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#The Family Values Program

camaro-and-smokes · 15 days

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The Family Values Program | CH2

Second chapter of a dystopian au we've been writing together with @aggressiveviking is up! (or been for a week or so, I forgot to share, oops lol)

Warnings: None. Tags: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down, Arranged Marriage, Developing Relationship, Pre-Relationship, Slow Burn, Developing Friendships, Denial of Feelings, Internalized Homophobia, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Domestic Fluff, Forced Cohabitation, Mutual Pining Misunderstanding, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Crush, or so they both think, Closeted Gay Billy Hargrove, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, Other tags to be added

Summary: Their first full day together gets an interesting start and then things start going downhill. Desperate situations require desperate solutions.

Read in full on AO3 >>

Snippet under the cut.

Billy was dreaming— he was dreaming something... nice — he couldn't really focus to remember. Warm and soft and for the first time in a long time, happy and relaxed.

He was still half asleep when he realized there was heat pressed into him keeping him warm. A sleepy small grunt left his lips as his eyes slowly opened. The blanket was almost up over his mouth, making him feel even more cozy. The light coming from the windows showered the whole room in dim cold light, seeping through the thin curtains… he didn’t remember those last night, but he was too tired to wonder how or why. He didn’t feel like getting up, he was way too comfortable—

Billy suddenly felt something that had his heart almost jump out of his mouth – a squeeze on his pec. He moved his hand, reaching up, fingers over… fingers ? He pulled the blanket away enough to see it was a hand– Steve’s hand.

Billy’s sleep-addled mind needed only a moment to piece together that the other man was pressed into his back, hand around his side, holding on… Billy’s face was red, heart thumping with shock… because it felt nice .

Fuck— that was so wrong. Billy could barely stand the guy, and they had almost gotten into a fight last night. How did that lead to this ? This wasn’t… it couldn’t…

He craned his neck as much as he could to look over his shoulder. For a moment he had thought that maybe Steve was actually interested in him like that . But he dismissed that instead for the thought that the guy was trying to provoke him again, continuing to push their petty fight from before. It was a relief to see that Steve was sleeping, face relaxed, breathing steady and deep.

Billy’s head was a mess, still too asleep to be able to think through things. The only thing he knew was that he was butt-naked, in the arms of an attractive man— Billy couldn’t deny that Steve was fucking gorgeous, the bastard — and he was starting to feel… things.

With his heart racing, Billy pushed the hand off himself and slipped out of the warmth under the blanket. His blush had spread to his ears and down his neck as he quickly scooped his clothes off the floor and quietly went to the bathroom.

An insistent sound penetrated Steve's sleep. He was annoyed because it just wouldn't stop and dragged him out of his slumber against his will. Suddenly, he snapped wide awake, realizing that it was his alarm. Fuck .

He'd fallen asleep.

He was sleeping on his stomach and hugging, based on the scent not his own but… Billy's pillow. He sat up quickly, letting the pillow fall on the mattress. Billy was nowhere to be seen, but a coldness filled his insides, nonetheless.

Oh, this was bad.

He didn't know for sure if he'd done it if he'd cuddled with Billy. He wanted to believe he hadn't. But the evidence told a different story—the pillow, and that he usually slept on his right side or his back, never on his stomach. He wasn't hurting anywhere, though, so he hadn't been hit, which he thought would've likely happened if he'd done it.

So, nothing told him anything else, but that it was barely plausible, if even that. But he couldn't push the possibility away from his mind. He knew it was always there.

He finally turned off the alarm and rubbed his face with his hands. What a fucking start for a day. Tonight he'd sleep in the other room without a fight, for sure.

There was a faint scent of coffee wafting in the air, and Steve's stomach gurgled loudly. The light dinner last night hadn't been near enough. At least he might get some coffee before he left early enough so that he could grab something to eat in some diner before going to work. He sure as hell wouldn't push Billy to make anything for him.

He took a shower, shaved, made sure his hair was on point, and put on his best gray Gucci suit pants, his best shirt, and tie, cufflinks, and Gucci dress shoes.

He took the suit jacket to be put on when he’d leave and walked to the top of the stairs, where he stood there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before walking downstairs. He promised himself that today would start better than yesterday. Even if they didn't have to like each other, they would have to get along as long as they were stuck together.

#harringrove #harringrove fic #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #suometar writes #aggressiveviking #The Family Values Program

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beingjellybeans · 10 months

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Family Culture and Wellness Thrive at Sun Life Grepa

Navigating the post-pandemic workplace requires organizations to reassess their practices and create environments that prioritize employee well-being and a sense of belonging. Sun Life Grepa Life Financial, Inc. (Sun Life Grepa or SLGFI), a leading life insurance company in the country, stands out by placing family-centric values and wellness at the heart of its workplace culture. A Warm…

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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Sympathy for the spammer

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

In any scam, any con, any hustle, the big winners are the people who supply the scammers – not the scammers themselves. The kids selling dope on the corner are making less than minimum wage, while the respectable crime-bosses who own the labs clean up. Desperate "retail investors" who buy shitcoins from Superbowl ads get skinned, while the MBA bros who issue the coins make millions (in real dollars, not crypto).

It's ever been thus. The California gold rush was a con, and nearly everyone who went west went broke. Famously, the only reliable way to cash out on the gold rush was to sell "picks and shovels" to the credulous, doomed and desperate. That's how Leland Stanford made his fortune, which he funneled into eugenics programs (and founding a university):

https://www.hachettebookgroup.com/titles/malcolm-harris/palo-alto/9780316592031/

That means that the people who try to con you are almost always getting conned themselves. Think of Multi-Level Marketing (MLM) scams. My forthcoming novel The Bezzle opens with a baroque and improbable fast-food Ponzi in the town of Avalon on the island of Catalina, founded by the chicle monopolist William Wrigley Jr:

http://thebezzle.org

Wrigley found fast food declasse and banned it from the island, a rule that persists to this day. In The Bezzle, the forensic detective Martin Hench uncovers The Fry Guys, an MLM that flash-freezes contraband burgers and fries smuggled on-island from the mainland and sells them to islanders though an "affiliate marketing" scheme that is really about recruiting other affiliate markets to sell under you. As with every MLM, the value of the burgers and fries sold is dwarfed by the gigantic edifice of finance fraud built around it, with "points" being bought and sold for real cash, which is snaffled up and sucked out of the island by a greedy mainlander who is behind the scheme.

A "bezzle" is John Kenneth Galbraith's term for "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." In every scam, there's a period where everyone feels richer – but only the scammers are actually cleaning up. The wealth of the marks is illusory, but the longer the scammer can preserve the illusion, the more real money the marks will pump into the system.

MLMs are particularly ugly, because they target people who are shut out of economic opportunity – women, people of color, working people. These people necessarily rely on social ties for survival, looking after each others' kids, loaning each other money they can't afford, sharing what little they have when others have nothing.

It's this social cohesion that MLMs weaponize. Crypto "entrepreneurs" are encouraged to suck in their friends and family by telling them that they're "building Black wealth." Working women are exhorted to suck in their bffs by appealing to their sisterhood and the chance for "women to lift each other up."

The "sales people" trying to get you to buy crypto or leggings or supplements are engaged in predatory conduct that will make you financially and socially worse off, wrecking their communities' finances and shattering the mutual aid survival networks they rely on. But they're not getting rich on this – they're also being scammed:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4686468

This really hit home for me in the mid-2000s, when I was still editing Boing Boing. We had a submission form where our readers could submit links for us to look at for inclusion on the blog, and it was overwhelmed by spam. We'd add all kinds of antispam to it, and still, we'd get floods of hundreds or even thousands of spam submissions to it.

One night, I was lying in my bed in London and watching these spams roll in. They were all for small businesses in the rustbelt, handyman services, lawn-care, odd jobs, that kind of thing. They were 10 million miles from the kind of thing we'd ever post about on Boing Boing. They were coming in so thickly that I literally couldn't finish downloading my email – the POP session was dropping before I could get all the mail in the spool. I had to ssh into my mail server and delete them by hand. It was maddening.

Frustrated and furious, I started calling the phone numbers associated with these small businesses, demanding an explanation. I assumed that they'd hired some kind of sleazy marketing service and I wanted to know who it was so I could give them a piece of my mind.

But what I discovered when I got through was much weirder. These people had all been laid off from factories that were shuttering due to globalization. As part of their termination packages, their bosses had offered them "retraining" via "courses" in founding their own businesses.

The "courses" were the precursors to the current era's rise-and-grind hustle-culture scams (again, the only people getting rich from that stuff are the people selling the courses – the "students" finish the course poorer). They promised these laid-off workers, who'd given their lives to their former employers before being discarded, that they just needed to pull themselves up by their own boostraps:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/10/declaration-of-interdependence/#solidarity-forever

After all, we had the internet now! There were so many new opportunities to be your own boss! The course came with a dreadful build-your-own-website service, complete with an overpriced domain sales portal, and a single form for submitting your new business to "thousands of search engines."

This was nearly 20 years ago, but even then, there was really only one search engine that mattered: Google. The "thousands of search engines" the scammers promised to submit these desperate peoples' websites to were just submission forms for directories, indexes, blogs, and mailing lists. The number of directories, indexes, blogs and mailing lists that would publish their submissions was either "zero" or "nearly zero." There was certainly no possibility that anyone at Boing Boing would ever press the wrong key and accidentally write a 500-word blog post about a leaf-raking service in a collapsing deindustrialized exurb in Kentucky or Ohio.

The people who were drowning me in spam weren't the scammers – they were the scammees.

But that's only half the story. Years later, I discovered how our submission form was getting included in this get-rich-quick's mass-submission system. It was a MLM! Coders in the former Soviet Union were getting work via darknet websites that promised them relative pittances for every submission form they reverse-engineered and submitted. The smart coders didn't crack the forms directly – they recruited other, less business-savvy coders to do that for them, and then often as not, ripped them off.

The scam economy runs on this kind of indirection, where scammees are turned into scammers, who flood useful and productive and nice spaces with useless dross that doesn't even make them any money. Take the submission queue at Clarkesworld, the great online science fiction magazine, which famously had to close after it was flooded with thousands of junk submission "written" by LLMs:

https://www.npr.org/2023/02/24/1159286436/ai-chatbot-chatgpt-magazine-clarkesworld-artificial-intelligence

There was a zero percent chance that Neil Clarke would accidentally accept one of these submissions. They were uniformly terrible. The people submitting these "stories" weren't frustrated sf writers who'd discovered a "life hack" that let them turn out more brilliant prose at scale.

They were scammers who'd been scammed into thinking that AIs were the key to a life of passive income, a 4-Hour Work-Week powered by an AI-based self-licking ice-cream cone:

https://pod.link/1651876897/episode/995c8a778ede17d2d7cff393e5203157

This is absolutely classic passive-income brainworms thinking. "I have a bot that can turn out plausible sentences. I will locate places where sentences can be exchanged for money, aim my bot at it, sit back, and count my winnings." It's MBA logic on meth: find a thing people pay for, then, without bothering to understand why they pay for that thing, find a way to generate something like it at scale and bombard them with it.

Con artists start by conning themselves, with the idea that "you can't con an honest man." But the factor that predicts whether someone is connable isn't their honesty – it's their desperation. The kid selling drugs on the corner, the mom desperately DMing her high-school friends to sell them leggings, the cousin who insists that you get in on their shitcoin – they're all doing it because the system is rigged against them, and getting worse every day.

These people reason – correctly – that all the people getting really rich are scamming. If Amazon can make $38b/year selling "ads" that push worse products that cost more to the top of their search results, why should the mere fact that an "opportunity" is obviously predatory and fraudulent disqualify it?

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/29/aethelred-the-unready/#not-one-penny-for-tribute

The quest for passive income is really the quest for a "greater fool," the economist's term for the person who relieves you of the useless crap you just overpaid for. It rots the mind, atomizes communities, shatters solidarity and breeds cynicism:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/24/passive-income/#swiss-cheese-security

The rise and rise of botshit cannot be separated from this phenomenon. The botshit in our search-results, our social media feeds, and our in-boxes isn't making money for the enshittifiers who send it – rather, they are being hustled by someone who's selling them the "picks and shovels" for the AI gold rush:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/03/botshit-generative-ai-imminent-threat-democracy

That's the true cost of all the automation-driven unemployment criti-hype: while we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

The manic "entrepreneurs" who've been stampeded into panic by the (correct) perception that the economy is a game of musical chairs where the number of chairs is decreasing at breakneck speed are easy marks for the Leland Stanfords of AI, who are creating generational wealth for themselves by promising that their bots will automate away all the tedious work that goes into creating value. Expect a lot more Amazon Marketplace products called "I'm sorry, I cannot fulfil this request as it goes against OpenAI use policy":

https://www.theverge.com/2024/1/12/24036156/openai-policy-amazon-ai-listings

No one's going to buy these products, but the AI picks-and-shovels people will still reap a fortune from the attempt. And because history repeats itself, these newly minted billionaires are continuing Leland Stanford's love affair with eugenics:

https://www.truthdig.com/dig-series/eugenics/

The fact that AI spam doesn't pay is important to the fortunes of AI companies. Most high-value AI applications are very risk-intolerant (self-driving cars, radiology analysis, etc). An AI tool might help a human perform these tasks more accurately – by warning them of things that they've missed – but that's not how AI will turn a profit. There's no market for AI that makes your workers cost more but makes them better at their jobs:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Plenty of people think that spam might be the elusive high-value, low-risk AI application. But that's just not true. The point of AI spam is to get clicks from people who are looking for better content. It's SEO. No one reads 2000 words of algorithm-pleasing LLM garbage over an omelette recipe and then subscribes to that site's feed.

And the omelette recipe generates pennies for the spammer that posted it. They are doing massive volume in order to make those pennies into dollars. You don't make money by posting one spam. If every spammer had to pay the actual recovery costs (energy, chillers, capital amortization, wages) for their query, every AI spam would lose (lots of) money.

Hustle culture and passive income are about turning other peoples' dollars into your dimes. It is a negative-sum activity, a net drain on society. Behind every seemingly successful "passive income" is a con artist who's getting rich by promising – but not delivering – that elusive passive income, and then blaming the victims for not hustling hard enough:

https://www.ftc.gov/business-guidance/blog/2023/12/blueprint-trouble

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

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/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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unknownfortuna · 3 months

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Profection years

Profection Years represent the themes in the house you will be facing as well as the planets associated with the signs in the houses. REMEMBER planets within these houses also represent whether the manifestations will be positive or negative (also aspects). I will be speaking mostly positive manifestations to avoid freaking anyone out:)

Ascendent: ages 0, 12, 24, 36, 48, 60, 72...

The transformation in these years are closely tied to your identity. These years may also feel like you are starting over in some way, perhaps you are being too clingy with things that are not meant to be and will be forced to let go (you were supposed to do this in the 12th house but whatever you'll learn). A new you is reborn and you will be reintroducing yourself to those around you!

The rising sign is an indicator of what your year may hold for you (planet associated too!)

ex. Virgo rising may really lean into a more polished looking appearance. attention to detail and being a bit of a perfectionist in the work you do. You may be highly critical of yourself and others. Planet- Mercury will be activated this year. Perhaps you will incorporate more professional language depending on the profession you are in.

2nd House: ages 1, 13, 25, 37, 49, 61, 73...

These years are focused on your assets and values related to the self. (ascendent profection years is more superficial and based on others opinion/the mask you show others ex. work persona). Your material possessions and your ability to provide for yourself.

ex. Scorpio in the 2nd house. Can be going through a more secretive transition related to how you make your money. May be doing a more taboo profession or conflict may arise due to scorpio being associated with pluto and mars (also darker/obsessive tendencies with your things/self....like astrology/the occult)

3rd House: ages 2, 14, 26, 38, 50, 62, 74...

More active years; heavier emphasis on your siblings and neighborhood. Changes to your thought patterns and communication. More activity in your day to day life such as traveling or commuting somewhere.

ex. Libra in the 3rd house would be feeling more codependent on their siblings/neighbors and vice versa. Can have run ins with the law (parking/speeding tickets... also being able to get out of them bc of your charm:). More activity in your romantic and business partnerships! (Flirting with everyone bc why not??). Venus will be on your side during this year.

4th House: ages 3, 15, 27, 39, 51, 63, 75...

Family and the foundation you stand on will be heavy on your mind. What kind of legacy do you want to leave behind? How can I be more involved in my family? How is my relationship with my mom affecting me? Childhood themes may also come up. Revisiting certain memories or places associated with childhood.

ex. Leo in the 4th house would hold more emphasis on adding flair to their home; More self expression towards their family and with their mom. The sun would be activated and a perpetual spotlight would follow you making you stand out ESPECIALLY with your family (being the talk of their family bc their mom can't help but brag about an accomplishment you made this year).

5th House: ages 4, 16, 28, 40, 52, 64, 76...

This profection year can really help tap into a more creative side of yourself. Perhaps you become more into a hobby you've been wanting to do. More excitement in your dating life relationships/ going out more with friends. pets are also a theme.

ex. Gemini in the 5th house would have soooo much to talk about with people (beware of gossiping). More fun with your siblings or you could be involved in communicating with kids in some capacity (You are a part of an after school program for elementary aged kids). Mercury would be activated.

6th House: ages 5, 17, 29, 41, 53, 65, 77...

These years pertain to your health/daily routine/every day work habits. Perhaps you want to incorporate a new diet or get more into a fitness routine.

Ex. Pisces in the 6th house may incorporate a ritual of some sort. Manifestation practices/protection spell work/reading scriptures from a religious text. Neptune will be activated this year so movies can be an inspiration for change to your life (beware of being mislead, neptune=planet of illusions ; you join a pyramid scheme lol). Jupiter is the traditional ruler. May bring random good luck within your daily life.

7th House: ages 6, 18, 30, 42, 54, 66, 78..

Relationships of all kinds will be emphasized. You may feel a bit codependent during these years; influenced by your relationships. What type of relationships do I want? type of thoughts. You could also be more of a social butterfly or heavily locked into your one on one relationships.

ex. Aquarius in the 7th house will be more involved in online relationships (like gamer friends). May be more active in building an online business and harvesting a following. Become more concerned with humanitarian causes and collaborating with others to make a difference. Uranus will be activated this year and may bring random acquaintances/ friendships. Saturn is also the traditional ruler....long term relationship through a dating site

8th House: ages 7, 19, 31, 43, 55, 67, 79...

More focused on transformation in a soul searching kind of way. What are your thoughts/feelings towards Money/intimacy/shared resources? Speaking of shared resources, if you are in a serious business or romantic partnership, this year will cause you to review what exactly is being harvested between you two. Taxes may be a focus on these years.

ex. Aries in the 8th house may feel the need to take action and charge these topics head on. Due to its independent nature they will have to learn to walk the fine line with what is theirs and what is a shared resource with their partners. Can also have to fight for inheritances. Mars will be activated this year giving more fuel/power to the individual.

9th House: ages 8, 20, 32, 44, 56, 68, 80...

Changes to your spirituality/religious thoughts. College or higher education of some kind will be a focus. perhaps you adopt a new dogma from reading a higher-level text. Travel and foreign places will be themes.

ex. Capricorn in the 9th house likes structure. They may be into focusing on what the meaning of life is or planning trips in search of answers to such existential questions. May also take work trips during this year or building rapport with foreign associates. Saturn would also be activated which can manifest in implementing more disciplinary rituals based on your spiritual belief (buddhism=incorporating asceticism practices).

10th House: ages 9, 21, 33, 45, 57, 69, 81..

The public and how you are perceived. focus on career and what you want to achieve. The 10th house can also be associated with authority figures/ father. Perhaps you end up being mentored by your boss or a fatherly figure of some kind when it comes to your career. There can be changes in the type of relationship you have with your father.

ex. Cancer in the 10th house could have a career related to caregiving or nurturing role of some kind. A protective career like the military could also manifest. Others may come to you and seek out advice of some kind due to the public seeing you as a caretaker/ motherly figure. Cancer being ruled by the moon may also cause ppl to see you as a moody/emotional person. Your mom and the relationship you have with her could be a theme (moon=mother)

11th House: ages 10, 22, 34, 46, 58, 70, 82...

The community is of importance and the ties you have. Your friends could be a big part of this year. The natural ruler of the 11th house is Aquarius which rules the media/ your presence within social media could be a theme such as being recognized or discovered in some way.

ex. Saggitarius in the 11th house would have an expansive list of friends from all types of communities, ages, and cultures (diversity, diversity, and more diversity). Could take trips to meet said friends in foreign countries. Lots of fun in the community (reputation of the life of the party??). Jupiter would be activated bringing good luck and expansion in this area:)

12th House: ages 11, 23, 35, 47, 59, 71, 83..

The 12th house is kind of the final chapter to karmic cycles. You go through a sort of ego death in this house. Depending on your attachment to things in your life will really let you know whether this year will be easy for you or not. Also have you been ignoring something or pushing a serious topic off in hopes it will dissipate into fine dust? Well, this year will bring your subconscious thoughts to life as well as influence your sleep and dreams. Isolation can manifest in different ways (working nights, hospital, prison, sleep disorders). Think of this year as the final test/ palette cleanser to all of the years prior.

ex. Taurus in the 12th (hehe how interesting:) the fixed sign will have no choice but to face the changes that have been inevitable. Perhaps you have considered yourself to be someone who is flexible (Gemini Rising) but ask anyone around you and they would say otherwise. Lessons of beauty/ugly will come about as well as lessons dealing with your foundation. Material possession will have to be approached in a detached manner due to the possibility of having to let go of systems that can not be taken with you in the upcoming profection year. Venus will be activated during this year and may include lessons related to love.

"Your fear of abandonment is entirely justified. Nothing in this world stays forever. The leaves fall, the fields of sunflowers wilt, even the best people leave sometimes. You're not crazy. You're observant."

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iww-gnv · 1 month

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Writers employed by “Sesame Street” producer Sesame Workshop have voted unanimously to support a strike authorization vote from the Writers Guild of America as the April 19 expiration of the current contract approaches. The 35 writers represented by the union have been in negotiations with the production company behind “Sesame Street” and other children’s programs since February. If the sides can’t reach a deal by April 19, picketing will begin outside Sesame Workshop’s Manhattan headquarters on April 24, the WGA said Tuesday. “We are committed to working with Sesame Workshop to codify a fair contract for writers that embodies these values, and which allows the Workshop to continue to attract top-level talent who can artfully create stories that successfully balance entertainment, playfulness, and joy with education and enrichment,” the union’s Sesame Workshop negotiating committee said in a statement. “Our demands would be extremely meaningful for the affected writers, particularly those in animation who are currently being excluded from basic union benefits and protections like pension and healthcare. We hope for a speedy and amicable resolution to these negotiations so that we can continue to do the work of helping the next generation grow smarter, stronger and kinder.” “Our writers are integral members of our creative team, and we are engaged in good faith negotiations with the WGA. We’re still hopeful that we’ll come to an agreement in advance of the expiration,” the company said in a statement. Sesame Workshop is a nonprofit organization, which means it’s in an unusual position of facing a strike threat. WGA East president Lisa Takeuchi Cullen acknowledged the awkwardness of the situation. “No one wants to see a picket line on Sesame Street,” said Takeuchi Cullen. “Millions of parents and families around the world are going to have a lot of questions. They might ask why the bosses at Sesame Workshop are ignoring their company’s own messages of kindness and fairness.”

#news #us news #entertainment news #sesame street #sesame workshop

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despazito · 1 year

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i can’t tell whether society values children’s intelligence so little or just the artists/childhood educators because we’re like a good 5+ years into elsagate and literally every child is consuming garbage youtube videos on their tablet and yet there hasn’t been any societal backlash or epiphany that making good kid’s entertainment is NOT SIMPLE. there is so much work that goes into quality children’s programming and it’s actually good to have regulated networks with syndicated shows run by experienced creators. Like i’m very passionate about educational children’s programming and i just can’t believe how low some parents set the bar for ‘good’ content for their kids to watch. someone make a torrent bundle of good educational shows with zaboomafoo and magic schoolbus etc. no more colour finger families

#anyway have i told you guys i wanna try getting into puppet making

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wndaswife · 1 year

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centre of attention | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Ex-wife of a church preacher and a member of a popular parent-teacher group, Wanda Maximoff is one of the town’s most infamous figures, but you soon learn that she is much more than she seems.

Word count: 13 783

Tags: smut, fluff, age gap, jealousy, allusions to slut-shaming, mentions of a gangbang, brief cunnilingus, strap-ons, fingering, brief masturbation, hair-pulling, spanking, degradation, mommy kink, power bottom!wanda maximoff. MINORS DNI.

gif credit to vanessacarlylse

Pitchy hums of singing cicadas greeted you the moment you drove into the small northern Californian town you were to spend the next few months in.

None of it was really ideal for you’d wanted to land a placement as a teacher’s assistant at least somewhere in southern California as you’d lived in Los Angeles your whole life. But the moment you drove further into the town and saw groups of families walking hand-in-hand down the surprisingly-lively streets and children retiring towards their bus stops after their days at school, you knew your stay wouldn’t be as dull as you imagined.

The only thing that gave you pause was passing by the town’s local and only church that was as bustling with people as the schoolyard was.

What you could already tell was that the townspeople were certainly close-knit, valued their communities, and were a rather religious group of people.

In worrying about your interactions with the town’s church, you hadn’t meant to be crass, but rather sincerely concerned for the possibility that you might truly have found yourself stuck in a strictly old-fashioned and highly religious town hours away from Los Angeles for the next several months.

When you met with your assigned teacher and principal of the schoolhouse to go over some extra paperwork upon your arrival the next day, you met Agatha Harkness, a woman you immediately pinned as the town gossip. She was the vice-principal of the elementary school and she was quick and very kind to go over what you needed to know about the town you now resided in — which ended up being everything she knew from secret divorces to scandalous affairs.

Honestly, you were grateful for her warm welcome, even if the way you secretly mused at all of Agatha’s gossip would certainly be interpreted as rather unseemly for such a new resident of the town.

On Saturdays, the church held breakfasts after early-morning mass for there was also a specially-run youth program that was managed by the church every week on the same day. Eager to introduce you to some of the town’s families, some of whom were involved in the school’s particularly active parent-teacher group at school, Agatha took you to the breakfast.

As you expected, the spacious church basement where the breakfast was taking place was bustling. Families that crowded the buffet tables were dressed in their formal church attire, mothers with their hair done and husbands well-coiffed, and children in clothing that looked proper for the occasion though they were most definitely forced into them.

“Oh, there’s Monica,” Agatha told you before calling the bright-faced woman over.

She greeted the vice-principal then turned to you and stuck out her hand with a large grin. “Hey there,” she beamed.

“Hi,” you answered with a nervous smile, slightly intimidated by the crowd and in stunned admiration of the charming woman in front of you. You shook her hand.

“Monica is likely the greatest science teacher one could ever have the pleasure of meeting in all of northern California,” Agatha said with confident sincerity.

The cheery brunette waved her hand at her dismissively. “Oh, please, Agatha,” she uttered bashfully. Then she turned to you with a smile. “Are you new to the church?”

“I just started my placement as a teacher’s assistant here for my teaching degree in LA,” you said.

With raised eyebrows and an intrigued nod, Monica replied and crossed her arms as if impressed, “Is that so? It’s been a good while since we’ve had visitors come up here, especially from the Valley.”

You’d been living in Los Angeles for so long that you hadn’t ever really considered how renowned it was in the more rural areas of California; even Agatha had been surprised when you’d told her where you were coming in from.

“I don’t mean to hold you up,” Monica told you. “Help yourself to any of the food.” She exchanged a few words with Agatha before you were led further into the large room, and for the next forty minutes you stood by Agatha’s side eating and being introduced to the local families.

To your dismay, Agatha excused herself for a moment to greet what looked like a family who’d just entered the dining hall. You were forced to stand alone by one of the tables, busying yourself by looking around and playing with the hem of your shirt in a desperate attempt not to look awkward or out of place.

When two young boys and their father approached the table you were leaning against, you quickly straightened and stepped back to allow them to pull out the chairs.

You saw Agatha reapproaching when you turned around, but she was walking back with a woman you hadn’t yet met. She looked a few years younger than Agatha, but still older than you. Her hair was wrapped in a neat French twist, blonde strands that’d become loose from the hairstyle curling lightly around her face.

With her perfect done-up hair, the dark brown lip colour, a pair of black flats, and a dark green blouse tucked into black high-waisted straight-legged pants, she was a bit hard to take your eyes away from.

Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice what an obsessive idiot you must’ve looked like for she was busy balancing a few platefuls of food as she approached the table behind you with Agatha. She set the plates down for the young boys and the man you saw earlier, and you then realised that they were a family.

“This is Y/N — who I was telling you about just a moment ago,” Agatha brought you into the conversation then stepped to your side, wrapping a supportive arm around your shoulders.

The other woman she was with carefully placed the plates of food in front of who you supposed was her husband and children then straightened to look at you. She brushed the strands of her hair out of her face and smiled at you after taking a breath.

“Wanda,” she introduced herself then extended her hand to you with a warm smile.

“Hi,” you replied then shook her hand. “Y/N.” You kicked yourself internally for bringing your name up again when you recalled that Agatha had just mentioned it.

Wanda nodded then ran her palms down her hips. “So I’ve heard,” she said, a tinge of gaiety in her tone as her smile widened. “Are you starting your assistant position at the school on Monday?”

You nodded and attempted to return her smile though you were a little overwhelmed by the crowds of families you were currently standing in the middle of. Wanda caught onto the bashfulness of your tiny awkward smile and thought it was endearing.

“Well, don’t you worry. I think you’ll fit right in,” she reassured, the unbroken eye contact making you take a deep breath that you hoped wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

Before you could answer, one of Wanda’s young sons tugged at his mother’s blouse and asked in an adorably mousy voice, “Momma, can I please get a ginger ale?”

“Of course, moya zvezda. But just a little,” she answered, reaching down to stroke her son’s chin with her fingers. Then she looked back up at you with a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you, Y/N.”

You straightened and hoped you were only imagining the way you felt yourself blushing at her undivided attention. “L-Likewise, Mrs Maximoff,” you managed to say.

It was just over a week until you saw Wanda Maximoff again, much to your disappointment.

During the first week of your placement, you learned a whole lot of things. Firstly, dull heaps of information that you hadn’t said was anything but wholly interesting when the baker by your new place dumped years and years worth of the small town’s history on you when you were purchasing a loaf of rye bread, then more gossip shared with you from the teachers’ staff, suggestions for where the best hiking trails were around town which you happily utilised, and most importantly that there was a parent-teacher association that volunteered twice a week at the school.

At first that last bit seemed unimportant until you were given a sheet of the association’s members so you could familiarise yourself with them as you’d be seeing much of them throughout your time there, one of which was a familiar ‘Wanda Maximoff.’

Out of all the gossip Agatha had told you since you arrived, the resident she talked the least about was the one you were the most interested in. You supposed it was because they were close friends, and it would make sense that certain things about someone’s life — including their friends — were naturally private, even if not consciously.

But you didn’t think Agatha would mind if you asked about her, so you subtly brought her up while you were helping her clean up some of her things after school, a habit you picked up after the first time when you planned to go out for coffee together after work.

With the sheet of the members’ names in your hand, you asked Agatha as discreetly as you could, “Is, um, this the same Wanda I met on Saturday? At the breakfast?”

“Only one Wanda in this town, bumblebee,” Agatha replied and hung her purse from her shoulder. It was obvious she held her to a high regard, and that the two women were good friends. “Why do you ask?”

Continuing on with your goal to know more about Wanda, you answered, “I was just curious. I don’t know a lot about her compared to everyone else.”

“You’d like to know more?” she asked then led you out of her office, locking the door behind her. As the two of you walked out of school, she offered, “What would you like to know about her?”

The opportunity made you feel a little giddy as you recalled the image of Wanda when you met her earlier that week and thought of all the things you had been curious about since then. But you didn’t want to come off as obsessive or like you’d been thinking about her as much as you had, so instead you simply asked, “Were those her kids? The two young boys?”

Agatha nodded. “Tommy and Billy. They’re the sweetest four-year-old angels.”

The two of you approached her car and slid into your respective sides — Agatha in front of the wheel and you in the passenger’s seat.

“And that was her… husband with them?” you asked, buckling yourself in then tucking your hands under your knees.

“Her ex-husband,” Agatha corrected and started the car. “I don’t know if you’ve been to any of the masses, but Vision’s the church’s favourite preacher, so you’d see a lot of him if you attended regularly.”

So she wasn’t married.

You recalled calling her ‘Mrs Maximoff’ the last time you saw her and you shrunk a little in your seat in embarrassment.

While you tried to imagine Wanda marrying and divorcing a church preacher, not that you knew much about her to begin with to have anything to imagine, Agatha added, “The divorce was, you know, as scandalous as you’d expect in a small town like this, especially given how important the church is here and that both Wanda and Vision are such well-known residents.”

That was the first time anyone had mentioned any sort of distaste for how traditional the town seemed to be and it felt like your first breath of relief, for you’d felt so different from the crowd here since you arrived.

The weight from your shoulders was lessened exponentially when she also said, “But this town is full of younger families of a different generation, and there were more who offered their support than not.

“Although age isn’t entirely indicative of beliefs, so there are still a few younger parents both in the congregation and the parent-teacher association who harbour some distaste towards Wanda and her personal life.”

Up until now, you hadn’t said very much besides uttering a few hums of affirmation and acknowledgement.

“You alright over there, sweetie?” Agatha asked after not hearing your voice for a while. She looked over to you.

You nodded. “I’m okay. Just listening,” you told her with a reassuring smile.

She looked back to the road. “If you want to know more about her, I could give you her number and you could send her a message.”

A fervent blush formed on your face and you looked through the window to avert your face from Agatha. Something about being given Wanda’s number from someone else because they’d known you wanted to talk more with her made you feel awkward. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I’m sure I’ll… probably see her again.”

God, you felt like an idiot.

No matter what you said, it felt like it was only becoming more glaringly obvious how much Wanda was on your mind. And with the two women being close friends, you could only imagine the things Agatha would tell her about how you were acting like a giddy little schoolgirl thinking about her.

That was sort of what you felt like, anyways.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell her we talked about her,” Agatha reassured and winked at you. “I know you’re a shy one.”

You were grateful for that, but still pretty embarrassed.

Dottie was the first PTA member you had a real conversation with. It was on a Tuesday, and you were walking your class of twenty fourth-graders to the church alongside their teacher — you were assigned to assist Bruce Banner, an awkward but brilliant science teacher you came to enjoy the comfortable company of. A few times a month, students attended mass with enough time for the service before school ended, after which their parents would pick them up in front of the church.

You ended up sitting beside a blonde woman who immediately started a conversation with you when she recognised your face from the breakfast last week. After introducing yourself and mentioning a few of the people you’d met so far, Dottie seemed to perk up at the sound of Wanda’s name.

“Oh, that woman is trouble, Y/N,” she warned, her voice low as the two of you were still surrounded by churchgoers patiently waiting for the mass to start.

Though you were well-aware of the things Agatha told you about Wanda and how she’d been interpreted by some people in town, you were curious to know pretty much anything about her.

So you asked, “Why?”

Dottie turned her head to you so her chin was brushing her shoulder as she kept herself quiet when she said, “What kind of woman divorces a church preacher of her ex-husband’s regard?” She said it with a kind of humour and a small disbelieving scoff. “It just isn’t proper, especially not for a woman with children.”

Suddenly you felt pretty regretful for being so desperate to know things about Wanda, because now you were feeling rather offended and uncomfortable hearing the things Dottie was telling you, even if what she was saying wasn’t at all about you.

As if it couldn’t get worse, Dottie ducked her head and looked at you, uttering, “Have you caught word of her little… expeditions once she got her divorce finalised?”

You bit down along the side of your tongue with your molars and looked up at the altar, silently hoping that the mass would soon start, but the church chatter between students only continued as the congregation waited for the priest to step onto the podium.

“It was all rather hush-hush because of her…” Dottie trailed off with a disapproving shake of her head, seemingly feeling some contempt simply speaking of any form of esteem for Wanda. But she continued after readjusting herself on the pew, “Because of her standing in town.”

She quickly regained her confidence when she picked up her badmouthing of Wanda again. “Allegedly,” she said with a sly grin and a demeaning chuckle, “Wanda broke out into some sort of midlife crisis and had an affair with four younger men. Four men, one of her, one measly hotel room. I mean, we’re both adults here — you do the math.”

You stuttered out an awkward hum and turned your body subtly, making sure no one around was paying attention to your conversation. No one was. It seemed to you that Dottie’s words were a lot louder than they were due to their subject matter.

“Well… Wasn’t she divorced by then?” you asked.

Dottie laughed and waved her hand. “That’s as good as an affair, honey. Marriage is for life.”

Then she placed a supportive hand on your knee that sent shivers up your arms before advising, “Besides, it’s good you know early which people to befriend and which to avoid, and Wanda Maximoff is nothing but trouble, junebug.”

Though the general consensus was that everyone liked her if not admired her, there were rumours of similar concerns about Wanda as she seemed to be much less of a conservative woman compared to the rest of the town. It wasn’t necessarily that every resident was a traditionalist, but that even those second to Wanda’s independence from the constricting life of an upper middle-class suburban housewife simply lacked the confidence only she seemed to have in choosing to live a life by her own freedoms and little else.

The rumour Dottie had told you was entirely true aside from the missing detail that her expedition — as she had put it — with the younger men could be accurately construed as a gangbang instead of an orgy or any form of tame sex. But Wanda was so cherished by her community that one would become instantly disliked if their suspicions of her scandalous life reflected in the way they came about interacting with her.

Some were shocked and almost insulted that anyone could take such accusations about the most warm and charismatic woman in town so seriously, and others lacking in the confidence to outright say there was nothing wrong with a sexually-adventurous woman but nontraditionalists nonetheless would come to her defence albeit in slightly ambiguous ways.

Moreover, the men she’d fucked were so proud of their performances and achievements in sleeping with her that the most they did to indicate what had happened between them was walk with their chests out and chins tipped up in public, feeling proud of the accomplished little secrets they had with her. Sharing dirty secrets with a woman like Wanda, and keeping them secret, amounted to a lot more pride received than repeating what had happened in the shared hotel room that afternoon.

The mass was painfully dull and all you’d been able to think of the last few days was Wanda, and that afternoon was no exception. Your thoughts of her only intensified after your conversation with Dottie and to make matters worse, at one point when you looked around at the pews, you spotted that very woman on your mind sitting between her two sons at one of the seats lined up horizontally in front of one of the side staircases leading up to the altar.

With Dottie’s words still echoing in your mind, your thoughts then wandered to Wanda being fucked by a group of younger men, cum adorining whatever gorgeous body you knew she had under all her conservative clothing, fingers wrapped around erect cocks while she took another one down her throat and another fucking her ass, fingers pumping in and out of her wet pussy.

You felt terrible for having your mind travel there, so you looked away from her and readjusted yourself in your seat. But from the corner of your eye you noticed her tuck her hair behind her ear and fix the collar on one of her sons’ blouses. She caught your attention again.

By then it was hard to stop thinking about her, especially when you watched her whisper an inaudible forewarning to her other son that was getting particularly squirmy in his seat. You watched the parting and movement of her lips and you couldn’t help the way you imagined how she’d look with her lips wrapped around a strap fucking its way into her throat, your fingers buried in her soft hair.

Then you imagined unbuttoning her jeans and revealing her smooth legs, pulling her shirt off and uncovering perfect tits that made you shift uncomfortably when you envisioned burying your face in them and kissing up the soft swells, making Wanda moan and grip at your shoulders while your other hand groped one of her breasts.

When you began imagining the view of her sore red ass while you fucked her from behind — her head thrown back as she cried out in long groans and whimpers, her cunt constricting around your thick cock — you forced your thoughts to come to a full stop.

You felt like an awful person thinking such things anyways, for it somehow felt like you were taking advantage of her. Trying to pretend like Wanda wasn’t on your mind was practically impossible, so you just decided to focus on something else.

Wanda was wearing a cozy-looking brown knit pullover. From the angle of your spot on the pews, you could see she was wearing a pair of jeans and butterscotch ankle boots. She had her hair combed neatly and tucked behind her ears and with it let down this time, you could see that its length reached just above her shoulders.

For the most part, she paid attention to the sermons with a still expression unless she was tending to her sons’ squirming and playful whispers, a testament to the impatience of young children.

When another man stepped up to the microphone after the priest stepped down and took a seat, Dottie leaned to the side and whispered, “Wanda’s ex-husband.”

Your attention was suddenly piqued and you looked up at the man. He was slender and tall and had blonde brushed-back wavy hair that swooped around his clean-shaven face. He had a pair of aviator glasses perched on his straight and jutted nose, and he was dressed in a beige blazer, navy blue slacks, a knit vest that was a few shades darker, and underneath, a grey blouse with an orange tie.

By all accounts, he was a pretty decent-looking guy.

His smooth and animated tone of voice that emanated through the church as he read a parable from a small leather-bound notebook made it clear that he was passionate about the church and his position there, and with his appearance that made him seem friendly and introspective, it was no wonder why Agatha had told you he was the church’s most popular preacher.

Wanda’s expression was ever-still and indifferent with no indication that she harboured any remaining emotional sentiments towards seeing her ex-husband in public nor any hint of being bitter towards him.

The service finally came to an end and it was then time to help the class line up by the church parking lot to have their parents pick them up.

When you stood up, you looked for Wanda but lost sight of her in the crowds of people filing out of the church. So you said your goodbyes to Dottie and led the class out of the building and towards the parking lot with their teacher.

It was about thirty minutes later waiting by the church’s front doors when only three students remained to be picked up. One of the students’ mothers were engaged in conversation with Bruce, the remaining children were talking amongst themselves, and you were standing by the side, just waiting for the rest of them to get picked up so you could walk back to school with Banner.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger,” a voice spoke behind you. You turned to see Wanda smiling widely at you as she approached. She stopped in front of you and leaned her shoulder against the brick wall of the church.

You smiled, feeling happy to see her. She really was charming, and so warm. “Hi,” you said. “Were you here for the service?”

Bruce glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he continued to talk with one of the students’ parents. He was glad you were getting along with people in town so well, and felt a little impressed that you seemed to be so friendly with Wanda so early into your stay. He was a shy and rather soft-spoken man, and the most he’d ever outwardly expressed his thoughts about Wanda was in the privacy of his wife's company. He had friendly feelings towards the renowned preacher’s ex-wife, and if the town had to be divided into groups, he’d certainly be categorised as a nontraditionalist.

Wanda replied, “Tommy and Billy’s father had a scripture reading today and he has them for the rest of the week, so I picked them up early after lunch to spend some time with them. I just said goodbye to them a few minutes ago.”

“About that…” you said and curled a lock of your hair between your fingers nervously. “I didn’t know you weren’t married last time we talked, and I shouldn’t have assumed…”

She ran her hand down your forearm, the one that was lifted so you could play with your hair. Her hand was so close to your face, and you caught a whiff of her perfume. “Oh, don’t worry about it, honey,” she reassured. “I completely understand, and you didn’t offend me.”

Wanda squeezed your forearm gently before her hand returned to her side. She straightened away from the wall and tucked her hair behind both ears. “Anyway, I saw you a bit ago and wanted to come up earlier, but I caught up chatting. I’m glad I could catch you.”

You fiddled with your fingers and perked up a little. “R… Really?”

Wanda hummed in what was either confirmation or amusement from your nervous response. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for coffee,” she offered. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot since we met on Saturday, and I’d love to get to know you more.”

“Today? Now?” you asked.

“If that works for you.”

“It does,” you told her cheerily.

She nodded with a wide smile. “Alright then, great. I can wait until you’re done here.”

Bruce, as if partially-listening into the whole conversation, turned and told you, “You can leave early if you want, Y/N. Just waiting on two more students here, so it’s no big deal.”

You asked, “Are you sure?”

He reassured you it would be fine, and you soon found yourself walking through the church parking lot to Wanda’s car.

Since Agatha picked you up from home that morning, Wanda only had to stop at school so you could get your things from the classroom before the both of you were on your way back to her house.

Wanda’s house was just off the edge of town, surrounded by farmland. In spite of that, her house was rather modern and of contemporary architecture. A white-picket fence extended down the grove of trees that surrounded the long gravel driveway. From afar where her expansive backyard was visible, you could see a sizable in-ground pool and what looked like a tennis court beyond that. She parked her car in front of the dual parking garage and you looked through the car window at her house.

When the two of you stepped onto her porch, Wanda told you, “The property used to be mine and Vision’s, but after we divorced I kept it for myself and he moved into town.”

“It’s a really nice place,” you complimented as you followed her lead, placing your shoes by the door and setting your things down on the table in the foyer.

“Thank you,” she said, looking over her shoulder at you. “I’ll make us some coffee and I can give you a tour?”

You nodded and Wanda smiled at your leniency. She had you sit at the kitchen island counter while she made coffee with a pretty-looking French Press.

“So, darling, how are you liking it here so far?” she asked, setting up two mugs by the steeping coffee. She turned and leaned back against the counter, her hands resting against the edge.

“I’ve really been enjoying myself,” you replied, sitting up in your chair.

Wanda appreciated your almost innocent enthusiasm as she regarded you with a smile. Then after a second, seemingly momentarily distracted by whatever was running through her mind as she stared at you, she inquired, “Have you made friends with anyone yet?”

“I talk to Agatha a lot, but this is my first time seeing anyone out of work or anything like that.”

There was a glint of pride in her smile when you said that as if she felt satisfied that she was the first person you were truly getting close with. It was almost territorial.

She turned back to the coffee once it finished steeping and you watched as she slowly pressed the top of it down, separating the grinds from the coffee. She poured it into both cups and discarded the grinds and rinsed out the press as the drinks took a moment to cool.

“How do you take your coffee, sweetheart?” Wanda asked. It made you feel sorta giddy when she used those kinds of names on you. She then placed the mug in front of you when she made it how you liked it.

As promised, she gave you a tour of the house which ended up feeling more like a casual stroll as you were outside with her more than not, walking the expanses of the tree groves out by the gardens and through her sizable backyard together.

You were largely an occasionally-stuttering and slightly-embarrassing mess with Wanda, but she didn’t seem to mind at all and led most of the conversation with you. In fact, she found your shy demeanour rather attractive, and she was delighted every time she caught you blushing or stumbling over your words.

Talking with her was so simple in spite of how awkward you felt, and if you didn’t have anything to say, it was just as easy to listen while she did the talking. She was different from other people you’d met thus far, because she was bold and not at all shy about being honest. She was adept in balancing the weight of being a single mother to two children while also being a leading figure in both the church community and in the school’s parent-teacher association. But she was also radiant and warm, and most especially, a huge tease.

When the topic of her divorce came up, Wanda made a joke about how her sex life with Vision was dull and how she’d been indulging in leaving her husband to get properly fucked months before the divorce papers were ever served, and though she did promptly say she was joking, you had an inkling that she was being at least partially honest. She made no further effort to convince you that she was simply jesting.

She then told you more seriously that her marriage with Vision had simply become less passionate over the years and that they confessed to each other that neither of them would feel particularly anguished if they ended up divorcing, which was reason enough without their other existing troubles. Essentially, their divorce was amicable and they still worked well enough together in order to raise their children.

Additionally, Wanda confirmed your impressions of her ex-husband from the service earlier, that he was the sensitive type who was reflective and intelligent. She told you she was impressed by how proficient you were in reading people.

The compliment flattered you, but you were secretly a bit insecure as you thought about her and Vision’s marriage. You knew fully well that they were divorced, but you couldn’t help comparing yourself to him and wondering if Wanda had a type — more precisely, if you were her type.

Another thing that you distinctly enjoyed about Wanda was that she was a very physical person. When she thought something was funny, she laughed in a rich way that crinkled the corners of her eyes and pulled her lips back into the prettiest of smiles. She touched you when she felt like it, without hesitation, running her hand down your arm or squeezing your shoulder. She was expressive with her body language and facial expressions and never made you feel for a moment that she was doing anything else but listening with undivided attention when you were speaking. She wasn’t very much withdrawn at all; she was a very sociable and confident woman.

“And you, Y/N?” she asked, placing both mugs, empty of coffee, into the sink once the two of you made it back into the kitchen.

Wanda turned to you and leaned forward against the island counter you had sat back down at. Her hips were pressed against the edge of it and her forearms rested against the countertop, her hands folded in front of her. Her sleeves were pushed up to her elbows from earlier when the two of you had been walking out under the sun for a while.

You stuttered under her focused gaze, “M-Me? What about me?”

“Do you have a special someone?” she asked with a teasing little grin, resting her chin in her palm and looking straight at you.

Discussing the topic of your love life with Wanda made you feel flustered and you looked away from her, fiddling with your fingers and looking down at your thumbs. “No, I don’t,” you answered.

“But you have someone in mind?” Wanda playfully pressed, raising her eyebrows at you curiously.

You looked back up and told her honestly, “Not really.” You attempted to be more honest with her given that she’d been so open and warm with you. “I haven’t had much of a chance to meet anyone.”

She straightened and ran her hands flat down against the counter. “Oh?” she questioned. “But you’re such a sweet girl.” Wanda rounded the island counter until she was standing behind you and laid her hands on your shoulders. “I figured that you would’ve had boys all over you, honey,” she whispered.

You knew she was teasing, or at least that was what you kept telling yourself when you found yourself slightly overwhelmed and rather overheated with Wanda’s hands on your shoulders, her thumbs slowly sliding up the sides of your neck.

“I’m just poking fun at you, sweetness,” Wanda giggled and squeezed your shoulder before stepping away from you. She walked out of the kitchen momentarily and came back with her purse. She laid it down on the counter and pulled her phone out.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I let the time get away from me,” she apologised. “I have to meet Vision and the kids for dinner in about an hour.”

To avoid thinking of Wanda getting all ready and dressed-up to see Vision, although it was for a dinner with Tommy and Billy, you stood up from your seat and answered, “It’s no problem at all. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you more. And the coffee was really great. Thank you.”

Wanda led you to the door, a gentle hand on your lower back. “I’d love to have you over again,” she told you. Her hand slid up your back, making you straighten immediately before she took her hand away from you to unlock the front door.

Though you looked away to hide the way your cheeks flushed at the contact, Wanda caught sight of your embarrassed expression and felt a flurry of adoration for you.

After saying goodbye to each other, Wanda called you back before you could step off her porch. “Would you be able to put your number in my phone?” she asked, holding her cellphone out to you.

Sounding a little too excited, you walked back over to her and answered, “Sure!”

For the next little while since you exchanged numbers that late afternoon, you’d had a few conversations with Wanda over text message. She was a busy woman though; she was always the most free to talk in the evening or rather early in the morning when you weren’t often awake.

You talked a lot about Tommy and Billy, your assistant position and how you’d been finding things, what Wanda did on a day-to-day basis, and a few other leisurely things when you both had time to discuss things like recent movies and favourite books.

It was incredible what Wanda took on in a day. Sometimes she was organising the youth church events or in meetings with the parent-teacher association — during which you sometimes passed the meeting rooms they were in, but never got the chance to see her because they were always so busy.

She went out of town a few days a week for any sports or clubs either of her sons were in outside of school as there wasn’t much availability regarding extracurriculars in town, which was also something she’d been trying to bring up to the municipality.

If she didn’t have to tend to the PTA, the church, or her sons, she had errands. She was always doing something from dropping something off at someone’s place to picking something up, going out of town to get something fixed, or doing one thing or another for someone else.

She always apologised for it as she’d told you that she wished she had more time to talk with you or at least be able to make a plan to get lunch together.

Though you also desperately wished to see her again, you didn’t mind at all. In a way, you really admired her drive and how capable she was, and how readily available she was to those who needed her while also being the most friendly and warm woman in town.

Plans to see each other again either fell through or never had the chance to be made for the both of you were beginning to have busier schedules.

Wanda was virtually always busy, but for you, since the season had begun to reach some of its warmest temperatures, there were more school events being organised from field trips to sports’ days which took up a majority of your time as you planned with Banner both during and out of class.

The next time you saw Wanda in person was on a Thursday, nearly three weeks since you had coffee with her. But in spite of that, you felt a lot more excited than the last time, for you now had three more week’s worth of having been able to get to know her. In fact, you were almost certain Wanda considered you a friend.

She was friendly with a lot of people. Nearly everyone in town knew her and held her in high regard. She’d take on extra work just to cover for a committee member who couldn’t make a meeting or cut an off-day short to do errands for anyone who’d ask her to, but from what you knew, she was only really friends with Agatha.

And now, you hoped she felt she was friends with you too.

Today was one of the hottest days of the season so far and also the day of the biggest school event. In association with the church, the sports festival equally divided their earnings from the festival and put it towards the school, church, and municipal government.

It was perhaps one of the biggest events in town for local businesses would also set up their stands and sell their products and services, and along with the carnival games and freshly-cooked food that stretched all the way down the expanse of Main Street under the sunny warmth of a budding summer, the festival was an attraction that had the small Californian town bustling with both locals and tourists alike.

Needless to say, the planning for the festival was extensive and it was one of the primary reasons both you and Wanda had become so busy over the last few weeks, planning completely different portions of the festival at the same time.

The festival was teeming with families and couples and it reminded you a lot of home; you felt a bit nostalgic. But mostly, you felt proud for having taken part in such a successful turnout. You looked around at the game and food concessions and small-business booths that extended down the long stretch of the lively street.

On one side of the street, a grassy clearing with a large playground and plenty of picnic tables served as a seating area, mostly. People ate and chatted with one another, watched their children as they swung around on the playground, and were overall just enjoying spending such a cherished event under the sun in the charming town.

Some that occupied the grassy plain were sprawled out under the sunny green expanse, some were sitting together with loved ones on picnic blankets they’d brought, and some, including a familiar woman sitting with a group of less-familiar women, were sitting at the picnic tables.

You approached the table of women after spotting Wanda and saw that her hair was tied back and that she was wearing jean shorts that revealed smooth legs, tennis shoes, and a white blouse that she had rolled up to her elbows.

By the time you’d gotten to the picnic table you felt a bit regretful, for you didn’t know any of the other women she was sitting with and you felt rather awkward walking up to the group of women, some of whom were sitting with their husbands.

But Wanda had already caught sight of you. She turned when you came into her peripheral and called out your name cheerfully, waving you over so you really couldn’t walk back now.

She stood from her seat and wrapped an arm around you. “Hi,” she then said after pulling away from the embrace to meet your eyes. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, it’s been pretty nice,” you answered.

Her eyes ran over your face for a moment longer before she stepped back and allowed the rest of the picnic table to see you. With her hand resting on your shoulder, she introduced, “This is Y/N. She’s moved here from Los Angeles for the time being to work on her teaching degree.”

While you and the table exchanged hellos with each other, Wanda turned to you and said, “This is the school’s PTA. Most of it.”

Then she offered, “Why don’t you come and sit here with us, honey?” She sat back down and moved over to the side, one hand on the empty space beside her.

You quickly looked over the picnic table of couples and single mothers as they’d resumed their conversations, then over at the empty spot.

“Oh… Well, I wouldn’t want to bother any of you, and I think Vision is around here somewhere looking for a seat,” you answered and looked around for him.

Wanda then stood from her seat again, enough to be able to reach over to you and take your hand. “Nonsense, darling. Come here,” she told you. She pulled you to the table and took the small plate of food from your hand before setting it down on the table. She sat you down beside her.

Discussion around the picnic table continued and Wanda poured you a glass of water from the pitcher at the middle of the table. You smiled gratefully at her and she was quickly reined back into the table’s conversation.

Unsurprisingly, she was pretty talkative with the table. You’d known how open and social Wanda was, you’d seen it yourself, but you hadn’t seen her interact with other people yet.

She was as charismatic as ever. She told jokes that everyone laughed at, and when she spoke, everyone at the table listened with their full attention. She was actively part of every conversation that took place between the table of mothers and their husbands.

It was comforting in a way, because with Wanda leading every conversation, you didn’t have to feel pressured to do anything but sit beside her and listen to everyone talk. You spoke when you were spoken to and felt completely content sitting beside Wanda, eating your food and occasionally participating in discussion.

Wanda was rather happy to have you sitting beside her. She looked at you with an adoring smile every time you answered a question or voiced your opinions on something, and she rewarded you by running her hand down your back or squeezing your shoulder, and a few times, she even grazed the back of her fingers against your thigh.

A voice called your name from behind and you turned to see Bruce waving you over. You stood from your seat and Wanda looked up at you.

“Come right back when you’re done, honey,” she told you.

You promised you would, then threw out your empty plate of food to head over to Banner.

From the picnic table, Wanda eyed you as you dashed around doing favour to favour, first starting with you being asked to bring back some papers from the classroom, which was only just down the road. She was eager to have you back the moment you handed Bruce his paperwork, but you were soon caught up being asked to run around only further by people who suddenly needed your help, from parents who wanted to talk with you to being asked to fetch things from inside the church.

“Wanda?” a woman at the table said, trying to get her attention. She waved her hand in front of her face and Wanda looked away from you, blinking out of her concentration.

With a superficial laugh, she replied, “Sorry. I must have zoned out there.”

Tommy and Billy came from playing carnival games with their father to settle down for a moment and sit on their mother’s lap. With her arms wrapped around her twins’ waists securely as they drank from her cup of water and ate from her plate, they told her how eventful their day had been and that soon their father would let them help one of his friends run his game booth.

After filling their bellies and hydrating themselves, they slid off of their mother’s lap and were nearly about to run back to Vision before Wanda took hold of their wrists and had them stand still while she reapplied their sunscreen in spite of their whines.

When she was finished, they ran back over to Vision and were practically hopping around anticipating the chance to help with the ring game.

Later, Monica came up to Wanda and tapped her on the shoulder. She was holding a clipboard in her arm and looking a tad flustered. “I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Wanda, but one of the booths are about to run right out of food, and normally we’d just have them close for the day but there’s a line for it right down the street, and—”

“I understand,” Wanda interrupted her frazzled rambling with a warm smile and stood from the picnic table. “What do you want me to do?” she asked with a supportive hand on the brunette’s upper arm.

“Oh, thank you.” She breathed out a sigh of relief. “There’s a rice cooker and a few vegetables they need diced in the church basement’s kitchen. Would you be able to cut a few of them and get some rice going? That’s all, and I’ll be down in a little to bring it out for them.”

Wanda nodded and squeezed her arm gently. “Of course,” she said and reassured Monica again when she was a flurry of apologies again. She excused herself from the table and walked over to the church, which was just across the road.

As she walked, she looked for you, hoping that perhaps she could get you for herself, even if that meant just dicing some vegetables in a church basement.

When she caught sight of you with a particular blonde standing by an inflatable bouncy house Dottie was put in charge of to watch the kids, Wanda felt a wave of scorn come over her. She watched from the church steps as you conversed with Dottie, the wide grin on her lips as she discussed God knows what with you.

What business could she possibly have with you?

Did she even have anything interesting or intelligent to say, anything that warranted the friendly smile that formed on your lips as you spoke with her?

Dottie never liked Wanda, which never concerned her too much until she began to question what kinds of things Dottie must’ve said about her to you. Wanda was self-assured in her reputation and confident in the relationship she’d developed with you, but the image she created in her head of the blonde’s snarky little smirk as she got in close to you made Wanda’s blood boil.

It’d been hard to make plans with you for the past few weeks and Wanda couldn’t help but wonder how many times you’d seen Dottie, and for the first time, Wanda felt strongly remorseful for how much time she put into things other than her personal life.

Have you ever visited her house for coffee?

Did you have her number too?

Tearing her eyes away from the two of you, Wanda continued up the stairs and into the church, where she felt her teeth clenching tight against each other in irritation. She headed downstairs and into the kitchen where she took out the refrigerated vegetables and set them out on a cutting board.

Then she looked through the cabinets for the rice cooker and immediately became increasingly vexed when she couldn’t find it. She knelt down by the bottom of the shelves where a mess of boxes and tupperware made it impossible to find the rice cooker if it were hiding there on the shelves somewhere.

Unbeknownst to her, Agatha had come in following behind her when she saw Wanda heading into the church in hopes of finally taking some time to catch up with her friend. When she went into the basement, she saw Wanda crouching down beside one of the kitchen cabinets, arms deep in a clutter of plastic tupperware and storage boxes.

She was making quite a mess, chaotically sorting through the cabinets with less of an intention to find whatever she was looking for and instead with the intention of simply taking out some form of anger on the poor boxes of plastic spoons and serving napkins.

“I can’t find this goddamned rice cooker,” Wanda hissed when she saw Agatha standing by the kitchen door frame.

“Cursing the name of the Lord in a church,” Agatha said in feigned disapproval then whistled.

Looking over her shoulder, Wanda shot her friend a poisonous glare then went back to searching for the rice cooker. After a moment, she stood up and slammed the cabinet door shut. “It’s not in here,” she snapped and brought a hand up to her forehead as she sighed out.

“I’ll look. Just cut the vegetables,” Agatha told her and looked through the kitchen while Wanda began rinsing the vegetables. She had no luck with finding the rice cooker either.

From behind her, Wanda was dicing a carrot slice especially aggressively and Agatha turned to see it practically diced to a sad little orange paste. “Honey…” Agatha muttered, leaning against the counter and staring at her. Wanda didn’t respond as she continued to dice the carrot slice into mush. “Wanda.”

She snapped her head up and bit, “What?”

Agatha pointed at the half-paste, half-solid pile of carrot. “I think you got it,” she said, her nose scrunched up.

Wanda looked down at it as if really seeing it for the first time then flicked it off the cutting board and into the sink. She continued dicing the rest of the carrot.

“Something on your mind, sweetpea?” the brunette asked and pulled off a bit of washed broccoli from its head before sticking it in her mouth.

“No.”

Agatha hummed, unconvinced. She continued to watch Wanda dice up the carrots and move onto the bell peppers with startling focus as if she was revenge-chopping the poor things. Then, feeling the need to tease her, she said, “I saw Y/N and Dottie talking outside.”

Wanda visibly bristled and she cut down particularly hard on a slice of yellow pepper so the edge of the knife met loudly with the plastic cutting board. “Did you now?” she asked with a steady voice.

“Have you gotten a chance to speak with her today?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And what?” she asked and looked up from the cutting board.

Slightly amused by seeing her friend so occupied by the thought of someone, Agatha admitted, “I was just wondering, because a few days ago Y/N asked how you were doing.”

“She did?” she inquired, untensing for a moment. Then she looked back down to the bell peppers and continued slicing them. “And what did you say?”

Agatha replied, “I said that you’d been busy. She said that she’d been texting with you but she wanted to know how you were.”

After some silence, Wanda asked, “Has she ever asked you about Dottie?”

It’d been such a long time since she’s seen Wanda behave like this. Repressing a little laugh but not being able to hide her grin, Agatha insisted, “You’re jealous.”

With a scoff and a mockingly amused smile, Wanda replied, “I am not jealous.” Then after a moment she added, “Who would I be jealous of? Dottie? Please.”

“I’d understand if you were. They seem to be quite close.”

At that, Wanda visibly tensed and set the knife down before saying, “How about you pick things up here, and I’ll head back home to fetch a rice cooker? I think I have one in my kitchen.”

It was more of an instruction than a suggestion, for she immediately rounded Agatha before waiting for her response and stormed out of the basement and out of the building.

When Wanda stepped outside, you were no longer standing around with Dottie but instead chatting with one of the teachers from the school’s staff. But Wanda was impatient and now set aflame by Agatha’s purposefully-baiting words, and she walked towards you until she could place a hand against your lower back.

“Hi, honey,” Wanda greeted with a soft smile when you turned your head to look at her. She looked over to Pepper, who you were in the middle of a conversation with. “I apologise, but I have to steal her away from you. I’m afraid I need Y/N’s assistance with something.”

Pepper was more than understanding and bid you a goodbye before Wanda circled her hand around to your hip, bringing you against her.

“Busy, are we?” she asked, looking at you as the two of you headed down the sidewalk to where Wanda’s car was parked.

Not picking up on what she was implying, you replied with a smile, “Not too busy, so I can help you. Where are we going?”

“Back to my place. There’s a rice cooker I need to pick up for the church and I need someone to help me look,” Wanda answered and let go of you to round the car and unlock the doors. She slid into the driver’s seat.

You buckled yourself into the passenger’s seat and immediately felt more comfortable having a break from the bustling crowds of people. And you were finally able to spend some time with Wanda again.

“Let me get you a drink,” Wanda offered when arrived at her house and passed by her kitchen. “It’s hot out there.”

You didn’t decline, for when you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth you realised how thirsty you were, especially after doing not much else but talking with people the whole time.

While Wanda poured what looked like homemade lemonade into a glass, she said, “I wasn’t aware that you were so popular, Y/N.”

You looked up, but her eyes were focused on the pitcher of lemonade. “I’m not popular,” you said, laughing a little at the mere suggestion. You stepped into the kitchen in front of the island counter where Wanda was pouring your drink.

“No?” She looked up from the glass and set the pitcher down. She chuckled a little and did away with your suspicions that she was upset with you. “It looked like everyone was lining up just to talk with you.” She slid your glass of lemonade over to you. “You didn’t notice?”

“I, um… Well, I guess not.”

Pleased with your simplicity, Wanda leaned against the counter and rested her cheek against the heel of her hand. “Don’t worry about it, sweetheart,” she reassured and watched you take a drink of the lemonade, her eyes focused on the way your lips parted around the rim of the glass. She felt far more comfortable than she was before now that she was alone with you, having you to herself and not having to worry about the next time you might be stolen away from her.

After a few moments of watching how cute you looked sitting at the island complimenting how good her homemade lemonade was, Wanda said, “Shall we start looking for the rice cooker? I believe it’s in the storage closet.”

You set the glass down and Wanda led you forward to the storage closet, which was just by the doorframe of the entrance to the kitchen. You searched through it then crouched down to start digging through the set of boxes on the floor.

Wanda’s phone buzzed with a text and she turned to take her phone out of her purse on top of the kitchen counter. The text was from Monica that read: ‘Agatha and I found the rice cooker!! I’m so sorry that you had to drive all the way back home.’

Keeping her expression still, she tucked her phone back into her purse then turned to you as you continued to dig through the lowest shelf of the storage closet. Her eyes were trained on your ass as you had your back turned to her unassumingly. She leaned back against the kitchen counter, watching you from behind.

“I found it!” you said and carefully manoeuvred a box out from the back of the closet. The rice cooker was still in its box, likely having been used about a handful of times since it was purchased.

To Wanda’s dismay, you stood back up and closed the closet door. But when you turned around with the most eager little smile on your face from having found what she was looking for, she felt warmed.

“Thank you, honey,” Wanda cooed and took the box from you. She set it down onto the kitchen counter by her purse. She turned back around and her breath hitched when she felt herself fueled with a twinge of adrenaline at the sight of you.

After weeks of being away from you and a chaotic day of watching you talk with nearly everyone else but her, Wanda reached out and wrapped her fingers around the corner of your shirt, gently tugging you towards her.

Your face flushed and you looked away from her, but the closer she brought you, the more difficult it became to do anything but look into her eyes that were trained on your face.

“Y/N, there is something I’ve been meaning to give you. It’s upstairs,” she whispered when you were close enough to hear the quiet hush of her voice. The tip of her tongue peeked out when she ran it across her bottom lip and she asked, “Would you mind coming up with me?”

You swallowed and felt yourself nodding, but you weren’t entirely sure if you really did nod or if you just imagined it; you sort of felt a bit lightheaded.

A ghost of a smirk formed on Wanda’s lips and she let go of your shirt before she led you towards the staircase and up to the second level of the house.

Your heart began beating faster in your chest as you continued to follow behind her nervously. You hesitated a moment when Wanda opened her bedroom door and stepped in, but eventually you forced yourself forward and followed her to the closed closet.

She turned around suddenly and asked, “Can I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“S-Sure,” you stuttered, feeling out of place.

Wanda stepped forward so her face was just inches in front of yours. “Have you ever been with a woman before, sweetheart?”

You felt no need to lie, and you felt no need to be embarrassed around Wanda although you felt that your face was warm and flushed.

When you nodded, Wanda added, “More than once?” She seemed increasingly interested at your second nod as she raised her eyebrows in piqued interest, a small intrigued smirk forming on her lips.

“You enjoyed yourself?” she asked, now overtly teasing you as her fingers ran down the collar of your shirt.

You nodded once more, and she was appreciative of your willingness to answer her questions with little hesitation. Then her eyes flickered up from your shirt to your face, curious juniper irises sinking into your focus. “And men?” she inquired with a slight tip of her head.

This time you shook your head and Wanda’s breath seemed to hitch, her interest now at an all-time high.

Her fingers tightened around the collar of your shirt and she pulled you towards her, crushing your lips against hers. She was quick to take control of the kiss and tip her head to the side. Her hand let go of your shirt and she wrapped her fingers around the back of your neck, releasing a soft moan in the form of a warm exhale into your open mouth.

She pulled you backwards with her as she reached for the knob of her closet door. She opened it and pulled you in then momentarily disconnected from your lips to search for something.

You were distracted by the sight of her lips that were parted to allow her to pant softly. You leaned forward and pressed kisses up her neck, causing Wanda to stumble back slightly and hum out with pleasured appreciation. Her fingers ran up the back of your head and were interlaced with your hair, encouraging you to continue kissing her neck.

Her head pulled back enough to uncover your eyes and she lifted an all-black silicone cock already attached to its harness up to your face. Your eyes widened at the sight of the toy and Wanda leaned down to press her lips against your ear so she could whisper, “I want you to fuck me.”

When she read in your expression that you were more nervous than shocked that Wanda had brought the topic up to you, she reassured, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, honey.”

“B-But I want…” You raised your head and looked at her with a determined look in your eyes. “I want to. I want to make you feel good.”

Wanda grinned and she kissed you. “That’s sweet of you, but I want you to enjoy yourself too. We can go as slow or fast as you’d like. How about you start whatever speed you’re comfortable with, hm? And we can work from there.”

“I know you’ve had better…” you said quietly, bouts of your insecurity evident in your soft, unsure tone of voice. Though you didn’t explicitly mention it, the both of you knew exactly what you were referencing.

Wanda wasn’t surprised and instead just grinned and asked in a teasing way, “Who told you about that?”

You looked away, embarrassed. You hadn’t meant to bring it up.

She leaned forward and kissed the corner of your mouth before grinning against it and saying, “Does that make you jealous?” She was looking up at you mischievously. Then you look away again, the other way so she disconnected from the corner of your lips.

Wanda walked forward so you were forced to walk back out of the closet and into her bedroom again. She closed the closet door behind her and nudged you backwards so you were forced to sit at the edge of her bed. She placed the strap down by your hip.

“Does that interest you?” she asked and began to unbutton her blouse as she looked down at you sitting on her bed with the most innocent little eyes. “Thinking about how I had a cock shoved down my throat while I jerked two more off with my hands, watching them stroke their dicks to how I was getting my ass fucked underneath them, cum in my hair and on my tits, being violated by all those braindead men just so I could get off until I was — almost — just as fucked stupid as they were.”

She giggled when you were in a deep stupor, eyes following her fingers and listening to her every word. She slipped her blouse off her shoulders and let it slip to the bedroom floor before working on her shorts, unbuttoning the top then unzipping it, revealing a maroon pair of panties that matched her bra.

“Well, you don’t have to think about that anymore,” she said when she was now only in her lingerie. She held your chin in her hands and tipped your head up to look at her. She stepped forward between your legs so your face was perhaps only an inch or two away from her tits. “Because what’ll be far more interesting is what I’m going to do with you.”

Wanda leaned down and kissed you, and with her other hand, began undressing you. You helped her and she couldn’t help but blush seeing how eager you were to have sex with her. She kissed down your body as she continued to undress your body.

“Besides, honey, it’s different,” she muttered against your shoulder as she kissed up to your neck. “It matters to me who I’m having sex with. Sex isn’t just a thing you do. It’s more than that. It’s about connection and passion, though sometimes it can be purely shallow. Like it was that time.

“But it’s far sexier doing it with someone you connect with. Don’t you feel the same?”

You met her eyes when she lifted her head, her hair coming loose from the hair tie that had been holding it back neatly through the day. “I agree,” you said to her.

Though you spoke little sometimes, overtaken by feelings of nerves and overwhelming libido, Wanda understood you completely. She liked how soft-spoken and sensitive you were. She couldn’t wait to have someone so delicate and gentle rough-fuck her from behind. How terribly she wanted to have you moan in her ear, telling her how much you loved her pussy.

She ran her hands up your sides, caressing your body with gentle admiration and affection. She kissed the swells of your breasts. “You’re such a sweet girl, Y/N,” she cooed and stood up once she fastened the harness around your hips. She brought your head against her chest and kissed your temple. She was so affectionate and was full of so much passion. Her touches were so soft as she led you further up onto the bed and climbed on top of you. Her hands rounded her body and she unclipped her bra so she could discard it onto the floor.

“Wanda, you’re so gorgeous,” you uttered as you ran your eyes up her body.

She allowed herself only a moment or two to blush at your compliment before she ran her palms up your chest and rubbed her still-clothed centre against your cock. “Are you just going to lay there and talk about it the whole time?” she questioned.

You gripped her hips harshly and pulled her down onto you so you could reach her lips and kiss them. Your hands adjusted their positions and you flipped her around and got on top of her, eliciting a tiny giggle from the older woman.

Moving down her body, you gently flicked your tongue across one of her erect nipples before you suddenly bit down on it, causing her to yelp and reach up to cradle the back of your head. You kissed the plain of her stomach, nipping at the soft flesh and running a flattened tongue over the stretch marks over her hips. She made a noise of appreciation and continued petting your head, watching you cover her body in your delicate traces of adoration.

Her hand moved to the side of your face and lifted your head, allowing her to turn onto her stomach and lift herself onto her elbows. When you straightened onto your knees, she lifted her ass into the air and pressed back against your strap.

Wordlessly, Wanda looked back at you over her shoulder with eyes that dared you to go further and an ass that stroked the length of your cock in the most mesmerising way you’d ever seen.

With shaky fingers, you pulled her panties to the side and found her wet cunt sticking to the fabric, pink folds glistening and sticking out from between gorgeous smooth thighs. Not being able to help yourself, you leaned down and ran your tongue through her pussy, making Wanda shudder. She tasted unbelievably good.

Your own cunt throbbed and you knew you had to do more. You parted from her sticky mess and pressed a kiss to the hood of her clit before straightening again.

Wanda hastily dug through the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a clear bottle then reached back and handed it to you. Quickly, you squirted the lube into your hand then lathered your cock in it. Wanda took the bottle back and discarded it somewhere on the bed, uncaring of where it ended up for the time being.

She whimpered when you ran the length of your cock along her cunt, especially when you took her folds between your thumb and forefinger and ran it right through. The lubed strap slid beautifully across the delicate pink and Wanda felt herself trickle down onto her throbbing clit.

Wanda encouraged, “Don’t rush if you don’t want to. That makes me feel really good.”

Her panties threatened to slip back into place and you became impatient and pulled back a bit, tugging her panties down her thighs and from her ankles.

“Someone’s impa–” Wanda was cut off suddenly when you shoved your cock into her without warning, making her gasp and flinch forward, eyes squeezed shut as she was forced to adjust to your size. It didn’t help that you immediately began thrusting into her, making Wanda nearly lose her balance and fall forward. But she kept herself up with her ass in the air for you.

She didn’t have time to think of how shocking it was that such a quiet and docile girl like you had such fire brewing within her, for she was immediately overtaken by her desire.

“Pull my hair,” she instructed between groans and you obliged, reaching forward and taking a handful of her shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. “Tighter,” she said, and you tightened your fingers into a stern fist, pulling Wanda backwards and watching as her back curved into a beautiful arch.

“Oh, that’s right, Y/N!” she yelped as you quickened your hips against her. “Perfect.” Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as you watched her ass redden and bounce from the harshness of your thrusts.

Wanda reached back to get your attention. “Spank me,” she told you.

Following her instruction, you brought your hand up and back down to deliver a harsh spank to her ass. You truly couldn’t believe the effect it had on her. She lost balance and laid flat against the bed, her arms being unable to hold herself up as she squealed out.

You spanked her repeatedly like she wanted, each time eliciting a tiny whimper from her with half her face buried in her blankets. You pulled your cock out of her and rubbed her throbbing clit with the pads of your fingers. She groaned when you left her and she looked back at you, watching as your eyes ran over her pussy.

Her cunt was swollen and so beautiful, the trimmed tuft of dark hair and the shade of soft pink glistening from the juices dripping from her hole that squeezed around nothing, desperate for more of your cock.

Her pussy was so, so perfect.

“Y/N,” Wanda said, speaking with a gentle rasp to her voice. “I can only be patient for so long. I need your cock.” She said it with a soft smile on her lips, and although her shoulder partially-shrouded it, you could see her cheeks were tinted a soft pink as she’d watched you look her over with such overwhelming admiration.

You pressed a kiss to her opening then straightened back up, repositioning yourself against her. You were distracted momentarily when you looked down and saw her looking up at you, green eyes still so full of appreciation for you.

Then suddenly she repositioned herself and turned onto her back. She sat up for a second and wrapped her arms around your waist before pulling you down onto her. Her lips met yours in a gentle, passionate kiss.

Wanda was amused by how distracted you were by her and she kissed your cheek while she reached down and entered your cock into her opening herself. Her legs wrapped around your hips and she tightened them around you, moaning into your ear as you slowly entered her again.

“Say that I’m a desperate slut who loves to get fucked.”

“W-Wanda,” you panted. “You’re a desperate slut that wants nothing but to get her pussy fucked.”

“That’s right,” she purred, her thighs tightening around your hips. “Mommy’s just a dirty bitch who’s nothing without a cock filling up her filthy fuckholes. Ah… Don’t you like that, Y/N?”

You squeezed your eyes shut and focused on fucking her how she liked, and a part of you almost felt bad for the way she degraded herself for no other lover you’d ever had has ever spoken like that. But fuck, Wanda was right — it was hot.

“I-I like that, mommy,” you confessed.

“Oh, I know you do.” She pet the back of your head. “Make mommy come, angel. I’ve had such a hard last few weeks, baby. Doesn’t mommy deserve to feel good? She does, doesn’t she?”

You opened your eyes and nodded, the sincerity in your eyes as you agreed that Wanda needed to feel good after the last few weeks making her melt. “I wanna make mommy feel good…” you mumbled. “Make mommy come.”

Wanda groped her breast then twisted her nipple between her fingers. You leaned down and wrapped your lips around her other hardened bud, making her moan out and arch her back up against your body.

Feeling her lower stomach tighten with a familiar, beloved pressure, Wanda wrapped her legs around your firmly and crossed her ankles against your lower back. She manually fucked herself up against you, bringing her hips up and meeting yours repeatedly in desperation. It was a messy out-of-sync attempt at first as you continued to thrust into her, but the both of you soon found a rhythm with Wanda fucking herself and you pounding her back into her bed.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she mewled into your ear. “I’m–”

She was cut off when her orgasm was wrenched out of her, and she arched her back up and clung onto you, her arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. Her fingernails scratched down your back and she cried out loudly, throwing her head back and exposing her neck.

You released her nipple and kissed up her neck until your lips reached her cheek and you could watch her orgasm come over her, your other hand cradling the side of her head as her eyes clenched shut and her jaw was slack, a guttural cry being pulled out of her.

Then finally she slumped back down onto the bed tiredly, her body a sore and sweaty mess of weak limbs. She shook with the tremors of her orgasm’s aftermath and you fell to her side, hugging her around her waist and burying your face in her sweet-smelling hair. She reached up and intertwined her fingers with your hair, fingernails gently scratching at the back of your head.

“That was the best sex I’ve had in a very, very long time,” she huffed out. She’d forgotten how good it felt to have sex wanting to have every string attached.

Wanda turned her head and looked at you. “Y/N,” she said seriously. She cupped your cheek with her hand and stroked her thumb against your soft skin. “I want to commit to you. And you only.”

You perked up and lifted yourself onto your elbow. “So we can… date?”

She laughed and pulled you down so she could kiss your cheek. She spoke against it, “You are the most unassuming, sincere person I have ever met.”

“I-Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes, honey.”

You practically beamed and Wanda could only laugh again, feeling such a warm burst of joy spreading through her at the sight of you and how happy you looked.

“I’ve never started dating someone right after having sex with them,” you said, looking down at her with your head above hers. Your hand was on her stomach, drawing gentle shapes against it.

“Does that bother you?” she asked quietly, lifting both her hands to either side of your face.

You shook your head immediately, the happy smile reminiscent of a small puppy.

A large smile pulled at Wanda's lips. “You are a terribly, terribly lovely girl, Y/N,” she said then kissed you. When she laid her head back down and looked up at you, the both of you exchanged a silent stare in which every hope for your relationship was conveyed in the silent fondness you shared looking at each other.

Wanda turned her head and looked at the clock on the nightstand. “I think we can get away with making me come one more time before we have to go back.” She moved herself closer to you and had you lay down beside her. “Make me come with your fingers.”

She spread her legs and rubbed her fingers against her wet folds while she tucked her other hand between your legs and met your cunt with them. She slid two manicured fingers into her pussy at the same time she entered you.

Eventually after a few moments when she’d become bored of herself, she pulled out and took your wrist, placing your fingers against her warm pussy. You started fingering her while Wanda continued with her own hand still tucked between your thighs, gentle and smooth and ensuring you could follow her lead, feeling with your tight walls the way she carefully fucked her fingers in and out of you.

“You feel amazing,” she uttered against your lips. “So wet.” She leaned forward and tugged at your earlobe with her teeth. “I wanna see you come for me.”

Wanda quickened her fingers and you did the same, following her obediently. Soon, the both of you were exclusively reliant on each other for your releases, mutual pleasure tying the two of you together in the sweaty meshing of your bodies amongst Wanda’s soft bed sheets and heavy exhales from your mouths.

Finally, with Wanda holding herself back until she felt you near your orgasm, the both of you came together, tightening around each other’s fingers and for a moment making it seem like you shared a body, crying out against each other and feeling the other come around their fingers as they felt themselves riding through their orgasms.

A few minutes later, the both of you were a cluster of two warm bodies, limbs entangled with each other. Your head was on Wanda’s chest as she stroked your hair and held your hand, your other idly running its thumb across the stretch marks that went up the side of her stomach.

The strap had been removed and was laying by the bottle of lube Wanda eventually found so she could be reminded to clean it properly later.

“Why all of this so suddenly?” you asked, looking up at her from her shoulder. “I mean, bringing me home and then confessing and everything.”

Wanda hummed and circled a lock of your hair around her forefinger. “I’d just had it on my mind for a while, and it’d been so long since I last had you to myself,” she explained. “So I suppose when we got time alone, I just couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Agatha said you were jealous earlier.”

Her face contorted and she looked down at you as if she thought she hadn’t heard it right the first time. At the sight of you and realising you were serious, she looked away and attempted to conceal her embarrassed expression with a laugh.

“What? Why would she–” She tried to chuckle, but it came out sounding nervous. “Agatha doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” she insisted with a shake of her head.

Then after a moment, more seriously albeit still hesitant, she asked, “Why did she say that?”

“She said you looked jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” Wanda asserted. “I wasn’t.”

You smiled, and for the first time, Wanda didn’t catch onto the subtleties of your expression because she was occupied trying to obscure her own. It didn’t take long for you to catch onto the fact that she truly had been feeling jealous earlier.

“Besides,” she said, “you’re mine now, so…” She looked over at you and pulled you close so her body was against yours. “No reason to feel jealous anymore, is there?”

With a grin, you climbed onto her lap and Wanda placed her hands on your hips. You leaned down so your foreheads were pressed against each other. “No reason at all,” you answered.

Wanda kissed you and you felt her grin widely against your lips.

“Good,” she said.

Neither of you realised nor would you care if either of you remembered that you’d both been expected back at the festival nearly forty minutes ago.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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avianyuh · 6 months

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S.Coups/Choi Seungcheol as a boyfriend

He would be so much fun

I think he'd love to go out to different restaurants with you

Or take you to the studio and have you hear his lyrics

Maybe even take you to the gym with him lol

You'd be Kkuma's other parent

Most likely, you'd watch over Kkuma while he was away on tour

Anyways, Cheol would be so protective over you

He's like that with the boys, so imagine being his partner

You ARE his baby

Somebody messed with you?

You will frequently be hearing, "Do I have to make a visit to someone?"

You're cold?

"Take my jacket! Do you want me to look for a nearby store, I'll buy you a new one?"

"No Cheol, I'm fine"

"No I really will, I'm ordering one right now for next time"

This man!

Most likely, he'd introduce you to either Jeonghan, Shua or Woozi first.

Reason I say Woozi is becuase they've known each other for so long, I'm sure he values Woozi's opinion

But with Seungcheol, I don't think he needs his members opinion when it comes to you

Mainly because he'd only introduce you to the members if he was serious about you

So I see him confiding in those three in the early stages of your relationship, not really when he's sure of you

When you're in the car, he drives with one hand, so his other hand is placed on your thigh

UGH

It's so hot

And no this is not made up, I have photo evidence that this man drives with one hand

Shexy Shtuff

Defo the type to 'wait it out' lmao

He wouldn't want you to feel used or anything

So during the first year, even if YOU wanted to have sex, he'd probably be like, "Uh, let's just wait"

I think he'd want to fully get to know you first

But when he feels like you're completely committed to him and vice versa

It's all free real estate

GIRL-

Woo

He's a switch

I said what I said

Yeah, he's a total daddy dom

But I think Seungcheol would like to be taken care of sometimes

Probably more submissive when he's tired but still in the mood for sex

And like I said, once he's committed, free real estate

This man will come home horny

Constantly ready to go

Especially after the gym when he's all sweaty

You jump him every time he comes home from the gym

Back to regularly scheduled programming:

He wants kids, and loves to talk about your future

How many kids you want

When you should start your family

One of his favorites things to do in your relationship is lay in bed, your head on his chest, him caressing your hair, staring up at the ceiling

And just talking about the future

What you both want in life

It's his way of making your relationship feel like you're still in the honeymoon phase.

Anyways...

Cheol would be a committed man to you

Gives the sweetest kisses

The type to kiss you all over your face when he sees you

Hypes you up with everything you do

Awkward and adroable

Choi Seungcheol,

SVT's dad

Your daddy ;)

~~~

{A/N; I told y'all I would write the coups headcanon. I literally cried watching him give the acceptance speech at MAMA lol, he looks like he's recovering well! BTW, if you have any requests, plz send them in, it seems like I only get BTS requests? Funny cuz I used to only get NCT requests and now it's completely switched. I kinda miss my NCT requests lol, if you have anything you want plz send it in! I've also been writing for some second gen idols (not published yet)

second gen idol fics are lacking on tumblr for some reason?...but that's another story

Anyways hope you enjoyed, mwah💋}

#scoups #seventeen #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #svt #svt as boyfriends #svt x reader #svt fluff #svt imagines #svt smut #svt fanfic #choi seungcheol

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camaro-and-smokes · 27 days

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The Family Values Program

The first chapter of a dystopian au we've been writing together with @aggressiveviking is finally online!

Summary: When society started to decline, morals deteriorate and disease wiped almost one fourth of the population in the United States, The Family Values Program (TFV) was launched—the last beacon of hope for the betterment of the American people.

Steve had thought he wouldn't need to join TFV thanks to his dad's riches, whereas Billy had done all he could to ensure he would be one of the few accepted to it, for his father's sake—hoping desperately to turn twenty-five before being matched and thus age out of the program.

So, when they got the message from the Matchmaking Service of a successful match, neither of them knew what to expect—and how badly wrong it had gone.

To Steve, finding out that he was matched with a man by mistake was just one problem. The more pressing one was his upcoming twenty-fifth birthday a week from now, effectively aging him out of the program. If their match was revoked, Steve would be cast out of the TFV zone, with a promise from his father for no financial support. Steve couldn't let that happen.

Read in full on AO3 >> (snippet under the cut)

:::::::::::

Billy Hargrove had one simple goal in his life - to age out of the Matchmaking Service. He only had one more year to go before he could be officially free and there was nothing his father could do about it, not even blame him because it wouldn’t be Billy’s fault. It was just dumb luck.

Being part of the TFV program had been the singular goal and regret that his father held. The Family Value program - a government-enforced and regulated family life. A man and a woman. A family. Idyllic, the way they showed it in movies, the way it was supposed to be before society had started to crumble. At least that's how they said it was.

It happened more than 30 years ago - the decline of culture and the end of moral values. The concept of marriage had lost its meaning, and it led to broken families, broken people, and broken values. It had been the catalyst for more than just personal tragedies. Billy’s father had been a victim of it as Neil Hargrove wouldn’t forget to remind everyone. An upstanding man, who wanted nothing more than to lead a good upstanding life, and take care of his wife and kids. He had been betrayed by his wife, who broke their family like it meant nothing.

Billy knew it was a load of bullshit, the bruises on his ribs proved it even now. His father was far from the person he pretended to be, who he imagined himself to be. It was true that his mother was a bitch for leaving, but it wasn’t because she left Neil, it was because she left Billy with Neil. How hard would it have been to just take him with her when she packed her bags and ran out? How much more would it have cost her? Billy doubted that she had even thought about that - she had only thought about herself. Because that’s what people were conditioned to do in those times.

Crime rates had been steadily increasing, so much so that law enforcement couldn’t keep up. With the increase in crime, death followed shortly. Diseases became rampant, a modern plague had wiped nearly one-fourth of the population of the United States. It was said that it was a biological weapon, meant to be sold - a simple exchange of death for money - but it spread without control, without a way to stop it.

At the peak of the horrors and tragedies, The Family Value program was launched - the last beacon of hope for the betterment of the American people. All efforts and resources were poured into making that campaign a success. Whole cities and towns were confiscated, and all citizens evacuated elsewhere as the program was established, as the walls were built, as the TFV centers were built of solid concrete in the center of it all, to last for centuries ahead as the beacon of light to the people, as the first step to order and prosperity.

The Matchmaking Service was the tool, the weapon that the government built to fight against the decay of society. The concept of the program was simple - to preserve and nurture the value of a healthy family, and the Matchmaking Service was what made it possible. Every person was encouraged to sign into the program with the promise of a good easy life - a home provided by the government, steady jobs - but not many were able to pass the heavy vetting process. Only the people who could prove they held family values close to their heart were qualified to be accepted into the program - the people who had a passion for living a good, honest life, who stayed in school, followed the law, and most important of all, had never had a marriage that had been broken.

Neil Hargrove did not qualify. And neither did his new wife Susan Mayfield. She had a broken marriage of her own - a messy divorce. Their kids however still had a chance, and while Susan simply wished a better life for her daughter Max, Billy’s father had steadily developed an obsession fueled by anger and bitterness. He was simultaneously doing his best to push Billy into being the perfect candidate for the TFV program, while at the same time, he was furious that he never had been given that chance himself. He didn’t forget to remind Billy of it.

Billy wanted nothing more to be done with all of it. 25. That was the age of the cutoff from the program. All legal adults could apply for the Matchmaking Service as soon as they turned 18. Once they had been approved into the program they only needed to wait to be matched at random with the person of the opposite gender who was going to be their life partner. No backing out, no second attempts - it was very simple, fail to do so and you were out of the program, permanently. But while the process wasn’t that complicated, the random matching of people had one little flaw. Some people ended up aging out of the system before they were given a match.

Neil Hargrove had made Billy sign up as soon as he could with no regard for what Billy wanted to do with his life. Not that Billy ever shared that with his father. He also didn’t share the fact that he harbored no attraction to the opposite sex… Something that Billy had no way of exploring living under his father’s roof and which he would never get to explore if he got matched with a partner in TFV program.

At the very start, Billy had been living in dread, every day waiting for that horrible message that marked the culmination of his father’s efforts and the end of Billy’s freedom for good. But then… the years were passing by and no message came through. A calm washed over him as the time grew near. He had been in the system for almost 7 years and there had been no match. For the first time in his life, Billy dared to dream. Perhaps life wasn’t as unfair as he had thought it was. Perhaps he would finally be given the freedom he deserved after almost 25 years of hiding, of pain, of fear… Maybe things were going to work out—

And as if in a cruel twist of fate the message came right when he had stopped expecting it.

Billy’s stomach dropped as he read the words written bold and bright on the screen of his com device while his hand shook.

Congratulations, it’s a MATCH!

He felt like he was going to throw up, his heart sinking into his stomach. Billy had hoped never to see the official message from the Matchmaking Service… but here it was. Mocking him, like a bad punchline to a joke, like everything else in Billy’s life.

He tried to take a deep breath but he only managed to choke as he pressed the button to read the rest of the message. The content of it was like a prison sentence. Not only had he been matched, but he was being relocated — Billy had known that could happen but he had been sure it could never happen to him. The location marked on the top read a town named Hawkins… in fucking Hickville Indiana .

Billy wanted to cry.

“Sign up to the program, Steve, or live outside your very privileged comfort zone for a very painful ten years. I am tired of trying to help you.”

Yeah. Those were Steve's father's last words before he had given Steve his ultimatum: time until Steve's twenty-fifth birthday to find a place of his own to live in and his trust fund locked for an extra ten years, only to be released to Steve's control when he turned thirty-five. He'd be stuck with the low life of society for the next ten years, trying to get along on a minimum wage from some shitty job.

Unless he got with the piece-of-shit program his parents held in such high regard.

If he did as his father told him to and signed up for The Family Value program, allowing the Matchmaking Service to choose him a wife by his twenty-fifth birthday, the trust fund would be released in his control on his twenty-sixth birthday. Which would be more tolerable to live with, considering his spending habits. And okay, other habits too...

He didn't shy away from living a full bachelor's life. Women lining up in front of him, allowing him to pick the cherries from on top. Since he'd been trusting in having all the money he'd ever need at twenty-five, he hadn't really thought on commitment . He would've bought a nice condo somewhere, lived on his own fund, and then chosen a life partner at his own pace. As late as possible, preferably.

Steve was a few months shy of twenty-five, the cut-off age for the program. He was sure that given some more time, he wouldn't have had any issues finding a match for himself. He could've just picked the prettiest one in sight. But the only one he'd really liked had been Nancy. She would've been nice to have a family with. He'd actually considered having kids with her. They would've had a nice life... Yeah. Until she broke up with him and swore never to come back.

And in all honestly he really didn't want to go with some one-night stand.

So, he was bitter. “You need to grow up, Steve. I am doing this for your own good.” Yeah, blah blah, as if. It wasn't like the money in the fund was his dad's. It was all basically interest on interest on the 5000 dollars he'd invested in the fund when Steve was born. Steve could've paid that back to him on the first day he would've controlled the fund.

But now he really didn't have any choice. Maybe he could live with a woman who he didn't get along for one year. Hopefully. And at least he'd have some control over the location and the style of the house, amenities, and so on. He would go with the largest available, his father could pull some strings to ensure that. He wouldn't have to move out of his home town and he could stay close to all his already matched friends and so on. If he had to tolerate a stranger, he might as well do it in style. And he'd have someone to cook and keep the house clean for him and decent pay to get along for a year. Maybe they could agree with the missus that when he had the fund, they could live separate lives while still married and she'd be as free to do whatever she wanted and see whoever she wanted and he'd cover her expenses from the trust fund.

Steve shook his head as he lay down on his bed and stared at the popcorn ceiling of his room. “Fuck the values,” he grumbled to himself the same night he signed up and hoped that the service would work quickly.

And it did, just a few weeks before his birthday.

Congratulations, it’s a MATCH!

Steve let out a sigh as he read the full message on his com device. Yes, his dad had come through with his promise to help with the living arrangements. A house with three bedrooms, four baths, and a swimming pool. It was a tolerable price for one year of... something. Not utter misery, hopefully.

Steve moved his most important stuff to the house the following day. The rest could be hauled over later. Not that he really had that much though, just a wardrobe full of tailor-made suits and shirts for his new job, ironically, at the management of the Matchmaking Service, and some other things for daily life.

He strolled around the already decorated and furnished house, nodding agreeably at the chosen materials, plush couches, and the large dinner table with a glass chandelier above it. On the second floor, he inspected the room that had been transformed into his home office, the junior bedroom, and finally the master bedroom. He took in the view that spread under the hill the house was on from the floor-to-ceiling windows. Closer were other houses like his and further, a busy city center and the concrete fences that kept the area separated from the second-class society somewhere in the distance.

Yes, he could live with this.

On the second day, he had pretty much settled in and was all the more content with the surroundings. He'd spend his last free day before the start of his new job just taking it easy and getting to know his match. He'd been informed that she was on her way and would arrive right about… now.

He was having a late breakfast at the dinner table when he heard the front door opening. He got up, took the bunch of roses he'd bought just for this moment in his hand, and walked to the foyer.

And he stopped dead in his tracks, very much not happy and very, very confused.

Read on AO3 >>

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #steve x billy #suometar writes #aggressiveviking #The Family Values Program

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empress-simps · 2 months

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A Gryffindor's Grief

Pairing: James Potter x Fem! Slytherin! Reader

CW: Reader's family and language

Genre: Angst

Masterlist

Note: My first ever marauders fic! Kinda nervous to post this ngl… I'm still thinking if I should make a second part. I want to hear what you guys think about this! Requests are open! Photos used are from Pinterest! Credits to the owner!

It was forbidden love, really.

Those little moments of not-so-accidental touches, stealing glances, and discreet smiles sent each other's way were your means of communicating with each other.

James Fleamont Potter, a Gryffindor boy that was absolutely smitten with You; Slytherin's Princess.

An odd combination that would only lead to chaos.

Being one of the sacred twenty-eight wizarding families meant that you command power and respect from everyone you meet— intentionally or unintentionally. The idea about blood purity, power, and influence was already in your mind as soon as you were able to grasp things your toddler brain could handle.

You were taught to only mingle with pure-blood families, people who could be useful and loyal to you, and those with power, influence, and wealth. Your family’s distaste for muggles and muggleborns were also ingrained into your mind, as if they programmed you to believe what they believed in. It wasn’t that hard, after all you were surrounded by rich witches and wizards who are blood supremacists.

For someone who grew up with those ideals and values, you thought it was right. Although, your belief came tumbling down the longer you spend time at Hogwarts and got to know James Potter and the rest of the Marauders.

James, he made you feel alive.

It felt as if he was the breath of fresh air that you never knew you needed. Away from that suffocating Malfoy Manor, the scrutinizing gazes of your family, and away from rich pure blood problems. Being with him felt exhilarating, he was the buzz in your life. James brought so much joy into your dark, lavish, and empty lifestyle.

It was quite funny, picturing him as your knight in shining armor, whisking you away from your pretty, gold cage.

"Malfoy!" Evan Rosier, a pure-blooded Slytherin raised his hand in your direction, motioning you to come over and sit beside him during breakfast in the great hall. Cold eyes like Lucius Malfoy's travelled in his direction, a questioning brow raised.

"Rosier, you are being too loud." She commented, walking, and sitting next to him before greeting the person beside him, Regulus Black.

"Good morning, Regulus."

"Good morning, Y/n."

Barty Crouch Jr. looked up from his meal and snickered at the both of you. "Good morning, Mum and Dad." He teased, greeting you both as Evan laughed along with the other Slytherins near them. Heck even Severus has a small smirk planted on his face. "If you wish to make your family line extinct, then please feel free to continue with your remarks, Crouch."

He smirked, putting his hands up in mock surrender "Just kidding, Y/n. Geez. Rough summer, I suppose?"

You felt your lips press into a thin line, an obvious answer to the question; It was horrendous.

Evan’s laughter slowly dies, he shakes his head, “Give her a break mate, she just got the biggest news of her life during summer. Isn’t that right Y/n-“

“Shut your mouth Rosier if you do not want to be hexed into next month.” Her empty threat really doesn’t do damage to Evan, he just shrugged, taking it as a warning that you’re not in the mood for jokes.

Your father, Abraxas Malfoy and older brother, Lucius Malfoy made a huge decision for your future. Hearing rumors here and there about their Slytherin Princess being romantically involved with a blood traitor in Gryffindor enraged your father, Abraxas. That will certainly not do, they will not sit idly and watch as the Malfoy name be... tainted with those rumors.

You remember how you felt dread entering your system, fighting the urge to run and throw up as you mustered up a façade, “Those are just baseless rumors, a plot to ruin my image in school." You held your head high, praying they do not see the truth.

Abraxas stared at you, his daughter, with a monotone expression. "Your brother and I do not care whether those ridiculous rumors are true or not." Lucius nods, agreeing. What a lie. You know your family well enough to not believe what comes out of their mouths in situations like this.

"We do not care if you had relations with the boy, even though it is rumored that he is a blood traitor, you knew well enough not to fool around with mudbloods. Well done, Y/n. Perhaps you could change his views, get him to join our cause.” Lucius looked at you. You could press your lips into a thin line, trying to find an answer.

“That tactless boy's role is to only be a bed warmer for you, remember that Y/n." Your father stood from the chair he sat in the drawing room. Slowly walking towards you. “Although, I suppose it ends now. I heard Lady Walburga Black is looking for a potential bride to their heir, Regulus Black.”

After a week, it was official; You are to be wedded to Regulus Black, your friend, Sirius’ brother.

You could not do anything about the arrangement, what fight would you have put up? A young girl like you, who does not have any power, influence, and wealth could only suck it up and accept.

How you wish it was James you were betrothed to.

“James, you came.” You breathed out, seeing him take off the invisibility cloak. The moonlight in the astronomy tower complimented his features, he offered a small smile sitting beside you.

The stakes were high, you were sure underlings of your brother (and possibly father) in the school have their eyes trained to you as you enter another year in Hogwarts. You would need to find new ways to meet up with your lover. Regulus’ eyes discreetly looked towards James, who is undeniably looking at you.

“Wouldn’t want for my girl to be alone, you know?”

He joked, intertwining his finger with you, a second nature to the both of you. Squeezing his hand, you softly looked at him. “I missed you, pothead.” He leaned towards your face, kissing you on the forehead. One of the things he does that never fails to make you feel flustered. “I missed you too, love.” You rolled her eyes, slightly shoving him playfully, “Stop being sappy, Pothead.”

“You secretly like it, love. You can’t lie to me.” He grinned, although the last sentence made you tense up. James shot you a concerned look, noticing your body language. “Something wrong, love?” You were torn, deciding on whether you tell him about the engagement rather than keeping quiet and leaving him in the dark about your current situation.

“I got engaged.” Before you could even stop yourself, the words flew out of your mouth. Shit. It wasn’t how she planned to tell him. The light atmosphere suddenly became dark and heavy. You can feel James turn rigid, freezing up as he muttered. “So, it was true, huh?” He scoffed bitterly, hurt overtaking his features. “James…” You gently called, carefully placing a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, turning his body away from you.

She tried to ignore the hurt she felt, pushing it down as she understood why James was acting this way. “Sirius told me.” He choked out, still not looking at you. James really does know you well, answering the question you haven’t even voiced out yet. The slight tremble in his voice made your heart crack. You bit your lip, of course Sirius found out; he was still a Black after all.

“I love you, James. I really do.”

You spoke to him, you raised your hand, about to put a hand on his back that was still facing you but deciding against it before it touched him. Your hands faltering before dropping down to your sides. He shakes his head violently, his curly locks getting messier than they already were.

“Don’t… Don’t say it like that, love.” He pleaded, slowly turning to face you again, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Don’t say it like you’re about to leave me. This. Us.” He croaked; you felt his large hands placed on top of yours. He brought it up to his lips, kissing the knuckles.

“James…” You managed to utter out, voice getting caught at the throat.

James knew he was acting like a child, but damn- he never thought it could hurt this much. He pictured both of you marrying each other, living in a large house with a big backyard because he insisted it will be great for when you have kids. Merlin, he even imagined about 3 or 4 kids looking like the perfect mix of you both, running out and about with their names already carefully thought out.

out. He daydreamed that the both of you grow old, watching you tell stories to your grandkids about their grandfather’s mischief during your years at Hogwarts.

“I have to, James.” She chokes out, tears spilling onto her cheeks. Those four little words made James’ little bubble of happiness burst with just a bat of an eye.

“Don’t… don’t do this to me, love.” He pleaded; he even went down onto his knees as he saw you standing up from your place beside him. Poor James, luckily it was only you, the moon, and the walls of the Astronomy Tower watched him become a wreck.

“I love you, please remember that you will always have my heart, James. I wish you find happiness.” The part ‘without me’ was unsaid but was heard. It took a lot of courage, strength, and self-control not to fall apart. Deep down, you wanted James to say the same to you, proclaiming his love again for the last time you’ll be together.

“I love you Y/n, so much. No one will ever make me feel the way you did. I’ll find a way; a way for us to be happy together. I swear on my life.” He promised, looking at you straight in the eye. You could only close your eyes before smiling at him, trying to blink the tears away. Stars, you hoped James really does find a way.

“Goodbye, Potter.” She turns, walking away.

Maybe Slytherins and Gryffindors really aren’t meant to be together.

#james potter x reader #james potter x you #marauders fanfiction #slytherin reader #james potter #marauders fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black #regulus black #remus lupin #harry poter

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sweetbans29 · 9 days

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Teach Me: The Ask - PB

Pairing: Paige Buecker x Reader

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: best friend vulnerability, smitten Paige

Word Count: 3.5

Teach Me Masterlist & Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Let's do this.

It's a Tuesday afternoon when a girl from your chem class asks you out. The two of you had been talking for the past few weeks and you had gotten a vibe - at least were hoping you were getting a vibe. Turns out, you were correct. She asked you to go out that Friday night.

You are literally over the moon. Truth be told, you were never one to date in high school or the beginning of college for that matter. The high school thing never really bugged you, but once you got to college and saw how much fun your friends were having hooking up, and sort of felt like you were missing out. It was always something that lingered in the back of your mind.

The thing that always scared you was your lack of knowledge. You had never done anything sexual. You hadn't even had your first real kiss yet, talk about embarrassing. I mean you kissed Jacob in middle school spin the bottle but never counted it because it was when you learned you didn't like boys.

But now that all that is changing. Not like you are going to treat your chem date as one of the girls your friends bring home, but you also don't want to be completely clueless as to what to do if it does ever go there.

The now excitement turns into fear as you run through all the possibilities of how your inexperience could end something that hasn't even begun. In your irrational thinking, there is only one person who you can think of that could help you.

Paige Bueckers and you met in high school. Your dad was the high school girls' basketball coach, where Paige played during regular season all four years. You knew everything your dad knew about the game and were often his assistant coach even though you were also still in school. Nobody understood why you didn't continue playing after middle school and you honestly never really talked about it. All they knew was that your knowledge of the game was something that could take you places.

You were instantly impressed by Paige when she made the varsity team her freshman year. Your dad led a pretty excellent program for high school which caused families to move to your hometown to have their daughters play for him. He was also on the board of a club program which usually kept him pretty busy and you as you were always with him.

Paige was a player your dad had been following since she started middle school and playing at the club. You also had an eye on her and were impressed by how refined her skills were. So when she came and tried out for the high school team, she was tough to place. You thought she should have been on JV for a year before stepping up into varsity but your dad argued a good case as to why she should be on varsity.

She was one of 4 girls in your dad's career who had come in as a freshman and made varsity.

Paige and you actually butted heads during both of your freshman years. You would try and coach her and she would dismiss you immediately - only listening to your dad. I mean you couldn't really blame her, you were the same age as her trying to tell her how to be better at a sport you didn't play anymore.

It wasn't until the end of the season your guy's freshman year that she saw the value in you. It was during the State Class Tournament when the team was down by 10 in the last quarter and you were coaching the offense while your dad was coaching on defense. It was then that she truly saw your knowledge of the game and how you weren't just pulling stuff out of your ass.

The team won the championship - your first time and your dad's like 12th. It was after that game, while everyone was celebrating that Paige came up to you and apologized for being so dismissive all season. You told her not to sweat it and the rest is history.

The two of you became best friends sophomore year of high school. It was easy as you were a part of the team but not a player and Paige appreciated having a friend who didn't share the court with her - I mean you shared the court with her but in a completely different capacity. The two of you worked extremely well together when it came to the game and found out that you also enjoyed each other's company outside of the gym. It was like you two had an unspoken language and were able to communicate without anyone hearing a word.

Your friendship only continued to grow over the years. You became Paige's right hand when it came to playing ball - you knew the way she played like the back of your hand. You could tell her where she had gone wrong or where she could improve before she even made a move. When she committed to UConn, you knew that would be where you go. Your dad approved and you knew you could continue learning the game.

During your freshman year, you and Paige dormed together. You continued to watch her game and help her become a better player at a college level. You also got super close with her team. You fit in perfectly. For most of the time, that wasn't an issue - hanging out with the girls and spending time with them. The only time it became an issue is when you see them more than Paige. You love your best friend, but there are times when she gets a little territorial.

The first time you noticed this was in high school, it only happened once or twice but it was bad.

There was this one time during club season (about a year into your friendship) when you had gone to a tournament with your dad. Paige was playing and she knew you were going to be there. Granted, before the tourney you had told her you were going to be scooping out players with your dad. She knew you weren't there to watch her play.

As the day progressed, so did her game. She kept missing shots and couldn't get out of her head. And to top it all off - you were nowhere in sight. Paige knew that whenever she was off, you would be there to tell her exactly how she could fix it, even if it was just a knock upside her head to tell her to stop overthinking.

When she would have a moment, her eyes would scan the crowd for you but she could never find you. The frustration started to build up in her that by the end of the tournament, she didn't make a beeline to you (not that she knew where you were) rather just went straight home.

When you and your dad were finished, you looked at Paige's location on Find My Friends and noticed she was already home. Your heart sank a little seeing as she did come find you but shake it off.

A day passes and you hear nothing from Paige. Typically you wake up to a minimum of 3-4 notifications from her, whether it be texts, missed calls, or some video or meme she has sent. The next morning there was nothing.

You try and give her a call but no answer.

It is about 10am now and still nothing from Paige. You see she is at home and decide to make your way there. When you get there her dad is out working in the garage and greets you. He lets you know Paige has been out back working on her shot all morning. YOu thank him and make your way out to your best friend.

When you walk out she is locked in on a shooting drill. You stand there and watch her - already seeing what you had seen yesterday. You weren't able to watch full games for your best friend but every chance you got, you would sneak over to see how she was doing. You knew she was off and how she could adjust but every time you had an opportunity to go talk to her, your dad needed you with him.

"You're pulling your shot - your elbow and wrist aren't aligned. You lose it a second before your release causing you to shift right." You say to the girl who keeps missing about half of her shots.

Paige wants so badly to look at you and say she needed you yesterday but she still boils with an unknown anger. She says nothing.

"Paige, what's going on?" You ask when she doesn't respond - you even used her first name, and you never used her first name. Still no response from your stubborn friend as she goes up for another shot - missing it. You have seen enough.

You walk up to her, take the ball, and throw it into the yard. If she wants to play this game, she needs to know that 2 can play.

"What the hell?" She yells, finally looking at you.

Her look says more than you imagined it would. At first, all you see is the anger that she has been holding for the past 24 hours. But as you both stand there just staring at one another, you begin to see the hurt that lies behind it maybe even a hint of jealousy. There is something else in her eye but you can't quite pinpoint that one yet.

Your eyes soften as you look at the blonde in front of you, waiting for her to take the lead. You are wholeheartedly expecting her to yell at you for something you still have no idea about. And you're ready to give it right back to her.

The yelling never comes as Paige finally breaks eye contact with you and looks down.

"You weren't there." Is all Paige says. She continues to look down and behind picking at one of the nails.

"What are you talking about B?" You ask, needing her to be more specific.

"I needed you and you weren't there," she says again. You wrack your brain for what she could possibly be talking about when it clicks. Even though you saw what her issue was yesterday - you never corrected her during the game.

"That's what this is about?" You ask, your heart breaking slightly from the sight of your best friend's vulnerability. You see a switch in her flip and know you are about to get feisty Paige.

"You were at the tournament for the entire day and didn't come over to watch me for a second! That single-handedly was one of my worst tournaments and couldn't figure out what was going wrong. The day just kept getting worse. I would scan the crowd for you and you were nowhere in sight, off at some other court watching some other girl that wasn't me." She whispered the last part to herself more than you.

You wait a second, processing what she is saying and waiting to see if there is going to be anything else. When nothing else comes, you speak.

"During game three, is when you started pulling your shot. It started when no.15 from the other team fouled you midshot and you fell to the ground. That is why you missed your first free throw. Your next game was even worse - that is when you started getting in your head. Your shooting percentage was down 20% and you couldn't shake it because you were fully in your head at that point. Game 5 was the worst of them all because you had just given up on yourself. Your shot was all over the place as you were trying to adjust every single one you took. I was there P, you just couldn't see me." You say with a matter-of-fact tone.

"And it is my job to watch other athletes! You know this! That is why I started watching you," you finish looking at your best friend.

"You saw?" Paige asks.

"Of course, I saw B, you're my girl," You say using her nickname. Everyone always calls Paige either by her name or first initial. You, on the other hand, call her by her last initial. You are the only one she allows to call her by it. It started when you would only call her by her last name freshman year, never using her first name and it drove her crazy. When the two of you became best friends, you shortened it to B. She didn't know how she felt about it until you mentioned it you liked it because no one else called her that and you wanted a special nickname that only you use. Hence, her shooting daggers at anyone else who tries to call her by your nickname.

Paige's heart tugs when she hears you call her 'your girl'. That's all she really wants but values you too much to make any sort of move. She has come to terms that a friendship is all the two of you will ever have and is okay with that knowing you will always be there. But it is in moments like this that she wants more for the two of you.

She waddles over to you. You open your arms to embrace her. She walks into your arms and you hug her, she doesn't hug you back but stands there like a child with her head in your neck.

That night you spend the night at her house. The two of you have a movie night and Paige falls asleep to She's the Man and you stoking her hair.

You are running back to your apartment to see if Paige is around and find your apartment filled with girls from the team. They are all doing an IG live. You smile at the girls before you and know you need to wait to talk to Paige. You quietly make your way to your room but don't go completely unnoticed.

As you are making your way over, Paige's arm reaches back and squeezes your knee. You give her a smile and run your hands through her hair.

She lets out a little moan, not loud enough for anyone to hear except herself.

You are grateful you are covered by Azzi and another girl. There have been several times the two of you have had to mitigate dating rumors and didn't want to deal with that tonight. You head back to your room and lay on your bed scrolling through IG, waiting for the girls to finish up.

It also gives you time to think through how you want to approach talking to Paige. She is the only one you trust with something so intimate.

I mean not only is she your best friend, but since the two of you got to college she has been pretty active and I don't just mean playing ball. The two of you talked about her habits early on. She was allowed to bring girls home on weekends or after games and all you asked is that she didn't mention any details and that they were gone by the time you had to be up in the morning. Her sexual life never affected you. If you were honest, you were glad at least one of you was getting laid.

You hear the girls start saying their goodbyes and that is your cue that the live has ended and it is safe to make your way to tell them bye.

Making your way out, you head to the group. You say bye to all of them and they leave your apartment.

"How did it go?" You ask Paige as she grabs an apple and takes a bite.

"It was aight, they did a Q & A which was fun." She says as she wipes her bottom lip.

You start to feel nervous and begin fiddling with a paper on the counter.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" She asks noticing your nervousness. You give her a smile, always loving when she calls you pretty or any pet name really. It's endearing.

"I have to ask you something - and I don't really know how to ask it so I am just going to come out and ask," you say beginning to ramble. "You can say no, but I am only asking you because I know you and you know me and I trust you."

"Spit it out ma," she says going in for another bite of her apple.

"Willyoushowmehowtobeintimatewithagirl?" You say faster than you could breathe.

Paige chokes on her apple and begins to cough. She doesn't think she has heard you correctly.

"B, are you okay?" You ask patting her on the back. She takes a step away from you and you retreat a little yourself.

This was a bad idea, you think to yourself as you begin to feel embarrassed by the ask you have of your best friend.

"Repeat what you just said," she says, telling not asking. You open your mouth and she clarifies, "Slower this time."

You gulp, feeling even more nervous than before.

"Will you," you say with another gulp. "Will you show - teach me how to be intimate with a girl?"

Paige's mind is racing - almost as fast as her heart. She wants to say yes immediately but has done such a good job of hiding her feelings up to this point.

"You want me to show you how to fuck girls?" She asks bluntly.

You blush at her directness.

"Well that and more," you say. "You know, like what to do and what feels good. What girls like in bed and stuff but also like how to kiss and stuff." You can't look at her when you ask the last part.

Paige's head is now spinning and beginning to throb. And trust me when I say her head is not the only thing that is beginning to throb.

You begin to feel like you are asking too much of your best friend.

"B, you are the only person I trust and you know I am a literal child when it comes to being intimate with someone. I would never ask anyone else because they don't know me like you do and I know this wouldn't change anything between us." You say.

Paige is now leaning on the counter with her head in her hands. She is just trying to get the image of you, laying out before her - exposed, out of her head before she takes you right here on the kitchen counter. Her skin is buzzing.

"Paige," you begin and her head whips up. You are too caught up in your own nervousness to notice how her pupils are dilated.

"Why now?" She asks.

"A girl from one of my classes asked me out on Friday and I want to be prepared for anything," you say slightly embarrassed.

Paige's heart fills with jealousy thinking about another girl taking you out and making you laugh. Thinking about her touching you and making you moan her name.

A fire begins to burn in Paige. She is in a complete internal battle with herself. Why would she show you how to make someone else feel good? But at the same time, she absolutely hates the idea of you with someone else and if she is your first - she would at least have that.

You touch her arm as Paige's skin feels like it just went up into a burning pile of flames. When did you get so close to her?

"If this makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to do it." You say looking deep into her eyes.

She could stare into your eyes forever. You really don't know the effect you have on her. Paige would move mountains for you. She would do anything to make you happy even if it caused her pain. She would give you her last breath if it meant she got to see you smile one last time. As much as she knows this is a bad idea, she knows how much it took for you to ask her. She knows how uncomfortable you get when someone hits on you in a bar or when someone gets too close. She knows your ask is genuine because you used her first name.

Paige takes a moment to gather all of her thoughts then takes your hand.

"I'll do it," is all she says before you jump in her arms. Her arms wrap around you and she inhales the scent of your shampoo.

"Thank you so much B! I promise to be the best student ever," you say as you give her a squeeze.

She doesn't say it, but that is exactly what Paige is afraid of - you being her best. You being her best but not hers.

AN: First part down! Let me know what you think! This series will be posted every Sunday until The End is posted. I hope you enjoyed it. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers imagine #uconn huskies #uconn #uconn wbb

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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"While tourists visiting Mexican beaches complain about piles of smelly seaweed, one Mexican gardener reckoned it was something like a gift.

The governments in places like Cancun have been required to clear away as much as 40,000 tons of sargassum seaweed, which smells like rotten eggs, but Omar de Jesús Vazquez Sánchez is steering it away from the landfills and into a kiln, where he makes adobe-like blocks that pass regulation as a building material.

He started SargaBlock to market the bricks, which are being highlighted by the UN Development Program as a stroke of brilliance, and a sustainable solution to a current environmental problem.

His story begins back in 2015 when, like any experienced laborer, he found rich people were stuck with a job they didn’t want to do. In this case, it was cleaning up the sargassum on the beaches of the Riviera Maya.

Omar grew up in poverty, immigrated to the US as a child to become a day laborer, and eventually dropped out of school and became a substance abuser. The American dream never appealed to him as much as a “Mexican dream”—a mix of memories from his childhood and dreams of being a gardener back home, so he moved back.

His time feeling unwanted as an addict and immigrant gave him a unique perspective on the smelly seaweed.

“When you have problems with drugs or alcohol, you’re viewed as a problem for society. No one wants anything to do with you. They look away,” Omar told Christian Science Monitor in a translated interview.

“When sargassum started arriving, it created a similar reaction. Everyone was complaining, I wanted to mold something good out of something everyone saw as bad.”

The ecology and environment offices of Quintana Roo, the legislative area that includes the city of Cancun, approved the SargaBlocks for use, and similar organic-based blocks have been reckoned as being capable of enduring 120 years.

The UN Development Program selected Omar’s work to be featured in their Accelerator Lab global broadcast to alert the world of its value and ingenuity.

There are all kinds of naturally-occurring pollutants or burdens that could be used in construction, and the UNDP hoped that by sharing Omar’s vision of the future of the Caribbean’s sargassum problem, it would inspire others to act in similar ways.

Bricks and cement can be great sources to use up naturally-occurring material that’s dangerous or burdensome—like this Filippino community using the ash from volcanic eruptions to make bricks.

Omar has been fortunate enough to be able to donate 14 “Casas Angelitas,” or homes made of SargaBlock, to families in need, and seems to be exceedingly close to achieving his “Mexican dream.”"

-via Good News Network, 4/24/23

#mexico #caribbean #seaweed #sargassum #construction #architecture #cancun #quintanaroo #riviera maya #immigrants #united states #sustainability #solarpunk #good news #hope

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twinsimming · 8 months

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New Scholarships by Twinsimming 🎓

"Need some extra simoleons for university? Sims University now offers a variety of scholarships for prospective students!"

This is a script mod that can be placed in your Packages folder. It was built and tested on 1.69 but should work fine on 1.67.

Requirements

To access all of the scholarships available with this mod, the following packs and store content are required:

The Sims 3: World Adventures

The Sims 3: Ambitions

The Sims 3: Generations

The Sims 3: Showtime

The Sims 3: Supernatural

The Sims 3: Seasons

The Sims 3: University Life

The Sims 3: Island Paradise

The Sims 3: Into the Future

Fit As a Fiddle Violin (The Sims 3 Store)

Artisan Glassblowing Station (The Sims 3 Store)

Stiff as a Board, Light as a Feather Dance Floor (The Sims 3 Store)

Overview

Applying for Scholarships

Types of Scholarships

Maintaining Scholarships

New Moodlets

Online Aptitude Test

New Cheat

Applying for Scholarships

Teen sims and older have a new “Apply for Scholarships” interaction available at the school rabbithole or on the computer under “Sims University Online”. Though they’re less likely to win a scholarship if they apply online rather than in person.

If your sim wins a scholarship, they will not be able to reapply for that scholarship again. If they do not win, they will be given a Disappointed moodlet and have to wait a day before applying again.

Types of Scholarships

There are four (4) types of scholarships your sims can apply for: General, Legacy, Skill Based, and Occult. In total, there are 18 scholarships, each with their own custom moodlet.

Sims have a 45% chance of winning a scholarship in the General, Legacy, and Occult categories when applying in-person and a 40% chance when applying online.

Sims have a 6% chance of winning a Skill Based scholarship at Level 1 of the required skill. This chance multiplies with each skill level, with a maximum of a 60% chance at Level 10.

Certain traits can either increase or decrease your chance of winning a scholarship by 5% (note: this value stacks the more traits your sim has):

Increased Chance Traits - Lucky and Ambitious

Decreased Chance Traits - Unlucky and Loser

Some of the scholarship names are originally from The Sims 2 and the others I made up myself. They are listed below by category:

General

Young Entrepreneurs Award (§750) - Requires Level 3 part-time job, Teen only

Orphaned Sims Assistance Fund (§750) - Requires deceased or non-existing parents, Teen only

Golden Year Scholars Grant (§1000) - Elders only

Gemini Hidden Masters Prize (§1500) - Requires Level 10 in one hidden skill

Legacy

Student Service Workers Fund (§1000) - For sims with a service worker hidden trait (Makes No Messes, Pyromaniac, Can Apprehend Burglar, Can Salute, Immune To Fire, or Pizza Appreciator)

Cultural Exchange Program (§1000) - For sims with one of the hidden culture traits from The Sims 3: World Adventures

Students of Tomorrow Scholarship (§1000) - For sims with the hidden Future Sim trait from The Sims 3: Into the Future

Skill Based

Dreamer Family Artisan Award (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Artisan Skill

Tsang Footwork Award (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Dance (Store) Skill

Violin Society of SimNation Scholarship (§750) - Requires at least Level 1 Violin Skill

Occult

Undead Education Scholarship (§1500) - For Vampires, Zombies, and Ghosts

Extraterrestrial Reparation Grant (§1500) - For Aliens and sims recently abducted by Aliens

Spellcasting Scholars Grant (§1500) - For Witches, Fairies, and Genies

Lycanthropy Philanthropy Fund (§1500) - For Werewolves

Bots Opportunity To Specialize (B.O.T.S.) (§1500) - For Simbosts and Plumbots

Forbidden Fruit Fellowship (§1500) - For PlantSims

Real World Acclimation Fund (§1500) - For Real Imaginary Friends

Aquatic Allies Award (§1500) - For Mermaids

Maintaining Scholarships

After winning a scholarship, your sim will get the new custom Won Scholarship moodlet. They have a week to either enroll in online university with my Attend University Online mod, or in-person university to remain eligible for their scholarship.

If they fail to enroll in time, their scholarship will be rescinded and they will have to pay back the money they were awarded. If they can’t afford to pay back the scholarship amount in full, it will be added to their next household bill. (No free money here!)

Once a sim has a scholarship rescinded, they will get the new custom Lost Scholarship moodlet and be barred from applying for scholarships for 3 days.

New Moodlets

Won Scholarship: Given when a sim wins a scholarship, lasts 1 day, +20 mood, each scholarship has its own custom moodlet icon

Lost Scholarship: Given when a sim has a scholarship rescinded, lasts 3 days, -20 mood, makes sims stressed

Online Aptitude Test

Teen sims and older can now take the university aptitude test on the computer under “Sims University Online”. It works the same as the default interaction.

Tuning

All of the tunable values can be found on the mod download page under the header “Tuning”.

New Cheat

If you want to clear all scholarship winners in your world (on a per save basis), enter the cheat menu and type “ClearScholarshipWinnerData” without the quotation marks.

Conflicts & Known Issues

This is a new script mod so there shouldn’t be any conflicts.

Credits

EA/Maxis for The Sims 3 and The Sims 4, Visual Studio 2019, ILSpy, s3pe, Notepad++, and Script Mod Template Creator.

Thank You

Thank you to gamefreak130, Battery, @zoeoe-sims, @greenplumbboblover, and @monocodoll!

If you like my work, please consider tipping me on Ko-fi 💙

Download @ ModTheSims

#sims 3 #ts3 #sims 3 mods #ts3 mod #download #my mods #new scholarships mod

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angelstate · 4 months

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Husband!Soap x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Soap is one hell of a lover, he is everything you could ever ask for in a man. He is attentive and caring, he truly appreciates you and loves you in a way that shouldn’t be possible for humans to feel.

He does everything he can to show you just how deeply he feels about you, and it manifests as much in little things as in the big things. For example, your favorite tea is always restocked in the pantry, the washer and dryer are always empty and the clean clothes are neatly folded in your bedroom closet. The bills of the water and electricity services never meet your eye because he pays before you can see the cost of it, he knows you get anxious and worried about that sort of thing.

He is honest about his feelings and you’re always what he has in mind, he likes you and loves you so much to the point he feels like kneeling at your feet and just worships you in every way he can, more than sexually, his love goes beyond that.

you could come up to him one day and tell him that he could never touch again and his feelings wouldn’t falter for one second, he would make do with only being able to admire you like he did for years before he even dared to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Husband!Soap would take the fault for every one of your mistakes, if you break a plate in his parent's house he would say it had been him, if you’re arguing about something he would apologize first, knowing that it wasn’t worth time to yell at each other for something that was a mistake.

He knows you’ll apologize too after you calm down, not wanting to be trapped between high emotions when saying something meaningful to him. you value the control you have over your words and he is a patient man, he would wait a lifetime if it meant to hear you speak so time isn’t wasted with him, every second he experiences your existence is heaven to him.

Husband!Soap hopes for the day the two of you have children, he wants a family with you, wants to build something of himself that is fully constructed in a foundation of love and safety, the one he didn’t necessarily have as a kid.

He wants a big family in the countryside, a view of hills of greenery, tall trees, flowers, and fresh air every morning, to be woken up by the sight of you lying beside him in bed, your pretty face relaxed and messy hair all over your pillow while the sun creeps in from between the curtains, your children sleeping in their bedroom the quietness of the home being something short-lived when they began to wake up, he wants to grow old by your side, raising a beautiful family.

He allows himself to dream about it more than he cares to admit, he knows it won’t happen in a very long time, his job, your career, and other problems stopping the two of you from taking that step but he is a patient man, and he rather takes his time than rush things and risk losing you in the process.

Husband!Soap is a good man, he knows he did everything he could to make your time together merry and happy, to fill it with more good memories than bad ones. and he allows himself to think he did a good job at loving you while he could.

so when he gets shot on the side of his head and the last 7 minutes of brain activity the body is programmed to experience before ultimately dying begin, his mind is plagued with you, meeting you, becoming your friend, asking you to be his girlfriend but most of all, your wedding day.

and it is as if he’s experiencing that day all over again, your voice as you read to him your vows, how sweet of you to write personal ones, full of inside jokes and promises you had made him years ago when you first started dating. He remembers feeling his heart flutter on his chest.

but right now, lying on the cold floor his heart cannot flutter, but the tears falling from his eyes do the job just fine because the memory as beautiful as it is makes him feel extremely sad, he doesn’t want to leave you behind, he wants to live longer, to experience more things by your side.

He wants to have children with you, he wants to see the passing of time affect the two of you, to see the smile lines on your face and know that was his doing, that a lifetime with him granted you marks of happiness in your skin.

He wants more time, God, he wants an eternity with you, he wants as much time as he can get.

He remembers your face when he came home early a few months ago, the excitement filling in the void in your eyes when you first opened the door, he remembers the weight of your body on his arms as you had jumped on him, wrapping your limbs around him and not letting go.

what he would do to see that face again, to hear your squeals of happiness next to his ear and feel the softness of your hair in between his fingers. if he knew that would be the last time he came home to you he would’ve done so much more.

he would’ve fixed the creek of the door, he would’ve washed the dirty clothes on the laundry basket, he would’ve cooked your favorite meal and hugged you just a bit more tightly.

He knows he did his fair share of bad things in the world, but you were nothing short of an angel, you didn’t deserve his death as much as he deserved to die. He knows the fragility of your heart, he knows that you’re a sensitive being that can only be treated gently, and he is afraid death isn’t kind, that grief will swallow you whole before you get a chance to realize that your life shouldn’t end because he did.

Husband!Soap loves you more than you could ever imagine, so when the 7 minutes of brain activity ends, he goes out with the image of your face in his mind, your voice muttering that everything is alright, that you love him as much as he loves you.

you were everything, the sole reason he wished for a brighter future and the reason he died a happy man.

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