#guaranteed rent services

[lutonlettingagent]

Professional letting agents also follow well-established protocols and streamlined processes. Supported by a reliable network of vendors and contractors, these agents understand precisely what actions are necessary, when to take them, and how to execute them. This level of organization and efficiency allows them to manage properties more swiftly and effectively than individual landlords typically can. As one of the Leading letting agents in Dunstable also offer guaranteed rent services, providing landlords with a reliable income stream.

[dylawas-reblogs]

me: yeah so we haven't had a meeting about it yet, but I asked my coworkers about past interns and why they left; chances are they won't hire me full time at my internship immediately. However, the chances of having it extended are pretty good, and I like what I'm doing, and they're going to be talking about budget in July. Sure my finances are a little tight but--

my sperm donor (only slightly exaggerated): look for a new job immediately and tell them if they won't hire you full time you're leaving. and no, I don't care if you don't find something in your industry and you have to settle for a job that will make you hate being alive even more than you already do. Also I'm going to ignore how long it took you to find this internship to begin with

me:

[prozach27]

.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A profoundly stupid case about video game cheating could transform adblocking into a copyright infringement

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Here's a weird consequence of our societal shift from capitalism (where riches come from profits) to feudalism (where riches come from rents): increasingly, your rights to your actual property (the physical stuff you own) are trumped by corporations' metaphorical "intellectual property" claims.

That's a lot to unpack! Let's start with a quick primer on profits and rents. Capitalists invest money in buying equipment, then they pay workers wages to use that equipment to produce goods and services. Profit is the sum a capitalist takes home from this arrangement: money made from paying workers to do productive things.

Now, rents: "rent" is the money a rentier makes by owning a "factor of production": something the capitalist needs in order to make profits. Capitalists risk their capital to get profits, but rents are heavily insulated from risk.

For example: a coffee shop owner buys espresso machines, hires baristas, and rents a storefront. If they do well, the landlord can raise their rent, denying them profits and increasing rents. But! If a great new cafe opens across the street and the coffee shop owner goes broke, the landlord is in great shape, because they now have a vacant storefront they can rent, and they can charge extra for a prime location across the street from the hottest new coffee shop in town.

The "moral philosophers" that today's self-described capitalists claim to worship – Adam Smith, David Ricardo – hated rents. For them, profits were the moral way to get rich, because when capitalists chase profits, they necessarily chase the production of things that people want.

When rentiers chase rents, they do so at the expense of profits. Every dollar a capitalist pays in rent – licenses for IP, rent for a building, etc – is a dollar that can't be extracted in profit, and then reinvested in the production of more goods and services that society desires.

The "free markets" of Adam Smith weren't free from regulation, they were free from rents.

The moral philosophers' hatred of rents was really a hatred of feudalism. The industrial revolution wasn't merely (or even primarily) the triumph of new machines: rather, it was the triumph of profits over rent. For the industrial revolution to succeed, the feudal arrangement had to end. Capitalism is incompatible with hereditary lords receiving guaranteed rents from hereditary serfs who are legally obliged to work for them. Capitalism triumphed over feudalism when the serfs were turned off of the land (becoming the "free labor" who went to work in the textile mills) and the land itself was given over to sheep grazing (providing the wool for those same mills).

But that doesn't mean that the industrial revolution invented profits. Profits were to be found in feudal societies, wherever a wealthy person increased their wealth by investing in machines and hiring workers to use them. The thing that made feudalism feudal was how conflicts between rents and profits cashed out. For so long as the legal system elevated the claims of rentiers over the claims of capitalists, the society was feudal. Once the legal system gave priority to profit over rent, it became capitalist.

Capitalists hate capitalism. The engine of capitalism is insecurity. The successful capitalist is like the fastest gun in the old west: there's always a young gun out there looking to "disrupt" their fortune with a new invention, product, or organizational strategy that "creatively destroys" the successful businesses of the day and replaces them with new ones:

https://locusmag.com/2024/03/cory-doctorow-capitalists-hate-capitalism/

That's a hard way to live, with your every success serving as a blinking KICK ME sign visible to every ambitious person in the world. Precarity makes people miserable and nuts:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

So capitalists universally aspire to become rentiers and investors seek out companies that have a plan to extract rent. This is why Warren Buffett is so priapatic for companies with "moats and walls" – legal privileges and market structures that protect the business from competition and disruption:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/warren-buffett-explains-moat-principle-164442359.html

Feudal rents were mostly derived from land, but even in the feudal era, the king was known to reward loyal lickspittles with rents over ideas. The "patents royal" were the legally protected right to decide who could make or do certain things: for example, you might have a patent royal over the production of silver ribbon, and anyone who wanted to make a silver ribbon would have to pay for your permission. If you chose to grant that permission exclusively to one manufacturer, then no one else could make it, and you could charge a license fee to the manufacturer that accounted for nearly all their profit.

Today, rentiers are also interested in land. Bill Gates is the country's number one landowner, and in many towns, private equity landlords are snappinig up every single family home that hits the market and converting it to a badly maintained slum:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/22/koteswar-jay-gajavelli/#if-you-ever-go-to-houston

But the 21st Century's defining source of rent is "IP" – a controversial term that I use here to mean, "Any law or policy that allows a company to exert legal control over its competitors, critics and customers":

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

IP is in irreconcilable conflict with real property rights. Think of HP selling you a printer and wanting to decide which ink you use, or John Deere selling you a tractor and wanting to tell you who can fix it. Or, for that matter, Apple selling you a phone and dictating which software you are allowed to install on it.

Think of Unity, a company that makes tools for video-game makers, demanding a royalty from every game that is eventually sold, calling this "shared success":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Every time one of these conflicts ends with IP's triumph over real property rights, that is a notch in favor of calling the world we live in now "technofeudalist" rather than "technocapitalist":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/28/cloudalists/#cloud-capital

Once you start to think of "IP" as "laws that let me control how other people use their real property," a lot of the seemingly incoherent fights over IP snap into place. This also goes a long way to explaining how otherwise sensible people can agree on expansions of IP to achieve some short-term goal, irrespective of the spillover harms from such a move. Hard cases make bad law, and hard IP cases make terrible law.

Five years ago, some anti-fascist counterdemonstrators hit on the clever idea of blaring top 40 music during neo-Nazi marches, on the theory that this would prevent Nazis from uploading videos of their marches to Youtube and other platforms, whose filters would block any footage that included copyrighted music:

https://memex.craphound.com/2019/07/23/clever-hack-that-will-end-badly-playing-copyrighted-music-during-nazis-rallies-so-they-cant-be-posted-to-youtube/

Thankfully, this didn't work, but not for lack of trying. And it might still work, if calls for beefing up video copyright filters are heeded. Cops all over the place are already blaring Taylor Swift songs and Disney tunes to prevent their interactions with the public from being uploaded:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/07/moral-hazard-of-filternets/#dmas

The same thinking that causes progressives to recklessly argue in favor of upload filters also causes them to demand that web scraping be treated as a copyright crime. They think they're creating a world where AI companies can't rip off their creation to train a model; they're actually creating a world where the Internet Archive can't capture JD Vance's embarrassing old podcast appearances or newspaper editorial boards' advocacy for positions they now recant:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/17/how-to-think-about-scraping/

It's not that Nazi marches are good, or that scraping can't be bad – it's just that advocating for the use of IP to address either is a cure that's not just worse than the disease – it's also not a cure.

A problem can be real, and still not be solvable with IP. I have enormous sympathy for gamers who rail against cheaters who use aftermarket hacks to improve their aim, see through buildings, or command other unfair advantages.

If you want to tell a stranger how they must configure their PC or console, IP ("any law that lets you control your competitors, critics or customers") is an obvious answer. But – as with other attempts to solve real problems with IP – this is a cure that is both worse than the disease, and also not a cure after all.

Back in 2002, Blizzard sued some hobbyists over a program called "bnetd." Bnetd was a program that provided a game-server you could connect to with the Blizzard games that you'd bought. It was created as an alternative to Battlenet, Blizzard's notoriously unreliable game-server software that left gamers frustrated and furious due to frequent outages:

https://www.eff.org/cases/blizzard-v-bnetd

To the public, Blizzard made several arguments against bnetd. They claimed that it encouraged piracy, because – unlike the official Battlenet servers – it didn't check whether the copies of Blizzard software that connected to it had a valid license key. Gamers didn't really care about that, but they did respond to another argument: that bnetd lacked the anti-cheat checking of Battlenet.

But that wasn't what Blizzard took to the court: in court, they argued that the hobbyists who made bnetd violated copyright law. Specifically, Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans "circumvention of access controls to copyrighted works." Basically, Blizzard argued that bnetd's authors violated the law because they used debuggers to examine the software they'd paid for, while it ran on their own computers, to figure out how to make a game server of their own.

Blizzard didn't sue bnetd's authors for pirating Blizzard software (they didn't – they'd paid for their copies). They didn't sue them for abetting other gamers' piracy. They certainly didn't sue them for making a cheat-friendly game-server.

Blizzard sued them for analyzing software they'd paid for, while it was running on their own computers.

Imagine if Walmart – one of the biggest book-retailers in America – had a policy that said that you could only shelve the books you bought at Walmart on shelves that you also bought at Walmart. Now imagine that Walmart successfully argued that measuring the books you bought from them and using those measurements to create your own compatible book-case violated their IP rights!

This is an outrageous triumph of IP rights over real property rights, and yet gamers vocally backed Blizzard in the early noughts, because gamers hate cheaters and because IP law is (correctly) understood as "the law that lets a company tell you how you can use your own real, physical property." Hard cases make bad law, hard IP cases make batshit law.

It's more than 20 years since bnetd, and cheating continues to serve as a Trojan horse to smuggle in batshit new IP laws. In Germany, Sony is suing the cheat-device maker Datel:

https://torrentfreak.com/sonys-ancient-lawsuit-vs-cheat-device-heads-in-right-direction-sonys-defeat-240705/

Sony argues that the Datel device – which rewrites the contents of a player's device's RAM, at the direction of that player – infringes copyright. Sony claims that the values that its programs write to your device's RAM chips are copyrighted works that it has created, and that altering that copyrighted work makes an unauthorized derivative work, which infringes its copyright.

Yes, this is batshit, and thankfully, Sony has been thwarted in court to date, but it is steaming ahead to the EU's highest court. If it succeeds, then it will open up every tool that modifies your computer at your direction to this kind of claim.

How bad can it be? Well, get this: the German publishing giant Axel Springer (owned by a monomaniacal Trumpist and Israel hardliner who has ordered journalists in his US news outlets to go easy on both) is suing Eyeo, makers of Adblock Plus, on the grounds that changing HTML to block an ad creates a "derivative work" of Axel Springer's web-pages:

https://torrentfreak.com/ad-blocking-infringes-copyright-ancient-sony-cheat-lawsuit-may-prove-pivotal-240729/

Axel Springer's filings cite the Sony/Datel case, using it to argue that their IP rights trump your property rights, and that you can only configure your web-browser, running on your computer, which you own, in ways that it approves of.

Axel Springer's war on browsers is a particularly pernicious maneuver, because browsers are the best example we have of internet software that serves as a "user agent." "User agent" is an old-timey engineering synonym for "browser" that reflects the browser's role: to go out onto the web on your behalf and bring back things for you, which it displays in the way you prefer:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/07/treacherous-computing/#rewilding-the-internet

Want to block flickering GIFs to forestall photosensitive epileptic servers? Ask your user agent to find and delete them. Want to shift colors into a gamut that accounts for your color-blindness? Ask your user-agent:

https://dankaminsky.com/2010/12/15/dankam/

Want to goose the font size and contrast so you can read the sadistic grey-on-white type that young designers use in the mistaken belief that black-on-white type is "hard on the eyes"? That's what Reader Mode is for:

https://frankgroeneveld.nl/2021/08/24/most-underused-browser-feature/

The foundation of any good digital relationship is a device that works for you, not for the people who own the servers you connect to. Even if they don't plan on screwing you over by directing your user agent to attack you on their behalf right now, the very existence of a facility in your technology that causes it to betray you, by design, is a moral hazard that inevitably results in your victimization:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

"IP" ("a law that lets me control how you use your own property") is a tempting solution to every problem, but ultimately, IP ends up magnifying the power of the already powerful, in contests where your only hope of victory is having a user agent whose only loyalty is to you.

The monotonic, dangerous expansion of IP reflects the growing victory of rents over profits – income from owning things, rather than income from doing things. Everyday people may argue for IP in the belief that it will solve their immediate problems – with AI, or Nazis, or in-game cheats – but ultimately, the expansion of a law that limits how you can use your property (including your capital) to uses that don't threaten neofeudalists will doom you to technoserfdom.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/29/faithful-user-agents/#hard-cases-make-bad-copyright-law

[urfavvcutiee]

🎀 TIPS FOR NEW ADULTS 💝

MONEY TIPS

Prioritize your emergency fund!!

Prioritizing your emergency fund is useful for saving money because it provides a financial safety net, reducing the need to rely on high-interest debt during unexpected expenses.

2. Plan your meals and cook in bulk.

Planning meals and cooking in bulk saves money by reducing food waste, lowering per-unit costs through bulk purchases, minimizing impulse buys, saving time and energy, and encouraging healthier eating habits.

3. Look to split costs with others if possible.

Splitting costs with others saves money by reducing individual expenses on shared items or services, such as rent, utilities, groceries, and transportation, allowing each person to pay a smaller portion of the total cost. I usually recommend doing this with a family member, relative, or a good friend.

4. Learn independence skills.

Learning independence skills saves money by reducing the need to pay for services such as repairs, cooking, and cleaning, allowing you to handle tasks yourself and avoid outsourcing costs.

5. Maintaining a budget.

Having a budget keeps your spending in check and makes sure that your savings are on track for the future. Budgeting can help you set long-term financial goals, keep you from overspending, help shut down risky spending habits, and more.

6. Practice no-spend days.

It refreshes a budget and prioritizes “needs” over “wants.”Try to not spend money for a set period of time, like a week or a month. Soon enough, you would have control on overspending, changed your financial management habits, and saved extra money.

7. Buy frozen vegetables.

Frozen vegetables are usually picked, processed and frozen on the same day, to preserve freshness. Unless you can guarantee your fresh vegetables are that fresh, you are just adding days of starchy conversion to your otherwise fresh vegetables.

HOPE THIS HELPS 💝

[love-quinn]

—PEACE OF MIND

summary — when carmen finds out that you're putting yourself in danger to come in to your waitressing job at the bear, he admittedly gets pissed. he's not super proud of his reaction, but the two of you manage to work something out to ease his worries.

warnings — swearing, mentions of customers being assholes, the implication that if reader isn't being fed at the restaurant she doesn't eat due to money reasons, very brief mentions/implications of the possibility of reader being attacked at night

pairing — carmen berzatto x fem!waitress reader, not established relationship

pronouns — she/her, reader is HEAVILY implied to be female, also there's technically no pronouns in this one but i consider this to be the same waitress reader as my last one which does have pronouns

word count — 1.9k

note — this can 10000% be read as a standalone but i do have another carmy x waitress fic here that i think takes place kinda in the same universe if you wanna check that one out?? i hope u enjoy <333

If you were somebody who wasn’t a fan of the cold, then Chicago wasn’t the city for you. It’s one of your least favourite parts of living in Illinois, having to wear four layers to bed if you don't want to freeze in your sleep. Your apartment doesn’t have proper heating because proper heating is for rich people, apparently. You barely make enough to afford rent as it is. 

You’re doing fine. You make rent and utilities, you eat lunch and dinner at the restaurant most days. You’re not swimming in gold coins by no means, but you’re fine. That’s the reason you show up early to every single shift, if you’re being honest, you’re guaranteed at least a sandwich. 

The fact that it makes you look like a dedicated employee doesn’t hurt either.

Even when you have to trek from the train platform after getting off the L. You’re not the first person punching in the code to the service entrance that afternoon, but the kitchen is free of yelling. Sydney’s at the end of the line, it’s her shift for Family, and she flashes you a smile as you shove your duffel into your locker.

It’s not raining outside but the air is so cold and damp outside, and you dab your face with a towel. The kitchen is so much warmer than outside that for a moment it’s uncomfortable. Sydney watches you out of the corner of her eye as she sautes a collection of vegetables. “Are you alright? Is it wet out there?”

You shake your head, grabbing your apron and using the mirror you hung up on the back of your door to fix your appearance. “Just cold, sorry. I’ll be fine. You get in okay?”

Sydney nods, holding out a spoon for you, hand cupped to prevent anything from landing on the floor. You don’t question it, opening your mouth and accepting the sauce while trying to minimise the contact between your mouth and the spoon as much as possible. “Fuck, that’s good. Is there sesame oil in there?”

You didn’t know a whole lot about food if you were honest, there’s a reason that you’re not a member of the kitchen staff. But Sydney’s been teaching you slowly but surely how to recognise different flavours, which ones go best together, which ones don’t.

Her eyes light up. “Yes! You like it?”

You shut your locker, moving to stand right behind her. Your chin lands on her shoulder, watching the way she rotates her medley of ingredients. You and Sydney have started becoming actual friends rather than just work friends, the two of you went out to dinner last Sunday, miraculously neither of you had to work. “Love it, need any help?”

“No, you’re all good. Go find Richie, I’m sure he needs help with whatever shit he’s doing.”

You leave her alone with a squeeze on the elbow, heading out into the dining room to find Richie. Richie isn’t out there but you do find Carmen pulling the chairs off the tables. You don’t bother talking, you and Carmen both appreciate the quiet in a workplace as loud as the restaurant. The second you put the first chair down Carmen is flinching. “You’re early,” he says, trying not to show his irritation.

He’d left the kitchen to feel productive while being alone, but he doesn’t want to yell at you. You deal with that enough. Yelling in the kitchen is natural, it’s fucking loud in there. If he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t get heard. People aren’t moving fast enough, people aren’t using proper technique, they’re running out of ingredients, things are being moved. If Carmen didn’t yell in the kitchen it would probably burn down somehow.

You deal with all that and you have to keep a smile on your face. You get yelled at for mistakes that other people make, and you never yell back. You take it all and yeah, sometimes you need to step out into the kitchen with tears in your eyes, but you cop it all and you go back out there.

You don’t need Carmy yelling at you as well.

You shrug casually, smoothing the tablecloth. “I am a slave to the public transit system.” It’s less embarrassing than admitting you’re trying to save money by eating at work whenever you can. 

Carmen stops at that. He doesn’t know why that’s surprising to him. He’s always here before you and he’s always here after you leave. He assumed he’d never seen your car in the parking lot because of that, but apparently, it’s because you don’t have one. “You took the train here?”

It’s early afternoon and people are turning their headlights on already. The closest train station is a fair walk away and it’s freezing out there. 

You nod, not taking much notice of the change in tone. “Yeah, I usually do.”

Carmen’s abandoned the table he’s dressing to turn around and look at you. It’s almost completely dark outside, it’s the middle of winter. “You walk to work?”

You look up at him. “Yeah, Carm.” You’re really hoping he’ll drop it, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on the way you avoid looking at him. 

“That’s so fucking dumb,” he doesn’t mean to snap, but the mood in the room is frozen now. “It’s like two degrees out there, why the fuck would you do that?” You regret coming out to help him. Usually, this stuff is already done by the time you show up to work, early as usual. 

You put down the last chair at the table you’re working on and brush off your apron. “It’s not like I have any other choice, Carmen,” you’re trying to keep your voice even. The dining room is empty, it’s still, and it feels much more awkward than having the conversation anywhere else would’ve felt. “I don’t really have many other options.” 

You look around the dining room and decide that leaving Carmen to finish setup isn’t an awful fate. 

“Yes, you do!” He doesn’t drop it. His fists are clenched at his side to stop him from flinging his arms up in frustration. “You have so many other options! Why did you pick the fucking stupid one?” You can handle being yelled at. It’s a part of the job. It happens to you every single day without fail. You can handle it.

That doesn’t mean that you have to take it from Carmen, though.

“Stop it,” you don’t raise your voice at him, but you’re not quiet either.

“I just don’t fucking get it,” he huffs. Once he’s started he can’t make himself stop. 

You sigh, loudly. “Yeah, I’m not asking you to, Carmen. Okay, but don’t treat me like garbage because I can’t afford a car.”

That’s the final straw in the conversation with him, and you turn to go back into the kitchen. Maybe Richie will be playing Angry Birds on his phone in the office and he’ll let you watch. Carmen’s frown deepens. “What the fuck are you talking about? Who gives a shit that you can’t afford a car?” He dodges the table he was working on and rushes to follow you. He’s a lot less graceful than you always are with it and that’s without the tray of drinks. “Do you see that shit out there?” He stands in front of you now, pointing a heavy, tattooed arm out at the front window. “It’s fucking Chicago. You can’t be walking here in twenty fucking degrees, honey! Do you not get that? Look at you! If someone pulls a knife on you out there what the fuck are you gonna do?”

You’re frozen in front of him now. He’s throwing so much at you that you don’t know what to say. 

He’s going back to setting up now, but as he turns he blows out a breath. “Get that through your fucking head, yeah?”

That’s the part that frustrates you the most. He does this all the time, he presents you with ten different problems and no solutions. You don’t need Carmen to tell you how to live your life when you’re struggling as it is. “How else do you want me to get to work? It’s either that or you find a new fucking waitress, okay? So can we let it go? What the fuck do you want me to do about it, Carmen? ”

Carmen doesn’t want to let it go. You take the train in the fucking pouring rain and walk every night only to be yelled at by a bunch of assholes over steak. 

“I want you to not walk through Chicago in the middle of the night!” He’s exasperated. “Yesterday you left after eleven, do you know how fucking dangerous that is? Fucking… Fuck?” It comes out as a question. “Why the fuck have you been leaving me here at night to go walk home alone? What the fuck do you think I’m here for?”

You’re getting upset by the yelling, and now that he’s said everything he needs to say he can see that he’s making you visibly panicked. “I don’t know what you want from me!” You let out finally, words exhaling from your chest with force. “Just tell me what you want or stop fucking yelling at me!”

He says your name quietly, letting out a frustrated huff. “Fucking- Okay. Okay.” He runs a hand through his hair and has to bend at the waist, leaning on the table you just fixed up, head buried in his arms. He takes a quick three second breather, trying to force down the ugly bubble of anger that’s rising familiarly to the surface, ready to spill out of his mouth. “If we are at the restaurant together and it’s the middle of the night, and I have a car…” he pauses, trying to give you time to follow along after previously overwhelming you. “... and you don’t.” You blink over at him. “Why the fuck would you not ask me to drive you home?”

“Because you’re my boss?” The answer comes easily, and it almost startles him how quickly you respond. “What? Why are you asking me this?”

Carmen knows, deep down, that he wouldn’t offer the same courtesy to Marcus or Fak or god forbid Richie. Sydney or Tina? If they asked, sure. But he would never stand in front of them in the dining room to yell at them for not asking. He likes to think it’s because he knows you’re different. You don’t yell back, you don’t antagonise him, you don’t push like they do. You handle it, and you’re gentle and you’re soft and for some fucking reason the idea of anything happening to you makes him feel like he has just been mugged in the street. 

“Just,” he waves a hand in front of his face. He can hear Sydney calling out, probably something important knowing her. “Please, honey, promise me that you’ll let me at least drive you to the fucking train station? Okay? For my own peace of mind. How far away from the station do you live?”

You tell him and he’s immediately groaning. “No, alright. I’m driving you home.” He sounds frustrated, not mad at you, but less than pleased. You don’t take it to heart. “Now please, go back inside the kitchen and fucking eat something, you’re giving me an irregular heartbeat.”

[truth-has-a-liberal-bias]

But once the babies are here, the state provides little help.

When she got pregnant, Mayron Michelle Hollis was clinging to stability.

At 31, she was three years sober, after first getting introduced to drugs at 12. She had just had a baby three months earlier and was working to repair the damage that her addiction had caused her family.

The state of Tennessee had taken away three of her children, and she was fighting to keep her infant daughter, Zooey. Department of Children’s Services investigators had accused Mayron of endangering Zooey when she visited a vape store and left the baby in a car.

Her husband, Chris Hollis, was also in recovery.

The two worked in physically demanding jobs that paid just enough to cover rent, food and lawyers’ fees to fight the state for custody of Mayron’s children.

In the midst of the turmoil in July 2022, they learned Mayron was pregnant again. But this time, doctors warned she and her fetus might not survive.

The embryo had been implanted in scar tissue from her recent cesarean section. There was a high chance that the embryo could rupture, blowing open her uterus and killing her, or that she could bleed to death during delivery. The baby could come months early and face serious medical risks, or even die.

But the Supreme Court had just overturned Roe v. Wade, which guaranteed the right to abortion across the United States. By the time Mayron decided to end her pregnancy, Tennessee’s abortion ban — one of the nation’s strictest — had gone into effect.

The total ban made no explicit exceptions — not even to save the life of a pregnant patient. Any doctor who violated the ban could be charged with a felony.

Women with means could leave the state. But those like Mayron, with limited resources or lives entangled with the child welfare and criminal justice systems, would be the most likely to face caring for a child they weren’t prepared for.

And so, the same state that questioned Mayron’s fitness to care for her four children forced her to continue a pregnancy that risked her life to have a fifth, one that would require more intensive care than any of the others.

Tennessee already had some of the worst outcomes in the nation when measuring maternal health, infant mortality and child poverty. Lawmakers who paved the way for a new generation of post-Roe births did little to bolster the state’s meager safety net to support these babies and their families.

In December 2022, when Mayron was 26 weeks and two days pregnant, she was rushed to the hospital after she began bleeding so heavily that her husband slipped in her blood. An emergency surgery saved her life. Her daughter, Elayna, was born three months early.

Afterward, photographer Stacy Kranitz and reporter Kavitha Surana followed Mayron and her family for a year to chronicle what life truly looked like in a state whose political leaders say they are pro-life. [...]

[yandere-romanticaa]

As a request, may I ask please for a reader running away from the Fatui debt collector and ending up by getting caught by Childe ?

The strong regard in which the Fatui held their contracts in could almost rival the nation of Liyue itself. By signing your name on the paper you signed off your entire life away, perhaps even your very soul if the situation or person called for it. The Fatui were rolling in mora and their Harbingers were some of the richest people to ever grace Teyvat. Their bankers know what they are doing, no penny is ever left unchecked and all of the clients pay what they are owed, no matter the cost.

You were one of those unfortunate clients.

On paper, their professionalism was okay, maybe even great if you're delusional enough. But everything came at a cost and you realized that the Fatui were only ever interested in keeping their side of the contract intact.

After mysteriously being laid off your job and losing every earthly possession you ever owned, you were left with no options other than to turn to the Northernland Bank. Despite its somewhat sketchy reputation there was also a decent amount of individuals who were quite pleased with the banks services, which is exactly why you felt all the more urged to go there. Everything was going smoothly for the first few months. You managed to pay rent and get some other basic necessities in order such as food and clothes but you were still far from the safe zone. You never managed to pay your debts on time which made the clerk at the bank frustrated with you.

"We can be kind to you only for so long." she'd say.

"Don't make the same mistake again."

You promised her that you wouldn't and you intended to keep that promise.

Unfortunately, life almost never plays out the way we want it to.

After weeks of endless job hunts, no one wanted to take you. It made no sense whatsoever! You had no criminal record, were always diligent on your previous job and had no enemies. Whenever you'd have an interview the people behind the counter would always be quick to shush you and tell you that they could not take you in. The last place you applied for, a small flower shop, was so quick to turn you down that it should be considered the world record. The moment you said your name out loud it was as if a switch was pressed and the owner switched gears entirely. Her demeanor went from calm and sweet to anxious and downright terrified as her entire body started shaking. She was beyond forceful as she shoved you out the door and told, no, begged you to not come back, ever.

In those brief moments you shared with the woman she became fear personified. You never understood why but right now that didn't matter.

Not when Fatui agents were pursuing you in the darkness of the night.

They were like the harrowing winter wind, sharp and swift. They barged into your home and demanded you pay what you owed unless you wished for more serious consequences to take place. The hooded agent pressed his large blade against your neck and his fire red eyes tore into you, daring you to make a move.

He was not expecting you to actually do something, let alone kick him in the shin.

A cryo mage and a hydro skirmisher were hot on your tail but you managed to quickly outrun them.

Panting, you hid behind a large pile of wooden crates near the harbor. There was little to no light aside from the stars, providing you ample cover against your assailants. This wasn't unfortunately only an advantage for you alone as they too could make use of this darkness. Not only were you outnumbered but also found to be completely and utterly defenseless. With little to no combat training and no vision to speak of, this endless chase became more and more unbearable. Options were also limited - keep hiding and make a run for it outside of the city but risk getting chased all over the content or come out of hiding and face the music.

Neither option was good. Death was all but guaranteed. The Fatui did not understand the concept of mercy.

That was a sentiment that the 11th Harbinger knew all to well.

He watched you from a window, ocean blue eyes tailing after every single move of yours. His chin rested on his hand while the other toyed with a white glaze lilly that grew close next to him, the soft petals providing him a much needed source of silly entertainment. In his eyes you were this glaze lilly - gentle, beautiful. Easy to break. It took him no effort whatsoever to tear your life to shreds and keep you docile. Tartaglia was a little bitter how you did not remember him back when you were younger, which might be the reason as to why he is being so harsh right now. He always liked to play rough and the sight of you shaking made his blood rush with pure and utter glee. Everything was going according to plan and he could not have been more satisfied. A wicked smirk danced on his lips as he ripped the glaze lilly from the pot, its green stem now firmly in his hands. A wave of determination came over the young man as he let out a quiet laugh to himself.

As fun as this was, he was done. No more games, he was going to have you.

It was time to step into the heart of the action.

Like an acrobat, Childe leaped out of the window and landed gracefully on both his feet, the bow on his back firmly set in place. His fingers twitched in anticipation as he creeped up closer and closer towards you. He was so quiet that not even a mouse could hear him.

It really wasn't your fault for screaming so hard, he thought to himself. Anyone would have gotten scared if someone just came up to them like that. As a matter of fact, he even found it kind of cute!

The shrill screams naturally caught the attention of the people he told to hunt you down and in a flash they stood before the two of you, panting but ready for action. The measley subordinates were, unsurprisingly, startled to see a Harbinger out in the open like this, prompting them to immediately lower their heads and bow deeply.

You were too caught up in your own paranoia to hear Childe mumble a quiet "You are dismissed." command to them. You trembled, fat tears caking your face as the ginger turned to face you, a small smile on his lips. He scared you enough for now, hasn't he? Reaching out towards you he held your quivering body, your face pressed deeply against his chest as you wept loudly. The grey fabric of his clothing soon turned a much darker shade due to the heavy tears but you could not care less.

Tired, you were so tired.

Despite having no clue to the identity of the man who held you so gently, there was absolutely no chance you were letting him go. You made your decision right there and then - snaking your arms around his thin waist you stayed like that as you let out everything out of your system, the pain, the fear and every other dark emotion which clouded your heart, all the while having no clue that your savior was the one who brought out all of this misery to you.

He could be a sadistic bastard, Childe knew this. He went too far in tormenting you and was most surely going to make everything up to you.

Right now though all he could do was sit on the ground and cradle you in his arms as his heart wept alongside yours, but with much different reasons than yours. He was a walking paradox, both the tormentor and the savior. All in due time though, you would grow to love it.

He would make sure of it.

🥀 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @yumekos-gamble, @mayulli, @cc-6789, @saturnalya, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss

[terriwriting]

Hi. My name is Terry and I went into debt during the pandemic lockdowns. Some of it was because I had to break a lease to escape a building the landlords were turning into a slum (elevator was broken for nearly a year, roaches overran the place, next door neighbour was throwing coke parties all night). For a while things were okay, but then the rising cost of living and rising interest rates made that debt unsustainable. Now I'm lurching from one crisis to the next and I need to get out from under this debtload before it crushes me. Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

I actually owe over $10,000, but I have one Guaranteed Investment Certificate left over from years ago when I was able to save money. That matures in August and I've already made arrangements with my bank to have it applied directly to my debt. The GIC is for just over $7,000, which leaves me with $3,000+ to pay off somehow.

Currently I make just enough to cover bare minimums (rent, utilities, groceries) and if I can get extra shifts I can keep up on interest payments. But if I can't get those extra shifts or if I miss a shift I fall further behind. And sometimes I get enough to pay the interest, but I get it too late in the month to pay by the due date and still end up being charged a late fee. For a while I was making headway on the debt, then the cost of living went up and I was just breaking even. Then both the cost of living and interest rates went up and now I'm barely hanging on by my fingernails.

I have tried to make up the difference by cutting back. I've reduced my phone and internet services to the lowest levels available, and I try to keep my power usage to a minimum. Water is included in my rent but the area I live in is in drought conditions and water bills are going up. Property taxes are also going up in the region. My rent will probably go up at the end of my lease, whether I stay in this place or try to find a new one. Every apartment in this city is too expensive now, and my landlords have actually been comparatively reasonable in raising rent.

The cost of living has gone up too fast for me to keep up with, and I can't make my interest payments or reduce this debt on my own. Every small setback becomes a crisis, and I've made two posts here to cover things like vet bills and end of month bills. If I can reduce my interest payments immediately and reduce my debt over the next few months, I can get out of this spiral. If I can't, I'm going to keep tripping from one crisis to the next until I fall completely.

It's not all bad news. I have a couple of ongoing writing projects that might actually earn some money. My cats are healthy (thanks to everyone who donated to my previous fundraiser). And I have an apartment that is close enough to shopping and work that I don't need a car. I'd be doing alright if not for this debt. So: Everything donated to this fundraiser will go directly to paying down that debt, because it is the single biggest problem in my life and makes every other problem worse.

Thank you for reading this.

$100/$3100. Thank you!

[spoiled-milk]

dan heng as your roommate (modern au)

a/n: in compliance with dan heng’s five star release being yesterday here’s brainrot for my beloved also praying that those who pull for dan heng win their 50/50 or get him early (it took me 80 pity with guaranteed 😭😭). will be mia so i can farm more stellar jades for his weapon since he wanted to come home on hard pity

content warning: mentions of alcohol consumption, other than that none that i can think of. no mention of reader's gender

word count: ~1k words

you share a small apartment with dan heng. you used to share it with one of your friends, but a sudden job opportunity for them turns into you frantically finding a roommate to fill so that you’re not paying the full price of the rent next month

you find dan heng through one of your friend’s friend. March (your friend) knew someone with grey hair who then gave dan heng your details since he was looking for a place to live

you two officially meet at a coffee shop where you discuss rent, house rules, and the lease and you did not expect him to be hella attractive

rules are as follows: there’s a chore list on the fridge in the form of dry erase board, if bringing over friends you must let the other know before you bring them over, no going into the other person’s room without their knowledge, and keep hooking up to a minimum if possible or keep it quiet

at first he seemed like a quiet guy who wanted nothing to do with you which like didn’t hurt your feelings too much yk you just needed someone to pay half of the rent, but slowly he starts to open up to you and you have no problems opening up

usually you take turns cooking, but he’s come to realize you only know how to make is boxed food and breakfast foods, so after eating waffles for the 12th time that week he decides he’ll cook dinner for the most part

dan heng without fail will always give you the last piece of anything he makes. dumplings? you can have the last one. 12 pack of juice in the fridge? he won’t even go get more unless you drink the last one. you make brownies as a token of appreciation for him and insist you don’t want any and all of it is for him? you find the last piece tucked away in the fridge with your name on it

he makes it a point to do the dishes together. at first he argued that he could do it but after much begging from you, he allows you to help him rinse the dishes

this has become a nearly every night thing. you eat whatever dan heng makes then y’all do the dishes. most of the time you’re doing the talking, but it’s not exhausting to talk to him like you talk to others

you don’t know much about his past but he sure does knows a lot about your past. you’re sure march probably unintentionally spilled about your past, but you don’t really mind knowing it’s just dan heng. march has told you to ask him but when you do, he softly shuts it down

it doesn’t hurt your feelings of course. you understand that everyone has their secrets and no one is entitled to his, but it does hurt a little that he doesn’t seem like he wants to tell you since you thought you were getting pretty close as friends

oftentimes at the end of a stressful week, you find some movie on some streaming service and crash on the couch with snacks littering the coffee table. sometimes dan heng will come join you on the couch to whatever movie you put on, regardless of genre. rom com? he’s got his eyes glued to the screen. some environmental documentary about the gas leaks that effect a underprivileged community? he’s sat next to you nodding his head to the tv like a middle aged dad

most of the time you fall asleep in the middle of these movies and most of the time when you wake up in the middle of the night you either find yourself covered with a fluffy blanket or you find yourself in your bed with no memory of how you got there. you suspect dan heng carried you there, but you’ve never had the courage to ask him

there was one time when you woke up from sleeping in the middle of the movie and the tv was left on to the end credit scene. you reach for the remote next to you and turn off the tv. you start to shift a little but then you notice a weight next to you, it’s your roommate. he’s got an arm around your waist and he’s pulling you closer to him

you’re too tired to properly comprehend the situation so you let it happen. you lean your head towards his chest and end up falling asleep listening to dan heng’s heartbeat. when dan heng woke up that morning realizing what had happened, he could not look you in the eye for a week without blushing

he also takes care of you whenever you come home shitfaced from an outing or get shitfaced by yourself with 3 bottles of soju. it doesn’t happen often and you try not to drink often, but when you decide to go out, dan heng somehow knows that you’ve been out drinking and will always be at home waiting for your return

your friends drop you off at your apartment and dan heng helps you into bed. he takes a baby wipe and wipes off any dirt on your face. he’s so gentle with it that it honestly feels like a dream. you lowkey cherish it every single time, it feels so intimate that you wish he meant it in that way and not as just a friend

just as you’re losing consciousness, dan heng gets close to you but your vision is slightly blurring so you’re not sure what he’s up to, but you trust dan heng 100% to not take advantage of you

as you scrunch your eyebrows you feel something soft press against your cheek and then once again on your forehead. they’re brief and short, but you can feel your body get hotter and hotter, not even sure if it’s the alcohol or dan heng (or both maybe)

you pray that your big crush on him isn’t obvious but march tells you otherwise. so now you only hope that dan heng can’t tell but honestly it’s really hard to read his feelings, but you’re not sure how long you can keep up this “he’s just my roommate” act to your friends and yourself

[travelingmaster-inspirations]

"I want you on your best behavior girls. Is that understood?" I said.

"Yes Mistress!" they all said in perfect unison.

I smiled and went to open the door.

"Thank you for your patience Josh. Come right in." I said, stepping aside to let him in.

"Thanks!" he said. "Oh wow... You weren't kidding huh?"

"I rarely do." I said as I followed him to the bed.

"Ok I have to admit..." he said after looking at the obedient kneeling girls nervously. "This feels completely bonkers... Like... At any moment you'll all burst out laughing or something..."

"I assure you nothing like that will happen." I said, taking the time to move to the other side of the bed so I could stand next to Becky while still facing my client. "As we've discussed before, this is very real and my goal is to earn your patronage..." I said, letting my hand comb her short mane. "It wouldn't make sense to make fun of perspective clients now would it?"

"No I guess not..." he said, still visibly nervous. "But come on... You have to admit that what you are offering is kind of out there..."

"I prefer to think of my service as... Unique." I said, winking at him. "All though I'm sure you'll agree that pimping out pretty girls is hardly anything new."

"Right..." he said, swallowing nervously. "So... You are saying that I can choose one of these girls and... Huh... They'll be my girlfriend for 2 weeks?"

"For the next 2 weeks at least, I guarantee that the girl you pick... And pay for... Will believe with all her heart that she's your girlfriend... Mistress... Human pet... Slave... Which ever tickles your fancy..." I said. "As long as you take care of her basic needs and she comes back to me unharmed, she'll be ANYTHING you want her to be."

"And... Huh... They won't mind?" he asked.

"Of course they won't..." I said, caressing Becky's mane once more. "Or to be more precise... They CAN'T mind..."

"So you've mentioned..." he said looking back at my 3 smiling slaves. "But I'll admit I still have a hard time believing that hypnosis and brainwashing could really give you THAT much control over your friends..."

"Oh Honey..." I said, letting my hand follow her main all the way to her cleavage. "You don't have to believe in any of that to be able to enjoy the fruits of it..."

To make my point, I casually grabbed her top and pulled it down to expose both perky tits. As expected, Becky showed no sign at all that she registered, which had the intended effect of making Josh's jaw drop. I let him enjoy the sight for a few moments before lifting the top back over her tits.

"I... I guess you're right..." he said, swallowing hard. "Wow..."

"I can tell you enjoyed that..." I said. "And just think... If you rent out one of my girls, her tits will be all yours to enjoy however you want for those 2 weeks... In fact... ALL of her will be yours to enjoy... When ever... How ever you want..." I said, kissing the top of Becky's head. "I give you my personal guarantee that each of these girls have been extensively trained thanks to the... 'Cooperation'... of one of my rather largely hung boy toys. So you don't have to worry about anything you ask them to do because unless you're packing something overly excessive, these fine girls will be able to handle it without any issues."

"Huh... Boy toy?" he asked, looking at me.

"What?" I said straitening up with a coy little smile. "Did you think I only hypnotized girls? No my dear... I have my own little toys to play with outside of my side business and thankfully, it happened to come in handy when it was time to teach these girls all there was to know about pleasing the opposite sex. You wouldn't believe how convenient it is to be able to condition a man to only cum when I authorize it." I said, walking slowly around the bed. "Makes for incredible sex of course... But it's also incredibly erotic to coach my girls through their gag reflex when they use a real cock instead of a boring old dildo..."

"Wait... You can do that? I mean... Block a guy's... Huh... Release?" he said.

"Of course I can..." I said as I walked up to him. "In fact... If 'stamina' is a problem for you... I also offer help in that department..."

"Right... Huh..." he said, visibly uncomfortable with my proximity. "But I mean... If I huh... You know... Would happen to... Need that... NOT that I'm saying I do!"

"Of course..." I said, trying to comfort his obvious discomfort. "But then again... Having extra stamina to be able to enjoy all the pleasures of your rental does sound pretty nice... Right?"

"Right..." he said, swallowing again. "So... If I would huh... Be interested... Then... Huh... That means I have to... Huh... Let you hypnotize me and what not... Right?"

His gaze slid sideways to look meaningfully at my 3 thralls.

"Correct..." I said, chuckling softly as I placed a manicured finger under his chin, pulling his focus back to me. "You'd have to... Hmm... 'Let me' hypnotize you... You'd have to peer deep into my eyes and allow yourself to relax into them... Because you know that if you do... If you listen to my soft soothing voice and focus all your attention on me... I'll give you unending pleasure... Stamina in spades to properly enjoy the helpless thrall you are renting to fulfill your wildest fantasy... I know that's something you want... Something you wish for... Something you want to surrender to... Isn't that right Josh?"

It took him a while to process what I was saying as I watched his eyes slightly glaze over with fascination and lust. But as my low voice died down, his mind understood he needed to voice his desire.

"Yes..." he said softly, making me smile.

Dilemmas... Dilemmas...

Josh was clearly the type of man I could easily hypnotize and as it always did when I found someone like him, my mind thought up a million fun things I could make him do once he was properly conditioned and enthralled.

He was handsome enough, but very shy and awkward. The former was always a good bonus and the latter could easily be worked on as I brainwashed him.

However, I did have plenty of boy toys already and I was looking for income more than I was looking for new sources of pleasure. Which meant that it was better to keep my libido in check.

Even IF he was such a tempting target...

Or maybe...

I could see how far I can take him and slip in a few suggestions that would ensure he keeps coming back...

I didn't break eye contact, but my focus went to my 3 obedient thralls on the bed and I forced myself not to laugh because I knew that once he got a taste of one of them, he wouldn't need much convincing to rent them again...

Although a little reinforcement couldn't hurt...

Right?

[jrob64]

Pet for Rent, Chapter 1/4 (The Meet Cute) A CS Modern AU Story

For those of you who read "Sowing Seeds of Trust", you might remember that my dog Zeke had a starring role in it. To my great heartbreak, he died of cancer last June. When we rescued him, the shelter had named him Ernie, and he will be referenced with that name in this story.

Life without a dog proved to be very lonely, so at the end of August, we rescued another dog. The sad story of the dog in this story is what really happened to our new dog. He was named Norman and we renamed him Winston, just like in the story. That's actually him in the pic set with his 'ducky'.

This was supposed to be a short, sweet story, but somehow turned into 4 chapters. Updates will be once a week.

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom and also to @beckettj and @zaharadessert for helping me understand the football (soccer) system in England.

SUMMARY: Emma Swan tries to cheer up her heartbroken son by 'renting' a dog from the local animal shelter. When she attempts to do it a second time, she makes a mistake, and realizes the dog has been rented by someone else the same day - a very handsome man named Killian Jones.

RATING: M (for smut in the last chapter, which can easily be skipped if that's not your thing)

WORDS: 7754

ALSO POSTED TO A03 & FFN

Story begins under the cut

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma Swan flopped down onto her sofa with a sigh. Since their beloved dog Ernie died three weeks ago, she had come to dread her eight-year-old son Henry’s bedtime. Every night when he said his prayers, he ended with, “God, please tell Ernie I love him and miss him, and please send me another dog. Amen.”

Her son knew the chances of getting a dog were slim to none because of his soccer practices and games, and Emma’s schedule for her new job at the sheriff’s station. They had no time to train a puppy.

Understanding why he couldn’t have a dog didn’t make his heart hurt any less. Her heart was just as broken, knowing the sadness and loneliness Henry was experiencing.

After decompressing for a few minutes, Emma’s searching hand located her phone on the end table. She unlocked it and opened her Discord app, selecting the icon representing the parents’ group of Henry’s second grade class. Sitting up a little straighter, she typed a message: Does anyone have ideas of how to help Henry get over the loss of his dog? He keeps praying for a new one, but it wouldn’t be fair to the dog to get one with our busy schedule.

She watched the screen intently for a couple of minutes, but when no names appeared to show that someone was answering, she tossed the phone onto the couch and went into the kitchen to load the dishwasher.

Forty minutes later, after cleaning up the kitchen, going through her nightly routine and changing into her pajamas, she went back into the living room. Television held no interest for her, and realizing she finished her last library book the previous evening, she picked up her phone to mindlessly play a game. Upon unlocking it, her screen opened to the Discord page and she saw three replies to her question.

The first two simply expressed sympathy for the loss of Ernie, but the third one offered a helpful suggestion. Have you thought about ‘renting’ a dog for a day? The animal shelter just outside of town offers that option. We did it for my mother when her Maltese died. The post ended with the web address for the shelter.

Emma immediately pulled up the site and, after searching the homepage, clicked on the tab for ‘services’. Scrolling down the list, she saw ‘Rent-a-Pet’ and selected it. As she read the description of how the program worked, she idly twisted strands of blonde hair around her index finger.

It sounded like a great compromise for their situation. For a donation to the shelter in the form of money, bags of pet food, treats or toys, one of the available animals could come home with them for several hours. The dogs and cats were guaranteed to be docile and house-trained, and could be adopted by the ‘renter’, if desired.

Clicking on the link taking her to the bios of the pets currently housed at the shelter, she filtered it to include only canines. Pictures of nearly two dozen dogs filled the screen, each more adorable and aww-worthy than the last.

Quickly ruling out any that were guaranteed to shed fur all over her house or were bigger than her son, her search was narrowed to nine prospects. She knew her rambunctious son would be keen to play outside with the dog and walk him or her to Storybrooke’s dog park, so a tiny fru-fru pup was out of the question, too. That left six.

She selected one at a time, reading about their breed and temperament. When she brought up the picture of the fourth candidate, the big, chocolate brown eyes and happy expression nearly made her heart melt.

‘Norman’ was a mixed breed and very little was known about him, because he was found tied to a stop sign in the middle of Portland, Maine. He was guessed to be a cocker spaniel mix and was approximately 1-2 years old. His black fur looked sleek and Emma knew he probably wouldn’t shed. A short video showed him romping and playing with another dog in the fenced play yard of the shelter.

Saving the page, she brought up the calendar on her phone and checked their schedule for the rest of the week. Henry had an early soccer game on Saturday, which would be over by 10:30, leaving the rest of the morning and afternoon free. Switching back to the shelter website, she hit the ‘Rent-a-Pet’ button again and began filling in the information, selecting ‘Norman’ when it gave her the choice of animals.

She decided not to tell Henry about the plan, opting to surprise him with it instead.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

“Great game, kid,” Emma complimented her son, ruffling his sweaty hair. “Your pass to Avery was a nice assist. That goal turned out to be the game winner.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Henry grinned around his mouthful of granola bar. “That’s the first time all season we beat the orange team.”

“I know, and I think that calls for a celebration, don’t you?” Emma fished her car keys out of her jeans pocket, before picking up her lawn chair and water bottle.

“Are we gonna get ice cream?” he asked, before cramming the rest of his snack into his mouth.

“You just ate a granola bar and a banana, and lunch will be in just an hour or so,” she laughed. “I have something else in mind.”

“Whaisit?” he queried, the unswallowed food muffling his voice.

“Well, I know how much you miss Ernie, and Violet’s mom told me about a program at the animal shelter that lets you rent a pet for a few hours,” she answered slowly, watching his reaction out of the corner of her eye. “So, I signed up to get a dog for you to play with until three o’clock this afternoon.”

Henry stopped in his tracks, swallowing down the rest of his snack as his eyes grew wide. “Really? You can do that?”

“Yeah, we’re scheduled to pick him up at eleven. What do you think about that?”

His exuberant shout of joy and sprint to the car was all the answer she needed.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma couldn’t keep up with her son once he unstrapped his safety belt, exited the car and bounded toward the front door of the shelter. He was already ringing the little bell on the counter for service before she made it inside and chided him lightly for not waiting for her.

A tall, broad-shouldered man with sandy hair and light blue eyes entered through a door, the barking of dogs stifled when it clicked shut behind him. He gave them a dazzling smile and greeted them warmly with a hearty ‘good morning’.

Emma reached forward to shake his hand. “Hi, I’m Emma Swan and this is my son, Henry.”

“David Nolan,” he responded, shaking her hand, then doing the same with Henry.

“My teacher’s name is Mrs. Nolan, the same as yours,” the boy told him.

“You wouldn’t happen to be in second grade at Storybrooke Elementary, would you?” David asked.

“Yeah,” Henry confirmed.

“Ah, well, that means your teacher is my wife!”

“Wow, cool!” Henry exclaimed. “She’s the best teacher I ever had!”

David’s grin grew even wider. “That’s good to hear. She tells me all about her students every evening and she thinks yours is the best class she’s ever had!”

“It’s quite a coincidence, meeting you here,” Emma commented with a smile.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mary Margaret I met the two of you. Now, what can I do for you today?”

Emma pulled her phone out of her purse, unlocked it, and tapped on the screen a few times. Then she laid it on the counter and turned it to show David. “I signed up for the Rent-a-Pet program. Here’s the email with my confirmation.”

David peered down at the screen and used his finger to scroll down a bit. “I see you chose Norman,” he commented, looking up at her.

“Um, yeah. Is he a good dog? I don’t want any messes in my house or car.”

“He’s a great dog,” he assured her, reaching back to the wall behind him to lift a leash off of a hook. “Gets along well with other dogs, seems to love kids, and is generally a very happy little guy.”

Henry bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Can we take him to the dog park? Ernie always loved going to the dog park.” His countenance dropped, a small cloud of sadness passing across his features.

David shared an understanding look with Emma. “Of course you can take him. I’m sure he will love it! Would you like to come back with me to get him?”

The boy turned to look at his mother. “Can I?”

“Sure, kid. I think I’ll come back, too, if Mr. Nolan doesn’t mind.”

“The more, the merrier,” David said cheerfully.

He waited until they joined him on the other side of the counter, then opened the door to the large room full of animal cages. Immediately, the sound of barking, howling and meows filled their ears.

“They get very excited when they know someone is coming back here. I think the animals closest to the door are spies and tell the others,” David joked, raising his voice to be heard over the din.

Emma walked behind Henry, watching him turn his head left and right to peer at the occupants of all of the pens.

“Aw, Mom, look at that little puppy! He’s so cute! Aw, that dog seems sad. I bet he doesn’t like being in a cage. Look Mom, they have cats here, too.” His litany was continuous as they slowly walked down the aisle between the enclosures.

Finally, David stopped in front of a pen and turned to them, gesturing toward the dog inside. “This is Norman. He has a sad story, but he’s kept his sweet temperament, haven’t you, boy?”

As if in answer, the black dog stood up, his tail starting to wag as he realized the man was talking about him. Henry dropped to his knees in front of the cage, placing his hands against the wire. “Hi, Norman! My name is Henry. Would you like to come home with us for a little while?” The dog’s tail was wagging so fast, his entire body wiggled. “I think he understands me, Mom!” Henry said excitedly.

As David slipped inside the pen to clip the leash to Norman’s collar, Emma asked, “Has he ever been rented before?”

“Several times,” David answered, straightening up once he had the leash attached. “He’s always done really well.” Opening the door of the kennel again, he allowed the dog to go ahead of him, out to where the boy still knelt.

“Hi, boy,” Henry crooned, running his hands over the dog’s head.

Emma bent down and stroked the sleek fur on Norman’s back and sides. “He’s so soft,” she commented.

“He appears to have the coat of a cocker spaniel,” David said, “but he’s definitely a mixed breed.” He watched the boy and dog interact for a few seconds before holding out the looped end of the leash. “Would you like to lead him out to the lobby, Henry?”

He looked up at Emma with hopeful eyes. “Is that okay, Mom?”

“How is he on a leash?” she asked David. “He won’t pull my kid’s arm out of the socket, will he?”

David laughed. “He does fairly well, but if he gets excited, he can get pretty rambunctious. He’ll be fine just going to the lobby, but you might have to walk him out to your car instead of Henry.”

“Sounds like a deal, kid,” she said, giving him a nod of approval.

Henry eagerly accepted the leash and started off down the aisle. “Come on, Norman. Come on, boy. You’re gonna like it at our house. We still have some of Ernie’s toys and balls.”

Emma and David trailed behind. “How long ago did you lose your dog?” he asked.

“Almost a month and Henry is really struggling with it. He and Ernie were best buds.”

“I’m sorry. That’s rough, especially for a kid.”

“And his mom,” Emma added. “I never realized how much I loved that dog, until he got sick and I knew we were going to lose him.”

“Hopefully, Norman will give you both a few hours of enjoyment and help ease the heartache a bit,” David said, before hurrying forward to pull the door open for Henry and the dog.

While David printed off the paperwork, Norman sniffed around Henry, who sat cross-legged on the floor, giggling when the dog licked his ears. “Ernie used to do that too, remember, Mom?”

Emma smiled down at him. “Yeah, you must have very tasty ears. Maybe you should start washing them better.”

“I won’t need to, after Norman washes them!”

She turned back to finish signing the papers. “It’s nice to hear him laughing again. He hasn’t done much of that lately,” she confided to David.

“I think this will be good for both of you and Norman. He really likes being around people. I’m very surprised he hasn’t been adopted yet.”

“Do you think there’s a reason for that?”

David shrugged. “This tends to be a slow time of the year for adoptions. Summer is over and school is back in session, so people don’t have as much time to welcome a new dog into their house.”

“That’s the boat we’re in right now,” Emma commented.

“Once it gets closer to Christmas, people will come in looking for pets to give as gifts. That’s good, but also bad, because about a quarter of them are brought back when they realize a pet is more work than they anticipated.”

“We got Ernie from the shelter when Henry was two. He was already five years old, house-trained and had all of the annoying puppy behaviors out of his system.”

“Most people want puppies instead of adult dogs, but there are a lot of advantages to getting an older dog.”

“Norman doesn’t seem to be very old.”

“I’d say at least two, but he’s pretty chill. Once he runs out of energy, he becomes a couch potato.” David collected the paperwork and tapped it on the counter to straighten it. “Well, that’s all I need from you. Norman is yours until three o’clock.”

“Yay!” Henry shouted, causing the dog to start barking.

Emma reached down to take the leash. “Don’t get him all riled up right before we put him in the car, kid.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Henry apologized. “I just can’t wait to get him home! Can he sit in the back with me?”

“Sure, but first you need to thank Mr. Nolan.”

Henry popped up from the floor and looked back at David. “Thanks, Mr. Nolan! I’ll take good care of Norman, I promise!”

“My pleasure, Henry. Have fun!” David grinned.

Mother and son exited the building, with Norman leading the way, tugging excitedly on the leash. “Slow down, pup,” Emma laughed.

Henry ran ahead to open the door of the yellow Volkswagen Beetle, sliding the front seat forward and clambering into the back. As soon as Norman reached the car, he hopped in and sat on the seat beside Henry like he’d done it every day of his life.

“Well, that was easy,” Emma commented, removing the loop of the leash from her wrist and tossing it beside the dog. After closing the door, she circled around behind the car to get into the driver’s seat. She looked into the rearview mirror and choked up at the sight meeting her eyes. Henry had his arms wrapped around Norman’s neck with his eyes closed and his head resting against the dog’s.

Emma was sure the time with Norman was going to be good for both boy and dog, but she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when it came time to bring him back to the shelter.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Emma was barely able to get Henry to eat when they got home, and had to reprimand him for sneaking Norman bits of his sandwich. The dog, for his part, sat politely while they ate, not begging or whining. She was impressed with his behavior, remembering how she had to break Ernie from begging at the table when they first adopted him.

Henry and Norman bonded quickly as they chased each other around the small backyard, playing with a tennis ball and squeaky toys from Ernie’s toy basket. Emma sat on their small patio, thoroughly enjoying the sounds of happy barking and her son’s laughter. She pulled out her phone and took a picture, posting it to the Discord group and tagging Violet’s mom to thank her for the idea of renting a pet.

  Just after two o’clock, Emma suggested taking Norman to the dog park before going back to the shelter. They played there for forty minutes, then the three of them returned home and piled back into the car. Once again, she caught sight in the mirror of her son hugging the dog and sighed, but instead of dreading Norman’s return, she decided to enjoy every minute of happiness it was bringing to Henry…and herself.

Their time with the dog was over all too soon. After Emma parked the car at the shelter, Henry got out of the car and trudged to the door with the leash gripped tightly in his hand. Norman seemed to sense the boy’s mood and walked slowly beside him, his head hanging low.

David was at the desk to greet them again, an understanding look at his face at the dejected look of all three of them. “Was he good for you?” he asked.

“He was great,” Emma answered, rubbing her hand soothingly over her son’s back. “Wasn’t he, kid?”

“Yeah,” Henry quietly agreed, his eyes trained on the floor.

“You know, you’re welcome to rent Norman, or any of our other dogs, anytime you want,” David said.

Henry looked up. “But what if someone adopts him?”

“Well, that would be a good thing for Norman,” Emma reminded him.

“I guess,” Henry sighed. He knelt down beside the dog, wrapping him up in another hug. “I’ll miss you, boy, but maybe I’ll see you again.” The dog licked his cheek, eliciting a small giggle. Then Henry stood and held the leash out to David. “Thank you, Mr. Nolan. I had a lot of fun with Norman.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” David said, accepting the leash and moving around the counter. Patting the dog on the head, he added, “I hope we’ll see you again, soon.”

Henry turned pleading eyes to his mother. “Can we do it again next weekend, Mom?”

“You have Avery’s birthday party next Saturday, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Henry nodded, then bit his lip in contemplation. “The next weekend, then?”

Emma laughed. “We’ll see.” She leaned down to pet the dog’s head. “Be a good boy, Norman. You’re welcome at our house anytime.”

After saying their goodbyes, they watched David take the dog toward the door leading to the back. Norman turned and gave them a sad look before following the shelter worker through it, tearing at Emma’s heart even more.

She swallowed hard and said, “Come on, kid. Let’s go home.”

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

The sadness soon wore off and for the next several days, Henry talked almost incessantly about all of the fun he had with Norman. Emma checked their schedule and saw that Henry had another early game three weeks later, which would be the last game of the soccer season. She relayed that news to Henry, asking him if he wanted to rent Norman again that day, and was answered with a very enthusiastic ‘YES!’

She nearly forgot to make the reservation, only remembering three days before, while waiting to pick Henry up from practice. Quickly, she pulled up the website and filled out the form, glancing up often to see if Henry was coming off the field because she always liked to meet him as soon as he did, instead of waiting for him in the car.

Emma was especially glad they decided to rent Norman Saturday, since Henry’s soccer team lost their final game by one goal. His downcast look was soon replaced with excitement when she reminded him that they would be going to the shelter.

When they arrived, he bounded out of the car and waited impatiently for his mom to join him, before practically sprinting to the door. It took a couple of minutes before David emerged from the back, beaming a smile when he saw them waiting at the counter.

“Henry! Emma! I’m very happy to see you again!”

“We’re here to get Norman,” Henry said excitedly.

A puzzled look crossed David’s face. “I’m sorry, but Norman is already being rented by somebody else today,” he informed them.

“What?” Henry asked, a slight tremor in his voice. Then he turned to Emma. “But Mom, you said we would be getting Norman.”

Emma was already pulling the email up on her phone. “There must be some mistake, Mr. Nolan. I reserved Norman when I filled out the form. See?”

She turned her phone for the worker to see it. David looked at it carefully, then pointed to the screen. “It looks like you didn’t ask for a specific dog.”

“I didn’t?” she questioned, then looked at her phone more closely, her heart dropping when she saw the blank space beside the ‘requested animal’ inquiry. “Oh, Henry. I’m so sorry. I was in a hurry when I filled it out and I must have missed that question.”

“We have several other dogs,” David consoled. “I’m sure you’ll have just as much fun with one of them.”

“No I won’t,” Henry pouted. “I only want Norman.”

“Henry…” Emma started, but was interrupted when the door behind her opened.

“Good morning, Dave,” said a deep voice with a distinctive British accent.

Emma turned to see the newcomer and nearly swallowed her tongue. The man standing before her had to be a mirage, because surely someone that handsome didn’t really exist. He had a lean physique clad in dark jeans and a maroon henley, with a tantalizing view of chest hair peeking out of the unbuttoned neckline. A black leather jacket completed his ensemble. His chiseled jawline was covered with a pleasing amount of scruff and his dark, windblown hair was falling over his forehead. He sported a wide grin and, between that and his deep blue eyes, Emma was mesmerized.

She was suddenly very aware of her own appearance. Henry’s early game meant she had thrown on a pair of sweatpants, donned an old hoodie and stuffed a beanie over her barely brushed hair that morning. Her face was free of makeup, unless you counted a few stray flecks of mascara that stubbornly refused to come off when she washed her face the previous evening.

“Hey, Killian,” David greeted.

The man’s - Killian’s - eyes had settled on Emma, a glint of curiosity evident in them.

“Oh, um, come on Henry,” she said, after several moments of silence. “Let’s get out of this man’s way.”

“But Mommmm…” he whined.

Emma put her hand on his shoulder and guided him away from the counter. “We’ll figure something out, kid.”

“I’m in no hurry, Miss,” Killian began.

“No, it’s okay,” she hurried to assure him. “I’m afraid I created a problem that might take a while to straighten out, so please, go ahead.”

“In that case, thank you very much,” he smiled. Turning his eyes to David, he asked, “Is Winston ready?”

Emma was surprised to see the genial shelter worker furrow his brow at the other man. “Why do you insist on calling him that?”

Killian shrugged. “He looks like a Winston to me, and he answers to that name when he’s at my house.”

David glanced at Emma and Henry and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently changed his mind. Grabbing a leash off of a hook, he said, “Give me a minute,” then he pushed the door open and disappeared into the back.

“Are you adopting a dog today?” Henry asked Killian.

“Alas, no. I just moved into a small apartment here three months ago and am still trying to get everything organized and put away. Being in a new town has been a bit lonely at times, so I’ve been coming here now and then to borrow a dog for a few hours.”

“That’s why we’re here, but somebody is taking the dog I want,” Henry grumbled.

“Henry, that’s enough,” Emma reprimanded. “You haven’t even looked at any of the other dogs.”

“None of them will be as good as Norman.”

Killian’s brows raised. “Did you say Nor-”

Just then, the door behind the counter opened and David came through, trying to control a very excited dog.

“Norman!” Henry cheered, dropping to his knees. The dog started jumping toward him, wildly licking his face as soon as he reached the boy.

“I thought you said he was already rented today,” Emma questioned David.

“He is,” he replied, looking pointedly at Killian.

Emma followed his gaze and saw the other man watching the interaction between Henry and the dog with a sheepish look on his face. The pieces began to click together and she asked, “Wait a minute - is Norman the dog you’re renting today?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Looks like we’re here for the same dog.”

“But you called him by another name,” Emma continued.

“He’s the dog I’ve rented every time and he just doesn’t seem like a Norman to me, so I started calling him Winston,” Killian explained.

All three adults stood looking at the whirlwind of fur jumping all over Henry, who was giggling so much, he could hardly catch his breath.

Finally, Killian spoke. “It seems as though Win-, I mean, Norman, has made his choice. Please let Henry and…his mother have the dog today, Dave.”

“Emma,” she informed him. “My name is Emma Swan, and you don’t have to do that. You had him reserved first. Besides, Henry needs to learn he can’t always have his way.”

“I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my time with the dog, knowing how sad it would make Henry,” Killian responded. He took a step forward and offered Emma his hand to shake. “I’m Killian Jones, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma.”

As they shook hands, David cleared his throat. “Um, I have an idea of how to work this out. It’s a nice day, so why don’t all of you take Norman to the dog park together?”

Emma and Killian both whipped their heads around to stare at him. He seemed to shrink back a bit before stammering, “I mean, that way you could all spend time with him and get to know each other at the same time. You’ve been saying you’d like to meet more people in Storybrooke, Killian, and that’s where Henry and Emma live.” Looking at Emma, he added, “I’ve gotten to know Killian pretty well because he sings in the church choir with me and Mary Margaret. He’s a good guy.”

Emma slowly turned her eyes back to the very handsome man whose hand she suddenly realized she was still holding. She dropped it quickly, as she felt a blush heating her cheeks. Then she looked at Henry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with Norman sprawled across his lap. He was looking up at her with hope in his eyes.

Meeting Killian’s gaze once again, she asked, “What do you think?”

“I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position, Emma.”

“You wouldn’t have to go all the way back into Storybrooke,” David said. “There’s a small dog park at the end of the walking path, where a lot of people take dogs they’re thinking of adopting.”

“Please, Mom?” Henry pleaded. “Norman would like that, wouldn’t you, boy?”

Emma took a look at the pair and groaned, “It’s bad enough when you use the puppy dog eyes on me, kid. Now you’ve got the dog doing it, too.”

Killian chuckled lowly, the sound of it making Emma’s stomach flip in a very pleasant way. “I would hate to disappoint the two of them, so I’m game if you are, lass.”

Emma chewed her lip in contemplation for a few seconds, before saying, “Okay, but on one condition - you let me pay half of the rental fee.”

“I already paid the fee online,” Killian said.

“So did I, so I guess that takes care of that.”

“Not really,” David said. “You both paid, but you’re only renting one dog. I should reimburse each of you half of the fee.”

“Keep it,” Emma and Killian answered at the same time, then both laughed.

“The shelter can always use a little extra money, can’t it, Mr. Nolan?” Emma asked.

“Please call me David. And of course we can, if you’re both sure you don’t mind.”

As soon as they affirmed their answer, David walked around the counter and picked up the end of the leash. Handing it to Emma, he said, “In that case, Norman-slash-Winston is yours for the next four hours. You can bring him back sooner, if you like, but I’m sure he’s going to love getting out for a while. Oh, and if you get hungry, there’s usually a couple of food trucks near the dog park on Saturdays. Have fun!”

Emma and Killian thanked him, then went out the door with Norman straining at the leash, and Henry skipping along beside him. They quickly found the sign marking the path and started walking it.

After several paces, Killian turned to Emma and asked, “Is it me, or do you feel like David just set us up?”

“One hundred percent,” Emma laughed.

“How long have you known him?”

“David?” she questioned. At his hum of affirmation, she said, “Henry and I rented Norman three weeks ago and that was the first time I met him. David, I mean, not Norman. Well, it was the first time we met Norman, too. His wife is Henry’s teacher. Again, I mean she’s David’s wife, not Norman’s.” She knew she was rambling, but the thought of spending several hours with the gorgeous stranger was making her nervous.

Killian laughed. “That’s a relief. I borrowed Win-, uh, Norman three times and he never once mentioned being married.”

It was Emma’s turn to laugh - mostly because what he said was funny, but also in relief that he responded to her embarrassing prattling with humor, instead of judgment.

“So, if Dave just met you, he probably doesn’t even know if you’re married or dating anyone. That was a little presumptuous of him.”

“Are you fishing for information, Mr. Jones?” Emma teased.

“Killian will do,” he grinned. “And…perhaps?”

Before she could answer, Henry ran back to join them. “Can I take Norman, Mom? He’s walking really well on the leash, so I don’t think he’ll yank my arm out of the socket.”

She looked at Killian, who raised an eyebrow with a bemused look on his face.

“That’s something I said when we picked Norman up the last time,” she explained. Handing the loop of the leash to Henry, she said, “Don’t get too far ahead of us, kid.”

“We won’t,” he tossed over his shoulder.

Emma turned her attention back to the man beside her. “To answer your non-question Killian, no, I am not married or dating anyone. It’s just Henry and me, and always has been. When I told his father I thought I might be pregnant, he didn’t even stick around long enough to find out if I was or not.”

Killian absorbed this news for a few moments before responding, “If you don’t mind me saying, it sounds as if the two of you might be better off without someone like that, anyway.”

“Oh, definitely. Henry is more mature at eight than his sperm donor was as an adult. I was young and foolish, but I had to grow up fast once I became a single mother.” She watched her son trying to get Norman to walk beside him, then turned to look at Killian. “Sorry, that is a lot more information than I’m sure you wanted to know.”

“No need to apologize, Emma. I did ask, in a roundabout way.”

“So what’s your story? Did you move here from England, or am I misreading your accent?”

“You got it right,” he chuckled, then took a deep breath. “There was nothing left for me in England. My brother moved here soon after our mother died two years ago, and once I found out my girlfriend was actually a married woman, I needed a fresh start.”

“Ouch,” Emma commented.

“Aye, and now I’ve probably shared more than you wanted to know.”

“We’ll call it even, and promise to talk about much lighter subjects for the rest of the day,” Emma said.

“Deal.”

“You said your brother moved here. Does that mean he lives in Storybrooke?”

“Aye, he followed his heart and it led him straight to this quaint little town.”

“Who does he date, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He’s engaged to the town librarian, Belle French.”

“Liam is your brother? I guess I should have figured that out since your last name is Jones.”

“It’s a very common name, lass. Yes, Liam is my brother. I gather you know him?”

“Belle is one of my best friends, so I know him through her. She used to babysit for Henry quite often, when I was a waitress at Granny’s.”

“Ah, the famous Granny’s Diner!” Killian exclaimed. “I visit that establishment frequently. She makes the best lasagna.”

“I think you meant to say the best grilled cheese and onion rings,” Emma grinned mischieviously.

“I’ve yet to try those particular delicacies,” he smirked.

“Try them,” she advised. “I guarantee you’ll love them.”

Looking ahead, they saw they were nearing the dog park and picked up their pace. They caught up with Henry and Norman just before reaching the entrance. There were about a half-dozen dogs running around the park, some loose and others on leashes.

“I think it would be a good idea for Mr. Jones to take Norman before we go in,” Emma told Henry. “He’ll be able to control him better if he gets too excited.”

“Okay,” Henry said, willingly handing over the leash.

“Thanks, lad,” Killian smiled.

Henry went through the first gate, holding it open for his mom, followed by Killian and Norman. When they were all in the buffer zone, Henry opened the next gate leading into the main part of the park.

“You’re raising quite the gentleman, Emma,” Killian commented, after he entered with the dog.

“He has his moments.”

They all watched Norman as he began sniffing around excitedly, then pulling on the leash when he noticed the other canines sharing his space. He nearly yanked Killian off of his feet with his enthusiasm to meet new friends.

The next twenty minutes were spent chasing the dog and trying to settle him down. After a few of the other owners left with their animals, Henry found a tennis ball and engaged Norman in a game of fetch. The adults sat on a bench to observe the pair, laughing at the clumsiness of the dog.

Emma noticed Killian rubbing his shoulder. “Alright there, Jones?”

“I think he might have pulled my arm out of the socket, Swan,” he quipped.

“Very funny, smart guy,” she said, making him laugh again. They watched for a few more minutes before Emma asked, “Do you have a job in Storybrooke? I started working at the sheriff’s station three months ago and I don’t remember seeing you around town.”

“I’m an architect. I was able to keep my job with the firm in England by working online and attending meetings with clients and my colleagues via Zoom. All of my time is spent in my office at home. It’s not ideal, but I appreciate my boss being willing to make concessions for me.”

“Do you plan to get a job here eventually?”

“Aye, if I decide to stay.”

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“I’m used to the hustle and bustle of a big city. Living in Storybrooke has been quite an adjustment.”

“I get that. We moved here from Boston when Henry was two. Granny’s granddaughter, Ruby, was our neighbor there, and when she decided to move back, she talked me into coming with her. At first, I had a hard time getting used to the peace and quiet. That was one reason why I adopted Ernie - just to have a little more noise in the house.”

“Ernie?” Killian questioned.

“Oh, he was our dog. We had him for six years, but he died a couple of months ago.” She pulled her phone out of the pouch of her hoodie and swiped to reveal her lock screen. “This is a picture of Henry with him.”

“Beautiful animal,” Killian commented sincerely, taking in the photo of the brown and white spaniel. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Emma sighed, locking her phone and returning it to the pocket. “Henry grew up with him and he’s had a really hard time with it. Someone suggested renting a pet from the shelter to help him work through it, and that’s how we ended up renting Norman.”

“They seem to really like each other.”

“Yeah, they got along great the first time. That’s why I signed up to get him again, but I was in a hurry when I filled out the form and forgot to ask for a specific dog.”

“Ah, that explains the mix-up,” Killian remarked.

Another half hour passed while they chatted easily, until Henry came over and flopped down on the ground, quickly joined by Norman. “I’m hungry, Mom. Can we get something to eat?”

“Sure, kid. Put Norman back on his leash and we’ll go find those food trucks Mr. Nolan mentioned.”

They soon located the food trucks just down the sidewalk from the park. After discussing their options, they decided to get pulled pork sandwiches from the barbeque place. It was obvious that people who took their pets to the dog park frequented the food trucks, because each one had bowls of water set out in front of them and containers of dog biscuits on their condiment tables.

While they waited for their food, Henry tried to teach Norman to sit, rewarding him with pieces of the biscuits when he obeyed.

“He’s very good with him,” Killian noted.

“He prays for another dog every night, but our schedule is so busy right now. Plus, it’s such a big responsibility and I’m not sure Henry is ready for it. I might be wrong about that though, seeing how he is with Norman.”

After eating, they followed the sidewalk a little further and spotted a playground. Emma and Killian sat on a bench, with Norman sitting between them as they watched Henry play on the equipment.

“You know, we’ve lived in Storybrooke for six years and I never knew this playground existed,” Emma commented. “We don’t come this way very often, because whenever we go out of town, we take the road going south.”

“It appears to be fairly new,” Killian observed. “Perhaps they constructed it when they built those apartments over there, because they don’t look like they’ve been there very long.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. I remember when they were being constructed a couple of years after we moved here, which means they’re less than five years old.”

They lost sight of Henry for a few seconds when he climbed a ladder up into a tower. Suddenly they heard him shout, “Hey, Mom! Look what I found!” and saw him coming down a twisting slide with his arms over his head, clutching a tattered looking soccer ball.

He landed at the bottom and came running over to them. “Someone must have forgotten this at the top of the tower. Wanna kick it around with me?”

“Sure, kid,” Emma answered, hopping up from the bench. “It looks a bit deflated. Are you sure it’s even going to roll?”

“It’ll be fine,” he assured her. Placing it on the ground, he gave it a kick and watched it roll across the grass. “See?”

A black streak flew past him, with Killian following close behind shouting, “Wins-, I mean, Norman! Come back here!”

The dog ignored him, but stopped when he got to the soccer ball. He was trying to pick it up in his mouth when the three humans reached him. Killian was able to kick it away from him, directly to Emma, who stopped it with her foot, then booted it over to Henry. Norman ran from one to the other, in hot pursuit of the elusive ball.

The ‘keep away’ game kept them entertained for a long time. They ran, shouting instructions to each other and laughing until all of them were completely out of breath. Norman was able to intercept some of their passes, but they always managed to get it away from him before he was able to pick it up and run off.

Finally, Emma declared that she had to take a break. Picking up Norman’s leash, she said, “I think we should take him back to the food trucks to get a drink and buy a couple of bottles of water.”

“Aww, Mom,” Henry complained. “I’m not ready to go yet. Can’t I stay here? Killian will stay with me, won’t you, Killian?”

“First of all, you should call him Mr. Jones, and secondly, you’re putting him on the spot, which isn’t cool,” Emma admonished.

Henry looked appropriately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Mr. Jones.”

“Thank you, Henry, but if I may be so bold, I don’t mind you calling me Killian. That is, if it’s okay with your mother.”

Henry looked to his mom, who considered for a few seconds, then gave him a nod of approval.

Killian put his arm across Henry’s shoulders and walked him the short distance to where Emma was standing. “I’d be happy to go get the water, Emma.” He took the end of Norman’s leash from her. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” she agreed. “If you’re sure you don’t mind.”

While he was gone, Emma sat on the bench watching Henry continue to kick the soccer ball around. Killian and Norman returned a few minutes later, handed her a bottle of water and sat down beside her.

“Do I owe you anything for this?” Emma asked, unscrewing the lid.

“Not at all. I think I can afford to buy a lovely lass a bottle of water.”

She refrained from rolling her eyes at his use of the adjective, still rueing the fact she met such a handsome man while looking like she just rolled out of bed. As she was getting ready to take a drink, Henry kicked the ball and sent it sailing over their head, causing Emma to duck and spill some of the water in her lap.

Henry ran over, stopping in front of her. “Oops. Sorry, Mom. I was trying to kick it at the teeter-totter.”

Emma brushed at the water droplets, looking around to locate the teeter-totter, which was at least twenty feet away from the bench. “Not even close, kid.”

Killian stood up. “Perhaps I could give you some pointers, lad. I was a rather good football player when I was younger .”

Henry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I play soccer, not football.”

Killian chuckled as Emma explained, “Killian grew up in England and over there, soccer is called football. They call what we play ‘American football’, don’t they, Killian?”

“Aye, lass. Sorry to confuse you, Henry.”

“Oh, I never knew that. So, how good were you?”

Killian rubbed a finger behind his ear, ducking his head a bit. “I played in a semi-professional league for a couple of years and actually tried out for a professional club, before I decided to go to Uni and become an architect instead.”

“Wow! Cool!” Henry exclaimed. “You probably know even more about soccer than my coach!”

Emma laughed. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he knows a bit more than a volunteer coach for a youth league team.” She took the dog’s leash back from Killian. “Norman and I will sit this lesson out.”

Killian attempted to wink at her. “As you wish, Milady. Come on, lad. We’ve got work to do.”

She smiled fondly, watching the two of them passing the ball back and forth for a while, before pulling out her phone to catch up on her social media apps.

When she looked up a few minutes later, she saw Killian giving Henry instructions for controlling the ball as he dribbled it down the field. Apparently, they were using two trees as the goal and Henry was moving toward them quickly, while trying rather unsuccessfully to keep the ball under control. When he kicked it from quite a distance away, the ball hit one of the trees and ricocheted away.

Killian went to retrieve the ball and took it back to where Henry was waiting. He squatted down in front of the boy and began talking to him, gesturing now and then to different parts of the field.

Henry listened intently, nodding once in a while. When Killian finished speaking, he stood up and did a short demonstration of how to move the ball back and forth from foot to foot. Then he patted the boy’s shoulder, walked the ball further away from the trees and set it down.

Henry lined himself up behind the ball and looked up at Killian. After getting a reassuring smile from him, Henry started dribbling the ball across the ground with shorter, more controlled kicks, while Killian jogged beside him, shouting encouragement. This time, he got the ball much closer to the trees, before giving it a powerful kick that sent it shooting right between them.

Killian whooped as Henry raised his arms in victory, giving a triumphant cheer. What Emma saw happen next put a lump in her throat. Henry flung his arms around Killian’s waist, hugging him tightly, and Killian returned the hug, rubbing his hand over her son’s head as he looked down at him with a proud smile on his face.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

NEW TAG LIST:

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4 @hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling @andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27 @undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat @teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The (open) web is good, actually

I'll be at the Studio City branch of the LA Public Library tonight (Monday, November 13) at 1830hPT to launch my new novel, The Lost Cause. There'll be a reading, a talk, a surprise guest (!!) and a signing, with books on sale. Tell your friends! Come on down!

The great irony of the platformization of the internet is that platforms are intermediaries, and the original promise of the internet that got so many of us excited about it was disintermediation – getting rid of the middlemen that act as gatekeepers between community members, creators and audiences, buyers and sellers, etc.

The platformized internet is ripe for rent seeking: where the platform captures an ever-larger share of the value generated by its users, making the service worst for both, while lock-in stops people from looking elsewhere. Every sector of the modern economy is less competitive, thanks to monopolistic tactics like mergers and acquisitions and predatory pricing. But with tech, the options for making things worse are infinitely divisible, thanks to the flexibility of digital systems, which means that product managers can keep subdividing the Jenga blocks they pulling out of the services we rely on. Combine platforms with monopolies with digital flexibility and you get enshittification:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

An enshittified, platformized internet is bad for lots of reasons – it concentrates decisions about who may speak and what may be said into just a few hands; it creates a rich-get-richer dynamic that creates a new oligarchy, with all the corruption and instability that comes with elite capture; it makes life materially worse for workers, users, and communities.

But there are many other ways in which the enshitternet is worse than the old good internet. Today, I want to talk about how the enshitternet affects openness and all that entails. An open internet is one whose workings are transparent (think of "open source"), but it's also an internet founded on access – the ability to know what has gone before, to recall what has been said, and to revisit the context in which it was said.

At last week's Museum Computer Network conference, Aaron Straup Cope gave a talk on museums and technology called "Wishful Thinking – A critical discussion of 'extended reality' technologies in the cultural heritage sector" that beautifully addressed these questions of recall and revisiting:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2023/11/11/therapy/#wishful

Cope is a museums technologist who's worked on lots of critical digital projects over the years, and in this talk, he addresses himself to the difference between the excitement of the galleries, libraries, archives and museums (GLAM) sector over the possibilities of the web, and why he doesn't feel the same excitement over the metaverse, and its various guises – XR, VR, MR and AR.

The biggest reason to be excited about the web was – and is – the openness of disintermediation. The internet was inspired by the end-to-end principle, the idea that the network's first duty was to transmit data from willing senders to willing receivers, as efficiently and reliably as possible. That principle made it possible for whole swathes of people to connect with one another. As Cope writes, openness "was not, and has never been, a guarantee of a receptive audience or even any audience at all." But because it was "easy and cheap enough to put something on the web," you could "leave it there long enough for others to find it."

That dynamic nurtured an environment where people could have "time to warm up to ideas." This is in sharp contrast to the social media world, where "[anything] not immediately successful or viral … was a waste of time and effort… not worth doing." The social media bias towards a river of content that can't be easily reversed is one in which the only ideas that get to spread are those the algorithm boosts.

This is an important way to understand the role of algorithms in the context of the spread of ideas – that without recall or revisiting, we just don't see stuff, including stuff that might challenge our thinking and change our minds. This is a much more materialistic and grounded way to talk about algorithms and ideas than the idea that Big Data and AI make algorithms so persuasive that they can control our minds:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

As bad as this is in the social media context, it's even worse in the context of apps, which can't be linked into, bookmarked, or archived. All of this made apps an ominous sign right from the beginning:

https://memex.craphound.com/2010/04/01/why-i-wont-buy-an-ipad-and-think-you-shouldnt-either/

Apps interact with law in precisely the way that web-pages don't. "An app is just a web-page wrapped in enough IP to make it a crime to defend yourself against corporate predation":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/27/an-audacious-plan-to-halt-the-internets-enshittification-and-throw-it-into-reverse/

Apps are "closed" in every sense. You can't see what's on an app without installing the app and "agreeing" to its terms of service. You can't reverse-engineer an app (to add a privacy blocker, or to change how it presents information) without risking criminal and civil liability. You can't bookmark anything the app won't let you bookmark, and you can't preserve anything the app won't let you preserve.

Despite being built on the same underlying open frameworks – HTTP, HTML, etc – as the web, apps have the opposite technological viewpoint to the web. Apps' technopolitics are at war with the web's technopolitics. The web is built around recall – the ability to see things, go back to things, save things. The web has the technopolitics of a museum:

https://www.aaronland.info/weblog/2014/09/11/brand/#dconstruct

By comparison, apps have the politics of a product, and most often, that product is a rent-seeking, lock-in-hunting product that wants to take you hostage by holding something you love hostage – your data, perhaps, or your friends:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2021/08/facebooks-secret-war-switching-costs

When Anil Dash described "The Web We Lost" in 2012, he was describing a web with the technopolitics of a museum:

where tagging was combined with permissive licenses to make it easy for people to find and reuse each others' stuff;

where it was easy to find out who linked to you in realtime even though most of us were posting to our own sites, which they controlled;

where a link from one site to another meant one person found another person's contribution worthy;

where privacy-invasive bids to capture the web were greeted with outright hostility;

where every service that helped you post things that mattered to you was expected to make it easy for you take that data back if you changed services;

where inlining or referencing material from someone else's site meant following a technical standard, not inking a business-development deal;

https://www.anildash.com/2012/12/13/the_web_we_lost/

Ten years later, Dash's "broken tech/content culture cycle" described the web we live on now:

https://www.anildash.com/2022/02/09/the-stupid-tech-content-culture-cycle/

found your platform by promising to facilitate your users' growth;

order your technologists and designers to prioritize growth above all other factors and fire anyone who doesn't deliver;

grow without regard to the norms of your platform's users;

plaster over the growth-driven influx of abusive and vile material by assigning it to your "most marginalized, least resourced team";

deliver a half-assed moderation scheme that drives good users off the service and leaves no one behind but griefers, edgelords and trolls;

steadfastly refuse to contemplate why the marginalized users who made your platform attractive before being chased away have all left;

flail about in a panic over illegal content, do deals with large media brands, seize control over your most popular users' output;

"surface great content" by algorithmically promoting things that look like whatever's successful, guaranteeing that nothing new will take hold;

overpay your top performers for exclusivity deals, utterly neglect any pipeline for nurturing new performers;

abuse your creators the same ways that big media companies have for decades, but insist that it's different because you're a tech company;

ignore workers who warn that your product is a danger to society, dismiss them as "millennials" (defined as "anyone born after 1970 or who has a student loan")

when your platform is (inevitably) implicated in a murder, have a "town hall" overseen by a crisis communications firm;

pay the creator who inspired the murder to go exclusive on your platform;

dismiss the murder and fascist rhetoric as "growing pains";

when truly ghastly stuff happens on your platform, give your Trust and Safety team a 5% budget increase;

chase growth based on "emotionally engaging content" without specifying whether the emotions should be positive;

respond to ex-employees' call-outs with transient feelings of guilt followed by dismissals of "cancel culture":

fund your platforms' most toxic users and call it "free speech";

whenever anyone disagrees with any of your decisions, dismiss them as being "anti-free speech";

start increasing how much your platform takes out of your creators' paychecks;

force out internal dissenters, dismiss external critics as being in conspiracy with your corporate rivals;

once regulation becomes inevitable, form a cartel with the other large firms in your sector and insist that the problem is a "bad algorithm";

"claim full victim status," and quit your job, complaining about the toll that running a big platform took on your mental wellbeing.

https://pluralistic.net/2022/02/18/broken-records/#dashes

The web wasn't inevitable – indeed, it was wildly improbable. Tim Berners Lee's decision to make a new platform that was patent-free, open and transparent was a complete opposite approach to the strategy of the media companies of the day. They were building walled gardens and silos – the dialup equivalent to apps – organized as "branded communities." The way I experienced it, the web succeeded because it was so antithetical to the dominant vision for the future of the internet that the big companies couldn't even be bothered to try to kill it until it was too late.

Companies have been trying to correct that mistake ever since. After three or four attempts to replace the web with various garbage systems all called "MSN," Microsoft moved on to trying to lock the internet inside a proprietary browser. Years later, Facebook had far more success in an attempt to kill HTML with React. And of course, apps have gobbled up so much of the old, good internet.

Which brings us to Cope's views on museums and the metaverse. There's nothing intrinsically proprietary about virtual worlds and all their permutations. VRML is a quarter of a century old – just five years younger than Snow Crash:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/VRML

But the current enthusiasm for virtual worlds isn't merely a function of the interesting, cool and fun experiences you can have in them. Rather, it's a bid to kill off whatever is left of the old, good web and put everything inside a walled garden. Facebook's metaverse "is more of the same but with a technical footprint so expensive and so demanding that it all but ensures it will only be within the means of a very few companies to operate."

Facebook's VR headsets have forward-facing cameras, turning every users into a walking surveillance camera. Facebook put those cameras there for "pass through" – so they can paint the screens inside the headset with the scene around you – but "who here believes that Facebook doesn't have other motives for enabling an always-on camera capturing the world around you?"

Apple's VisionPro VR headset is "a near-perfect surveillance device," and "the only thing to save this device is the trust that Apple has marketed its brand on over the last few years." Cope notes that "a brand promise is about as fleeting a guarantee as you can get." I'll go further: Apple is already a surveillance company:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

The technopolitics of the metaverse are the opposite of the technopolitics of the museum – even moreso than apps. Museums that shift their scarce technology budgets to virtual worlds stand a good chance of making something no one wants to use, and that's the best case scenario. The worst case is that museums make a successful project inside a walled garden, one where recall is subject to corporate whim, and help lure their patrons away from the recall-friendly internet to the captured, intermediated metaverse.

It's true that the early web benefited from a lot of hype, just as the metaverse is enjoying today. But the similarity ends there: the metaverse is designed for enclosure, the web for openness. Recall is a historical force for "the right to assembly… access to basic literacy… a public library." The web was "an unexpected gift with the ability to change the order of things; a gift that merits being protected, preserved and promoted both internally and externally." Museums were right to jump on the web bandwagon, because of its technopolitics. The metaverse, with its very different technopolitics, is hostile to the very idea of museums.

In joining forces with metaverse companies, museums strike a Faustian bargain, "because we believe that these places are where our audiences have gone."

The GLAM sector is devoted to access, to recall, and to revisiting. Unlike the self-style free speech warriors whom Dash calls out for self-serving neglect of their communities, the GLAM sector is about preservation and access, the true heart of free expression. When a handful of giant companies organize all our discourse, the ability to be heard is contingent on pleasing the ever-shifting tastes of the algorithm. This is the problem with the idea that "freedom of speech isn't freedom of reach" – if a platform won't let people who want to hear from you see what you have to say, they are indeed compromising freedom of speech:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Likewise, "censorship" is not limited to "things that governments do." As Ada Palmer so wonderfully describes it in her brilliant "Why We Censor: from the Inquisition to the Internet" speech, censorship is like arsenic, with trace elements of it all around us:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMMJb3AxA0s

A community's decision to ban certain offensive conduct or words on pain of expulsion or sanction is censorship – but not to the same degree that, say, a government ban on expressing certain points of view is. However, there are many kinds of private censorship that rise to the same level as state censorship in their impact on public discourse (think of Moms For Liberty and their book-bannings).

It's not a coincidence that Palmer – a historian – would have views on censorship and free speech that intersect with Cope, a museum worker. One of the most brilliant moments in Palmer's speech is where she describes how censorship under the Inquistion was not state censorship – the Inquisition was a multinational, nongovernmental body that was often in conflict with state power.

Not all intermediaries are bad for speech or access. The "disintermediation" that excited early web boosters was about escaping from otherwise inescapable middlemen – the people who figured out how to control and charge for the things we did with one another.

When I was a kid, I loved the writing of Crad Kilodney, a short story writer who sold his own self-published books on Toronto street-corners while wearing a sign that said "VERY FAMOUS CANADIAN AUTHOR, BUY MY BOOKS" (he also had a sign that read, simply, "MARGARET ATWOOD"). Kilodney was a force of nature, who wrote, edited, typeset, printed, bound, and sold his own books:

https://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/books/article-late-street-poet-and-publishing-scourge-crad-kilodney-left-behind-a/

But there are plenty of writers out there that I want to hear from who lack the skill or the will to do all of that. Editors, publishers, distributors, booksellers – all the intermediaries who sit between a writer and their readers – are not bad. They're good, actually. The problem isn't intermediation – it's capture.

For generations, hucksters have conned would-be writers by telling them that publishing won't buy their books because "the gatekeepers" lack the discernment to publish "quality" work. Friends of mine in publishing laughed at the idea that they would deliberately sideline a book they could figure out how to sell – that's just not how it worked.

But today, monopolized film studios are literally annihilating beloved, high-priced, commercially viable works because they are worth slightly more as tax writeoffs than they are as movies:

https://deadline.com/2023/11/coyote-vs-acme-shelved-warner-bros-discovery-writeoff-david-zaslav-1235598676/

There's four giant studios and five giant publishers. Maybe "five" is the magic number and publishing isn't concentrated enough to drop whole novels down the memory hole for a tax deduction, but even so, publishing is trying like hell to shrink to four:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/07/random-penguins/#if-you-wanted-to-get-there-i-wouldnt-start-from-here

Even as the entertainment sector is working to both literally and figuratively destroy our libraries, the cultural heritage sector is grappling with preserving these libraries, with shrinking budgets and increased legal threats:

https://blog.archive.org/2023/03/25/the-fight-continues/

I keep meeting artists of all description who have been conditioned to be suspicious of anything with the word "open" in its name. One colleague has repeatedly told me that fighting for the "open internet" is a self-defeating rhetorical move that will scare off artists who hear "open" and think "Big Tech ripoff."

But "openness" is a necessary precondition for preservation and access, which are the necessary preconditions for recall and revisiting. Here on the last, melting fragment of the open internet, as tech- and entertainment-barons are seizing control over our attention and charging rent on our ability to talk and think together, openness is our best hope of a new, good internet. T

he cultural heritage sector wants to save our creative works. The entertainment and tech industry want to delete them and take a tax writeoff.

As a working artist, I know which side I'm on.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/13/this-is-for-everyone/#revisiting

Image: Diego Delso (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Museo_Mimara,_Zagreb,_Croacia,_2014-04-20,_DD_01.JPG

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/

[reniberries]

BARRACUDA . toji fushiguro

when your search for a job falls short for what feels like the millionth time in a row, you’re just about ready to give up until an odd proposition makes itself known to you.

chapter warnings: underground fighter!toji fushiguro, swearing, hurtful thoughts, lewd comments from men, mentions of drinking alcohol, smoking and drugs, attempted theft

total wc: 3.0k

— CHAPTER ONE . desperate measures

At this point, you wholeheartedly believed that the world was playing some kind of sick and twisted game on you.

It laughed at you, dangling the one thing you truly desired right in front of your face, only to snatch it away at the very last second, like taking a child’s favourite toy from them just as they’ve picked it up.

You were the child, so full of excitement and hope at the idea of starting new, being able to pick yourself off the ground, and the world was the adult who’d come into the room and decided you were undeserving of the toy in front of you. It picked up all that you desired, and placed it on top of a shelf that you were too small to get to.

Try as you might, you simply could not reach it. Well, metaphorically anyway.

In this moment, that’s exactly how you felt, clambering across the couch to reach your phone that had lit up with the notification of an unknown caller. Like every time before, you allowed yourself to feel excited. As though this was the very moment things would start to fall into place, and all the bad memories of the past would fade away as you paved the way for your new life.

And yet, you were let down, again.

The way your face immediately falls alerts your roommate, Sherri, to the conclusion of the phone call, hearing a repeatedly distinctive phrase that she knew you’d come to despise over time.

“I regret to inform you, but…” you’d hung up before the man on the other side had enough time to finish his sentence. The exasperated sigh you released from between your lips held a heartbroken tone, and all you could do was shake your head when Sherri quietly asks if you’re okay.

It hadn’t always been like this. Three months ago you were more than content working a few hours every week as a waitress in a small but well-known restaurant called ‘Alexie’s’, where you’d actually met Sherri, and although the management wasn’t the best at times, and you were sure the chef had a stick shoved further up his ass then you could’ve imagined, it was still something.

The job had given you something to do when you weren’t attending your nursing classes, or writing essays, and it worked like a charm at taking your mind away from your personal life when things went wrong.

Sure, some customers were complete and utter dickheads, expecting five star service and for you to wait on them hand and foot, but the majority of people were nice and the pay was more than worth dealing with some crappy person coming in and demanding you seat them and their eighteen other friends immediately, despite being fully booked.

You were heartbroken when the owner had set up a staff meeting to inform you and everyone else that the restaurant was unable to stay open.

Things had never been this bad before, and honestly, there wasn’t much you weren’t willing to do if it guaranteed you a job. Not when the cost of living had skyrocketed and all but royally fucked you over.

Sherri had been an angel throughout this situation you’d found yourself in, though you were slightly jealous the day she came back from an interview with the local supermarket, telling you how they’d happily hired her on the spot. She had been your rock to stick on while your life turned completely upside down, even going as far as offering to cover next months rent.

But you still needed to feed yourself each week, still needed to pay for the bus fare on your way into college, and even worse, you still needed to pay back the money you owed to your parents.

If moving back into your parents house was an option, you might’ve resorted to it considering how desperate things had become. But that wasn’t an option, and it never would be.

You couldn’t allow that to happen.

Not only was it impossible, seeing as they were living in an entirely different country, but you’d intentionally created that distance in order to get as far away from them as possible. Moving halfway across the world in order to escape them and their overbearing ruling that they held over your head was the first thing you’d done after graduating high school, and you weren’t about to go back on the promise you’d made to them that day.

Telling your mother and father that they would never see you again should’ve been heartbreaking. You should’ve been crying or screaming at them, and maybe, in a perfect world, they would have told you to stay, or that they didn’t want you to leave.

But again, the world was seldom perfect, and after the past few months, you truly were finding that fact out for yourself.

It was Sherri’s sweet voice that snapped you out of your daydream, still clutching your phone to your ear as you kneeled on the couch. “Why don’t we go out tonight? It might make you feel better.”

You let out another sigh, ready to shoot her offer down even though the suggestion was extremely tempting after the dreaded phone call, “Sherri, I can barely afford the bus right now, I can’t—”

She grinned before interrupting you, a sly look that you couldn’t decide if you liked or not.

“You really think I’d suggest that if I didn’t have a plan?” She raised a questioning eyebrow up at your form, “Lukah’s working tonight, do you know what that means?”

With a shrug, you settled back into the couch and pulled a blanket over your knees, staring back at your roommate and waiting for her to continue.

She leaned towards you from the opposite end, “free drinks!” She exclaimed, and moved her hands around as if her point had been obvious from the start.

“Didn’t he just start a new job though? We’ll end up getting him fired if he’s caught giving out free drinks,” Sherri giggled as if you’d said the funniest thing, and then her expression began to shift into something slightly more serious.

She hesitated to reply, and when Sherri got quiet, it could only mean trouble. “Well, the place he started working at, it's not exactly in the most... uh," it was if she was struggling to find the right words to say without scaring you away. "...Desirable of places, so he doesn't think his boss will care much," she finished with.

An eyebrow raised as you stared at her, wordlessly asking the short girl to elaborate. "It's in the Jujutsu District."

Ah, you thought, that would explain why she'd been slightly more reluctant to tell you.

The Jujutsu District was pretty notorious throughout the city, and especially with the younger population seeing as a large majority of clubs and bars could be found spread out around the area. You'd been a couple times, mainly to the small pubs that laid just on the outskirts, as most locals were well aware that it was smarter to stay clear of the place. It was no secret that the kinds of deals that typically went on out there were far from legal, though even the police had deemed the place a 'no-go zone' and were rarely seen patrolling anywhere near it.

But even you couldn't say no to a few free drinks after being so down on luck, and so, within a few seconds of dubiously nodding your head in agreement with Sherri, she was yanking on your arms to pull you away from the couch and into her room.

And within an hour and a half, the two of you had made your way out of the apartment hand-in-hand.

The club was filled to the brim, drenching you in a light sheen of sweat that glistened across your skin. Music blared in through your ears from every direction and created a dull ache that stretched across your forehead. You couldn't put your finger on the name of the song that was currently playing, although it brought an odd sense of déjà vu along with it.

Truthfully, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like going out with your friends. There was something so exciting about getting ready for the club and dancing the night away, smearing shimmery eyeshadow across your lids and lining them with a distinctive wing of eyeliner. The clothing you’d thrown on hugged every inch of your body, but it was hard to care about your slight discomfort when the edge of a glass was lifted to your mouth, lips lined and covered in a colour so signature to your look.

Lukah was a godsend, sneaking both you and Sherri drinks over the counter every time either of you walked up to the bar, and just like Sherri had said, it didn't seem like his manager couldn't give two shits.

Sherri grabbed your wrist after you placed the shot glass back down on the bar, void of whatever liquor Lukah had offered the two of you. Leading you over to the sea of bodies on the dance floor, you could barely hear your roommate when she said "c'mon, my favourite song just came on!"

It was borderline provocative the way you and Sherri danced together. Her back was pressed to the front of your body, arms lifted and wrapped around your neck, and the way your hips swung against each other to the beat of the music was enough to gain more than a little attention from the boys that littered around the dance floor.

Neither of you bothered to entertain those who tried to approach either of you. Either, they came on way too cocky for their own good, or were sporting some serious baby face, and that was enough for you to shake your head, waiting for them to do the walk of shame back to their friends.

One man had come up to Sherri and asked for her number, only to continue bothering her even after she'd told him no multiple times. After the third decline and narrowly avoiding his grabby hands heading for her hand, Sherri twisted her head around and planted a delicate kiss on the corner of your mouth, exclaiming loudly that she "couldn't wait to get home and get you alone," and that was enough for him to briskly walk away.

It was no surprise honestly, as not only did you look and feel beautiful, but Sherri looked like a supermodel in her little black dress and heels. Plus, you could admit that the male attention did help a little in lightening the mood you'd been in before the two of you left the house.

"Do you wanna get another drink?" Sherri shouted over the music.

You shook your head, "I'm gonna get some air, I'll meet you at the bar." She gave you quizzical look, as to question why. You lifted your hand out in front of you, a white lighter and pack of Marlboro Gold's held within it.

Making your way outside was much more difficult of a task than you had expected, shoving your way through the endless amounts of bodies that had filled the club, probably knocking a drink or vape out from someones grasp as you went on your way.

The cold November air caused a shiver to crawl its way over your barely clothed body after you exited the building, and it felt heavenly as it washed away the sweat that had started accumulating across your skin. A flicker of light shone against your eyes, along with the sound of flint sparking from the lighter held in your right hand and a deep inhale.

Several bodies littered outside of the club, some clearly had the same idea as you, cigarettes clutched between their two fingers as they chatted away to their friends, others were still waiting in line to be let in, ID's held out for the large bouncer to take a look at, and there was even a couple who'd clearly had too much to drink, snogging away in a corner as if they weren't in the company of others.

It was quite a surreal feeling, as you leant against the cold brick wall, bringing your hand up to your face to take another inhale of the stick held in them. Three hours ago, you'd almost been reduced to tears, feeling like the world truly had it out for you, yet now, you couldn't help but enjoy the dizzy feeling crawling up your spine, making you sway slightly.

Your problems hadn’t been solved with the sip of an alcoholic drink, far from it in fact. They would still be there to plague your thoughts tomorrow morning, even as you battled the headache you knew was coming, but at least in this very moment, as you let the tipsy feeling encompass your body, you could relax.

That feeling didn't last for long.

Just as you'd closed your eyes, smoke pillowing out from your parted lips, you felt a violent tug on the bag attached to your shoulder.

The stranger takes another pull on your right arm, causing you to drop the half-smoked cigarette onto the floor and the burgundy handbag falls out of your grasp.

“Hey!” Your voice is slightly slurred, an effect of the alcohol you’d consumed minutes prior, however the anger and small hint of fear is clearly heard in your words. It takes you a few seconds to register the tall man running away from you, clad in dark jeans and a hoodie pulled over his head, and your bag clutched in his hands.

Before you even realise what you’re doing, you start running after him. “Hey, jackass!” You repeat, “give me pack my purse!”

Your voice echoes through the street, yet it seems like everyone around you is too far gone to even notice or care.

Discomfort surrounds the heels of your feet, but it doesn’t stop you from giving up the chase as the man turns left into a dark alleyway. You’d chastise yourself later for the self preservation you seemed to lack in that very moment, completely ignorant to the dangerous connotations of following a strange man into a secluded area such as this, in the middle of the night. But that purse has everything you owned at the minute, your phone, wallet and any small amount of cash you currently had, and you couldn’t just let it slip from your arms.

He twists his head to look at you, as if shocked to see that you were actually following him.

It was at this moment that someone stepped out in front of him, and as soon as the thief got closer to the mysterious stranger, they threw their arms out and shoved him down to the ground.

Your bag went flying from his hands and onto the pavement.

Even from where you were standing, you could hear the thief’s harsh intakes of breath, winded from how hard he had hit the ground, and your saviour stepped over the man’s body.

He picked up your bag from the ground, slowly making his way over to you.

Finally, it dawned on you that while he had saved you from losing quite literally everything you owned, that didn’t make him any less dangerous than the man who’d stolen from you in the beginning, and as he stepped towards you, panic started to make its way up your spine.

“Don’t come any closer!” You screamed at him. His steps faltered, but he didn’t stop moving, “I have a knife!” You didn’t, and it was probably pretty obvious that you’d lied as his eyes raked over your body, searching for anything that remotely resembled a weapon.

You could hear him release a small laugh as he came even closer, holding out your purse for you to take. “I believe this is yours?”

Gingerly, your hands clasped around the strap, pulling it towards your chest and releasing a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” you said, and began to quickly check that everything was still left inside, untouched.

He watched as you did so, a dark, thin eyebrow raised in questioning.

It was here, as the moonlight lit up his face, that you got a good look at your saviour. He was tall, big enough to feel imposing as he stood several feet away from you, with long black hair that cascaded down his back in a way that made you slightly jealous. He looked down at you with some of the most alluring brown eyes you’d ever seen, almost hazel with the way the street lamps highlighted his face from behind you.

A kind smile lulled you into a false sense of security as he opened his mouth to speak. “What kind of idiot runs after a guy like that in the middle of the night?” His tone was teasing, coinciding with the smirk he wore.

“Well,” you snorted sarcastically, “everything I own is in this bag. If I’d let him take it, I wouldn’t have anything left.” Maybe you should’ve been slightly nicer to the man that had just saved your life’s savings, but at the moment you couldn’t take any chances, not when you were so obviously isolated from the main street that was littered with drunks, druggies and the like.

He laughed at your comment, but shrugged and held out his hands, as if to say ‘there you go’.

You let out an awkward cough, trying to fill the silence. “I’m, uh… gonna go now, my friend is waiting for me back at the club,” you held out a thumb to point behind you, as if he’d know exactly where you’d meant despite the several buildings behind you filled with dancing strangers.

He nodded without saying anything else, and you took that as permission to make your leave.

Just as you’d turned your back on him, started to make your way back towards the club, his voice rung out again and stopped you in your tracks.

“Maybe I could help you out.”

authors note: so, the first chapter of barracuda is officially finished! this is the largest piece of writing i’ve done in a very long time and while i’m probably being overly critical, i do think at some point i will go back and edit it once the series is finished! but, let me know how you feel about this and if you liked it! i am very excited to see where this story goes. reni xx

© 2023, reniberries. please do not copy any of my writing or repost to other websites.

[johannestevans]

what's wild is that like. i want to watch a movie. i want to watch it in HD, with subtitles, on my TV. is it streaming ANYWHERE? no. it's not even 10 years old. crimson peak.

oh, but i can "rent" it for £3.50 from a streaming service… OR JUST BUY THE DVD. FOR £1.50

you don't even get subtitles guaranteed when you fucking "rent" a movie - youtube never gives them to you! and even if you "buy" a film, whatever streaming service you buy it through might just edit or delete the film for laughs

ridiculous

[wandabear]

FINDERS KEEPERS (but keeps it forever) - WANDA MAXIMOFF X F!READER

ㅤㅤ

This chapter has some WARNINGS: some horror, suspense, angst and two huge big puppies.

ㅤㅤ Jules is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Here.

CHAPTER ONE 

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR 

CHAPTER FIVE

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCHAPTER 4

ㅤㅤ

Concern could be seen on her face but she said nothing. Just squeezed the steering wheel trying to bear all those feelings and thoughts that bubbled inside.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on… Say what you’re thinking. now” Y/N dared to say, looking out the window as they entered the forest following a rather lonely dirt road. They took the I-87 to drive almost three hours to the Catskills Mountains. After twenty minutes they reached an old cabin lost among the huge and vast trees.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, no. You don’t wanna know what I‘m thinking, Y/N.” Jules sighed and parked in front of the cabin, getting out of the car quickly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't answer, she knew very well that she screwed up by telling Wanda almost everything. Just took the huge and heavy sports bag that was in the trunk and followed Jules inside the cabin.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I rented the cabin for the whole weekend, I didn't want to seem so…obvious, especially for hunters.” She opened the door and coughed due to the dust, the lonely cabin hadn't been used in a while.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What? Really? Where did you find it?" Y/N frowned, it didn't look like a touristy cabin especially because of the dust on the furniture and some cobwebs in the corners.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Airbnb.” Jules teased, but seeing Y/N's worried face she just rolled her eyes. “Easy, I'm just kidding. An old ranger pal owed me a favor, told me that I could come here, he assured me of a safe place and well, this place is quite far from everything. This cabin has been out of service for five years, lots of rattlesnakes and cougars around the place. Too many wild animals.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We are not close to civilization by many many miles. Just woods. This is good…” Y/N looked around, quite surprised. “Why didn't we stay here earlier? Why did we have to go to Wyoming?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Here we are more exposed than in Wyoming. Hikers, tourists miles away.” Jules walked around the place, opening the kitchen door to inspect everything, only to find old empty cans. “A full moon? Sure. But many nights in a row? I can't guarantee that you will attack someone or that a hunter will find us while looking for a Wendigo.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Do Wendigos exist?” Y/N frowned and turned to see her quite surprised. “I thought it was just us and some old vampire over there.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't know.” Her friend shrugged. “We are werewolves. Nothing surprises me anymore."

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules came over to take the sports bag and look for some stuff inside it. Found everything she could to ensure that they would be able to spend the night safely, though nothing was certain.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“The guy who sold me this looked at me like I was buying something very kinky.” Jules took one of the huge chains, they weren't strong enough but she hoped they would hold them long enough. “Although with the right person… I would think about it.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Are you sure it's going to work? We never did this, it worries me.” Y/N swallowed, they never turned without being sure they would be okay.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules grunted, shaking her head.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, it would work if we were in Wyoming again but because of SOMEONE, we're still here because she can't let go of her fucking ex-girlfriend!” Jules finished muttering, definitely sensing the ferocity of the beast.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“DON’T START WITH THAT AGAIN!” Y/N temper finally blew up.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“THEN ACT LIKE YOU HAVE TO AND STOP WHINING!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

They faced each other and snarled, showing their fangs. Dusk was falling little by little, while the sun was hiding between the mountains, the wolf roared inside.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed deeply and closed her eyes, searching for the little serenity that remained in her. “I just don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You wont, okay?” Jules did the same and then rested her forehead against Y/N's.  “We won’t.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't want us to hurt each other.” The brunette whispered terrified. The thought of hurting Jules sank her heart deeply.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“We won't get hurt, okay? Let’s do this.”

ㅤㅤ

Taking a deep breath, both walked away to arrange the place as quickly as possible.  This was the first time they spent a full moon in a place they didn’t know, but at least they knew they wouldn't hurt anyone nearby… Maybe.

ㅤㅤ

Blocked the door with some old furniture, nailed the it and the windows too. The musty old basement had only a big old boiler that no longer worked, plus some shitty boxes with stuff that didn’t work.

ㅤㅤ

Minute by minute, they felt how the heat embrace and suffocated them. Y/N hurried so that they could chain each other and, finally, inject themselves with that purplish liquid.

ㅤㅤ

“This time it will be two doses of wofsbane, hope not enough to poison us. It will hurt more, but it's worth a try.” Jules swallowed, noting but fear in Y/N's eyes. Of course she was afraid too, especially since the wolves inside them were telling them not to.

ㅤㅤ

The hooting of the owls and the crackling of the trees, Y/N tried to focus on anything but the liquid her friend was injecting. Closed her eyes tightly, the pain was immeasurable. But for both of them that pain meant hope.

ㅤㅤ

Ten minutes later, they were both babbling on the floor, hallucinating due to the enormous amount of wolfsbane ingested. Drops of sweat fell down their faces, Y/N tried to reach out to touch Jules hand but it just fell off, due to how weak they were now.

ㅤㅤ

The girls barely smiled at each other, knowing that maybe they made it, when Y/N's face changed completely. Horror flashed across her face.

ㅤㅤ

“Jules…” she whispered.

ㅤㅤ

“Yeah?”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N swallowed and narrowed her eyes, trying to focus. The sounds of the nature, the owls, the branches, frogs in their ponds, crickets singing in the woods. Two strangely fast heartbeats, which she recognized as Jules and herself but there was something else.

ㅤㅤ

Something wasn't right.

ㅤㅤ

She tried to concentrate a bit more, licking her lips, Y/N felt an enormous hunger and that made her eyes widen, her face paled. Feeling a fear that never felt.

ㅤㅤ

“There’s a third heartbeat.” Y/N exclaimed trying to grab the chain but couldn't, could barely move. Those words made Jules shake her head desperately.   “Oh my god, there’s a third beat. Oh, no no no no.”

ㅤㅤ

They tried to let go but couldn't, everything was desperate and heartbreaking. They were only minutes away from the beast finally breaking free and someone else was out there.

ㅤㅤ

“We have to go now, we must… get far away as possible.” Y/N said with her breath ragged. She crawled over to Jules trying to free her but a ‘crack’ made her fall to her knees, chaos began and they couldn't do anything.

ㅤㅤ

Feeling how tears fell down her face, Jules just closed her eyes, regretting from now on for everything they could cause. “Please, I don't want to hurt anyone.”

ㅤㅤ

“No, no. Not now.” Y/N whimpered looking at the door and clinging to the wood on the floor.  Moments where physical and mental pain was all they could feel.

ㅤㅤ

Now the wolf took control, making them prisoners and spectators of the nightmare.  A huge gray wolf and a white wolf were breathing heavily, trying to recover.

ㅤㅤ

And a long howl began the darkest night.

ㅤㅤ

Parking the car not too close from the cabin, Wanda remained watching the place with some suspicion. Of all the places she thought they would go, a lonely cabin in the woods was the last place on her mind.

ㅤㅤ

Everything was possible, right? She had seen worse. There were people who cheated on their partners in the most stupid way possible.

Well, they weren't a couple... were they? I mean, they said it but nothing officially.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ "Ugh." The brunette closed her eyes, resting the forehead against the steering wheel.

ㅤㅤ

“Come on Wanda, this is stupid.” She told herself, what the hell had made her do this? She should be at home, crying and choking on alcohol or pizza and cursing Y/N like a normal person but no. She followed Y/N all the way to the fucking Catskills to find out what the hell she was doing.

ㅤㅤ

The sun has already set, the GPS saying she was in the woods -and strangely the dirt road was not even there- and the worst was yet to come.

A long, distant howl made her shrink back in her seat, looking around.

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck it, I'm out of here.” Wanda started the car and tried to back up to go back down the road but the car stopped suddenly, it was stuck or something. The screen showed that there was a problem with the pressure of one of the tires.

ㅤㅤ

“No way, really?!” The sokovian whined and got out of the car, getting closer to see what happened to the wheel, using her phone as a flashlight.

ㅤㅤ

But what she saw made her blood run cold, just a little more. It was ripped, three huge scratches shredded the entire rim. Those cuts were too brutal.

Wanda decided to go back to her car quickly, sheltering from the cold. Maybe it was a branch? Or did she brush against a rock? She thought of everything but the idea that it was some wild animal around.

ㅤㅤ

“Easy, Wanda, you're just overreacting.” Shaking her head, she called two towing services, but neither agreed to come to the location.

ㅤㅤ

One of them said that not even for all the money in the world would go near that area of the forest after sunset, and the other guy just said: fuck no, because surely someone was going to rob him and he was fed up with those scams.

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck!” Wanda yelled annoyed when the guy ended the call without further ado.

It was dark, owls hooting terrified her. She couldn't ask Y/N or anyone in that cabin for help, because she would have to explain what she's doing there, and she wasn't the one to explain. Y/N was.

ㅤㅤ

The Sokovian ended up calling the only person who could help her in such a situation.

ㅤㅤ

"Yeah?" Natasha's hoarse voice was heard on the other end of the phone.

ㅤㅤ

“Nat, I'm sorry I know you might be busy tonight but I need your help.” Wanda said turning on the car's heater.

ㅤㅤ

“Sure, what is it? I can't hear you well, the connection is kinda lost! Where are you?”

ㅤㅤ

“I'm stranded on a road near the Catskills, the towing guy says it's too late and he won't go anywhere. I will send you my location. Can you come pick me up?”

ㅤㅤ

“What?! Wanda, what the hell are you doing there?!”

ㅤㅤ

She sighed, surely Nat would scold her for that.  “I followed Y/N and her friend to this place, she lied to me. She said that she was working and… well, I can't explain now! Just come for me, please.”

ㅤㅤ

‘Shit! Wanda, it's... it's full- ... Oh god. Please, lock the car and stay inside. You heard me? DON'T GO OUT, STAY THERE. No matter what you hear, do you understand me?’

ㅤㅤ

“Why? you're scaring me.” She looked around a bit fearfully and pressed the car lock.

ㅤㅤ

“Wanda, do as I say. I’m like... two hours away, stay inside. I'm coming for you.”

ㅤㅤ

The call ended.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda just closed her eyes, repeating to herself that she was just going crazy for nothing. It was just a forest, she was in her car which was pretty safe. Just had to wait.

ㅤㅤ

“Yay! You see? I knew that everything would work out.” Wanda smiled, feeling calm until a long, deep howl from the forest made her skin crawl.

Two long, fearful howls dominated the forest. ㅤㅤ

The birds fluttered away to hide in the trees, the animals near the place fell silent. It was an alert, a warning. A much bigger and more dangerous predator was haunting the place and making it its own.

ㅤㅤ

“They're just coyotes.” Wanda told herself again, watching the forest mist. She wasn't going to deny that that made it so much scarier. “Just coyotes. This place is full of wild animals… Stay in the car and that's it.”

ㅤㅤ

An hour passed and Natasha didn't arrive. It was understandable, she was quite far from the place. Wanda started the car engine again to use the heating and the radio - to clear her mind and not be a victim of paranoia- trying to pass the time by looking some instagram stories or something like that. An interesting idea crossed her mind.

ㅤㅤ

She clicked on the Instagram icon to search for 'Jules Boyd' but there was nothing. The girl didn't appear on any social networks, just like Y/N deleted all of them.

ㅤㅤ

Narrowing her eyes, Wanda decided to google her to see what she could find on her.

ㅤㅤ

“Jules… Boyd.” The brunette murmured as she scrolled down the screen looking at the results. Some just didn't say much more than some other people's profiles, but something caught her attention when she was about to give up.

ㅤㅤ

‘Ranger locate hikers lost in Catskills, rescue North Country residents buried in 6 feet of snow.’

ㅤㅤ

‘Two hikers from the Bronx got lost Saturday on the Hurricane Ledge in Kaaterskill Wild Forest. New York State Department of Environmental Conservation forest ranger Julia Boyd found the hikers…’

ㅤㅤ

“Julia Boyd.” Wanda finished reading that article.  “She’s a ranger.”

ㅤㅤ

But suddendly, a loud hit against her door made Wanda jump, the phone slipping from her hands and falling under the seat.

ㅤㅤ

“Shit! Oh my god!” Wanda screamed, moving away from the door. It was a pretty hard hit, but there was nothing outside. Just the cold, dark night.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda swallowed totally terrified, turning on the car lights but there was nothing out there. Couldn't hear anything but the crickets.

She stood still for about two minutes until the hitting against her door came back. And not just once, but many times, about to rip the door off.  A growl made Wanda squeal, clinging to the rear door of the car.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She couldn't see what was stalking her, only heard the growls of the beast. Completely terrified, Wanda got out of the car and ran as fast as she could toward the cabin.

ㅤㅤ

“Please, Y/N. HELP!”  The sokovian screamed, trying desperately to open the door.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda knocked on that wooden door with all her might, praying that one of them would listen to her. She didn't mind having to explain herself if something out there wanted to devour her.

ㅤㅤ

But no one helped and no one responded.

ㅤㅤ

She pushed and punched until the door swung open. Wanda entered desperately and locked the entrance with every furniture she saw around.

Moved away from the door, sighing quietly knowing that at least she would be safe in there, or so she thought.

ㅤㅤ

But looking around more carefully, Wanda noticed that this place was far from being a cozy and warm cabin. The wood creaked in a chilling way, it was dark and cold, the crickets continued to accompany her with their solitary song. The chimney full of soot and cobwebs.

ㅤㅤ

Looked for her phone to use it as a flashlight again, but she couldn't find it.

ㅤㅤ

“Damn!” Wanda remembered that her phone fell in the car when that thing scared her. Would have to settle for moonlight. “Y/N?”

She walked slowly looking for them but there was nothing. She walked slowly looking for them but there was nothing. Just a simple abandoned cabin, this was becoming increasingly strange, where were they?

ㅤㅤ

Wanda opened one of the drawers, taking out an old hunting knife and a flashlight. She sighed in relief, maybe she could handle it.

ㅤㅤ

 “Jules?”

ㅤㅤ

It was a minute or two befores she heard some noise coming from the back of the cabin. She stirred doubtfully, what to do? She decided to go investigate, wielding that knife and the flashlight. Wanda approached noticing that the basement door was open.

The good news was down there that the light was on. That was good, right?

ㅤㅤ The light was flickering restlessly and maybe a bit creepy, wasn't going to deny it, but if this place kept her safe from that thing? She would take it, but when she was about to go down, Wanda stopped. The light went out completely, leaving the stairs in darkness.

ㅤㅤ

"Fuck no..."

ㅤㅤ

A few footsteps made her shut up.

ㅤㅤ

"Y/N? are you there? This is not funny at all. I saw you were here, come on. You can stop pretending now." She backed off.

ㅤㅤ

But no one responded. What came out of that door was not a human figure, it was something totally and completely different from a human being. That image made Wanda's blood run cold.

ㅤㅤ

That huge white wolf came out of the basement, watching her with a deadly and hungry look. Jules sniffed at her; a huge predator watching every move.

ㅤㅤ

The wolf began to walk towards her, showing its fangs menacingly. Wanda squealed, backing slowly towards the door. If she wasn't petrified it was because her survival instinct told her to get away from there as fast as possible, even if it won't help much though.

ㅤㅤ

So fast, the sokovian picked up an old lamp and threw it at the beast before running out of the cabin. Didn't know where to run, really.

Wanda reached the car but what she saw was much worse. The car door was completely smashed, there was no chance she could hide there. And everything got worse and worse.

ㅤㅤ

A growl made her turn. Behind the car, slowly, a gray wolf came out of the darkness staring at her.

ㅤㅤ

She was going to die, or so she thought.

Trapped, completely surrounded, the only option was to run. Running down that dark and disastrous path that she had come from, but of course she would be easy prey that way, right?

ㅤㅤ

Wanda just ran as fast as she could trying to hide among the trees, trying to lose them. And far from desperately running after her, that gray wolf just enjoyed watching Wanda run. Like a large predatory animal, enjoying its prey.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N allowed her to have the upper hand.

ㅤㅤ

The heavy breathing and the pumping of her own heart is all Wanda heard. Her face was dirty as were her clothes, she rolled down a stupid hill and fell on an dirty bunch of dry leaves. ㅤㅤ

How long had she been like this? Desperate running away, lost in the fucking woods. The howling in the night was driving her crazy, and maybe that's what they wanted. She stopped for a moment, closed her eyes trying to think, those were wolves. Much bigger than normal but they were wolves.

ㅤ

Think, Wanda, think.

Wolves have a very acute sense of smell that they use to detect other animals like a mile away or something. A huge part of a wolf’s brain is used to process smell, just as a huge part of our brain is used to process visual information.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda took the knife and cut her hand so she could leave some blood on that tree and run again, leaving her blood and scent in many different places to confuse those beasts.

ㅤㅤ

Twenty minutes later running in the opposite direction the sokovian was glad to find that stupid road again, couldn't leave it because Natasha wouldn't find her, and of course she didn't want to die lost in a damned forest either.

ㅤㅤ

She stopped for a moment to breathe, the branches of the trees moved slowly like whispers of the forest, as if everything in that forest connected with each other.

But a nearby howl made her jump, looking for refuge behind some big fern bushes hiding from one of the wolves. Perhaps she was very stupid to think that she could fool both of them. She gripped the knife tightly when she heard the crack of branches and the wolf's panting.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Jules sniffed that place for a moment, looking for the owner of that scent, and continued on its way following that false trail of blood.

Wanda sighed, the plan worked but now she had to keep up. The hiss of a near rattlesnake made Wanda snap out of her hiding place, terrified, run back toward the cabin.

ㅤㅤ

She was this close to snap. How is that she ended up trapped in that freaking hell? Wolves, darkness, forest, rattlesnakes.

ㅤㅤ

How grateful she was to get back to the car and was even more grateful not to find any wolf close to it. Perhaps both were gone to follow the blood trail. Yeah, it was that for sure.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda looked for her phone on the sides of her seat, and smiled widely upon finding it. She tried to unlock it so she could call the police, Natasha or whoever was necessary, but a growl behind her made her turn around slowly and carefully.

ㅤㅤ

Oh no.

ㅤㅤ

Those huge, watery green eyes showed the anguish and fear she felt, especially when she saw that big grey wolf look at her like that. Those fangs were all Wanda could see.

She really believed that she was free of it. Growling and snarling, Y/N slowly approached her prey.

ㅤㅤ

“Please no.” Terrified, Wanda backed up as far as she could, crashing into the wooden wall of the cabin. She never seen the size of a beast like that, a shiver ran down her spine. The cold feeling of knowing that you would die soon.

ㅤㅤ

“Stay away!” Being brave, she raised the knife and held it steady, ready to defend herself with it if necessary. A Sokovian was not going to die without a fight. “I'm going to shove this through your fucking skull. Back off!”

ㅤㅤ

But far from being afraid, the wolf seemed unfazed by the threat. She even seemed to enjoy it, slowly circling her. Like a predator it surrounded the meal before the surprise attack.

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck you, Y/N, for making me come here.” Wanda yelled, accepting her fate.  

ㅤㅤ

The beast advanced, but then stopped.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't move forward but didn't let her go either, just stayed in front of her sniffing; the wolf recognized that scent and would do so anywhere in the world.

Not the blood one. Wanda's essence.

ㅤㅤ

“Oh god or someone else there… Please, don't let it hurt me.” She prayed, closing her eyes, waiting for the final attack that would put an end to her life.

ㅤㅤ

But nothing happened.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda fearfully opened those green eyes again, seeing that that beast was just staring at her. Its huge yellow eyes were terrifying but also captivating.

The wolf no longer showed its teeth to frighten her. It was just there, watching her.

Leaving that frightening and threatening position, Y/N lowered its ears and relaxed its body, recognizing Wanda, not as a threat or as prey. It was Wanda. She was hers. ㅤㅤ

And for a moment, Wanda felt her body relax slowly, feeling a very strange security at the connection between their gazes. She wasn’t going to move, any sudden movement can make the beast to attack her.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N, stay away.” Natasha's voice caught their attention. The wolf quickly turned to face her, Natasha was a few feets away pointing the gun at her.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N snarled at Natasha, this time in a more aggressive way.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N? What do you mean with that?” Wanda exclaimed confused and terrified, gulped seeing that the beast becomes aggressive again.  “Natasha, shoot it!”

ㅤㅤ

Natasha shook her head, sweating. “No, Wanda. I can’t.”

ㅤㅤ

“It’s going to kill us! Just shoot it!”  Of course Wanda wanted to survive, but to do so, she had to give what she loved most in the world without knowing it.

ㅤㅤ

“WANDA, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Natasha yelled desperately, switching gaze between her friend and the wolf. Failed in the first step, avoid making eye contact with the wolf.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N interpreted this as challenging or threatening behaviour.  Every step the wolf took was one that Nat took back.

ㅤㅤ

“Don't make me do it, Y/N. Those are silver bullets... with wolfsbane... you gave them to me.” The russian swallowed, holding the gun with both hands. She was trained to handle these issues, she was a specialized agent. But not to kill a werewolf and even less a friend. “Stop! I don’t want to do this but I will!”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N wasn't going to back down. The wolf understood that Natasha was threatening Wanda, with all those screams and with that gun, and was going to do whatever it took to protect her.

ㅤㅤ

“Fuck!”  Natasha cursed. Took a step forward, threatening the redhead to back off but Natasha charged the gun, ready to fire if Y/N got close. Obviously the wolf took that as a more agressive challenge, and the wolf attacked. ㅤㅤ

Leaping towards her, Y/N rushed to bite Natasha but ended up on the ground.

She whimpered feeling the other wolf's teeth holding her to the ground, preventing Y/N from biting the girls.

ㅤㅤ

Before the astonished look of Wanda and Natasha, those wolves began to fight each other in an internal and external struggle to maintain control over the other.

ㅤㅤ

“Wanda, let’s go.” Natasha reached out to take Wanda's hand, pushing her out of the woods as the wolves kept fighting. ㅤㅤ

It was a deadly dance between Y/N and Jules, between biting and whimpers and grunts, one of the two would end up on the ground.  Blood soon stained their fur.

ㅤㅤ

Jules whimpered in pain as she felt Y/N's sharp teeth tear into her skin on the side of her back, just like Y/N had her leg bloody from the bites. Of course there was only one winner in that fight, and the blood on the white fur proved it. Y/N howled painfully but victoriously, marking territory. Licking her teeth.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She tried to follow the scent of Wanda but Jules caught her again, making them both to fall again. Even though the pack was small, it was a fight of instincts.

Wanda and Natasha ran to the truck but Nat stopped, glancing back. Those two were still howling and fighting and it didn't look like it was going to end well. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We must do something, they are going to kill each other.” Natasha swallowed, took the keys and handed them to Wanda. “The sunrise will come soon, two minutes. Get in the truck, if something happens, go.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What do you mean go? Those fucking wolves almost killed me! All night running from them!” Wanda screamed in disbelief, was Natasha that crazy? “What does it matter? We have to go.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, you don't understand. Just get in the truck.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha took the gun and fired into the air to scare the beasts away.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And like a ray of hope, the first ray of light intruded between the branches of the trees. Like a blanket of hope for them, receiving a new day.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

05:35 am. The curse ends.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The grey wolf had the white one on the ground, whimpering. The dominant dance was over. With a single movement Y/N could kill her, but didn't. It was just a fight, a wolf would never kill another wolf from its pack.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The grey wolf looked up to see how those two women were watching them from the truck and advanced towards them, or at least tried to, because after just a few steps Y/N stumbled, weakened.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N and Jules felt it, their bodies grow heavy. They weren't tired from the fight but more from the rising sun, weakening them, returning them back to a painful human form soon.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda could see an agitated grey wolf, who got up although its legs trembled but she howled again, and this time the white one friend joined in a long howl. The last goodbye before going back to its eternal prison.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Both wolves limped away, sore and injured, seeming to find it harder and harder to stay on their feet until they fell to the ground. Far from a painful and shocking transformation, their bodies vanished for a few seconds, returning them to their human form.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N kept lying on the ground, trying to catch her breath, until she turned to look for Jules as they did so many times.

Every full moon, they both watched each other making sure everything was fine, despite the pain, they would always be together.

If one or the other woke up earlier, they came over to make sure they were okay. A dreamy look that meant that for a month, they were freed from chaos.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But the pain reached Y/N’s chest when she saw her friend lying on the ground, there was no warm look on Jules this time, she wasn't reaching out to take her hand and squeeze it. There was blood on her pale skin.

Jules was on the ground, bloody, hurt and dirty, with a stabbing pain in the side of her body that made her just stay still.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What the f-” Wanda whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Her mouth moved but no words left her lips. Natasha just hurried to grab some blankets from her truck.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Jules!” Y/N got up as she could and came running, falling to the side of Jules to check on her. There was a deep wound on the side of her stomach, fang marks over her body and her neck.  Y/N's eyes filled with tears.  “Oh shit. Jules, I’m so sorry.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m okay.”  The girl said barely, the pain could be heard in her voice.  

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm so sorry. I couldn't stop it.” Y/N whimpered not knowing what to do, what to say.  This was all so...shocking.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It will heal soon, okay?” Jules breathing was rough due to the pain. “Just get me in the cabin, please.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Y/N nodded, but the worst came when she saw a completely pale, shocked and disappointed Wanda watching her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda…” She whispered, feeling her heart ache deeply.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N… take this.”  Natasha approached them both and handed her the blankets so they could cover themselves. Y/N remembered the state she was in and nodded, feeling very embarrassed. First she covered Jules and then covered herself.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Tried to ignore the other two women who were watching them with a mix of curiosity, pity, and fear.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What can we do… to help?” Natasha felt enormous sadness seeing them like that.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Just… get her out of here.” Y/N said, watching Wanda out of the corner of her eye as she took Jules in her arms and walked towards the cabin. She couldn't even look Wanda in the eyes, not after all she'd done to her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Nodding, Natasha walked over to escort her friend to the truck.  Wanda seemed pretty shocked still.  “Wanda, let’s go home.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I won't go.” The Sokovian shook her head.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, come on!”  Natasha took her arm but Wanda broke free of her, pushing Nat.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Not until they explain to me what the hell is going on here!” Wanda screamed in shock, annoyed and completely terrified. She spent one of the worst nights of her life and she demanded that someone explain to her what was happening there.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She walked determined towards the cabin, willing to know what the hell was going on.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

They owed her that much.

“Is she okay?” Natasha asked as they entered the cabin again. Wanda didn't say anything, she just settled in a corner, keeping her distance with some fear.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m very okay.” Jules cocked her head to see her, Y/N was finishing covering her stomach with a new bandage. “Just a little sore. Don’t cry for me yet.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha just rolled her eyes, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It's okay, it's just… healing faster than it should.” Y/N sighed, she noticed everyone's gazes on her.  “Something we… We can do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha nodded.  “So… accelerated healing. That's nice.” She knew what was happening to Y/N, but she never thought about the consequences. Y/N had told her it was best for Yelena and her to stay out of it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Among other quite interesting stuff.” Y/N swallowed, noticing how Wanda was staring at her as if she were something weird. And she was, of course.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What the hell are you both?” Wanda asked bluntly, trying to finally know the truth.

ㅤㅤ��ㅤ

“Lesbians.” Jules responded sarcastically.  “At least from me, of course. Also I’m a Pisces.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Werewolves.” Y/N said, accepting the reality that surrounded her. There was  no point in lying anymore. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And that's because you...” Wanda tried to find a logical reason for all this. “Were born like this?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No. Someone bit them both.” Natasha sighed, now Wanda was looking really upset.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What? You knew about all this.” Wanda opened her eyes big, she couldn't believe it. “You literally watched me wait a year for her and you didn't say anything!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"It wasn't my choice!" Nat fought back.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"I asked Nat not to say anything, so you would be safer." Y/N got up to approach her but Wanda backed away quickly, fearful. “What I told you is true… Someone bit me, then I bit Jules.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You turned your friend into that? You did this to her?” Wanda seemed more and more upset and terrified.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wait, it's not her fault. She didn't know…” Jules tried to defend Y/N. “She didn't want to, I just went to help her and… it was an accident.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And what? You both turn in this thing every month. Like a book club or something? ” Wanda gave a wry little laugh with a shrug. “Every month you go out to howl to the moon and hurt innocent people?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N frowned. “No, we don't do that.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Shut up, I don't want to listen to you! You’re a liar!” Wanda yelled pointing at her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Then you will have to listen to me! We don't hurt anyone. Every full moon we lock ourselves in separate cells and we don't get hurt, this is the first time we… were …free.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And you both almost killed me.” The Sokovian tried not to cry, crossing her arms.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha didn't say anything, just kept quiet because she knew she had no right to. She had already done enough by hiding everything from Wanda.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m sorry.” Y/N whispered, her eyes expressed all the pain and sadness she felt in those moments.  The guilt began to drown her more and more. “We wouldn't have hurt you. I don’t know, we’re new to this…”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We cannot control ourselves the first few months.” Jules sighed. “We cannot control the wolf yet but maybe we will.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“They turned us very… recently. A year.” Y/N said in a low voice, looking down feeling how Wanda was watching her and shaking her head. All the lies began to fall one after the other, like dominoes. “It bit me the night we went out on our date. That was true.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You choose to play with it, with people.” Wanda swallowed and shook her head, feeling deep disappointment.  “You do, you've lied to me all this time. You made me up a story that wasn't true!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N said nothing, tried but couldn't. She was right, Wanda was absolutely right, and there was nothing to say to defend herself.

Jules was right too, it was always best to have been away. She barely spent a week with Wanda and almost killed her. Or maybe not, but she almost bit her.

Y/N looked down, guilty.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wait, stop there. You don't know how much she's been through without you.”  Jules broke the silence when she saw her friend like that. Wanda had reason to be upset, angry and scared but not to be cruel.  “You have no idea what this woman has been through all this time away from you, thinking about you, missing you, crying every night. I witnessed all the pain she has gone through without you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Jules.” Y/N tried. “Don’t do this.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, tell her the truth, Y/N!” Jules narrowed her eyes.  “Tell her the pain you go through every full moon, when your body twists and your bones break. Tell her that when the full moon reaches the sky, you’re afraid, crying of thinking about hurting yourself or someone else. That you live with guilt. I'm sorry for what we did to you Wanda, but if it were a choice, it wouldn't be called a fucking curse!”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda clenched her jaw, she didn't have much to say to that. She just looked away.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“We don't even attack each other, we’re from the same pack. But we are learning... we live away from everything, to take care of ourselves and people. We came here because  didn't want to disappoint you all.” Y/N ran a hand over her face, trying to calm down.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“So what happened?”  Natasha frowned. “Because definitely that wound is not for nothing. You were fighting and it was scary.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Don't know.” Y/N shrugged. “I just know that a part of me… didn't like something.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Like what?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I didn't like it at all that you targeted Wanda.” Y/N wrinkled her nose at Natasha.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I wasn't aiming at her, I was aiming at you.” Natasha narrowed her eyes.   She then turned to see Jules, who was trying to sit up on the sofa, holding the wound on her stomach.  “And did you defend me or what?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Jules rolled her eyes.  “Pff, we've known each other for a week and we've had sex twice, lover. Calm down your pants.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You two had sex?” Y/N raised an eyebrow, seeing that Jules avoided looking at her. Another secret.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well, yeah… Should you have warned me of something? Can I be infected because of we…? Like a 'welcome to lycanthropy' letter or something?” Natasha raised an eyebrow in amusement, trying to make the moment less tense and more enjoyable.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, the old 'welcome to Werewolf 101' because you ate my pussy Oh, fuck off, Natasha.” Jules said sarcastically and they all laughed, well, all but Wanda.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The Sokovian remained deadly serious, with her arms crossed. She simply couldn't believe how they were all laughing while she had been through hell.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Natasha, can you take me home?  I think I want to go now.”  Wanda muttered walking towards the door, without even saying goodbye.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda…” Y/N gasped seeing Wanda leave the cabin, as fast as she could.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha and Jules watched each other as Y/N ran after Wanda, leaving them alone for a moment so they could sort things out.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Wanda, wait.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

She managed to get ahead, standing in front of the brunette. Wanda shuddered, as if she were experiencing some dejavu, feeling that she was reliving that situation in a very different way. She was afraid to be around her and she wasn't going to deny it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Listen to me…"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda looked down, no longer in the mood to be upset. She was just too tired of it. "I've heard you, I just want to go."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m so sorry. I didn't want all of this to end like this...” Y/N took her hand, feeling tears well up in her eyes. She would never have wanted to hurt the love of her life. “I never meant to hurt you. You have to believe me… I wanted you to be safe from this. I wanted you to be safe from myself, being away is what I had to do.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And you were right.” Wanda said looking down, breaking Y/N's heart with the most painful but necessary truth. Tears began to fall down her face.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I know it’s too much… but if you only…” Y/N tried one more time.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda cut her off quickly. “I need to think… I- I need some time."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"Wanda, please, I love you..."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

"I love you but… This is too much.” Wanda cleared her throat, wiping away a few tears. "Sometimes love is not enough."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Gulping and feeling how everything around her was sinking, Y/N just nodded. “I'll be waiting for you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Natasha came out of the cabin and put a hand on Y/N's shoulder, squeezing gently to show her support. Y/N stayed there, watching the love of her life get further and further away. Her heart broke again.

ㅤㅤ

Wanda sighed deeply before getting out of the new car, well, the one Pietro gave her while hers was in the workshop.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

A week passed since the incident and Wanda completely moved away from everything. From Y/N, from Natasha.

Taking her remaining vacation days from work, she decided to take some time to think about everything. Think about what she would do from now on.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The Sokovian took her jacket off before going through the door of that bookstore. It was a small but cozy place. The huge shelves full of books and a counter at the end of the room, there were also some old vinyls for sale.

Wanda walked around the place while the manager talked to a customer. It was just her, two boys who were looking for some comics and a man in his fifties, who gave Wanda a rather kind smile as he searched through history books.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ She smiled too and went over to see some stuff, current novels and some science fiction books as well. Wanda stopped looking at a little book called 'Cycle of the Werewolf' by Stephen King.

The brunette hesitated to take it but decided to go to the counter when she saw that the customer left.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Excuse me, umh… hi.” Wanda smiled nervously.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The girl of about twenty-five years old and tired eyes watched her as she typed on the keyboard.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Hello! Welcome to the Corner Store. How can I help you?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Well I... I was looking for a section about some stuff... Umh… ” Wanda cleared her throat, she didn't want to look crazy but didn't know how to say it. Sure she looked like a Karen looking for dirty steamy stuff.  “Supernatural stuff?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer? Supernatural? Section 8, to the right. We have some comics and books, yes.” The girl turned back to her monitor.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, no that.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, vampires romance? Well, there's a section on Romance genre, Section 3.” ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I mean... really supernatural stuff.” She swallowed, looking around her.  She felt quite stupid and nervous. Why not just Google about it? She wanted to go straight to the most real information possible.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Narrowing her eyes, the manager finally smiled. “Wicca? Do you want to start some ritual or something, ma’am?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I just want…” Wanda exhaled in exasperation, closing her eyes.  “I want to know about wolves. W-Werewolves. I want to write about them and I need some information, that’s it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh don't worry, I'm just messing with you.” The blonde girl took a piece of paper and quickly wrote down an address.  “If you need that stuff, you should go to this address. Ask for Layla.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you.”  Wanda looked at the paper.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Aldebaran. 117 32nd St, Brooklyn.

“You're welcome, miss. Have a good day.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Nodding, the brunette left that library to get in the car. It wasn't very far so maybe it would be interesting to go there right now.

But behind her came that old man, pulling out his phone as he watched the sokovian leave. He dialed a number and waited a few seconds.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Hello. Yeah. I think I have a job for you... I could be wrong but…” The old man narrowed his eyes.  “I think it's a veeery big puppy. Write down the license plate number.”

This was.. This chapter was a huge challenge. Hope you enjoyed.

I'm working on the next chapter of 'WISH YOU WERE HERE'.

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