#the ''oh no my lawyer/employer is cute'' moment

[kurohaai]

Cute babe, her babe lawyer, and their thirdwheeling blind cryptid clown.

Blue Ofi & Purple Das - mine Teal Yleeda - @heuristicallyinclined 's

#Homestuck #Hiveswap #Fantrolls #Bloodswap #Ofelia Asvini #Yleeda Vulfen #Daseer Wanlyn #doodle #Kuroha Ai #to contrast the last BAMF Blue Ofi: she's still Ofi inside #her flushed approach would still be very much Ofi™ #the ''oh no my lawyer/employer is cute'' moment #Das is there too I g #exerting his BG character power to the fullest nothing can record his figure

[jq37]

The Case File – Mice and Murder Ep 1

The Case of the The Pernicious Party  

Hello, hello, hello! It’s been a hot second but your resident D20 recapper is back to tackle the newest season: Mice and Murder! Y’all had to know I wasn’t gonna sit out the murder mystery, are you kidding me???

I might be playing around with the format a bit in the coming weeks to make sure I have the best possible system for keeping track of possible clues, suspects, and theories as we untangle whatever web Brennan weaves for us this season so don’t be surprised if things change a little. 

Anyway, without further ado, onto our mystery!

Summary

In case you missed it, this season takes place in an alternate, Zootopia/Wind in the Willows-esque universe where all the characters are animals but history seems to have happened in more or less the same way--for example there was still a King Charles but he was a King Charles Spaniel (cute Brennan). Our story specifically takes place in the English village of Tufting Meadows.  

We start with Katie’s character--Gangie Green (Weasel/Thief Rogue) in the graveyard of the Anglican Chapel (Our Lady of Prayerful Paws). Gangie, we learn, is an orphan who was kicked out of the orphanage at some point for thievery. Obviously, he’s not reformed of the habit because he is here to do some graverobbing. On a nat 20 (that Katie hilariously doesn’t notice even though her total is like a 29) Gangie can see through the window of the rectory that there is a weeping window inside--Catherine McCabbage who is being (dubiously) tended to by Raph’s character, Vicar Ian Prescott (Owl/Bard, College of Eloquence). 

Ian comes from a line of men of the cloth but he’s not exactly the best speaker despite his subclass. He’s doing his best though! The widow’s husband (Conor McCabbage) died at the local mill in what has been declared an accident but she suspects foul play. She’s been hearing his voice on the wind and wants Ian’s professional opinion on whether this could be a sign from God or if her husband might be speaking to her from beyond the grave or something like that. Ian gives a very muddled and not very comforting answer but seems pretty sure that something sketchy did in fact happen. Then, he sees a crack of lightning outside which illuminates the graveyard where he gets a glimpse of Gangie. 

He goes to check it out (and Gangie fully has an elderly goat he’s dug up slung over his shoulder) but “gravedigger” is his legit job so Ian decides to assume whatever’s going on is legit and not ask too many questions. He goes back to the widow (who, before she leaves, says that maybe sometimes people need to work on God’s behalf) while Gangie takes the body Loam Hall (a massive manor, built into a hill).

We cut to the next day and our next two characters! 

At 22B Hamsted Street in a pretty well appointed home are Ally and Grant’s characters. First up, we have Lars Vandenchomp (Huge ass Doberman/Battlemaster Fighter) who is so tough looking but also so Swedish sounding--it’s A Lot (so, incredibly on brand for Ally). Lars is security for Grant’s character Sylvester Cross (Fox/Inquisitive Rogue) who is a kinda (to use Grant’s word) “foppish” Sherlock Holmes type. He was hired by Squire William Thornwall Brockhollow to figure out what happened with Conor McCabbage (and clear him of negligence in running the mill) but he couldn’t find any evidence of any funny business, making this the only case he’s never cracked. He’s not as young or popular as he once was so this is, understandably, bumming him out. He’s even more bummed out when he realizes that William has invited him to his 60th birthday party that’s happening that night (as kind of a prop to show that he did his part in trying to solve the mystery) and Lars has already RSVP’d yes. He grudgingly agrees to go as it’s one of those asks that’s really more of a veiled demand but decides to pull the money he was paid from the bank first so he can return it and really stick it to the guy.

Finally, we cut to our last set of PCs who are on their way to Tufting Meadows via a very luxurious train. Inside are Sam and Rekha’s characters! Sam is Buckster $ Boyd (Peccary which is like a small boar/Mastermind Rouge) a Texan Oil Tycoon who acts exactly how you’d expect a Texan Oil Pig to act. Yes, you pronounce the dollar sign as “dollar sign” (even though as we find out later his middle name is Cassius so it’s like Cash which I think is super cool). With him is Rekha’s character, Daisy D'umpstaire (Raccoon/Assassin (???) Rogue another American (from South Carolina) though it seems she’s My Fair Lady’d herself into an upper class socialite (her last name was previously Dumpster). They’re traveling with their accountant, an Armadillo named Armond who seems kinda skittish and concerned about their travel expenses but Buck tells him that to make money you gotta spend money and they’re gonna make a *ton* of money on this trip. They’re also so so mean to him for absolutely no reason. 

When the train stops, they’re greeted by Templeton Padhop (a frog, natch) who is the chauffeur of Loan Hall, sent to fetch them. A wheel on his car is broken so he joins in on the Armond abuse immediately and has Armond roll into an Armadillo ball and replace it. Poor guy. When they show up they're greeted by a footman--a pug in a bowler hat named Milo Snout.

Meanwhile, Lars and Sly (Oh, Sly fox, I see what you did there Grant) are similarly greeted by another footman--a lizard named Basil Baskins. On a 23 perception check, Lars sees that Jeremy “Jez” Brockhollow is inside (the son of William who is a badger btw) and also clocks Gangie (who they know as a career criminal who disappeared like a year ago). Gangie doesn’t notice Lars though. 

Ian, who is also invited, shows up at about the same time as Sly but very quickly, the conversation is taken over by Lucretia “Lucy” Brockhollow, William’s older, eccentric sister who immediately gets into it with Lars about astrology and the occult (she thinks bad stuff is happening because of a curse let loose when Sly’s old rival--a rabbit named Fletcher Cottonbottom who is the son of his former employer--opened an Egyptian tomb). They’re thick as thieves right away because Ally is a nonsense magnet. And not like a regular magnet, one of those big electromagnets. 

Daisy and Buck spot William’s kids--the aforementioned Jez and his older sister Constance--along with their husbands Dr. Corbin Magpie (Constance’s and obv a magpie and a doctor) and Osmond Sheffield (Jez’s who is a Ram and a lawyer). Daisy is too stuck in her conversation with a truly unhinged squirrel (Lady Eugenia Bristlebrush who clearly does not know she’s in a murder mystery because she just keeps talking about how much she hates and wants to kill everyone) to hear what’s going on but she indicates the conversation to Buck who is able to eavesdrop and hear that they’re lamenting that Catherine--the widow--RSVP’d no which is gonna look really bad, like they didn’t invite her (bad PR). 

Buck, introducing himself as a business partner of William, eases into a conversation with the husbands which their respective spouses also join into and we learn that Buck's dad was British and a friend of Willian’s. Buck bonds with Jez (who is a bit of a dilettante) really quickly since Buck is ready to go drinks-wise immediately (and there’s a stellar pun about the “American [Drinking] Constitution''). Through the window, Buck notices Gangie outside getting his attention. 

At the same time, Ian is going from party guest to party guest, giving out the penances he forgot to earlier at church (as one does). We see him talking to the Lord and Lady Bramble (a cow and hedgehog, respectively) and while she wants to pray her way out of situations without doing any legwork, he wants to buy his way out and gives Ian 250 pounds. A frustrating but financially lucrative conversation.  

Buck goes outside to talk to Gangie who has a list of names of the bodies he’s been collecting. We’re not told what Buck is doing but it seems that this list is extremely valuable to him in some way. Gangie (who Buck keeps calling Gangly, to his annoyance) pays him handsomely (like, with a 50% tip) for the list (and Gangie gives him the real list, despite Brennan saying he didn’t have to). We also learn that Gangie has allegedly been getting the orders from someone in Loa Hall and they flow from William himself.

Matilda Molesly (a mole and the head maid) invites Gangie to come in from the rain--she’s the only person who’s been consistently nice to him and he agrees to come in for tea and scones. 

Everyone is ushered together by the butler (because of course there’s a butler--he’s quite literally a fancy rat named Thomas Gilfoyle) and William gives a speech where he wishes Conor well and kinda highlights that he did hire Sly to solve the case in a “Hey, I did my bit don’t blame me” kind of way. He also makes a 150k pound donation to the church (and Ian thought 250 was good) and tells his daughter not to read the praise he got for it from the cardinal when she mentions it (I wonder if that was choreographed). Sly interrupts the speech to “magnanimously” give his money back, to William’s annoyance. Buck notices that Lawrence Longfoot (a nouveau rich, rabbit photographer) takes a pic of the scene but with Sly in the foreground and William in the background. 

Then, a few things happen at once (in a very cinematic way):

As the camera flashes, Mrs. Molesly drops her tray, eyes hurt by the light. Lady Calliope Fawnbrooke (Deer, Matron of the Arts) helps her up.

In the moment of dark, after the flash goes away, the butler disappears. 

Buck thinks he sees a shape through the window, out in the rain. 

A cheer goes up for Sly for returning the money but all Sly can focus on is one figure he recognizes in the back of the room. Daisy, who is downing her drink and not cheering for him. He downs his as well, and looks at her until she breaks the stare and leaves the room. 

And this episode doesn’t end with a dead body like I thought, but with a flashback to a younger Sylvester, 12 years ago when he first met Daisy.

PC INTERPERSONAL DRAMA Y’ALL!!! Get HYPED! 

Case Notes

Here is a compilation of all the characters (PCs and NPCs introduced in this episode). 

Sly mentions that Ignatius Cottonbottom faked his own death as a part of some scheme which seems like a backstory point that might come back later--we now know that there exists a way to convincingly fake your own death in this world. 

Sly walks with a walking stick because of some “mysterious accident” but we’re jumping into a flashback next week so it looks like we might find out about it pretty soon. 

Sly also mentions he used to be the personal physician to the elder Cottonbottom so those are skills he has. I wonder if that’ll be useful to this healer-less party. I wonder if cleric was even an option in this world which seems to be low to no magic. It would explain by Ian is a bad and not a cleric. 

Lars has a military background which I wanted to mention in case it becomes relevant later. 

And Dr. Magpie grew up poor and still acts it a bit even though he married a very rich woman. Brennan uses the very good line, “He forces his body into the shape of an apology”

This might be a really deep cut reference but did anyone else here was the old Britcom “Keeping Up Appearances”? Cause I was getting serious Bouquet/Bucket energy from Daisy. 

This is an all College Humor season and it shows. The energy of 6 (7 if you count Brennan) top notch comedians sparking off of each other, trying to one up each other is off the charts. Some of the best bits this episode:

“When God closes every door but one, you go through the door that is open.” followed by “I’m an owl by the way.”

“Time is money, here’s both” from Buck re his inscribed gold pocket watch--everyone at the table loved that so much and they’re right. 

Armond going from being a third to a fourth wheel. 

And the names--I already shouted out a ton on the main recap but also a rat butler (like Rhett Butler) and naming the mouse Cat(therine). Can’t forget Gangie Green/gangrene from Katie. Also points to Ally for the data stealing Eel Musk which broke Brennan a little. 

I know we just went through this with Crown of Candy but what are these animals eating? Like, in Zootopia there were only mammals so we can assume the carnivores are eating like birds and fish but there are sentient birds here. I know this isn’t important. I’m not trying to do a CinemaSins gotcha. I just wonder, you know?

Y’all were waiting for all the lights to go out during that speech and then come back on and there’d be a body too, right?

If Brennan makes the bad guy a chicken or a duck or something so he can make a “fowl play” joke, he is cordially invited to catch these hands. 

I have been waiting for Raph and Katie to do D20 forever. Their specific brand of nonsense on Rank Room was always amazing. 

I love love love that Grant and Rekha are the PCs that have ~a past~ because they are so funny together. If you haven’t seen their episode of Game Changers, you absolutely must (it’s also a murder mystery actually!). 

#dimension 20 #dimension 20 spoilers #mice and murder #mice and murder spoilers #the case file #points and also glares to camwritery for pointing out that grant also went for the silver fox pun #i will be fighting both of you at my earliest convenience

[otg2012]

These Hearts Were Never Meant to Beat Alone  |  Day 3: Future fic

Stiles and Jackson go on their first date and this is how their dinner ends. 

The previous parts of this flashback are here:

So Damn Blue  |  Your Heart Will Never Be Broken by Me  | 

Sex, Truth and a Minimum of Bullshit   |  Confirmation Denied    

Notes: This is the end of my series "What If It's You?" in which Jackson is a spy and Stiles is a journalist.  

“About this thing that you do that cannot be mentioned… did you always know that you wanted to do it? I’ve always wondered if there’s some kind of call for that,” Stiles admits. “Or you just wake up one day and you say, risking my life for a living sounds good.”

“When you put it like that, what I do doesn't sound too different from a firefighter or a policeman, you know? Maybe you should ask your father, don’t you think?”

“Come on, you know what I mean,” Stiles insists. “And for my dad, of course, I know he couldn’t see himself doing anything else. That’s what he always wanted to do.” Stiles says, waving both arms. “Is that what happened to you?”

Jackson snorts, shaking his head. “No, I have two years of law school under my belt. I thought my future was being a lawyer. Somehow I convinced myself it was a way to make money and help people at the same time… and of course, my parents totally loved the idea. Not to mention that Kane, my best friend at the time, was also at college with me…”

“So what happened?”

Jackson snorts once more. “What happened is that I got terribly bored, I guess. My marks were decent but I wasn’t brilliant… and I was supposed to be brilliant,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “Hard as I tried, I couldn’t find the motivation to achieve what I was supposed to achieve. So, I lost interest and after my second year, I left and never came back.”

“Wow, that had to be hard,” Stiles offers obviously surprised.

“Yeah, it was,” Jackson nods, absolutely serious.

“And what did you do?” Stiles asks warily, biting his lip.

“Well, I was a mess. My parents didn’t get it, my best friend didn’t get it and even I didn’t totally get it. Because I knew I could actually finish it, and pass the bar and find a job… but also, in the back of my mind, I knew I couldn’t go on if I didn’t have a passion for it, you know… but for a while there I really thought I was stupid for not seeing it sooner… for wasting two fucking years of my life before I saw it. And I thought something was wrong with me… some people would call it a crisis, I suppose…” Jackson shrugs. “In the end, I left… stayed in France for a while… then I was backpacking through Europe… and decided to study economics and most probably start my own business in the future.”

“But that’s not what happened…” Stiles shakes his head.

“No... My boss… he changed all that. Somehow he trusted me, he recruited me and I realized this is what I was supposed to do.”

“You found your destiny,” Stiles declares. “Wow… that’s so cool.”

Jackson smiles. “I guess, it’s cool, yeah.”

“What about you? Is your call being a journalist?”

“I think so, yeah.” Stiles nods. “When I was a teenager, I thought I wanted to be a writer…”

“Really? Jackson raises his eyebrows.

“Yep. I have a lot of imagination in case you haven’t noticed—”

“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Jackson smirks.

“But writing is not a career… you have to be lucky to actually make money with it.”

“So, you just forgot about it?” Jackson furrows his brow.

“As employment? Yeah, I did… but I still, I write… just a hobby… plus, it’s not like I have a lot of free time… and anyway, I love my job… I don’t write fiction but I write about things that matter—our reality— and that’s important… Hopefully, I make a difference showing what’s going on out there and you know, every day is different and I never get bored. I guess not many people get to say that… although of course, you’re not one of those.”

Jackson gets that and he believes him, but something tells that probably those are all things that help him cope with the fact that he’s not doing what would have been his first choice.

“I mean,” Stiles continues, “unless, you got so used to traveling and kicking strangers who follow you…” Stiles gestures with his hand. “In that case, maybe you should have become a lawyer after all.”

“God, no,” Jackson smiles, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t change what I do for anything. And you know, if I hadn’t kicked you, we wouldn’t be here right now…”

“That’s most probably true,” Stiles smirks.

“It is,” Jackson bites his lip. “And believe me, I’ve told you stuff that…” Jackson snorts, smiling, “few people know about me.”

And that is honesty right there. It’s true he’s not been on a date in a long time but still, now that he thinks about it, he can’t remember a date where he talked as much about himself as he has tonight. Obviously, there’s something about this guy that makes it easy to talk and just be himself in a way that doesn’t really come natural to him. Thank god Lydia won’t find out what they talked about because if she did, she would be teasing him about it endlessly.

“Well, I hope that means that you wanna see me again… even if I’m only really good at English and I’ve asked more questions that you probably wanted in your lifetime.”

Jackson drinks some more wine and licks his lips. “Yeah, but I’ll just text you next time. I hope it’s not too disappointing.”

Stiles smiles. “I admit it. I could get used to your fingers sliding inside my pocket, but I think I can deal with it. And you know, since it’s been established that your so called-plan for Christmas Day absolutely sucks, I think you should come over to my place and have lunch with my father and me. I’ll be cooking, not him, so it’s safe to say that you won’t die of starvation.”

“Wait—Your father and you?” Jackson raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, he’s coming to visit for a few days. But don’t worry, if it bothers you that he knows that we are… you know…” Stiles waves his arms.

“Dating?” Jackson tries hard not to smirk. Stiles can be really ridiculous.

“Yeah. If that bothers you, you can come as a friend. I’m not trying to con you into anything… it’s just Christmas lunch… between friends. Well, family and friends… two friends.” Stiles closes his eyes for a moment, waving his arms. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t think that me meeting your father is the best idea you’ve ever had… especially after just one date.”

“On the contrary, everybody likes my father. There’s even the risk that you could like him more than me…” Stiles smiles. “And hell, I just don’t want you to be alone. Besides, I’m sure anything is better than whatever you are going to eat at home after working out like a maniac.”

Jackson rolls his eyes dramatically but finally nods. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go… but don’t do that. Don’t lie to him. As I said before, what’s the point of lying?” It feels stupid to do that. If the father is half as smart as Stiles is, he will see the way his son looks at Jackson and will know the truth anyway.

“Okay. I won’t.” Stiles shakes his head.

“So, are you gonna order any dessert or what? They are pretty good at this place.”

“Are you kidding? I never say no to dessert… especially cake… chocolate cake or apple cake… any cake, really...”

The way Stiles’ face illuminates at the idea of cake is too cute… maybe even beautiful. Jackson can’t help but grin. Somehow Stiles’ eagerness is contagious and he wants some cake too… and the thing is he never has cake. Too many calories.

“Cake, it is,” Jackson says nonchalantly, looking around to find a waiter.

#stacksonweek2020 #stackson #stacksonweek #stiles x jackson #what if it's you?

[virgil-at-hot-topic]

Royce: Now when you choose a law career The moment you embark There is that joke you're bound to hear "A lawyer is a shark" Ignore that, it's simplistic and it's dumb Only some of you will turn out sharks, just some The rest... are chum Our topic is blood in the water Kids, it's time you faced Law school is a waste Oh yes, unless you acquire a taste for blood in the water Dark and red and raw You're nothing until the thrill of the kill becomes your only law Mr Encantado, hypothetical question Would you be willing to defend the following banker accused of fraud? A kind old Grandma took her savings and she sent it Off to your client, all she saved since she was born Well, he promised to invest it, but he spent it On prostitutes and heroin and porn Edward: No, I would not want to take that case                 Royce: Wrong! This one is a win unless you're lazy Grandma's broke, she'll have some hack from legal aid Put her on the stand and call her old and crazy Your guy goes free and he can get you high and laid Look for the blood in the water Read your Thomas Hobbes Only spineless snobs Will quarrel with the morally dubious jobs Yes, blood in the water Your scruples are a flaw Ms Duke, hypothetical question Would you be the right lawyer for the following client? Say they offer you a bundle for defending A famous hitman for the Mafia elite Seems he missed his chosen prey Killed a nun and drove away Running over three cute puppies in the street Ruby: What, you think I wouldn't defend him just because he's a typical man?                 Royce: Oh, you lesbians think you're so tough Ruby: (Stammers incoherently) Royce: Oh dear, I fear my comment has offended Hard to argue, though, when you're too mad to speak Your employment will be very quickly ended When they see how your emotions make you weak So what's my point? I run a billion dollar law firm And I hire four new interns every year From this class I will select Four young sharks whom I respect And those four will have a guaranteed career Do you follow me? So I wanna see, what? Ensemble: Blood in the water Royce: Exactly Let the games begin Four of you will win But just those four with a dorsal fin Yes, blood in the water So bite and scratch and claw                 Yes, Ms, uh? De: Prince, Delia Prince! Royce: Someone's had their morning coffee. Would you summarise the case of State of Indiana v Hearn from your reading, please? De:  Oh... I wanted to answer the puppy question? Royce: But I'm asking you about the assigned reading De: Okay, who assigns reading for the first day of class? Royce:You have guts, Ms Prince... Ms Rose? Let us say you teach a class at Harvard Law School A position that you're justly proud about But a girl on whom you call hasn't read the case at all Should you let it go or- Delilah: No, I'd throw her out Royce: Alright then You heard your classmate You have just been killed She cut your throat so grab your coat Yes, you've got guts Royce and ensemble: But now they're spilled Your blood's in the water Royce: So would you please withdraw And if you return be ready to learn Or is that unfair? Oh, wait I don't care! That's just how I rule In life and in school With fear and shock and awe The thrill of the kill Becomes your only law Your only law Your only law Ensemble: Blood in the water Blood in the water

[dagneyrobertson]

It is hard right now. I am the Mistress of Understatement. It is super sucky, extra specially soggy a$$, hard right now. Are you with me?

I know, live in the moment.

Which moment, this one right here where I am nagging, whinging, begging, scolding and bribing my teen to finish her e-learning? Yeah, no thanks. I would much rather live in a different, had trimmed, bespoke, BOGO moment. So there.

I am desperately seeking a new drug, any drug, to anesthetize the anxious, impatient gorilla standing on my chest. #blowdartbon-bon?

I had a cold two weeks ago. I know, I'm so fortunate it wasn't COVID. Although, if it had been COVID I would be out from under that threat. Right? At any rate, it started with a sore throat. I KNOW, it might have been COVID. Then I had some fatigue. YES, fatigue. So, being considerate and responsible I stayed home from work. After two days, I felt better. Six months ago, I would have returned to work, without a backward glance. But day 3 was a Friday, and I decided to selflessly think of my coworkers and stay home one extra day. I mean., at the very least it would save others from that I have a sore throat, surely death is imminent panic.

My employer has a policy. This policy is to encourage truthiness from employees. It reads: If an employee is sick for more than 2 days, they need a doctor's note to return to work. Between you and I, I thought pretty hard about spending an extra personal day trapped at home with an e-learner. Add in the $50 copay for the Facetime doctor appointment? I am practically Bodihisatvah level.

It gets more interesting, just bear with me. My doctor, a replacement doctor for the MD I saw for 30 years who went concierge on me (bastard), wasn't concerned enough about my virus to have me test. She did, however, refuse to let me return to work. The recommendation is 10 days from onset with no further symptoms. This doctor is all about regulations. My HR Generalist was perplexed. I had no proof of COVID, but I could not return to work. The doctor composed a letter excusing me from work through the next week. She offered to complete paperwork for the two days of Short-term Disability for which I would qualify. She is incredibly earnest, if plodding.

So, I got another week off work. A full week to cajole, coddle, threaten, and entice my student. Seven long days to stew in my proverbial juices.

I was bored. I ate, read, played a mindless game on my phone, played some mindful games on my phone. I had an entire week to do nothing but whatever I chose (that did not involve being around possible COVID carriers.) I could only stand two days of that nonsense.

I downloaded a dating app. It had been almost two months since my previous beau and I split. He did not see his affections growing. I do not enjoy standing still, and I detest backwards. We broke up just as things were closing down. (For which I am grateful. No need to try to split my attention between work, my daughter and a temporarily unemployed salesman. I also don't do needy. Wait for it....)

I connected, or so I thought, with a man on the app. He was funny, successful, liked the fact that I am Lutheran (sorry to shock you) way too much. He is a lawyer, involved in local politics. (I am, too. But on the opposing team.😬) We agreed to disagree. The fact that he is rethinking his political loyalties due to the current shit show stood him well in my esteem. I think the ability to change one's position is incredibly attractive. If you think of how many people rabidly defend the viewpoint they have held since preadolescence, it's a sort of Darwininan victory, imo. He courted me hard for four days, messaging into the midnight hour. He just lost his father. I understand the loss of a parent too well. I understood he was numbing his grief. He did not. I agreed to meet for a socially distanced date. I brought the beverages, we sat on his patio and talked. We had addressed my plus worthy size prior to meeting. He likes a large lady. So that would not be the issue. He was tired from a busy couple days driving downstate to pick up his college daughter's possessions and staying with his mom. After a couple beers he warmed up. We shared our musical tastes. It was going well. I thought it was going well. We talked for four hours. Then we elbow bumped good night.

The next day, I noticed he was online on the app. I know, what business was it of mine? Why was I checking? I am only human. I felt needy. Not just needy, clingy, cringe-worthy. I started swiping, out of some bizarre jealousy over a man I have met once and never even kissed.

Some random dude, kinda cute in a ginger teddy bear way, messaged me his number. His approach was novel enough to get me to call. We talked and laughed. He lives too far away, but, for some reason I shared details of my date the night before. I have regrets. I have now convinced myself that Ginger Bear was a PI and that I somehow, by oversharing, recused myself from my lawyer friend's A-list. I think, in a desperate moment of wanting connection in the middle of this incredible muddle fuck of a sequester that I hurt a kind soul who may have been my friend.

I went back to work, yesterday. No word from Elbow Bump Esq.. I messaged a quick, " How are you doing?" and heard, " Ok. How about you?" back. That was his final response.

Tuesday. No communication. I know his daughter is back in town. I know his is spending time with his recently widowed mother. But I am taking this as a rejection. I have learned to accept rejection as a redirect.

Crashing back to reality. No substance buffer to be found. I am still managing an incredibly delinquent e-learner. I almost broke into tiny pieces, yesterday. I mean shattered into itsy-bitsy shards. I am both an ugly and angry crier. I get a migraine whenever I cry. This is why I rarely do so. My eyelids puff up like Rocky Balboa.

Oh, I logged out if the app. Too much pressure. It's like being at a Brazilian steakhouse and forgetting to flip your chip for ladies on those sites. The meat just keeps coming whether you like it, or not.

Back to reality.

Be strong, be safe, be well friends,

Dagney

#dagneyrobertson #mymidlifecrisis # COVID19 #authenticity #loveinthetimeofcovid

[queerofcups]

By the amount of fic I read and how bad my memory is I'm still not surprised that I remember exactly what happens in your fic a superstar, a year on and I'm still so intrigued as to what would've happened next it was so good and such an interesting take on kid fic ugh your mind blows me away with your creativity and conception of plot

oh wow, a superstar! barring something truly unexpected that’s gonna be a forever WIP, so here anon, is what happens next along with a shit ton of backstory

Backstory / Outline

Dan’s been an au pair since he was 20. He’s only had a few families (because he’s so good and they love him) who all swear by him. Families who can afford nannies are, by nature of the job, usually wealthy. Families that can afford an au pair, particularly one of his rate and reputation, are usually quite wealthy. He hasn’t broken into the big Old Money leagues quite yet, but he finds the nouveau riche to be a little more flexible as far as Dan’s style and general deportment. 

Of course, working primarily with new money means he’s often working with celebrities. They’re British, so the celebrity culture isn’t nearly as rabid as it is in America. 

But he does have a respectable stack of clippings from gossip mags that have identified him as someone’s mysterious new lover or piece on the side. 

He doesn’t blink at Bryony’s assignment of one last job: Phil Lester. 

Lester’s been making a comeback in the last couple of years, rebuilding his cultural cache after a few years outside of the spotlight. Bryony swears it's a short job, nothing like the last years-long job he just wrapped up. 

Dan’s loathe to admit it, but part of the reason he’s hesitant to take on another job, other than wanting a career change, is that leaving families wears on him. 

He’s not that breed of caretaker who can separate himself from his families. Some of these kids he’s watched grow from little lumps of cute into real humans with opinions and preferences and it can be hard to let go. 

Which is why, when he meets Sophia, he knows he’s screwed because she’s a firecracker of a kid and he falls a little in love with her as soon as they meet. 

Note: Sophie’s real first name is Manon

Dan’s bi and ends up helping Phil work through some of his own stuff about being pretty much gay, but having been in love with Margaux

He’s got depression and a touch of anxiety and explains those to Sophia at some point. 

He knows he’s in when he realizes he’s been looking up tutorials for styling curly hair online. 

Phil

Former youtuber that won a contest to be on a couple episodes of some failing TV show & became a dark horse who ends up getting picked up for a few other shows and eventually (shortly) makes the jump to film. 

The industry falls all over themselves to talk about how -nice- he is, how -polite-

It's untreated anxiety that leaves him bordering on panic attacks at every red carpet debut but he never says that. 

It gets worse after he’s caught coming out of a gay bar, mouth still attached to some boy

It's not exactly homophobia that drives him out. People are kind and don’t say anything to his face. 

But suddenly they want to know things. 

How long has he known?

What's his type?

They want him to be a role model and he just wants to live

It's an easy decision. It's so easy to walk away he almost feels guilty. He loves acting, so much it surprised him when he first started, but he knows he can’t stop doing it. 

So he stops taking roles. He doesn’t sign any new contracts. He nods and smiles when people tell him he’s making a mistake and he pickets his last checks. 

He doesn't go far,  just moves to a smaller apartment in London, in a less ritzy area and waitings until people stop trying to follow him home. 

It's not a meltdown, no matter what The Sun (?) says. The fame just starts to feel like a cold hand around his throat and he gets out before it starts to squeeze. 

There are people who understand and they’re proud of him. That feels awkward too, but nothing like the gaze of the public. 

He can eventually go back to school, for video editing, and he has a few things with guys that are short term. 

Which is fine. He’s young enough that he’s allowed to be restless and a little freewheeling. 

Margaux is...was...is a shock to his system. 

She’s a second generation French-American who moved to London so she can be boring in peace. 

(She’s French & Creole specifically. Sophia’s legal name is Manon Sophia Ange Siméon Lester. Obviously she only goes by Sophia Lester for the most part. Her maternal relatives aren’t pleased with that)

Margaux’s family was small when they met and only got smaller over the years they knew each other until it feels like it's just them and Sophia. 

The thing is, Phil never called himself gay. The press did. 

But he would now. Because he knows that there won’t be other women after Margaux. He knows it's unhealthy, but it's better than deciding there will never be anyone else at all. 

They were friends. They’d never called themselves anything more than that--not before Sophia and not after. 

Sophia is nearly seven with Margaux goes on the trip. They’d lived together on and off, so it's nothing strange for her to be with Phil rather than one of her two remaining maternal grandmothers. 

Phil is Sophia’s father, legally, biologically, all the way. But he sometimes feels like the most out of place person in her life. He doesn't know how to express to Sophia how much he loved Margaux while still being a mostly-gay man. 

Phil’s weirdness about bisexuality (his own and the very idea) is a sticking point between him and Dan

Sophia knows and doesn’t particularly get why the delineation matters. All she knows is her Dad sometimes acts unsure of his own Dadness. 

Margaux dies because of a head injury. She’d gone on an extended vacation with friends and gone bike riding without a helmet and fell. The friends took her to a clinic and she’d gotten a bandage for the scrapes to her forehead, a scolding and a clean bill of health. She’d skyped with them that night and made jokes about ruining her moneymaker. In the morning, she was gone. 

People in Phil’s life, his relatives and former friends, characterize Margaux as a funny little deviation that would have just faded into a fun story if not for Sophia. Phil doesn’t argue, because he doesn’t want to upset things)

Dan realizing that Phil loved her is a moment of breaking through Phil’s shiny veneer of untouchable politeness)

When Phil decided to start acting again, he’s not expecting things to progress as quickly as they do. He knows that people were impressed with him when he was younger. He’s shocked to hear words like “critically acclaimed” get thrown around. He was just a kid escaping into the lives of people who had bigger problems than him. 

But he reaches out, because he misses it and he’s tired of being a not-widower, hanting everywhere he goes, and the roles come. 

And the gaze comes with them. There are small things. A c-plot role, a secondary character. A lead role from a smaller studio. And then a big break comes across his desk. It's a middling role, but everyone that gets top billing comes with an Academy Award attached. And there are explosions in the script. The kind that mean a summer blockbuster. He takes it, and suddenly, he’s on the edges of spotlight again. 

Phil knows what he looks like. Internet star turned film star who goes gay, disappears for a few years, then returns, unpartnered with a brown, French speaking, half-American (half black America) pre-teen in tow. He looks like a ton of clicks, maybe a record number of copies sold.

Soph is 11. 

He takes the role and calls Bryony directly, because there’s no way he can do this alone. 

Part One: Meeting

Dan’s finishing up his first month back home after leaving a family. He’s got scripts on his desk--good, meaty roles that have him thinking he might not take another family on, yet. 

Bryony calls, which is interesting. She’s the head of the agency & they’re friendly but not on phone call terms. 

She offers him the job. He initially refuses. She admits it's a personal favor kind of job, and temporary and she wants her best on it. 

Dan agrees to a chemistry meeting. 

They meet up, Sophia charms dan and he still says no. 

She comes with a short term nanny because her dad’s running late. 

Phil shows up & Dan’s jaw clenches because PHil’s the kind of rung-jumping acting success story that Dan’ resents. 

So he’s sarcastic and a little cross because he hates that and the choir boy facade Phil puts on

Maybe he makes a euthanasia joke? Or something about an uncaring universe that goes over Sophia’s head. 

Except Phil laughs and doesn't glanced nervously at Sophia the way parents do sometimes when dan gets a little dark. 

Phil finally sends Sophia off to buy a cupcake so he can be alone and upfront with Dan. 

He explains that it won’t be a long term job, just the 9 months he needs to be in America to shoot and then Dan is free. 

“This is just the first time we’ve done this,” Phil says, watching Sophia through the window. “And I want to give Soph the best. She deserves the best. Better than that.”

And Dan’s a goner. He’s still a businessman, so he asks for time to consider and sends his terms of employment to the agency’s lawyer. But he knows he’s going to do it. He makes a mental note to look up a list of tutors if they don’t already have one hired. 

Part 2: Getting to Know Each Other

Dan makes the assumption that Sophia is adopted & Phil awkwardly corrects him--this is the beginning of their conflict over the word bisexual. 

Phil’s never had an au pair, so he’s uncomfortable with how *there* Dan suddenly is. He doesn’t move into their London flat because there’s not room for him but they start preparing for the move & he’s got experience in ordering houses for that, more than Phil does. 

They don’t have any other staff. Sophia will get a tutor in America, but she’s finishing her year in school & Phil lives well within his means, small flat, they cook for themselves and the cleaning lady visits once a week. Dan’s the only one there all the time & despite all his years of experience, he feels invasive. But he also gets to see how close Phil and Sophia are, including watching them do “homework” together, Sophia doing equations & Phil running lines. 

They go to America. Phil’s one movie has turned into parts in three movies. In one he’s playing a semi-serious playboy villain who was once the husband of the (superhero) lead. In another, he’s a professor/mentor in a teen dramedy. In the last one, the blockbuster/oscar bait, he’s playing a man whose life is ruined by the rise of the regime the main cast is fighting. Dan thinks the last one is the only one that sounds interesting. But he’s impressed with Phil’s handling of learning all the scripts. They’re surprisingly disparate characters. The playboy is, at his core, a sleaze that covers himself in a fine patina of British politeness. The professor is clearly meant to be someone whose awkwardness translates into the kind of cool kids would find appealing & Phil manages to strike the balance gamely. And the last one is...it's Oscar bait and even though Phil’s part isn’t big enough to get him supporting actor billing Dan can see him prepare to give a career-changing, maybe even life changing performance. 

The first two he practices in front of them. Dan gets sick of the lines, finds himself muttering them along with Phil as he makes Sophie’s snacks. 

The other one, only Dan sees. 

He doesn’t at first. For a while Phil locks himself away in his room and Dan can only hear the muffled yelling of a one sided argument. 

But one night he’s sitting, looking out over the city, thinking about going to bed when Phil comes out and asks him, sheepishly, if he’ll listen and tell Phil if he sounds wooden. 

Dan agrees and they sit at the kitchen table. Phil takes a long, steady breath and suddenly there are tears. He holds his head just slightly higher, proudly, and there’s suddenly a stoney archness Dan’s never seen on him before. 

“And so that’s it,” Phil says, his voice cold, closed off and defeated. “Eleven years and you hand me over to your precious leader.”“Josiah,” Dan says, looking at the script. “You have to understand. I had no choice--”“Coward,” Phil says. It's a simple word but still feels like it pierces Dan’s core.“My darling,” Dan says. “Please.”Phil stands. Dan watches him. “Remember that.” He stalks around the table, his eyes still shining with tears. “When I am on my knees, begging for life, when they’ve made you my executioner.”He steps closer, standing a hair too close to Dan, and says, anguished, “Remember that I was once your darling. Your beloved. Your love.”Dan is rapt, waiting for the next line, but Phil clears his throat and takes a step back. “And then they kiss and Josiah leaves,” Phil says, suddenly back in his own body and self. “What d’you think?”“Wow,” Dan says, hoping his face isn’t betraying his surprise that Phil can actually, really act. “Um. It’s good. Your movements could be a little smoother. They were together, right? So Josiah should be used to getting in--what’s her name?”“His,” Phil says, settling back into his kitchen chair. “Theodore. Theo.”“Woah,” Dan says before he thinks better of it. “You’re playing gay?”Phil quirks an eyebrow, “It's not really...playing?”Dan waves a hand, “Obviously. But that’s a big choice, role-wise. You aren’t afraid they’ll just see you as the gay one?”Phil stares at him, brows furrowed until Dan mouths, “What?”“You do know...about me, right? How my career got started? And why I stopped? I’m already the gay one.”“But you have a choice. I’m not saying you should change your mind. The film industries closet shit is bullshit. But you have a choice.”“Dan. I know. And the choice is what I get to be private about.  An actor--a celebrity who isn’t trying to walk back their youthful indiscretion is way more interesting than a mostly gay man with a kid and a dead...Margaux.”Dan feels...so many things. “You can’t hide Sophie. She’s your kid.”“I’m not hiding her,” Phil says, and Dan knows immediately that this isn’t the first time Phil’s heard this exact argument. “I’m protecting her.”

Dan keeps agreeing to run lines with Phil. He never asks for the script, so he learns Josiah through Phil, the early scenes where he’s playful, teasingly sensual, his deteriorating life and mental state and the way he dies. 

They don't run those lines when Sophie is home. It's understandable. It's unsettling for Dan, an adult who understands the depths you can get to while acting, to watch Phil muss himself up and drop unceremoniously to his knees, hands clasped behind himself. It's a short scene & Dan knows the public will be outraged with the scene. But every time he reads his own lines, a choked, delicate line of “I have to.”Phil nails it with workman’s precision everytime, He looks slightly past Dan, huffs a soft broken laugh and says, so quiet and tender, so full of betrayal. “You’ll never forget this day, Theo.” Dan doesn’t know what happens in the rest of the movie, but he’d pay the price of admission to watch Phil say that sentence.He’s been convinced, won over, sold & transported.

The fic doesn't end after they hook up for the first time, follows them through figuring out that this can’t be a one time thing and they both want this to last. Phil encouraging Dan to take on acting and not just because they can’t be together publicly while Dan is Sophie’s au pair. 

Ending of the fic is Sophie and Dan hanging out at the Oscars (or BAFTAs?) waiting for Phil to come out of the bathroom. It's a few years later (enough years that Dan should probably be freaked out about how many of the actresses he and Soph agree are super hot) and Phil’s up for an Oscar for best supporting actor. 

*At some point they get drunk together (after some terrible award show?) and talk about their first and best times with men and Dan accidentally dirty talks to Phil because he’s drunk and reminiscing about some truly outstanding cock he’s had in his day.

#phanfic #phanfiction #Anonymous

[pixieungerstories]

Darkness - 9

Brie sat.  Darkness talked.  He explained how he could keep her warm and comfortable and fed.  She countered with her cottage was warm and comfortable and this house was too run down to actually cook in.  He said he could bring food in.  She snorted and asked how he was going to do that.

He didn’t have an answer for that one.  

He suggested that he had a huge bathtub, big enough to hold him.  Brie pointed out that her bathtub was big enough for her.  Or, he offered, his bed was soft.

She flat out laughed at that.  “How do you even fit in a bed?”

And that was his way in.  Darkness took her on a tour of the parts of the house that were in use.  The bathroom that was really a wet room nearly as big as her whole cottage.  His bedroom that certainly was.  She frowned at the bed.  

“Ok, you are massively tall, but even you aren’t THAT big.”

“It’s the horns,” he admitted feeling a little embarrassed.  “Any smaller and they don’t clear the head board.”

“How tall are you?  Exactly?”

Darkness shrugged, “Nine feet, approximately, plus a couple of feet of horns.”

Brie shook her head.  “How do you get sheets that big?”

“Each mattress gets a fitted bottom sheet and I have four queen sized duvet covers sewn together.”

“How do you wash them?”

Darkness shrugged.  “The food is delivered, the laundry is sent out and brought back.  Goblynn takes care of any purchases or repairs the house needs.”

Brie considered this, “Or groundskeepers.”

“Yes.”

“So why not a housekeeper?  And some maintenance staff?”

“I don’t like people in my space.”

“You say that, but you brought me here.  Twice, if you include that visit with Mr Lynn.”

“I have gotten used to you.”

“Maybe you could get used to the cleaners as well.”

Darkness just grunted. Then he thought of something. “If I let the cleaners in, would you agree to spend time with me in the orchard while they are here?”

Brie blinked, “The porn orchard?”

Darkness chuckled, “Is that what you are calling it?”

“Yes.  I have seen the statues, you know.”

“Indeed.  And what did you think?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were incredibly risqué when they were carved.”

“You didn’t actually answer the question.”

“What do you want me to say?  The artist clearly had talent, but I’m not overly impressed by the subject matter.”

“You would prefer angels, I suppose.”

“Angels are not inherently interesting.  I like statues that tell a story, but those stories are like something out of the mind of a boy that has watched a lot of porn but never actually interacted with a woman.”

That made Darkness laugh.  “Yes.  I believe that is an accurate assessment of the artist.”

Now Brie blinked, “It, uh… it wasn’t you, was it?”

Darkness smirked at her for a moment before answering.  Long enough to see her start to squirm.  “No,” he said at last.  “They were commissioned by the people who build the house.”

“What happened to them?”

And so, Brie spent the rest of the morning listening to stories about the people who had built the house.  They had lived with him for quite a number of years.  They were the ones who built his quarters.  And when they left he was left behind.  He told her cute stories about how the very prim victorian lady was a sleep walker and prone to forgetting her night dress.  About how the husband was a total lech who would fuck anyone and anything who was incautious enough to hold still.  About how angry that made the wife.  He pointed out that the artist who made the sculptures perfectly captured the desires of each of them.  The male statues featuring some of the husband’s wanton and taboo sexual acts and the female statue recognizing the wife’s desire to rip out her husband’s spleen.

“What about Prometheus?” Brie asked.

“Ah.  Well that was a reference to me.  Forbidden knowledge and what not.”  He waved a hand dismissively.

“Uh huh.  That is only the tip of the iceberg in terms of statues out there.”

Darkness smirked, “Would  you agree to spend time with me out there to discuss that further?”

Brie snorted and realized she had no idea how long she had been in the house.  She hadn’t been hungry until she thought about it, but now she was.  “I need to go.”

“Or, you could stay.” 

“No, it’s time for me to go back to the cottage.  How do I get out of here?”

“I don’t want you to leave.”  Brie’s head snapped up at that.  For Darkness, fear was almost as good as worship.  It was the same kind of reverential attention.  Still, he knew that if he kept her here when she wanted to leave that would be all he would get from her.  No more meals delivered to the house as offerings.  No more easy camaraderie with her unconscious self.  “It is still raining,” he tried.  When that didn’t make her relax, he snorted and picked her up again, easily cupping her ass with one big, warm hand.  “Stop squirming; I’m taking you home.”

----

It wasn’t real.  Of course it wasn’t real.  Even if it felt real, she had been dozing on her couch with the rain beating on her roof and here she was, snuggled in her blanket, on her couch, wrapped in her blanket with the rain falling hypnotically on her roof.  It was three o’clock in the afternoon and she didn’t really feel like making lunch.  Bread and jam and a mug of tea then.  

Her mom made a ritual out of tea, heating the pot, carefully measuring out the loose leaf Yorkshire Gold, adding the water right before it was boiling, milk first, then tea.  Never any sugar.  When she moved out, Brie had been given a two bone china teacups and saucers and a little brown betty pot.  When she had company, she still went through the ritual, (allowing people to add their own milk) but sometimes she just wanted a cup of tea.  Mug of water, microwave for 90 seconds, bounce the tea bag a couple of time and slosh in some milk.  Inez Moreno would be beside herself, if she ever found out.

Brie was stirring in the milk by swirling the tea bag when she realized there were dirty footprints all over her floor.  She frowned, wondering who had been in her cottage when she realized the bottoms of her socks were filthy.

Her phone rang and she jumped, splashing hot tea over her hand before running back to the sink and pitching the whole thing and running cold water over her hand.  When she got to her phone, it was Mr Lynn.

“Are you alright, Ms Moreno?”

“What? Oh! Yeah, I just spilled some tea and scalded my hand.”

“Not too badly, I hope.”

“I’ll be fine.  What can I do for you, Mr Lynn?”

The lawyer sounded more upset than she had heard before when he said, “It seems we are getting some contractors in to look at bringing the house up to current building code.  Would you be able to let them in when they arrive?”

“Do I need to show them around too?”

“No.  Just unlock the door.  They will take it from there.  You will need to lock up when they leave.”

Brie considered this.  “Sure.  How do I get a key?”

“I’ll leave it under the mat. And Ms Moreno?  I know he won’t say this himself, but our employer was pleased you joined him for dinner last night.”

Brie froze, too stunned to reply.

“Ms Moreno?”

“Yes.  I’m surprised to hear that.  I didn’t think he enjoyed my company at all.”

Mr Lynn sighed.  “Ms Moreno, I have known Marbus Herne long enough that he is not just a client but also a friend and I can assure you that he has thoroughly enjoyed every interaction he has had with you.  Which is saying something.  He doesn’t usually meet with anyone twice.”

“Oh.” Brie considered this.  “I really don’t know what to say to that, Mr Lynn.”

“I don’t expect you to say anything, Ms Moreno. “

After the lawyer hung up, she had a shower and considered this.  She had a dream about visiting the monster in the house and woke up with dirty socks and Mr Lynn arranged to correct her complaints about the state of the place.  That was one hell of a coincidence. 

This whole story will be eventually available for free on Tumblr (if it lets me), but if you can’t wait, the finished version is available here

#demon #monster boyfriend #monster #terato #exophilia

[lady-thor-foster]

Dating Pietro Maximoff would include....

Anonymous asked: Could you do a “dating Pietro would include…” thing please? Thank you! I love your writing!

Pairing: Pietro x Reader Word count: 2.4k+ Warning: Fluff, Smut

A/N: To the anon that requested this: I made it as gender inclusive as I could! This was so much fun to write! Thank you for requesting it! I hope you all liked this! It kind of got out of hand and I’m not sorry at all. (At this point you should all know I will never understand the concept of writing short/quick fics. Just expect everything to be more than a thousand words. I’ve accepted it.)  

Surprise Kisses

Pietro is always ‘NYOOOMMM’. Even when he’s ‘standing still’ he’s going miles and miles a minute so sometimes you have to grab his face between your hands and plant one on him to remind him to stop, slow down, breathe and ground himself.

You are his anchor. You keep him tethered and grounded and he loves you all the more for it. 

Alternatively when he is zipping all over the place he likes to surprise you by stopping suddenly and absolutely taking your breath away with the most toe curling kiss.

Then he zips away again like the little shit he is leaving you completely flustered and needed several minutes to regain your composure.

It’s the highlight of your day honestly.

Being a blanket hog·         

A by-product of his insane speed is heat.

(Yes Piet, you’re hot, no that’s not what I meant you absolute dork.)

No matter how many times you tuck him in or attempt to cover him in blankets, they will always end up on the floor without fail. 

Bonus: He sleeps in nothing more than his underwear which leads to convenient sexy times.

Even he doesn’t run hot enough to keep all the chill away during the winter so the two of you have had some entertaining as hell blanket fights because you’ve adapted to stealing all of the covers. You always win because he can never say no to you.     

Of course that doesn’t mean he isn’t above using his adorable pout on you after you win and giving in to let him snuggle with you under the blankets.         

(That was your goal all along so who’s the real loser here.) 

Grocery Shopping...

Before you started dating, you knew Piet needed to eat all the time to keep his energy up.

What you didn’t know was HOW FREAKIN EXPENSIVE IT WAS TO FEED THAT SPEEDY BASTARD.

“Jesus Piet do you even know how much money I’ve spent on you this week ALONE”

“Do not worry, darling,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food, “I’ll take care of it.”

A couple of days later there’s a thick envelope in your mailbox with “Stark” in bold letters across it.

After the initial shock wears off, you see “From the Desk of Anthony Stark”. Talk about having heart palpitations.

When you open it there’s a letter from Mr. Stark apologizing for any expenses Pietro may have cost you and an open invitation to visit the Tower or Compound anytime you wish.

It also advises you have a lawyer look over the contract he’s enclosed.

“Contract? Wha—?”

You flip the page to discover an employment contract that allows you to keep your current job as well as serving as an independent contractor for Stark Industries.

Attached to the last page of the contract are employee badges for both Stark Industries as well as the Compound, a T H I C K black AMEX card with instructions that it’s to be used for expenses that may crop up in relation to Pietro or the Avengers.

There’s a second card that’s already been set up for Direct Deposit for your salary as well as any bonuses you may receive.

There’s also a check reimbursing you for the money you spent in the last few weeks on feeding your speedy boyfriend. 

HOLY SHIT THAT’S TOO MANY ZEROES.

A few moments later, Piet ‘NYOOMS’ outta nowhere with a cheeky grin on his face.  

“Piet…what did you do???”

“I told you, [insert cute nickname here]. I’d take care of it.”

“You didn’t have to do that!”

“You do such a good job taking care of me that I wanted to return the favor.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re the best boyfriend ever?”

Many smooches are had this day.

Snacks

When your boyfriend can eat an entire grocery store, you learn to always keep snacks on hand.

Even when he’s not zipping around everywhere, he’s hungry. (in more ways than one *cough* *cough* but we’ll get to that later)

Protein bars, dried fruit and other high calorie/energy but healthy snacks have a permanent home in all of your bags/purses

 This also works out when you’re peckish

Thanks to your expense account at Stark Industries, you’re singlehandedly keeping your local Mom ‘n’ Pop grocery market in business.

Feeding this man is so damn expensive.

Meeting Wanda Maximoff

When Piet tells you he wants to introduce you to his sister, you’re terrified and simultaneously ecstatic.

SHE’S THE SCARLET WITCH. SHE’S AMAZING.

(somehow during the entire course of your 3 month relationship, you’ve kept how much you admire his legendary twin sister under wraps. That’s a feat in and of itself)

You try your hand at cooking a traditional Sokovia dinner to impress her but…aaahhh…that backfires spectacularly.

Wanda walks in to see you frantically trying to contain a small grease fire, cursing profusely.

She smiles to herself and jumps in to help. She adores you already.

You don’t even notice who’s helping you until you’re both covered in smoke and your dinner is charbroiled beyond recognition.

“OH NO,” you fret, “This isn’t how I wanted to impress you!”

Wanda is a little startled that you’d even consider impressing her. She’s just Piet’s sister. “Why would you want to impress me?”

“Are you kidding me!? You’re the Scarlet Witch! You’re the coolest Avenger ever! You’re the coolest hero ever!! You’re like…my idol.”

Wanda decides she’s keeping you after that.

It takes no time at all to become best friends.

There are many grumbles and complaints from Piet because ‘you’re hogging my partner. When do I get to spend time with them???’

Pietro meeting your family

He was the first you’d ever brought home to your family.

You were so nervous your family not liking him.

You were even more nervous that he wouldn’t like your family.

Especially if you’re Black, Asian, Native, Latinx or Hispanic

Your family was wildly protective of you.

Despite being Sokovian and Jewish, he still looked like a white boy and that could pose an issue for your traditional family.

Introducing him to your culture and having him not like it was also a fear.

Thankfully Piet’s charm went a long way to winning everyone over.He fit in perfectly.

Even your great aunt/uncle liked him and she/he was rude to everyone (without alcohol, but I digress).

Your little cousins/nieces/nephews absolutely ADORED ‘Uncle Piet’. 

He was amazing with children and that made your mother pull you aside and ask when you’d give her grandchildren

“Honestly Mom/Ma/Mum, it’s only been a few months!!”

“I’m not getting any younger; I want some grandkids from you, [insert nickname here].”

“Mom/Ma/Mum…! Stop!!” you laugh at her insistence.

Wanda is also a hit with your family. 

After finding out they’re orphans, your mother decides to adopt them because no one should grow up without a family. Wanda and Piet tear up and thank her profusely.

The rest of your family accepts them without question. 

Worrying about Piet on missions

When the two of you met after Ultron, he told you about his near death experience.

You were someone he could talk to without pressure and that made it very easy to fall for you.

Your new status as a Stark employee allowed you to wait in the Tower whenever he went away on long missions.

Sometimes Wanda stayed behind with you. The two people Piet adored most in the world.

He always came back to you.

He’d begun taking extra precautions after Ultron. That was one experience he never wished to repeat.

Sometimes you had to patch him up

There were lots of kisses to his booboos which were usually very minor.

He was occasionally a big baby about it if it meant more kisses from you

There was one mission though…

No one came back unscathed. Not even Cap or Bucky. 

Everyone looked like they’d walked through literal Hell. 

It was a sobering sight.

No one liked to talk about it.

Pietro came home and kissed you so hard you could feel the agony roll off of him in waves.

That was the time he finally told you that he loved you.  

Sex with Piet would include

Tender loving.

Pietro Maximoff might be a joking little shit but sex with you is the one thing he takes seriously.

He’s got such a thing for absolutely worshipping your body.

No matter where you are or how often you’ve had sex, he always looks at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen you. 

It’s the best thing honestly.

Hair pulling/playing with kink

You think he dyed his hair that obnoxious silver for it to go ignored? 

Hellllll naaaawwww. 

Ya boy outchea with the most sensitive fucking scalp ever.

The first time he ever went down on you, your hands ended up in his hair accidentally and he actually came in his pants. 

That was a great night of exploration for the both of you. 

Many orgasms were had.

Oral fixation

There’s no point in wearing underwear around Piet anymore because at any point, he’ll whisk you away just so you can ride his face. 

Did I mention ya boy got a kink for worshipping you?

You on Top

Alternatively, he loves it when you’re in charge

He loses it when you edge him for so long that when he actually cums he sees a universe of stars behind his eyes.

One of his favorite things ever is the look on your face when you ride him.  

Exhibition

PIETRO FUCKING MAXIMOFF IS THE RISKIEST MOTHER FUCKER EVER.

Restaurants, Elevators, Movie theaters, DINNER WITH THE AVENGERS, if he can sneak his between your legs, he fucking will.

This mans outchea with legendary finger game. 

And that’s without using his speed.

But when he does use his speed to vibrate his fingers…you’re a goner. 

Deceased. 

Out of this world. 

Transcended to the Astral Plane.

He also loves spanking your ass.

Actually, he loves your ass in general.

If you work out, he loves watching you do squats, yoga, lunges, anything that involves you in tight yoga pants.

This leads to alternative work outs.

Your stamina has actually improved since the two of you started having sex.

If you’re plus sized

He still worships you.

Your size isn’t a problem for him.

There’s more of you for him to love and that’s the real prize here.

Literally all of the above and all that follow apply because Pietro Maximoff is not a shallow motherfucker.

EXTRA COMFY SNUGGLES

He loves resting his head on your soft tum or lap when you cuddle because you play with his hair and it knocks him the fuck out.

Sometimes the hair playing leads to him yanking your pjs off and burying his face between your legs because goddamn that man loves making you cum.

Him adoring your confidence

You’re not one of those people who fakes being confident.  

If you are, that’s okay, you’ll get there don’t worry.

You worked so long and so goddamn hard to love yourself and you deserve to be confident and in love with yourself.

Anyone who calls you vain can get fucked because you did not endure years of abuse just to bristle at a jealous motherfucker.

Date Nights

Fancy Dates

He always falls out when you dress up. A L W A Y S.

Literally every single time you put on something fancy he goes N U T S

“I have the most gorgeous date to ever exist and everyone needs to know this”. 

SELFIES

Surprisingly (or not lmao) Pietro is the one demanding selfies with you because he wants the world to know he’s head over heels for you.

He also has a professional camera that he uses to sneak photos of you when he thinks you look the most beautiful.

He surprised you with a carefully constructed scrapbook of all of his favorite photos when you were having a particularly low confidence day. It was one of the best days of your life.

Anniversaries

Pietro is the boyfriend who celebrates ‘Month-a-versaries”

The first month you were together, he surprised you with flowers and a cake that said “Congrats on surviving me for a month”. 

It was adorable and hilarious

Every month was a new theme. You were never sure what he would come up with next. There was always a cake that said “Congrats on surviving me”.

Your favorite month was after he finally said “I love you” he decorated your apartment in sticky notes with all the reasons why he loved you and all of his favorite memories.

His favorite month was when you surprised him with a cake that said “Thank you for loving me” and a mixtape of all the songs that reminded you of him because as much as Pietro loves you, you love him just the same.

Marriage

You accidentally proposed to Piet out of the blue one night.

You’d been together for a couple of years at this point.

Even through all the ups and downs, your love for each other never wavered.

The two of you were relaxing in bed in his room in the tower (BECAUSE TONY HAS THE BEST TV DEFINITION AND HE SAID I COULD COME EVER ANYTIME I WANTED DON’T FIGHT ME ABOUT THIS PIET) watching some Disney Movie or other.

“Would you ever marry me, Piet?”

“Without hesitation.”

“Wait seriously?”

He pulls you in for one of his signature toe curling kisses and nods. “Without hesitation.”

Wanda bursts into your bedroom shrieking happily because she’s always wanted another sibling.

“Wait Wanda it was a hypothetical question! I wasn’t actually proposing!”

It’s too late to take it back now because whatever Wanda wants Wanda gets.

You were marrying an Avenger; there was no choice but having an ostentatious wedding.

Your ENTIRE FAMILY showed up.

Being married to Piet isn’t much different from dating him.

You bought a house instead of living your tiny apartment. Piet still had his room at the Tower for Avenger business.

Except for the first couple of months Pietro couldn’t stop calling you [Y/N] Maximoff.

It was adorable and would never get old.

Whenever someone called for Maximoff in the Tower the three of you would answer all at once.

“No not you the other one. No the other, other one!” “Yes that one.”

This lead to having specific (nick)names for all of you.

“Hey Speedy!”

Wanda quite liked her first name thank you very much.

Sam heard Piet call you ‘sugar’ ONCE, and suddenly you were the Tower “Sweetie”.

This lead to Piet having to come up with other nicknames for you.

Your favorite was ‘darling’.

FOREVER TAGS

@emilyevanston @bellamyblakesgun @morgandakotaq @avengersandlovers @happiness-is-sebstan @fangirlingisloud

#foster takes request #pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff #pietro x reader #anonymous request #Foster writes #my fics #my imagines #my one shots #my stuff #my post

[chrismdthings]

fly me to the moon

pairing: chris dixon x reader warning(s): you might die of cuteness note: requested by anon / i got a bit carried away / 3,172 words

“I feel so.. stupid.” Chris said, adjusting and re-adjusting his bowtie in the mirror of the foyer. He huffed and turned to you as you stood down the hallway from him, leaning against the wall to slide your heels on.

“Yes, you may feel stupid,” you trailed off, finishing sliding on your heels. Chris listened to the sound of your heels click against the hardwood floors as you approached him. “But you look incredibly handsome.” 

Tucking the clutch under your arm, you reached out and adjusted Chris’ bowtie so it was straight before smoothing out the shaw lapels of his tux. You admired him as he stood still in front of you; if there was one thing you wanted to see more of, it was definitely Chris in a tux. He was attractive to you even in his joggers or a sweaty kit, but the suit was a different story.

“And I’m uncomfortable.” He complained while adjusting the cuffs that grazed the inside of his wrists. 

“And you think the heels I just squeezed into, are?” You said, pulling back the slit of your emerald green ball gown to reveal your leg. 

Chris looked at the six-inch golden pumps you were sporting, and shook his head a second later. If you suffered in those pumps, he could suffer in his uncomfortable dress shoes and too-tight tux for a night.

Grabbing your clutch from under your arm, you reached up and placed your hands on Chris’ shoulders. One hand slowly cradled the back of his head as the short hairs tickled your palm. You knew if you touched any other part of his head, Chris would be back in the mirror trying to fix his hair for the hundredth time that night.

“I just want to thank you for coming with me tonight.” You said, looking into his eyes. Even though you hated the heels you were forced to wear that night, you were also thankful for them as they finally boosted you up to the same height as Chris for once. “I couldn’t stand these type of events when I was younger, but knowing that you are going to be there with me, makes it a little bit more bearable in mind.” 

Chris smiled at you, reaching up between your arms to touch your face. You felt his fingers trail across your face to cuff your cheeks, and he placed a gentle and subtle kiss on your lips, careful not to smudge the peach lipstick you perfected. 

You didn’t have plans to ruin your makeup before this event. You knew Chris would have the decency to wait until after you both left.

As he pulled back, you smiled up at him once again. “I love you.” Chris said, searching your eyes to receive the same love back.

“I love you too.” You whispered before tilting your head to the side, pressing a soft kiss on his palm. “Now come on, we don’t have long to get there before my mother is calling me and complaining about how I’m late for everything, and that I’ll be late for my own funeral.”

Chris chuckled and let you take his hand before leading the both of you towards the doors of the house, but Chris managed to get one last glimpse of his hair in the mirror before you both left. Walking into the warm summer night, Chris shut the door behind him and let you lead him to the awaiting car in the drive-way.

Chris cleared his throat before speaking up, “will they have food at the party?”

Chris swallowed hard as he looked up at the mansion in front of him once he opened your car door. It was everything that Chris expected, but it still intidimated him.

It was an old manor house built in 1910 but everything about it reeked elegance and wealth. There were running sundials and gardens, and a large foutain in the center of a roundabout driveway that Chris pulled in. The doors were wide open underneath a golden chandelier as waiters stood at the foyer with trays of champagne flutes, and what seemed like a dozen people were already packed in the front hallway. 

“Jesus Christ,” Chris whispered, shutting the door behind you as you stepped out of the car. He broke his eyes away from the house to the others arriving; there was a Rolls Royce Phantom that had pulled in to the drive the same time he did, and a man helped out a woman in a golden gown with white gloves and a large diamond necklace from the backseat. He usually felt good about driving an Audi, but now he was just self-conscious.

“Chris,” you gained his attention by snapping your fingers and he broke his gaze away from the car; “what?” He asked, clueless, and you pointed behind him where a man was standing in all black. It was a valet. 

Jesus Christ, what didn’t this party have?

“Oh, of course.” He said before handing the keys over to the man who nodded and smiled. Chris knew he didn’t ask for the name for later because he was the only damn person here driving an Audi as the others arrived in Rolls Royce Phantom’s and Aston Martin’s. 

As you took a step towards the house, walking across the smooth drive, you felt Chris place a hand on your lower back.

“I’m sorry, are we attending a Gatsby party tonight instead of your parents event?”

You snorted. “I wish this was a Gatsby party, love. I wouldn’t be wearing these uncomfortable heels and have you seen those flapper dresses? Cute.” You laughed. “ And sadly the host is not Leonardro DiCaprio, but instead my evil stepfather.”

“So instead it’s a Cinderella ball?” He whispered as you two neared the front doors and forced smiles on your lips as you both grabbed a welcoming drink from the waiters trays.

“Basically, and please,” you grabbed Chris’ elbow with your free hand before whispering; “kill me if I’m still here at midnight. If so, I’m starving, tired, and near dead anyways.” 

Chris chuckled quietly. “Will do.” 

You and Chris waltzed through the throngs of people around the open foyer and living room, sipping on champagne and trying to avoid most people until your prude family members spot you from across the room and try to spark up a conversation. 

At one point you and Chris escaped to the upstairs area where the pianist was playing, and talked to her for a while, just to avoid all of the awkward conversations with people you hadn’t seen, or cared to see, for years. The only people you two had an enjoyable conversation with was your two younger cousins who were more entertaining than anyone else in the room. 

It was almost two hours into the night before you saw your mother and stepfather. They had been mingling with your stepfather’s employers and fellow businessmen all night, and the last thing you wanted to do was walk up to a conversation about business talk or future rounds of golf.

“Why don’t you just look at my darling.” Your mum said holding her arms out, an adoring smile on her face as she took you into a hug. You smiled genuinely for the first time in the presene of someone except Chris that night and wrapped your arms around her, squeezing for a second before leaning back.

“It’s lovely to see you again, mum.” You said, placing a kiss on her cheek before turning to your stepfather and giving him a nod. “Stefan,” you said blandly and he greeted you by your own name as well before your mum spoke up again.

“You look so gorgeous tonight, darling.” She complimented you over the sound of Frank Sinatra’s Fly Me To the Moon being played from the piano upstairs. She turned to Chris and smiled. “And you too, son, you look so handsome.” Her eyes scanned your emerald gown to Chris’ matching bowtie that he was sporting.

Chris reached out and took your mother’s hand before kissing it gently. Your mum smiled and turned to you, winking before glancing back at Chris. “It’s nice to meet you once again.”

“And it’s so nice to have you here, Christopher. We love having you around.”

That was nice for Chris to hear, because in a room of successful doctors, lawyers, and CEO’s, he definitely stood out with a Youtube career. 

“It’s so lovely to be here.” Chris nodded before turning to your stepfather and shaking his hand- you watched as Chris placed his free hand on your stepfather’s elbow as they shook hands for a moment. You were actually impressed by how calm and cool Chris acted around him this time, especially since the first time they met, Chris was this close to vomitting from the nerves. “And it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wellington.” 

Your stepfather pressed a smile and you could see right through it, but kept your eyeroll to a minimum. Your stepfather had expressed his distaste for Chris in the past and his “Youtube career” compared to what you could have; “look at the options, darling, you can marry a doctor and have a beautiful family.” He would say, as if that mattered, or had any effect on you. Stefan was also very vocal to your mother as well about the boy, but your mum would shut him down every time, saying that you were happy, and that was all that mattered. So, instead of pushing it, Stefan was forced to settle. 

“Stefan, please,” he insisted and Chris nodded before their hands dropped. You watched Stefan then slide his arm around your mum. “Are you two having a good time tonight?”

You leaned into Chris when he took a step back and smiled, nodding. “A very good time, thank you. It was so nice to see everyone again.” You lied and Chris pinched at your side when he placed a hand on your back. As you started to speak again, another man approached your mum and stepfather. He was an older man with salt and pepper hair, a pressed tux, and a shiny Rolex on his wrist.

He immediately started chatting with them, as if you four weren’t in the middle of a conversation. You cleared your throat loudly, Chris once again pinching your side, but you didn’t stop that time. When the man turned to you, you shot him a large smile. “Excuse me, I was just in the middle of a conversation here, thank you.” You said, your mum flat-lining her lips to hold in a laugh as your stepfather was baffled by your forwardness. The man somberly nodded and you turned back to your mum. “Chris and I are going to find some food. I’m sure we will see you later.” You said.

Your mum nodded, smiling brightly at you. She was the person you got that smart-mouth from and she was proud. “Make sure to say bye to us before you leave. We both want to see you again before you leave.” You nodded before grabbing Chris’ hand off your hip and leading him back into the room and near the dining area.

Once out of ear-shot from your family, Chris let out a howl of a laugh. “Damn,” he shook his head, whistling at your hot-headed tendency. “Goody-two-shoes has a mouth on her.” 

You laughed, glancing over your shoulder at him as you pulled him through the room of people. “Out of everyone, I think you should know that.” You shot him a wink and he chuckled.

Pulling Chris into the dining room, you two were the only ones in there at that moment. Both of you had been starving since you arrived and were now ready to endulge in the finest foods that were served. You dropped Chris hand and walked over to the ebony dining table where racks of fine foods sat on only “the finest China, dear.” As your mother used to say when you were younger.

Horderves, caviar, bruschetta with tomatoes, several things of tapas, all of the imported wines, and the fanciest champagne flutes. All of the food stretched across the table were finger-foods for the most polished guests who didn’t want to drop any crumbs on their beloved lace dresses or trimmed beards. 

To you and Chris, it looked like nothing but a snack.

“Well, dammit.” You cursed under your breath as you overlooked the food. It wasn’t that the food wasn’t appetizing, it was the fact that you and Chris hadn’t ate all day and were starving. Those small servings would’t do anything- you were going to have to shove at least two trays of bruschetta down your throat to even feel the least bit hungry.

The door to the dining room swung open and several people rushed in, all coming to the table and grabbing their food. Chris grabbed your wrist and pulled you to the side and out of everyone’s way.

“How about this,” Chris leaned in to whisper. “Let’s sneak out and go get fast food or something.” 

“Chris? Really?” You asked in a hushed tone, pulling your wrist out of his grip. “You want to sneak out of my family’s party?”

Chris raised a brow. “Are you really about to pass up the opportunity?” He chuckled before you sighed and turned away, but Chris looped an arm around your waist and pulled you in close. “Do you really want to stay here with people you hate, in heels that are killing you, and eat finger foods or do you want to run out, sit down and kick your heels off, and eat an actual meal?”

“Chris-”

“Isn’t this something you dreamed of when you were a teenager? Being able to leave one of these things early?”

You sighed and looked down at your hands, twiddling with the silver promise ring on your finger. “Yeah, actually,” you laughed lightly. “I always pictured myself climbing out my window to meet my boyfried or some shit just to get out of here.” 

As someone walked by that side of the table, Chris was forced to press closer against you, nearly pushing you against the wall. He tilted his head to the side, kissing your cheek before whispering in your ear, “okay, I have a plan.” 

For some reason you expected Chris’ plan to be the elaborate, full-on sneaking-out-plan of going through the bathroom window or from the balcony of your bedroom, the stuff that was only in movies. And apparently, it was only in movies as Chris’ plan was very simple.

You two got the only people in the house that you liked, your two younger cousins, to serve as a distraction for your mum and stepfather, whom remained in the foyer to greet guests. One cousin would take the key out to the valet to get Chris’ car pulled around, and the other would do the distracting.

The plan was great, in both yours and Chris’ eyes, and in your little cousins’ eyes too. And that was only because it got them five pounds each.

And, somehow, the plan worked without a flaw. You and Chris waited around the corner of the room as you watched one of your younger cousins give a key to the valet waiting at the door and came back when the valet ran to fetch the car. A few minutes later, when you and Chris were sure the car was awaiting outside, you both ushered the your other cousin out and she served the right of a distraction well, dragging both your mum and stepfather by the wrists’ in to the opposite room.

Out of ear-shot and view, Chris grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him. “Go! Go!” He whisper-shouted, and you two were a laughing mess as you ran out the door.

One hand held up your dress as Chris was still latched around the other. You silently thank the gods above for years of wearing heels, because those days were clearly practice for days like now as you and Chris were running across the drive and to the awaiting black Audi.

Everyone was staring at you two, but neither of you minded. You both were laughing messes as you jumped into the car and within a second, not bothering with seat belts at that moment, Chris pulled the car out of the drive and you two were scot-free.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, calming down from laughing and leaning your head against the head rest. “We’re such idiots, Chris.” 

He reached over and grabbed your hand, chuckling to himself. “Idiots that are free to eat all of the fast food they want to now.” He said before bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to it. “I love you.”

You laughed. “I love you too.” You said leaning over the center console and pressing a kiss against his cheek before settling back down in the seat.

Chris drove you two back from the outskirts and back into the city. It was too late for any restaurants to be open, and most fast-food chains, but there was always one place you two relied on for late night binges. McDonalds.

The workers who had the late shift knew yours and Chris’ names because you two were there more often than not. However, you two were usually there at midnight in your pajamas wanting an ice cream, not there at midnight in the fanciest clothes you two owned, wanting three burgers and two things of nuggets to go along with it along with a couple of drinks. Chris would have ordered two more Big Macs, but his dignity was already running low enough that night, so he decided against it. 

Needless to say, you and Chris got plenty of stares as you two sat in the McDonalds table that night. You were still in your gown and heels, but your hair was now hanging down your shoulders, and Chris peeled off his blazer before rolling up the sleeves of his white button-up. An hour earlier it looked as if you and Chris had stepped off a private jet in the Cannes, ready for the red carpet of a movie premiere, now it looked like you two had been thrown out of the same premiere and kicked to the curb. 

"I think this may have been the best idea you’ve ever had.” You said taking a sip of your drink, propping your feet up on Chris’ leg under the table to relax a bit more. “Even if it means mum kicking my ass for not saying goodbye.” He chuckled and reached down with his free hand, patting your leg before nodding.

“Anything for the nuggets.” He said before popping one into his mouth.

You laughed and leaned over the table, stealing one of his nuggets from the box, earning a frown from Chris, causing you to laugh even harder. “Anything for the nuggets.” You repeated. 

#goals #honestly #i want this #chrismd #chrismd10 #chris dixon #chrismd imagine #chrismd10 imagine #chris dixon imagine #chrismd drabble #chrismd10 drabble #chris dixon drabble #chrismd one shot #chrismd10 one shot #chris dixon one shot #one shot

[readingontheedge]

Title: Carbon Replacements

Author: Reily Garrett

Genre: Romantic Thriller

Publication Date: September 9th, 2018

Hosted by: Lady Amber’s PR 

Blurb: The killer held a knife to her throat—the ultimate decision locked within a dark and deviant gaze.

 Determined and dedicated, forensic pathologist Remie Tallin validates her talent by detailing a victim’s last moments of life. Returning to Portland signified her new beginning where a psychopathic stalker designates her a pawn in a seductive game of intrigue.

 The lines between predator and prey blur in hunting a medical genius bent on resetting the laws of nature. Evidence has never failed to point Remie in the right direction, yet conflicting discoveries mock the legal system and defy the scientific arena for clarification.

 Detective McAllister’s return from leave includes a new assignment along with a partner well versed in subtle sarcasm and innuendos. Discovering the new medical examiner unconscious at the scene of a grisly murder forces him to unite with his brothers against a world of chaos where reality shifts according to a psychopath’s desire.

 Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/40776871-carbon-replacements 

Author Bio:

Reily is a West Coast girl transplanted to the opposite shore. When she’s not working with her dogs, you can find her curled up with a book or writing her next story. Past employment as an ICU nurse, private investigator, and work in the military police has given her countless experiences in a host of different environments to add a real world feel to her fiction.

 Over time, and several careers, many incidents have flavored the plots of her stories. Man’s cruelty and ingenuity for torment and torture is boundless, not contained by an infinite imagination. Witnessing the after-effects of a teenager mugged at knifepoint for a pair of tennis shoes, or an elderly woman stabbed repeatedly with a screwdriver for no apparent reason, left an indelible impression that will forever haunt her subconscious. In counterpoint, she has observed a woman stop her vehicle in severe, snowy weather to offer her own winter coat to a stranger, a teenager wearing a threadbare hoodie. Life’s diversities are endless.

 Though her kids are her life, writing is Reily’s life after. The one enjoyed after the kids are in bed or after they’re in school and the house is quiet. This is the time she kicks back with laptop and lapdog to give her imagination free rein.

 In reading, take pleasure in a mental pause as you root for your favorite hero/heroine and bask in their accomplishments, then share your opinions of them over a coffee with your best friend (even if he’s four-legged). Life is short. Cherish your time.

 Author Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2GFyOAn

website: http://www.reilygarrett.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/reilygarrett/

Reily blog  http://bit.ly/22HIwrk

Twitter: https://twitter.com/reily_garrett

Newsletter: http://bit.ly/2oGbKeC

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/11126619.Reily_Garrett

BookBub: https://www.bookbub.com/authors/reily-garrett

 Buy Link:

Digital Velocity: https://amzn.to/2wwz8yO

Bound by Shadows: https://amzn.to/2C3PiEV

Inconclusive Evidence: https://amzn.to/2PSOHsA

Carbon Replacements: https://amzn.to/2NDUgJQ

Excerpt:

“Wendy, I’m t-tellin’ you, the man’s a serial killer. He has the body of a Greek God, but his mind is full of squirming maggots.” Gena stifled a sob with a shaking hand, her body wedging back against the driver’s door after twisting to face her roommate beside her. “He’s more depraved than any fucker we’ve ever crossed, and he’s going to find me.” Aftereffects of the adrenaline rush magnified tremors in her fingers and lips while increasingly shallow breaths expelled carbon dioxide faster than her body could produce it. No doubt, the by-products of dizziness, cramps, and weakness crept into her awareness. Fear-sweat on her forehead glistened from distant flashes of lightning.

“Hey, slow down. Take a deep breath. You’re new to this and easily spooked. Just because men are pigs doesn’t mean they’re murderers. Take the money he gave you and don’t see him again. Change your number. Lay low for a bit.” Wendy startled with the repetitive crash of thunder reverberating in the Honda’s dark and eerie confines. “Can I at least see what’s got your panties in a twist?” She reached for the black cloth covering her friend’s evidence only to be pushed away.

“Oh God, Wendy. I shouldn’t have dragged you and Remie out here tonight. The creep knows I’m a sophomore, but I didn’t tell him which college. I don’t want him to find either of you.”

“Shit, Gena. I may be a student, but I can take care of myself.” A note of uncertainty snaked through Wendy’s voice.

From the back seat, Remie contemplated the wind’s increasing fury, so like her own, sweeping, all encompassing, erratic. Parked along a deserted back road hours before dawn didn’t equate to a tranquil setting when listening to accusations of murder. I should’ve brought my dog. Buckeye would’ve waited in the SUV. She’d just moved back to Portland and lacked the normal discreet channels of investigation derived from time-developed working relationships. Not that I’ve figured out what the problem is yet.

Small raindrops pattering the passenger window progressed to a heavy deluge that silvered with the dashboard’s ambient light. It was a perfect night to snuggle under a blanket with a cup of cocoa and a scary book. Living the scenario brought the rancid taste of bile scalding Remie’s throat.

“Girls, you know I’m a doctor, not a cop, right? What happened to toning life down to live like normal human beings? No more adrenaline junkie. Gena, it’s not like you need the money for tuition. Jesus, if your parents knew what you were doing for thrills, it would kill them both.” Years of schooling in forensic pathology aged Remie decades in the eyes of college girls too naïve to avoid such foolish and dangerous behavior. More than ten years difference thrust her into the role of adopted mentor to the neighborhood wild child with crazy tattooed on her brain.

“Jesus. I’m so sorry, Remie. You spent a night in the hospital last week after wrecking your car. You don’t need this.” Unspoken recriminations gathered around Gena like a smoldering blanket, the flameless combustion withering her resolve.

“I’m fine. The few scrapes and bruises have already healed.”

“I figured a few tricks for kicks, no harm. It’s not like I don’t use condoms, and we’ve only done it a couple times.”

“The harm is that there are real nutjobs out there. Deranged people you do not want to meet. Trust me. I see the results of their work every day during necropsies. It’s what I do… remember?” Visions of Gena lying on a cold slab while an ME separated the upper part of her cranium to create a removable skullcap strengthened Remie’s determination to see the situation resolved.

“Roomie, what makes you think he was a killer? Did he threaten you? Did you see a gun?” Wendy laid a calming hand on her roommate’s arm. “Hell, everybody has guns these days. I’ve got a .357 stashed in my bedside table. Let some psycho come to my dorm looking for easy targets—he’ll get a hollow-point surprise.”

Gena, the cute little kid from the farm next door with wide hazel eyes and curly brown hair had grown up with a nose for trouble, yet usually lacked affiliation with high drama. With the start of the spring semester, the risky escapades should’ve ceased.

“While he was in the can, I picked the lock on his briefcase, thinking he was some kind of lawyer or something.” If not for the frightened gaze bouncing between the proof clenched in her fingers and the nebulous woods on either side of the lonely road, Gena could’ve been any college student recounting a dicey hazing ritual. The tone and pitch of her voice increased when she unfolded the fabric covering her stolen treasure. “I saw syringes full of something, along with empty containers, and these. I also found alcohol swabs and betadine solution. Who carries betadine in a briefcase?”

“You stole from a John? Are you crazy?” Wendy snatched the wooden box with a huff and a groan.

Detailing around the container’s top edge included an intricate inlay bearing a darker grain. Similar designs decorated urns. “You better hope we can return them before he notices they’re gone. Where did you hook up?”

Wendy slid the lid back on the six-by-six inch square. The smooth glide on concealed grooves further testament to the boosted prize’s value.

Shadows shielded the contents from Remie’s view.

Wendy’s high-pitched scream rendered the burgeoning storm to white noise, instinctual awareness hurling the box’s contents against the windshield. Their arc proved too fast to visually track. Two pink lumps, small and irregularly shaped, formed the basis for a new nightmare.

The rattle and thump of the container ended when it landed perched on the steering wheel, upside down.

“Fuck! What the hell are those?” First medical school, then forensic pathology, enlightened Remie to evil’s worst-case scenarios. Her mom once said that after indoctrination, nothing new would appear under the sun. Whoever created this mayhem transcended anything evolved from humanity’s convoluted gene pool.

A sudden gust of wind and rain blew in as the driver’s door flew open. Gena lurched forward and hunched away from the torrent of slashing storm riding the invading cool blast. Her descent into hell included a flash of silver and guttural laugh.

#science #fiction #fantasy #thriller #book blog #bookworm

[literal-fand0m-trash]

Psychic Wars Part 8. Simon Said Part 1

Note:  I do not own any of the Supernatural characters or stories, but I do own Dakota Winchester. Please leave comments and let me know if you want to be tagged.

Summary: Sequel to Dakota Elizabeth Winchester

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4    Part 5   Part 6   Part 7

Masterlist

Dakota and Dean were sitting in a booth at a run down diner in the middle on nowhere when Sam came back to their table clutching his head.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“It happened again.” Sam said, standing next to the table. They didn't have to ask what he meant. He had had another vision.

“Let’s go.” Dakota said standing up and throwing a few bills on the table before walking out to the car.

“Don’t you think we’re overreacting just a little. Why don’t we just chill out and think about this?” Dean said after an hour of silence in the car, except for the quiet rock music playing from the radio.

She looked up her brothers as Sam glared at Dean, “What is there to think about?”

“Just don’t know if going to the Roadhouse is the smartest idea.” Dean said.

“Really?” Dakota sassed.

“Dean, it’s another premonition, I know it. This is going to happen.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, and Ash is the man with the answers. He can tell us where.” Dakota said.

“Plus, it could connection with the demon.” Sam added.

“Kota, how did you meet these people again?” Dean asked.

“Dad used to leave me there when I was in my early teens and then I crashed with them for a few months while I was looking for you.” Dakota explained and Dean nodded in understanding.

“Why were you looking for Dean?” Sam asked and Dakota waved him off.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later.” She shrugged.

“Look, my point is that there are going to be hunters there and I don’t know announcing that you two are some kind of Supernatural freaks with demonic connections is the best idea.” Dean explained

Dakota felt a pang in her chest as Dean called her and Sam freaks, “So now we’re freaks?” Sam asked.

“You two have always been freaks.” He smiled trying to play it off like he was just talking about them as siblings, but at that moment Dakota knew that Dean saw her as something other than human. Something to be feared.

……….

They pulled up to the Roadhouse later that night and the minute Dakota walked through the doors Ellen swept her up in a tight hug. Ellen and Jo pulled her over to an open table where they caught up as the boys went to grab Ash from his room.

“How’s school?” Dakota asked Jo who rolled her eyes. Dakota knew that Jo didn’t want to be in college, but Ellen was making her.

“Don’t start that again Johannah Beth. Do you know how badly this girl wanted to be in your shoes?” Ellen said pointing at Dakota who threw her hands up in surrender.

“Mom!” Jo whined and Dakota looked around for her brothers, desperately trying to find a way out of another family feud over higher education.

“I think the boys are calling me.” Dakota said, excusing herself from the conversation and quickly jogging over to where she had seen her brothers.

Ash was sitting at one of the tables with his laptop out with Sam sitting next to him while Dean grabbed some drinks from the bar. Dakota grabbed a chair and sat next to Ash.

“Hey Dr. Badass.” Dakota said, knowing that was what he liked to be called while he was “geniousing” as he called it.

“Hey kid.” He said not looking away from the computer, “I found that symbol you were looking for Sam. It’s the logo for Blue Ridge bus line in Guthrie, Oklahoma.” Ash read.

“Okay. Do me a favor, check for signs of demonic omens or around there.” Sam said.

“You think your demon is there?” Ash asked as he started typing and Dakota looked over his shoulder.

“Maybe.” She muttered.

“Why would you think that?” Ash asked as Dean walked up and set four beers on the table.

“Just check it, alright?” He said.

Ash typed for a moment before sitting back in his chair, “No, sir. No demon. No nothing.”

“Can you do me another favor. Search Guthrie for a house fire. It would have been around 1983.” Sam said and Dakota leaned further over Ash’s shoulder.

“Nothing. Anything more specific?” Ash asked.

“The origin of the fire would have been the baby’s nursery the night of the kid’s six-month birthday.” Dakota specified.

“Okay, that is just weird, girl. Why the Hell would I be looking for that.” Ash asked.

“‘Cause there’s a PBR in it for you if you do.” She promised.

“Give me fifteen minutes.” He said turning back to the computer.

The Winchester’s sat around sipping their drinks for a while before R.E.O. Speedwagon started playing and Dean had to go start a fight with Jo over her music choice.

“And there’s a match.” Ash said leaning across the table and grabbing the beer Dakota had promised him.

“I’ll go get Dean. Can you print this out?” Dakota asked standing up and walking towards Jo and Dean, “We gotta go.” She said. Dean nodded and started heading for the door while Dakota grabbed Jo in a hug, “I’ll call you soon. Have fun at school. Don’t give your mom too much of a hard time.”

……….

“So what have we got?” Dean asked once they were on the road.

“Andrew Gallagher. Born in ‘83.” Sam read.

“Like us.” Dakota said leaning forward so she could talk to her brothers.

“Lost his mother in a fire when he was six months old.” Sam continued.

“Also like us.”

“You think the demon killed his mom?” Dean asked.

“Sure looks like it.” Dakota said.

“How did you even know to look for this guy?” Dean asked.

“Every premonition I’ve had, if they're not about the demon, they’re about the other kids the demon visited. Like Max Miller, remember him?” Sam asked. Dakota remembered that vividly, it was rather hard to forget that she one time stopped a bullet using her mind.

“Yeah, but Max Miller was a basic little psycho.” Dean pointed out.

“Point is her was killing people and I was having the same type of visions about him. And now it could be happening all over again with this Gallagher guy.” Sam said.

“How do we find him?” Dean asked.

“We wait for Sam to have another vision, or we try to find the one person in town who’s emotions I can’t read.” Dakota joked.

“That might be our only option. No current address.  No current employment. He still owes money on all his bills.” Sam read off.

“Collection agency flag?” Dakota asked.

“Not in the system.” Sam said.

“What?” Dakota asked.

“They just let him take a walk?” Dean questioned.

“Seems like it.” Sam shrugged. “There’s a work address from his last W-2 about a year ago.”

“I guess we’re starting there.” Dakota said.

……….

Early the next morning Dakota was sitting in her FBI clothes in a diner with her brothers talking to the head waitress.

“You won’t get anything out of Andy. I’m sorry, but they never do.” She smiled sweetly, her voice had a thick southern accent to it and her blond hair was loose around her shoulders.

“‘They’?” Sam asked.

“You’re debt collectors aren’t you?” She asked setting the coffee pot down, “Once in awhile they come by. I don’t know what Andy says to them, but they never come back.”

“Actually we’re lawyers representing his great aunt Lita. She passed- God rest her soul- left Andy a sizeable estate.” Dean said.

“Yeah. Are you a friend of Andy’s do you know where we could find him?” Dakota asked.

“I used to be. I don’t see much of Andy anymore.” The waitress said looking down at her hands.

“Andy? Andy kicks ass man.” A server said coming up next to them and leaning on the counter.

“Is that right?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. He can get you into anything. He even got me backstage at Aerosmith once. It was beautiful.” The server said.

“I want to go backstage at an Aerosmith concert!” Dakota pouted.

“You don’t even like Aerosmith.” Dean pointed out.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t say no to getting in backstage.” She said.

“She gets it.” The sever said pointing at Dakota.

“That’s great. How ‘bout bussing a table or two, Webber?” The waitress said and Webber sulked off, “Look, if you want to find Andy, try Orchard Street. Just look for a van with a barbarian queen painted on the side.”

“A barbarian queen?” Dean asked and Dakota felt her face scrunch in confusion.

“She’s riding a polar bear.” The waitress shrugged.

……….

A van with a barbarian queen riding a polar bear on the side of it was not something that was hard to miss and they found it parked on Orchard Street. Unfortunately it was empty so they sat in the Impala waiting for Andy to show up.

“I’m sorry, but I’m starting to like this dude. That van is sweet.” Dean said after a minute.

“How much are you willing to bet there is shag carpet in the back?” Dakota asked.

“Oh...five bucks. Sammy, you in?” Dean asked and Dakota turned to she a look of worry on Sam’s face.

“Dude, you look like you’re sucking on a lemon. What’s wrong?” Dakota asked.

“This Andy Gallagher, he’s the second guy like this we’ve found. The demon came to them when they were kids and now they’re killing people.” Sam said.

“We don’t know what Andrew Gallagher is. He could be innocent.” Dean said.

“The demon said he has plans for me and the children like me. Maybe this is his plan. Maybe we’re all a bunch of psychic freaks!” Sam said.

“Dude, I’m an empath. You have visions. That’s not really psycho psychic killer material.” Dakota said.

“How are you handling this situation so calmly?!” Sam asked turning around in his seat.

Dakota shrugged, “Demons lie. Maybe there is no plan for us and whatever happens happens. I haven’t started losing it and trying to kill everyone yet, so I’m not gonna worry about if I might one day.”

“Got him.” Dean said. Dakota turned and saw Andy walking out of a house and waving to a girl in the window who was wearing lingerie. She looked back at Andy who she had to admit was cute if not a little dorky, with his dark bed head, stubble, brown eyes, and a kimono on with sweats and a band tee shirt. He walked up street and stopped a man, had a short conversation, then took the man’s coffee before continuing as if nothing had happened. He walked up to someone else and shook their hand and Dakota saw Sam sit up.

“That’s him. The older guy, that’s the shooter.” Sam said.

“Okay, you two keep a watch on him. I’ll stick with Andy.” Dean instructed and they climbed out of the car before following the man as he turned down the street. They followed him all the way to the main street before he stopped and pulled out his phone, just like he had in Sam’s vision.

“We need to bet him to the gun shop.” Sam whispered and they ran across the street before the older man even got off the phone. Dakota stood outside the store while Sam went inside and not a minute later the fire alarm went off. Sam came out and stood next to her as the man approached, saw that the store was now closed and walked away right as some college age guy on a skateboard rode by and whistled causing Dakota to roll her eyes.

“Did that guy just whistle at you? With me standing right next to you?” Sam asked in shock.

“Welcome to the wonderful world of being a woman.” Dakota responded.

“But, I’m standing right next to you! For all that guy knows I could have been your boyfriend!” Sam exclaimed.

“Would you relax. Those boys don’t break my stride, plus if I’m in the mood it will not be with some dude who is whistling ‘cause he has nothing to say.” Dakota explained as a car drove by and honked at her and she rolled her eyes, “Or who’s honking at me from his Chevrolet.” She said pointing to the car that just drove by, “Wait. That’s our Chevrolet! That’s the Impala!!” She cried and she pulled out her phone.

“Dean. What the Hell?” She asked.

“Andy got the Impala.” He pouted.

“Yeah, I just saw him drive by. Again, what the Hell happened?” She repeated.

“He just sort of asked me for it and I let him take it, okay? He full-on Obi Wan-ed me. It’s mind control.” Dean yelled and then there were screams coming from behind her. Dakota turned around and saw that the man she and Sam had been following had been hit by a bus.

“I kept out of the gun store.” Sam whispered, his face going pale and Dakota put a hand on his shoulder, “I thought he was okay. I thought he was past it.”

Dean ran up to them a few minutes later and found them sitting on the curb while police swarmed the area.

“Come on. Let’s head to the diner and try to figure out what’s going on.” Dean said pulling Dakota and Sam to their feet.

They walked for twenty minutes before they stumbled across the diner and saw the Impala sitting unharmed in front of the store and Dakota smiled as Dean ran over to the car and practically hugged it.

“I’m sorry, Baby. I’ll never leave you again.” He promised his beloved car. Dakota looked in the front seat.

“Well, at least he left the keys in.” Dakota said.

“Yeah, real Samaritan, this guy.” Dean grumbled, “Looks like he can’t work his mojo just by twitching his nose. He’s got to use verbal commands.”

“The doctor had just gotten off his phone when he stepped in front of that bus.” Sam recalled and Dakota remembered someone at the scene saying the man had been a doctor of sorts, “Andy must have called him or something.”

“I just don’t know that he’s our guy.” Dean said.

“You had O.J. convicted before he even stepped out of his Bronco, and you have doubts about this?” Sam asked fixing Dean with a glare.

“I agree that he doesn’t seem like the stone-cold killer type, but he must be connected.” Dakota said.

“And for the record, O. J. was guilty!” Dean snapped.

“Either way, how are we going to track this guy down?” Sam asked.

Dean smirked then walked away, leaving Dakota and Sam to jog to catch up with him.

Tags: @one-giggling-unic0rn   @skeletoresinthebasement

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