#I will provide the plane ticket if interested fuck it

[inkedbookboyfriend]

I've literally not had sex since I got stuck with this fucking bag. I need a weekend with just nasty dirty hard-core fucking!!

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

What do you think Marcy's relationship with her parents was like after Amphibia?

Oooooh interesting question mmmm well i AM a believer that her parents are awful, so there's that. I don't think they beat her up or anything but if Sasha fucking Waybright was a better option than them in her most desperate moments, they must be just as bad as her if not worse. Or rather, they must have been failing to provide something Sasha and Anne fulfilled. I've seen people despicting them as emotionally neglectful, which is something I think makes sense.

I do have the headcanon that they didn't really have the patience for Marcy. She was just too hyper, had too much energy, talked too much, got into too many accidents, broke too many things. I think they were often mad at her even when she did nothing wrong, like just generally pissed off most of the time. They found everything she said annoying no matter how harmless and let her know, so she started to feel it was better if she kept quiet. That meant Anne and Sasha were her only outlet to like... talk to anyone at all, and they didn't listen to her much, but at least they let her talk. They let her put on her silly little movies and sometimes humored her by playing a little bit of C&C with her. If Marcy was so happy to accept the bare minimum, it must be because she was getting nothing with her family. The fact that her way of worming her way into people's hearts is making herself useful tells me her parents mostly just appreciated her for her achievements, soooo...

I do think her parents love her. I just don't think they like her, or that they have much patience for her, mostly telling her to be quiet, to do play her little games somewhere else or they just ignore her when she talks. They were desperately looking for her when she went missing and were infinitely relieved when she got back. There were lots of hugs and tears and they didn't leave her side while she was in the hospital. They also felt a bit guilty for ignoring her so much during the past few years. Worrying they'd never see her again made them realize how much time they lost. For some time, they were a lot more patient with her, listening to her talk about her little games and her feelings and how her day at school was and the pretty friendship bracelets Anne and Sasha made for her. It almost felt like everything had been fixed, like everything would change and be alright. She felt a little bit less scared of moving now.

But as time passed, they kinda fell back into their own habits. They were a bit less mean about it, but despite how hard they tried... they just couldn't like their daughter. She was weird and annoying and never paid attention to her surroundings. For the first few weeks she'd wake them up every night at 3am in tears asking to sleep with them because she had a nightmare, and they were okay with it at first, but after a month of her disrupting their sleep they began to ask her to please stay in her room unless it's absolutely necessary. Her heart broke when they said that - she needed them.

She began to call Anne and Sasha whenever she had nightmares, panic attacks or chest pain, and they always picked the phone. Late night videocalls became their new routine, until her parents asked her not to call her friends at night because she couldn't keep her voice down when she did, so she switched to texting them instead.

Only good thing was that they were happy to pay for several plane tickets a year so she could visit them. She'd spend full summers with the Boonchuys, and they even let her spend the holidays with her friends. The latter they did because they knew Anne and Sasha were better for their daughter than they could ever be, though the former was a way for them to catch a break from her. Unsurprisingly, Marcy's mental health improved a lot whenever she was with her girls.

So... they fulfilled their basic duties as parents but often struggled to provide the emotional support Marcy needed, relying on her friends to do the work they couldn't. They do want Marcy to be happy and they do feel guilty for not being able to help her but their lack of patience always gets the best of them. Put simply, they just can't stand her no matter how much they try. They do a great effort to treat her nicely but every word that comes out of her mouth is immensely irritating to them. Actually, maybe they kinda just hate their daughter. They're really happy when, ten years after that whole mess, they hear she'll be moving back to LA with her friend Sasha. Hopefully she'll be happy there, and hopefully they'll get their lives back after 23 years of constant struggle and frustration.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for cutting my friend off after I visited him?

I, 19X (I’m nonbinary), visited my friend, M21, in his home country not too long ago. I paid for my own plane ticket, I paid for American snacks for him and his friends, and when I arrived I paid for any food I ate, all of our outings (my expenses and his for the most part), and even helped cover the difference on the electric/water bill. He provided me lodging (I slept on his couch for 3 weeks) and created the itinerary as he’s naturally more familiar with the country than I am. In total, I spent around 3,000 USD, spent 24 hours on a plane, and had jet lag for 3 weeks. I also dealt with extreme mental health symptoms alone while there because of homesickness and general issues I have.

We had been friends for almost 7 years at that point - we met when I was 12 and he was 14. For that entire time, we were incredibly close and supported each other through high school and the beginning of university. All this to say, our history was extensive, and I was excited to visit him. He was my best friend, so it didn’t matter how hard it was for me. I wanted to see him. To emphasize how strong our bond was, he literally got a tattoo representing me.

A month or so after I arrived home from my trip, he sent me a message at 3 AM (he intentionally sent it at that time so I couldn’t respond to him). The message basically said that he no longer felt as close to me, that it wasn’t anything I did, but he was changing and his interests were elsewhere. It was a classic “it’s not you, it’s me” move. He did specify that he still wanted to be my friend and that he still loved and cared for me, but that he wouldn’t be putting in as much effort. After sending that message, he didn’t say anything more for about two days.

I was distraught over this and freaked the fuck out, to be candid. But then I got to thinking and my sadness and anxiety turned to rage. I’d spent so much money just on him, I’d turned my life upside down to see him, I was jet lagged for three whole weeks, I was working back to back 12 hour shifts to make up for the money I’d lost — and that was it? He just didn’t feel close to me anymore? Granted, it’s not like he can control his feelings, but I started to feel like all that effort I put in was wasted. I asked him how long he had felt that way (distant from me), and he said he’d felt that way for around a year but he’d just now realized.

That was the nail on the coffin for me. That, and the fact that he only ever talked to me if I was the one to reach out. I removed him from all of my socials and left any servers we had in common. I deleted a lot of his old artwork. The message he sent me helped me realize a long pattern - he didn’t put in as much effort as I did, and I was secondary. Granted, I don’t expect to be the most important person in his life, but he would tell me all the time about his other friends — he’d send me pictures of them, screenshots of their messages to him, all that. And they knew nothing about me. I was going to visit and meet them and they hadn’t even seen a picture of me before.

Some part of me feels like I’m overreacting, though. I just want other people’s feedback on this. Am I the asshole for cutting him out of my life?

What are these acronyms?

[heightsofmadness]

"my antagonist is real real powerful but people keep dozing off when I talk about them, what's going on?"

"my character can do this this and this but I'm worried does that make them OP?"

"I made this guy blow up a whole bunch of stuff but I keep hearing feedback that nobody cares about him wtf?"

Power does not make a character interesting.

If I ask you to tell me why I should care about your antagonist, and you say "because if you don't then she'll burn your house down," then you don't have a character; you have a natural disaster with a face.

If I ask you about how the hero and villain interact and you tell me about what special moves they use, then your characters don't have a relationship; they have choreography.

Fundamentally, the thing that makes characters interesting is the choices they make. "But my character is choosing to do this so they can be more powerful" no no no that's not my point

When a character only has one realistic option, that's not a choice.

If you have an awesome sniper-wizard who can beat Godzilla by snapping his fingers, and someone says "win this fighting tournament or your planet will be destroyed," what is your sniper-wizard gonna do? Enter the tournament. And win, probably. It's not a choice.

But if that same character is told, "win this jazz music competition without using magic or your planet will be destroyed," what will they do? They don't play any instruments. It's not their area of expertise. Suddenly they have a bunch of options, and none of them seem like sure bets: do they try to learn saxophone? Do they try to make a replacement planet? Do they just let the planet explode, knowing they'll probably survive? Their answer to this choice will tell us about who they are, how they see the world, and what they value.

And here's where it gets crazy: sometimes the best thing you can do is make them do something that DOESN'T make sense. In response to being told to win a jazz tournament, our wizard buys a plane ticket to New Jersey.

"What the fuck?" you ask. "What does New Jersey have to do with anything?" And you're baffled, because you were pretty sure one of a handful of things were going to happen. But that means you're asking for an answer. If I can provide one, then I've got you. You're hooked. You're engaged.

The wizard is going to New Jersey because he knows a fairy who can give him musical talent.

"That's dumb. Why didn't they ask the fairy to do it earlier?"

Because the fairy wants a favor in return, and it's a price the wizard wasn't previously willing to pay.

"What's the price?" you ask. But your real question is, what did the wizard value above musical virtuosity, but DOES NOT value higher than the fate of the world?

And since you're thinking along those lines, I've got you by the goddamn brainstem, because you now think of this OP sniper-wizard OC as a person. If they fight, you'll care because a person you know is involved. If they burn down someone's house, you'll care because that's not something you expected your friend to do.

Remember this above all when designing characters: what they can do is not as significant as what they choose to do; what they choose to do is not as significant as why they chose to do it.

Or to put it a different way, if a character intentionally burns down someone's house, that's an action scene. If a character intentionally burns down their own house, that's an arc-defining moment.

[quinnlarrabee]

Oat milk fad over, Brooklynites buying cows

I’ve spent over $600 on upcharges for oat milk in coffee shops. I actually sat down and calculated it: I caffeinate outside of my home on average twice a week, I started requiring oat milk in my cappuccinos in the winter of 2017, and it cost me one dollar each time I eschewed cow’s milk for oat. Hence, $624. I could have done a lot of meaningful, sensible, and fun things with that money. I could have bought a round trip plane ticket to somewhere kind of interesting (provided I bought the ticket a month in advance, which I never do). I could have saved an additional two dollars a week and, with interest rates being what they are, had like $20k by now. I could have upgraded my iPhone, which terrifies me, because the app I use to store the unsolicited nudes people send me now requires a cloud subscription if I want to access them on a new phone. With $624, I could have gone on four really nice dates, or about seven if I wasn’t super excited about the people I was taking out. I could have done a lot of things with that $624, and I could have also prevented 624 barista eye rolls if I hadn’t inexplicably jumped on the oat milk bandwagon. Why did I start drinking oat milk? 

I am not lactose intolerant.

I tolerate lactose like a fucking champion. I could suck milk right out of an udder on an empty stomach and then crush an ironman triathlon. I could eat whole milk yogurt (eat never seems like the right word for consuming yogurt - we need a word between eat and drink) for three meals a day and have cottage cheese for dessert with nary a single fart. I process dairy like a ravenous midwestern 6-month-old. 

I am not particularly bothered by the environmental implications of the 1,024 ounces (8 gallons) of frothed milk I consume each year in espresso drinks. I do not drink milk in any other format or context, because I’m over the age of 13 and I’m not a frontier vigilante who lives with his grandmother in Nevada. So really, how much methane is emitted by a cow in the time it takes to produce the paltry 8 gallons of milk I drink each year? To save OCD dairy-haters the trouble, I googled that for you. The whole milk cappuccinos I gave up for five years saved a scrape under 10 pounds of methane. Giving up cow milk in my coffee didn’t exactly make me an environmentalist. 

Lactose and environmental concerns ruled out, it would be reasonable to assume that I started drinking oat milk because it was trendy, but I derive more pleasure from mocking trends than following them, usually at my own expense. For example, I think guys look ridiculous in those billowy, drop-crotch, bedoin harem pants, but I cannot deny their inexplicable sexual magnetism: if you put harem pants on a scarecrow at dawn they’d be around its ankles by dusk. Did I fly to Bali and buy a pair? Absofuckinglutely not. Same with man buns. I have yet to see an aspirational man bun, but just try to find a guy with a man bun who doesn’t have four supermodel girlfriends. I’d probably have at least one catalog model girlfriend if I had a man bun, but I’d rather be celibate than be a guy with a man bun. When everyone was moving to Williamsburg to “create community” and ended up meeting the loves of their lives at floor parties and then marrying them at Burning Man, I bought an apartment in the West Village and got to know the vendors at the farmers market across the street. I’m probably still single as a result (the many other reasons I’m still single will have their own post). I am not a man who follows trends. My oat milk upcharge habit wasn’t because it was cool. 

I truly have no idea why I started drinking oat milk. 

One day I just woke up and had a violent disdain for cow’s milk and felt a fierce allegiance to oat milk. I think the same thing happened to millions of other people who are not lactose intolerant environmentalist trend whores. I have some theories. 

Beauty.

The more beautiful someone is, the more insufferable and excruciating their dietary restrictions are, provided they’re American and from a blue city (everyone beautiful in America ends up in a blue city or gets fat). In America, beauty correlates to trivial but tedious dietary decisions. This isn’t true elsewhere. Beautiful Europeans will literally eat pork schnitzel, duck fat french fries and an entire block of cheese followed by twelve cigarettes and still be totally chill. Not beautiful Americans. If there is an edible substance that has a more expensive or difficult to find substitute, a beautiful American will feel entitled to it everywhere they go. I think oat milk was added to the portfolio of irritating substitutes demanded by beautiful people, and people wanted to belong to the rarified club of entitled beautiful people who could get away with off-menu ordering a grilled lemon with wild-harvested salmon roe and vegan sour cream at Del Friscos. Asking for oat milk at a coffee shop became tantamount to saying, I’m beautiful enough to be annoying and get away with it. 

Scarcity. 

Related to the previous trend, scarcity drove demand for oat milk. There was a time when oat milk existed but wasn’t available in the United States. It was like when you could only get Spotify prior to 2011 through your annoying British friend’s VPN. Similarly, I remember being in Waitrose in London in 2016 and spotting Oatly on the shelf. I was so excited by this rare and innovative beverage with playful, self-deprecating carton copy that I stashed a gallon of it in my checked luggage and paid an excess weight fee to fly it across the Atlantic. It was probably the most expensive gallon of milk ever purchased, but I had to have it because it was hard to get. That initial frothy (pun!) scarcity drove demand for oat milk, and even after it was no longer obscure, it still wasn’t the default milk at coffee shops, so it still felt scarce.   

Sweden. 

Oat milk was invented in the early 1990s by a Swedish food scientist called Richard Öste. Because oat milk was Swedish, everyone wanted it. Name one bad thing that comes from Sweden. I’ll wait a few weeks for you to think about it. You’re back empty handed? Exactly. Literally everything that comes from Sweden is amazing. Abba. Volvos. Prefabricated houses. Meatballs. Subtle socialism. Cheap unpronounceable modern furniture that takes longer to assemble than it lasts. It became known that oat milk was a Swedish export, and suddenly everyone who described their aesthetic as “clean” had switched to øat milk. 

MAGA. 

Trump was elected in 2016. Between 2017 and 2019, oat milk sales increased ten fold. Coincidence? I think not. Trump and his MAGA zombies represented good old fashioned American values. Trucks. Steak. Misogyny. Incest. And yes, dairy. Could you imagine Donald Trump asking for oat milk in his coffee? No, you couldn’t, partially because he doesn’t even drink coffee, but also because he has the diet of a petulant seven-year-old boy.

I think anyone who hated Trump instinctively, reflexively gravitated to anything that was antithetical to him. Switching from cow’s milk to oat milk was a political statement, an act of rebellion. If Trump had lost in 2016, oat milk would have lost, too.

Woke mylk. 

Prior to 2014, very few people knew what oat milk was, and very few people knew what “woke” was. Before it was weaponized by both ends of the political spectrum, staying woke in the Black community meant being aware of institutional deception and evolved into a watchword for activists on the lookout for police brutality and injustice in law enforcement. For a few minutes, woke was a productive rallying cry to combat racism and the marginalization of all minorities. Woke was then co-opted by privileged white people who wanted to feel victimized by the system that afforded them the privilege to feel victimized. These white people started drinking oat milk because it kind of rhymes with woke milk, because they decided that any industry that could have the word “Big” in front of it was inherently evil, and because milk that wasn’t dairy could have an alternative spelling, which woke white folks go apeshit for. Thus, oat mylk - with a “y” - became the elixir of political correctness run amok and the official beverage of annoying white people who sequestered themselves into an echo chamber of righteous ultra-left ideology and turned a blind eye to the fact that they were alienating swing voters away from voting blue and driving them into the clutches of the political party that preys on the fear of children dressing in drag at Christmas mass. Woke white people will abandon oat milk for pea milk in 2025 when they realize that their appropriation and dilution of woke single-handedly got Ron DeSantis elected. 

Oat milk is as over as Silicon Valley Bank.

All of the forces that propelled oat milk into the spotlight have withered. Oat milk is so common that even unattractive people drink it, Oatly is now made not in Sweden but in China, there’s a democrat in the White House, and with the economy looking like the Hindenburg and scared raccoons at the helm of the Fed, no one has an extra dollar to burn on the oat milk upcharge. People have slid down from the top of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, where the performative woke flag had been planted, all the way to the bottom where simplicity reigns supreme.  

The world is gravitating to what it can understand. Have you ever looked at the back of a box of oat milk? So many ingredients, and some even have triggering names: oats, water, low erucic acid rapeseed oil, dipotassium phosphate, calcium carbonate, tricalcium phosphate, sea salt, dicalcium phosphate, riboflavin, vitamin A, vitamin D2, vitamin B12. Like the failing startups that SVB lent $200B to, that shit is way too complex for these uncertain times. Have you ever looked at the ingredients label of a gallon of cow’s milk? Of course not, because the ingredient in cow’s milk is cow’s milk, and that’s the kind of no-bullshit (pun!) milk people want right now.

When times get weird, people go back to the dark ages, which today is buying $12 a quart raw cow’s milk through friends who have houses Upstate because raw milk - which is having a moment with yoga influencers and stay-at-home girlfriends on TikTok - can only be purchased on the farm where it’s produced. I think the synthetic milk backlash will be so swift and the allure of wholesome milk straight from the family udders so strong that Brooklyn hipsters will buy their own cows.

I can see the Park Slope listings on Douglas Elliman now: “backyard space for not only your cow but also your goat for households with lactose-sensitive family members - room for all your ruminants!” Hooved milkable animals will become bigger status symbols in NYC than flying out of Teterboro to Aspen. The ultra-rich will keep buffalos on their own floors in Park Avenue penthouses and stock their Hamptons compounds with camels and yaks. Wine cellars will be replaced with milk cellars. They’ll host exotic milk tastings in Southampton and play milk drinking games like, Guess Which Endangered Animal My Milk Mustache Came From. 

The closest I’ll get to any of this will be a raw cow’s milk mustache in the West Village. Maybe if I wear it outside my apartment I’ll finally attract a supermodel. 

[penwieldingdreamer]

Just one Kiss

The third installment of my Daniel Ricciardo drabble/one-shot series. Also thank you so much for so many likes and reblogs on the other, too. I finally found a fandom again that I enjoy writing for, thank you guys.

If you're interested in the songs that inspire this, here's the Series Playlist

Happy reading. Let me know what you think.

I kept the reader as vague as possible. While writing I imagined a plus size! female! reader but you can think up whatever you want.

You had a shitty day at work, so Daniel invites you to stay with him in Monaco. In the end something might change for you both.

previous part

Warnings: fluff, some angst

Words: 2203

Come to Monaco, take some time off. We’ll go hiking and swimming, you’ll love it.

You read and re-read his message. Daniel had sent you the plane tickets after yet another lengthy call about your crazy boss who was complaining all the time. Covid had hit every business, but just like everyone else you weren’t able to change it and you couldn’t get people inside the shop to buy enough cars to keep your boss afloat.

Each and every day, no matter how hard you worked he wasn’t happy with your performance, even though all he did was sit inside his office and drink the expensive whiskey a friend gave him. 

You had joked about looking for a millionaire boyfriend and stop working if you found yourself with such a boss each time you changed workplaces. The Aussie had laughed at that, telling you he’d be there, providing for everything. “Don’t do that, I’d be stamped as a gold digger.”

“Fuck ‘em, I’d still do it.” His voice was hard but still making you laugh. “Besides, you’d be a great WAG.”

Smiling at his omission, you thanked him but couldn’t help picturing what life would be like if you did end up with the F1 driver. The glitz and glamor wasn't something you needed, but joining him on one of his trips or at races definitely had its perks. After that you had talked about his upcoming race in Spain and the one back in Silverstone where he ended up on P14, not something he wanted. Not for the team and especially for himself. 

“You’ll get on the podium again, Danny, it will come. Stay positive.” You tried to encourage but heard the doubt in his voice.

“I know, it’s just, I don't have a good feeling with the car. It’s working great one day and the next something is wrong. I don’t know.”

A few hours later you found his message and the link to the tickets on your phone and you knew saying No was not an option. You answered him with a grinning emoji, knowing the Renault driver was already awake and waiting for your reply.

Get ready to dine and wine me, loverboy.

The next day at work you put in your vacation time and left your boss’ office before he could comment on it. You knew he wasn’t happy with you being gone for two weeks, but since you had started working for him you had about two days off from work in the last year. 

“You dare leave with such short notice when it’s the busiest time of the year? I need you here, Y/N!” he called, standing at his desk and gripping your letter before you could close the door.

"I dare to. Work is slow anyway, with the pandemic people don't want to buy cars right now."

Grumbling, he sat back down. "Just make sure you'll do a better job than before so people actually come back. With your mood swings I'd not buy a car from you, too."

Swallowing the cuss, you gave him a tight nod before leaving the office. If you didn't need that job you'd probably have given that idiot a piece of your mind but at the moment he was still paying you more than your last workplace.

Back at your own desk you shot a quick text to Daniel, wishing him luck for the race in Spain and that you couldn't wait for the weekend to be over very quickly.

Three more days, babes, and you'll enjoy the Côte d'Azur. We'll meet in Nice at the airport, I'll be waiting at your gate.

True to his words the weekend was over faster than you thought and Daniel had sent you a voice message in the morning reminding you to have all your essentials, travel documents and to bring the happiest mood now that you would spend two weeks with the Honey Badger himself. You didn't know how he always did it, he was such a happy-go-lucky guy, although sometimes having a bad day, but just picturing his smile while he sent that voice made your day brighter. 

The plane ride was uneventful, even with the pandemic. All you had to do was keep your mask on and everyone was happy. Music was something you probably shared with Danny, you needed it when you were traveling, driving, cooking or just reading a book sometimes. Music made everything better and lifted the mood a bit, so thanks to some of the songs the Aussie had recommended, the journey to Nice, France had been faster than you thought.

You felt giddy, knowing he would be waiting for you at the arrival gate, hopefully in the same mood as he had that morning, knowing the weekend hadn't gone as planned for him as he wanted to. The plane finally touched down, passengers clapping and whooping loudly before you heard the snaps and clicks of the belts being loosened. Sometimes you wondered why people couldn't wait until you reached the parking spot. The doors wouldn't be opened before then, so why bother being the first to grab your shit when you'd still have to wait patiently. Shaking your head, you turned your phone back on.

You sent a quick message to your friend and family, letting them know you got there okay and one to Danny, so he knew you were about to meet him. With him being a famous driver you didn't know how many people might recognize him, if some at all with having to wear the masks and didn't want him to be in the middle of all of that. Although he once told you he didn't mind at all, but with it being this early he was confident it was smooth riding from there on.

Can't wait to see you, babes.

You chuckled at the nickname he gave you. He started a few weeks ago and when you asked him about it, the Aussie explained that it was the nickname for baby or mini potatoes.

"So, I'm a potato now?"

“No, you’re my baby potato.” His laugh had echoed through the speaker and you couldn’t help the grin that stole itself onto your lips as you thought back to it.

Grabbing your travel bag from the overhead compartment you stood and followed the passengers out of the plane. You couldn’t wait to get out of that crowd and see Danny again. It had been too long since you had time off and spending your free time with him was such a privilege. He was literally the sun, even when he had a bad day, he wanted to make his friends and loved ones smile no matter what.

Walking out of the gate, you finally were able to lose the throng of people that had traveled with you. That’s when you found him standing there in his merch hoodie, sunglasses and a mask. 

“Babes, fuck I missed that smile.” He pulled you closer, his arms circling around your shoulders. Michael was sitting opposite the gate at a small cafe area, enjoying a light breakfast. "Did you have breakfast?"

You shook your head, food hadn’t been on your mind this early in the morning. Your flight had left at dawn and plane food was never something you enjoyed, so you nibbled on the cookies and granola bar you had bought before take off. “I hoped I could get something here, enjoy the ocean view and sun.”

The Aussie chuckled, nodding over at Michael who had finished his coffee and scrambled eggs. “We’ll get your luggage, take a car to Monaco and then enjoy an amazing breakfast with a view.”

The drive to Monaco and Daniel’s home there was about half an hour but the scenery that flew past was the most beautiful you had seen in a while. The waters were so blue and even the mountains on the other side looked beautiful. Before you knew it the car was in the garage of the apartment complex. 

After a big brunch outside on the apartment balcony, enjoying the view down to the Port de Cap-d’Ali yacht club, the Aussie took you down to the beach. 

“Did you ever make a decision you might in the end think was the wrong one?” He asked you, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie.

You looked over at him, your hand instinctively moving to his elbow. “What’s going on, Daniel? I’ve never seen you so down before.”

Sighing, Daniel shook his head. “I, fuck, I’m not sure. With the DNF in Austria and the car's performance I asked for a seat at McLaren. I’m still finishing my contract but I don’t know if getting that ball rolling was right. I just want to race and get back on the podium.”

“Why didn't you tell me before, huh? We're friends. Are you really sure this is what you want? Changing teams, I mean. You know I’ll have your back, no matter what you do.” He put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side. “What did your agent say to that? And Cyril?”

Daniel laid a kiss onto your temple. “He’s on board I think, it’s just so fucking annoying. I try to get it working, I have a few good positions and then it’s fucked up again. Most of all I miss my cheerleader at the track. And well, Cyril is…he's not happy but we're amicable and I try to get the points in, so at least it will be a split on good grounds. I thought he was never going to talk to me again.”

“I guess I can understand that. I wouldn't be happy, too, if my star driver talked with other teams after the first race. But it is your life, your decision in the end and as long as you try I think that's more than you can say about other people. Just think it through very well and take it day by day. Also, I'd be there more often, but I can’t get out of work all the time even if I wanted to. But you know I’m always watching you race and keeping you in my prayers.”

The Aussie let out a soft laugh. “You sound like my mum, she’s doing the same with every race.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “Your mum’s not wrong to do that, it’s a risky business you’re enjoying. But it’s what you love so I guess there’s no way you’ll be quitting now.”

“Definitely not, but I’m glad you’re here now.” He stopped suddenly, his long fingers brushing a few loose strands out of your face. Daniel’s eyes locked with yours, switching down to look at your lips. Before you could react, his plush lips were on yours. His free hand moved behind your neck, pulling you closer to him.

Your own hands moved from his arms up to his shoulders, holding onto him with all your might, your knees already buckling from the sensations. The last time you had kissed him was back in Australia. That summer had haunted you for months - but in a good way if you were honest. You still felt his touch every night even when Daniel wasn’t there and for the longest time you had dreamed of getting that feeling back.

He pulled away, looking at your serene face. Your eyes were still closed and he couldn’t help the satisfied grin. “I really wanted to do that when you came to Silverstone.”

"There's still COVID, we should have been more careful. What if you"

"Fuck COVID, all I could think about was that smile and your lips. Kept me up at night every fucking day."

“Well, good things come to those who wait.” You returned his grin once you had looked back at him. Daniel had that broad grin he usually wore and you felt your insides tingle. “What’s it mean now?”

Shrugging his shoulders the F1 driver brushed his thumbs along your jaw. “I don’t know but I’d like to see where we're going. Take it day by day, ya know.”

“That’s a great idea I think.” You stood up on your tiptoes, grabbing his cheeks and pushing your lips against his for another kiss. 

Just one kiss had changed your dynamic from friends to something more and you couldn’t wait to explore where it might lead you.

The days after you spent swimming, hiking and just exploring Monaco and the area around the principality. You'd keep your relationship under wraps from the rest of the world for now, not an easy feat with him being a famous Formula 1 driver, but it didn't mean you had to sneak around. Daniel took you on a few dates and you promised to try and be at a few more races, staying at the Renault garage, rooting for your favorite Aussie. You also met his friends and saw Max again, enjoying the time out on the water with them and knew he had needed that time off from all the drama since the start of the season, not just with the pandemic but with the Renault-McLaren issue, too.

next part

[hisunshiine]

Escape ✈︎ Chapter 4

✈︎ chapter 4: you have been cordially invited... |✈︎ Escape Series—18+, Mature     

   ✈︎ genre: fluff, future smut

   ✈︎ word count: 2,736 words 

   ✈︎ pairing: jungkook x [redacted] (at the very end)

   ✈︎ warnings: alcohol consumption

   ✈︎ summary: A look into what it's like arriving to Bangtania...

| series masterlist | previous | next | hisunshiine | mrsparkjimin18 |

Everyday, since the very beginning when it was announced, you have sat at your computer or been on your phone in order to participate in the giveaway for a chance to go to Bangtania Island. Every week, one lucky person has a chance to win an exclusive invitation from the girls who organized it, all expenses paid for them to relocate out there.  

Friday couldn’t have come soon enough; your job was draining. A typical 9-5, doing office work was monotonous and you slogged through the week waiting for your weekends to come. Despite the wish to find something else, nobody was hiring in your city. Not for anything you wanted to do, anyways. Deep in your gut you felt the need for something more, instead of the repetitious clacking of your fingers against the keyboard, answering the phones, and feeling like a machine.

Fortunately, it’s the weekend, so you decide to stop and grab a bottle of wine and make your way home. You’re ready to unwind with some youtube videos and spend time browsing your social media for anything interesting. You pour a glass of wine and relax on the sofa, open your laptop and log in to twitter. You have a few notifications, including an update from the giveaway page, they had posted there was another winner chosen and that the winner would receive an email shortly.

“That was 30 minutes ago!?” You squeal to yourself, an unexplainable feeling creeping over you.

Just then your phone chimes, and you unlock the screen to check your notifications. You have multiple email notifications, so you check your email app as you sip your wine. Scrolling through them, it’s mainly junk mail, you see one that catches your eye.

Sender Name: Bangtania Island Mayor

Subject: You have been cordially invited…

Y/N,

Congratulations! You have been selected as the next lucky winner to be invited to Bangtania Island. In order to accept this invitation, please click on the link and fill out the application. Documents you may need to gather prior to completing the forms in the link are:

Driver’s License

Social Security Card

Passport

Please make sure to include the earliest date for you to travel, and please have your physical completed prior to boarding the plane. All documents needed are attached to the email. Please make sure to electronically sign them and reply to this email with the completed documents. If you have any questions in regards to the forms, please do not hesitate to reach out. Upon completion of all required documents per your reply email, you will receive your e-ticket for travel.

The following are the guidelines and stipulations for traveling to Bangtania Island:

You will receive a one-way ticket, free of cost. You will be picked up from the airport and transported to the boat, which will bring you to the island. You will be given a limited amount of time to decide if you would like to stay as a permanent resident of Bangtania, approximately 2 weeks. Prior to you being granted full access to the island, you will meet with the Deputy Mayor who will greet you at the dock, completing a brief in-person interview. If you decide to leave or prove unfit for the island at that time, a complimentary ticket home will be provided to you up until the 2-week window.

Thank you,

Vanessa

Deputy Mayor of the Mayor’s Office, Bangtania Island

You couldn’t stop yourself from spilling some wine as you low-key panicked. You knew there was a very good possibility of being chosen; some of your mutuals on twitter had already left to go there, and while you had seen them briefly on the TL, it was never for long and they didn’t say anything other than that they were enjoying themselves immensely and to share the sweepstakes link.

You set down what was left of your wine that hadn’t spilt into your lap, and ran around your room, pulling clothes off of their hangers and out of your dresser drawers before you remembered you hadn’t even clicked the link to complete the forms. 

Pausing in the middle of your bedroom, arms filled with random clothes, you took 7 deep breaths to try and calm down before dropping your handful of clothes into your pen and waiting suitcase. Sitting back down, you calmly clicked the link and once transported to the secure website, you filled in the information needed so that your flight could be purchased for you as well as any other accommodations you may need could be handled by the ones in charge. 

You printed out the forms needed for the physical, jotted down some notes to go to the doctor on Monday to complete the form, and decided that the earliest you would be able to fly out was Wednesday. That gives you enough time to go to your job, request use of your vacation hours for the next 2 weeks, and turn in your two week notice. You didn’t ever want to come back to that shit hole.

You celebrated the news by turning up your bluetooth speaker and blasting your favorite upbeat BTS songs while you packed up everything you would need. Hasta La Vista!

Catching your flight was easier than you thought it would be, as you had an upgraded flight in first class. You were given star treatment, access to a separate waiting area with complimentary food and drinks, less people to deal with, comfortable seats, the works. You couldn’t believe that ARMY was able to provide all of this for you, but who were you to complain? 

The boat ride was also nice, more like taking a large yacht across the water to the island, you stood at the bough of the boat for most of the trip, enjoying the view as you became farther and farther away from everything that was shitty about your life and closer to everything you wanted. An escape into a world that was full of other people who were like you, liked the same music, had the same mindset, and you got to do it all on a paradise island? Hell fucking yeah.

After docking, you rolled your luggage behind you as you disembarked from the ramp, and saw a girl waiting for you. She was short but cute, a friendly smile and aura of being in charge. Her cheeks were slightly sunburnt, but you were envious of the way she looked refreshed, skin glowing. You couldn’t wait for that to be you; sunkissed and relaxed from the ocean breeze and too many margaritas.

“Y/n?” She asked, and you nodded.

“Welcome! I’m Vanessa, I hope that your trip went well?”

“Oh yea, it was awesome, thank you!”

“No problem, congratulations on winning! So before we go off to the fun stuff, we have a brief interview and a few more things to go over, and then I’ll give you a tour of the island and show you to your place. If you’ll follow me?”

Vanessa led the way to a golf cart and you climbed on, your luggage secured in the back seat of the cart. She turned the key, and you were speeding off towards a large house. It was painted white with accents of brick, and green ivy climbing lattices. The windows were large and beautiful, and you felt like you had seen them somewhere before. Like they were in a magazine or some type of professional photos or something. You shrugged off the feeling of deja vu, and followed Vanessa into the house.

The windows were open and provided a good amount of sunlight into the entryway, and you tried to take in as much as you could see as Vanessa walked past a staircase and led you towards the back of the house and into a side room. It was an office, with bright white walls and a large sturdy desk. A bookshelf was the entire wall behind the desk, where she now sat at. 

She gestured to the plush chair in front of her desk and you sat down, suddenly nervous. For such a large house, it was pretty quiet, and you wondered where all the other people were. Was this actually all an elaborate trick to sell you into sex trafficking and you were brought here to die?!

You calmed your thoughts once you heard laughter from somewhere above you, and music playing lightly from another area of the house.

“So, once again, welcome! I am the deputy mayor here, and basically in charge of getting you all settled. We are a formal nation, Bangtania, with a president, a whole government system, and we’re working on expanding the businesses here. Before I can reveal anything more to you, I do need to have you sign the Non-Disclosure Agreement here in person. I know that I sent it to you via email for you to read and electronically sign, but I like to cover all of my bases.”

Like clockwork, another woman walked into the open office door, carrying a glass of wine and some papers. She took a sip and handed the papers to Vanessa, who thanked her as she headed back out of the room. The woman blew a kiss and disappeared around the corner.

“That’s my best friend, Talia, and definitely the reason that all of this was even put into motion,” Vanessa said as she shuffled the papers before straightening them gently by tapping the edges on the desk. She stapled the corner, binding the papers together, and passed it over to you.

“I know you read over most of this, but I want to reiterate a few points anyways. From the moment you leave this office, you are not to share with anyone about the other people on this island. When you first applied to the giveaway sweepstakes, you gave us your social media handles. While we won’t take away social media from you, your posts will be monitored for identifying certain people who wish to remain anonymous while here. Please always ask anyone before posting and triple check photos as well.”

She points to a section and you initial, stating you understand.

“You have a two week period here to see how you like it. You don’t have to stay if you do not want to. After that time, you will be issued a passport for Bangtania, a resident ID, and be included in our census. You will have dual citizenship for here and for your home country as well.”

“If you choose to leave within the 2 week window, it’s no charge. If you choose to leave after, you will have to fund your flight home yourself. We will pay for your boat ride back to the mainland, and from there you can negotiate work or if you have money saved just in case, you can fly out. Also, if you choose to stay, you can always fly out to visit friends and family, just remember the NDA is always in affect.”

You initialed again.

Vanessa led you through a few more sections of the contract, and you learned that a few of the girls on the island were nurses and so if you were sick or needed minor medical attention, they would help you. Everything else was pretty much provided to you, and all they asked was that they could use your skills in return. 

You weren’t surprised they knew you had skills with computers and answering phones, which made you a perfect candidate to work in the main house under Vanessa doing secretarial work for her best friend, Talia. It wouldn’t be a lot of work, you would have plenty of time to enjoy the beach and rest, and the work would be related to the giveaway, running the island, and other fun BTS related things, so you were excited.

Signing your last signature on the bottom of the last page, Vanessa took the document, notarized it, and put it away in a locked filing cabinet next to her desk.

“Now, if you’re ready, I’d love to give you a tour of the island and show you where you’ll be staying.”

After seeing the main areas that people hung out at, you went towards what looked like a restaurant, which was good because you were hungry. Vanessa parked the golf cart next to a few others, and she held the door open for you.

You almost fainted. Seated at the table right when you walked in was none other than the 7 boys that were the reason you lived. BTS. Namjoon, Jimin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jungkook were sat at the table, and as you looked around, you saw that in between them sat other girls, including mutuals you knew were living here. Hobi appeared from swinging doors that led to what you assumed was the kitchen, delivering plates of food from a platter as a few girls followed him as well with drinks.

“C’mon Y/N, don’t be shy. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Vanessa laughed, taking in your shocked expression.

After eating, and sharing some conversation with Jin and Yoongi, you were ready for a nap. Jin was an exceptional cook, and you were full to the brim. Vanessa waved bye to everyone, a lingering hand on a certain male’s shoulder as she walked away, leading you back outside. As you sat back on the leather seat of the cart, she checked in with you.

“I’m definitely still in shock, but now I understand the NDA a lot more.” You chuckled as she drove you towards another house. It was just as big as the main house, as you heard several people call it, but the style was more relaxed and upon entering it, you realized it was because it was lived in. It was two stories, with a large open concept downstairs with a living room and kitchen, and rooms upstairs. You dragged your suitcase up the flight and Vanessa unlocked a room for you with a key before handing it to you.

“This is our newcomer guest room. We will have a room ready for you after your 2 weeks are up, if you decide to stay. For now, most people have said staying with me and Talia has been helpful if they had questions or needed anything, but any of the girls will help you, everyone is super nice.”

You looked around the room; it was spacious with a nice big bay window that allowed a decent amount of sunlight in.

“I’ll leave you to get settled in. Feel free to explore some more, and tomorrow we will have our weekly game night so you can meet everyone in a more relaxed setting and have fun. It’s our way of welcoming you to Bangtania.”

Vanessa let herself out of the room, closing the door softly. You wanted to explore, but at the moment the bed was calling to you. You lay down in the spot where the sun was pooling, curling yourself into the warmth and passed out. Jet Lag was a bitch.

When you finally rejoined the waking world, it was definitely not waking hours. The sun had set, and you shiver, the ocean breeze now too cool in your bedroom. You get up, throwing a MOTS tour hoodie on, and climb back in the bed, attempting to go back to sleep. Tossing and turning for about 15 minutes, sleep evades you. You must have caught up on all of your missing sleep with that ‘nap’ you took. Like you said, Jet lag is a bitch. Not wanting to continue to lay there restless, you slip out of the room and down the stairs.

You walk along the road, past other houses, finding yourself walking into sand. Sitting on the beach, enjoying the sound of the waves, you finally begin to feel tired. Rather than fall asleep on the beach, you make your way back to the house.

You head up the stairs and start down the hall, being as quiet as possible since it’s late and everyone is asleep. At least you assume they are all asleep, until you hear a very familiar voice coming from Vanessa’s room.

“Come here Princess, why are you acting this way?” You step closer to the door that is slightly ajar. You can’t believe what you are seeing, but you can’t stop watching either.

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine & mrsparkjimin18 2020-2021. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the positive feedback on last week’s double update!  I’d love to hear how you’re enjoying it and any canon questions you may have even though it’s very early into the story still!

September 13th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was absolutely fucking bricking it.  

These were the things she knew as an absolute certainty: William Nylander – she had learned his full name – was a Toronto Maple Leaf.  She had hooked up with him in June one week after her graduation from university.  He’d gone back to Sweden for the summer to be with his family.  Now he was back in Toronto because he played for the Toronto Maple Leafs.  And now, she worked as the executive assistant to the president of the Toronto Maple Leafs.

She had no clue how she got herself into this situation, no clue what she was going to do in this situation, and no clue how she was going to get out of this situation.

She was going to have to see him practically every fucking day.

Aberdeen knew she couldn’t let this get the best of her, her mind, or her emotions.  She was brought on board to do a job, and she was going to do that job to the best of her abilities.  No bullshit, no problem.  William wasn’t going to stand in her way of doing well and doing her job for Mr. Shanahan.  Regardless of how blue his eyes were.  Regardless of how blonde his hair was.  Regardless of how cute he looked.  Regardless of how hot he looked in a suit.  Regardless of how every time she looked at him, she began to remember how his hands felt on her hips and how his lips felts on her bare skin…

No.  Stop it.

By the end of the week, she’d met the entire team – Mr. Shanahan had ushered her into the locker room to introduce her to everyone and she waved shyly at all of them before they gave her polite nods and waves of their own.  She wondered if any of them recognized her from when she accidentally walked in on all of them topless and in their underwear.  They probably did.  Nobody recovered from something like that.  Throughout the week, many of them saw her in the hallways and came up to introduce themselves personally.  She thought that was nice.  Sometimes, she’d see William hanging out in the background, waiting for his teammate, but staring directly at her.  

Now came her first trip, one that she found out about on Wednesday – she was going to St. John’s, Newfoundland.  She was lucky Kasha was one of her best friends and agreed to watch and feed Minerva because she’d be gone for six days.  Leaving on Friday, coming back late Wednesday night, after the exhibition game in Ottawa.  It would be interesting, that’s for sure.  She’d never been to Newfoundland.

Lou drove her and Mr. Shanahan to Pearson Airport (Kyle Dubas had to stay back to negotiate a contract and sign someone, but he’d be there eventually too), where she was led to a private hangar.  Most of the team was already there, and a bunch of people Aberdeen didn’t recognize.  She noticed William in the crowd already staring at her as she walked in, a beanie lazily placed on top of his head.  He was sitting beside Kasperi, who was trying to show William something on his phone.  She tried to look away, but couldn’t.

“That’s media,” Brendan told her, finally breaking her concentration.  “They travel with us on road trips.”

“But this is only the start of training camp…” Aberdeen said, not quite understanding why they were already here if the season hadn’t even started yet.

Brendan chuckled from beside her.  “You’ve got a lot to learn about the sports media in Toronto…especially for the Leafs,” he commented.  

“Sorry,” she apologized for no good reason.

“That’s okay.  You’ve got a lot of time to learn.”

When everybody began to board, she began to gather all of the things she’d taken out of her bag while they waited.  She almost jumped out of her skin when somebody behind her asked, “Do you need help carrying your bag?”

She spun around and saw William behind her, watching her as she stuffed everything into her bag.  “No,” she said, turning back around because she couldn’t look at him.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“There’s an entire team of big burley hockey players ready to help.”

“No thank you,” she said again, zipping it up and walking away.  

On the private jet, she learned about the seating hierarchy.  The team got the back of the plane; media and other team personnel at the front.  She learned that the seats were giant, only two to a row, and she got her own row – a window seat right behind Mr. Shanahan.  She learned about the impeccable catering on board and the menu provided for them.  She learned that everybody was more relaxed on the charter flight – even the team, as they let loose and began to play cards, loosening their ties and taking off their suit jackets.  

She learned that every time she stood up or looked behind her, William was almost always already looking at her.  

***

September 14th, 2019

Practices were not usually watched by the general public, but because NHL hockey came to Newfoundland so rarely, tickets were sold to watch the Toronto Maple Leafs practice.  The arena was full, and before the boys stepped out onto the ice, Aberdeen had to coordinate Mr. Shanahan completing some media interviews for local news stations before they were able to retire from that and actually watch the practice.  They sat together, looking out onto the rink as Aberdeen had her iPad in her lap to co-ordinate a few more media interviews after the practice was done.  

“Sir, can I ask you a question?” she asked.  

“Brendan,” her corrected her.  She still felt uncomfortable about calling him that, so she wasn’t going to.  “Shoot.”

“The drill they’re doing right now.  What’s it called?”

Brendan looked at her briefly, smiling slightly.  “It’s to practice backchecking.”

She nodded her head.  “What’s a backcheck?” she asked, feeling stupid.  All of these terms were like a foreign language to her.  She didn’t know how people spoke using these words in coherent sentences.

“Backchecking is when the other team has the puck, and we need to rush back to the defensive zone to stop their attack,” Brendan explained.

“So…it’s trying to stop the other team from scoring.”

Brendan smiled again, wider this time.  “You’re learning.”

“I figured I should learn about the sport I’m going to be surrounded by,” she shrugged her shoulders.  “So that must mean the forecheck is attacking…trying to score.”

“Exactly.”

“Who are our best goal scorers?”

Brendan considered her question.  He knew he could answer it in many different ways.  “Well, if we’re talking about pure numbers, John Tavares – last season he scored forty-seven goals.  Anything above fifty is, like, at the super-elite level.  But then there’s Auston Matthews – he’s probably the most elite pure goal-scorer in the league, save for Connor McDavid.  Thirty-seven goals last season.  Mitchy scored twenty-six.  And then there’s the other guys – Kasperi, Andreas, and Zach all scored twenty last season.  Morgan Rielly, our best defenseman – he even scored twenty last season.  He was a monster.  Didn’t get nominated for the Norris, stupidly, but a monster nonetheless.  And William Nylander – elite goal scorer too.  His numbers last year don’t reflect that because he only played a half a season, but he’s as elite as the rest of them.”

At the mention of William’s name, Aberdeen shifted uncomfortably.  She tried not to pay attention to anything he said about William because it would just lead her to the memories, and then she’d be done for.  “So we’re a good team,” she inferred from what Brendan was telling her.  

Brendan chuckled this time.  “You could say that.”

When the practice was over, she organized for Mr. Shanahan to do more media.  Everybody was eating him up.  He gave great soundbites, talked about the hockey scene in Newfoundland, and about the Leafs practice.  He, of course, picked up on things during practice Aberdeen didn’t even notice.  The reporters ate it up like they couldn’t get enough.  And when Mr. Shanahan was finished, they waited somewhat impatiently for the players.  

Hockey clearly meant a lot to everyone around her.  It was what drove them, what sustained them, and what they were passionate about beyond everything else.  She had to make sure she kept up with their intensity, or else she felt like everything that the success of her in her job depended on may crumble.

***

When the day was done, the team, management, and media retreated back to the hotel.  It was around 6pm, and there were a lot of people in the lobby, figuring out their next steps.  As Aberdeen walked through the doors with Mr. Shanahan, she saw everybody congregating in their groups.  Some of the players had already changed out of their workout gear and into casual clothes, obviously ready to go out for a bite to eat.  She hoped that the hotel had room service, because she knew exactly what she’d be doing for the rest of the night.

“Aberdeen, do you have plans tonight?” Brendan asked suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“No sir.  Just room service for dinner and—”

“Oh, Aberdeen!” he cut her off, his tone almost scolding.  “You’re twenty-one years old and you’re in St. John’s.  You can’t stay in and order room service.”

Easy for him to say.  “Well—”

“Do you want to come to dinner with me and some of the hockey ops guys?” he asked politely.  She knew he was just doing this to be exactly that – polite.  There was no way he would want to hang out with his executive assistant outside of work hours.  

“I’m fine.  It’s okay—”

“Hey Brendan,” they suddenly heard a voice.  They turned their heads to see Jason Spezza approaching them.  He was dressed much better than most of the other guys, and Aberdeen attributed that to the fact that he was older.  “We were wondering if we could take Aberdeen out to dinner to show her around St. John’s.”

She looked behind Jason to see Kasperi, John, Morgan, and William.  Her eyes bulged out of her head.  “Oh, thank you for the offer, but it’s okay—”

“What a great idea!” Brendan exclaimed at the same time, turning at her and smiling.  “You got out of dinner with us old bozos!”

“No no no—”

“Have fun!” Brendan said as he began walking away, joining another group of men and slapping one of them on the back.

Aberdeen looked up at Jason.  Her cheeks flushed red with anxiety at the prospect of spending hours with them.  “You need to calm down,” Jason told her.  “We’re just guys.”

“You’re the Toronto Maple Leafs,” she stressed, trying not to meet William’s eye.

“So?” he shrugged his shoulders.  “We’re just trying to be nice, Aberdeen.  I don’t want to see you all alone when everyone else on the team is going to be out having fun.”

“Why not?”

Jason shrugged his shoulders.  “Because you’re part of the team now.”

Aberdeen considered the words coming out of Jason’s mouth.  It hadn’t even been a week since her first day, since she walked in on everyone in their underwear, and already she was “part of the team” and invited to go out to dinners with them.  She didn’t understand.  Why were they being so nice?  She was a nobody – to them, to the organization, to the world.  She was only a personal assistant.  “But—”

“Aberdeen, the more the argue this, the more you’re going to have to hear my voice telling you to come,” Jason said.  “Are you really going to make me beg?”

His damn puppy dog eyes were the only, and she means the only reason she gave in.

***

Auston Matthews and Frederik Andersen joined the group before they left to walk along Water Street, eventually choosing a fresh seafood restaurant to have dinner in (because why go to St. John’s and not get fresh caught seafood?).  Aberdeen walked alongside Jason making small talk with him, with Auston, Fred, Morgan, and John ahead of them and William and Kasperi behind them.  Once they were seated at the restaurant, she found herself sandwiched between Jason and Morgan.  William was right across from her.  

“So where are you from, Aberdeen?” John asked as everyone finished giving their order to the waiter.  

“I was born and raised in Toronto.  Etobicoke, actually,” she said.  “Royal York and Bloor.  But south of Bloor – not the Kingsway.  Nobody can afford to live in the Kingsway.  Well – you guys can,” she rambled, finally stopping to take a sip of her water.

“Any siblings?” Morgan asked.

“My older sister Siena is 23.  She’s at the University of Ottawa for law school.  Then there’s the baby Camden.  He just turned eleven this summer.”

“That’s quite the spread,” Kasperi commented.  She could see William side-eye him, not appreciating the comment.  It was a fair comment, but Aberdeen hated when people made it.  Yes, there was a huge gap between them.  So what?  Lots of families had huge gaps between siblings.  Hers was not unique.  

“He was definitely an oops baby, if that’s what you mean,” she deadpanned, looking right at him.

“Oh no no no – I didn’t mean it like that at all—” he tried to cover himself.

“Dude, there’s ten years between Daniella and I,” William quipped.

“Yeah but there’s three other kids in between you guys—”

“Will you two just be quiet?  God you’re like Tweedledee and Tweedledum,” Morgan said.  “Ignore them, Aberdeen.  What do your parents do?”

“My mom is an elementary school teacher and my dad is a mailman with Canada Post.”

“And who’s your favourite Toronto Maple Leaf?” William asked, taking his own sip from his drink.  The way he was looking at her would make any girl’s head spin, and it made Aberdeen’s spin for a split second before she remembered that she was at a table full of men who happened to be his teammates and who would most definitely notice any suspicious behaviour on her part.  

“Not any of you,” she said in a playful tone, causing the whole table to ooh and aww and clutch their hearts.  

“Really?  Even when we’re buying you dinner?” William continued.

“You’re going to need to do more than that,” she smiled.

“You mean buy you a drink?  You like vodka-based stuff?”

Aberdeen’s face dropped.  Vodka was the main alcohol in all the cucumber mules she drank when she met him at King Taps.  Drinking all those cucumber mules was the reason she let all her inhibitions go and brought him back to her place to sleep with him.  Well that, and his personality.  And his eyes.  And his hair.  And his body.  And his – snap out of it!  “I’m more of a gin girl myself,” she said, bringing her class of water to her lips again.

“Could have fooled me,” he quipped.

Morgan brought the conversation back to hockey – why they were all there.  The boys let her in on a few traditions and the etiquette around the arena, especially on game days.  When she asked about all the media on the trip and why they were they everybody let out a collective groan and explained to her how hounding the media was in Toronto.  When the food came the talk died down a bit but John began explaining to her the rivalries, the divisions, the conferences, who the Leafs liked and didn’t like, teams to watch out for as well as teams with friends on them.  Their good friend Tyler Ennis, who just played on the Leafs last year was now in Ottawa, and they’d be seeing him at the season opener.  Aberdeen wished she had a notebook where she could write this all down.  Jason explained how excited he was for the season opener – how he got some tickets for his extended family and friends to see him play.  Auston explained how his parents would be flying in from Arizona.  It was all very nice to hear.

Jason ended up paying for her meal even though she fought him on it.  When they decided to leave, the owner of the restaurant came out to shake hands with all of them and asked for a picture.  They obliged, and the owner was over the moon.  He said he was going to blow up the picture, frame it, and put it right at the entrance.  That’s when Aberdeen understood how hockey crazed some people could be.  

Instead of going directly back to the hotel, Morgan persuaded everyone to take a walk down by the harbour.  He used the map on his phone to guide them, and Aberdeen would unintentionally hold the group up by taking pictures of all the old and colourful buildings.  She couldn’t help it – if traveling was going to be a perk of the job, then she was going to enjoy it as much as possible.  

The harbour was beautiful, even though it was dark, and she made a mental note to come back if she had any free time when it was light out.  She also wanted to climb Signal Hill.  She took out her phone and clutched it in her hands shyly, looking at the guys talking amongst one another.  “Um…can someone take a picture of me?”

Jason, of course, was the only one who heard her.  “Give me your phone,” he extended his hand, and she gave it to him as she went to pose along the guardrail.  He took a few photos, and even turned on the flash.  All the guys watched on, and Aberdeen felt a bit awkward.  Apparently, Jason sensed it.  “Can we make it look like she has friends?” he announced to the guys, causing them all to laugh.  “Jesus fuck, guys.  Go pose with her.”

They all surrounded her, throwing their arms over each other.  Auston draped his arm over her shoulder.  Fred’s extended all the way to her shoulders too, despite being a two people away from her.

William’s was the only arm around her waist.  

***

September 17th, 2019

“You could have said I was your favourite the other night,” a voice Aberdeen could only place as William’s said as she was looking down at her iPad.  Everybody was in Mile One Stadium for the game, and the arena was already full with eager fans.  

She didn’t even know how he found her.  Wasn’t he supposed to be getting ready?  How did he have the time to bother her and be a menace?  “But you’re not my favourite.”

“Ouch, Aberdeen,” he put his hand over his heart like the rest of the guys had done that night at dinner.  

“Well you’re not,” she reiterated.

“Then let me rephrase the question,” he started, “You could have said I was fucking awesome.”

Aberdeen’s face dropped again.  Yet again, those were the words she had used after they’d finished having sex.  She blurted them out, but he agreed.  God, to think that it stroked his ego for months and he still remembered months after the fact.  “What are you trying to do here?” she asked him.

“When we met in June you kept talking and talking and I let you because I love the sound of your voice,” he said.  Her heart stopped beating momentarily.  She was hyperaware of the present tense use of ‘love’ and not ‘loved’ in his sentence.  “I’m just trying to talk to you.”

She shook any thought about that night or about “I love hearing you talk” out of her head as she got up.  This was all a game to William – that much she figured.  Why else would he find her?  Why else would he repeat her words back at her and taunt her with them?  Why else would he offer to buy her a drink in front of six of his teammates?  She didn’t know if he was telling the truth, if he was just taunting her, or…God, what if he wanted to hook up again?  Was he really that kind of guy that he was doing all this again to somehow seduce her?  A fun little romp with the office girl so he could show off to all his buddies?  Regardless of what it was, Aberdeen knew this was dangerous, extremely dangerous.  It was a game she wasn’t willing to play when so much was on the line for her personally and professionally.  

“Well, don’t,” she huffed, staring at him.  “This isn’t a game and I’m not a pawn.  I’m here to work and do a good job.  I’m most definitely not here to keep you entertained,” she said, walking away from him.  

***

September 18th, 2019

The Toronto Maple Leafs lost both exhibition games to Ottawa, but it didn’t really matter because they were just that – exhibition games.  Mr. Shanahan was still peeved that they lost, but he took it in stride.  When their charter plane finally landed in Toronto at around 11:45 at night on Wednesday, Aberdeen was ready for bed.  All she wanted to do was cuddle Minerva and sleep for twelve hours.  She was especially excited to have the day off tomorrow.  She could at least do laundry.  

When they were free to get her luggage, the tag-team of Tyson Barrie and Jason Spezza made sure they got her bag for her.  Mr. Shanahan had already left – he was the first one off the flight – because his son was picking him up, and he didn’t want him waiting and getting a ticket.  

“Aberdeen, do you have a ride?  Is somebody picking you up?” John asked, extending the handle on his luggage.  From behind him, she noticed William lurking and waiting for her answer.

“Nah, I’m good.  I’m just hopping on the UP,” she waved him off.  She would have to ask an airport employee where to get the UP Express.

“What?  No way,” John shook his head.

“No no no,” said William from behind him, shaking his head.

“No no no,” said Travis who was standing by her, shaking his head.

“No no no,” said Tyson who was also standing by her, shaking his head.

“No,” John repeated.  You would think she said she was going to walk the entire way home instead of take public transit.  “You live downtown, right?  That’s what you said at dinner?” he asked, but didn’t even wait for her to respond.  “Who’s going downtown and can drop off Aberdeen?” John asked loudly so everyone could hear.

“It’s fine, it’s really fine—” she tried to intervene.

“Bee’s coming to pick me up – we can drop Aberdeen off no problem,” Morgan offered.  

“I’ve got Saylor picking me up,” Kasperi offered.

“Morgan will do it,” John said quickly.  

Aberdeen looked over at Morgan.  “You really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” he extended the handle on his luggage.  “Follow me.”

He led her out of the private hangar towards a black Honda Civic.  Aberdeen watched as a girl got out of the car.  She was unconventionally pretty, with beautiful long hair.  She wore comfy looking oversized cardigan and plain black tights.  She only assumed this was Morgan’s girlfriend.  When they got close, Morgan kissed her.  “I volunteered to drive Aberdeen home,” he said, nodding back towards her.

Bee looked at her.  “Great!  Hop in.  Just put your luggage in the backseat – I don’t mind,” she said, turning and getting into the passenger’s seat.  Morgan opened the trunk to put his bigger suitcase in before returning to the driver’s seat.  Aberdeen had a grip on her luggage.  

“So what position do you have with the Leafs, Aberdeen?” Bee asked from the passenger’s seat, even shifting so she was actually able to look at her.

“I’m Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.”

“Oh, that’s so cool!” Bee smiled.  “Brendan’s awesome.  But I’m sure you’re realizing that.  God, I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders.  “I guess.  I didn’t really uh, you know, watch hockey before this.”

“I didn’t either, until I met Morgan,” Bee said.  “Don’t worry.  It has its way of sucking you in.  There’s a certain magic to the game that you can’t get away from.  You just have to make sure you keep your head above water.”

“Right.”

“Where do you live, Aberdeen?” Morgan asked, looking at her through the rear-view mirror.  

“Oh!  I’m on Nelson Street.  It’s near University and Adelaide.”

Bee punched the address Aberdeen gave into her phone.  “You let us know whenever you need a ride back into the city from the airport, okay?  You’re not that far from us.”

“Um, thank you,” she said as she felt Morgan put the car into drive.

“No problem at all, Aberdeen.  Love your name by the way.”

They made small talk throughout the ride, and thankfully, because it was so late, the roads were clear.  In just less than twenty minutes, Aberdeen was home.  She thanked Morgan and Bee profusely before leaving.  Bee watched her go in as Morgan texted on his phone.

“Who are you texting at this hour of the night?” she asked.

“Willy,” he said absent-mindedly.  “Wants to make sure we got home okay.”

Bee furrowed her brows.  “He’s never texted us about that before.”

Morgan shrugged.  “Whatever.”

[slash-em-up]

I Was (Not) Born To Be A Cowboy Pt. 1

NEW MESSAGE IN METALSPIDER GROUPCHAT

J: SOS SOS SOS HELP COME SAVE ME

You looked at Asa with a confused and worried expression as you both pulled your attention away from your movie to check Jesse’s message.

Your boyfriend had been drawn away to parts unknown at Spanns prompting that he engage in some ‘actual business’ in order to maintain his cover of respectability.

Which apparently had gone south pretty damn quick.

Asa sighed through his nose, pausing the movie and quickly pressing the button to begin a video chat with your erstwhile partner.

The connection was… not good. But it was enough to see the frantic expression on Jesse’s face and the – quite frankly- extreme amount of layers he was bundled in.

“Hey Jesse… where are you? Are you ok?”

The signing back was choppy but mostly understandable.

‘NO!.... Spann… oil… MONTANA!! IN WINTER!!.... fucking…. COWS!!... COME!!... HELP!!’

The video cut out.  

Asa’s eyes met yours.  

“Well, that sounded interesting.”

The large man snorted at your tone.

“I think we’re rubbing off on you. Finally.”

Your rebuttal was cut short by your phone dinging. Jesse had forwarded you two plane tickets, leaving tomorrow morning, for Bozeman.  

Asa pulled your phone towards him, staring down at the screen.  

“… It appears we’re going to Montana…”

He stood from the couch, extending a hand to help you to your feet.  

“Pack warmly.”

---------------------------------------------

Even in his panic, Jesse had sent over first class tickets – personally, you doubted he knew how to buy any other – and the flight over was more than pleasant.  

Asa and you had enjoyed a bottle of champagne together, and you were definitely stealing the blanket the flight attendant had provided – you were pretty sure it was cashmere. Asa rolled his eyes at you before proceeding to stuff his own blanket into his carry-on; refusing to meet your triumphant gaze.

Bozeman was chilly in the winter; but nothing you hadn’t grown accustom to in Illinois. Stepping out of the airport, Asa pulled you in the direction of a local-looking man holding a sign that read ‘Y/N and Dr. Emory’.

“Well, now we know it’s really serious…” Asa muttered into your ear.

“Jesse didn’t make reference to my ass at all on the card.”

You laughed, approaching your flannel-clad chauffeur.  

“I know, right? Is he dying??”

Your driver grinned widely at you as you stuck out your hand to pump his own enthusiastically.

“Well hey there ma’am! I’m Brody, here to bring y’all to Mr. Ephriam’s ranch to meet up with Mr. Jesse!”

You grinned, immediately liking Brody, while Asa moved forward to grill the ranch-hand.

“Is there an issue at the… ranch… that we should be aware of?”

Brody quieted under Asa’s intense gaze.  

“No sir. In my opinion, sir, Mr. Jesse just ain’t used to ranch life, an’, well, Mr. Ephriam’s pretty traditional... He wants to know a man before he does business with him.”

You breathed heavily.

“… Well shit.”

Asa hummed in acknowledgement.

“Let’s get going, then.”

------------------------------------------------------

An hour into the drive and you hadn’t seen a single building, let alone another car. You were beginning to realize why Jesse was panicking

“… anywho, Miss Spann seems to be settlin’ right in to our routine; but like I was sayin’ Mr. Jesse’s havin’ a… uh… tough time adjustin’…”

“And what did you say Mr. Ephriam’s capital was in?”

Asa was seated in the back, but was leaning forward as he engaged Brody in terse conversation. You could tell he was highly interested in anything that would throw your partner so far off his game as to beg for your help.

“Capit – Oh! You mean where Mr. Ephriam got all his dough from. Well that’s be the oil drillin’.”

Ah. That made more sense.  

You glanced back and caught Asa’s eye. Jesse was probably going to get an earful from your entomologist boyfriend about destroying natural ecosystems. People were expendable – nature? Not so much. 

Asa was complicated like that.

“Soon as we get to the house we’ll settle you two into your bunks and get you fitted with a couple of horses and tack. We don’t do much with motor-vehicles around the ranch since they’re like to scare the cattle.”

You blanched.

“Uh… does that come with riding lessons too, because otherwise I think I’ll be walking…”

You felt Asa grasp your elbow and lean towards you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

“How the fuck do you know how to ride a horse?!”

Asa looked nonplussed at your shocked gaze.

“I did my doctoral field work in a very remote area of South America. All we had were donkeys and horses.”

“Why Doctor Emory, you are just a trunk full of secrets and interesting tid-bits, aren’t you?”

You fluttered your eyelashes at Asa, who huffed and leaned back into the uncomfortable truck seat.

“Are we there yet?”

You let out a loud guffaw of laughter at Asa’s pouting.

Brody let out a chipper “Nearly, Doc!” which almost sent you into another fit of giggles as Asa grimaced in annoyance.

It wasn’t long after when you pulled up a long drive-way and arrived at an attractive ranch-style lodge.

You shivered as Asa opened your door for you – the chill of the winter air quickly eking away the warmth that the old heater and three bodies had accumulated in the truck.

“It’s colder at home. And there’s snow.” Asa pointed out with a raised eyebrow.

You pulled your coat tighter and leaned in towards his larger frame, hoping to coax him into wrapping an arm around you.

He did not oblige.  

“That doesn’t mean I’m less chilly...” you scowled.

A small chuckle escaped the man at your side as he grasped both of your duffle-bags in a strong grip and motioned for you to follow Brody as he led you past the main house towards a row of smaller cabins.

“I hope ya don’t mind; we set you up in Mr. Jesse’s cabin – he said ya’ll would want to be nearby and the cabins’ll bunk six... Miss Spann is in the cabin next to yours if ya wanna get split a bit more evenly.”

“No, this is fine...” you replied, unsure how much detail Jesse had given as to the nature of your relationship.

The cabin was... quaint...

You saw Asa pause momentarily as he stepped onto the wooden porch only for it to creak ominously under his weight.  

The screen door was desperately in need of repairs and the paint on the thin door was peeling at all four corners.

… And this was the VIP guest cabin, huh? Jeeze.

A gust of wind rattled the windows and the door literally bent inward as you were blown towards it.

You tapped tentatively, unsure if there would even be anyone inside to answer.

The door nearly knocked you off your feet as it flew open, causing you to yelp and lean back into Asa’s chest.

A 6’7” pile of blankets shivered in the doorway; a single brown eye poking ever so slightly out from beneath a knit beanie.

‘Thank FUCK you’re both here! These ranch-hand bastards are trying to kill me!’

Asa sighed deeply.

“Hello Jesse...”

To Be Continued...

[readytoplaygod]

83 & 150 :D

83. Radioactive veggies, I eated them, now I have a super power and what is it? (I'm paraphrasing)

I think about this a lot, and honestly probably teleportation. I mean like the Jumper type of teleportation where I can just sort of see a place and then be there. I haven't been able to travel a lot in my life so far and this would also give me a chance to see some friends that I haven't met yet in person (you know who you are).

150. Lottery win? (also paraphrasing)

Well first I'd figure out what the tax deduction is so that I'd have a realistic idea on the actual amount of money I have available. Beyond this, I'd probably want to pay off the debts of some immediate family members and close friends. I'd then help buy houses for my parents and brothers, and obviously help pay off the mortgage for my boo since we'll be moving into a house soon. Assuming this is a fuck ton of money, I'd also get my brothers cars so that they can have more independence, job opportunities, and experiences available to them. I'd get @glumfacade and @inlove-with-a-spine plane tickets to go visit friends and family back home. I may also setup a scholarship program for underprivileged students through a nonprofit. I wouldn't want to pigeon hole a student into a specific school, so the donor intent would include flexibility in allowing the funding to follow the student to whichever school they go to without any specifications on major, thought it would likely require a minimum GPA of 2.0 or above to set expectations while providing a chance to succeed with low risk. Hopefully, the gift could also be set up in a manner that accrues annual interest or income so that the program could continue beyond the initial offer, though an estate may need to be setup to better guarantee that. The rest would probably also go to charities and resources like Planned Parenthood. Ngl, I'd probably also by myself a new PS5 if a Miles Morales theme is available, as a treat.

[codevassie]

5 Awesome APH Fics

[***Let me know if I’ve missed anything on the Content Warnings!]

[**Do Not Ask Authors for Updates!]

[*Leave these authors Comments, please and thank you!]

Burn the White Flag by CoffeeJay

Status: Completed on Ao3

Summary: With Italy gone and the key to their escape nowhere in sight, those left in the mansion struggle to hold onto hope as they search for freedom from the mysterious creatures that hunt them.

Relationships: HRE/Italy, GerIta

CW: Memory Loss, Alcohol, Hallucinations, Blood and Violence, Psychological Trauma, Horror, Existential Angst, Major Character Death (Temporary)

My thoughts: I’d recommend watching/playing HetaOni before reading this one, since it’s a continuation of it and all. So, I don’t read a lot continuations like this, I will say. HetaOni is already such an iconic story that I’m afraid to dilute the experience. We’re not going to get a part two for the game, and I’m fine with that. I’d rather have experienced part one without part two than never have had part one at all. Getting to experience part one was sick as fuck. But I had recently replayed the game and, for once, was looking for something more than my own contemplation over what might have happened (the use of many types of fics). So I found this one, and WOW I was blown away. I could not put it down until I was finished. It was so emotional, and included the threads from the game into a very clever speculation on what the heck might have been the rest of their story. It took all the characters into consideration, and considered the trauma of the mansion. If you love HetaOni, check it out!

Magnet by A Winter Dreamer

Status: Completed on FFN

Summary: For life after life, lovers Alfred F. Jones and Arthur Kirkland have been together. From the royalty of Spades to countries and beyond, crossing universes, Alfred and Arthur have always been together. But a century ago, Alfred made a mistake, and Arthur paid for it. A century ago, their souls diverged for the first time. And now, Arthur must face the demon Alfred has become.

Relationships: USUK

CW: Death, Murder, Blood and Violence, Demons, Imprisonment, Alcohol, Non-consensual Kiss, Torture, Toxic Possessiveness/Jealousy, Homophobia, Suicide, Vomiting Mention, Unhealthy Dynamics, PTSD, Panic Attacks

My thoughts: Y’all are gonna think I’m really fucked up for recommending this one. It’s dark. And their relationship is... a bit... unhealthy for a good part of it. But it’s impossible to put down when you’re reading it and it’s an excellent story. I always love a story that leaves me with question after question because it provides excellent tension and engagement. And there is Character Development, y’all. If there wasn’t, it’d be way more concerning that I like it haha, but the characters learn and grow and I love that stuff. It makes you think about second chances and the extent to which someone deserves one and how that varies with different people. Everything about this is just very interesting and makes you think. And also want to cry. Beautiful story!

Tesoro Mio by Spinyfruit

Status: Completed on FFN

Summary: Antonio's the charming, handsome farmer with an infuriating Spanish accent, and Lovino is the mysterious wine entrepreneur who comes and goes. When Antonio falls in love, he throws society, expectations, and religion to the wayside, but can a strict Catholic like Lovino do the same?

Relationships: Spamano

CW: Internalized Homophobia, Religious and Sexual themes, References of Child Abuse, Claustrophobia 

My thoughts: The master of Spamano: Spinyfruit. This author writes them so well, with such interesting, heart-wrenching stories. Tesoro Mio takes place largely on a vineyard Lovino’s family owns, and where Antonio works. It’s a beautiful slow burn. Like the type of romance that leaves you giggling and your heart big and then angst swoops in and your clutching the phone tight bc shit you can’t handle this why did you think you could handle this- It’s about falling in love and accepting that love. I don’t know how else to explain it other than... it’s beautiful. 

It’s just going to be you and me by ButterFish

Status: Completed on FFN

Summary: Alfred thinks he's going insane; he keeps dreaming about a green-eyed guy, he hears voices and he keeps finding long, white feathers everywhere. Is the angel Arthur that is haunting his dreams real or is he making it all up? 

Relationships: USUK

CW: Suicide and Suicidal Ideation, Bullying, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Death, Mental Illness, Nightmares, Headaches, Smoking, Hallucinations, Blood and Violence, Guns, Medication Side Effects, Existentialism

My thoughts: I don’t know how to review this one without giving major spoilers. It’s... dark. It’s really difficult to read at times because there is a lot of talk and depiction of death and suicidal ideation. It’s one of my fave fics ever, but it’s super triggering, so Do Not Read It if you’re even a little unsure. It’s super mysterious, leaving you guessing what is going on and what is to come throughout the entire thing. It’s very suspenseful. I’m always on the edge of my seat when I read it, despite knowing what’s going to happen in rereads. It’s just as impactful on a reread as it is during the original. This is one of those fics where you’re screaming the entire way through, and, if you’re not, then you’re in deathly silence. The kind of silence where you feel like the world is going to shatter if you break it. All of Alfred’s thoughts and feelings just feel so real in this fic and it’s captivating. It’s a big time recommendation for me, so, if you think you’re in the right headspace for something dark and stressful, check it out.

Fifty-two by ectodreaming

Status: Completed on FFN

Summary: Lovino, a lowly con-artist, is in love with a police officer. Antonio, a police officer, finds out that he's in love with a con-artist. Will a couple of plane tickets and two-thirds of the Bad Touch Trio help their situation?

Relationships: Spamano

CW: Crime, Alcohol, Smoking

My thoughts: I remember when a friend of mine recommended this fic to me, and it’s been with me for so long that I must recommend it to you! These boys are so sweet on each other, and it’s easy to tell, even when they aren’t in the same room. And that’s crucial to this fic. There is so much longing in this omg. If your heart doesn’t explode by the end then idk what to say. And there’s so many spots in this fic that will make you scream. For various reasons. Like, I’ve reread it a lot and I never stop screaming, even while I know what’s going on. This one’s the shortest on this list, but not necessarily Short. If you want something to occupy your evening, I’d say give this one a go! 

[tisthenightofthewitch]

THE NEXT CHAPTER: TOBIAS FORGE AND THE FUTURE OF GHOST

Their Kerrang! Award-winning fourth album Prequelle took Ghost from cult concern to global superstars. But the arena-filling congregation of fans is growing restless for clues as to what’s next for Cardinal Copia, Papa Nihil and the ministry. Let Tobias Forge, then, take you behind the mask and into the making of – and future plans for – a band like no other…

The WaMu Theater, Thursday 19 September. Last night this venue – attached to the side of CenturyLink Field, the home of the Seattle Seahawks NFL team – played host to the ‘Groover from Vancouver’ himself, Bryan Adams. Tomorrow it’s the turn of the Pacific Northwest city’s beloved sons, grunge legends Alice In Chains, for their last show in support of their sixth album, Rainier Fog. Tonight, though, Seattle gets the latest ritual on Ghost’s extensive Ultimate Tour Named Death.

Despite this morbid moniker, the scene inside the building is one of lively activity, with techs rushing around to finish the show’s elaborate staging. The house lights illuminate the stained glass window backdrop, while the seating, flat on the floor and sweeping upwards towards the back, furthers the illusion we’re in a vast church. Just then, Tobias Forge, the man whose job it is to address tonight’s 5,000-strong congregation appears. Kerrang! doesn’t notice him at first given the ninja-like silence of his approach, but there’s an intensity to his presence in these make-or-break moments of preparation.

“I’m interested in tour production, so I get to know a lot of these things,” he offers matter-of-factly. “I’m sure I only get to know about 40 per cent of it, but I notice if things aren’t in place.”

As a nine-year-old child, Tobias used to watch the documentary 25x5: The Continuing Adventures Of The Rolling Stones on repeat. The film charts the rock legends’ genesis in 1962 and their steep, heady ascent to becoming the biggest band in the world, circa their 1989 album Steel Wheels. Tobias considers their subsequent Bridges To Babylon Tour (1997-1998), which made more than $274 million and became the second-highest grosser of all time, to be the greatest ever piece of rock staging, and he was evidently taking notes even then. As a result of the level of professionalism he aspires to, you get the distinct impression he’s not a man who suffers fools gladly in this setting – an idea he doesn’t go to great pains to dispel.

“I want to know who’s in the shit today,” he explains. “Who has been put in the situation where his or her job is compromised, because I don’t want to start yelling if it’s a case of, ‘Oh my truck didn’t arrive in time today,’ because then I’ll know what the problem is. If you want to be a good boss, it’s very important you keep things on your radar.

“I’ve definitely got into trouble over the years by being too nice to people and giving them too much slack,” he continues, surveying the operation. “When you do that it’s like with dogs: if you don’t tell them what the rules are, they start making up their own. That sounds horrible, but there are 40 people on this tour, so there has to be a line and a curriculum. I’m adamant about getting my vision through, especially now we’re in this transitional phase between theatres and arenas.”

This increase in scale reflects the continued upswing in Ghost’s popularity, which has seen them go from misunderstood cult band to metal superstar status in the space of less than a decade. Despite this success, Tobias clearly isn’t taking anything for granted. Ghost haven’t played Seattle for three years, but this time around they’re doing two shows in Washington State, the other being the one they played at the Toyota Center in Kennewick two days ago, which has a capacity of 6,000 – almost eight per cent of the city’s 80,000 population.

Tobias may or may not be referring to that show when he discusses his unbridled joy at recently playing in an unnamed city that doesn’t get a lot of large-scale entertainment coming through town, save for appearances from KISS, singer-songwriter Pat Benatar and a touring production of the musical Wicked in recent years.

“None of us had ever heard of this place, and I’m pretty good at geography,” he explains. “But I loved being the singular moment somewhere, instead of the seventh show they’d had there on that particular week.”

And while Tobias describes the resulting night as “phenomenal”, earlier in the day there was an “unforeseen curveball” when the company who were meant to be selling merch at the show pulled out at the last minute, citing Ghost’s satanic image for their decision. This was, of course, a throwback to earlier shows, such as one in the Texan city of Odessa in 2018, when a minister attempted to dissuade people from attending because of the band’s threat to the morals of good God-fearing people. Unsurprisingly, this outburst resulted in an increase in ticket sales.

Despite this more recent – and, these days, more unusual – blip, Tobias’ desire to cover as much ground as possible on tour this time around is inspired by his heroes in Iron Maiden and Metallica, who have long provided him with the blueprints for achieving and navigating monumental success. In this case, the lesson he’s putting into practice is that every location Ghost visit, without exception, should be treated the same.

“The most important thing to me on this tour is that we bring the same production to everyone,” he says. “They all get the full-fucking-monty, whether they’re in Sioux Falls [South Dakota] or New York.”

The walls backstage at the WaMu Theater are lined with Seahawks jerseys, personalised with the names of acts that have performed here, including The 1975, Bastille and Nas, and the rockier contingent featuring twenty one pilots, Halestorm and Dropkick Murphys. Various rooms lead off from these labyrinthine corridors, providing sizeable production offices for the band’s tour management and crew, all of who wear dapper black shirts, trousers and braces affixed with silver broaches of Ghost’s upside down cross insignia. They affectionately address Cardinal Copia as ‘Cardi C’ when he appears later for a fan meet-and-greet. Here, too, are the dressing rooms for the headliners and the opening act for this tour, San Antonio rockers Nothing More.

On all of the doors is a distinct A4 page, the day sheet for this show, which not only details what’s happening, where and when, but also includes a different tongue-in-cheek quote for the occasion. Today, for example, in recognition of the touring party travelling overnight to Vancouver for tomorrow’s show at the city’s Pacific Coliseum, we get this gem courtesy of Britney Spears: ‘The cool thing about being famous is travelling. I have always wanted to travel across seas, like to Canada and stuff.’

Tobias, of course, has actually travelled over oceans to be here. Nowadays he lives in Stockholm, the capital of his native Sweden, with his wife and their 11-year-old twins, but he was born in Linköping, the country’s seventh largest city, where the steeple of its 13th century cathedral dominated the skyline. That’s not what the young Tobias was fixating on, though. Instead, aged five, when he already knew he wanted to transform into another person, he’d stand outside his childhood home and gaze down the street. The sun always seemed to be hovering between the buildings at the end, like a fixed but intangible hand beckoning him to get on a plane and go somewhere else and be someone else.

“The days and options seemed limitless,” he recalls today. “For some reason I always thought of the world as being there for the taking, even though I didn’t have any access to that world.”

In spite of this, he felt a deep affinity with his heroes, like the Rolling Stones and Queen, who also came from places you didn’t automatically associate with being breeding grounds for rock gods.

“I felt similar to them, even if they grew up in Dartford [Rolling Stones] or an island off the coast of Africa [Zanzibar, the birthplace of Freddie Mercury]. I, too, felt out of touch with my surroundings, and knew I had a higher calling.”

Twenty-three years later, in 2009, Tobias realised he hadn’t made much headway in heeding this call. He’d been in bands from a young age, from death metallers Repugnant to alt-rockers Magna Carta Cartel. The latter featured Martin Persner and Simon Söderberg, who’d later appear as Nameless Ghouls in the first incarnation of Ghost. Söderberg, along with some other ex-ghouls, is now embroiled in an on-going lawsuit with Tobias over what they suggest are the rightful shares of profits they’re owed from their time in the band. Tobias doesn’t volunteer any information on this topic today, which is perhaps understandable given the considerable column inches already dedicated to it.

Regardless, none of those early bands provided Tobias with the success he needed to, say, quit the day job. He had then been working in a call centre, aiding people having trouble with their mobile phones. Despite spending his childhood endlessly sketching elaborate stage designs and lighting rigs, he still has little interest in technology, particularly mobile phones. Back in 2009 his personal life was happy and satisfying, having welcomed children with his then-girlfriend – now wife – though this potent reminder of the finite time we have drew his attention to the area of his life he recognised as falling short.

“I had an epiphany,” he explains, raising his hands as if sizing up an imaginary canvas. “I found myself very far from the path, so decided in the limited time I have to invest everything in the one thing out of all my [professional] options I believed most in, which was Ghost. I understood wholeheartedly what it was, the music and the image, and felt I could do it without my vanity coming in, because I didn’t like how I looked in pictures or the sound of my own voice. But this would be fiction, so that was fucking cool. So I took all of my eggs and put them in one basket and was back on track. For the first time in my fucking life I was really focused.”

For evidence of the dividends this paid, you need only look at the fact that just a year later, with the release of their 2010 debut album Opus Eponymous, Ghost exploded on to the scene, taking the first step to becoming metal’s hottest new hope.

Further proof of this focus comes today from interviewing Tobias somewhere there’s a screen showing news channel CNN. We’re in the band’s pre-show warm-up space, which is decked out with guitars, keyboards and an electric drum kit he removes the stool from to sit in the centre of the room. He admits if he were in a hotel room now, he could easily watch CNN for 24 hours straight. He doesn’t so much as turn his head to look at it now, though, giving his full attention to the interview at hand.

Even at 38, an age he says his kids consider “as old as shit”, he remains remarkably boyish looking. His dark and piercing eyes, however, belong to an older soul – and it may be Kerrang!’s imagination – but they appear to moisten at several points during this hour-long chat, particularly when connecting the dots between his past ambition and what he’s achieved today.

“I’m trying to recreate a lot of things that aren’t necessarily real,” he says mysteriously. “In my head they’re real, and I’ve been given this fantastic carte blanche where I don’t have to sit in a fucking call centre anymore and am applauded for getting to be someone else. It’s perfect for someone like me who has a fundamental problem with functioning normally in society. If it wasn’t for the fact I was doing this, I would be completely useless.”

When Ghost signed with their American record label, their mythology wasn’t the deep well of fascination it is today. In fact, there was nothing to it at all. They had a unique aesthetic and a sound that didn’t necessarily go with that look, something that would wrong-foot new listeners in the early days, but Tobias didn’t have an answer to why Ghost were the way they were.

“They said the music was great but asked, ‘What’s the story? What’s the biography?’” recalls Tobias. “I said there was no biography because there was no story to tell. I wanted people to throw themselves into the vision and make up their own. But in the end I had to come up with one, which is second nature to me now. Even [Norwegian black metallers] Mayhem had a story. In the early ‘90s, before the internet, there was something that compelled us to want to find out more and listen to their music.”

This mythology Tobias has developed over the years was furthered with the release of Ghost’s fourth album, last year’s GRAMMY-nominated Prequelle, which introduced Tobias’ latest incarnation, Cardinal Copia, a character fans have come to love if the number of $40 plush toys sold at the merch desk tonight is any indication. More recently, a web series on YouTube has added to the intrigue, with the latest episode harking back to 1969, when a young Cardinal Nihil was fronting Ghost at the launch of their EP, Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic. That just so happens to be the band’s latest release in 2019, which will also be available as part of Prequelle Exalted, a limited collector’s edition of the album. Meanwhile, The Ultimate Tour Named Death has introduced the EP’s two new songs, Mary On A Cross and Kiss The Go-Goat, to its set list.

While Ghost’s music has always tipped its papal tiara to the ‘60s, particularly its psychedelic leanings, the latter song in particular sees them take this interest a step further. How much can we glean from them, then, with regards to where Ghost goes next? Not too much, as it turns out, according to Tobias, who suggests, as with the YouTube series, it’s a way to deepen the story of Ghost spanning from the ’40s to the present day, without necessarily providing clues to the sound of album number five.

“It’s just there for shits and giggles,” he laughs, before revealing that Kiss The Go-Goat, a song that’s been knocking around for some time, actually had the working title ‘The Throwback Single’. “I grew up listening to ‘60s music like the Rolling Stones and The Doors, as well as metal. People shouldn’t read too much into this direction, though. The next album is going to be something completely different from that.”

Can Tobias perhaps give two words to describe where, musically or thematically, album number five is heading?

“I’d choose the words ‘fifth’ and ‘album’,” he replies with a wry smile, before justifying what seems like a diversionary tactic. “I look at many fifth albums as a guide as to the urgency for what that record will need to be, with [Iron Maiden’s] Powerslave being a great example. By the fifth album you’re at a point in your career where you have this momentum built up, and you have the expectancy of people depending on you, so you have to put something special in those many spotlights. You need to step up and make a record that’s worth it and justifies all of these things.”

Who, then, can we expect to see fronting these rituals in future?

“I just know that person will have the name Papa Emeritus IV. It will be the fourth Papa Emeritus. But who that is, we don’t know yet.”

We’re not sure we believe him, so push for more. Might we see Cardinal Copia graduating to Papa status? The latest episode of the web series seems to indicate the ‘Sister Imperator’ character and Papa Nihil conceived a child. Wouldn’t that make him part of the papal bloodline?

“I think that what you will get over the next year are a lot of answers to a lot of questions,” offers Tobias, keeping things vague.

Like the question of whether Sister is pregnant? (In the latest ‘chapter’ of the web series, Sister attacks a woman at a Ghost show for smoking next to her).

“We don’t know that yet. It would blow my mind if she was now,” he says, clearly referring to the elderly Sister in the present day. This suggests she could well be with child back in 1969, though.

Has Tobias sketched what this new Papa will look like?

“Have you ever seen The Big Lebowski?” he asks by way of an answer, referencing the scene in the Coen brothers’ classic where Jeff Bridges’ character, The Dude, spots someone drawing on a notepad. When the man leaves the room with the piece of paper, The Dude rushes to scribble on to the page below to reveal the outline of what’s been drawn, only to discover it’s a doodle of a cock and balls. “It’s something along those lines.”

Sensing Tobias is in full evasion mode by this point, we change tack. Perhaps understanding his ambitions, and whether there’s a summit to them, can shed some light on the future – especially as he seems more focused on what Ghost’s next album will do rather than what it will sound like.

“I wouldn’t necessarily compare [my ambitions] to what the Rolling Stones have done, because that was a completely different time under completely different circumstances. For the last 40 years they have sold tickets because of nostalgic reasons, and maybe 40 years in the future there would be a nostalgia element for Ghost, but I can’t count on that.”

“I regard Metallica as colleagues and friends now, but they’re still Metallica,” he says of the thrash legends Ghost supported on their European stadium tour this summer. “I am an ambassador and they are presidents. But when I look to Metallica for influence, I’m looking at what they did in 1988. We’re on our fourth album, as they were on the Damaged Justice Tour, so the next stop is the Black Album.”

Spotting Kerrang!’s obvious joy at this admission, Tobias is quick to clarify exactly what he means by this.

“You have to make a responsible record,” he adds emphatically. “That doesn’t mean to expect riffs. It’s two different things – what the record sounds like and knowing to put yourself in the right spot at the right time. When I had nothing, and lived in a small apartment that cost very little because the ceiling leaked, the dream was to be able to live off making music. When I had kids that became even more important. Now it’s about something else. I’m responsible for showing my wife and my kids that all these years of waiting for me have been worth it. And that goes beyond money, because at the end of the day that’s just seasoning. One day my kids will be grown-up and I have to be able to show them that all this time playing rock shows had a real purpose.”

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Tobias loves touring.

“I’m like a sailor,” he says. “I just love being on the ocean. I’ve not always been on tour, but I’ve always been a transient person. And the road to achieving all this is endless, just like the road I looked down when I was five seemed to me at the time.”

Kerrang

[wordywarriorwrites]

Chapter 7: Match

Masterlist: The Boss of Brooklyn A03 Story Link Author: @wordywarriorwrites Summary: When it comes to being The Boss, James Buchanan “JB” Barnes rules with an iron fist. For him, there’s no room for sentiment, and certainly no time for distraction, even if it is in the form of an old flame. Steve Rogers had bowed out of the life a long time ago, but a twist of fate brings him right back into the fold, and face-to-face with a man he once loved. When a game of cat and mouse turns into a matter of life and death, both will be forced to decide whether they’ll be loyal to the business, or faithful to each other. A/N: Bucky Barnes Mob Boss AU. Stucky. For: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan Star’s Multi-Fandom Follower Celebration & @sherrybaby14 Sherry’s Fall Into You Challenge. Warnings: Language, violence, drug use, alcohol, smoking, explicit sexual content, illegal activities. *Re-blogs are welcome. Plagiarism isn’t. *

Bucky had Steve locked up in one of their off-the-books houses, and though a big obstacle had been put out of commission, he hadn’t been able to breathe any easier.

They’d taken more than liberal shots across the bow at each other, and all they had to show for the eyebrow-raising, tongue-wagging spectacle was a crumpled-up plane ticket and a well-worn passport. The cellphone would’ve given them more, but the prisoner stubbornly refused to give up the password, and the encryption had proved impossible to crack.

Eventually, Bucky had been forced to accept that no amount of persuasion, gentle or otherwise, could break a man whose loyalty was unwavering, and now, he had a choice to make: either pursue reconciliation, release him, or put forward a motion to vote him out.

None of the options satisfied, because to Bucky, forgiveness felt like submission, letting him go looked like weakness, and banishment after the fact appeared petulant. What he really wanted to do was wash his hands of all of it and put Steve down like a rabid dog, but given the optics, Bucky knew such drastic measures wouldn’t have been well-received.

Conducting business often meant walking a fine line between discipline and diplomacy. Bucky’s ruthlessness may have gotten those who answered to him to straighten up and fall in line, but a Boss who always went for the jugular never stayed in power for long. Slitting Steve’s throat would give him peace of mind, but wouldn’t resolve the underlying problem, and therein lied the rub.

Since Steve had never once betrayed the Families confidences, his offenses, though frowned upon, had been viewed by the others as worthy of only a slap on the wrist. They wanted a conciliatory verdict and Bucky’s indecisiveness on the matter had been noticed.

With no end to the stalemate in sight, Natasha asked for permission to do what she did best – find the head of the snake and either cut it off or charm it. As there hadn’t been a suitable alternative, Bucky had granted her leave.  

She’d had nothing but the plane ticket and passport to go on, but nevertheless, Natasha returned victorious a month later, and brought with her a proxy of the man Steve had been working for. The Families finally got their answers, and in addition, the representative for Nick Fury put forward a lucrative proposal – one that would merge their businesses and expand everyone’s horizons.

The Families had an unshakable foothold in the States. Nick’s team dominated the overseas market. Bucky and Fury would remain the respective leaders of their groups, but share territory, jobs, and information. Consolidation ensured survival, allowed them to expand their powerbases, and best of all, opened up untapped revenue streams.

Bucky had rather liked the idea, mostly because the possibilities seemed endless, but they wanted Steve released, and for him to be de-facto “ambassador” to both groups. To them, Steve was the optimal “bridge,” as he had a keen insight into both operations, and could be trusted to see to the best interest of both parties. Bucky hadn’t liked it, but since the proposal hinged upon certain concessions, they’d come to an arrangement.

The Families agreed to release Steve into the custody of the proxy, but to make sure nobody got any bright ideas, one of the cops they had on their payroll slapped an ankle monitor on him that tracked his every move. Both sides agreed it would be removed after the deal was done, and The Families would accept Steve’s new role in the organization so long as it proved beneficial.

A handshake put a temporary seal on things, and forty-eight hours later, Fury and his associates touched down in New York. The first gathering had been nothing more than a gracious, overtly formal meet-and-greet, and though it was clear neither party trusted the other, they were all looking toward the future, and wanted to make the arrangement work.

They broke bread later that evening, and after several days of negotiation, managed to reach an agreement that satisfied everyone. It had taken their lawyers almost a week, but they finally finished drawing up the paperwork, and it awaited their signatures.  

When Bucky settled into bed the night before what would be the final sit down, he knew the next day would see him headed into uncharted territory, and the prospect both daunted and excited him. He didn’t open his eyes again until late afternoon, and if his cellphone hadn’t rung, he was sure he would have slept even longer.

Groggy and a bit disoriented, he rolled over, and retrieved his phone.

“Fury wants to chat before the dotted line is signed,” Natasha stated by way of greeting.

He sighed, tossed back the blankets, and got out of bed, “Should I be concerned?”  

“I don’t know,” she admitted quietly.

Bucky frowned, stepped into the bathroom, and turned on the shower. Speaking privately with a rival before a deal was done wasn’t unheard of, but it wasn’t exactly standard operating procedure, either, and if he refused, it could be misconstrued as an insult.

Unwilling to risk the payday, he set aside his apprehension, and told Natasha to make the arrangements. After he ended the call, Bucky discarded his boxers, and stepped beneath the spray. The hot water helped clear the bleariness, but it did little to settle his racing thoughts.

The last meet was supposed to take place later in the evening. A tenable location had been selected by a neutral third party and neither group would be given the address until an hour beforehand. Security, which had been carefully selected and pre-approved, would be on-hand to make sure nobody brought weapons or uninvited guests. Their attorneys would be present as witnesses, and though no court would ever see the paperwork, it would be legally binding nonetheless.

Everything had been painstakingly planned and he disliked this last-minute request for a chat. He was sure the impromptu discussion would not be a pleasant one, and a few hours later, he was proven right.

Fury showed up at his penthouse with both Steve and Natasha in tow. A stiff, albeit polite greeting; drinks served; seats taken on opposite sides of the dining room table. The tense silence was broken when Nick sat forward and pointed his index finger, first in Steve’s direction, and then, toward Bucky.  

“Is this going to be a problem?” he asked.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“We’re about to build a bridge and I don’t want anyone to be apprehensive about crossing it,” Fury went on bluntly. “So, I need to know – can I trust you both to let it go?”

The question and what it insinuated was an affront, but not wholly inappropriate, and if the situation had been reversed, Bucky would’ve wondered the same. After all, he and Steve weren’t just two men on the outs who had found themselves on opposing sides. They had a lifetime of unspoken, unaddressed issues between them, but Bucky had chosen to set it aside because it was what was best for the Families and for business.  

He’d traded personal animosity for profit, previously asserted the past would remain in the past, and conceded Steve was and would continue to be off-limits. He was poised to reiterate his position on the matter, but when he observed the cagey, hardened expression on Nick’s face, he suddenly understood why the man had wanted to meet at the eleventh hour. If Fury was inquiring about matters that had already put to rest, he wasn’t really on board, and the reason was so glaringly obvious that Bucky felt rather stupid for not seeing it sooner.

He’d done his homework and knew Fury was not a sentimental man. He had a history of plugging potential leaks with bullets and did so ruthlessly without qualm. The fact that his organization had gone through so much trouble to secure Steve’s release, instead of seeing him silenced, meant he was far more valuable than Bucky originally thought. He knew the two men weren’t sleeping together, which ruled out love as a reason, and that left Bucky with only one, viable conclusion.

The idea of a peaceful union most likely had not come from the man in charge; if that was the case, it meant Nick’s own people may have shifted their allegiance, and that explained why Steve hadn’t been present to provide his input during in their initial meetings. He’d been made a glorified babysitter because he had somehow threatened Nick’s authority; he knew too much, but was too well-liked to be eliminated, and therefore, needed to be kept out of sight and out of mind.

Given Steve’s propensity for honesty, he’d also likely disclosed that he and Bucky had been more than friends. Fury wanted them to be cordial, but didn’t want them to get too close, or rekindle the past. If they still had feelings for each other, or ever decided to rejoin forces, there would be a shift in the balance of power, and that would be disastrous for Fury.  

The word coup sprang to mind and fuck if it didn’t make Bucky hard just thinking about it…

“Well?” Nick prompted impatiently.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Bucky cleared his throat, and leveled Fury with a hard stare.

“Steve Rogers is a business associate and nothing more,” he asserted lowly. “And I will not repeat myself on this matter ever again. Is that understood?”

Before Fury could offer up an agreement or speak another word, Bucky polished off his drink, pushed back his chair, and got to his feet. It was his way of silently declaring the conversation was over, and Fury had little choice but follow suit, or else risk being seen as issuing further insult.

Nick promptly stood and extended his hand, “I meant no disrespect.”

“I took no offense,” Bucky lied smoothly as they shook. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few more things to attend to before this evening. Natasha will see you out.”

They parted ways, and just after sunset, they met again for what Bucky hoped would be the final time. Everyone put pen to paper, Steve included, and right afterward, Fury and the rest of his crew promptly departed for the airport. With the deal done, the ankle monitor was removed, and though Steve had been invited to celebrate with the Families, he’d declined, and that hadn’t surprised Bucky in the slightest.

Good food, top-shelf booze, and a windfall the likes of which the Families had never seen before had erased any and all doubts. Bucky was congratulated for the accomplishment and many hours of partying and back-slapping passed before he made it home again.  

When he arrived back at the penthouse, Natasha was standing just outside his door, and had a bottle of Cristal in each hand. After the corks were popped, they settled down side-by-side on the couch, and enjoyed the obscenely expensive bubbly sans flutes.

“To a job well done,” Bucky toasted.

“I’ll drink to that,” Natasha sighed as she kicked off her heels,

“You need to take some time off,” he insisted. “And when you return, we’ll discuss the future.”

She giggled and shook her head, “The ink hasn’t even dried, and you’re already planning a takedown, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

“You play a dangerous game, Boss.”

Bucky chuckled and tapped the neck of his champagne bottle lightly against hers, “Yes, and in this game, it’s winner-take-fuckin’-all.”

Chapter 8: The Fall

Everything: @jennmurawski13​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​

Steve Rogers: @patzammit @hearttoearth​ The Boss of Brooklyn: @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @captain-rogers-beard​ @lilliannaansalla

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 11)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 5,570    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, R-rated language, show level violence

~~~~~

Dean sipped slow at the steaming black coffee he’d picked up on his way to Cas’s house. Way too fuckin’ early. A dude in his sixties, walking a yippy Yorkshire, squinted hard at Dean biding time in Baby outside the tiny two bedroom cottage belonging to Castiel Novak. Tempted to give him the middle finger, Dean instead opted for a two finger friendly salute with a grin. The elder man continued down the sidewalk, his reflection eventually caught by Dean in the rearview mirror. He passed behind the Impala, stopped right at the tailpipe, and took a mental note of the license plate.

“Come on, man.” Dean mumbled to himself. “I can only handle so much stupid this early. The POS dog saved its owner, pulling him across the street and yapping the whole damn way.

He yawned and leaned back in his seat. The time on his watch confirmed it was way too early to be up and out of the house on a Saturday morning. Especially when he wasn’t on a job. Especially when, if Cas hadn’t shown up, he’d probably be in Julie’s bed sleeping. He grinned. Probably not sleeping.

No, Dean was pretty sure he would have woken Julie up very early to do more of what he wished they’d done last night. When he’d gotten back to his house after saying goodbye, he’d attempted to explain the term cockblocking to Cas. Cas had sat on the couch with perfect posture. He listened, as he always did when Dean explained something, with that dazed and confused expression. Dean paced back and forth in a state of irritability and arousal. “Do you know how long it’s been, Cas, since I’ve had a piece of ass?”

“I believe you’ve gotten pieces of ass more recently than I have, Dean. My last sexual encounter was with the reaper, April.” Cas had experienced much in his human form, but he still felt like an innocent, humorless child to Dean in moments like this.

“Piece of…” Dean shook his head. “Nevermind. Look, it’s been a long fuckin’ time, okay?”

Cas stared at the cushion between his open legs, processing. “My intrusion prevented you from reaching orgasm with Julie.” He stared back at Dean with a head tilt and puppy dog eyes. “I am sorry.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Whatever.”

Cas had then gone on about the troubles he was having with Jack. Dean took it all in and promised he’d come over bright and early the next morning to try and talk to the kid. Cas still looked perplexed as Dean scooted him out of the house, explaining they wouldn’t be playing cards that night.

The grass in front of Cas’s house was drenched in dew. A thin film of grey fog hung low in the air. Dean sipped hard and long at the coffee. He let the strong brew settle on his tongue and inhaled the dark roast aroma he craved. He needed the caffeine to do its job this morning. He’d only clocked a couple hours of sleep. It was nothing new. But he could usually catch up on the insomnia in the late morning when he was home. Not today. There were things on his agenda after he took care of this unpleasant family business. They would require way more energy than what he currently had to expend with Jack and Cas.

Julie is number one on my to do list. The other items being all the things I want to do to Julie.

His cock had begged for attention all night and morning. Even now, sitting in the driver’s seat, he could feel his semi press with insistence against the denim. But he’d refrained. It wasn’t like he hadn’t beat off to thoughts of Julie before. It had become a daily, sometimes multiple times a day, occurrence since that first night after he tasted her cobbler. He’d dropped the phone immediately after the text conversation had ended, letting her know how good her sweet treat had been, and jerked off imagining how sweet she tasted.

After getting a hint of what she tasted like last night, he was hell bent on having her wrapped around him the next time he came. He leaned back in his seat and tilted the rearview mirror to confirm he had that cheesy ass grin on his face from his thoughts of her. This is bad. The dissatisfaction of how Julie was getting under his skin battled with the want to experience this other feeling fully. You’re just gonna fuck it up. Can’t do normal. Tried it once and it didn’t stick. And, she’s too sweet to hurt.

Lisa had been sweet, too. But Lisa had a streetsmart edge that made her a kickass single mom long before Dean came into the picture. Plus, Lisa and Ben had the benefit of having their minds erased - thanks, Cas - of Dean’s existence after he’d put their lives in danger from being a part of his. If Dean tried the experiment again with Julie, there’d be no “Men in Black” take-it-back wipe. The once angel, now human, had lost his power after the final battle that had righted this world back on its axis two years ago. Jack was all human now, too.

The lack of celestial backup had been the hardest adjustment after over a decade of relying on it as a fail-safe. Dean could only imagine how it was for Cas. They’d had a few heart to hearts over whiskey, which now knocked Cas on his ass after one shot. The brother from another father had been to the mat for him and Sam more times than Dean could count. Helping save the world and giving up everything that made him special dropped Cas into a world of trivial every day that he would never snap out of. Not until he died. Which was another mindfuck for Cas. After centuries, he would die. There would be a finality to all of it. But, I’ll have my own version of heaven to look forward too, Dean. That’s something. I won’t be swallowed up by the empty and cease to be. My soul will be at peace. Dean had clapped his friend’s shoulder as he cried, realizing the same would happen to Jack. Someday.

After two years of keeping your nose as far out of normal as possible, you’ve got to go and mess with this sweet woman.

Dean tilted his head and started that inner debate he’d done too many times lately. To be fair, she started sniffing around me first.

Get off your high horse, asshole. You’ve been sniffed around dozens of times before and steered clear. You’re lonely and she’s so far from what you deserve that you’re curious. You wanna see if you can make something stick. Like Sammy has with Eileen.

Sammy’s moved on and is trying to build a life. Why shouldn’t I?

Because you’re a speeding train with non-existent brakes heading straight towards the edge of a cliff, that’s why. Fucking train wreck on bow legs.

The phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. Julie was calling. It was 7:30 am. The emotional lashing removed from his psyche, swiped away with Baby’s windshield wipers. It was replaced by that feeling she’d been stirring up within him more lately. It was more than arousal. He denied himself to define it. If he did, it might disappear.

He accepted the call on the fourth ring while clearing his throat. “Well, good morning, beautiful.”

“Hey, Dean.” Her voice was lighter this morning, more like the tone he was used to hearing. Not that he at all minded the lower, commanding pitch of the indecent woman he got a preview of last night. Shit. His erection was growing. He shifted in his seat.

“Couldn’t wait for me to check in first, huh?”

She laughed. “Guess not. I didn’t see your car when I got up this morning. Things okay?”

“Yeah. Things are good.” He grinned and tapped a button on his phone.

“Are you trying to FaceTime me?”

“Sounds dirty.”

She laughed again. “Everything sounds dirty to you.” She sighed trying to sound done with him, but he knew she wasn’t. “Hold on.” He held the phone back. His screen only provided a quick preview of his own state. Bags under his eyes and unshaven, he didn’t look as put together as the night before.

The screen switched to a view of Julie. Her brown hair was up in a bun. The hair looked freshly washed as did the rest of her enticing olive colored skin. When I make her blush it’s got splotches of cotton candy pink all over it. He appreciated the slope and curve of her neck. Big, brown almond-shaped eyes stared him down, studying him, from behind glasses. He’d put her in the role of hot librarian in a few of his release sessions. He particularly liked the one where she was bent over a desk and he was fucking her from behind hard enough to knock books off nearby shelves. He had a sneaking suspicion she’d be up for that kind of roleplaying. He really liked her in those tight button up shirts she wore to work a lot.

Her voice brought him out of his erotic daydreaming. “You’re lucky I’m presentable. Or, I would have denied you.” She quipped. There it was, that little hint of dominance. It came out on occasion and thrilled him with the facets and possibilities of this seemingly normal, but very interesting, woman. “Where are you?”

“Outside Cas’s house.”

“You’re over Cas’s already?”

“Yeah. He asked if I’d talk to the kid. I had to get here early.” She sipped at her large mug of coffee and sat at her kitchen table. “Jack’s apparently planning a trip to visit a girl he met online. Was going to buy a plane ticket and leave today.”

Julie’s already big eyes widened farther. “Wow. When you say kid…”

Dean scratched at the stubble. “He’s twenty. Kid to me. Plus, Jack’s also…” He opened his mouth to attempt a description but shook his head instead.

Julie grinned. “Special?”

Dean nodded. “Must be hereditary.” Or a common “I was once an angel and I’m trying to figure out how to be human” thing. Fuck my life. How would this woman ever understand and be okay with even an ounce of this insanity?

“Still there? I think you froze.”

Dean had gone into his thoughts long enough for Julie to think the connection had been lost. “I’m here.” He cleared his throat. “It’s been tough. Cas tried to shelter him from a lot of things. Can’t control him anymore.”

Julie shrugged. “Well, no, of course not. He’s his own person. He’s going to have to make mistakes and learn from them.”

“Yeah. This might end up being more of an intervention for Cas, I think.”

She gave him a slight smile. “I hope things go well.”

“Thanks.” His mouth perked up. “What are you doing later?”

Julie grinned. “Wasn’t planning on much today. Run some errands after breakfast. Lazy Saturday.”

“Can I come by?”

Her eyes lit up. “Of course. But you might want to rest up first. You look tired.”

He puckered his lips together in thought before he asked, “are you planning to wear me out?”

She nodded. “Lots of pent up frustration I need to get out.”

His tongue swiped over his top lip. “Can’t wait.”

That produced a giggle and shake of her head. “Bye, Dean.” She waved a few fingers in front of her face.

“Bye, Jules.” She ended the call first. He didn’t think he would have been able to. He much rather preferred hiding in his car, staring at that pretty face, than having to go and do something even close to parenting with Jack. Hell, I’ll be parenting Cas today, too.

He groaned along with the hinges of Baby’s driver side door as he got out.

~~~~~

Dean drove back into his neighborhood and past Julie’s house around two o’clock. Her little blue compact wasn’t under the carport. Damn toy car. He shook his head. At least it’s a Chevy.

Dean had taken a sensible approach with Jack. When he got down to the nuts and bolts of it all, the kid was bored and looking for an adventure. And horny as hell. Something Dean could easily relate to at that particular moment. It took some time, but Dean convinced him to save up his earnings from his upcoming summer job. If things were still hot and heavy long distance with this girl, he should take a trip to see her in Texas during Winter break. For now, Dean enlightened him to the beauty and intricacies of sexting and phone sex. Jack was all smiles by the time Dean had left Cas’s house.

Once Dean pulled into his own driveway, he texted Julie. Just got home. Going to pass out. Call when you get home. I’ll jump the fence and be right over. He smirked, happy with the blend of eagerness and cheese in his composition. A decision to shower before his nap set him back fifteen minutes. The warm water relaxed and the steam released the residual alcohol from his pores. Sleep was merciful and came as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He stirred and was half-woken up to Wes’s voice drifting in from his open bedroom window. A pillow was about to be used to muffle the disruption when he identified another voice and cocked his head to listen.

Brigida? What the hell is she doing here? Dean moaned. Ugh, am I gonna get cockblocked by the feisty little Italian mother, too?

“It’s not like Giulia. I told her to come by and pick up some sausage and peppers I made. She said she’d be by around 11:00. And, now, she’s not picking up her phone. It doesn’t even ring, Wes. Just goes to that voicemail. And the map thingy says she’s here still. What does that mean?”

Wes mumbled something Dean couldn’t quite make out. He reached for his phone on the nightstand and checked the screen. No notifications appeared. He tapped his messages to make sure he hadn’t missed a reply from Julie. Nothing. His lips pursed. He tried to call her. Straight to voicemail. His heart sped up when he noticed the time. Six o’clock.

Dean shot up in bed, already dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He pulled on some sneakers and hurried out to the backyard.

Brigida stood near the divide between Julie and Wes’s backyard. A large aluminum tray rested on her forearms and her purse dangled at the elbow. Wes was at his grill down near the edge of his own driveway. She and Wes both turned to Dean at his approach toward the fenceline.

“Dean-ah. Have you seen Giulia today?” There was no smile on her face in the greeting. The little lady was on a mission.

“I haven’t, Brigida.” His hands gripped the fence. “Everything alright?”

She shook her head. Her mouth opened and shut. “I- it’s not like her.” Her lips began to quiver.

Aw, hell. Dean jumped over the fence and rushed to Brigida. He pulled one of the patio chairs close to her short, stocky frame. Easing her to sit, he removed the warm tray from her grip and placed it on the table.

Wes came to her side with a pair of greasy tongs in hand. “I’m sure it’s nothing and Julie’s alright, Mamma.” Wes bumbled out the soothing statement. A stale stench of alcohol and pot emanated from the hippie.

Dean knelt down to talk to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Did you knock on her door, ring the doorbell, Brigida?”

She nodded.

He pressed further. “Don’t you have a key? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you let yourself in to check on her.”

“Wes told me he saw her leave earlier. And, I didn’t want to go in there by myself.” Her eyes darted to Wes and back to Dean. She leaned in and tried her best to whisper. “I thought, if she was home, she might be busy and didn’t want to walk in on… well, now that I know you were at your house and alone…”

Dean waited for more clarification. Someone else might have missed the tiniest of smiles on her aging lips. But, not Dean. “When I talked to her this morning, she said she might be seeing you later. Told me she had a nice time on your date last night.”

Wes tapped his tongs together at that bit of information. Dean smiled. Warmth shot over his cheeks. “Ah. Well, when I got home this afternoon her car wasn’t here.”

“When was that?” Brigida asked.

“About two.”

“Should we call the police?” Brigida pulled her phone out of her purse.

Dean shook his head. “Police won’t do anything. They’ll say it’s only been a few hours, really, since anyone’s heard…”

“It’s not like her.” Brigida repeated. “Something’s wrong.”

Dean nodded and patted her shoulder again. He’d only known Julie for a few weeks but even he knew something wasn’t right. From their texts and conversations, he’d found out a lot about the relationship she had with her mother. They were extraordinarily close. Their communications were daily.

Brigida wouldn’t be left waiting around without an explanation. Julie would have known it would result in a car ride over to check to see what happened. It made no difference that her adult daughter was competent and independent. Even if there was some possible hanky panky going on with Dean, Brigida made it abundantly clear she’d knock on doors and ring doorbells and wait in a backyard until her daughter told her everything was fine. This woman, who immigrated from Italy with no more than an elementary school education, was a fierce protector who would not be ignored. Dean made a mental note to not get on her bad side.

But first, they had to find Julie.

“I saw Julie leave around ten. I was working on the garden.” Wes piped in.

By now, Samuel had come out of the house and wandered over to the discussion. “What’s wrong?”

“Julie’s missing.” Wes stated.

“Missing?” Samuel’s eyes bugged out in alarm.

Dean stood up, his hand still on Brigida’s shoulder. He could feel her beginning to shake. “She’s not missing.” He attempted to defuse the escalation and nodded down to Brigida. “We’re just trying to figure out what might be keeping her out this long. She hasn’t been in contact with anyone.”

Samuel nodded back at Dean and placed a hand on Wes’s shoulder as well. Dean knew Samuel would try to redirect his partner with the phrasing of his words. “She did leave around ten. I was taking care of the flower beds out front.” Samuel snapped a finger. “She talked to that woman passing out those flyers, Wes.”

“Flyers?”

Samuel clarified. “Missing dog. She came by our porch and asked if we’d keep an eye out, right before she went over to Julie’s.”

“Pretty chocolate lab.” The expression on Wes’s face about the dog matched Brigida’s, thinking about Julie. “Where’s that flyer?” Wes slipped from under Samuel’s grip and went towards the direction of the grill. Man needs a leash. Dean shook his head.

Samuel sighed. “Julie seemed to know her. They talked for a few minutes at the end of her driveway. I’d gone back into the house for something. I saw Julie’s car driving up the lane when I came back out.”

“But, you’ve never seen that woman before?”

Samuel shook his head.

Wes shot back with the flyer and handed it to Dean. Aside from a picture and the name of the dog, there was only a number to call if someone could provide information. Dean turned the paper over but there was nothing on the back. A detail about Wes and Samuel’s house popped into his head. “You guys have one of those doorbell cameras, don’t you?”

Samuel smiled. “Yep.” He pulled out his phone, already going into the app to pull up the time in question.

“How about I get you something to eat, Mamma?” Wes asked Brigida.

She waved a hand in silence.

“Here it is.” Samuel passed his phone over to Dean.

He squinted at the video, impressed with the image’s clarity. His eyes widened in recognition. “Son of a bitch.”

“What?” Brigida, Wes, and Samuel asked in unison.

“I’ve seen Cocoa’s owner before. Last night, actually. At the restaurant we went to. She did know Julie.” Dean’s mind started putting puzzle pieces together.

“Maybe she’ll know where she was going.” Brigida exclaimed.

Dean raised a finger and pulled out his phone. He copied the number from the flyer into his keypad and dialed. His mouth pursed when it went straight to voicemail and he listened to the generic robot voice repeating the number. He waited for the beep. "Hi, I've got some info on your lost dog, Cocoa. You can reach me at the following number." After leaving his cell contact he hung up. He turned to Brigida. "I'll see what I can get out of her when she calls back."

"But, she'll be all hopeful about Cocoa," Wes began.

“What restaurant?” Brigida stood up. “We should go over there and talk to her.”

Dean nodded with caution. “Absolutely, Brigida. I’m going to go and do that right now.” He forced her to stare at him. “You’re going to stay here, with Wes and Samuel, in case Julie comes back home. Alright? I promise, I’ll let you know if I find out anything. With your permission, can I go into Julie's house with you and take a quick look around before I head out?”

“Of course.” She patted his cheek. “Such a good man.” She fished the key out of her purse, ready to walk up to the sliding door.

He shot Brigida a smile, attempting to hide his own worry. “Let’s get you inside so you can wait for your daughter to come home.”

~~~~~

Dean had inspected every room in Julie’s home. His inner radar picked up nothing weird or unusual. He wished he had his EMF meter with him. Next time I’m here I’ll do a proper sweep for her. When Julie’s back. Just to make sure she won’t have an unruly specter to contend with after this is over. And she’s back.

All he deduced was proof of a life being unpacked, reorganized, and put back together again. He’d stolen a few seconds in her office to stare at the picture of a teenage Julie with her awkward prom date. In her bedroom, he sniffed at the perfume bottle holding the scent she’d worn last night. Though nothing was amiss, the tangible remnants of her existence filled Dean with dread. Here. Then gone. In an instant. So many people in his life had disappeared like that. Not Julie, too.

He refused to rile up Julie’s mother with any more fear than she was already producing. She gave him an unexpected, long, and strong hug for a woman of her diminutive stature. “Find her, please.” He gave her a slight smile and rushed out into the backyard only to freeze on the lawn, unsure of his next step.

Possible ways to track her down ticked through Dean’s head. I could call in that favor.

A scroll through his phone’s contacts skidded to a stop. “Detective Tullman.” The thick southern accent answered.

“Marty. Dean Winchester.”

“Ah, Dean.” Dean had heard that particular phrase with that hesitant inflection countless times by a select group of people. These individuals crossed paths with Dean in his other line of work. Everything they knew of the world had been upended in an instant; usually the instant when Dean showed up on their doorstep. An encounter pulled them into the nastiness that lived under the translucent veil of normality.

“What can I do ya for? Aren’t in a jail cell sleepin’ off a bender, are ya?” The detective’s tone changed as Dean knew it would. What had started out a year back as a collaborative and mutually beneficial meeting on a standard bail enforcement job escalated into something much worse. Marty called Dean to relay his skip had been found; shot by a security guard after a bank robbery attempt in Newark. He was in an ambulance headed to the trauma center at the nearest hospital. His accomplice had escaped and was on the loose.

Only problem was, Dean was staring at his skip in a backyard that belonged to an apparent girlfriend. Was he sure they had the right guy? Dean sent Marty a picture of the person he was watching. The detective high-tailed it to the house a mile from the crime scene. The fucking thing shed its skin in the tiny yard while he and Marty looked on in bewilderment over the top of the wooden fence.

A chase ensued near abandoned train tracks. Marty bum rushed it to the ground but got overpowered. The monster pulled a knife from its boot and raised it over its head. Sunshine glinted off the blade as it readied to sink the tip into the detective’s chest. Dean shot the knife out of its grip. He followed by firing two silver bullets into its heart. What he was pretty certain was the dead body of a shapeshifter slumped on top of Marty.      

Thoughts and details came together in Marty’s head once the shock wore off. The body in front of him was the other bank robber. He, or it, had known the skip for a while and were low level partners in crime. Dean suggested the shifter may have had a hard on for the other guy’s girl, who thankfully wasn’t home. Most monsters also battled human vices. Lust and greed were a common denominator.

The detective came up with a story to cover their combined asses. They both spent a couple hours at the shootout location rehashing it over and over. Dean watched Marty hold his shit together quite well with a ton of law enforcement, CSI, and emergency personnel swarming like bees for evidence and details.

Dean and Marty bonded over cold beers at the closest bar. Dean found out Marty had been deployed to Iraq back in 2003. He’d been on the frontline of war for two years. He was a reliable, steadfast soldier. Nervous before a battle, but willing to put his life on the line for the greater good. They had a lot of commonality when it came to bloodshed. The nightmares that collided and crept into their days without warning simply involved different enemies.

“I need some help.”

Marty chuckled. “Ain’t gonna cost me my badge is it? I know I owe you my life, but I still got a wife and kids to feed.”

“Shouldn’t. Friend’s gone missing. It’s only been half a day, but it’s not adding up.”

“Local friend?”

“Yeah. Pike Creek.”

“Whaddya got for me?”

He smiled and rattled off Julie’s full name and the license plate he’d committed to memory. “Drives a blue, compact Chevy,” He added. “Five foot five. Long brown hair, probably in a ponytail, brown eyes, wears glasses. Italian, if that helps.”

“She cute?” Marty asked.

“Very.”

“Alrighty, I’ll have some guys keep an eye out in the area.”

“I’m gonna do my own investigating. Appreciate it, man. Thanks.”

“Thank me if I find ya somethin’.” He hung up.

Samuel popped into Dean’s view from under Julie’s covered patio. “What are you going to do when you get to the restaurant?” The balding man folded up his glasses and hung them from the collar of his t-shirt. Dean had learned from interactions over the past two years that Samuel was sharp and much harder to misdirect than Wes.

“Just ask this woman some questions.” Dean began his cut through their backyard to shorten the walk back to the house. He wasn’t keen on hopping the fence again.

Samuel kept pace with his quick steps. “Why would she answer any of your questions?”

“She saw me with Julie last night. I’m not some random stalker.” He tapped Samuel’s elbow. “Don’t you worry. I have some other tricks up my sleeve.”

“I’m sure you do.” His tone was hopeful.

Are you really flirting with me, dude? Now? “Listen, Samuel. Would you sit with her? I’d ask Wes, but…”

“Brigida doesn’t need unintentional, emotional triggering.” Samuel nodded. “You’ve got my and Wes’s number, right? Call one of us with good news.”

When Dean slid into Baby’s driver seat fifteen minutes later, he’d donned a suit that had been hanging in his closet, unworn, for over six months. That was the last time he had impersonated an FBI agent. The badge was still in the jacket’s inside pocket.

His hunting trips, the ones that had always really mattered, were few and far between now. Six months ago, he’d introduced himself as agent Agent Barrow on that excursion near Atlantic City. The four-day ghost investigation ended with a salt and burn. The corpse was found buried on the grounds of an abandoned chemical plant.

Noxious fumes had permeated the air around him with each shovel full of earth. The stench seeped into and clung to the well-creased suit pants. He should have changed before the dig; that is, if he’d remembered to bring a change of clothes from the motel to start. He was getting rusty from a lack of daily discipline, forgetting what had become rote for decades.

He remembered hiking back to Baby around two am, exhausted, after exhuming the remains. There was no way he was contaminating the car’s interior with that smell. So he drove back to the motel wearing only his boxers, dress shoes, socks, and his watch. The stinky clothes were stuffed in a garbage bag. After he helped the soul find peace, his reward was walking through the motel parking lot, up a flight of stairs, to his second floor room in only his skivvies. Had to get the damn suit dry cleaned, too.

Dean caught a light whiff of the chemicals, hopelessly embedded in the suit threads forever. His mind raced with a million thoughts driving to Makenzie’s steakhouse. But Julie was at the forefront of them. It was a long twenty minute drive.

Find her, please. How many times had he heard similar distressing requests? Hundreds, maybe. All of them had a missing loved one they were desperate to track down and bring home safe. How many times had he not been able to do that? Not today. He shook his head and tried to smile. She’s not done with me yet.

Julie’s voice bubbled up into his mind when he glanced at the passenger seat.

“So, Baby belonged to your Dad?” She attempted some conversation as Dean raced to beat the reservation.

“Yep.” He responded, eyes on the road swerving in and out of traffic. Once he was happy with his spot in the fast lane, no one in front of him for a good stretch, he cocked his head in her direction. Her eyes, big and brown, inspected the interior while her hand clamped on the door handle. “Pretty, isn’t she?” Dean smirked, proud.

“She is. Almost as pretty as her owner.” Her gaze locked onto his lips.

“Hey now.” He put on the show he knew she wanted and licked them nice and slow. “She’ll get offended, you thinking I’m prettier.”

“I’m sorry, Baby.” She stroked the dash. “It’s true, though.”

Dean laughed. “I’m pretty, huh?” He shot back at Julie and glanced in the rearview mirror before crossing over three lanes of traffic to get off the interstate.

Julie gasped. “Going to kill us before our date even gets started. If you’re going to drive like a maniac, you should at least be wearing a seatbelt.”

Baby careened down the ramp. When he got onto the avenue, his grip lifted off the wheel to fasten his lap belt. Both hands raised up in the air and he used his knee to steer. “Happy?” He reveled in her surprised reaction. The combo of scared and pissed off made her look even cuter.

“Okay, show-off.” She pointed at the wheel. “Hands at ten and two. Now.”

“Bossy.” He mumbled, returned his hands to the correct placement on the wheel, and pretended he wasn’t turned on by her commanding behavior. Slowing down in traffic, he shot her a sassy grin. “You done?”

“Done? “With you?” She tossed back with an equal amount of sass. “Just getting started.”

His ringing phone shot him out of his recollection. A glimmer of hope filled his voice as he answered. “Got something for me, detective?”

“Not sure if it’s anything good, my friend.” Marty was a straight shooter. “Officer found her car in a shopping center parking lot. Mile down the road from her house, in your neighborhood.” Marty was very good at his job. He didn’t miss a detail and double checked every bit of info. “No one in the vehicle. I’ve asked my guy to go into the stores and ask around. Have her paged, if needed. As long as we don’t get another emergency that takes him away, he’s on it for the next hour.”

It wasn’t bad news. Yet.

Part 12

Series Page

[artificialqueens]

living on the edge of the law (biadore) - lily2

bianca is beginning to feel the heat from her old job in brisbane as a personal assistant and planner for a large cooperation record label and now she is being transferred and thrown in the middle of santa monica where she is assigned and paid to be on the tail of up and coming singer and songwriter, adore delano: who is definitely the most lazy and adolescent thing bianca had ever encountered thus far but things can change, can’t they? [ au where adore is a famous singer and bianca has to chase her around and be her personal assistant to get her income, mainly biadore but side ships and plots of course ]

blog

— *.✧

Bianca was a bit unsure what to think, what to do even, while she stood in the midst of Brisbane Airport. Clenching her carry-on as she just had her two suitcases weighed and sent off to what would hopefully be Santa Monica in thirteen damn hours, unless the Qantas airline staff somehow threw her luggage in the fucking Pacific Ocean she should be safe and so should her luggage which mainly was a accumulation of clothing, cosmetics, stationary & a dozen other things that Courtney had helped her pack yesterday as they shared one last drink before forcing themselves to wake up almost three in the morning for Bianca’s early, early flight. The coffee in her hand making her the only thing fully able to function, she prayed to get some sleep on the plane and was thinking she would since her best friend she should upgrade to the new business class seating, just to try it out and what better time to than a flight that would take more than half a day off her life, over the clouds, planning to do nothing but get wasted on discount white wine’s and gaze her eyes on her laptop which was already harboring a million emails from her transfer company about her position, her hours, schedule, whatever the fuck they wanted to write about they seemed to write about and send to her. “Wonderful.” She muttered to nobody but herself as she sat dull and already half asleep in her gate’s seating. It would be about another twenty minutes before her section would get to be boarded though Bianca didn’t expect so many on a casual six in the morning flight to Santa Monica, landing in LAX. — “I think you should accept the job.” Courtney spoke as she hit her best friend’s shoulder and grinned ear to ear, knowing it would be fun to be back in her own country of birth, “You’ve been trapped down under for almost six years, go and see the motherland again!” The Australian’s lips curling into a viciously attentive smile as the girl next to her simply rolled her eyes and clutched her glass in hand, swirling the alcohol around as their eyes meat briefly.

“I’ve never been to Honduras or Cuba—” correcting Courtney on the fact that America was indeed not the true motherland, it was where she was born and grew up and New Orleans itself could be considered a different fucking continent with all the culture and languages and diverse communities living in one big, united city. “I haven’t heard the best of things about America in general.” Referring to the news in which Courtney could only snicker, “Bad things go on in every country, every city and everywhere! Go and have fun, you know I will come to visit anyway.” They embraced in a small hug before the Australian girl wiped her growing red eyes, Bianca moaning.  “Bitch if you dare get one tear on me I will make sure to whoop your ass so you hard you certainly won’t need a ticket to be in Santa Monica, I’ll express mail you.” Her tone only teasing though she knew deep down, Courtney was the only real person and best friend she had currently, struggling to get back in contact with old friends from America as the time came. “And maybe you’ll meet someone cute—” elbowing Bianca until she almost rolled Courtney off the bed with a yell, “Don’t even think about it, I came to work and maybe party once in a while, get better money but not for love. Besides, name me one decent American who isn’t taken, straight or a celebrity? You can’t, that’s the point.“  “Whatever happens you know I’ll annoy you and call you constantly, just the usual and casual girl things.” She hummed, the singer folding one of Bianca’s last articles of clothing. “If you didn’t I would murder you and unfollow you on all your social media, don’t test me motherfucker!” She spat as Courtney collapsed into her lap, “You can cry on Instagram live to all your five million Instagram followers!“  — Finger tips pressing against her IMac’s keyboard she begun to respond to a work email, this was one of the more interesting ones, about as interesting as assignments and work went but still something to do in whatever time she had left before she would just repeatedly listen to whatever shuffled on her phone once the airplane was in the air. She had already found out that her job was basically to do what she did with Courtney: boss her around, manage her social media, make sure she was healthy, laughing, whatever shit she needed and help with planning any kind of events, concerts, meetings, anything the record label asked for and needed. To: biancadelrio@gmail.com Bianca,  We are so excited that you have accepted the offer and I’m hoping the weather pulls through for your flight, you are our first new hire in a few seasons if I may be honest, most can’t handle the pressure, American records and singers are far more different than what it sounds like in Australia!  I have made sure to tell Katya, our head in our department, to ship the packet to the address you provided! I understand the move, I went from Chicago to Santa Monica and it can be alot so please if you need a place to stay let me know! The packet should have exactly what you expect and a few other goods because we try and make it as welcoming as possible, not us being cheesy, us trying not to get fired to be completely real.  Do not lose your ID, even if you use the pin to get in, security is really strict especially with all the mass hysteria with guarding and violence in the past few years, it’s required to clock in, clock out and even enter the bathroom, it sucks, I know but safety comes first I suppose.  Thank you and see you Monday! — Shea (sheacouleee@me.com)  Atleast it was an actual human beyond the emails so far, better than some rich executive who was scarfing down his fifth coffee of the afternoon and forcing his personal assistant to quietly tap against the grain and send all emails with the same format, copy and paste all day. “Gate 10 will now boarding flight from Brisbane to Los Angeles, California.” She stood and reluctantly shut her laptop before putting it in her case, in her carry on and bringing out her passport and boarding pass, chugging some of her overpriced bottled water that she had to purchase after security along with a stash of dark chocolate large enough to last for most likely a week. Bianca made a very decent salary at her last job and would be making even more at this one however she was not ever one to spend more than she had to, Courtney for a singer who was booming in media and charts was suprisingly frugal with her spending most days, which made it twice as fun when they both would go all out and do their once a month goose chase of a spree around town, getting in all the stores they wanted in the span of one single day. “Well, let’s do this thing.” The words leaving her lips as she sent one last picture to Courtney of her passport and coffee, sending it with the text message of: If you don’t hear from me in twenty hours, I’m probably drunk!  *.✧ The announcement came on and the lights flashed for them to be able to take off their seatbelts and Bianca completely had crashed course after one Hallmark movie, some wine, a Sprite and one entire chocolate bar. She was quick to jump up before she felt completely lagged and dizzy, quickly sitting back down until the rest behind her had gotten their luggage and begun approaching the exit of the plane, cleaning her garbage before she tossed it and grabbed her carry on, absolutely bolting for the door as fast as possible knowing it was a good forty minutes in a regular car to make it to her new studio apartment for god knows how long, Courtney didn’t tell her a thing about it expect her cousin had hooked them up and leased it. Thanking the staff she quickly felt her entire body want to collapse and throw up, maybe both at the same time, on the rugged floor of LAX, turning her phone off airplane mode and turning on her date plan she had decided to buy the night before just so she could be ready and set for when she landed, knowing Courtney would throw a hissy fit if she wasn’t the first person she texted. Fingers gliding across her iPhone she grinned, I’m in fucking america! can’t wait to grab some damn takeout and just collapse, meeting someone to take me, call you probably whatever the next time I wake up is! She had done the math in her head, it was about 7:20 PM here but almost 2:20 AM in Brisbane, timezones were about to be hell on Earth but they would make it through. An absolute dumpster dive of suitcases later she had found both of her own luckily, now heading for the International Arrivals entrance, Bianca had only been to LAX recently and it was for Courtney’s tour, before that she hadn’t really cared for or visited California much, staying in her own bubble. It truly was the epicenter of an entire universe however, as far as crowded airports went, this one was definitely the winner! “Jinkx!” She shrieked to her auburn haired friend who quickly winced out of her own delusional fantasy and screamed, running towards her oldest friend and happy to have collapsed and almost blacked out in the one person who could understand what it was like to be sleepy and tired though Jinkx had explained a million times that narcolepsy was very different than what movies and shows showed it to be, it was just in very relaxing and quiet surroundings, when she wasn’t doing anything and wasn’t focused on a task. “I’m so tired but I don’t even care, it’s so great to see you—” Jinkx shaking her friend in her own arms happily before Bianca had to pull away, not wanting to cause a meltdown or throw up on the expensive sneakers she seemed to have on. Grabbing a suitcase much to her newly arrived childhood friend’s concern, “Let’s go, my car is parked and she’s all charger for the trip!” “I forgot you have a fucking electric car.” “It’s red to, it has a seat warmer! That’s the biggest perk but also you can program it to do some cool things, I only got the car recently, DeLa was begging me to—” the mention of her college roommate who was also from Seattle made Bianca realize how long she had actually been gone. “I hate to be an absolute prune the first ten minutes but can we please stop and eat if that’s okay, I don’t wanna eat in your car but fast food inside is fine by me, I texted everyone I need to so now I’m all yours and I’m sure traffic will delay us another fucking three hours.” Finishing her water she tossed the bottle as Jinkx almost smacked her across her back, causing Bianca to choke a bit. “You really think I won’t let you eat in my car! Jesus Christ, this isn’t our senior year of high school where I had to keep my car spotless, of course we will get food, since you’re in California now we have to start with the local favorite, ever had In N Out?” A stammer before a tilt of her head came, Jinkx gasping, “I can’t believe self proclaimed critic of food, Bianca Del Rio hasn’t even tried it, much less heard of it.” Cackling, Bianca raised a hand, “Now hold on you shady bitch!” They made their way to the wonderful Tesla after an influx of stop signs and people shoving to simply get out of the airport. Bianca was definitely impressed, she had seen the cars before but they weren’t her style, it was much more different to actually sit next to Jinkx who immediately pulled out of the car and had her music blasting before Bianca lowered it a bit so she and Jinkx could atleast have a conversation, the girl beside her seeming to know what to do and where to go from here. “You can type in your address after we go and get some food, so tell me about what it’s like down under, I’m sure you have some stories.” Smirking, Bianca relaxed into the leather seat and sighed in relief, leaving her phone to charge with her portable charger as she crossed her arms and stared out the front view with Jinkx who was barely even focused on driving given the fact she had the rules of driving out of LAX down, the clouds and sky beginning to turn into a wonderful assembly of warm colors mixed with a vibrant purple. “Well since you asked.”

[annakie]

So this past weekend I went to GenCon for the second time.

GenCon is the largest gaming convention in the world with about 70k individual attendees every year, held in Indianapolis, Indiana.  The first time I went was in 2009, with a friend from the internet, and it was a blast.  This time I went with a bunch of my everyday friends, some of my favoritest people in the world, and it was even more fun.

Part one of my long recap, including lots of pictures, below.

SOME PRE-GENCON NOTES

Our group does love boardgames, but we do RPGs (like D&D) together even more.  D&D actually doesn't have a very big presence at GenCon.  There was some D&D going on, but it isn't a main focus of the con and my friends aren't super into 5e anyway.  (We're actually doing a 4e game right now since it's one friend's favorite system.)  

So when we signed up for events, we were trying hard to get into a bunch of Pathfinder stuff, especially Pathfinder 2, which was releasing the first day of GenCon.  We got into two events, but ended up filling more slots with Starfinder.  None of us were particularly interested in Starfinder, which is a Sci-Fi setting also put out by Paizio... it was always like "Eh, we might check Starfinder out sometime maybe." but we weren't that excited about it.  But since we had gotten into two games to fill up some timeslots, we decided to go ahead and at least learn the system ahead of time for those of us who'd be playing in the SF games.

That would be Marcus, who is our DM most of the time when we play RPGs, Jeremy, and Brian, who is Marcus' oldest daughter's fiancee.  We created characters the week before GenCon and got together twice to knock out some beginning level adventures.

What we didn't expect, at all, was to fall head over heels into Starfinder.  Three of us ended up picking the same race (Lashunta, who are basically Mantis from GotG) and decided our characters were siblings, then decided so was Brian's character, even though he was a Vesk... a lizard-man race.  Jeremy's Operative (Space Rogue/Pilot/smuggler)Zafo is the oldest, my Envoy (space bard/doctor/xenobiologist/archeologist) Vikiri, and Marcus' Technomancer (Space Wizard/Computer whiz/K-pop rockstar) Alissia are twin sisters, and Brian's Soldier Kronk (Space Meatshield/Master Chef) is our baby brother.

We fucking LOVE these characters and the whole world of Starfinder, and also our dear Father and Mother, who we always strive to make proud of us.  Starfinder is really so much fun and we're running official modules as we're a part of the Organized Play Starfinder Society and they're... so good?   Anyway, here we are, playing Starfinder for like six hours the Thursday night before Gencon because that's the only day we could physically be in the same room. (the other time we played via Discord.)

WEDNESDAY

So anyway, then we actually went to Gencon!  Jeremy and I got flights together and rooms (separate) at the same hotel to make travel more convenient.  Everyone else, which was Marcus, wife Laura, daughters Gwen and  Kirstyn and Kirstyn friend Ally, and Gwen's fiancee Brian, drove.  14 hours from Dallas to Indy... Jeremy and I have talked about it for next year, we'll see.

I took Wednesday off to finish packing and relax, and then just before Jeremy came to pick me up, our flight got delayed two hours.  We decided we'd then have time for a leisurely lunch instead of fast food, and so we went to one of my favorite places to eat, a Canadian cafe.  The service was slower than expected, but we were still tracking to be at the airport about an hour before our original takeoff time, three before our “new” takeoff time.

And then... while we were driving to the airport... our flight got UN-DELAYED.  What.  The.  Fuck.  

Our leisurely afternoon turned hectic as we got to the airport as fast as possible then, I checked in our bags while Jeremy parked the car, got in line in Security, and oh nooo the line was long.  I started to get nervous about making the flight.  Apparently, we weren't the only people who had done the same thing.

We hoofed it through the airport, though and made it to the gate with like 5 minutes to spare until boarding, just enough time to take a bathroom break and get a bottle of water.  We got on the flight though!  And sat there.  And sat there. And... sat there.  And then got kicked off the plane for an electrical issue.  Then sat in the gate for an hour or so until another airplane arrived.  Turns out, our flight ended up being delayed... about two hours.

ANYWAY.  We made it, de-planed at Indy, collected our bags, taxied to the hotel.  We were staying at a Red Roof Inn outside of the airport area, we were trying to do this cheap and with each of us paying for a hotel room, staying near downtown wasn't an option.  $65/night for a hotel is a lot better than $200+/night for being closer, especially when you can split Lyft fares.  (Could have rented a car but we did the math... especially factoring in parking at $20-30 a day plus the hotel charging for parking... much cheaper to Lyft everywhere.)

After settling into the hotel we had to go to the convention center and get our tickets.  I had my badge mailed to me, but all events require tickets and Marcus had ordered all our tickets... and you have to pick up your tickets yourself.  The Will Call line at 10pm on Wednesday night was... an hour and fifteen minutes long.  So we waited in that.  Nothing particularly cool or terrible happened, but it's just one of those GenCon experiences.  This year apparently 15% of the events had electronic tickets.  Next year that's supposed to go up to 75%.  Let's hope so.  The GenCon provided Wifi was actually pretty good.

We headed back to the hotel afterwards and were both hungry again at this point, so we ate at the only available option... Waffle House... at like 12:30 at night.  Seemed like a good way to end our first night, as long as we didn't get food poisoning.

...which we did not. :p

THURSDAY

So another fun thing about GenCon this year that we found out a day or two earlier is that the entire freeway from the Airport to downtown was going to be closed all weekend.  Adding lots of time to our commute (and thus $ to our Lyft fares, but we still saved money.)  So we got up extra early, discovered how terrible our hotel's free breakfast was (very... most days I had a cold bagel with a scraping of cream cheese and if I was lucky, a banana) and got a Lyft into town.  Except it took 30 minutes to get a Lyft.  From then on, we scheduled them ahead of time.  

But HEY!  Eventually, we were there!  We found the room for our first game and met Brian and eventually Marcus outside.  Our first scheduled game was Star Wars, the Fantasy Flight Games system (which is now known as Genesys).  This is a system that Marcus ran Jeremy and I and other friends a 2+ year campaign in, so the three of us were very familiar with the rules.   Kirstyn and Ally also joined us, and Kirstyn had played it once before.

So I've mentioned before that Jeremy, Marcus and I go to a local con called GamerNation Con every year.  Two years ago the guest of honor was a guy named Sterling Hershey who is a well-known loremaster for Star Wars and helped write the SWFFG system.  We played in a game he ran that year.  Hilariously, Sterling was our GM for this game, as well.  It was a good way to kick off the weekend.

Jeremy played a Jedi and I was his Padawan, Ally and Brian played Clone soldiers ( the game took place in the Clone Wars era) Kirstyn played a shark-race diplomat and Marcus was her "get it done" operative type.  

Ally, Marcus and Brian.

The Table setup

Brian, Jeremy and Kirstyn

And of course, our DM.

Our next game was a 13th Age, with Marcus, Jeremy, Brian and I, plus two "new friends" and a DM who was very good at and familiar with the system.  We've been doing a 13th Age game as our "Main Game" for about a year, since our SWFFG game ended and like Starfinder, it's a system that we were all very skeptical about at first and have found ourselves LOVING.  

I really enjoyed this DM.  He did a lot to challenge us to roleplay, I think the only time we spend game time making up backgrounds for our characters and making any character creation choices.  (They were basically premades but he had us choose names and do some history stuff which only makes sense if you know 13th Age.)

 He did some really cool mechanics as well, like one that made travel interesting... one person would say something bad that happened in our journey and the next would say "But it was all okay, because..." and use that as a way to bring depth to the adventure.  Like one person said "It was bad when the owlbears attacked us..." and then I answered, "But it was all okay, because our supplies had been running low, and now we had plenty of meat to eat on the journey!"  Then I said "It was bad when we came across a village that had been wiped out by disease." and the next person said "But it was okay, because we learned a vital clue, and kept the disease from spreading!" and the DM gave us a clue about what was coming up.

I played a Bard in this game.... okay the thing is, I love playing bards.  Support classes in general, but I always have to pull myself away from the urge to play a bard.  But there were only a couple of character sheets left when they came around and Marcus wanted to play a wizard so I did bard.  Apparently, Bard is one of most complex classes in the game, and the DM said I did great.  We were 5th level (out of 10) so they were already pretty in-depth characters.  We're only level 3 in our campaign at home, so it was fun to see how powerful we'd become.

Also what I love about 13th Age is that the world is just... weird.  You think that Anything Can Happen in D&D but honestly, the world of 13th Age is just so much broader and weirder and it was fun to see this DM's interpretation of it.  One of my favorite games of the con.

Our fighter, Jeremy the Monk and Brian the Barbarian.

Marcus, our rogue, and the DM.

So that night, we had had a 3-hour break scheduled then were supposed to go to Lucas Oil to play the Call of Cthulu board game that night.  But then Jeremy and I had been talking the night before and were thinking... maybe we could play more Starfinder.

We'd been planning on going to the Nerd Night (which is a thing where you go and play games plus support a charity with donations) to fill in those hours, so we asked Marcus if he'd mind skipping the board game so we could spend those hours doing Starfinder at NN instead.  He gave in.

So we stopped and got some dinner at a food truck (had a pretty good burger and fries, we were starving since we'd just had whatever snacks we had brought with us for lunch) and then it took a little bit of time but we found Nerd Night, which was held in a hotel that had turned an old train station into a ballroom.  It was very cool.  After eating, resting, drinking lots of water, and doing some Starfinder Society paperwork, we got to work on Starfinder, finding a quiet table in the corner away from everyone to play at.  And the module was SO FUN, our characters were on a reality-competition game show in order to bring glory to the Starfinder Society (and our family).  And then a loud group of people decided to pick the table RIGHT NEXT TO US in an empty side- room to play their loud game at (seriously... wtf?  THERE WERE AT LEAST A DOZEN OTHER TAbLES NOT NEXT TO US TO PICK!) so we packed up and moved to another corner, that was actually quieter and not as cold.

Then they kicked us out of Nerd Night at around 12:30, after it had closed.  So we walked back to the ICC (Indiana Convention Center) and found a near-empty food court, pushed some tables together... and kept gaming.  Until like, after 2AM.  

We didn't officially finish the module yet but we were kicking so much ass that we had basically won it already anyway.

So yeah... back to the hotel... asleep by um... three?

The actual quiet corner table.

The Empty Food Court setup

FRIDAY, PART ONE

So the next morning everyone but me did True Dungeon, meeting at 10am.  I bowed out because my back was too fucked up to stand for that long.  It was a hard decision, but the right one for me.  Instead, I spent a little bit of time shopping in the dealer hall, taking sit-down breaks against the wall when needed, and decided on what I'd want to buy later.  Mostly I just went to three booths and peeked at a few more.

After a short hangout break, I went to a lecture I'd had my eye on anyway, all about Eberron (one of the "official" D&D worlds) by the actual creator of Eberron, Keith Baker.  This was definitely my hidden gem of the weekend. He took a bunch of questions BEFORE the panel started that he jotted down and answered in his talk, which I thought was a great way of doing it, and still had time for more questions at the end.  All the questions were also great, I thought, in contrast to a lot of con panels.  I really enjoyed what he had to say, not only about Eberron, which is probably my favorite of all the official D&D worlds, but about worldbuilding in general.  It was only an hour, but it was an hour well spent.  There were only about 100 people there but I hope he enjoyed the panel as much as I enjoyed attending.

Afterwards, it was time to meet back up with the guys for my first of four games in the Paizo room.  First up: STARFINDER!  

We'd tried valiantly, but had only barely made it to level two with our SFS characters, so we each picked a premade "iconic" character who was the same class as our own, and re-skinned them to just say they were our characters.  The module was pretty cool, dealing with a world that was a simulation that the inhabitants believed was real.  I was a little frustrated with the DM at one point but otherwise had a very fun game.

This is the only pic I took of that game, damnit. And this was because my mom texted and said to tell the guys hi, so I sent this back to her.

And after that game... I parted ways with my friends once again.  Because I had tickets... to Critical Role.

Okay this post is already really long, I'll finish up in a second post! Which I've already gotten a good chunk of written, so look for that later tonight or tomorrow night!