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stvpidinlove · 3 years ago

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[ OLIVIA HOLT, SHE/HER, CIS WOMAN ] — [ REGAN MORGAN ] is a child of [ MORPHEUS ] with the power of [ PRECOGNITIVE DREAMING ] . they were born in [ 1995 ] and have been in nemean lion since [ 2019 ] . with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ] the [ AMBASSADOR ] role which makes sense since they’re usually [ SCROLLING HER CURSED TIKTOK FYP & CONFUSING HER FOLLOWERS ON TWITTER ] . if you’d like to meet them try the [ MOON ] building .

tl;dr she’s a deranged menace to society

BASICS

hometown: milford, pennsylvania

eye color: brown

hair color: blonde

height: 5��3

sexuality: bisexual

birthday: january 19, 1995 ( capricorn )

BIO

regan’s mother was never the type to settle down. before meeting morpheus, her longest relationship had been three months. so when the guy seemed commitment-phobic, that was perfect for her. until, of course, she found out she was pregnant. she didn’t want to get married but she was at an age where the idea of motherhood...didn’t repulse her. so she wanted to keep the baby, at which point the father of her child didn’t get down on one knee, he started to explain the kinds of responsibilities she’d face as the mother of his child.

having the child of a god in her womb inflated her ego, which was pretty impressive considering how big it already was. see, regan’s mother was a southern belle without any of the class or manners. she’d breezed through the pageant circuit as a teen, winning a number of titles with minimal effort. her talent was essentially crying on demand and looking pretty while doing it. knowing she’d slept with a god, like an honest to...god felt sort of fitting. like, duh, who else would she have her first child with?

this also led to a brief but intense fixation with shakespeare, who name dropped gods like it was his job, which led to her choosing the name regan from king lear.

she moved to pennsylvania with regan when her daughter was only four years old, because some guy practically begged her to let him take care of her, and she had nowhere better to go. until, eventually, she did, thanks to the world of avon. her mother started selling out of boredom but then it turned out she was good at it, so good that she could easily buy a place once she got bored of her rich boyfriend, and move out with regan.

thankfully, her mother got out of the pyramid scheme before she got in too deep. she was hired by an actual, reputable cosmetics company and given a desk job to work in sales, which she was still a natural at. because she had a full time job now, regan spent a lot of time with nannies...and that’s nannies plural because regan was one of those kids who drove her caretakers to quit on a regular basis.

but not because she was a handful. she was pretty self-sufficient, actually, and totally well-behaved, she was just kind of...weird. she’d leave her room for dinner with all of her clothes suddenly on backwards and say nothing as if it was normal and act confused when her nanny asked about it. she’d stare at the tv when it was off, she’d spend one day only speaking in whispers, she’d write vaguely threatening messages on the mirror with her mother’s red lipstick.

all of this was because regan knew it was scary to adults, which made it fun for her. she wasn’t, like, actually disturbed. well, aside from the dreams she had sometimes. she’d have a dream about a baby bird falling from a nest, she’d watch its chest move for minutes before it died, then she’d wake up the next day and find a dead bird outside the sliding glass doors to the backyard.

for a while she thought they were coincidences. then she thought she was making things happen in her sleep, and that it was her job to stop bad things from happening, to save every baby bird that asked for help in her dreams. it took her a few years to accept that just because she sometimes saw the future didn’t mean she had any power to change it. she was warned so she could prepare herself, which only made her feel more powerless.

but being regan, she chose to cope with this aspect of her life with avoidance and humor. she doesn’t want to pick and choose what she worries about and what she doesn’t, so she decided a long time ago not to take anything seriously.

for reasons unknown, regan’s mother actually decided to have another child after regan. but she was unconventional, too, hence regan being...the way she is, so she never actually married the father of regan’s half-brother, but they have been together for the past 15 years, so.

her brother is eleven years younger than she is, so in regan’s mind, a baby. whenever left with the task of babysitting him while the two were growing up, it would be regan who suggested ice cream for breakfast and sock sliding around the living room at dangerous speeds.

RANDOM FACTS

i want to v*mit saying this but.....she’s kind of like........the female version of stevesuptic. except for she’s cute <3

her entire twitch account is kind of satirical, like it’s very hard to gauge what her actual personality is. i don’t think her viewers bully her the way they bully steve bc she would bully them back LMAO but they ask her a lot of random ass super weird sometimes borderline disturbing questions and she answers them like it’s normal

she def has weird/creepy drawings whenever playing gartic phone tho /:

ig you could say her channel is like shit posting but make it a streamer. she has a really nice set up and she always looks made up in her streams but then the content is her playing like a cat dating sim for four hours

she’s actually pretty shit at most games that require any level of skill and her following comes entirely from her personality and her Brand ig, she’s just entertaining to watch bc she says and does the most ??? things. like she’s not a gamer girl and doesn’t say she is she just has a twitch and plays games for the attention

also she has a cat named muffintop (best part of the muffin, not the offensive term for a woman’s stomach, though she will say that’s what it means if someone asks) who she regularly posts memes of and like most of her twitch emotes are her cat. you can find examples on her pinterest board lmao

i think it’s pretty hard to get an actual vision out of regan? she mostly keeps those to herself and just lies about her dreams. she’ll just be like, “yeah actually i had a dream you were gonna choke on some oatmeal so stay safe out there.” she’s also only partially sure when a dream is actually about the future.

her like <3 symbol that represents her is butterflies, she has a ton of butterfly shit

POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS

idk if i am requesting a roommate for once, idk if i wanna subject anyone to that

someone naive who believes her any time she says something is Going To Happen, no matter how stupid it is and no matter how many times things simply do not happen??

a bestie because...............................i just feel like she wormed her way into someone’s inner circle and they’re just stuck with her now

#idek how to describe her so this is not helpful actually #nlintro #𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴𝙳 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 ( 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 ) * regan #this is such a fever dream

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officialbillhader · 5 years ago

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Pool Boy (Macdennis)

Prompt: 80s AU where Dennis is a high power businessman and in a loveless marriage with his perfect wife Mandy, they live in a perfect mansion with their perfect children until Dennis gets feelings for their white trash pool cleaner with the beautiful brown eyes and bird that won’t quit. Fic is Notsfw! The nonsfw part is at the end. It also deals with cheating. Posted as chapter 17 of Now That I Found You (but it can be read as a stand alone). – “What’re the names of your family?” Frank points to the framed photo on his desk.

Dennis thinks he should know by now considering they’ve been working together for a few years, but he digresses. Frank’s the type of dude to be petty enough to demote or fire Dennis for pointing that out.

“Wife is Mandy and the two children are Brian and Samantha."

"Gorgeous family, huh?"

"Oh, yeah. I’m very happy. Now, about the presentation tomorrow…”

***

It’s a fucking lie. He’s not happy, he hasn’t been happy since Mandy first got pregnant and all emotional and needy and suddenly he was expected to be a good husband and a good dad. Then Mandy got pregnant again and she was beyond excited but Dennis only became unhappier having to take care of a toddler and a pregnant wife, then a toddler and a baby, then he got his promotion and Dennis had them moved into a mansion just because they had the money to and it was easier to avoid his family in a bigger space.

While all this happened, it was obvious that Mandy stopped loving him as much as he stopped loving her. She stopped trying to have sex, stopped trying to cuddle, stopped trying to talk about her day and his day. There’s a gap in the middle of their bed now, one that’s cold and unwrinkled.

Now, he stays at work for as long as possible, working overtime each and every week, happiest when he comes home after dinner and the kids are already in bed. He’ll sit on the couch and drink beer until he knows Mandy is in their bed asleep, then he’ll go to bed. Sometimes Mandy will join him on the couch and give him updates about the house, but usually he ignores her until she goes away.

Tonight is one of those nights. She plops down on the opposite side of the couch from him, her own beer in hand. He half-assedly greets her, then they’re silent for a long moment, staring at the TV, neither really watching it.

Eventually, Mandy pipes up. “I hired a new pool cleaner. He’s coming on Saturday, but I’m going to be gone. Can you show him where the pool is?"

Dennis grunts an agreement. "What time?"

"Around nine, I think."

"Okay.”

“Alright, well, I’m gonna go to bed, then. Goodnight, Dennis.” She doesn’t try to kiss him as she leaves. She stopped doing that long ago.

***

Saturday comes. Mandy wakes him up around eight, before she leaves, and reminds him to greet the pool cleaner. He doesn’t make any type of vocal response, but he also doesn’t go back to sleep. He gets up, takes a shower, gets dressed, then goes to the kitchen, only to find Samantha with her nanny. She yells out to him excitedly and runs towards him, being swooped into his arms with a hug.

He loves his children. He truly does. But they don’t make him happy and they’re exhausting and if there’s one thing he’s learned in his life it’s that love can only go so far.

Still, he ends up spending time with Samantha until he hears a knock on the front door and sends her back with her nanny. She protests, saying she wants to stay with him, but he doesn’t let her. Claims he has work to do, but, really, if he wanted to stay with her, he’d be able to.

He answers the door at the third time the bell is rung. He means to tell the pool boy off for being impatient, but his voice gets caught in his throat the moment he sees him.

The pool boy is, surprisely, very attractive. He’s built well, he has soft eyes, a strong chin, floppy hair. He isn’t covered in dirt either, like Dennis subconsciously expected him to be. No, he’s actually quite clean and well groomed. Even his beard is trimmed exactly to fit his face shape.

“Sir?” Pool Boy says, concern on his face, and Dennis realizes Pool Boy’s been talking the entire time he’s been checking him out.

“Oh, yeah– the pool,” he snaps out of it. “Follow me."

***

Dennis watches Pool Boy work. It’s easy to do, after all. He sits out on the porch, lets the sun tan his skin, gets up and grabs a beer occasionally, and he watches as Pool Boy, well, cleans the pool.

It’s a hard job. Mandy had fired their last pool cleaner back in the fall and hadn’t bothered to get a new one until now that it’s almost summer, so the pool never got any of the winter chemicals in it and was never drained of some of its water. It just sat, growing algea, for almost three whole seasons. Really, it needs to be entirely drained and scrubbed, but that’s for Pool Boy to figure out and do, not Dennis.

Right now he seems to be waiting as the pool drains water, looking at all his chemicals in the meantime and comparing them.

Dennis finishes his third beer of the morning, afternoon, whatever. When he gets up to get another one, he figures he might as well offer Pool Boy some water or a beer or something. He calls out to him and Pool Boy nearly jumps out of his skin, running his head in circles before he finds the source of the sound.

"Do you want anything to drink?” Dennis asks.

Pool Boy seems hestitant to answer at first, then he seems to get over his nerves. “Can I have some water, Mr. Reynolds?” he requests.

“Please, call me Dennis."

Dennis can just barely see Pool Boy nod his head.

***

"Thank you, Mr. Dennis.” He takes the bottle from him and drinks it down halfway, obviously a lot thirstier than he was willing to let on.

Dennis wants to tell him that just Dennis is fine, but he doesn’t. It suddenly doesn’t seem worth it, not when Mr. Dennis makes his stomach do a flip like he’s a school girl.

Dennis doesn’t leave when he should, which happens to be right after he gives Pool Boy the water. No, he sticks around, and he makes it awkward, and then he makes it even more awkward when he clears his throat, utters a goodbye to Pool Boy, then turns on his heel and leaves.

***

He wasn’t awkward around Mandy. He wooed her like he wooed any other female, the only difference being that this time he was out of college and had the expectation of marriage and children placed on him, especially by his mother, who saw it as a fact of life that Dennis would grow up and give her grandchildren. Dennis knew she never actually cared much for grandchildren, she just cared about what grandchildren meant for her in society. That she’s not behind all her other rich friends, that she’s worthy of grandchildren, whatever.

She died before she could meet Brian. She never even saw Mandy get pregnant. Not that Dennis cared, really, but it did kind of ruin the whole experience of giving his mom grandchildren.

And it made him realize that he’s not sure if he ever actually loved Mandy in the first place. He loved the idea of having a wife, of having children, of giving his mom grandchildren, of having children before his sister, and he tricked himself into believing he loved Mandy, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy to marry her, and he tricked himself into believing he was happy when Brian was born, when Samantha was born. He tricked himself into loving Mandy, really, loving her until the well went dry and he couldn’t love her anymore, for one reason or another.

He thinks she loved him. He did woo her, after all. He got her to say yes. He got her to get pregnant twice. He knows she doesn’t love him anymore, though. It’s obvious with everything they do. He’s surprised she hasn’t moved to one of the vacant guest rooms in the house, or made him move.

He doesn’t know where their relationship is heading. A divorce, most likely, one as messy as his parent’s divorce, one that’s going to traumatize his children like his parent’s divorce traumatized him and his sister, but he can’t bring himself to care. The moment he cares, the moment it will seem real. The moment he cares, the moment he knows he fucked up his life by getting down one on knee and smiling when she said yes.

***

It’s really easy to watch Pool Boy, Dennis learns. Pool Boy is here every weekend and only the weekends because apparently he has some other job over the week, which Dennis is fine with, because he’s only home during the weekends anyway.

Pool Boy knows that Dennis is watching him because Dennis brings him a new bottle of water every time he finishes one. He doesn’t mention it, only thanks him, makes small talk, then goes back to his work and Dennis goes back to the deck. The pattern repeats until Pool Boy finishes for the day. It goes on for weeks.

To Dennis’s dismay, the pool is getting cleaner and cleaner with each passing weekend. Of course, the pool always needs new chemicals and always needs to be vacuumed, so Pool Boy’s job is never actually over, but, once the pool is clean, there’s no reason for him to spend the whole day at the house. He’ll only have to come over every Saturday, check the chemical levels, do what needs to be done, then leave.

So as the weekends dwindle, Dennis starts to slip Pool Boy tips along with the water bottles, which Pool Boy takes without a word. Dennis sees it as an incentive for Pool Boy not to forget about him, but Pool Boy does what Dennis doesn’t expect.

Pool Boy starts to tease him.

The teasing starts miniscule. The shirt he wears is tighter, subtly showing off his muscles, and he isn’t as adamant on pulling up his shorts when they ride down his hips, and he doesn’t care much about getting wet.

It’s killing Dennis. Pool Boy was attractive dressed decently, let alone this. He doesn’t know how much more he can take before he pounces.

***

Pool Boy takes off his shirt today, which is enough to send Dennis feral, but then he makes eye contact with him, and he fucking winks. No shame to it, just a clear as day wink.

Then he goes back to working as if he did nothing.

Dennis tries to make himself believe that he didn’t actually see the wink, but he can’t. He knows what he saw. He knows that he’s being flirted with like there’s no tomorrow, like he’s not married.

At the end of the day, when he goes to ask Pool Boy how much longer it’ll be before the pool is ready, he slips a hundred-dollar bill in his hand.

***

Mandy knows he spends the weekends outside. She can tell when the freckles on his shoulders come out, he can tell when his skin becomes three shades darker. She can tell when she doesn’t find him on a couch in a room hidden from the children, TV on, beer in his head, eyes glazed over.

When she finds where he’s been hanging out outside, just on the deck, no less, she knows what he’s doing. She finds the Pool Boy attractive herself.

She didn’t know her husband swung that way, though.

She’s hurt, of course, her husband is staring at a man behind her back, but what is she going to do about it? Throw a fit, get the children involved, go stay with her mother? She knows what she got into a year after marrying Dennis. She figured out quickly that she would never be treated right while she was with him. She did nothing about it then and she does nothing about it now.

She lets him have his weekends with the pool boy.

***

Pool Boy is fucking killing him.

He’s stayed faithful in his marriage, but he can’t anymore. Not with how Pool Boy looks at him when Dennis hands over the water, sultry eyes, sweat shining on his forehead, dry kissable lips. Not with how Pool Boy never wears a shirt anymore, not with how he seems to have forgotten his underwear, not with how he has a package that he doesn’t mind Dennis looking at.

Dennis can see it because he’s moved much closer to the pool than the deck. He’s still not at the pool, per se, but he’s only a few feet from it. He brought out a chair and set it up on the grass and he leaves it out, told the gardeners to not touch it, so it’s always there, ready for him.

The sun is hot today so Pool Boy is going through more water than he normally does, but that’s okay because Dennis has long since kept a cooler filled with beer and water by his feet.

The next time Dennis gives Pool Boy a bottle of water, his hand lingers. It’s hot against Dennis’s hand and the condensated bottle. Their eyes meet. The sexual tension builds up farther than it’s ever been so far, and Dennis panics. He clutches down on the bottle, feeling all the air push at the lid, threatening to make it pop off.

“Mr. Dennis,” Pool Boy mumbles.

“Yes?” Dennis responds. His grip on the bottle doesn’t loosen.

“Can you let go of the bottle?”

Dennis snaps out of it. His hand falls by his side and dangles uselessly and suddenly he’s more embarrassed than he should be. He can feel his cheeks start to warm up and he hopes that Pool Boy will just think that the heat is getting to him.

Pool Boy smiles, drinks some of the water, then places it on the ground by his feet. He turns around and gestures at the pool.

“It’s gotten pretty clean, huh, Mr. Dennis?”

“Yeah,” Dennis responds numbly, because he’s not looking at the pool. He’s looking at the way Pool Boy’s muscles twitch and move as he moves his arm and shoulder, how sweat makes the tan skin shine.

Dennis has always liked how smooth a woman’s back is, has never paid much attention to what the muscles look like when they’re defined, but as he looks at Pool Boy, he can’t even picture what a woman’s back looks like. Sure, he likes Mandy’s back, wouldn’t have married her if there was something he didn’t like about her body, but him liking Pool Boy’s back feels difference. It feels much more natural to like his back, like he isn’t trying to foce himself to like something he simply can’t.

He shakes those thoughts away. Too heavy.

“It should be done in another week or two."

Dennis’s heart speeds up. "No!” he yells out before he can stop himself. Pool Boy turns and looks at him with wide eyes and Dennis has to restrain himself from fidgeting. “Sorry, I meant– it doesn’t look too clean does it?"

Pool Boy gives it a once over, then looks at Dennis like he’s crazy.

"I’ve scrubbed the whole thing, Mr. Dennis. It’s almost sparkling."

Yeah, it is. Dennis clears his throat.

He doesn’t know what’s happening. He’s always been smooth and relaxed around anyone he’s ever wanted to sleep with. He was even smooth and relaxed when he proposed to Mandy. How he’s acting now is unlike him and, frankly, upsetting.

"I guess,” he hesitates. “I guess, just, go home early. Take the rest of the day off."

Pool Boy has concern written over his face. His cheeks are pink and it must be because of the heat, not because Dennis is doing a good job flirting.

"Really, Mr. Dennis?"

"Really."

Pool Boy has good teeth, Dennis notices.

***

He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. After sending Pool Boy home, he took a hot shower and he changed into clean clothes and he most certaintly avoided thinking about shirtless Pool Boy.

Now he sits on his couch and he waits for whoever-the-fuck cooks dinner for him and his fanily to come tell him that there’s food, only for him to respond that he doesn’t want to eat, partly because he doesn’t like eating and partly because he doesn’t want to see his family.

If he could, he’d walk out of this life right now and carve a new one with Pool Boy.

But he can’t.

He shouldn’t be so nervous around him. He shouldn’t shake and hesitate and stutter. Really, he’s Pool Boy’s superior. So what if he’s attractive? So what if he allows Dennis to escape this life he hates? So what if Dennis wants to wrap his arms around his waist and feel his floppy brown hair at his neck as his lips travel down? So what about any of it?

It all feels different. Less out of Dennis’s control than ever.

***

Mac knows that what he’s doing is wrong. He knows he shouldn’t be flirting with a married man. But he also knows he can’t stop.

It’s easy. Mr. Dennis eats it up and purposely eggs him on, whether he knows he does it or not. Although, he definitely knew what he was doing when he started slipping Mac money.

Mac felt dirty once that started. He told himself he’d stop his flirting. That went to shit the moment he saw Mr. Dennis the next day. Mr. Dennis wasn’t wearing one of his long-sleeved button ups and jeans, no, he was wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and basketball shorts. It made sense considering it had gone up fifteen degrees over night, but still unexpected. Even more unexpected was Dennis’s unstyled curls. Up until that point he had slicked back his hair, but along with his more relaxed outfit, his hair was also relaxed. He looked even more gorgeous like that.

So without much thought, Mac started to tease him. And he had fun doing it. He liked seeing how Mr. Dennis had to tear his eyes away everytime Mac looked at him. He liked the lingering hand touches and the subconscious lick lipping.

It made him feel good, no matter how bad he’d feel the moment his eye caught the sun’s reflection off Mr. Dennis’s wedding ring. No matter how many times he got home and went through the week and told himself like a mantra that he wouldn’t flirt anymore, he still did it.

And it became worse. His ability to not flirt, that is.

The first time he took off his shirt, he cursed himself for it.

And then he winked at Mr. Dennis and somehow it was worse and better all at once. He felt justified for taking off his shirt when he saw the blush spread across Mr. Dennis’s cheeks, when he averted his eyes. He probably doesn’t think Mac saw it, but he saw Mr. Dennis adjust his pants.

At the end of the day, Mr. Dennis gives him a hundred dollars. He keeps it because it helps him pay the bills, but he doesn’t feel good about it.

Most of the time, he confesses his sins. He goes to the church and he kneels in the pews until his knees hurt and he keeps his hands clasped together until they’re sore and he repeats his sins until they don’t feel real.

But the cycle repeats.

***

He doesn’t let go of the water bottle. He can’t. At this point, it’d seem like a crime to do so. Pool Boy looks at him with wide, blown eyes. Their fingers are touching and while Dennis’s are soft, Pool Boy’s are rough and calloused.

"I…” Dennis starts, then stops. He licks his lips and Pool Boy watches him as he does it.

“Yeah,” Pool Boy says.

Dennis hates that he’s hard. He has no reason to be hard. He’s been touching Pool Boy’s hand for weeks now, so what’s so different about this moment?

Everything is different about this moment.

Dennis leans in. Pool Boy lets him. Their eyes meet, then their lips. It’s sudden, but not surprising. He knew it was coming when he first looked at Pool Boy. He knew their relationship would build until it couldn’t anymore and then it’d snap and they’d be doing things that they shouldn’t be doing.

Dennis lets the water bottle fall to the ground and he wraps his arms around Pool Boy’s waist and pulls him closer. Pool Boy lets out a moan of surprise, but he falls into the gesture easily. Dennis knows he can feel his hard on through his shorts, but he doesn’t care. Let Pool Boy know how he feels. Besides, Pool Boy doesn’t pull back. In fact, he deepens the kiss, apparentally just as excited as Dennis is to do… whatever it is their doing.

They’re gonna have sex, Dennis decides.

He breaks the kiss and tugs on Pool Boy’s wrist. “Follow me,” he says, and Pool Boy does.

They end up in one of the rooms in the guest house. Dennis is pretty sure he’s never even been to this part of the house, but Mandy had made sure all the bedrooms had beds when they bought the house. He thinks she hired some furnishing company, but he doesn’t remember.

Once they enter the room, Pool Boy hestitates in the door. He looks nervous, he twiddles his thumbs and bites his lip.

Honestly, he looks adorable.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Dennis? You’re married.” His eyes flick to Dennis’s wedding band, and suddenly the ring is burning his skin. He twists the ring off and throws it across the room to who-knows-where.

“Yes. I want to do this.” His lips meet Pool Boy’s again, slow and soft and chaste. Pool Boy returns the kiss. He lets go and rests his forehead on Pool Boy’s. “I haven’t loved Man–”

“I don’t want to know her name,” Pool Boy interrupts.

“Okay. I haven’t loved her in years. I’m making this decision, not you. Don’t worry,” Dennis says, softly. Pool Boy relaxes and initiates the next kiss. All doubts seem to leave his mind after Dennis’s words and he pushes Dennis towards the bed, taking small steps until the back of Dennis’s knees hit the edge of the bed. He folds down on the bed and Mac climbs on top of him, kissing all the while.

Dennis breaks apart to take off his shirt and scoot to the head board. He beckons Pool Boy back over to him with a hand gesture and Pool Boy happily scrambles back to lavish his body. Dennis thinks he’s going to come back to his lips, but, no, he goes to his neck and starts kissing and sucking on it, sending shivers down Dennis’s body. He can’t remember the last time he had sex, and he’s not sure it’s ever felt this electrifying before.

He lets Pool Boy stay at his neck for a few seconds, but he doesn’t want any marks, so he gently pushes his head away and he captures his lips once Pool Boy looks at him to see what’s wrong.

“No marks,” he whispers against Pool Boy’s lips.

“Okay,” he responds.

Dennis delicately kisses the side of Pool Boy’s mouth and absolutely melts when he feels Pool Boy let out a small puff of air, a quiet whine buried underneath.

“How do you want to do this, baby boy?"

"Maybe I could suck you off?"

Dennis smiles, puts his hands on Pool Boy’s back, lets him feel the smooth skin. "Of course,” he says.

He lets his hand float above his back as Pool Boy lowers himself down to Dennis’s crotch, taking breaks as he goes down to pay attention to Dennis’s bare chest. He’s careful to leave no marks, but the butterfly kisses are still enough to send Dennis’s stomach flipping.

Pool Boy mouths over his hard cock, still in the basketball shorts. The only saving grace is he’s not wearing any underwear, but, still, he’s desperate to get the show on the road. His hips buck up a few inches and it makes Pool Boy dig his fingers into the curve of Dennis’s hips to help keep him still.

“C'mon, Mac,” Dennis whines. The name slips out. He doesn’t know where it comes from, or if it’s right, but, at the name, Pool Boy pulls down Dennis’s basketball shorts until they’re resting just under his cock, letting it spring out.

Dennis decides Mac is the right name. He must have read it on some name tag or something.

He ignores the fact that he knows Mac never wore a name tag.

Mac takes Dennis’s cock in his hand and he keeps it in his fist as he takes his balls in his mouth. His other hand is back on Dennis’s hip and his fingertips are digging into the thin flesh there, and it starts to hurt, but Dennis doesn’t care. He had forgotten how good it feels to have a mouth on him, hot and wet and enthusiastic.

It takes everything in him to not choke Mac with his cock. Absolutely everything.

Soon enough, Mac takes his hand away from his shaft and begins to dig into his other hip just as hard, but Dennis still doesn’t care because now Mac’s mouth is on the tip of his cock. He kisses down it, starting on the head and going down until he reaches the base. Slowly, way too slowly, he starts to put the entire thing in his mouth.

When he gets halfway down, Dennis groans out his name and he wraps his hands in Mac’s greasy hair and he tugs. He’s hestitant at first, but Mac doesn’t pull off and tell him to stop, so he takes it as a good sign. He helps ease Mac the rest of the way down until he’s deepthroating him and Mac must have had practice before because he’s doing it so smoothly.

A flair of jealousy shoots through him as he thinks about all the other men Mac’s been with. He pushes Mac down farther until he’s almost choking, until Dennis can feel the back of his throat flexing against him, and he’s not sure he’s ever felt anything more satisfying. He holds him there for a moment, but then Mac’s grip on his hips tightens and he lets him go. Mac pulls off and starts to cough while taking deep breaths. There are tears in his eyes.

Dennis expects to be yelled at, but it doesn’t come. Mac calms down and is right back on him and Dennis absolutely groans.

Mac’s tongue can work wonders, Dennis learns. He doesn’t need to be deepthroated to feel this good. All he needs is Mac’s tongue.

It isn’t long before his hips are twitching and his stomach is burning and he’s uttering a warning to Mac before Mac pulls off and lets Dennis cum over his face. Even as Dennis is finishing, Mac is licking his cock through the twitches, not caring where the cum is landing.

When Dennis is coherent enough after his orgasm, he is pulling Mac’s face to his own and he’s kissing him as hard as he possibly can, teeth clacking together and his own cum spreading from Mac’s face to his as well. He doesn’t care. All he cares about is Mac tastes like him and he tastes amazing, especially off of Mac’s lips.

“How do you want to finish, baby boy?” he whispers against Mac’s cheek, then licks a bit of the cum off there. He feels Mac shiver.

“Just touch me, Mr. Dennis."

Mac calling him Mr. Dennis while still covered in his release sends his stomach rolling.

Mac has been rolling his hips across Dennis’s thigh this whole time, desperately searching for friction, but Dennis calmly tells him to stop and rubs his back in comfort. Mac whimpers, but does as he’s told.

"So good for me,” Dennis mumbles.

“Good for you,” Mac repeats.

Dennis grips Mac’s ass cheeks through his pants, then he brings his hands back up and gently pulls his pants down past his ass. He doesn’t care to take them fully off in the same way Mac didn’t care to get his off.

Besides, he was right about Mac not wearing underwear. It makes it all easier.

He’s quick to get Mac’s cock in his hand, doesn’t daddle before he’s rubbing his hot palm in circles over the head. Mac is much noisier than he was and much more desperate, apparentally getting off just by pleasuring Dennis.

That’s hot.

It doesn’t take much finesse to get Mac to finish all over Dennis’s stomach. His body jerks and he moans and he holds himself up with shaky muscles.

When he’s done, he collapses, his head on Dennis’s chest. He’s breathing heavily, but so is Dennis. The air is hot and reeks of sex. They’re both covered in sweat.

Dennis cards his hands back into Mac’s hair and he starts to play with it. Mac relaxes into the touch, letting a sigh come out.

They’re quiet for a long time and Mac is almost asleep when Dennis speaks up.

“There’s a bathroom down the hall. There’s no toiletries, but we can at least wash off."

"Mhm,” Mac responds against his chest.

***

Mac leaves and confesses his sins right after.

Mandy sees the bruises on Dennis’s hips but says nothing about it.

Dennis waits for the next time Pool Boy comes over.

#ap's fics #macdennis #dennis reynolds #mac mcdonald #it's always sunny in Philadelphia #iasip #it's been so long since I've posted a full length fic on tumblr holy shit #awesomepie3221

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callme--starchild · 5 years ago

Text

Observer

If enough attention was paid to each Duck triplet, it was remarkable that, while together they were a recognizable team, independents had their own strengths.

The triplet dressed in red was intelligent and temperamental. You constantly saw her in the public library, writing in her guidebook or accompanying her Woodchuck troop. It is who mostly participates in classes.

The triplet dressed in blue was the energetic, theater kid. You constantly saw him in the school plays or surrounded by people both in the classroom and in the cafeteria. It is who, in turn, participates more in P.E.

And the triplet dressed in green was schematic and greedy. You constantly saw him in the halls with his cellphone, chatting with students in a discreet attempt to defraud them or simply observing his surroundings parsimoniously. He's the most relaxed, but who had the highest average in math.

It could be said that Dahlia always knew what to say — unless she should lie, of course. Dewford always knew when to act.

On the other hand, Llewellyn always knew how to act.

He didn't know if he went oblivious or they just ignored him, but the occasions when he looked up from his cellphone or while scribbling in his notebook were not meaningless. Maybe it gave a lazy perspective on him, but that didn't mean he didn't do anything unlike his brothers.

Well, not always.

Because yes, each triplet had its own virtue. Louie's, however, was discreet.

And he was the observer.

Of course, all three had sharp eyes; but by not focusing on an extracurricular activity, he could focus on certain aspects that his siblings don't.

For example, how Dollie was uncomfortable when they highlighted her masculine features — which, by the way, were still not very noticeable as they still did not enter puberty — and how her shoulders tensed, trying to keep calm so that a outburst didn't get her in trouble with the teachers.

Until it turned out and, of course, it ended up in Uncle Donald arguing with the headmaster for allowing teasing and insults towards his niece.

Or how Dewey watched his arm during the exams, believing himself to be subtle enough. He never said anything in defense of his brother. Sometimes he was discovered, sometimes not, but that allowed his older brother to maintain good grades, at least within the average.

Or how stressed Donald looked day to day.

And that technically was the most unnoticed, so Louie was surprised to be able to visualize it because, as notorious as it was, his uncle commonly tried not to prove it, much less in front of them.

But the more he grew, the more obvious it was, and the harder it was for him to keep quiet about it.

Four-years-old. The nights when he woke up due to a nightmare and went to seek comfort in his uncle's arms, he stopped in his steps when he not saw him in his room and, instead, saw him in the dining room with a calculator, a notebook and several papers surrounding him. Some had words written in red, words whose meaning would be sure he would look for the next morning with support from his brother, but he knew they should be important if they kept him up late at night. His nightshirt looked wrinkled and his feathers scruffy.

While that was the first time he saw him in that state, it certainly wasn't the last, always hidden on the stairs.

Anyway, whatever kept his father figure occupied did not allow him to see that one of the ducklings was awake.

"Each time they are more indebted, and I can't ask for help from... it would be one more." Donald muttered every night, and Louie never understood how the sentence ended, or who he mentioned, but he was sure he was always a different person. Sometimes a group of people.

That was the beginning of the most durable nanny stays; and certainly the ones that he and his brothers enjoyed most were Cousin Max, triplets that were friends with his uncle, and Grandma Duck.

The greatest dose of good luck was when Uncle Gladstone suddenly came to visit with Grandma. He could say that a small part of his uncle's debts had been reduced, and perhaps that was the most tearful thanks he could have given.

Six-years-old. One more move. His uncle was not clear about it, but the triplets were already accustomed to them. Of course, every time the residences and apartments became smaller, impossible for a small broken family to support.

The only difference is that on that occasion they went to a small houseboat. He had heard Donald talk about one last hope, and he really seemed hesitant to let three hyperactive toddlers be in the limited space of a boat that clearly needed repairs.

That was the last move. And although the visits of Max, April, May and June were critically reduced and Grandma looked after them selflessly, they made her uncle's absences more noticeable; sometimes shorter, sometimes longer, and Louie couldn't help crying silently when he recognized the gentle, familiar touch tucking him and stroking his hair, to end with a kiss on his head.

"I'm so sorry, boys." Donald will apologize every night, his voice broken, and the desire to get up and snuggle in his arms, crying how much he missed him, it didn't spare him.

Don't get him wrong, he loves both Elvira and Max, and he got fond of the triplets. But they were not the person who changed his diapers — with the occasional exception of his grandmother — and taught him to talk and walk.

But he knew he couldn't. Being so considerate of them, it would amount to more time at home and less time at work, it would amount to more economic difficulties.

Louie couldn't be the evil triplet with his uncle. Much less when less than a week ago he had heard him cry during a phone call, begging to keep his job.

And while he never told his brothers about it, that image was still in his head.

He didn't want it to be repeated.

Seven-years-old. It could be said that living in a small place further sharpened the sight of an imaginative preschool child. Like the way in which, during the month, the shopping list was shortened, particularly when their birthdays or Christmas approached; how restless his uncle got when there were sales, and how concentrated he looked while comparing prices.

And how his knuckles tightened in the shopping cart when there were whispers and murmurs dedicated to them.

Apparently single parents are not a common thing in Duckburg, especially in the case of triplets, but it was no lie that Louie was happy with them despite the many difficulties.

He recognizes the expression on Donald's face when he tries not to have an outburst of anger and prefers to make deaf ears, making calculations and trying to make purchases with a low budget.

And to tell the truth, it was Louie's cusp moment to approach the carts of people who spoke ill of their uncle to take what he can while they are distracted...

Occasionally it was from the shelves where he took the food from, and fortunately his visualization of the angles allowed him to recognize when to do his thing, counting on brothers who covered his back.

The important thing was to have food in their fridge.

That year is founded Louie's Kids, and though it is difficult, he cannot say no to his uncle's smile, always willing to help even if it's out of his way.

Who knows, maybe one day he's as rich as Scrooge McDuck and can help Donald. Huey already does it with the electricity bill after all.

Nine years-old. Dahlia Duck is born.

He had never seen his sister so scared since joining the Junior Woodchucks — and, honestly and surprisingly, it had been merely good luck that his Uncle Donald will still have his uniform of his time in the troop.

But she was very intelligent, and it wouldn't be long until her gender dysphoria, whatever that was, had meaning.

And he couldn't be more grateful for it. He loved Dollie very much but having seen her so nervous and not being able to ask her without her becoming a trembling mass was driving him crazy.

"I have a sister!" Dewey would shout at the four winds before pouncing on her and hugging her between laughs.

He had simply raised his thumb in support, and for some reason his uncle was on the verge of tears. He had shared a few words with his sister alone and finally saw them again while they prepared dinner together.

And though everything had finished well and during the next few days her sister's poles had modernized and were now dresses, in addition to the addition of skirts and overalls to the closet — courtesy of an adult who made Halloween costumes for almost a decade —, it had made that adult more overprotective.

"Let me know if they bother you." For some reason, he looked more nervous than usual while arranging his niece's cap, even aghast, the smaller triplet thought while he finished his breakfast.

"Yes, Uncle Donald," the little duckling replied once more, finishing fixing her backpack to continue helping Donald as she used to do every morning.

The adult sighed, finishing preparing the last lunch.

"I know I've said it many times, but not everyone reacts the same, even in the 21st century there are people who feel superior to you for thinking differently and... I just want you to be well." He had crossed his arms, and his gaze had turned bright and distant.

"I know," smiling gently, his older sister ceasing to help her guardian to hug him, not caring if she wrinkled her clothes.

He didn't know what they had talked about, but apparently it had made them closer, and for some reason he couldn't face it.

So he did what he always did and preferred to get distracted and continue eating before his breakfast finished chilling. Although he will try to hide it from his nephews and niece, Louie's keen eye was still feeling his uncle's tension.

He always sensed his uncle's tension.

But it wasn't until they arrived at the school that they knew that not everyone reacted the same to Donald Duck, and the comments had not been expected for the first class.

And though the siblings had already made up their mind, it was not easy, much less for their uncle in the last PTA meeting.

Since that day he has seen his uncle looking for another school in which to enroll his wards, one in which his sister can be accepted; dedicating a small part of their reduced salaries in savings for a new educational institution.

He had honestly never seen his uncle so determined on a goal. This goal discovered an afternoon in which he did not attend classes due to illness.

That made Louie wonder how a man as dedicated and hardworking as his uncle struggled so hard to find a steady job.

Unfortunately, not everything turned out well if you were the most unlucky duck in the world, and that led to today: the every-day bullies bothering his sister. This time using her Junior Woodchucks guidebook as an object of fun.

It would be better for him to act soon, before Dollie's temper makes its own.

Ten-years-old. They begin to accompany Donald in his varied works.

The triplets had reached a consensus in which they already considered themselves too old to need a babysitter, and their uncle refused to leave them alone, already aware of how naughty they can be by joining minds.

So they decided to be unanimous and there they were.

Maybe they couldn't be outside his radio unless it was necessary, but that allowed them to leave the houseboat and they were satisfied.

After all, who claimed they couldn't have adventures if they intended? They were young and the imagination had no boundaries.

Surprisingly it made him discover that his uncle could be multitasking, and doubts about his unemployment were resolved to the bad character and awful luck which he was possessor of, in addition to the distancing when the improvement of position promised the family.

What was really the reason why his Uncle Donald wanted to maintain a normal life, a common job and an average family? Louie thought day after day. Normal, common and average bored.

New employment, more money and little by little it seemed that his uncle's bankruptcy was diminishing, though the difficulties continued to arise in the form of tax collectors, job losses, bank calls, bills that Donald vainly concealed and again the acquisition of nannies.

It didn't help at all that they had not known about Uncle Gladstone for months.

But hey, it was nothing they weren't used to. Louie was sure that sooner or later his uncle's efforts will bear fruit.

Or he was, until he discovered that he had more family than he thought.

"Donald Duck..." there had been so many scenarios in which he had imagined knowing Scrooge McDuck, one less likely than another.

"Uncle Scrooge..." wait, what?

And certainly that was not one of them.

#el's fanfiction #ducktales 2017 #louie-centric #louie duck #donald duck #dewey duck #huey duck #except her name is dollie #dollie duck #trans girl huey #trans donald duck #implied tho #open to interpretation #donald tries his best #this was better in my head dammit

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jfpctter · 5 years ago

Text

-- JAMES F. POTTER

BASICS

NAME: james fleamont potter

AGE: twenty-seven

PRONOUNS: he/him

OCCUPATION: officially, he works at potter oil company, but since it’s his dad’s company, he barely does any actual work. unofficially, james is the founder of the marauders & bootlegger.

AFFILIATION: marauders

PERSONALITY: decisive, optimistic, ambitious, selfish, greedy, stubborn, bossy

SEXUALITY/ORIENTATION: bi/pansexual

PARENTS: fleamont and euphemia potter

SIBLINGS: none

(brief and unorganized) HISTORY tw. infidelity, alcohol.

born an only child to fleamont potter, a ridiculously wealthy oil company owner and euphemia potter. truth is, neither of the potters really wanted a child but maintaining the image of a ‘happy family’ was beneficial for the business and their reputation as a whole.

james always wanted a sibling but his parents obviously were not very interested in raising kids so he had a horse instead when he was younger that they kept on their manor. he was raised mostly by his nanny, carmella, and he probably has a stronger bond to her than he does to either of his parents.

to be honest his family is not warm at all and his father cheats on his mom and there’s a lot of family issues but the potters are obsessed with seeming like the Perfect Family. and james also does worry about that and he never talks about his family problems or even his own problems to his friends because he doesn’t want to put a dent to their reputation, either.

still, he grew up very comfortably -- he had nearly everything money could buy. he got so used to everyone pandering to his needs and people only getting close to him for money that he grew disenchanted with the lifestyle fairly quickly. when he was of age, he went off to college to study business and came back, and he spent a few years post-college wasting money and wasting time until he decided he needed to make something more of his life.

so when prohibition rolled around, james heard stories here and there of speakeasies popping up and alcohol being moved around, but it wasn’t until he met sirius that he thought he should actually get in on that action. he and sirius met at a dinner party and they connected - mostly because james thought he saw a little bit of himself in sirius. and eventually he offered sirius a way out of the black family & they formed the marauders with peter and remus.

now, he’s getting greedy. at first, all of this was to help remus and he loves the marauders with all his heart, but there’s something more to bootlegging for him than just getting money. money is something he already has, but this sense of power and control and excitement is what’s been missing all his life and it’s damn near addictive. they’re doing okay moving a little bit of alcohol and making deals with evelyn, but he knows they can do something much bigger and the opportunity is there, right around the corner -- why wouldn’t he take it?

WANTED CONNECTIONS

no. 1: someone who runs in the same Rich Elite Kids circle as he does -- they can be on friendly terms or they can be mortal enemies, but in general, james probably thinks you’re just another boring rich kid unless you’re doing something exciting like he is. ( open )

no. 2: someone james has fucked over in the past because he seems like the type to do that? maybe it was something to do with bootlegging, maybe it was something before that when he was younger. in either case, this person hates james’ guts and he honestly has never apologized for what he did. ( open )

no. 3: someone the potters want to marry james off to??? like he’s 27 now and in their mind he should start thinking about marrying a nice girl and starting a family of his own soon. he has no interest in this but he’ll probably still meet with her like once a week just to have tea and hopefully be polite. ( open )

no. 4: the one person that isn’t part of the marauders that james is actually really, really soft for. around this person, he doesn’t seem to be his usual loud, obnoxious self and he would give his limbs up for this person for whatever reason. they could be childhood friends, or maybe someone james just feels really comfortable around. ( open )

#( & about. )

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 6 years ago

Text

@thecorteztwins

So, I wound up writing another piece of that “Fabian and Maximus kidnap Luna” scenario, this time from Luna’s perspective. This is kind of turning into a fan-fic, but feel free to tell me to stop, or tell me to do specific things in the story, since I am using your ideas here. If I manage to keep this up, I think the next scene will be Fabian’s perspective at the mall, pretending to be Luna’s two dads.

(Also, I’m pretty sure that Fabian didn’t actually kidnap Luna to “teach Quicksilver a lesson,” but I figure that’s how he’d explain it to her. Maximus and Fabian are both entirely full of bullshit most of the time.)

Luna was used to being alone. Inhuman parents didn’t hover over their children constantly the way human parents seemed to, and royal Inhuman parents even less so. Her mother was constantly away on some kind of official business, like long, boring meetings or fancy dinners, or dealing with yet another crisis that threatened to destroy the entire city. Other children took lessons together, but as a princess, Luna was given private tutors. She’d outgrown nannies, so she was usually on her own when lessons were over. At least when Ahura was around they could play together, when he wasn’t moody and moping.

Being alone at the Avengers compound was nothing new, either. Her father had dashed away to deal with the Wrecking Crew destroying buildings in downtown New York. At least they were living up to their names. According to her father, they usually stole things and robbed banks, which seemed weird, since they didn’t call themselves the Bank Robbing Crew. Luna knew she shouldn’t mind, it was her father’s job to fight bad guys and save people, but he’d promised her that they’d go out for ice cream that afternoon. And there were so many Avengers, did he really have to go? He could fight bad guys any time, but Luna would only be staying with him another month before heading back to Attilan (assuming her mother didn’t forget because the Kree attacked or Attilan fell into a time portal or whatever).

So Luna was sitting on the couch watching Steven Universe, and feeling very sorry for herself, because this was supposed to be Luna and Dad time, and she was alone again. The cartoon cheered her up a little bit. The show was about magic sentient space gems, which was a really neat idea, and they had cool designs, and sometimes there were songs. But mostly, Luna could totally relate to the main character being a half-human, half-alien hybrid, struggling to fit into either world.

Absorbed in the show, Luna didn’t look up when the door opened. Two of the gems had fused into some kind of giant woman, and were fighting weird bird monsters. It wasn’t until someone picked up the remote and switched the TV off that Luna looked up.

One man she didn’t recognize. He was kind of handsome, except for the haughty expression on his face. He was wearing coveralls and a hat, but she could see wisps of red hair peeking out around his face, and a long ponytail down his back. His emotions were much uglier. Luna could see golden pride running through his psyche, polished to an arrogant gaudiness. The too-bright gold color was twined with sharp neon green malice, a rich, luxurious royal purple of greed, and tightly coiled spirals of orange anxiety. This wasn’t a good sign.

The other man was Uncle Maximus, which was an even worse sign. He was wearing the same coveralls and cap, reminding Luna of the work clothing that he often wore in the Chamber of Devices. The anxiety inside him was tinted white, closer to excitement, lying in tangled knots across the same garish pride Luna saw in the other man. Uncle Max’s emotions were far less orderly, though. His psyche was a polychrome nightmare, constantly shifting like a stained glass window come to life, colors clashing as they shot jagged spikes across his torso. The only constant was the black. It wasn’t like the cool pools of blue-black calm inside Uncle Black Bolt, it was a writhing darkness that reached out to stain any color that came into contact with it. It twisted through her uncle’s body, coiling into his brain, wrapped around his heart. Or maybe it was coming out of his heart? It was hard to tell.

“Oh, hi Uncle Max!” Luna said, not quite sure yet whether she should be worried. Somewhere in the rainbow mess, she could see a faint pink of affection. “Are you bad again?”

“I’m never bad, dear child,” Maximus cooed, in a tone more oily than honeyed. “Others label me so because they don’t have the mental capacity to understand my actions.”

“Oh. That sounds like you’re bad again.”

Luna was never really clear on whether she should be afraid of her uncle. She had first heard of Maximus as a kind of boogeyman, someone that her tutors spoke of in fearful whispers. He’d seemed to fit that description when Medusa dragged her down to his dark cell, a soft-spoken monster hiding behind a smiling mask. Despite his kind behavior (he even explained things to her like she was a grown-up!), talking with him felt a little like cuddling up to a tiger. He seemed to change every time Luna saw him – one day cold and sly, the next day practically jumping up and down with excitement while explaining one of his machines. He certainly didn’t remain soft-spoken, he got very shouty when his emotions boiled over inside him in an eruption of colors.

Even the adults couldn’t seem to decide how to treat him – he was locked away in a dark dungeon forever, he was ruling Attilan, he was the family’s trusted scientific expert, he was trying to kill everyone, he was building machines for Black Bolt, he was a prince to be respected, he was a reviled lunatic. No one trusted him, but Crystal had left Luna in his care when she and the rest of the family went to rescue Uncle Black Bolt and Ahura from the Skrulls. (He hadn’t hurt her then, only talked to her for hours in a way that sounded very much like he was talking to himself.) Was Uncle Maximus good or bad or brilliant or crazy or all of those things? He certainly wasn’t the nightmare under the bed any more. Lately, Luna had started to think of him as a badly-behaved child, hiding behind a grown-up mask.

“What does ‘bad’ even mean, really?” Maximus asked, taking her by the arm. “A word to keep people in their place. It’s a word for the peasants, Luna, not for us. Royalty is beyond good and bad.”

“I really don’t think that’s true Uncle Max,” Luna said, letting herself be pulled up away from the TV. She’d seen this episode, anyway.

“You’ve obviously been spending too much time with these humans, you’re starting to absorb their mindset. You need to be back with your own people.”

“Is that where you’re taking me? Back to Mom and Aunt Medusa?” Maximus grinned broadly at her.

“Yes, child, exactly!” Bright flashes of sickly pale blue inside him screamed insincerity.

“Really?”

“Well, we’ll go back to Attilan eventually, but first you can spend some fun time with your Uncle Max and my….associate here. I’ll teach you all sorts of interesting things. Your education has been far too neglected.”

“I don’t wanna learn.” Luna wrinkled her nose as she paused, not letting herself be pulled any further. Maximus paused with her, apparently unwilling to yank her along. “I’m supposed to be on vacation from school. Can’t we do something fun?”

“Yes, poppet, we’ll do all sorts of fun things,” Maximus promised, and the blue blended with a forest green that suggested he was at least partially telling the truth.

“For God’s sake, Maximus, just grab the kid,” interrupted the man with the ponytail, annoyance flashing a jagged red. “We need to get out of here before anyone else walks in.”

“Watch your tongue, Cortez!” Maximus snapped. “Luna is a princess of Attilan and she will be treated with respect. Even if she’s part mutant, poor thing.” He patted Luna on the head at that last comment. Luna was used to this kind of talk. Most citizens of Attilan approached her half-breed status with something between barely disguised contempt, or, at best, horrified fascination and pity. She didn’t see why it was such a bad thing. Her father had powers just like Inhumans, better powers than most of them!

“That’s her better half, anyway,” the man grumbled. “Mutants will inherit this world.” Uncle Max waved his hand dismissively.

“Can I say good-bye to Mr. Jarvis before we go? And I should leave a note for my Dad -” Maximus’ grip on her arm tightened. Luna was suddenly completely certain that she was being kidnapped. It was hardly the first time.

“Let’s not bother Mr. Jarvis right now, he’s very busy,” Maximus said quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ve already told Quicksilver that we’re coming to pick you up.” Luna’s father would never in a million years agree for Maximus to take Luna back to Attilan. He was the only grown-up who’d always been consistent in his opinion of Uncle Max – namely that they should lock him up and throw away the key.

“Wait, let me get my clothes! And my toothbrush! I can’t go without my toothbrush, can I?” If Uncle Max let her go to her room, Luna could leave a note for her father. Or even make a run for it. Maybe she could hide in one of the many spare rooms until the Avengers came back.

“You don’t need all that, poppet. We’ll buy you some new clothes. We’ll have a shopping spree, won’t that be nice?” Now Maximus was pulling her towards the door again, so that Luna had to stumble along to keep up. Luna made a frustrated sound, not quite a growl or scream, just a long “Rrgggghhhh….”

“Quiet!” ordered the pony-tailed man.

“Uncle Max, if you’re gonna kidnap me, can’t I at least take my clothes along? And my DS? It gets really boring being kidnapped!”

“What does ‘kidnap’ even mean, really? Just another silly word,” Maximus said cheerfully. Luna rolled her eyes and thought about screaming at the top of her lungs. That would at least bring Mr. Jarvis from the kitchen. But Mr. Jarvis didn’t have any powers, and he’d try to stop them. Luna was fairly sure that Uncle Maximus would not hurt her. But he would probably hurt Mr. Jarvis. Screaming was out.

“It means you’re taking me someplace I don’t wanna go!” Luna snapped, as they went through the main doors towards the stairs.

“But you do want to go with us,” Maximus insisted. “We’re family. Family members can’t kidnap each other, right? We’re going to buy you some lovely new things, and have a really fun time together!”

“That’s right!” agreed the pony-tailed man, smiling as if it hurt him to do so. “We’re great fun!”

Luna fumed quietly as they went down the stairs. She didn’t think she could use her powers on both of them at once. It was really hard to use her powers on Uncle Max, anyway, like trying to run underwater. If she tried he would fight, and then the other man, “Cortez,” would probably do something nasty to her. It would be easier to take over Cortez, but then Uncle Max would use his own powers to stop him. She wished desperately for her mother to appear and light both men on fire (not like, completely on fire, just enough to hurt them a little. Maybe just their toes.) She wanted her father to zip up the stairs and whisk her away, safe in his arms. But neither of them did, because they were busy.

They were always busy. For a moment Luna hated her entire stupid family. This wouldn’t be happening if either of her parents had been there, like parents were supposed to be. Maybe they’d finally learn their lesson when her father came back and found her gone. She smiled a little to herself, imagining her father dropping to his knees and weeping.

“Oh Luna, how could I have left you all alone? We should have gone out for ice cream like you wanted!” He would wail. “How could I have ever considered anything more important than my precious daughter?” Crystal would join him, and they would cry into each other’s arms. “Our daughter is gone forever because we were such bad parents! By Randac, I swear if Luna comes back safe I’ll never make her do boring algebra worksheets ever again!”

Luna was so caught up in fantasy that she barely noticed as they exited the building and climbed into a van. She realized as the doors shut that she should have gotten a look at the license plate, but it probably didn’t matter. If this was a kidnapping (and it totally was!), Uncle Max would announce himself to the family soon enough and make a big showy spectacle out of it. He was “extra,” a human word that Luna had learned from She-Hulk. And maybe it wouldn’t hurt that her parents would worry about her for a little while – maybe they should.

Maximus was strapping her into the backseat while Cortez got into the driver’s seat.

“Where did you get this Uncle Max? You didn’t do something bad to someone, did?”

“Nooooo, of course not,” Maximus tried to assure her as he settled into the front passenger seat. “A nice man gave it to me.”

“Oh.” Luna mentally supplied quotes to the word “gave,” just hoping that her uncle hadn’t hurt the man. “Are you Uncle Max’s friend?” She asked Cortez, who was driving them towards the gate.

“We are…associates. Partners, you could say,” Cortez said, glancing back at her. “Listen child, I know we have had our differences in the past, but if you behave yourself and cooperate, I promise not to harm you.”

“What differences?”

Cortez abruptly stepped on the brake, Uncle Maximus letting out a startled yelp as he jerked forward into the dashboard.

“I wasn’t even belted in yet, Cortez! Can you not even drive through a parking lot without some display of incompetence – “ He went on in that vein, but Cortez was not listening, only looking back at Luna, bright yellow surprise flaring up, then smoldering down into a dull, dark red anger.

“Do you really not remember? I once kidnapped you to teach your dreadful father a lesson! How can you forget someone like me?!”

“Maybe I was a baby? People don’t remember things from when they were babies,” Luna suggested, trying to be helpful, and maybe calm his anger a bit.

“You were old enough! You were – no, never mind. I am the great Fabian Cortez, Spanish royalty, leader of the Acolytes, true successor to the legacy of Magneto, the very pinnacle of the race of homo-superior.”

“That means mutant,” Maximus supplied. “Now will you drive the van, or must I lower myself to the task, Cortez?”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Cortez,” Luna said. “Don’t feel bad if I don’t remember. I get kidnapped a lot. It’s hard to remember every time.”

“Fine. Fine. I forgive you forgetting. You are only a child, and children can be forgiven these things,” Cortez conceded, anger visibly cooling. “But more importantly, Maximus, how will we get her past the guard? I assume you’ll….” Cortez glanced at Luna, then back at Maximus, and tapped his forehead in a way that meant to be secret. Obviously he wanted Uncle Max to use his mind control powers. Luna wondered if they’d keep using charades around her if she pretended not to understand.

“Why don’t we do this the easy way?” Maximus said, turning to Luna. “Luna, we’re going to play a fun hide-and-seek game where you lay under this tarp.”

“That doesn’t look very clean. I don’t think I want to play that game.” And Uncle Max couldn’t force her. He couldn’t use his powers on her, that was the one advantage she could play. That, and the cell-phone in her dress pocket that neither man had noticed yet, but she’d have to pull it out when they weren’t watching her.

“Oh, but you must! It’s one of the many delightful games we’ll be playing today,” Maximus insisted.

“Can we also go to store and buy me some new clothing? Like you said? I’ll play the game if we can go to the mall.” Luna knew they could overpower her if they really wanted to. But Maximus probably didn’t want to do something like that, and he probably didn’t want to deal with her crying or screaming. Buying her presents would be the path of least resistance. And it seemed only fair, since they were kidnapping her and everything.

“That’s really not-“ Cortez started, but was cut off by Maximus.

“Yes, of course, princess! Just like I said! I promise!” The colors seemed to indicate sincerity, although Uncle Max could change his mind on a dime. But then, resisting might mean that they hurt the poor security guard, and Luna didn’t want that.

“Okay, it’s a deal. You promised!” Luna lay flat against the seat and pulled the tarp over herself. If she played her cards right, maybe she could get her uncle to buy her a new DS.

#thecorteztwins #inhumans #fabian cortez #maximus boltagon #luna maximoff

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alreadyovcr · 2 years ago

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basics

hometown: milford, pennsylvania

eye color: brown

hair color: blonde

height: 5′3

sexuality: bisexual

birthday: january 19, 1995 ( capricorn )

bio

regan’s mother was never the type to settle down. before meeting morpheus, her longest relationship had been three months. so when the guy seemed commitment-phobic, that was perfect for her. until, of course, she found out she was pregnant. she didn’t want to get married but she was at an age where the idea of motherhood…didn’t repulse her. so she wanted to keep the baby, at which point the father of her child didn’t get down on one knee, he started to explain the kinds of responsibilities she’d face as the mother of his child.

having the child of a god in her womb inflated her ego, which was pretty impressive considering how big it already was. see, regan’s mother was a southern belle without any of the class or manners. she’d breezed through the pageant circuit as a teen, winning a number of titles with minimal effort. her talent was essentially crying on demand and looking pretty while doing it. knowing she’d slept with a god, like an honest to…god felt sort of fitting. like, duh, who else would she have her first child with?

this also led to a brief but intense fixation with shakespeare, who name dropped gods like it was his job, which led to her choosing the name regan from king lear.

thankfully, her mother got out of the pyramid scheme before she got in too deep. she was hired by an actual, reputable cosmetics company and given a desk job to work in sales, which she was still a natural at. because she had a full time job now, regan spent a lot of time with nannies…and that’s nannies plural because regan was one of those kids who drove her caretakers to quit on a regular basis.

but not because she was a handful. she was pretty self-sufficient, actually, and totally well-behaved, she was just kind of…weird. she’d leave her room for dinner with all of her clothes suddenly on backwards and say nothing as if it was normal and act confused when her nanny asked about it. she’d stare at the tv when it was off, she’d spend one day only speaking in whispers, she’d write vaguely threatening messages on the mirror with her mother’s red lipstick.

for reasons unknown, regan’s mother actually decided to have another child after regan. but she was unconventional, too, hence regan being…the way she is, so she never actually married the father of regan’s half-brother, but they have been together for the past 15 years, so.

random facts

i want to v*mit saying this but…..she’s kind of like……..the female version of stevesuptic. except for she’s cute <3

her entire twitch account is kind of satirical, like it’s very hard to gauge what her actual personality is. i don’t think her viewers bully her the way they bully steve bc she would bully them back lmao but they ask her a lot of random ass super weird sometimes borderline disturbing questions and she answers them like it’s normal

she def has weird/creepy drawings whenever playing gartic phone tho /:

she’s actually pretty shit at most games that require any level of skill and her following comes entirely from her personality and her brand ig, she’s just entertaining to watch bc she says and does the most ??? things. like she’s not a gamer girl and doesn’t say she is she just has a twitch and plays games for the attention

i think it’s pretty hard to get an ACTUAL vision out of regan? she mostly keeps those to herself and just lies about her dreams. she’ll just be like, “yeah actually i had a dream you were gonna choke on some oatmeal so stay safe out there.” she’s also only partially sure when a dream is actually about the future.

her like <3 symbol that represents her is butterflies, she has a ton of butterfly shit

possible connections

idk if i am requesting a roommate for once, idk if i wanna subject anyone to that

someone naive who believes her any time she says something is going to happen, no matter how stupid it is and no matter how many times things simply do not happen??

a bestie because………………………….i just feel like she wormed her way into someone’s inner circle and they’re just stuck with her now

#🍓#「 🍓 」 𝚊𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏'𝚜 𝚊𝚗 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 » intro #nlintro

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terselylove · 5 years ago

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30 Weird Careers You Never Knew Existed That Might Help You Find Your Calling

1. I work in QC (Quality Control) for media.

In one company they occasionally paid me to watch porn to make sure it was in sync and in good quality for video on demand distribution.

In another company I spent years watching movies before release in secure theater-like rooms, to make sure the files are ready for distribution (subtitles and audio in sync, no picture corruptions, stuff like that). I always got to watch the biggest movies of the year in a giant screen weeks before they were released (sometimes months!).

I got the job by going to film school.

2. I spend about 80% of my day designing those large overhead signs you see on the highway.

3. I design water parks. I went to college for Graphic Design and Advertising. In my last year I had to do an internship, so I took one at an aquatic engineering firm to help organize photos. 10 years later I am a project manager and create resort deck and water park programs.

4. My boyfriend is a high rise window cleaner. There are only 4 in our city. He loves his job! Sometimes when he is working, I will go to the city to the building he is cleaning and look up at him on the street. So cute.

5. I used to work on a lavender farm! It’s totally unrelated to my field of study and incredibly difficult in terms of manual labor, but man was it a beautiful place. I tended to the plants, took care of goats, and did processing for the herbs and honey. My grandparents are farmers and so I grew up with mediocre knowledge of field work and beekeeping and when a friend’s mom decided to start a business centered around lavender she asked me to help out for the summer.

6. You know when you’re watching a sports program and you see the little pop-graphic in the corner (ie. a baseball players stats, or an advertisement for easy-mac, or “stay tuned for Saved By the Bell @ 9!”)? Yeah. That was me.

7. I work in a lab where I raise moths! I got it by telling my lab partner that I love bugs and he hooked me up.

8. I’m a chyron operator. I trigger motion graphics on live TV. I was an art student and also was in stage crew in high school. These things got me jobs backstage in theater, which got me a job in TV doing normal stuff like cameraman and stuff like that. Since I was an art major I asked if I could do graphics and they let me on the weekends, and my specialty eventually turned to the chyron which ingests the graphics that artists make and plays them back through the switcher that controls the news broadcast. It’s not technically an art position but at my job specifically I could make the graphics in after effects and photoshop during the day (if I have a computer free) and in the afternoon I play the chyron. Usually you are one or the other, because chyron operators don’t need art skills, it’s just another tech job like audio operator or camera operator or stage manager or whatever. These kinds of jobs are getting rarer because they are being automated. But since I’m also an artist I get to keep my job because if someone leaves I can take their job.

9. I used to be a hand model.

Apparently I have really really good looking hands. Although they look completely normal to me.

People were always asking me how I got into it so it was fun to bullshit people I was “discovered” on the street, now I moisturize 15 times a day and sleep with my hands in plastic bags….

The money was great but I’d have to spend long days on set being careful not to wreck my manicure. (Which they paid for of course! Also paid for the time it took to get the manicure.)

Mostly did TV commercials.

Now I tell people at parties I’m a retired international hand model but gave up show business for the much more worthwhile and rewarding career of teaching kids to read….

10. I’m a Hostage Survival Trainer.

I was working in international development within IT, and was asked to go and sort out the finance system in Iraq back in 2007. The ministry I was working in got attacked by a militia and myself along with my 4 guards got captured.

Over time the guards were killed and I got released in an exchange deal after being held for over 2.5 years.

11. I spent a year on a team reclassifying the Duke University Library system from Dewey Decimal to Library of Congress. Had to learn like four different alphabets just to label them properly.

12. Official court stenographer. I type everything everyone says in court. I was told about it in high school and thought it sounded cool so I went for it. Took 5 1/2 years in college, but I’m nationally certified to type 260 WPM and regularly push above 300 WPM in court.

13. Cameraman for Live PD. Went to film school to make movies then slowly worked through Ice Road Truckers, Ax Men, Boston’s Finest, and Nightwatch. Found out I have a perfect blend of art and athleticism that can be hard to find.

14. I make whiskey. It took a shit load of time, luck, skill and perseverance to get where I am.

15. Stagehand. I set up everything from huge concerts and Broadway shows to small private events and interviews. It’s a wonderful job and I love the people I work with.

16. I was a puppeteer for many years and I actually got that job from an ad in the classifieds. It cracks me up that there is a scene in Being John Malkovich where he tries to find “puppeteer” in the classifieds and fails.

17. I have been an online Community Manager for over 20 years.

I started in video games and moved into technology companies. I’ve worked on everything from Star Wars to telecommunications networking equipment and software that help companies move data fast.

It started as a hobby. I was a web developer so very fluent with the web. Started a fan site and grew up it large. Moved on to volunteer for another game company who eventually hired me full time.

18. My parents are escape artists and escape consultants. My dad started as a magician doing birthday parties as a teen, then got really into escapes, then became the #1 guy designing and consulting on escapes for famous top magicians.

19. I have a job tracking rodents in restaurants. I set up cameras, movement sensors, IR sensors and other gear, and get an idea of the problem and how to fix it.

20. I used to cut pictures of weewees and hohas off packaging of adult toys. All day every day. I got the job by being able to pass a drug test.

21. I mix fire retardant for fighting wildfires. A lot of people know that airplanes drop retardant on fires but don’t think about the millions of dollars of infrastructure that is behind that operation. Everyone who works at my base started by working at the local ski resort. It’s a good way to earn enough money in the summer to coast all winter so we keep the jobs among fellow ski bums.

22. In the summer I guard and clean the toilet units (not the toilets) for festivals. I got the job trying to find a cheap way to go to the big festivals and this organization was looking for volunteers.

So all I have to do is stand in front of the units, make sure the ground stays clean, everyone had toilet paper and clear a block of units so the cleaning team can do their job.

Another part of the job is making sure no one dies or passes out in such a unit. You can’t imagine how many drunk (often naked) people we need to get out of these units and escort them to the First Aid.

23. I’m a potter. I used to be the manager for a museum art school, and began taking classes there years ago. Eventually transitioned into being a full time potter and pottery teacher.

24. I work as an Air Traffic Controller. Not weird but not many of us around.

I pretty much fell into it after passing an aptitude and it’s just been swell since.

Albeit, the classic phrase from strangers: isn’t that the job with the most suicides?

It might be, but I don’t know anyone. It’s actually super chill and rewarding when you get it right. (We always try get it right, but when you get it super right you’re dead pleased.)

25. I’m a welder. But what I do isn’t very common. I build Virginia Class Submarines.

26. Water Quality testing. I go around and collect samples for various testing to ensure the water meets the state standards. I got lucky and met someone who was volunteering at my previous job and she told me to apply. Was not the direction I saw my career going but it was definitely worth it.

27. I cleaned grills for super rich people in Palm Beach. Even got to clean Michael Jordan’s at one point. And it was recommended to me from a friend who was in sobriety with me after I got clean.

28. I’m a House Manager for a family of four, basically I’m a female butler. I’ve worked for them for 14 years starting as the kid’s Nanny, they’re my second family pretty much! I organize trades people, holidays, birthdays, daily meals, dinner parties, housekeeping, the list goes on… It’s challenging at times but keeps me on my toes and I enjoy that.

29. Concrete petrographer. I just started this month. I studied geology in college and now my job is to look at concrete using petrographic methods I learned at school and conduct ASTM tests to determine quality of concrete. Very interesting work because concrete is engineered rock and there’s A LOT more to it than you think.

30. I work in a clinical lab where I get to play with baby sweat for a bit of my day. We are testing for chloride level. Increased chloride in sweat is one of the diagnostic markers for cystic fibrosis. I am a clinical laboratory scientist. Not all clinical labs perform this test but I am lucky enough to work at a lab where we do a couple interesting low volume tests.

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chanzicoup · 7 years ago

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“Blindsided” (VIXX N x Reader Imagine)

A/N: This was suppoed to be something more but I ran out of ideas :p

Count: 2.6k

Genre: Angst???

~Blake

You were a good girl despite being from a rich family. Many people expected you to be spoiled rotten or to wear designer clothes and have an attitude but that was far opposite from the real you. No one expected you to volunteer at the hospital or at orphanages. No one thought you had just graduated at the top of your class back when you went to Harvard University last Spring. No one knew you wanted to be an artist. No one took the time to get to know the real you but they had all the time to judge you and the make their own view of who you were. You guess that's why you never really dated, no one would want to put effort into the relationship when you would be putting your all into it.

One of those judgmental people was Cha Hakyeon, who wanted to be known as N. He made it big in his music group VIXX and left his home for training. Both of his parents were close friends with yours so that meant when you were children you'd be forced to play with each other. You were also forced into the same high school classes and even some extra curricular activities like tennis most rich kids found fun. Those types of things never excited N so he always ditched practice to spend his time in the music room. You never dared to snitch on him because you didn't want to give him a reason to hate you. He was the closest thing you had to a friend.

All the popular girls at school tried to be friends with you but you quickly learned that they were the exact people others assumed you were. Mean and snobby. They picked on the other kids and then turned on you when you stopped talking to them. This also led to rumors about you thinking you were too good and better than everyone. All the popular boys just wanted you for your body, which was in good shape thanks to tennis, something you actually enjoyed. You hated your life that was already planned for you but didn't have the power to fight it.

Your life at home wasn't much better either. Your parents were too busy running their handbag company to pay much attention to you so they hired nannies to raise you through your most precious years. You often wondered why you were born if they didn't want you. Whenever you talk to them it feels more like a business deal than a normal conversation between mother and daughter or father and daughter. N's family ran a very successful company that was so well off they hired people to do work for them and this allowed them to have most of their time dedicated to N. You were always jealous but never made any indication of it. Instead you did whatever your parents told you in hopes of getting their love in return.

When the day came that your parents invited N and his family over you had no say in the matter. You mother only peaked her head through your door that morning to tell you there'd be guests over for dinner and that you had to dress accordingly, which translated to "wear your most elegant attire" in understandable words. That was about eight o'clock this morning and at the time you were in the middle of painting a cherry blossom tree in a grass field. You mother would've thrown a fit if she saw what you were doing so after she left you put all of your tools and colors in their respected containers and hid the still wet painting in your bathroom, the only room people asked for permission to enter. It was better to continue later when you thought it was safe, usually when your mother speaks to you once she'll nag until she's satisfied.

Dinner is always at five o'clock. It has been for the whole 25 years of your life, soon 26. To be exact you have 31 days until your birthday. You remember something from years ago, something your parents had scolded you about. Was it finding a husband? If it was then they would've said it on more than one occasion. It was the day you were packing for Harvard, you were keeping yourself from crying because you could not bring your paints with you. You managed to smuggle a sketch book into your luggage before your parents gave their farewell speech that consisted of, "study hard and be successful." Not once did they say, "We love you," or "Be safe!" or even a "Call us when you land!" Did they mention something about meeting someone somewhere in between? You couldn't recall, after all that was nearly 8 years ago. You were only 18 at the time, your parents "encouraged" you to go to college with out taking the summer after high school off. Talk about overload.

You sit at your table that was pristine white despite the amount of times you've spilled watercolor on it. In fact your entire room was as white as a blank canvas. It was the only color your parents enforced upon you, such a needy color, wanting to be decorated with every shade of every pigment. But no, for creativity creates less room for knowledge. The bed in your room was bigger then you needed it to be, the desk was smaller then your door, and your walls were untouched by your creative ability. Whenever you did make anything you'd sell it immediately and give the money to a charity, it was all you could do without your parents approval, therefore they would never know unless you slipped up. You were in no need of extra cash when your family controls your life to the last point. On your table there were minimal items, your journal, an old math textbook you've solved all the formulas in, and a single pencil. Your journal held the words you were never allowed to say. Your math book was something you've had since you were little. You'd gotten it as a present from one of the staff that work in your home. She said to you, "A smart girl should start smart." And you've lived up to those words everyday since then. You were five or six when the book was gifted to you but the material inside of it was college level. On your free time you'd investigate the equations to find an answer, you've always loved math because it helped you solve problems through a series of steps, there was always an answer no matter how difficult things might seem. And the pencil was obviously well used. The eraser was almost nonexistent and the length of the wood was halved over and over from the amount of times it's been used, sharpened, and used again. You should really replace that pencil with the ones in your desk drawer and throw it away, but that wouldn't be fair to trash something that still has use, even if there's not much left of it. It's not right to discard something with full potential.

Until four o'clock you sat at your desk with your books, not once getting a headache from the constant writing or calculating, it was a past time you were allowed to do without your parents becoming angry. Your mother came in to check on your preparations and was aggravated that you were still in casual wear. Before she could shout you apologized and went to your closet. She closed your door to leave you be thankfully and you pulled out a rose gold dress, a black one, and then a blue on. All of which will be perfect for a dinner in your household, but which should you wear? The rose gold was plain but can be elegant with the help of accessories. Were you in the mood for readjusting bracelets all through out the meal? Not entirely, back in the closet it goes. The blue dress was long and dark. It had a flower like pattern that covered it and fixated around your arms to act as sleeves. Wasn't it getting hotter outside because of the change of the seasons? The black dress was at knee length and had no sleeves, cancelling out the fact that the dark color will bring in more sunlight and heat. It was elegant on it's own with out the help of bulky jewels and was revealing enough at the same time to keep my body temperate. Perfect choice. I put the blue dress back and changed out of my leggings and blouse into the chic material. I paired the dress with pumps of the same color and a gold necklace my late grandmother gifted me before her passing. It had my birthstone as it's charm.

"Emmabell! The guests will be arriving shortly! Are you ready?" You heard your mother announce from the other side of your bedroom door. You only had to fix your make up and do your hair so a little white lie shouldn't shake her up.

"Yes mother, I'll be down shortly!" You rushed to the bathroom to loosely curl your jet black hair that was about the same axis as your shoulders when it's finished. You went for light colors of eye shadow and naturalistic colors for your face. All your mother would've wanted was for you to cover the oh so few freckles and acne scares you've accumulated through the years so you did the bare minimum to make sure they were covered. She wants everything to be perfect at every possible moment. When you were completely ready you plugged your phone into the charger before leaving so when you were excused to go to bed you can listen to music with out worry before slumber took over.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Cha! What a blessing to see you after so many years!" You heard your mother's feigned cheeriness from the top of the stairs and took it as your cue to make your appearance. You smiled at the guests and hesitated when you saw one that was familiar in an unfriendly way.

"And this must be your son, Hakyeon!" He's gotten taller since the last time you have seen him. High school graduation less than ten years ago.

"Good evening." He smiled and shook your parents hands.

"This is our daughter, Emmabell." You father gestured to you and you smiled once more.

"Hello." You greeted.

"Oh my, dear you've grown so much!" Mrs. Cha exclaimed as she came in for a hug. She's always someone you've seen as a second mother but never actually confined in, mainly because it was a rarity you'd see her. You were also deathly afraid of Mr. Cha because he reminded you of your own father. He could be the nicest man on Earth and you wouldn't know. Men with money could be dangerous because they might think they're capable of escaping punishment with the waft of a wallet.

"Shall we sit for dinner?" Your mother questioned. You had no idea why she started acting so suspicious but you went with her plan nonetheless and sat down at your father's right side, your mother on his left. In front of you sat N, who stared intensely at you for a reason you were unsure of. This was just a dinner, correct?

The chef's brought out the meal and you ate very little. An uneasy feeling caused you to loose your appetite; you simply picked you your food while the sets of parents conversed with each other. Whenever you were directed a question your mother couldn't answer you would politely and honestly give your part until you got quiet again.

"Hakyeon is just a few weeks older than Emmabell isn't he?" Your mother asked as she sipped from her wine glass. Receiving a cheerful "yes" from N's parents, a silence took over the table, as if they were beating around the bush. It was until your father said the words, "Let's get down to business." And apparently you weren't the only one that was caught by surprise. N was as in a daze as you were.

"We brought you two here to discuss something of the utmost importance." Said Mr. Cha to N and you, "we have agreed to merge our companies together by marriage."

"An arranged marriage of Hakyeon and you, Emmabell." Your mother summarized before taking another sip of red whine.

An arranged marriage? Was this something your parents thought of you, their daughter needed the help of someone else to run the business. You were fully capable of being independent and without a man in your life. Was this all the faith they had in you to succeed? You would've choked on your food if you had any in your mouth, unfortunately for N he was midbite when his father announced the news.

"Excuse me?" He asked when he gathered up himself again.

"You heard me. Your mother and I told you before you needed to find a wife before you could take over the business. We gave you time to choose your bride, now time's ticking and we have no other choice." His father's words pierced sharply through the air and you froze in your seat, your parents had given you the same choice and now it's too late. You weren't sure you could snake out of this one.

"But why should we merge with them?! Our company is running smoothly!" N defended his opinion on the marriage, but you couldn't help but be a little offended. Was he saying his family was better than yours?

"And ours isn't?" You snipped, your polite voice only emphasizing your annoyance. Your father nudged your leg under the table, his way of telling you to cool off. You weren't going to listen tonight, you'll apologize later but for now you aren't going to allow some dirt bag to mock your family's craft.

"Well thankfully I wasn't the one to say it."

"What we mean is," N's mother spoke up "If we merge companies by marriage it'll be a legal way to increase sales and overall production."

What if you rejected? Lied and said you found a man while you were studying and hadn't told your parents about him yet. That would only buy you time, and you knew you'd never fall in love before your parents had to force a ring on your finger. Apparently you weren't the only party that wasn't excited about the predicament. You could see from the spot you were sitting in that N wasn't all that happy to be your husband, he probably hated you the most. You couldn't see his hands or anything past the table but you'd have to be stupid to not know that he was clenching his fists right now, out of sight out of mind.

"We will give you two time of course. To make up for lost time." Your mother said after another sip of wine.

Since you really had nothing else to say, anything that'll make a difference that is, you kept quiet again and barely picked at your food. The news has ruined your appetite. N had given you a face, one that shouted "Say something moron!" but you ignored it. He sighed and thought of ways to get out of this. Knowing his parents they'd make him go all out and actually tolerate the woman they had set him up with. They would want them to live in a house paid for with their money and grandchildren in return for all of their hard work making wedding plans. N wasn't even warned like you were, if he had known before he would've took the chance to get with someone who had his heart, not some girl he's known forever.

#kpop #vixx #vixx n #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpopficscommunity #vixx imagine #vixx scenario

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so-flashtastic · 8 years ago

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Ain’t no prince waiting for me

Soulmate AU Pairing: Barry Allen x reader

Summary: In spite of her tattoo, Y/N Y/L/N has given up this soulmate thing. She simply doesn’t believe it, she’s convinced that she’s doomed to never find her true love. But will an unfortunate event change that?

Warning: Eddie’s still alive!! He’s not going to die in my AU either;))

A/N: OK, so I have always wanted to do a soulmate-AU, I simply find the clichés adorable! In this one, the soulmate thing is the partner’s first words the first time they meet each other, but hey! If you liked this, and want m to make another soulmate-imagine, send me your idea! Enjoy:))

ϟϟϟϟϟ

“I’m telling you, Blaise, I just don’t believe in it!” Y/N was yet again arguing with her best friend about the idiotic soulmate thing. “How can you not believe in it? This is how life works, how God have made it easier for us to find one another!” It was almost pointless to continue. The two had two completely different ideologies. Blaise: the girl who believed in fate, in God, in the stupid tattoos. And then there was Y/N: the one that believed in science, in random happenings and that were convinced she would die alone.

“You will never understand, B, I will never have what you and Hunter have,” this provoked Blaise, how could her almost perfect, best friend think so little of herself? “Of course you will, your wrist is proof of that, now stop the bullshit talk, Y/N,” her tone short and sharp. “But Blaise, I swear I’m cursed or something! My younger siblings have met their partners, my whole family has always found their soulmates at a young age. All of my friends have their partners, heck you and Hunter have a kid, Blaise!”

“You’re not cursed, Y/N,” “Just look at this Blaise, it’s pure evil, my tattoo says ‘wow’! That can be anyone, it can be a creep, a jackass, it can be any guy on the planet!” “You need to stop being so pessimistic, Y/N, it doesn’t suit you,” Blaise kept her mouth in a thin line. “The complex is weird and unnatural,” “You can’t just say that!” “Watch me!” Y/N challenged, and shouted at the top of her lungs, which made Blaise just want to disappear. So she dragged her friend through the park. “Don’t wake Amos, Y/N,” she excused, and their discussion stopped there, the next talking-topic being how Y/N was doing at work.

“It’s so cool,” “It’s not that cool, Cisco,” Barry chuckled. His friend, teammate, and colleague had not stopped looking at his wrist in awe. “But it is! I mean, come on! The damsel falling in love with her hero – it’s a classic!” Cisco referred to the words ‘Holy crap, it’s him!’ “You know, it can also just be a girl that doesn’t like me or something, or-“ "Nope, this right here, my man, is a line said in adoration,” Cisco patted Barry’s back, and they went back to their work.

Y/N sat on the Haydens’ couch as her friend walked around her apartment. “He gets to bed at-” “Seven, you know Blaise, I have babysitted Seany before, I know the drill: Dinner’s at 5, so that’s out of the way, if he’s hungry I can give him some fruits, bedtime’s at seven, but it’s no crisis if it gets closer to eight, and there’s food for me in the fridge for me to take whenever I want. I’m not the teenager neighbor you had to book last minute, B,” It was Blaise and Hunter’s date night, and as usual Y/N was there to babysit 'lil Sean.

“Of course, of course! I’m so sorry, just a bit nervous,” Y/N rolled her eyes at her friend, this was what happened each time, and Blaise would always start excusing herself for not 'trusting you enough’. This time, the difference was that Y/N managed to make that part take less time, and she pushed her almost hyperventilating best friend out the door to her husband.

“…And the Flash saves the day yet again,” Y/N closed her laptop and looked over to the other end of the couch, where the Flash’s biggest fan of the age of 3 laid with a clear view to her feet. “Kiddo, that was the last article, sorry bud,” “Have you checked Iris West?” What that still amazed Y/N about Sean, was that in spite of his lack of abilities when it came to naming the alphabet, and counting to fifteen like the other kids, he had this huge interest in The Flash – which made him speak of certain journalists as if he knew them. “We just read Iris West, Seany, I’m sorry,“

“What does yours say, aunty Y/N?” Sean looked at her wrist, which Y/N huffed at. 'What is it with this world? Why are everyone so eager on those stupid tattoos?’ But she pulled herself together and forced a smile. "You see, Sean, aunt Y/N isn’t as lucky as all the other ones, her tattoo doesn’t work,” “It doesn’t?” The little boy looked up at her with big, worried eyes, which by some way made Y/N feel bad for him. “No, but I’m sure yours work! Mommy’s and daddy’s worked, I’m just a bit less lucky,”

“Do you think the Flash has a tattoo?” Sean asks, which make Y/N laugh – if those words had come out of any other’s mouth, she would have rolled her eyes. “I believe so, yes,” “You are very pretty, aunty Y/N,” right there was one of the many reasons Y/N loved Sean. Sure, he wasn’t the best at keeping a conversation – that boy was more distracting than any kid Y/n had ever met. But in the end, Sean was this great, funny, bubbly guy that Y/N loved hanging out with. “Thank you, that was a very nice thing to say, you’re very handsome as well," "What if Flash is your soulmate?” Y/N almost choked, but before she could say anything, Sean continued: “Or maybe Patrick, he’s very cool, he works with the big kids,” exhaling, Y/N was relieved her little random, darling duckling was back.

The all too familiar sound of metal meeting glass rang through the room, and so Barry tried his best at not sinking deep into his chair. “I would like to make a toast…” It was his beautiful best friend, Iris, and her fiancé Eddie’s engagement party, and even though he couldn’t be more happy for the two, he couldn’t shake off the sad feeling in his heart. His parents, his friends – it even seemed like the little kids that were running around had found their partners for life. Barry couldn’t take one step anywhere, without being reminded that he hadn’t found his soulmate yet.

“You know, I met my mate at the age of 13,” the drunk next to Barry stated. “I heard the most regular age to meet is between 9 and 23,” Was it Eddie’s cousin that said that? “How 'bout you, Terry? Found the love of your life yet?” 'How did I even end up here?’ Barry smiled at the old man. “No, but I-” “Gary! His name is Gary, grandpa!" "I’ll just go and find Iris,” Barry enlightened to the little party, and then left to do just so.

“Barry! Hey, I haven’t seen you at all tonight!” Iris had clearly gotten a few glasses, but when she saw right through the fake smile of Barry Allen, her tipsy state disappeared right away. “Uhm, babe, I’ll just go get more ice,” once Eddie had given his wife-to-be a kiss in acknowledgment, the two best friends found their way to the porch.

Iris had a feeling what had caused barry’s light frown but had let him talk out about it anyway. “Barry, you’re going to be fine. Look, I’m sure your girl’s just right around the corner, whomever up there would be a real ass if she’s not,” her last comment made Barry smile. “Yeah, of course,” he nodded, regretting that he’d taken his best friend out of her own engagement party.

It wasn’t an everyday thing for Y/N Y/L/N to go to Tiffany’s to eat her breakfast. Thing is, she always had a wish to do so – let her inner Audrey Hepburn shine. So today, she could happily cross it off her bucket list. What she hadn’t thought of though, was Central City being a slightly criminal city, with many jewelry-loving evil metahumans. So in her little black dress, matching gloves, big dark sunglasses and pearl necklace, Y/N witnessed the first robbery in her life. ’It will be fine, Y/N. What’s the odds of anyone coming and ripping off your grandmother’s pearls in the middle of the streets? Oh God, what have I ever done to deserve this?’ Y/N thought of her earlier words to herself, almost shaking by the thought of the scene she frightened happening.

She waited for the alarm that never came and looked around herself. One babysitter strolling with a toddler, a man in a suit, and herself – that meant two witnesses if anything happened. When the nanny and the businessman soon disappeared, Y/N decided to try her breakfast at Tiffany’s another time. 'Time to use those ninja-skills you brag about to Sean,’ “Oh hello,” A not-too-friendly voice spoke up behind her. 'Oh merde,'

Deciding to pretend she hadn’t heard him, Y/N sped up her pace, walking as fast as a girl in heels could. Suddenly she felt her necklace get pulled backward so hard she got troubles breathing, making her whole body follow. “That’s some lovely piece of woman your jewelry got there,” that must have been the lamest, creepiest pick-up line Y/N had ever heard. With no one in sight, she tried her best to distract his attention away from robbing her. But instead of saying: “The pearls were my grandmothers”, whimpers escaped her lips. “Flash,” the meta behind her seemed both tense and annoyed. If she could, Y/N would have breathed out in relief, but that being difficult, she tried her best just breathing normally.

Usually, when Barry went into Flash-mode, he didn’t notice the ones around him that weren’t in danger. His eyes were on the metas, and the metas only, so when he was done defeating the telekinesis, had sped him off to the old particle accelerator, his next task was at hand: Double check on the wounded. Though when he did came back, there weren’t many people at the crime-scene. “Wow…” Barry said quietly, taking in the rich girl’s appearance. Her hair was sat up in a weird, kind of snobbish way, but that suited her in a way. And her lips! Her beautiful, pink lips, parted a bit because of the shock probably. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see the color of her, most likely, stunning eyes. The pearls were placed against her collarbones perfectly, and along with the black dress she looked very put together: Very higher-class: Very not the kind of people Barry hung out with – or were in his league.

At that same time, Y/N had just thawed from her frozen state: It was actually the Flash. He was in front of her. And before she could stop herself, the words spilled form her lips: “Holy shit it’s him,” All she could think about was the face behind the mask. Would his smile match the warm, green and kind eyes? Would his personality do as well? Would he be a stuck up jerk, or the nicest guy possible? She wanted to see him, the real hero under the suit. Though just when she saw a blurred picture of him opening his mouth, Y/N lost control of her now numb body, and passed out.

“Now that’s one fine looking lady you got there, Bar,” Joe said, looking over to the other room at the rich girl. “Pretty good catch if she’s not a monster,” Cisco sucked on his lollypop while following Joe’s gaze. She’d been unconscious for about an hour, and Barry still hadn’t moved his attention from the sleeping beauty. “Yeah…” He had answered, hoping for just that.

Y/N had found out, the hard way, that it was a terrible thing to pass out. Not only the uncomfortable feeling of not being able to see for seconds before she lost it, but also losing control of her legs. When she heard unfamiliar voices around her, Y/N decided it was for the best not to open her eyes completely just yet. “Pretty good catch if she’s not a monster,” 'Oh dear God. I’m in my Holly-costume,“ "Yeah…” 'This honestly can’t get worse’Y/N kept thinking about the endless choices of near futures she had. Her rescuers could be kidnappers. The kidnappers could jury her in many ways, and considering her choice of outfit, robbery didn't seem impossible. 'Oh please God almighty, please say they're not rapists!' "Hey, is it normal for unconscious people to have nightmares?" 'Crap, Blaise was right, I really need to work on my poker face! God dammit Y/N!' Deciding her little act didn't hold, Y/N opened her eyes, the first thing she saw being a wrist with black ink.

"Wow..." That was the second time that day. Barry just couldn't stop himself, her eyes... They were the absolute perfect shade of Y/E/C. "Shit," the stranger girl's words were almost impossible to catch, but Barry did, and saw her eyes glued on his tattoo. His eyebrows furrowed, what was she doing? But once their eyes locked for what had to be the third time that day, he understood. "It's you," he stated. His soulmate nodded. "I'm Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N," She whispered, still looking deep into his eyes. "Barry Allen," at that he closed the gap. They kissed. Her on the bed, and him hovering over her. It didn't take may minutes before Cisco made a big deal out of it. "I told you, man!" He outed right after a wolf whistle. And the happy couple smiled. They had finally found each other. After all that time.

ϟϟϟϟϟ

A/N: The hard part of writing such clichés as a soulmate imagine, is that it’s almost impossible to write good! SO I hope the cuteness (hopefully there’s some cuteness in here…) made up for the bad writing and crappy ending:))

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recentnews18-blog · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/9-weird-and-funny-stories-about-cowboys-no-9-from-donald-trump-and-fake-jessica-simpson-to-fat-tony-romo/

9 weird and funny stories about Cowboys' No. 9: From Donald Trump and fake Jessica Simpson to fat Tony Romo

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Dak Prescott may be the Cowboys starting quarterback now, but Tony Romo will always hold a special place in Dallas fans’ hearts. In honor of No. 9, here are nine funny and/or weird stories associated with the former Dallas Cowboys QB:

9. Pranking his friends

youtube

8. Awkward first date with his wife

Romo’s wife, Candice, started dating the quarterback while she was still in college and interning with the Cowboys, according to her brother (and actor) Chace Crawford. Here’s how he says Romo’s relationship with his sister first started:

“Tony saw her and I guess casually asked her to a movie/dinner date, where you’re eating at the theatre,” Chace told The Rich Eisen Show. “They did that. She was kind of blown away (before the first date). And my parents, being massive Cowboys fans, she didn’t want them in the house. And they said, ‘We’re already here. What do you want us to do?’ And she said, ‘Hide. Hide in the back.’ She made my parents hide. She didn’t realize Tony was coming over to pick her up. It caught her off guard, so she pushes my parents back in the back. … Literally in their master bathroom. I’m not even kidding.”

7. See you in the Super Bowl, Tom Brady

This stuff usually only happens in movies.

After the Patriots played in Dallas in 2015, Romo told New England QB Tom Brady that he’d see him in the Super Bowl that February.

The Cowboys QB made the comment during the postgame handshake following the Patriots’ win over Dallas. It was caught by a mic on Showtime’s “Inside the NFL.”

Romo’s prediction didn’t pan out for Dallas nor New England. The Cowboys wound up going 4-12 and New England lost to Denver (which would go on to win the Super Bowl) in the conference championship game.

6. Swagger at the combine

Think Romo, a quarterback from little ol’ Eastern Illinois, was starstruck by the combine? Think again. Here’s what Rick Gosselin wrote about interviewing Romo at the combine in 2003, well before he ascended to fame with the Cowboys:

Romo was a late addition to the combine as a thrower. Every year the NFL invites 2-3 extra quarterbacks to Indy to throw to the receivers because often times there’s a shortage of arms. Many of the top quarterbacks elect not to throw at Indianapolis, preferring to save their arms for their campus workouts.

I started off by asking Romo about the Walter Payton Award, given annually to the best player at the Division I-AA level.

Gosselin: The question I asked Tony Romo during 2003 combine interview that sent him into full-throttle swagger mode

“I’m not sure how much the Heisman meant to Carson, but it meant quite a bit to me,” Romo answered. “It’s a testament not only to my work over the years but my team’s as well. I wouldn’t have been able to get there if I didn’t have these players around me. We had 4-5 All-Americas. It’s going to be great to look back upon when you’re older. It’s exciting.”

I asked Romo if a quarterback from Eastern Illinois felt at all out of place competing at the combine with quarterbacks from Southern Cal, Florida, Texas and Miami.

“I’m not coming here nervous,” Romo said. “I feel I’m a guy who’s going to rise up. I’ve got a lot of confidence. I feel I’m going to show people I belong and that I can outperform a lot of these guys, hopefully.”

You could detect a bit of swagger then — but that swagger hit full throttle when I asked Romo my final question. How did he end up at Eastern Illinois?

“I was good in high school but not great,” Romo said. “Every year in college I got a lot better. That was progressing me to the point now where, five years later, I felt I could have played at a I-A school. At the end of my junior year, I felt I could have played at a lot of I-A schools. In my senior year I felt I could have played anywhere in the country. I’ve gotten better over the years. I’ve learned how to get better.”

5. The trip to Cabo

Life was good for Romo in 2007….until talk of his then-girlfriend Jessica Simpson jinxing the team began.

It all started when Simpson was spotted at a Cowboys-Eagles game in a pink Romo jersey. Dallas lost and fans heaped all of the blame onto Simpson. The jinx got so much coverage she was nicknamed “Yoko Romo.” (Nickname explained here). She vowed not to wear the pink jersey again.

Then Dallas made the playoffs as the No. 1 seed in the NFC giving them a first round bye. Romo and Simpson decided to go to Cabo, along with Jason Witten and Bobby Carpenter (who?) during the bye. Romo drew massive criticism for the decision.

“You don’t go to Cabo the week before a playoff game,” former Cowboys QB Troy Aikman told Michael Irvin on a radio interview at the time. “You just don’t do it.”

Fans chimed in too, including Garland car dealership Jupiter Chevrolet flashing a clear message on its electronic signboard like in the picture above.

How’d they do in the playoff game? More on that in a minute.

4. Crownies

Arts and Craftsy Tony Romo is still creepy.

3. The Jessica Simpson look-alike

Back to the Romo-Simpson jinx.

After Dallas’ first-round bye (and Romo’s trip to Cabo) in 2007, they faced the New York Giants. Serial-jinxer Simpson didn’t attend the game. So Romo did well then!

Not quite.

He completed just half of his 36 passes against the Giants, throwing a single touchdown and an interception while being sacked twice to finish with a 64.7 quarterback rating. New York QB Eli Manning more than doubled that mark at 132.4 as he led the Giants to a 21-17 win.

So what happened to Romo? The New York Post wound up playing a prank on Dallas by sending a Simpson look-alike to the game. From the Seattle Times:

“Lynsey Nordstrom is a 21-year-old nanny from Bothell who looks like the pop singer and paparazzi target. She’s so similar, in fact, the New York Post flew Nordstrom to Dallas for last Sunday’s NFC playoff game with the Giants to pose as Simpson as a prank.

“That triggered a dizzying week that only a diva — and her dead ringer — could appreciate.

“Simpson is dating Romo, the Cowboys’ quarterback. She attended a Dallas game earlier this season, wearing his No. 9 jersey. The Cowboys lost. Yoko Ono comparisons followed, and Simpson stayed away from the playoff game against the Giants.

“But her look-alike was there. The Post put Nordstrom in a Romo jersey and sat her three rows up from the Cowboys’ bench.

“And Dallas lost again, putting the Giants in the NFC Championship Game — and earning Nordstrom some notoriety.

“She flew to Dallas on Saturday, watched the game Sunday and returned Monday to work a shift as a nanny. She headed to New York that night on a red-eye flight. She has appeared on the cover of the Post, and created such a buzz she was told Donald Trump called the tabloid to ask about meeting her.”

Donald Trump ladies and gentlemen!

2. A message to the Twittersphere

The 2015 season was rough for Dallas. After an emphatic comeback win over the Giants in Week 1, Romo was injured against the Eagles the following week. Dallas lost seven straight games.

At 2-7, Dallas still had hope because Romo was set to return against the Dolphins. And he gave an inspiring message to Cowboys Nation on Twitter.

1. Fat Tony Romo

This story proved that Twitter can take something from nothing and quickly turn it into a meme.

Romo was not overweight heading into the 2016 season. In fact, Cowboys executive vice president Stephen Jones said Romo entered camp in “some of the best shape he’s been in.”

staff/Jon Machota

Cowboys QB Tony Romo jogs at training camp in 2016.

That didn’t matter when it came to the Twitter photo taken by SportsDay’s Jon Machota (as seen to the right of this text).

From Machota:

It certainly appears as if Romo is overweight. He is not. It was some poor camera work on my part. As you can see in the photo at the top of the story and in the video below, Romo is the same size he was during organized team activities and minicamp. …

Cowboys offensive coordinator Scott Linehan also assured that Romo is in good shape.

“I hope they don’t take any pictures of me,” Linehan said. “I don’t think anyone would be interested in me. I’d be embarrassed. They could shoot a lot of holes in my beauty. I stay in my lane, try to take care of myself and stay out of pictures if I can.”

The Internet had a field day with the photo.

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Source: https://sportsday.dallasnews.com/dallas-cowboys/cowboys/2018/07/15/9-weird-funny-stories-cowboys-9-donald-trump-fake-jessica-simpson-fat-tony-romo

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recentnews18-blog · 8 years ago

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New Post has been published on https://shovelnews.com/9-weird-and-funny-stories-about-cowboys-no-9-from-donald-trump-and-fake-jessica-simpson-to-fat-tony-romo/

9 weird and funny stories about Cowboys' No. 9: From Donald Trump and fake Jessica Simpson to fat Tony Romo

This story is about Cowboys

Published 2d

This Story is About…

SportsDayDFW.com Contact SportsDayDFW.com on Twitter: @SportsDayDFW

9. Pranking his friends

youtube

8. Awkward first date with his wife

7. See you in the Super Bowl, Tom Brady

This stuff usually only happens in movies.

After the Patriots played in Dallas in 2015, Romo told New England QB Tom Brady that he’d see him in the Super Bowl that February.

The Cowboys QB made the comment during the postgame handshake following the Patriots’ win over Dallas. It was caught by a mic on Showtime’s “Inside the NFL.”

6. Swagger at the combine

I started off by asking Romo about the Walter Payton Award, given annually to the best player at the Division I-AA level.

Gosselin: The question I asked Tony Romo during 2003 combine interview that sent him into full-throttle swagger mode

I asked Romo if a quarterback from Eastern Illinois felt at all out of place competing at the combine with quarterbacks from Southern Cal, Florida, Texas and Miami.

You could detect a bit of swagger then — but that swagger hit full throttle when I asked Romo my final question. How did he end up at Eastern Illinois?

5. The trip to Cabo

Life was good for Romo in 2007….until talk of his then-girlfriend Jessica Simpson jinxing the team began.

“You don’t go to Cabo the week before a playoff game,” former Cowboys QB Troy Aikman told Michael Irvin on a radio interview at the time. “You just don’t do it.”

Fans chimed in too, including Garland car dealership Jupiter Chevrolet flashing a clear message on its electronic signboard like in the picture above.

How’d they do in the playoff game? More on that in a minute.

4. Crownies

Arts and Craftsy Tony Romo is still creepy.

3. The Jessica Simpson look-alike

Back to the Romo-Simpson jinx.

After Dallas’ first-round bye (and Romo’s trip to Cabo) in 2007, they faced the New York Giants. Serial-jinxer Simpson didn’t attend the game. So Romo did well then!

Not quite.

So what happened to Romo? The New York Post wound up playing a prank on Dallas by sending a Simpson look-alike to the game. From the Seattle Times:

“That triggered a dizzying week that only a diva — and her dead ringer — could appreciate.

“But her look-alike was there. The Post put Nordstrom in a Romo jersey and sat her three rows up from the Cowboys’ bench.

“And Dallas lost again, putting the Giants in the NFC Championship Game — and earning Nordstrom some notoriety.

Donald Trump ladies and gentlemen!

2. A message to the Twittersphere

The 2015 season was rough for Dallas. After an emphatic comeback win over the Giants in Week 1, Romo was injured against the Eagles the following week. Dallas lost seven straight games.

At 2-7, Dallas still had hope because Romo was set to return against the Dolphins. And he gave an inspiring message to Cowboys Nation on Twitter.

1. Fat Tony Romo

This story proved that Twitter can take something from nothing and quickly turn it into a meme.

Romo was not overweight heading into the 2016 season. In fact, Cowboys executive vice president Stephen Jones said Romo entered camp in “some of the best shape he’s been in.”

staff/Jon Machota

Cowboys QB Tony Romo jogs at training camp in 2016.

That didn’t matter when it came to the Twitter photo taken by SportsDay’s Jon Machota (as seen to the right of this text).

From Machota:

Cowboys offensive coordinator Scott Linehan also assured that Romo is in good shape.

The Internet had a field day with the photo.

This Topic is Missing Your Voice.

View Comments

Source: https://sportsday.dallasnews.com/dallas-cowboys/cowboys/2018/07/15/9-weird-funny-stories-cowboys-9-donald-trump-fake-jessica-simpson-fat-tony-romo

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