40s * she/her * obsessed with Star Trek * and Good Omens * but may also include fidgets and slime * there might be music once in a while * This is an 18+ zone NSFW
...where I reblog a lot of Star Trek fanfiction and art, as well as Good Omens news. Please note this is a NSFW 18+ space that is LGBTQ+ and neurodiversity friendly.
I do have a few fics of my own, specifically about Romulans. They are NSFW 18+ for explicit content. Keep reading to see list of my favorites:
Things Unseen
Work in Progress - Chapters 11/?
Rating - Explicit
Pairing - Letant x Female Human OC
Warnings - Angst, Implied Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Minor Character Death, Eventual Smut, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Romulan Hand Play, Kissing, Brief Mention of Tasha Yar/Romulan Relationship Which Implies Dubious Consent on Her Part
(please check all tags on AO3, more tags will be added over time)
Summary - Takes place during (and after) the epsiode "Tears of the Prophets", and tries to give one version of what Senator Letant might be doing when he is not on screen.
Proposition
Rating - Explicit
Pairing - Letant x Female Human Reader/First Person
Warnings - Arranged Marriage, Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Mild Language
Summary - When the Romulan Senate decides not to join the Federation and the Klingons during "Tears of the Prophets", Letant takes one of their alternative suggestions seriously, much to their surprise.
Waystation
Rating - Mature
Pairing - Vreenak x Female Human OC
Warnings - Romulan Spy Stuff, Sex Work, Implied Smut, Alcohol Abuse, Non-Graphic Gun Violence, Vreenak in Disguise
Summary - Takes place before DS9. 'Human' Vreenak attempts to complete a mission for the Tal Shiar on a human colony planet that has technology and culture similiar to the Old West.
Regenesis
Rating - Explicit
Pairing - Vreenak x Female Human Reader/First Person
Warnings - Questionable Star Trek Science, Cat Vreenak, Primate Reader, Reader-Insert, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Biting, One Incidence of Blood Consumption, Explicit Language
Summary - A Federation science officer accidentally infects a Romulan Senator with a virus that changes him into something from his own ancestral past.
Writing Advice that Will Save You from Crying over Chapter 3 Again
☽ Sometimes “writer’s block” is actually just your story being broken and your brain knowing before you do. Respect the vibes, go back. Something stinks.
☽ If you’re stuck in the middle, skip to the part you’re excited to write. Chronological writing is a suggestion, not a law.
☽ “Kill your darlings” is not about deleting every cool thing you love. It’s about not hoarding scenes like a dragon with dialogue you wrote in 2017 that doesn’t even make sense anymore.
☽ You do not need to write like your favorite author. You need to write like you, caffeinated and slightly unstable.
☽ Talking to yourself in the mirror as your character is not weird. It’s called method writing. You’re not unhinged, you’re dedicated.
☽ Aesthetic Pinterest boards and playlists are writing progress if they make you feel like a god again.
☽ You can write the climax before you finish Act 1. You can rewrite Chapter 1 thirty times and then delete it anyway. You’re not behind, you’re in hell with the rest of us.
You’re allowed to write stuff that’s not “marketable.” You’re allowed to be weird. Write the story that would make you feel seen. The niche finds its freaks.
☽ Beta readers are not gods. Take what resonates, ignore what doesn’t. If five people say your story drags at Chapter 8? Maybe listen. If one person says “make it all about the dog,” maybe don’t.
As a professional author, cosigning all of this 1000000%, especially that first point that "writer's block" is sometimes your brain knowing something is broken.
It took me SO FUCKING LONG to learn what that reaction looks/feels like in my mind and body (for example: exasperated boredom of the story, generalized feeling of resentment and peevishness at myself, existential despair every time i look at the document, physical exhaustion or a vague weighty feeling like I'm carrying something heavy, or even just a vibe of "mehhhh don't really feel like it" that goes on longer than a couple days). Once I learned to recognize those signs and translate them to "Oh, did I fuck up four paragraphs ago? Whoops, I sure did!!!", my quality-of-life and my writing output (and my joy in the work) improved DRAMATICALLY.
Also: in my experience, anyway, “writer’s block” isn’t really the writer’s: it’s a character’s. Somewhere there’s usually a conversation—with another character, with you, with the plot—that a significant character is trying to avoid having. (Or that you haven’t worked out that they need to have before the writing can continue.) Go find out what that conversation is, and have it, and the “block” will evaporate.
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
The other night husband and I were watching a documentary about the yeti where they were doing DNA analysis of samples of supposed yeti fur, and every one of them came back as bears.
Anyway, the next night we watched a thing about some pig man who is supposed to live in Vermont. People said it had claws and a pig nose but walked upright like a man. Now, I happen to know that sideshows used to shave bears and present them as pig men. So every piece of evidence they gave of this monster sounds to me like a bear with mange.
So now the running joke in our house is that everything is bears. Aliens? Bears. Loch Ness monster? Bear. Every cryptozoological mystery is just a very crafty bear.
Bears. They’re everywhere. Be wary. Anyone or anything could be a bear.
As the OP of this post, I’m going to threaten that if this gets to one million notes by the 10 year anniversary on 1 June 2026, one year from today, I will get a lower back tattoo of the loch ness bear monster.
It's amazing how much of our knowledge of "animal behaviour" is based on very old studies that just went "we half-starved these animals and put them in a tiny box together and just assumed that whatever they did reflects their natural behaviours and social structures"
Sometimes someone tells me "self-aware animals are ones that pass the mirror test" and it makes me so so tired. And then sometimes they'll even say something like "cat's can't pass the mirror test" and I have to just leave because cats absolutely do know what their own reflection is and how it relates to them as an individual and if they're not passing your test to determine that then frankly that's your test's problem.
And like, the sheer number of animals (especially reptiles and insects) that are just declared to have no social structure and no parental care and then decades later it's like "oh, these spiders do care about their babies!" Yeah i think the guys who wrote about how they didn't might've been somewhat intellectually lazy maybe. The amount of reproductive information that's awkwardly forced into a "males of all species go looking for mates and females of all species are passive recipients who just say 'yes' or 'no', all sex is for reproduction and any homosexual behaviour is one of them getting confused or deceived" is ridiculous.
The assumption that while humans have very mutable and contextual social heirarchies, all other social animals must have incredibly rigid ones and half of what they do is "for dominance", and then people get confused when they "show dominance" to their animals and their animals don't like them. (It's because you're being a bully! Dick behaviour!) The absolute surprise and joy when people document nonhuman animals playing, a normal thing that it's frankly weird that anyone would assume is exclusive to humans in the first place. It's fucking ridiculous.
When this bumblebee study came out, the scientists did the sensible thing they were supposed to do and went "okay, how can we be sure the bees are playing and not confused? How do we know they don't think it's food or something?" and they took that into account and designed their experiments so they could be fairly sure in their conclusions that, yes, the bees are playing. They're not trying to gather food, they're not trying to fight off enemies, they are doing this because it is enjoyable for them."
And just. The sheer amount of people who Would Not Believe that bees could play. "They clearly just think it's pollen" read the paper, no they don't. "Well they think it's dangerous and they're obeying their automatic preprogrammed instincts to protect the nest" no they don't, read the paper. So many people just WOULD NOT accept that bees could choose to have fun.
not to mention "passing the mirror test" assumes all sufficiently sentient beings must have adequate eyesight *rolls eyes* because the number of historic tests that aren't in some way anthropocentric and/or ableist you can count on the fingers of one foot
For all the funny videos of animals barking at mirrors I have never actually seen a pet, mine or otherwise, be confused over a mirror or their own photo. I have, however, seen plenty of animals taught by someone else or even *themselves* to be service animals. Which is part of why I think if you gave just about any animal several days with a mirror or a paintbrush they'd probably figure it out or even get good at it. Our intelligence came from somewhere, we didn't spawn overnight. Just because other animals didn't invent an economy doesn't mean they're not alive or whatever.
Cats are really good with mirrors and phone cameras; there's a lot of videos out there of people using those face filter thingies on their cameras to give their "reflections" cat ears and it freaks the cats out. They look from the phone video to the person and back again like "why the fuck does your reflection look like a fucking monster". Even my chickens, who took over a year to figure out how gates work, learn very quickly to ignore their own reflections in glass.
I submitted this story and one other one to the Next Generation Short Story Awards. My other one didn't place, but it was a story that was deeply soul-enriching and I was extremely proud of it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
An artist’s reconstruction of the world’s oldest modern bird, Asteriornis maastrichtensis, in its original environment.
Asteriornis is one of the oldest-known birds irrefutably belonging to the group Neornithes, which encompasses all modern birds. It possesses characteristics of both galliformes (chicken-like birds) and anseriformes (duck-like birds), indicating its position as a close relative of the last common ancestor for both groups…
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe (can get a bit bleak just a head’s up!)
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests
Thank you so much to everyone who gave the first part of this fic a chance! There will be 4 parts overall, so we're halfway there! Without any further ado, I present Part Two!
Part 1 here.
Cross-posted here.
~*~
Lawrence Baker (MSW) x Reader
[A/N: There will be smut/smut adjacent content in future parts, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]
Warnings: Flirting, they're attracted to each other and not hiding it at all, kissing, a discussed age gap but it's not specific, I can't think of anything else? Protective Seth, maybe?
~*~
I knocked confidently when I reached the Borbey House Sunday night. The ever-stoic face that had been my unfortunate re-introduction to the estate greeted me when it opened.
"Good evening, sir. I believe Mr. Baker is expecting me," I said giving Peter a warm smile, despite his aloof demeanor.
The square jaw and sharp, steely eyes belonging to Mr. Baker's butler weren't quite as intimidating as they had been before. After having seen him with a dot of sky blue frosting on the tip of his nose, I couldn't quite bring myself to be afraid of him.
"Of course. Please, come in." Although taken aback by his newly-found cordial attitude, I crossed the threshold with my head held high. The quiet, familiar creaks of the floorboards in the dark entryway felt as though they were a hug from an old friend. Even after all these years, Borbey House still felt more like home than anywhere else. "May I take your coat?"
Surprisingly gentle, glove-covered hands helped me out of my coat, and I followed Mr. Jatich further into the house. Scaffolding and ladders, saws and pieces of wood stored atop sawhorses littered several open spaces in the rooms we passed creating a sort of construction maze. Given the state of the formal dining room when we passed it - furniture shoved to one side and various bits of drywall and flooring exposed for repairs - I gathered that Lawrence and I would be dining elsewhere.
Sure enough, Peter led me into the lounge instead where a small table was set up near the window. In truth, the room was something of a sitting room and library combined into one. The deep burgundy red of the walls coupled with the dark walnut bookshelves made the space a rather moody one, and incidentally, my favorite place in all of Borbey House. It was peaceful there, and I'd spent many hours curled up in one of the armchairs reading one of the ancient tomes that inhabited the shelves.
I couldn't suppress the smile that stretched my lips as I noted that nothing in here had been changed beyond the drapes.
"Mr. Baker will join you in just a moment. Please, feel free to look around, if you like, but I must insist you stay away from the areas under construction. Mr. Baker would be most displeased should a guest be injured under his roof," Peter said, and despite the vaguely ominous sound of his warning, I got the feeling that he didn't harbor any ill intent.
He closed the doors behind him, and I forced myself to walk at a reasonable pace over to the bookshelves. I hadn't really expected many familiar titles to be left, but I was pleased to note that I recognized almost all of the faded, worn spines. Skimming my fingertips lightly along the titles, I walked over to the hearth where a fire crackled away in the grate.
"Hello, old friend," I whispered touching the intricately carved wooden mantle. Judging by its sheen, the varnish had been given a fresh coat recently. At least Mr. Baker had a good eye for beautiful things. If he'd replaced the mantelpiece, I'd have had good reason to question his eyesight despite those red sunglasses of his.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I missed the sound of the door opening once more.
"My god," a quiet, husky voice murmured, and I turned to see my host looking at me with something akin to wonder in his eyes. "There's an angel in my library..."
A smile stretched his lips, showing off the lines on either side of his mouth. He was a vision in his crisp suit, perfectly polished shoes, and a deep red tie.
"Good evening, Mr. Baker." Mercifully, my voice didn't betray my nerves over being alone with such an attractive man. As he walked slowly toward the hearth where I stood, the fire's light sparkled and danced in his eyes.
"Please, call me Larry," he said grasping my hand and bringing it to his lips. Instead of releasing me afterwards, though, he stepped a little closer and laid my hand over his chest. Lost in his eyes, I was only brought back to reality by the crackling of wood in the fireplace.
"I see you've already made a few changes - improvements, of course," I said as I glanced around the sitting room.
"Forgive me, but you sound as though you've been here before...?"
"Oh, I have." The look of surprise that flitted across his face tugged a mischievous smile from my lips. "The previous owners were family friends long before they moved away. On school nights when my parents had to work late, I'd come here. I practically grew up in this house. I've read the majority of the books on these shelves, and I know many of this old place's secrets."
Taking a few slow steps toward me, Lawrence lifted my hand in his.
"Well, then perhaps you could share a few of them with a curious fellow student of history?" He kissed my knuckles softly and caught me with an utterly smoldering stare as he moved closer.
"I might be persuaded to give you a few hints, but if you keep looking at me like that, Mr. Baker, I might not be able to focus very well."
"Maybe that was my intention," he murmured, laying one of his hands on my waist. The warmth of his body seeped through our clothing easily when he coaxed me up against him. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest as his gaze dropped to my lips. Was he–?
"Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Weatherly is requesting a conversation about the renovations." Peter's voice snapped us both out of our trance, but Larry didn't let me go. He simply swallowed heavily and tightened his grip on my waist.
"I'm busy."
"I'm sorry, sir, but he said it was urgent." No sooner had Peter stopped talking than Charlie strode past him.
"I know it's late, but I fi–" he broke off when he saw me standing in his client's arms. "Oh, I...don't mean to interrupt, but I..."
Lawrence sighed and turned to face his contractor, but his arm wrapped firmly around my middle, making it clear that this was not the end of our discussion.
"This had better be important, Mr. Weatherly," he said with a tight smile. Admittedly, I shared his thinly-veiled frustration.
Charlie's eyes flicked between us. A lingering question about my presence hung in the air, but I didn't shy away. I had as much right to be here as anyone else.
"I have the figures you asked for, b-but they can wait–"
"Then why did you claim it was urgent?"
"Well, it's just that the specs you gave me seem off, sir. No offense, but I'm going to need to take another set of measurements in all the upstairs rooms to confirm–"
"Then take them. Tomorrow. As you can see, I'm entertaining a guest tonight," Lawrence said giving me his most charming smile. "My dear, this is Charles Weatherly, my contractor..."
With a small smile, I nodded my head.
"Charlie and I have known each other for years. He's like an older brother to me," I murmured, and the man in question agreed.
"You look good, kid. Y'know, Mr. Baker, she doesn't pull out that dress for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky," Charlie said as he laid a file on a table near the couch. "I'll leave the preliminary specs with you, and I'll come back tomorrow around nine to take the new measurements, if that's alright."
"Good. Thank you, Mr. Weatherly," my date said as he turned to face me once more. When we were alone again, he tilted my chin up. "Was he telling the truth about the dress?"
My cheeks began to burn under the heat of his gaze.
"You mean, do I really reserve it for special occasions? Yes."
A Cheshire grin split his lips, and he skimmed his thumb lightly over my chin.
"I can think of no higher honor than for you to consider this evening with me special," he murmured, "especially after your less-than-warm welcome."
"You were charming enough to make up for it," I mused gliding my fingertips along the lapel of his suit jacket. Larry smirked at that.
"Damn, you're dangerous. You really do know how to stroke a man's ego, don't you?" At his inquiry, I leaned in and whispered teasingly into his ear.
"You don't know the half of it." His hands gripped my waist tighter as a groan escaped him.
"Perhaps we ought to change topics before I do something impulsive," he murmured. "You said that you spent a great deal of time here over the years, yes?"
"Absolutely."
"Then perhaps you'll recognize this," Larry said walking over to a small set of drawers and opening the top one. He closed it after pulling out something small. When he turned around, something small and metallic glittered in his palm. I took a closer look and froze.
It was an earring - small red beads secured by golden wire. I had a similar pair, but mine had green beads instead of red.
This was Laurel Perrin's earring. She was wearing it the day she disappeared. She'd been in the Borbey House, but why? And, where was the other one? Had this simply fallen off, or had she removed them and lost one?
"Darling?" My date's voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I realized how long I'd been silent. He looked worried. "Are you alright?"
Forcing myself to smile, I nodded my head.
"Oh, yes! I'm fine. Sorry, it's just...well, I haven't seen this is in so long. I was wondering where it had been." Guilt began to gnaw at me as soon as I opened my mouth. What I'd said was technically only half a lie. The earring had been lost along with Laurel, and I hadn't expected to see it again unless she was found, so...? No, there was no disguising it: this was definitely a lie. I just hoped Larry wouldn't see through it yet. I needed to figure out what this meant, and...well, I really did like him. I didn't want to deceive him, even with innocent intentions, but my experience with Jessica and her mysteries made it crystal clear that sometimes it was necessary in order to discover the truth. "Thank you. I never thought I'd see this again."
That much, at least, was true.
"You're very welcome. I'm honored to have had the chance to return something so pretty to its rightful owner," he said skimming his knuckles lightly down the side of my face. His eyes dropped to my lips, and I wondered if he would kiss me tonight. "You mentioned something about this place holding secrets. I don't suppose I could convince you to show me one of them tonight...?"
With a smirk, I slipped the earring into the small clutch purse I'd brought with me and walked over to the bookcase. Curling a finger at him, I watched with feline satisfaction as Larry came toward me.
"Have you looked through all of these books?" I asked, and he lifted an eyebrow.
"Well, not yet. Some of William Borbey's personal diaries and a few pretty little first editions," he said watching me carefully as I reached up and caressed the spines of a few leatherbound books. "Why?"
"Because, I think this one in particular might interest you," I said pausing with my finger atop the volume and looking at my date. Allowing him to do the honors, I moved my hand, and he pulled the book from its spot. When I lifted my eyebrows encouragingly, he opened the cover to find glued together pages with a slot carved in the center. Inside was a small, pocket-sized book with long-yellowed pages covered in beautiful cursive writing.
"A book within a book?" He mused as he set the larger of the two down to focus on the smaller. "'Amidst the roses, she shines like the moon and all the stars. O, my lovely Sarah, a single day without you is as the ending of the world.' William Borbey wrote this, didn't he?"
Larry looked at me, thoroughly intrigued, and I nodded my head.
"I found that years ago. When I told the Masons - the people who used to live here - they agreed that it should be kept intact with the house," I explained. "When they sold this place, I was worried it might be torn down for some new real estate venture or someone who might not care for the place as well as it deserved. That's terribly sentimental, I know, but with little historical secrets like that dotted around the house..."
I trailed off with a shrug and Larry set the little book atop its container novel before taking my hands in his grasp.
"Well, I certainly hope that I will prove to be a worthy resident." His clear, blue eyes searched mine, and in such close proximity, I felt as though my soul was laid bare for him.
"I think you will be," I murmured, hoping that my voice sounded much steadier than I felt. "Now, tell me, how did you know that was written by William Borbey after just those two short sentences?"
At that he smiled just as deviously as I had earlier.
"He left diaries," Larry stated simply, and I blinked up at him.
"You've read them already? I got the impression that you'd only glanced through them."
"I spent several long days and nights going through each one. I assume you have, as well?"
"From cover to cover!" At my confirmation, my date looked utterly gleeful. In the brief pause before we launched ourselves into a conversation that would ultimately last us until well past midnight, Peter laid our dinner out on the little table by the window and excused himself for the night.
When we finally realized how late it had become, Larry insisted on escorting me across the street personally, arm-in-arm.
"I have thoroughly enjoyed your company this evening, and it could simply be an old man's imagination, but I believe - I hope - that I'm correct when I say that you might have as well," he said as we paused before my front door. Moonlight poured down over us, sparkling in Larry's eyes like jewels.
"Of course I did, and you are hardly an old man." Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I smiled up at him only to watch his gaze slip to my lips.
"In that case," he began, "would it be too forward if I begged the honor of a kiss?"
My heart raced in my chest. His consideration for my own wishes coupled with my own desire for him had me moving before I could think. Though it was careful and brief, my lips met his beneath the twinkling stars.
When he finally bade me goodnight with a soft smile stretching his lips, I felt as though I could float.
--
I was only able to sleep for a few hours before I needed to be back at the bakery. My shop opened at nine each morning, but Larry and I hadn't parted company until nearly one thirty. The date - and that lovely kiss - had been worth the slight drowsiness in the morning.
After stocking the cases for the day, I finally got a chance to check in with Seth. The call connected after just one ring, with a rather curt greeting.
"Yes?"
"Seth? Are you alright?"
"Well, you took your sweet time, didn't you, darlin'? I had half a mind to send Sheriff Metzger to do a wellness check. Lord knows the man would have trouble climbing out of a bathtub, but I bet he could manage peekin' through a shop window," the Doctor groused. "I wouldn't put it past that Baker fella to do somethin' unsavory."
I rolled my eyes affectionately at his paranoia.
"We had a perfectly lovely evening, and for your information, Seth Hazlitt, Mr. Lawrence Baker was a perfect gentleman," I emphasized as I wiped down the counter in preparation for my first customers of the day.
"I just had Loretta from the beauty parlor in here askin' after you. Apparently, there is a rumor circulatin' that you didn't leave the Borbey place until damn near two o'clock!"
A sigh escaped me. Several ladies on my street frequented Loretta's, so I couldn't exactly pinpoint who'd spied on us. Ah, the hazards of life in a small town like Cabot Cove.
"What can I say, Seth? I don't have to justify my behavior like a wayward teenager." Tossing the cloth I'd been using into a small bin for things that needed to be washed, I readjusted the phone against my ear. "He and I got talking, lost track of time, and I got home late. So what? Seth, he's knowledgeable and funny. I enjoyed his company."
The doctor grumbled under his breath.
"Just as long as he doesn't try anything."
"He wouldn't dare, and even if he did, I can defend myself," I said trying to reassure him. When all he gave me was a noncommittal harrumph, mischief poked me firmly. "Besides, he's a great kisser. Talk to you later, Seth!"
While he was still spluttering in outrage, I set the phone back on its cradle and giggled a bit to myself. I'd pay for that later, but that was alright. I'd box up a half dozen of his favorite muffins before the day was done as an apology.
--
One apology, several dates, and a few weeks later, I found myself in Philip Holt's store with Jessica. As she perused his wallpaper sample books, I glanced curiously at a few items on display. Within moments, Philip Holt was by my side. His daughter was engaged to Laurel's brother, Dave, and since I'd been Laurel's friend for so many years, Mr. Holt was a good friend.
"I'm worried about you." Philip's murmured comment as I browsed his inventory made me look up at him. "That Baker fellow...nobody knows anything about him other than he's apparently rich."
I knew he meant well since he'd known me and my family for the majority of my life, but I still bristled with indignance. Did the entirety of Cabot Cove have an opinion about my seeing Mr. Baker?
"They don't seem to care that his life isn't their business, either–"
"No, you don't understand. I had Bill Truslow over at the bank check up on him, and–" he broke off as Mrs. Fletcher brought a swatch of wallpaper over to the counter. "Find what you need, Jess?"
"Yes, I think this would be perfect, but I feel like I should ask first: how long would it take to get if you ordered it?"
I was grateful for the topic change, even if it was unintentional on my friend's part. I moved down the counter and flipped open one of the sample books in an effort to look busy.
"We've got that in stock," Mr. Holt said checking his records.
"Oh wonderful!" Mrs. Fletcher let out a sigh of relief about something finally going her way. "I think my luck is finally changing."
"That pattern will be lovely, Jess," I chimed in while I skimmed through the wallpaper swatches.
"You said it would take two rolls to cover the bathroom?" She asked, and Mr. Holt gave her a confirmation. "Good, then I'll take those with me."
"I'll go grab 'em for you," he said making his way through the doors at the back toward his stock room. In the meantime, I closed the sample book and walked over to Jessica.
"The new contractor is coming over at seven tomorrow morning," she murmured. "Hopefully he won't abandon me like Charlie did for the Borbey house job."
Before I could say a word in reply, though, the door to the shop opened with a jingle. With a crisp, tailored suit, a fancy red tie, and perfectly polished shoes, Lawrence Baker walked into store looking like a million bucks. He closed the door after himself, glanced at the empty space behind the counter and looked around the store until his eyes met mine. The smile that spread across his lips sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.
"Good evening, Larry," I called as he reflexively straightened his suit and made his way over to us. He lifted my hands to his lips and gave my knuckles a near-reverent kiss.
"Hello, beautiful," he murmured, and for the first time he caught sight of the fact that we weren't alone. He looped one his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against his side as he turned to face Jessica.
"Mr. Baker, this is a very dear friend of mine, Jessica Fletcher. Jess, this is Mr. Lawrence Baker." He shook her hand warmly.
"Ah, Mrs. Fletcher. Yes, I recognize you from the photographs on your book jackets. It's a pleasure, madam. I understand we're sharing a contractor."
"Well, we were until today," she corrected, and she did a very good job not expressing her frustration as she had earlier that day with me and Seth.
"I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience," Larry said giving her an apologetic smile.
"Here you are, Jessica," Mr. Holt called as he carried the rolls of wallpaper in from the back. He looked up as he crossed the space, but when his eyes hit Mr. Baker, he froze and his jaw clenched. Larry was unfazed.
"Ah, Mr. Holt. Just the man I wanted to see," he said as the man in question resumed his route to the back of the counter. "You see, I wanted to speak to you before you closed about the property that you have for sale on the road just south of town."
"It's not for sale," the merchant grumbled as he set Mrs. Fletcher's wallpaper down and placed his hands firmly on the counter, "and we're closed."
Larry let out quiet laugh.
"Not according to your sign, and my understanding is that the property is for sale." At Philip's scowl, Mr. Baker lifted an eyebrow. "Really, sir, if you treat all of your customers like this it's a wonder you're still in business."
"We have nothing to say to one another, Mr. Baker."
"I think we do. It's obviously not about real estate, though, is it?" He asked as he gripped my waist a little tighter.
"Philip–"
"You keep quiet," he snapped at me before turning back to Mr. Baker. "And you. You're old enough to be her father!"
"Well, judging by your behavior, I'm not sure you are." I bit my tongue quietly so I wouldn't laugh at Mr. Holt's stunned expression.
"Leave her alone and get out," he growled.
"I'll see you tonight, won't I?" At my affirmative answer, he gave a devilish smirk. "In that case, good evening, Mrs. Fletcher."
Not caring one whit about the shop owner's order, Larry tilted my chin up and gave me a gentle, unhurried kiss.
"See you soon, my darling." With a wink, he finally released his grip on my middle and left the shop, the bell over the door ringing in his wake.
"Was that behavior really necessary?" I asked fixing Mr. Holt with a glare which he returned steadily.
"You ask him who he is and where he comes from."
"What on earth are you talking about?" I asked raising an eyebrow in confusion.
"I was trying to tell you before he came in. Bill Truslow over at the bank did some checking on Mr. Baker at my request," Mr. Holt started. "There was no record. Nothing! Nobody ever heard of Lawrence Baker!"
That didn't necessarily mean anything on its own. He was rich enough to keep his life private, if the rumors were true. It wouldn't be the first time somebody shut up some officials with a cash incentive. True, it wasn't the most moral way of ensuring privacy, but it was effective.
"That's interesting," Jessica piped up. "According to Eve Simpson, he paid cash for the Borbey House."
Mulling this new information over, Jessica and I left Mr. Holt's store. By the time reached the street corner where we were supposed to part ways, I'd come up with a few different possibilities for why Mr. Baker would have no background and want to leave no paper trail.
Jessica called my name, and I turned to her.
"I'm not one to interfere with peoples' private affairs, but you will be careful around Mr. Baker, won't you?" She implored, and I agreed. Jessica was just being cautious, and I couldn't really blame her. Especially not when she was the queen of mysteries. She'd written about convicts and criminals enough that she was always that extra bit careful when circumstances seemed suspicious.
And, she was usually proved right, in the end.
Thus, I made a mental note to do a little covert reconnaissance the next time I saw Larry. A few delicately posed questions wouldn't give me away. After all, we were still getting to know each other. Questions were only natural at this stage. I just hoped I could find a way to ask them discreetly.
(The best of this post and its reblogs, but with links that work)
Here is a website where you can scroll down to all the different levels of the ocean
Here is a website where you can see the future of the universe (can get a bit bleak just a head’s up!)
Here is a website where you can press a ‘make everything okay’ button, over and over, until things really are okay
Here is a website that you can read if you feel like a burden
Here is a website where you can look at strobe illusions (TW strobe/flashing)
Here is a website where you can cut stuff up (TW blood/sh)
Here and here are websites where you can play with sand
Here is a website where you can draw with macaroni and other fun foods
Here is a website where you can paint someone’s nails
Here is a website where you can grow a garden with emojis
Here is a website with hundreds of videos of people hugging you (rightfully dubbed ‘the nicest place on the internet’ because it really is, y’all, it made me cry)
Here is a website that will take you to other useless websites
Here is a website where you can make a tiny cat play bongo drums (and other instruments!)
Here is a website to help give you gentle reminders <3
Here is a website where you can grow a tiny farm
Here is a website where you can take a bunch of scientific personality tests