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#probate specialist
legaljackson · 6 months
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Duties of a Probate Lawyer
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To make the process of getting a grant from the court easy, you need expert help. It is better to search for the Best Probate Lawyers Near Me to ensure that you don’t have to deal with any complexities and are able to get the grant as soon as possible.
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A Guide To Finding The Best Probate Solicitors Near Windsor
Finding a probate solicitor is one of the last things anyone wants to think about when they have lost a friend or family member.
Probate, however, adds another layer of complexity to grief and sorrow. Executors and beneficiaries of wills, as well as the families of recently deceased individuals, may find the probate process difficult. It is crucial to find a probate solicitor early in the process who can provide the necessary legal expertise and guidance to ease this burden.
Here, we discuss the importance of choosing the best probate solicitors near Windsor and highlight key factors to consider.
What Is Probate?
People may only know probate once called upon, whether as executors or beneficiaries. Probate is the legal process that verifies the validity of a will and facilitates the distribution of assets left behind by a deceased person. A deceased person's assets are collected, any debts or taxes are paid, and the remaining assets are distributed to the rightful beneficiaries.
The probate solicitor oversees this process, ensuring that all legal requirements are met and guiding the executor or administrator throughout.
Factors To Consider When Choosing A Probate Solicitor
Expertise and specialization:
Find a will making solicitors near upton who specializes in probate and estate administration. Their deep knowledge of the legal complexities will ensure a smooth and efficient resolution. A solicitor who keeps up to date with any updates in probate law is essential since the law is constantly changing.
Reputation and track record:
It's important to research a solicitor's reputation before choosing one. Consult friends, family, or professionals who have worked with them in the past. Success in probate cases is a good indicator of competence.
Client reviews and testimonials:
Assess a solicitor's professionalism, communication skills, and client satisfaction levels by reading reviews and testimonials. They can offer valuable insight into a solicitor's approach and service quality. Client testimonials can be found on platforms such as Trustpilot or Google My Business.
Transparency and communication:
The legal jargon can be particularly confusing for those going through the probate process for the first time. Dealing with sensitive matters like probate requires a solicitor who engages in clear and transparent communication. Ensure your solicitor is responsive and attentive and maintains open communication throughout the process.
Cost and fee structure:
Cost should not be the only deciding factor, but understanding the solicitor's fee structure is essential. Ask how fees are calculated and whether any additional charges are involved so there are no nasty surprises when you receive the bill. Shopping around is always a good idea when it comes to most services. Make an informed decision by obtaining multiple quotes and comparing them.
Find expert probate solicitors here at Barrett And Thomson
Probation can be a stressful and time-consuming process. Having the right probate solicitor by your side will help you navigate the complexities of this process.
Making an informed decision when choosing a probate solicitor requires considering all the factors listed above, including expertise, reputation, client reviews, communication, and cost.
Barrett And Thomson understand the emotional and logistical challenges associated with dealing with a deceased loved one's estate. Our probate solicitors are here to guide you through every step of the probate process. During these difficult times, we provide reliable and empathetic legal support.
Contact Barrett And Thomson today to learn more about our probate services.
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Understanding Probate Services in Market Harborough
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Navigating the probate process can be complex and emotionally challenging, mainly after dropping a cherished one. In Market Harborough, a charming marketplace city in Leicestershire, know-how the role of Probate advisor Market Harborough can help streamline this journey. This guide explores what probate entails, the benefits of hiring a probate consultant, and the way to select the proper one to your desires.
What is Probate? Probate is the prison manner via which a deceased person's property is run. It entails validating the desire (if one exists), assessing the estate's fee, paying any money owed, and dispensing the closing belongings to the beneficiaries. The method can vary in complexity primarily based on factors like the size of the estate, the presence of a will, and the relationships among the beneficiaries.
The Role of Probate Advisors A probate guide specializes in guiding people through the probate system. Their information can be useful in several regions:
Understanding Legal Requirements: Each property is concern to specific felony obligations. A probate guide can clarify what's required beneath UK regulation, which includes tax implications and deadlines.
Navigating Emotional Challenges: Dealing with the loss of a loved one can be overwhelming. A compassionate probate advisor gives emotional assist and facilitates relieve some of the burdens related to the procedure.
Efficient Administration: They can help in collecting essential documentation, which includes the death certificate and could, and help with completing programs for probate. This ensures that the manner is handled correctly and decreases the chance of mistakes.
Tax Matters: Probate advisors can provide steerage on Inheritance Tax (IHT) and other tax responsibilities that could stand up, assisting to ensure compliance and potentially lowering tax liabilities.
Asset Distribution: They help in figuring out and valuing the deceased’s property, from belongings to non-public assets, ensuring the entirety is accounted for before distribution.
Benefits of Hiring a Probate Advisor Expertise: Probate advisors have a deep knowledge of the criminal landscape surrounding estate control. Their experience may be vital in averting not unusual pitfalls that can stand up all through the system.
Time-Saving: Managing an property can be time-consuming. By hiring a probate guide, you may consciousness to your personal healing at the same time as they manage the difficult information.
Reduced Stress: The probate process may be emotionally taxing. Having a professional for your aspect can alleviate a great deal of this stress, permitting you to grieve and heal.
Comprehensive Support: A exact probate consultant will no longer only manual you via the criminal components but will also be there to guide you emotionally and almost.
Choosing the Right Probate Advisor in Market Harborough When searching out a probate consultant, consider the subsequent elements:
Qualifications and Experience: Look for a person with relevant qualifications, including a member of the Institute of Professional Willwriters (IPW) or the Society of Trust and Estate Practitioners (STEP). Experience in managing estates just like yours is also a plus.
Services Offered: Ensure the advisor offers a full range of services, from will validation to property distribution. It’s beneficial if they are able to cope with tax matters as nicely.
Reputation: Research potential advisors on line. Client reviews, testimonials, and rankings can come up with insights into their popularity and the high-quality in their provider.
Fee Structure: Understand how the advisor fees for his or her services. Some may also offer constant prices, even as others may charge a percent of the estate’s value. Be sure to discuss and agree on charges in advance to keep away from surprises later.
Personal Connection: Since probate is a non-public system, having an advisor you sense comfortable with is vital. A true rapport can make the technique greater doable.
Local Resources and Support in Market Harborough In addition to non-public probate advisors, Market Harborough offers diverse nearby sources. The Citizens Advice Bureau can provide loose, unbiased guidance on probate topics. Local solicitors may provide probate services and can be a terrific choice if you decide upon face-to-face interactions.
Conclusion The probate technique in Market Harborough can be complicated, however with the right guidance, it is able to be navigated effectively. Hiring a Probate specialist Market Harborough can relieve pressure, make sure compliance with legal requirements, and offer treasured emotional aid during a challenging time. By cautiously considering your alternatives and selecting a qualified consultant, you may cognizance on what subjects maximum: honoring the reminiscence of the one that you love and facilitating a easy transition in their estate. If you’re in need of help, make the effort to research and hook up with a probate consultant who aligns along with your desires and values.
At Welland Valley Legal we aim to take that stress away, take on the responsibility and guide you through the process in a calm, professional and caring manner.
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salegrandmas · 1 year
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Get a Quick Offer on Your Probate Sale California
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Have a Look Visual Media specializes in probate sales in California. Receive a quick offer for your probate property and streamline the selling process. Our team understands the complexities of Probate Sale California and ensures a smooth and efficient transaction, providing you with a hassle-free experience.
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zepskies · 1 year
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Smoke Eater - Part 2
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Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader 
Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real. 
That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.   
AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘
🔥 Series Masterlist
Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪
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Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"
Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.
Especially for Dean Winchester.
In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.
Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor. 
Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.
Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.
“Jack!” he called out.
Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.
“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.
“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.
Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”
Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.
“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.
A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.
“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”
“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”
“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.
“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.
“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.
“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.
“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”
“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”
“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.
Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.
“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”
Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”
Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.
Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.
It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.
“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.
“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”
Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.
“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.
“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”
Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.
“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”
“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”
Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.
But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile. 
“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.
“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”
Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.
“Who’s Henry?” he asked.
Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.
“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”
“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.
“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”
That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.
“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.
“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.
“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.
Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”
Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”
The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.   
From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.
“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”
“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”
Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.
Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.
You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).
He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.
“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”
“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”
Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”
Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.
“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”
You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.
“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”
You raised up your tupperware with a smile.
And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.
He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.
“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”
Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.
“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.
“Heading off to work now?” he asked.
“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”
Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”
“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”
“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.
Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”
“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”
“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.
He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”
“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”
Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.
But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.
He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.
So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.
“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”
“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”
“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”
You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.
“Dean.”
He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.
“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.
Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.
Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.
“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”
Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.
“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.
“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”
“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.
This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.
“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.
Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.
“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”
“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.
Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time). 
“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”
Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.   
“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.
“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea. 
Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up. 
“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.” 
Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.
Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable. 
And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth. 
But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful. 
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About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out. 
What a fucked way to die.
Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.
It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.
The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.
John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.
They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.
“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”
John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”
“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.
“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.
“That makes four,” Cas said.
“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”
John’s brows furrowed.
“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”
He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.
Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.
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Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.
Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.
“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.
Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.
“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”
Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.
“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.
Your grimace deepened at the reminder.
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Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.
He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.
“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”
Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.
“Excuse me?”
Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.
“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”
You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.
“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.
He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.
“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed. 
He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.
“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.
“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.
“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”
Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”
“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”
He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.
“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”
You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense. 
“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”
“With what money?” Nick scoffed.
Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?
The man noted your reaction with a nod.
“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.
He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.
“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.
His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.
“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”
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You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.
You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.
Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.
“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”
After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.
“Fine. Where?” you asked.
“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”
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“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.
Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.
“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.
Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.
…Well, maybe longer than a little.
“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.
“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.
“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”
Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.
“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”
Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”
Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.
“Not my department.”
“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.
Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.
“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”
“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”
“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”
“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.
“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”
Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.
“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.
“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”
Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.
“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.
Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”
Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”
“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.
Sam shot his brother a flat look.
“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.
Dean’s brows knitted together.
“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”
“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.
“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”
Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.
“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”
Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.
“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said. 
Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.
Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.
“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.
“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.
Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.
“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”
Dean raised incredulous brows.
“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”
Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”
He shot his other two friends a nod.
“See you guys.”
Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.
“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.
Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”
Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.
“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.
“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”
“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.
“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.
“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean could only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”
Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”
“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”
Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.
Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.
Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.
Dean had carpet burn.
“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”
Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.
“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”
“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”
“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”
Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.
“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”
He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.
“What?” she said.
He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”
“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”
He blew out a breath and shook his head.  
“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.
“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.
Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.
“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”
Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.
“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”
He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.
That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.
So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.
Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.
“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him. 
Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.
But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.
He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.
He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.
“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”
Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.
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You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.
“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.
The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.
“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.
“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”
It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.
And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…
But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.
So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.
It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.
There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.
There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.
“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”
You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”
Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.
“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.
“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”
Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.
“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.
Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”
“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.
“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”
“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.
Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”
Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.
“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.
Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”
You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.
Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.
There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.
That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.
Lieutenant Winchester.
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AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏
Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!
(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.
Next Time:
Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.
“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.
Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.
“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.
“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”
Andréa huffed in amusement.
“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.
Keep Reading: PART 3
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Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
Series Tag List (Part 1):
@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91
@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19
@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420
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basiatlu · 11 months
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Day 26: Melt
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“Cleared: of all charges posed as a minor under duress per threat of life and magic - including that of being cursed with the Dark Mark. In concern for his war-influenced actions during residency of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry: the accused will be held no more responsible than that of his fellow peers: also cleared.
“In concern of Mr. Draco Lucius Malfoy’s nonfeasance during residency of his family home, the Wizengamot has ruled that after a careful evaluation of Pensieve evidence provided by one Harry James Potter, one late Severus Snape via dying declaration, and one Narcissa Malfoy née Black - recently acquitted: a requirement of 3 months probation and mandatory Mind Healer evaluation is to be completed by Mr. Malfoy and then verified by a Ministry-appointed specialist and probationary-auror guard.”
He was alive, with his wand, his soul, and the tattered remains of his dignity. It was… good, yes?
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ghostedeabha · 11 months
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more random cod headcanons
tw: mentions of self harm, references to OG ghost backstory, angst :)
141 tried to do group therapy together
but they ended up making the therapist cry and the four of them had to awkwardly comfort the therapist
ghost hates therapy with a passion but goes anyway
soap did the tide pod challenge
price lost it at him in the med bay when he found out
"johnny it's a plastic capsule of LAUNDRY DETERGENT!"
"yummy colours🥰"
ghost used to sh on his face
love how i just give yall a bunch of sweet stuff and then BOOM ANGST HEADCANON outta nowhere :)
i feel like he suffers from severe facial dysmorphia, especially after covering his face for so long
sweet pie gang: soap, könig, price
savoury pie gang: ghost and gaz
couldnt care less, just likes pie: horangi
ghost hates coffee but pretends to like it to seem cool (he's actually drinking coffee crisp hot chocolate)
horangi listens to ayesha erotica
he is also a RAGING bisexual (strong lean towards men)
laswell refers to the 141 as her boys, she loves to embarrass them like a mom would
soap and ghost are ATTROCIOUS at cooking
price is pretty good at it, can make quite a lot but struggles with a few harder recipes (and also somehow cannot make instant noodles)
gaz is a GOD in the kitchen but he hates cooking
soap is not allowed in the kitchen alone, once set the kitchen in fire trying to get a glass of water
awkward day on base when that happened
"sorry, can't go into the kitchen, the explosions specialist set it on fire trying to get a drink"
soap listens to classic rock and metal only (and katy perry but he will never admit it)
gaz listens to (shocking literally everyone on the team) music from the 40's, 50's and 60's. he listens to some modern music but he just ADORES the vintage music, especially jazz.
gaz and soap also like therapy
like genuinely enjoy it
gaz has to hype himself up before his appointments though
soap hypes the therapist up
price is neutral, he'd prefer to just smoke and drink to deal with his problems but understands that talking about them with a professional is the best option
ghost, as mentioned before, hates therapy with a burning passion but goes anyway
mostly because he knows he will be put on probation if he doesn't
but also because he knows that he needs the help even if he doesn't want to admit it
also after one of his first month of going to all his appointments that month without skipping one at all, price told simon he was proud of him and now he uses that as motiva to go to his appointments
price knows how to use technology in the weirdest ways
can operate a drone but cannot for the life of him figure out QR codes
a pretty decent hacker but do NOT ask him what any text slang aside from "lol" and "lmao" is. he does not know.
doesn't know that emojis have different meanings depending on context
once said "simon's in the hospital😭" i the TF141 group chat, gaz and soap thought that he was laughing at simon
soap got arrested in croatia on a mission once because he committed arson
kate had to bail him out and he got an earful on being a pyromaniac and arsonist
price just told him to restrict his fire setting to the battlefield
valeria has a medusa tattoo, it's under her chest on her sternum (iykyk)
ghost was tempted to get a medusa tattoo but decided against it because he views it more as a symbol of strength for women (really afab/fem aligned in general) who have suffered through that kind of assault and that it would be wrong to take that from them
he got a tattoo inspired by medusa instead
ghost has his on his hip
he was orginally going to get it on his left ribcage but when the artist was placing the stencil he almost had a panic attack and they both decided a different placement would be better
könig has tattoos for his siblings and his mother (mama's booooyyyyy🗣️)
ghost also has tattoos for his mother, tommy, joseph and even one for beth
is there a male version of a barracks bunny?
because that's horangi, that man is fucking EVERYONE or getting fucked, depends on his mood that night
idk i feel like sometimes they all watch like family guy or bob's burgers together sometimes during their downtime
soap's fav bob's burgers character is gene
price's is teddy
gaz's is tina
ghost's is both louise and bob
könig's is linda
horangi's is mort and kuchi kopi
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legaljackson · 7 months
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A Contemporary Guide To Probate Specialists Near Cippenham
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wellandvallelegal · 1 month
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salegrandmas · 1 year
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hauntedjpegcollection · 8 months
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IF I GO TO HELL, AT LEAST ALL MY FRIENDS WILL BE THERE
pinterest - writing - tag - matilda
BASICS
FULL NAME → Tanaka Daisuke/Elias
NICKNAME → Lark - almost exclusively goes by this
AGE RANGE → 20-30’s
BIRTHDAY → August 29th
SPECIES → Human
NATIONALITY → American
GENDER → Trans Male
ORIENTATION → Bisexual
OCCUPATIONS → Shadow PMC, Specialist, Extraction Unit (CoD Au), Lead singer (Band Au)
THREAT LEVEL → High
SPOKEN LANGUAGES → English (fluent), Japanese (fluent)
APPEARANCE
FACECLAIM → Kentaro Sakaguchi
EYE COLOR(S) → Brown
HAIR COLOR(S) → Black/Bleach Blond
DOMINANT HAND → Right
ACCENT → California, West Coast American
HEIGHT → 5’7’’
WEIGHT → 160/175 lbs
BODY → Very muscular. Lean with a runners build. Very low body fat, aesthetically pleasing washboard abs type of guy. Longer torso’d, well defined arms. Long, thin fingers. Sharper than most.
TATTOO(S) → A giant black centipede over his side, small hand tattoos.
PIERCING(S) → Ears, left nostril
GLASSES → No
SCARS → Has little scars all over his hands from knife practicing.
BACKGROUND
HOMETOWN → Oakland, California
FINANCIAL STATUS → Lower class (upper class in band au)
EDUCATION LEVEL → High school
RAP SHEET → Misdemeanors wiped at 18; breaking and entering, petty theft, auto theft
PRISON TIME → Two years in jail for arson, negotiated and released on five years probation to avoid federal prison.
RELATIONSHIPS
BIRTH ORDER → First
PARENTS → Tanaka Sadako (mother), Tanaka Minato (father)
SIBLINGS → Tanaka Akari (sister, second born)
SIGNIFICANT OTHERS → Matilda Rhoades (long term partner)
CHILDREN → None
ENEMIES → None
PETS → None
VICES
SMOKES → No
DRINKS → Socially
DRUGS → No
VIOLENCE → No
SELF DESTRUCTIVE → Moderate
PSYCHOLOGY
MENTAL → PTSD, Depression
PHYSICAL → No
ANGER EXPRESSION → Cold, unresponsive, avoids engaging. Can be explosive when certain buttons are pushed—prefers not to argue (he says anyway)
ALIGNMENT → Chaotic Neutral
PERSONALITY TRAITS → Dedicated, loving, loyal, quick witted, envious, complacent, uniform, aimless
MISC
SIN → Envy
ZODIAC → Aries
ELEMENT → Earth
SEX PREFERNCE → Dominant switch (leans dominant, enjoys being submissive with femmes)
ANIMAL → Black and white hawk eagle
MUTATION → Avian control
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thehaemanthus · 1 year
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Does that background affect how you read Red Rising/Iron Gold series?
Hm, I think it does a little. Not in a “wow, look at all of those people that were killed, that’s a crime against humanity” way but in a “the way Pierce Brown writes a post-conflict society (sort of, we’re still at war) is really good”
I don’t have the laws and agreements about what a crime during- and outside of- war is, in this universe. I have to assume it’s changed from the laws today that we that have built up over the past two centuries or so. So it doesn’t feel like a constructive thing to be like “that violates this law of war”.
Rather, things like the museum Ephraim and Co rob, the camp Lyria starts out in, the political turmoil and discussions of reconciliation and punishment, even Lysander’s attitudes (yeah yeah, I know) show me that Pierce did some thinking of what things are like. Ten years after society is completely overhauled? There are gonna be winners, there are going to be losers, and there are going to be guilty people who are walking free and victims who continue to get the short end of the stick
Transitional justice is what it sounds like: reparations, trials, truth and reconciliation committees, investigations, truth telling, gathering stories. And it can take a very long time. Fun fact: the guy who’s prosecuting Trump for the classified documents thing was previously the chief prosecutor at the Kosovo Specialist Chambers, which is still trying cases for crimes that happened over two decades ago. This court was not created until 2017, because the ICTY wasn’t the place to bring cases against the Kosovo Liberation Army I guess.
It takes a long time to do these kinds of trials, at the moment. Someone was recently, like in the past two weeks, ruled as not fit to stand trial for their role in the 1994 Rwandan genocide. There was something in the news about a guy on probation who was sentenced after an ICTY ruling saying some nasty stuff and people calling for his probable to be reexamined. Trials take a long time and the things that happen stay with us. Conflicts flare up again. Just look at the absolute horror and atrocities Sudan right now.
When I read Iron Gold and Dark Age, the realistic rockiness is what impressed me. A really good, tragic, but believable condition of society as it would be ten years after the world got turned upside down
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reasoningdaily · 1 year
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Rapper Tory Lanez was sentenced Tuesday to 10 years in prison for shooting Megan Thee Stallion in the feet and injuring her three years ago.
Los Angeles County Superior Court Judge David Herriford’s decision followed an unusually long hearing that stretched into a second day and included seven people answering questions from Lanez’s attorneys, mostly about his childhood and charitable work as well as his struggle with the death of his mother when he was 11. A jail chaplain said Lanez hosts a daily moment of prayer on his jail floor that has lessened tensions and sets him far apart from the 15,000 other inmates he’s met over the years.
Lanez spoke for several minutes, asking Herriford to not send him to prison. He called Megan “someone I still care for dearly to this day” regardless of what she may think of him. He said “the victim’s my friend.” He talked about bonding with her over the loss of their mothers.
“We both lost our mothers. We would sit there and drink, and drink until we got numb,” he said.
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Lanez’s lawyers also submitted 76 character reference letters from friends, family and other supporters. The writers include singer Iggy Azalea, a police chief and a state representative from Missouri, and a doctor who treated Lanez for hair loss.
In a written statement read aloud in court, Megan said she struggled with whether to attend in person, and her absence should not be seen as anything other than her preserving her mental well being. She said since Tory Lanez her, “I’ve not experienced a single day of peace,” Deputy District Attorney Kathy Ta read aloud.
Megan said mercy is for people who show remorse, and Lanez has shown none. She thanked the Los Angeles County District Attorney's Office for their support and said she wants Lanez’s sentence to be a message for every woman who’s a victim of violence.
“He not only shot me, he made a mockery of my trauma. He tried to position himself as a victim and set out to destroy my character and my soul,” Megan said.
“He lied to anyone that would listen and paid bloggers to disseminate false information about the case on social media. He released music videos and songs to damage my character and continue his crusade,” she continued. “At first, he tried to deny the shooting ever happened. Then, he attempted to place the blame on my former best friend. In his tantrum of lies, he’s blamed the system, blamed the press and, as of late, he’s using his childhood trauma to shield himself and avoid culpability.”
She that Lanez “must be forced to face the full consequences of his heinous actions and face justice.”
Lanez continues to maintain his innocence. His lawyers argued he has an alcohol-use disorder because of post-traumatic stress disorder and an anxiety disorder, and they asked he be released from jail on probation and to a residential substance abuse program.
Herriford questioned where the nexus is between the crime and Lanez’s alcohol-use disorder if he’s still denying shooting Megan. “Your client at no time indicates he actually shot the victim,” Herriford said told Lanez’s lead lawyer, Jose Baez.
“What is he alleging he did as a result of alcohol-use disorder if he didn’t do anything?” Herriford asked. “What did the doctor conclude he did as a result of alcohol use? It’s very unclear.”
Baez said “yelling” and the “argument that went back and forth in the car.”
Baez said “there were lots of decisions that transpired” to escalate the situation.
“It wasn’t a pretty situation. It wasn’t that young man's finest moment,” Baez said of Lanez.
Herriford’s unusual decision to allow questions meant it took three hours to get through the people who spoke on Monday. He also allowed Lanez’s lawyers to re-open their questioning of two speakers on Tuesday.
The speakers included a jail chaplain who said Lanez has helped bring peace to his restricted cell floor through a daily prayer call that brings everyone together at 9 p.m. and a mental health specialist who said Lanez has post-traumatic stress order and an anxiety order that underlays his alcohol-use order.
Deputy District Attorney Alex Bott said Lanez was almost 29 when he shot Megan, and he had no prior reports of alcohol problems. Video of his arrest shows him walking without stumbling, Bott said, and his attempts to bribe Kelsey Harris and Megan show someone in control of his actions. He said the shooting “was an act of misogyny towards Megan.”
Bott said Lanez will “say whatever it takes to avoid accountability" and "is talking out of both sides of his mouth" by claiming alcoholism and a mental disorder but also saying he's a role model for his son.
Stephanie Herring, program director of Home Sentencing, said Lanez is a great candidate for her program, and she’s available to pick him up from jail and take him there immediately. She said she believes anyone with a substance abuse disorder must first have a mental health disorder, and Lanez qualifies. 
The sentencing ends a three-year-old case that sparked contentious debate online, propelled by what prosecutors described as a “campaign of misinformation” waged by Lanez against Megan. 
Lanez was arrested on a gun charge shortly after the July 12, 2020, shooting in Los Angeles’ Hollywood Hills. He and Megan were leaving reality star Kylie Jenner’s home with Megan’s friend Kelsey Nicole Harris when an argument broke out and Megan exited the Escalade on Nichols Canyon Road barefoot and in her bikini. She testified in trial that she heard Lanez say “Dance, bitch!” before he opened fire. 
Megan initially denied being shot, instead telling police she’d stepped on glass, despite needing surgery to remove bullet fragments in her feet. She told investigators four days later that Lanez had shot her. He was charged in August 2020 and remained free on bail until September 2022, when he was placed on house arrest after allegedly assaulting singer August Alsina in Chicago. He was jailed after the jury convicted him Dec. 23 of first-degree assault with a firearm, negligent discharge of a firearm and possession of a concealed and unregistered firearm in a vehicle.
Judge Herriford rejected his motion for new trial in May, and the state appellate court then rejected an unusual request to remove the judge from the case or order him to grant a new trial. 
Megan, meanwhile, became more publicly active, throwing out the first pitch at the Houston Rockets home opener, posting more on social media and headlining concerts such as the L.A. Pride Festival in June and the Essence Festival in New Orleans in July. She opened up about the shooting in an Elle cover story in April, saying, “For years, my attacker tried to leverage social media to take away my power.”
“Imagine how it feels to be called a liar every day? Especially from a person who was once part of your inner circle,” Megan said.
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tyrelawgroup · 4 months
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trashcankitty12 · 1 year
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Howw as the relationship between Griffin and her mother while she was working for the circle?
So I'm going to answer this based on my "main" verse because I have no idea about this with canon and it's irrelevant in my "Left in the Aftermath" verse due to her being already dead.
Before she joined the Coven, she and her mother were sort of strained because of the death of her father and the fact she'd been getting into so much trouble at school and with authority figures.
Theodora was terrified that Griffin was going to end up taken to a Dark Magic Camp or sent somewhere else because of how unapologetically anti-council and anti-Dragon (yeah) that Griffin had become.
(Which, the woman understood. Things were awful for dark magic users during this time and it was anger-inducing. But Theodora was more willing to bow her head and bide her time, whereas Griffin was determined to make changes right then and there.)
(And so was Salvador, who had already been secretly working with the Coven here and there on projects before being an official member. He was never Inner Circle though, as his power level wasn't considered "there" and he was better suited for working as one of their few healer specialists.)
When Griffin joined, her mother wasn't informed. She had no idea at first what Griffin and Salvador were up to, thinking they were working with a magical research group. That is, until the police started getting involved and she saw different news articles.
Theodora was pissed.
You see, the Ancestral Coven had already tried tapping her late husband, Edgar, into joining their ranks, intrigued by his work on Magic Theory and the Balance Theories. (Which Griffin would later complete and publish, with him as a posthumous co-author.)
But they had rejected the Hags because Theodora could see through their guises. (They claimed they wanted to "reunify" the dark realms and make things more "equal". But she has a future sight ability and could see the destruction and chaos the Ancestral Witches wanted to cause and had saw a past vision of them being the ones to murder the monarchy of Obsidian. Needless to say, she was quick to inform Edgar and have them sent off.)
So now her children are in their clutches and then it gets worse. Her daughter is also now involved with their "son". Fan-fucking-tastic.
Now, Salvador and Griffin would visit discreetly during holidays or other important events, and she would try to keep her feelings in check because these are her babies. But damn seeing Valtor in her house... That had her hackles raised in ways she didn't think they could be. Even her familiar had it out for him.
(She would try and talk her kids out of being involved, would try and open their eyes to the situation they were in and how the Ancestral Witches were lying. But they thought they knew better and could handle it. "We're changing the realms, Momma. You'll see.")
Her children are smart though, so she knew it was only a matter of time before they'd see through the bullshit and come to their senses. It took years, but it would happen. (And she had her escape plan ready because she knew those bitches wouldn't let there be any peace when Griffin and Salvador finally left. And she was not going to be their victim.)
Of course, she was reunited with her daughter and son at the Fortress of Light after their "trial" had ended. They were alive, on some form of parole or probation period, and it was great.
(And then she discovers she going to be a grandmother and "great, now we're tied to him forever." Which isn't so bad in her mind after she starts having visions about Valkyrie and who she'll become. Really puts her mind at ease.)
(There's a lot of difficult mother-daughter and mother-son conversations during this time period. Lots of regrets and guilt. Nightmares. Worries. Heartbreak. But Momma Sylvane will always come through for her kids, even when they're deadass wrong and fucked around and found out.)
Now, after all this has passed, they have a much better relationship. Much better.
Though there are still moments in which certain mistakes are brought up front and center. ("We get it, Mom. We joined a cult and nearly lost ourselves into it. Can we please drop it now?" "Not on your life.")
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