuck in bad habits. Which is stopping y'all from evolving as a couple. You are not satisfy emotionally, they are not satisfy physically. Anyway Pile 1, if you need any advice on how to deal with situation, you can always book a reading on my Ko-fi, link down below. Especially now that they are on sales for only 20$. (Link at the end of the post)

Much love, Shesca

PILE 2 

2 pentacles, 2 swords, 4 wands, 5 wands, ‘’I look at my phone everyday hoping I would see a message from you’’ 

Cuddlefuck 

No foreplay 

Voyeurism  

Femdom 

💌I think your partner is usually the one in control. Y'all usually have some hardcore sex or even BDSM. There's a clear difference between a sub and dom energy down to even the look. One of y'all is real petite. You are probably part of the itty bitty community or you dick may be on the smaller side. Y'all are very delicate and graceful being. While he is all tall and buff or she is very curvy and way taller than u. If you initiate with a bratty attitude instead of being your docile self, is going to fire up the spark between y'all. Are y'all going camping trip or on a trip abroad with friend ? You should run your hand up and down his dick while y'all look at a movie in the living room, if they are a women, maybe play with their tits. Or when y'all back in the tent, you should initiate something knowing damm well is hella risky. It's going to excited them and finally give them a reason to do all the punishments they dream to apply on u. Since u been a good girl/boy (is not me...is them ), they only fantasy is about punishing you. Anyway if you guys need any advice how to make it happen, you can always book a reading on my Ko-fi, especially now that's only 20$ (Link at the end of the post)

Much love, Shesca

PILE 3 

Judgment, 5 swords, Page wands, 8 cups 

Check in : Babes, I'm sorry for the fuck up things you been through. You guys have a lot of sexual trauma. You spend your whole in poverty until you made the decision to become an escort or stripper. Which only added to the trauma. Some of y'all been in abusive relationship or all you life you felt like the only way someone will stay with you would be for sex. So you felt obligated to give some. But now you are in healthy relationship. The life you have now is a complete 360 of your past. Stay at home wife in the sunburn, spending most of your weekend supporting your kids hobbies. Nobody would even the guess how hard it was for you to get this peaceful life.

Dirty talk 

Nudist Event 

Power play 

💌 Now girl/boy... what's going ? Why are only serving same old missionary with the men/women you love. I can feel how deeply you love them. So you are completely comfortable around them. Yet no split on dick or feasting on the clit. No crazy lingerie. No lap dancing. No nothing. I don't know much about life but I think when u are married you can defiantly match the freak. Talk nasty to him/her, giving him/her a VIP experience and they will go crazy. Send them nasty pic, girl/boy you have all the power to spice things up. Anyway Pile 3, if you need help on tapping back into your sexual self in more healthy manner, you can always book a reading on my Ko-fi for only 20$.(Link at the end of the post)

Much love, Shesca.

7 wands, Page cups, 9 wands, 7 cups,’’Karmic partner interference’’, ‘’I’m ready to come clean ! I can’t lose you again !’’ 

Food 

Jealousy/possessiveness

Communication 

💌 You are married to someone you don't know anymore. If you know One tree hill (the best TV show in the word), y'all make me think of Quinn and her relationship with her ex-husband David. They were a time, the person on your side was loving and emotionally available. Now he is crazy about profit and barely spend time in the same room as you. Than there's him/her. They know they can treat u better than your husband/wife and is pissing them off the way things are . They dream of licking wiped cream of your nipple, ever since they saw in that sundress at the pool party or when you do your daily run with no shirt on. Anyways Pile 4, I know you are going to figure it all out but if you want insight from your spiritual team regarding this whole mess, you always book a ready on my Ko-fi. Especially now, they are only 20$. (Link at the end of the post)

Much love, Shesca.

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (1/?)

Summary: Sequel to In Flames I Sleep Soundly; After the divorce, Wanda refuses to give you up. 

Chapter word count: 5k+

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Masturbation

Author’s Note: So... this AU wouldn’t leave me. For my new readers, you don’t have to read the first installment . This can be read as a standalone. Title is based on lyrics of “This Love” by Taylor Swift

AO3 | Masterlist

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta​

Next Chapter: Two

One

It’s not a god damn funeral, Wanda thinks as she stares at her black outfit.

With a huff, she makes the quick decision to reach for the zipper near the curve of where her spine becomes her head, and then pulls it down so hastily it gets out of track and refuses to budge further than her waist.

Shit, Wanda curses under her breath, wiggling her arms from its sleeves, which isn’t exactly difficult given her recent weight loss. At first she tries to shimmy her body out of the dress, but she only succeeds in getting stuck further and sweating under her pits. Unfortunately the weight loss didn’t happen around her middle, and she also couldn’t get it to move upwards and over her head. The options are to either fix the zipper or destroy the dress. Wanda picks the latter.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, she starts to frantically cut through the silky material. Her heart races as she terrorizes the dress with fervor–grunting Sokovian words she’s surprised she still remembers–until the dress pools at her feet in tatters. Wanda feels her energy depleted after, and she crawls on the bed to lie face down, on her stomach. 

To some degree, her recent outbursts are gradually becoming a concern, especially since she’s back in her old Manhattan neighborhood. The smallest, most insignificant things tick her off, and a densely populated city like New York is filled with them.

Like last week, when she was shopping at Trader Joe’s, and someone kept hitting her backside with their cart while waiting at the counter. 

“I swear to god, if you don’t lay the fuck off–” Wanda’s ears burned when she looked over her shoulder and saw a frail, old woman who looked like she didn't have many years left in her. 

“I’m sorry.” Wanda croaked out and then pressed her lips in a straight hard line. 

“Oh, it’s alright. We all have bad days. But sweetheart,” The old woman warmly smiled at her and then leaned closer as if to share a secret. “You need to get laid.” She added like she’s giving some age-old, archaic advice. 

Wanda’s smile in return was pasty, and she hurried to remove almost half of the stuff(not without receiving a dirty look from an employee who had to put them all back) in her basket so she could leave the counter as soon as possible. 

The mysterious universe had a dark sense of humor. It was sex that brought her to this manic-depressive, freak-out-at-a-grocery-store behavior, and to be told by a stranger that she needed more of it was just the icing on top of this tremendous fuckery of a year she’s had. 

Wanda turns on her back and closes her eyes for a minute. She doesn’t even know why she’s wasted an hour of choosing what to wear for the day she gets legally separated from you. And yet she couldn’t help but give an extra effort to look good for you. All she knows is the days she gets to see you are rare. She can count on one hand the times you’ve met since that fateful lunch at the diner back in Westview. She needs to look her best in these opportunities. 

She needs to look her best, and hopes you’d notice.

Glancing back at her wide-open wardrobe, that’s when she spots it. Hiding in the furthermost end of her rack, is a decade-old sundress she’s kept all this time. 

The memory rises unbidden to her mind, before she could stop it. 

It was the dress she wore on her first date with you. She recalls picking it specifically because it’s green. She wanted it to match her eyes–your favorite part of her body. It made you gape. It made you go almost stupid with want, forgetting the way to the restaurant where you made reservations because you wouldn’t stop staring at her. 

By the end of that night though, the dress was lost somewhere along the trip from the door to the bedroom.

“Aren’t we moving too fast?” You whispered against her swollen lips, breaking the kiss while your hands roamed all over her shaking frame. Wanda merely moaned and put her lips to your neck, kissing every inch of available skin to her. 

You’ve known each other for years. It didn’t feel like you were moving too fast. Rather, it was a culmination of sorts–seemingly platonic hugs that lasted just a tad longer than they should, the way your eyes always found each other in a crowded room, kisses on the cheek that came too close to the mouth. And not to mention, the other people you’ve both dated in those times of being more than friends but less than lovers. 

The pace was actually agonizingly slow. A slow burn that had put all other slow burns to shame.

You directed Wanda back to your mouth and the kiss that ignited again is its own kind of sex. God, she never really understood the fuzz about making out because her sexual experiences in the past didn’t really pay much attention to foreplay. For a while, she was simply content with the sliding of lips and tongues. But then you dropped to the floor and began pulling down her soaked thong, while your dilated eyes never left hers.

Wanda’s breath hitched at seeing you fall to your knees and gaze at her with incomparable reverence. How could you worship her when you yourself were so achingly beautiful?

She needed you to touch her soon or she’d go crazy. “Please.”

Her panties only made it past one ankle before you dove in to taste her for the first time. 

Wanda of the present comes at the ghost sensation of your tongue against her throbbing clit. In truth, it’s just her fingers that brought her to climax while she kneels at the center of her bed, her ruined underwear down past her thighs. She bucks her hips a couple of more times before falling back to the mattress, spent. 

That old lady was right. An orgasm does help.

-

The divorce is final. 

Today, she signed away any legal right she has as your partner. As for everyone else in the meeting room, it’s just another ordinary day to dissolve a marriage.

Wanda’s wearing the sundress that sort of accidentally gave her release this morning. You keep looking at her, no wonder trying to figure out why the dress looks so familiar. And Wanda can’t look at you straight in the eye without blushing. 

You came in with your ever reliable back-up: Natasha. Now that you’re no longer married to her, Wanda’s insecurities about the true nature of your relationship with Natasha has come up to the surface. The way Natasha would pat your back and ask you if you’re alright. The way she’d ask you if you’d like something to drink. The way she also knows you take your coffee black with three teaspoons of brown sugar.

The way she’s just always there. 

It annoys her enough that you said Natasha was your person, because then what was she to you? The title of soulmate triumphs over wife, and Wanda wants to be both. She wants all the titles. 

Well, maybe not all. She definitely doesn’t want to be called your ex-wife. But she’ll accept the reality for your sake. She wasn’t lying when she’d said she’ll give you everything you want, even if it puts her on the sidelines.

“Hey, do you want to get coffee?” Wanda breaks the spell of silence that lasted some five minutes when your lawyers and Natasha left the room to give you two a moment. 

She immediately wants to take back her words when you look at her  incredulously like she had grown another head on her lithe, sagged shoulders. 

“Seriously?” you say, and spitefully chuckle. 

Wanda says nothing, just resorts to quietly admiring you in a skirt suit she’s never seen you wear before. In the short time you’ve both been separated, she’s noticed little changes of yours that makes her homesick for you. You will wear new clothes and shoes, get a new haircut, try a new hobby, walk a certain way, and then all these changes will pile up until you become this inconceivable stranger. Still beautiful–but a stranger nonetheless. She knows the consequences of her actions are harder on you, but maybe, just maybe, it’s equally hard for her too. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” you sigh, despondent. “Maybe for you it’s not, but today is the worst day of my life, Wanda. Or second. Or third. I don’t know. There’s so many of them recently, but this is definitely in the top three. I just want to be alone.” 

Wanda will never get used to the way you’re now just either angry or tired of dealing with her. She’s afraid to reassess the odds of getting you back and finding out it’s worse than zero. 

“Right,” Wanda says, looking down at her feet. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

You hum in response.

“It is, you know?” Wanda says.

You shoot her a quizzical look. 

“It’s hard for me too,” Wanda clarifies. “I spent all morning picking out what to wear and getting all dolled-up, in desperate hopes you’d–you’d change your mind at the last minute.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel bad, or–”

“No,” Wanda cuts in in panic. Somehow she keeps saying the wrong things. “It’s hard for me. Because it’s the end for our marriage when all I want is to be with you right now.”

You avert your gaze and nod solemnly at her as if you understood. 

Do you?

Do you, perhaps, feel the same way? Or is she the only one still in love?

“I’m sorry for being a jerk,” you say, eyes downcast still refusing to meet her eyes. “I know it’s unfair for me to act like I’m the only one who’s hurting. I just–I’m tired of being angry and sad and lost all the time. And it doesn’t exactly help when you’re around. For once, I want to feel something else and I need to be alone to figure it out.”

I want to move on from you, is what Wanda thinks you really want to say and her eyes well up. This time, she prays you don’t glance her way. She might just break down right in front of you if you do. She’s never known this kind of desolation. And she only has herself to blame. 

For once, she’s thankful for Natasha’s presence when she interrupts the moment, asking if you’re ready to leave.

“I am.” you tell Natasha. You get up and round the long table to approach Wanda. She could no longer stop the tears from falling when she felt you place your hand softly on her shoulder. The touch is so featherlight, it may as well just be her imagination. 

“Thank you for giving me the best years of my life. Goodbye, Wanda.”

The pain that racks her entire body causes her to visibly shake. She has no idea how she’s still alive at this point. Not for the first time, she desperately wishes for a do-over. But the clock only moves forward, and it’s still moving to take you away. 

Maybe time will also be the one to bring you back someday.

-

Two Months Later

Wanda hasn’t seen you since the divorce. Not once. Nor has she heard from you at all. While you didn’t downright reject her when she had told you that she’d try to get you back, her unanswered texts and unreturned calls should be more than enough to tell her otherwise. 

Her only consolation is that you haven’t blocked her number yet. A few days after she last saw you, she texted to remind you to pick up the last of your things she has in possession. Natasha showed up at her door the very next morning, which confirms you still get her texts. The items are inconsequential in nature, but Wanda had the hardest time putting them in a box. 

She spent an unnecessary amount of time arranging your hardbound books alphabetically (“It’s just not the same, but a Kindle user would never understand.” you’d explain to her whenever you’d shop for more) and cleaning each protector of your small collection of Funko toys (“A dozen more of those and you won’t have space left in your side of the cabinet. What does that leave you with?” Wanda would reprimand you after seeing a shopping bag full of them in the trunk of the car. “Happiness.” you’d reply with a sheepish grin).

She smiled contritely after she had sealed the package; how ironic that she terribly missed the things about you she’s the least fond of. It’s as if the grieving doesn’t have an end. And if she had known you’d send Natasha to retrieve them, she wouldn’t have given them away. She wanted to keep them–wants to keep more of you as much as possible. Wanda wouldn’t call herself a masochist though. Not really. 

Because it’s not over yet. It will take as long as it needs to, and it won’t matter. Patience is her utmost virtue. 

And Wanda believes you feel the same, because there are midnights where her phone would ring from an unknown number. She’d answer and listen to shaky, shallow breaths for a minute before the person on the other line ends the call. It couldn’t be anyone else but you, could it? These moments are always hazy, however, muddled by wine and prescription pills. But Wanda swears they happen. 

The days aren’t so bleak when she pretends she’s still your wife, and you’re just in some faraway place–like a soldier that has gone to war, she’s left to count the days until she’s in your arms again. She goes about her routine as she’s always done when the two of you were still together; go for a run in the mornings, have eggs and toast for breakfast, and then walk Sparky in the afternoon. Her evenings, excruciating and long, are the loneliest hours. Sleep won’t come easy to her, if it comes at all. Her heart mostly breaks as well for Sparky, who still waits by the door around the time you used to arrive home from work. He’d patiently wait there until Wanda would call for him, or fall asleep in the exact same spot. And it’s not like she can talk to him and explain why you won’t come home. All Wanda can do is wait for Sparky to forget this learned behavior or forget you.

So, for the past two months, she’s been taking it one day at a time. It’s now the only way she knows how to survive. It’s working so far, she muses, as she stands before the proof of it while carrying Sparky under her arm, right in the middle of a quiet street in Queens. 

Wanda had loaned the capital for the business right after the divorce papers were signed, and when she got the alimony from it, it was more than enough to pay back the loan in full and still for some change.

She wanted to create something out of what she had destroyed. 

And that’s how the borough’s first Sokovian café came to be. Or at least will come to be when the renovations are finally completed. She can’t see much through the scaffolding that is still in place, but she can make out what it would look like once it’s officially open to the public.

Her contractor and fellow Sokovian migrant, Mr. Jacobs spots her from where he is installing the signage. “Ms. Maximoff!”

Wanda smiles up at him, brushing her bangs away from her sight. The haircut is recent and she kind of regrets it. “Is everything okay around here?”

“I believe so. There’s still some electrical stuff to finish, but I’m confident we’ll be done before your opening.” he tells Wanda.

Sparky starts squirming against Wanda’s hold. “Is it okay to come inside or should I come back another day?” Wanda asks.

“Of course. I had my boys clear out the area and install the A/C last night, so you should be comfortable.”

Perfect. She’s yet to test out the oven she ordered, and there are some new recipes she’d like to try. 

“And Ms. Maximoff?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t worry, this place is going to do great. They’re gonna love you and our culture.”

A feeling of warmth spreads through Wanda’s chest. “Thank you, Mr. Jacobs.” He gives her a salute before going back to work.

Wanda’s not ready for the emotion that consumes her when she steps inside her new café. She puts Sparky down on the hardwood flooring, and his nose immediately gets to work, sniffing every corner of the room he could find–which isn’t all that long to cover for a regular-sized Jack Russell Terrier like him. The rented space is relatively small, so Wanda had to be smart with its interior design; a long bench stretches from the open kitchen and counter to about two feet from the entrance, spanning two round dining tables that could sit two people at a time; by the window wall facing the street, is a high top table with two chairs. At most, three staff(including her) could fit in the open kitchen, along with a single espresso machine and a wall oven. All in all, the café can accommodate about six customers dining in at a time, which is why she’s hoping she’d do better with take-outs. 

Wanda did all the decorations herself, top to bottom. The floral ceilings are a combination of autumn colors–your favorite season–and pendant lights subtly drop from them to emit a faint, yellow glow. The polished concrete wall of the dining area gives it an industrial vibe, while red brick tiles clad the panels of the kitchen area. For the finishing touches, Wanda decided to place a variety of potted plants in every corner of the room. 

Standing at the center of it all, Wanda feels a sense of pride and fulfillment–something that seemed implausible to her just a few months before.

"Best coffee in the world. Maybe you should start a café business." You’d joke sometimes whenever she makes you coffee in the morning.

A shadow passes over her eyes as she looks out the window. Needless to say, there’s only one thing missing in it. The person she wants next to her when all her dreams come true.

You.

–

Pietro finishes a whole batch of white chocolate macadamia cookies by himself. Wanda’s twin brother flew in last weekend, a rare occurrence since she only sees him once a year at most. He’d be home in the holidays for dinner, and be gone the following day. He lives with a suitcase, and never stays in a city for longer than two weeks. Wanda wasn’t expecting he’d visit her after she broke the news of her divorce, knowing he had gone through the same ordeal twice already without fuss. Apparently, it’s a run-of-the-mill life event for her brother, and it almost did not make it to their bimonthly check-in calls. 

“You’re gonna have to pay me for those.” Wanda tells him. She’s crouched on the floor, feeding Sparky strips of dried meat as she takes a break between baking and practicing her Youtube-acquired skill of Latte Art.

“I thought it’s a welcome home gift.” Pietro says, licking off the crumbs from his fingers. With the bleach in his hair extending to his medium stubbles, their resemblance is close to nonexistent. 

“You earn ten times more than I do in a year.”

“So? What is family for if not free food?”

“It’s $52 dollars.” Wanda says.

Pietro hands her a hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”

Wanda smirks at him, pocketing the money in her apron. “I intended to.” She passes him a napkin, and gestures at his chin. He waves her off in a pompous manner, and instead, goes to the back of the shop to clean himself up. She didn’t think it’s possible to both know and not know someone at the same time. To look at them and see who they are versus who you think they’re supposed to be. In terms of money and status, he is miles ahead of Wanda, but perhaps at the cost of being unable to find the brother she shared her childhood with in Sokovia. Wanda’s not sure if he still exists beneath the layers of branded suits and expensive perfumes, she just knows she misses him terribly. 

“Second Chances,” Pietro proclaims as he returns a minute later, waving his hands wildly with an imitation of a fanfare. “A little corny if you ask me.”

“Well, I’m not asking you,” Wanda contends and then proceeds to scrub the empty tray that Pietro left in the wake of his cookie binge. “It’s a good name. People can interpret it however they want.”

“And you? What was on your mind when you came up with it?”

Wanda doesn’t answer that. 

“So,” Pietro jumps into a sitting position on the counter and lets his legs dangle from its edge. 

“How’s the quarter-life crisis, sis?”

Wanda cocks an eyebrow and gives him a once over. “Better than yours. All things considered.” 

Sparky comes up to him and stands on his hind legs to snuffle at his shiny loafers. 

“Touché,” Pietro laughs good-naturedly and crosses his legs to avoid the dog’s attention. “It’s weird though, seeing you get into this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks.

“You’re not a salesperson, Wands. Remember your girl scout days? Dad would buy all your cookies because you can’t sell for shit.”

Wanda snorts noisily through her nose. “Mom can’t bake for shit.” She notices the smile fall from his lips at the offhand jab at her brother’s favored parent. 

Wanda sighs. When she does get glimpses of the old Pietro, it’s mostly through negative triggers. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–” Wanda starts to apologize but Pietro quickly changes the subject without a preamble.

“You’re really not going to talk about it?” 

“About what?”

“Playing dumb isn’t a good look on you.”

Wanda suddenly drops the tray on the sink, the violent sound of metal hitting metal giving both of them a minor headache. She pauses to think, and then says, “How about you just ask me straight instead of skirting around the topic of she-who-must-not-be-named?”

“Okay,” Pietro says in an annoyingly placid tone. “What were you thinking, cheating on Y/N?”

Wanda swallows dryly. She did ask him to be blunt.

“I wasn’t. There’s… I don’t know how to explain it. There’s this missing gap, and I acted to fill that gap.” 

“Was it something that’s missing in your relationship?” Pietro asks and props his cheek on his palm. The question is so familiar to her because she’s asked it herself countless times, the day she kissed Vision for the first time. There wasn’t an epiphany nor were there pieces falling into place when she had slept with him. And when she thought she loved him, it wasn’t because she thought she loved you any less. She came to the conclusion, not too long ago, that perhaps there’s just something rotten inside of her that she simply wasn’t aware of. 

Wanda shakes her head, weary at making sense of herself and her decision to risk everything she’s built with you for something as cheap as a fling. “None of this was her fault. Her only mistake was falling for someone who’s way beneath her.”

“I always thought she’s too good for you, no offense.”

Wanda’s smile is brittle as she recalls how Pietro’s toast at the wedding started with that exact sentence, word-for-word. You had squeezed Wanda’s clammy hand as you listened to Pietro rant about Wanda, and jokingly express his regret that you married the lesser twin. Wanda apologized for his tactlessness, and you responded with a kiss to her cheek, telling her how wrong he was, how you were only good and she made you better. 

“I’m sorry, Wands,” Pietro tells her earnestly. “I can’t say I’ve been through the same thing even with two divorces under my belt. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love with someone the way you both were with each other–or at least, the way she was in love with you.”

“Thanks, but that's not necessary. I’m going to fix it.” she says. 

It stings–the implication that Wanda was incapable of matching your love for her. But it only stings because it’s the truth. You deserve to be happy and she failed.  And yet, she also can’t survive the thought of you getting the happiness you deserve from someone else. After all this time, her selfishness hasn’t been tamed. 

Which is why Pietro’s next words hit her right in the gut. “Divorce can’t be fixed. Hell, it’s the only resolution for a terminal relationship. And hasn’t it crossed your mind that perhaps, she’s already met someone else?”

Wanda gives up on her search for the rolling pin. She cracks some eggs in a bowl and starts to furiously whisk by hand.

Maybe she’s an awful person for assuming you won’t be able to move on from her that easily. 

But that’s just how she sees it. 

“No.” she says.

“What makes you so sure?”

“I know her, Piet.”

Pietro starts clapping in slow, steady beats. “She divorces you and you’re still so smug about how she’s so crazy about you.” he says. 

“If you’ve ever felt loved by someone like her, you’d understand.”

Pietro ignores his sister’s underhanded attempt to hurt him back. He came to terms with the reality ages ago, that he’s probably not one of the lucky ones who will get to experience the kind love that Wanda boasts about with you. Maybe he had it once, not necessarily in a romantic sense. But when he thinks of love–real love–he thinks of no one but their estranged mother. 

“Or maybe,” He jumps off the counter to retrieve his coat hanging from one of the dining chairs.  “Love goes away eventually.”

“Not ours.”

Pietro couldn’t help the maniac laughter that escapes his throat. “Are you hearing yourself right now? Do you know how pathetic you sound?”

Wanda purses her lips, continues whisking. 

“Okay, how about this. If you really love her, then you’d at least want her to be happy, even if it’s not with you.” Pietro tries to reason. 

“Oh, so you’re suddenly an expert on the topic.”

“I’m a dick, not an asshole. And yes, there’s a difference.”

Wanda keeps working the whisk like a madwoman. Large amounts of bubbles are forming in the emulsion, and overbeating the egg mixture is definitely not in the recipe.

Pietro continues, “Yeah, I’m a cheater, same as you are–”

“Don’t you dare–” Wanda suddenly tosses the whisk on the worktop, a glint of something dangerous in her green eyes. 

“Let me finish,” Pietro appeases lightly. “I’m a cheater. I cheated on my ex-wives. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t see myself as some anti-hero who has the potential to be an actual hero and become the person they deserve to be with. Because I’ll never be that guy.”

“We’re not the same. We share a birthday, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“We share the same DNA, Wanda,” Pietro smiles through his frustration. Excessive stubbornness–another quality innate to Maximoffs. “But that’s not the point. You know she’d be better off without you. As cliché as it sounds, the only way you can actually show her you love her is by letting her go–completely.”

The shuddering sigh that escapes her is immediately followed by erratic sobs that go out of control fast. Pietro is right there in an instant, an arm thrown over her shoulder as her whole body jerks, rasping for air. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.” he murmurs into her crown. “You’ll be okay, Wands. I promise…you’ll be okay.”

“Will you be okay if I leave you here? I have to meet someone in a few.” 

Wanda heard you say in earnest. She lost herself for a while, stunned by the kindest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. The day flew by so quickly in your company, she hadn’t realized it was time to go. And to think that she almost skipped freshman orientation because going to New York University wasn’t exactly the plan. Columbia was–where her boyfriend was a junior. 

Her boyfriend, who she forgot texted her an hour ago asking if she was ready to go, and hadn’t heard back from her.

“Y-Yeah, my boyfriend is on the way to pick me up.” she mumbled, distracted by the glow of the sunset forming a halo around your head. You were beautiful in a way that was not entirely evident at first. Wanda was curious if anybody else had made the same discovery.

“It was nice meeting you, Wanda.”

“Likewise, Y/N.” she smiled like she’d been doing all day with you, and so frequently, that the muscles on her face were beginning to hurt a little. 

The smile you returned her way was glorious, but in a flash you were already walking away. Wanda couldn’t describe the way she fervently despised watching you go, especially without your number on her phone and no means to contact you in the future.  

“Y/N?” Wanda called out. Her heart seemed to swell and swing against her rib cage. 

“Yes?”

“Do you, maybe, want to hang out sometime?”

And the kindest eyes that ever looked at her gave the answer. 

Pietro leaves shortly after the tremors subside and her breathing returns to normal. The panic attacks aren’t that frequent, but she does get them now from time-to-time. They started right after the night you gave Wanda your wedding ring. 

With her brother gone, Wanda is left to wonder if you’ve met someone. She is left to wonder if you’re no longer miserable like she is, if you’ve taken considerable strides in moving on with your life. She tries calling you. Not to talk, but just to check if you still haven’t blocked her number. After several rings, you don’t pick up as expected. Not a setback. Not a progress either. She pretends you’re asleep or in the shower. She pretends you mean to call her back, but forgets to. 

And if a confirmation of not being blocked is all she gets, she’ll take it.

She’ll take what you can give even if it’s nothing.

[sourapplesauces]

Hey!!!! You should uhhh infodump about your FNAF AU, that would be really cool. If you want. Especially stuff about Vanessa maybe, she's my girl

Hi! Thanks for the ask! I always wanted to infodump abt this but I never found an outlet!!  

Gregory Alavarez

12 years old  

Argentinian  

Vanessa offered to get him a haircut, but he preferred the messy shaggy hair 

Has amnesia about his past life; he doesn’t remember his parents 

Vanessa caught him trying to pierce his own ears, later she took him to a proper piercer. 

When asked why he got the piercing, he said it was to match Freddy 

Has a tough bad-boy exterior, but he's softer when in Cassie, Vanessa and Freddy’s company 

Has like really good grades, he's a smart kid. 

Has a lot of sleepovers with Cassie where they just chill playing video games and doing each other's makeup and nails 

He also likes drawing and programming 

He gets night terrors, and a lot of nightmares of memories that aren't his 

He also HATES the dark, and he's a little bit claustrophobic 

Owns a TON of Freddy merch and he decorates his bedroom with it 

He sees Freddy as a parental figure, but he’s too shy to express it. 

Is GGY/patient 46

Vanessa Alvarez

24 years old 

Inspired off of her first poster where she had wavy hair and freckles (I just added a tooth gap bc I thought it looked cute.) 

Lesbian

Has little recollection of her time as Vanny, Afton put her to sleep most of the time- but she's had visions and physical scars. 

Pre-help wanted: her personality was bubblier, she had hobbies like baking, gaming and cosmetics. 

Post-security breach: she’s more on the quiet side, she can get anxious and depressed at times. But shes keeping her head up for Gregory (and she’ll learn to do so for herself as well). 

As for hobbies: She likes to read now, and she still bakes occasionally 

Can be unintentionally rude sometimes 

Her parents are deceased (backstory later ...*wink wink*) 

She lived at the Pizzaplex for a while, but after the savior ending she got a brand-new apartment to start things over. 

Vanessa and Valerie (tape girl) were romantically involved at some point, but were torn apart by glitchtrap 

Freddy and Gregory live with Vanessa in her new apartment  

Vanessa has legally adopted Gregory, but their dynamic is more sibling-like than it is parental. 

Glamrock Freddy 

His immobility slightly bothers him, not being able to express himself properly is the worst part of being just an animatronic head. 

Vanessa and Gregory like taking him on road trips to see more of the world, so much so that Freddy considers traveling as one of his hobbies 

Vanessa and Gregory connected him to the internet so he's basically like Alexa now (he's just sentient)

Him and Bonnie are long lost lovers (he hardly talks about it though) 

He's become a reliable source of advice for both Gregory and Vanessa 

Freddy is the peacemaker/glue/dad in the group 

Vanessa has been working for a while to make a body for Freddy, though the lack of parts available for him has slowed things down. They resorted to stealing from warehouses and recycling everyday items to create a makeshift body for him. Though it's only halfway completed in the present.  

He's really good at singing. Oftentimes, he finds himself singing lullabies to Gregory or singing along to tunes during road trips. 

He misses his friends a lot of the time, and he’s still a little frustrated with Gregory for treating them with cruelty. 

Dislikes conflict/ likes seeing the bright side of things