#square filled: toxic family

[sapphireginger]

Title: Drowning Out Sound - Chapter #6

Pairings: None [Gen]

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Word Count: 1,555

Warnings: 

Panic Attack Minor Character Death (Off Screen/Mentioned)

Square Filled: Toxic Family

Written For: @anyfandomangstbingo

Full Fic AO3 Link

Summary:

Third grade is even better than second was and Stiles is enjoying every moment of it. His favorite thing is when he gets to read. Since Stiles was little, he has always loved reading. He is like a sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge he can. Callie’s older brother suggested he read The Hardy Boys and Stiles eagerly gobbles up all fifty-eight of them.

Callie suggests Goosebumps and Stiles gives it a try, but they don't appeal to him. He still thanks her for the suggestion. His favorites to read are The Chronicles of Narnia, Charlie Bone, The Giver and he actually really likes the Nancy Drew books too. That’s what he’s reading today.

Summer ends and on the last day before school starts back up, the kids–Malia, Stiles, Jackson and Callie–all head to the park near the Hale’s house. Stiles giggles as the girls put a crown on his head that they made out of flowers. Jackson takes a picture of him and then grumbles halfheartedly when he gets his own crown. They’ve played for hours all summer long and Stiles plays with Callie nearly every day. She is his best friend.

Stiles starts some more rigorous and in depth therapy with Doctor Bowen to talk about what his mommy did. Jackson and Malia walk him to class and home. Sometimes they even ride the bus with him so he’s not alone.

Third grade is even better than second was and Stiles is enjoying every moment of it. His favorite thing is when he gets to read. Since Stiles was little, he has always loved reading. He is like a sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge he can. Callie’s older brother suggested he read The Hardy Boys and Stiles eagerly gobbles up all fifty-eight of them.

Callie suggests Goosebumps and Stiles gives it a try, but they don't appeal to him. He still thanks her for the suggestion. His favorites to read are The Chronicles of Narnia, Charlie Bone, The Giver and he actually really likes the Nancy Drew books too. That’s what he’s reading today.

Now that Stiles is seven, Jackson, Malia and he are in third grade. Stiles is technically doing fourth grade work but now that he’s fully attending public school, he wants to stay in the same class as Malia and Jackson. Aunt Talia talked with the school and got it all sorted out. He just does different schoolwork but is physically in the same classroom as his siblings.

At recess, a car pulls up to the school. It’s not unusual for people to come and go during the school day but for some reason, Stiles’s stomach starts to churn with rapidly rising anxiety. He doesn’t know why but his heart jumps to his throat when the car door opens. Zuri is right there with him to calm him as he lays eyes on the person exiting the car.

Malia looks over, noticing her brother isn’t paying attention to her anymore, nor his book or anything else. Well, that’s not true exactly. He’s looking at–‘Uh oh,’ she thinks to herself and quickly rushes to her brother’s side. The woman whose eyes are scanning the playground is someone who definitely shouldn’t be here. Malia knows she has to tell her daddy. Carefully she pulls out her phone and almost misses Stiles speaking.

“Mo’my?”

It startles Malia because Stiles rarely talks, usually using sign language now for everything. He only speaks vocally to daddy or to the family at home. She doesn’t get to dwell on it long as she hears the woman speak.

“Hi baby,” Claudia says. She has a soft, disarming smile on her face, but Malia can see how tense Stiles is. She grabs his hand as Claudia speaks again. “I’ve missed you baby boy.”

Of course, Stiles doesn’t hear her, and Malia is glad.

He turns to Malia.

> Why is she here? I want daddy.

His hands tighten on Zuri’s leash as they begin to shake.

Malia nods and texts their daddy before glaring at Claudia. Her eyes are cold as she stares at the woman who hurt her brother. She places herself in front of Stiles with her arms crossed, cutting Claudia off from seeing him.

Peter’s reply is instant, and Malia relays the text to Stiles.

> Daddy is coming. He says stay put.

Stiles nods. “Da’dy.”

Claudia’s face, that had been sporting an easy smile, now changes in an instant, turning furious. How dare her son call Peter daddy. Unable to accept this, she starts shouting at them. She says awful things, none of which Stiles hears. Malia hates her even more now. If she truly cared about Stiles, she would realize that he can’t hear her, but Malia is glad Claudia doesn’t know. She comforts her brother and hopes their daddy gets there soon.

Not even five minutes later, Peter arrives and scoops Stiles up, grateful for the deafness if only because it means he won’t hear Claudia’s cruel words.

Malia hears the words though and Peter has to wrap his arm around her, so she doesn’t go off on Claudia herself. Peter can barely contain his own anger that somehow this woman has shown up when she was never supposed to get out or have access to Stiles ever again. His attention is quickly diverted to the boy when a small hand waves at him.

Stiles signs.

> I want to go home.

> We are going home right now dearheart. I’ve got you. You’re safe now.

It’s only then that Claudia has stopped speaking as she watches the signing between the man and her son. Since when is her baby deaf? Before she can ask, she’s being arrested and put in the back of a squad car. No matter how much ranting and raving she does, they don’t let her go and her manipulation which got her out of the asylum in the first place doesn’t help her either. The only thing it does is to show that she is a danger to society and especially to her son.

So, she is forced to watch her son leave again while the police drive away with her in cuffs and without what she came for. This time, Claudia is sentenced to life in a maximum security asylum and blacklisted from any visitors. The one time she tries to seduce a guard she ends up in isolation for three days. It takes three instances of that for her to stop trying. Claudia doesn’t give up on getting out, but she changes tactics.

This behavior continues until the day she gets a visitor, not knowing it’ll be her last one. If Peter has someone visit her to explain exactly what will happen if she pulls that shit again well that’s between that person and her. After all, Peter made a vow, and he will see it through.

He’s not a heartless man nor an evil one, but when the news comes a few months later that Claudia is dead, he doesn’t shed a tear and when he tells Stiles, the boy breathes a sigh of relief.

💦🫧👂🏻•💙•👂🏻🫧💦

For the last couple of months of third grade, Malia and Stiles are homeschooled by Talia. Peter refuses to let them go back to that school as he feels they were very incompetent when it came to the children’s safety. Talia and Marie support him and the three adults look into alternative schooling options.

Stiles is sulking most of the summer. Even though he gets to see Callie a lot, he’ll be switching schools and he’s worried that he’ll lose his friend. So, when he and Malia are enrolled in Lupus Luna Academy Prep and get their uniforms, he is stunned to see Callie there too. He doesn’t let go of her hand the entire tour.

Lupus Luna Academy Prep is a school for the deaf and the three children, especially Stiles, thrive there.

Malia is fiercely protective of her brother and sticks by his side constantly. Callie takes his other side and Zuri is always right there to keep him safe. It makes Stiles feel protected to have Malia on his left, Zuri on his right and Callie next to Zuri. Jackson stays at the public school, but he always does his homework side by side with his siblings.

They are all going to be eight soon and have decided to have a big party for all of them, Callie included. Summer comes and the four kids have been begging their parents to go to Waterloo Heights Summer Camp, now that they are old enough.

Talia paid for two weeks for each of them as an early present and they are all currently packing. Callie’s parents are letting her stay tonight so she’s ready to go first thing in the morning and they won’t have to drive her over.

As the kids pile into the living room for a movie with Zuri in the middle of them next to Stiles, there’s an air of excitement that grows higher the closer it gets to the day they leave for camp. They all snuggle together as the movie Fox and the Hound plays on the tv. Stiles lets Callie hold Vixie, his stuffed fox and when she offers him a smile Peter can’t help but notice that his son seems to have a little crush, his cheeks flushing a light shade of pink.

Peter silently steps up behind his wife, who is watching the children from the doorway and wraps his arms around her waist. She settles back against him and hums when he rests his chin on her shoulder. Their eyes never leave the sight before them. It’s calm and relaxed in their home and something about the peace and happiness makes all the tears and pain of the past seem nonexistent.

So, they take time to cherish the moment when smiles are everywhere and their home overflows with love and contentment. It’s one of the many reasons Stiles loves being a Hale.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Ride Of Your Life

Pairing: Biker!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: douchey ex, minor angst

Summary: After an aggressive confrontation with your ex, Bucky comes to your rescue. He takes you on the ride of your life, unknowingly giving his heart to you as much as you give yours to him.

Squares Filled: vigilante (2020) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Maybe this time will be different. Maybe this time you’ll be able to have a civilized conversation with your ex. He has been holding your shit hostage and refuses to give it back until you two sit down and have a conversation about your relationship. He was a shitty boyfriend and crazily jealous which is one of the many reasons why you broke up with him, so you’re hoping that by meeting up in public, he’d be reasonable and give you your shit back.

You look around the parking lot of the park you’re in and notice a group of guys on the other side talking and laughing with each other. Bucky hasn’t seen his friends for weeks since they kept putting off hanging out. They all live in different areas of the state so they make sure to meet up once a week and play catch up.

Bucky leans on his bike and crosses his arms as his friend talks about how great his wife is. Bucky is happy for his friends and their mushy relationships but he’s sick and tired of hearing how in love they all are. Bucky hasn’t had a steady girlfriend since he got out of college and Steve moved out to be with his girlfriend, Natasha. Maybe he’s not putting in enough effort or maybe they’re not, but his relationships never seem to work out. There’s no spark and all he wants is to find that spark with someone.

“Buck, you got the cabin for this weekend?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, all ready to go.”

“I’m so excited to get away from this all and leave everything behind for the weekend. If we’re lucky, I might be able to get my hands on some weed.”

Bucky chuckles at Sam’s comment. Ever since he tried it a few months ago, it’s all he can talk about. If that’s how he wants to unwind, then by all means. Bucky never found the appeal in smoking. If he needs to unwind, he usually likes to ride around town on the back roads for hours. There’s nothing like the thrill of the bike on an empty road. He tends to go faster than he should but he always makes it home, and he prays every day that he always makes it home.

Bucky scans the park and notices a family of four playing with their dog, a mother and her two children on the swings, and a beautiful young woman standing on the sidewalk like she’s waiting for someone. He does a double take, enthralled by her beauty. He’s met a lot of women in his day but he’s never seen someone with such raw beauty before. Why is she standing there alone? Who is she waiting for? Boyfriend? Husband? If she’s waiting for a ride, where is she going? Home to someone or to no one?

“What do you think, Buck?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want to do,” he mutters having heard none of what Steve said.

The woman looks at her watch and then around anxiously. So, she’s waiting for someone. Husband? Boyfriend? Ex? By the look on her face, she’s not excited to meet this person. Ex, Bucky decides. She clenches her hands into fists by her side. Something isn’t right. Suddenly, the loud roar of a black Camaro comes speeding into the parking lot and stops right next to the woman.

“About time you showed,” you complain.

“Calm down. I’m here now.” Peter, your ex, gets out and walks over to you. “Come to your senses and want me back?”

“No, I want my shit back. Seriously, when can I come over and get it?”

“Never.”

“Peter.”

“We’re not done. You’re just overreacting. When you’re done having a tantrum, call me and we can talk about you moving back in.”

“We’re not getting back together. I made myself perfectly clear when I broke up with you. We’re toxic and I refuse to lessen myself for you.”

Peter looks around with a smirk and leans against his precious Camaro that he’d never let you drive.

“Where are you gonna go? Your parents are living two states away and you have no friends. You gonna live alone? You can barely eat alone much less live by yourself.”

Heat flourishes on your cheeks as anger bubbles in your chest. He has no right to talk to you this way. You hate the fact that you don’t have friends. All of your friends are his, and guess who took his side in the breakup? You might have put up with his bullshit in the past but you’re done now. You didn’t call him out here to fight with him.

“Yeah, I don’t have friends. You made sure of it. Don’t worry about me. That‘s not your job anymore.”

“Oh, yeah? Who’s job is it now?”

You open your mouth to say, “me” but what comes out is something entirely different.

“My new boyfriend.”

Peter doesn’t like that. He stands to his full height and stalks to you with a scowl on his face.

“What did you just say?” You open and close your mouth like a fish, unable to form a response. “Who’s going to want to put up with you? I’m sorry sweetheart, but I’m just trying to help.”

“Try less,” you glare.

“Come on, let’s go home. We’ll talk there.”

“No, I‘m not going anywhere with you.”

“Get in the car, Y/N.”

At this point, Peter is screaming at you which you don’t like since there are other people around. Unfortunately for your ex, Bucky and his friends heard everything. They get on their bikes and ride over to where you and Peter are, and you look at them in shock. Bucky is the first off his bike and places himself between you and Peter. Bucky has at least seven inches on Peter but Peter has more muscles than he does. However, there are more of them than Peter and he realizes that.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks you without taking his eyes of Peter.

“Yeah, because he was just leaving, weren't you, Peter?”

“Not without you.”

“I don’t think you heard her, man. She said you were leaving so leave,” Bucky glares.

“Screw this. When you come to your senses, call me.”

Peter angrily gets back into his car before peeling out of the parking lot so fast that he leaves behind rubber marks on the road. Bucky relaxes once he’s gone and turns to you with soft eyes.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, that was my ex. He has my shit and won’t give it back to me. I’m this close to calling the police and forcing him to give it back. I thought we could be friendly and talk like adults. I guess not. Thanks for coming over.”

“No problem,” Bucky says and licks his lips.

That simple act shouldn’t have given you butterflies but it did. You’re not going to lie, Bucky is attractive in a way that makes your panties wet with a single look. Should you really get involved with a man you just met? Someone that attractive is dangerous but you’ve always loved a bit of thrill in your life. Still, you back up from the group and nod in appreciation.

“Thanks, again, but I have a dinner date with my brother and sister.”

“Sure.”

Bucky and his friends turn away but one look at your phone tells you that calling a ride isn’t going to be as simple as it should be. Your phone is dead which means you can’t call an Uber to take you to the restaurant. You’ve never been on the back of a motorcycle but there’s a first time for everything, right?

“Hey, wait,” you call out.

Bucky turns to you and his friends walk off to the side to give you two some privacy.

“My name is Bucky,” he chuckles.

“Bucky, I wouldn’t ask this if it wasn’t my last resort but my phone died which means I can’t call an Uber to the restaurant. Can I use your phone?”

“Yeah.” Bucky starts to pull his phone from his pocket but pauses. “Or…”

“Or what?”

“I have a second helmet. I can take you where you need to go. Save your money.”

“Seriously? We just met.”

“Your point being?”

You look around and debate whether or not to trust the guy enough to get on the back of his bike. He did just save you from Peter which earns a certain level of appreciation from you.

“Okay, yeah, I could use a ride.”

“Boys, I’ll see you later,” Bucky says to his friends. They all get on their bikes and ride out of the parking lot, leaving you two alone. “Have you ever ridden a bike before?”

“No.”

“Okay, first things first, when I turn, lean with me. It might feel like you’ll fall off but it’s best to do it that way. Secondly, there aren’t any handlebars so you’ll have to wrap your arms around my waist.” You could have sworn you saw the hint of a smirk on his face. “Lastly, tell me if you’re ever uncomfortable. There are mics in the helmets so we can communicate.”

“Lean, squeeze, talk. Got it,” you nod.

Bucky takes the second helmet and slides it over your head. He makes sure it’s on comfortably before tipping your head back and strapping you in securely. He takes his own helmet and slides it on over his head while keeping the visor open.

“Okay, before we get on, you realize that you’re trusting me with your life, right?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“No.”

“Okay. Let’s ride.” Bucky gets on first and looks at you. “Grab onto my shoulders and swing your leg over.” You do as you’re told and ignore how defined his muscles feel even under his leather jacket. “You ready?”

“As ready as you.”

Both of you put your visors down before Bucky peels out of the parking lot. He loves driving fast but precious cargo is on board and he doesn’t dare scare you on your first ride. You wrap your arms tightly around his waist, again, ignoring how defined his muscles are. A feeling of complete bliss washes over you as you let the wind hit your skin. This is so much different than you thought it was going to be. It feels so much freer like you can do anything you want to do.

The drive is short since the restaurant isn’t that far away, and you’re sad that the ride is over.  Twenty minutes with Bucky has been so much better than the two years you wasted with Peter. When Bucky parks, he’s the first one off so he can help you off it. You grab his hand and swing your leg off the bike. Again, butterflies erupt in your stomach at the simple gesture. You take off your helmet and hand it back to Bucky who takes his own off.

“Thank you for the ride.”

“No problem.”

“God, I’ve never felt like that in my entire life. I never knew riding a bike could feel so… freeing. Like I can do anything right now. I feel alive.”

“Yeah, that feeling never goes away,” Bucky chuckles and leans against his bike.

“I hate to part ways but they’re waiting for me inside. Thank you again.”

Before you can take one step, you’re being pulled into Bucky. He slides his hands into your hair and presses his lips to you. Your brain short-circuits as you try to process what is happening but damn, he has such soft lips. He slips you the tongue which causes you to immediately pull away from him. You didn’t do that because you didn’t like it, only because you’re overwhelmed.

“What was that for?”

“Your ex is in the parking lot watching.” You turn your head to look for Peter but Bucky grabs your chin and keeps your gaze on him. “No, no, eyes on me.”

His eyes are so blue that it’s making your head dizzy. Peter’s Camaro starts and he drives away angrily. When Bucky knows Peter is gone, he leans in and kisses you again, this time more slow and sensual.

“That was because I’ve wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw you.”

“You think you’re charming, don’t you?” you chuckle and step back from him.

“I’d like to think so.”

“Yeah, well, you are.” He laughs and you melt for his smile. “I gotta go in.”

“This is the part where I ask you for your name and number.”

You stop by the front door and turn to him with a sly smile.

“My name is Y/N.”

“And your number?”

“You found me once, you can find me again.”

With that, you go inside and take Bucky’s heart with you.

x

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[vandaliatraveler]

Walk with me: Mid-summer hike through a Central Appalachian forest. As summer hurtles toward its final explosive act, the forest's living things embrace urgent, primordial impulses triggered by shrinking daylight: to bloom, to seed, to feed, and to reproduce before the killing frost of Autumn shocks the earth into hibernation. In the deep forest, the fetid perfume of decaying fungi signals the countdown has begun. From top: a bumblebee traversing the fanning pink flowers of hollow-stemmed Joe-Pye weed (Eutrochium fistulosum); the maturing red stem and flowers of seedbox (Ludwigia alternifolia), also known as rattlebox and square-pod water-primrose, a very attractive wetlands annual with four-sided seed capsules; cowbane (Oxypolis rigidior), also known as common water dropwort, a delicate, marsh-loving member of the carrot family that also happens to be toxic; Allegheny hawkweed (Hieracium paniculatum), also known as panicled hawkweed, a spindly-stemmed member of the dandelion tribe; the lovely and hallucinogenic fly agaric (Amanita muscaria); a sprawling colony of sulphur shelf fungus (Laetiporus sulphureus), an edible delicacy otherwise known as chicken of the woods; a red eft (Notophthalmus viridescens); white wood aster (Eurybia divaricata); a twin set of common puffballs (Lycoperdon perlatum); the fungal version of suburban sprawl courtesy of orange moss agaric (Rickenella fibula); a gelatinous serving of orange witches' butter (Dacrymyces chrysospermus); a fiery clump of eastern Jack-o-lanterns (Omphalotus illudens); a potter wasp (Ancistrocerus campestris) drinking from the clumped white flowers of virgin's bower (Clematis virginiana); one of my all-time favorite critters, a locust borer (Megacyllene robiniae), taking its nectar fill from flat-top goldentop (Euthamia graminifolia), also known as grass-leaved goldenrod; a green metallic sweat bee (Augochloropsis ?) finding sustenance from parasol white-top (Doellingeria umbellata var. umbellata), also known as flat-top aster; and the intricate purple flowers of tall ironweed (Vernonia gigantea).

[coffeetank]

One-liners to Use for Toxic Relationships

Some of these are inspired by song lyrics, the others are sentences I made myself. Go ahead and use them as you'd like.

Also note, these can be used to describe toxic relations between family as well alongside romantic relationships. You can also use them as dialogues.

Pain is more trouble than love is worth.

It feels so good but it hurts a lot worse.

Any form of addiction is harmful.

It doesn't square up for whatever has happened.

Where are you now when I need you most?

It's like a tiger using it's claws, except instead of hunting for prey it's killing itself.

There's no home.

I'm wrapped in with the demons.

I crashed and burnt all alone.

It's tough to choose when the only other option is to let go.

Rose coloured glasses all distorted.

He was like a drug that could fill her veins.

Don't say sorry after you've stabbed me in the back.

Now I can't do things without thinking of you.

You will never change, you're just like the rest.

My heart was naive, it took your whims for love.

Now I look for excuses to get away from you.

Between you and me, I was the third person.

If I stay any longer, not even satan will accept me.

Played those games just to test me.

I refuse to be with a traitor.

I let myself drown in the ocean of my own doom.

[bloodreinasbathwater]

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes X Pregnant! Reader

a;n it took me forever to finish this chapter, but I think I'm finally back in my groove. I can't wait for you guys to read I've been so excited to put out more fics.

Warnings: pregnancy, arguing, toxic family, suggestive wording lol, anxiety

masterlist link / previous chapters

summary: Y/N's world is turned upside down when she suspects she might be pregnant. Consumed by fear and uncertainty, she takes a pregnancy test but can't bring herself to face the result. She throws the test away and seeks solace in a hot shower, trying to escape the relentless thoughts plaguing her mind.

word count - 4629

...

Y/N stood before the imposing black door, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to gather the courage to face what lay beyond the wooden door. The sleek, polished surface seemed to mock her, its very presence a reminder of the power her parents held over her life.

The stone wall surrounding the entrance loomed above her, casting long shadows that seemed to reach out and grab at her, pulling her towards the inevitable confrontation.

She inhaled deeply, the cool evening air filling her lungs and doing little to calm the storm of emotions that raged within her. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to turn around, to run back to the safety of the car and drive away, leaving behind the suffocating expectations and demands of her family.

With a trembling hand, Y/N reached out and grasped the golden handle, the cold metal biting into her palm. The sensation was almost a relief, a sharp contrast to the burning anxiety that coursed through her veins. She squeezed the handle tightly, as if the physical act could somehow give her the strength she so desperately needed.

"Come on," Quinn urged softly, his voice a gentle whisper in her ear. She felt the warmth of his hand on her back, a comforting presence that seemed to anchor her in the midst of her thoughts. His touch sent shivers down her spine, a reminder of the love and support that he offered her unconditionally.

At her silence, Quinn pressed harder, his fingers kneading the tense muscles of her back. "It won't go as bad as you think it will. I'll be with you the whole time, honey."

Y/N closed her eyes, trying to draw strength from his words. But the unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach refused to be silenced. "I know, Quinn," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

"It's just... I have a really bad feeling right now. They've never wanted to meet any of my boyfriends, let alone invite them for family dinner. Something about it feels so wrong."

Quinn's hands continued to move along her back, his touch a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. "How about this," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "How ‘bout we play perfect couple with your parents, and then after all of our pain and suffering, we head back home, and I give you one of the Quinn special massages.”

As he spoke, Quinn's hands inched higher, his fingers tracing the delicate curve of her spine before coming to rest on the smooth skin of her shoulders. Y/N couldn't help but let out a soft moan as he massaged a particularly tense spot, the sensation causing her head to fall back against his shoulder. “You can relax and let me take care of things."

"Sound good?" Quinn asked, his voice low and full of promise.

Y/N allowed herself a small smile, the first genuine one she'd felt all evening. "That sounds amazing," she breathed, her body already beginning to relax under his expert touch.

Quinn pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering for a moment before he pulled away. "Let's go before they get suspicious, hmm?"

With a final squeeze of her hand, Quinn stepped forward and rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the stillness of the night. Y/N took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders and preparing herself for the awkward silence and judgmental stares. She knew that with Quinn by her side, she could face anything her parents threw at her.

As Quinn gently pushed Y/N forward, taking the lead and opening the door, they were greeted by an eerie silence that seemed to permeate the house. The absence of voices, the usual bustle of family life, was unnerving, and Y/N felt a chill run down her spine. The only sound that pierced the stillness was the high-pitched, excited barking of the family dog, Cinnamon.

From the shadows, a blur of fur came charging towards them, a ball of energy and enthusiasm that seemed to light up the dimly lit entrance. Y/N couldn't help but let out a squeal of delight as she knelt down, her arms outstretched to catch the wriggling bundle of joy.

"Hi, Cinnamon baby," she cooed, her voice filled with affection as the small dog eagerly licked at her face, its tail wagging furiously. For a moment, all of Y/N's worries and fears melted away, replaced by the pure, unconditional love that radiated from the tiny creature in her arms.

Quinn watched the scene with a smile, his heart warming at the sight of Y/N's happiness. Her laughter, so rare in the face of her family's expectations, was like music to his ears. He chuckled softly as Cinnamon hopped off Y/N's lap and made a beeline for his own legs, her tiny paws clawing at the fabric of his neatly pressed suit pants.

"Hello there," Quinn said, his voice soft and gentle as he leaned down to pat the dog's head. Cinnamon's fur was soft beneath his fingers, and he marveled at the way such a small creature could bring so much joy and comfort to those around it.

But the moment of levity was short-lived, as a voice suddenly spoke from the opposite side of the room, shattering the brief respite from the tension that hung heavy in the air.

"Sorry for the interruption, Miss Y/N," the voice said, its tone formal and detached. "Your parents are ready for you. Please follow me."

Y/N felt her stomach drop at the words, the bitterness and unease settling back into her stomach. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and filled with a silent plea for strength. He gave her a reassuring nod, his hand finding hers and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Together, they followed the worker, their footsteps echoing on the polished marble floor. There was something ominous in the air, a sense of foreboding that seemed to grow with every step they took. But she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Quinn's hand in hers, the strength that flowed between them.

…

Y/N stepped through the sliding door, her heart racing with anticipation and nervousness, she was immediately greeted by the sight of her mother rising from her seat at the table.

Dedra's movements were graceful and measured, her posture perfect and her expression carefully composed. Y/N could feel her father's piercing gaze on her and Quinn, his eyes narrowing as he silently assessed the young man by her side.

Despite the palpable tension in the room, Quinn maintained a charming smile, his demeanor confident and unflappable. He strode towards Derek's seat at the head of the table, his hand outstretched in a gesture of greeting. "Mr. L/N, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, his voice smooth and polished. "I've heard so much about you."

Derek regarded Quinn for a moment, his expression unreadable, before accepting the handshake with a firm grip. "Quinn," he acknowledged, his tone cool and measured. "Welcome to our home."

Y/N quickly guided Quinn to the seat beside her, her fingers lacing with his under the table in a silent show of support. She could feel the weight of her parents' scrutiny, the unspoken questions and judgments hanging heavy in the air.

Dedra, ever the perfect hostess, smiled warmly at the assembled group, her face a mask of polite interest. "Let's begin, shall we?" she said, clapping her hands together. At her signal, a team of immaculately dressed servers emerged from the kitchen, bearing trays laden with an array of sumptuous dishes.

As the servers efficiently set the table, Dedra settled back into her seat, her dress clinging to her figure like a second skin. The chandelier above cast a dazzling light across the room, its crystals refracting and casting shimmering patterns on the walls.

Y/N couldn't help but marvel at her mother's impeccable appearance, the way she seemed to effortlessly command attention and admiration.

But the illusion of perfection was shattered a moment later, as Dedra fixed Y/N with a critical gaze, her lips curving into a small, condescending smile. "Well, you've gotten fat," she remarked, her voice dripping with false concern as she raised a delicate flute of champagne to her lips.

"You know, the past few weeks, your cheeks have seemed to get chubbier. Are you skipping out on that yoga class I recommended?"

Y/N felt the blood drain from her face, her stomach twisting with a mixture of shock and humiliation. She glanced at Quinn, her eyes wide and pleading, silently begging for his support. Quinn's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he fought to maintain his composure.

Clearing her throat, Y/N forced a smile onto her face, her voice trembling slightly as she replied, "I've been focusing on my career, Mom. The yoga class hasn't been a top priority."

Dedra tutted softly, shaking her head in disapproval. "Darling, you know how important it is to maintain your appearance. You don't want to let yourself go, do you? What will people think?"

Y/N bit her lip, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She could feel Quinn's hand tighten around hers, a silent promise of support and protection. But even his comforting presence couldn't erase the sting of her mother's words, the way they cut straight to the heart of her deepest insecurities.

…

As the servers cleared away the first course, Derek turned his attention to Quinn, his eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised the young man. "So, Quinn," he began, his voice deceptively casual, "I hear you're a hockey player. For the Vancouver Canucks, is that right?"

Quinn nodded, his expression confident and self-assured. "Yes, sir. I've been with the team for a few years now. It's been an incredible experience, both on and off the ice."

Derek leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "And what exactly do you do for the team? Are you a starter, or do you mostly warm the bench?"

Y/N bristled at her father's tone, the barely concealed disdain dripping from his words. But Quinn seemed unfazed, his smile never wavering as he replied, "I'm a forward, sir. I play on the first line and contribute regularly to the team's success."

Dedra chimed in, her voice saccharine sweet. "That must keep you very busy, Quinn. Do you have any time for hobbies or interests outside of hockey?"

Quinn chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Of course. I believe in maintaining a balanced lifestyle. When I'm not on the ice or training, I enjoy volunteering at local youth centers, mentoring kids who come from tough backgrounds. I also have a passion for photography and love exploring the city with my camera."

Y/N felt a swell of pride at Quinn's words, the way he spoke with such conviction and sincerity. She knew how much his volunteer work meant to him, how he used his platform as a professional athlete to make a real difference in the lives of others.

But her father seemed unimpressed, his mouth twisting into a sardonic smile. "Photography and volunteering? How... quaint. And I suppose these activities are what brought you and Y/N together?"

Y/N's heart skipped a beat, her palms growing clammy as she anticipated Quinn's response. They had agreed to keep the details of their relationship private, to avoid giving her parents any ammunition to use against them.

Quinn, however, remained unruffled. "Actually, sir, Y/N and I met through a mutual friend. We connected over our shared love of art and culture, and things progressed naturally from there. We've been seeing each other for almost a year now, and I can honestly say that she's one of the most incredible women I've ever met."

Y/N's cheeks flushed at Quinn's words, a warm glow spreading through her chest. But her happiness was short-lived, as her father's expression darkened, his eyes flashing with barely contained anger.

"A few months?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "And you didn't think to inform us of this development, Y/N? Your mother and I have a right to know about the people you associate with, especially when they're..." he trailed off, his lip curling in distaste as he glanced at Quinn.

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She opened her mouth to respond, to defend herself and Quinn, but the words stuck in her throat, trapped behind the lump of fear and anxiety.

Quinn, sensing her distress, reached under the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers in a silent show of support. "With all due respect, sir," he said, his voice calm and measured.

"Y/N is an adult, capable of making her own decisions. Our relationship is built on mutual trust, respect, and love. I understand your concerns as her parents, but I assure you that my intentions towards your daughter are nothing but honorable."

Derek scoffed, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. "Honorable intentions? From a professional athlete? Forgive me if I find that hard to believe."

The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations and barely contained hostility. Y/N's hands clenched into fists beneath the table, her nails digging into her palms as she struggled to contain the rage that boiled within her.

She had endured her father's snide comments and thinly veiled insults all evening, biting her tongue and forcing herself to maintain a facade of civility. But as Derek's words dripped with venom, his contempt for Quinn and their relationship laid bare, something inside her snapped.

"Enough!" she shouted, her voice trembling with barely contained fury. "I will not sit here and listen to you disrespect the man I love, the man who has shown me more kindness and support than you ever have!"

Derek's eyes widened in shock, his face reddening with anger. "How dare you speak to me like that, young lady? I am your father, and you will show me the respect I deserve!"

Y/N laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and grating in the tense silence of the room. "Respect? You want to talk about respect? Where was your respect when you belittled my dreams, when you dismissed my accomplishments as nothing more than frivolous whims? Where was your respect when you tried to control every aspect of my life, molding me into your perfect little puppet?"

Dedra gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in a gesture of feigned shock. "Y/N, please, let's not do this here. We have a guest."

Y/N's gaze snapped to her mother, her eyes blazing with a fury that bordered on hatred. "Oh, spare me the theatrics, Mother. You're just as bad as he is, always pushing me to fit into your narrow little world, to be the perfect daughter you can parade around like a goddamn show pony."

Quinn reached for Y/N's hand, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Y/N, baby, it's okay. We don't have to do this."

But Y/N shook her head, her jaw set with determination. "No, Quinn, it's not okay. I'm done letting them dictate my life, done letting them treat me like some kind of possession they can control."

Derek slammed his hand down on the table, the dishes rattling with the force of his anger. "That's enough, Y/N! I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect in my own home. If you insist on continuing this relationship with this... this hockey player, then you can consider yourself cut off. No more trust fund, no more fancy apartment, no more cushy job at the family company. You'll have to live off your precious Quinn's salary and see how far that gets you."

Y/N stared at her father in disbelief, her heart pounding in her chest. She had always known that her parents' love was conditional, that their support came with strings attached. But to hear it laid out so plainly, to know that they would cast her aside so easily, was a blow that left her reeling.

Slowly, she rose from her chair, her legs trembling beneath her. "Fine," she said, her voice low and steely. "Cut me off. Disown me. Do whatever the fuck you want. But know this: I will never, ever forgive you for this. You may be my parents by blood, but you are not my family. Quinn is my family, and I choose him, now and always."

With that, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room, her head held high and her heart shattered into a million pieces. Quinn followed close behind, his hand resting on the small of her back.

they stepped out into the cool night air, Y/N let out a shuddering breath, her entire body shaking with the force of her emotions. Quinn pulled her into his arms, holding her close as she sobbed against his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt.

"I've got you, baby," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "I've always got you. No matter what happens, we'll face it together. You and me against the world, remember?"

…

Y/N stood motionless in the bathroom, the white tile floor cold and unyielding beneath her bare feet. The room was a sanctuary of sorts, a place where she could escape the chaotic thoughts that swirled through her mind like a relentless whirlwind.

The pale blue walls, once a source of calm and tranquility, now felt oppressive, as if they were closing in on her, trapping her in a prison of her own making.

The air was thick with the scent of lavender and vanilla, the candles she had lit earlier in a futile attempt to soothe her frayed nerves. But even the familiar, comforting aroma couldn't ease the tension that coiled within her, the knots of anxiety that twisted her stomach and made her heart race with a sickening pace.

Her gaze was drawn to the vanity, its white marble surface cluttered with the detritus of her daily life. Makeup brushes and half-empty bottles of lotion jostled for space with hair ties and stray earrings, a chaotic jumble that mirrored the turmoil within her own mind.

And there, amidst the disorder, sat the small, unassuming box that held the key to her fate, the answer to the question that had haunted her for weeks.

With hands that trembled like leaves in a storm, Y/N reached for the box, her fingers clumsy and uncoordinated as she tore at the plastic wrap. The pregnancy test felt heavy in her palm, a tiny stick of plastic that held the power to change her life forever. She stared at it for a long moment, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to summon the courage to take the next step.

y/n had bought the pregnancy test on a whim, a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind that refused to be silenced. She had always taken pride in her appearance, in the way she maintained her figure through rigorous exercise and a carefully controlled diet. But lately, no matter how much she pushed herself at the gym or how little she ate, the numbers on the scale continued to climb.

She thought back to the dinner with her parents, to the cruel words her mother had hurled at her like poisoned darts. Fat. Lazy. Worthless. The insults had cut deep, leaving invisible scars that ached with every breath. And now, with each passing day, those scars seemed to grow, festering like open wounds that refused to heal.

And then there were the other symptoms, the ones she had tried so hard to ignore. The sudden bouts of tearfulness that overtook her at the most inconvenient moments, leaving her sobbing in the grocery store aisle or curled up on the couch in the middle of the day. The strange cravings that hit her out of nowhere, leaving her ravenous for foods she had never even liked before.

With a deep breath, Y/N tore open the box, her hands shaking as she removed the small, plastic stick from its packaging. She read the instructions carefully, her heart pounding in her chest as she followed the steps, her mind racing with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last.

Y/N's mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, each more terrifying than the last. What if she was pregnant? What would Quinn say? Would he be happy, or would he see it as a burden, a trap that would tie him down and ruin his promising career? And what about her own dreams, the hopes and aspirations she had clung to like a lifeline in the face of her family's suffocating expectations?

She felt a sudden wave of nausea wash over her, and she gripped the edge of the vanity for support, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grasp.

The room seemed to spin around her, the walls and floor blurring together in a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and light. She closed her eyes, taking deep, shuddering breaths as she tried to regain her composure.

After what felt like an eternity, Y/N opened her eyes, her gaze falling once more on the pregnancy test that lay on the counter, its display window facing downward. She knew that she couldn't put it off any longer, that she had to face the truth, no matter how painful it might be. With a trembling hand, she reached for the test, her heart pounding in her ears like a drum.

But at the last moment, she faltered, her courage failing her. Instead of looking at the result, she tossed the test into the trash can, burying it beneath a pile of crumpled tissues and discarded cotton balls. She couldn't bear to see the truth, couldn't face the reality of what it might mean for her future.

The sound of the shower called to her then, the steam billowing out from behind the glass doors like a siren's song. Y/N stripped off her clothes mechanically, her mind numb with fear and confusion. As she stepped under the spray, the hot water hit her skin like a thousand tiny needles, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos that raged within her.

She let the water wash over her, her eyes closed as she tried to lose herself in the sensation. The heat seeped into her bones, melting away the tension that had coiled within her like a snake ready to strike. She breathed in the damp, misty air, the scent of her lavender shampoo mingling with the steam in a heady, intoxicating aroma.

Behind her, the pregnancy test lay abandoned in the trash can, its display window hidden from view. Y/N had thrown it away without even looking at the result, too afraid of what it might reveal. She knew that she would have to face the truth eventually, that she couldn't hide from reality forever.  

in this moment, alone in the bathroom with nothing but the sound of the water and the pounding of her own heart, Y/N allowed herself to be still, to exist in a world where the future was still unwritten, and anything was possible.

She clung to that fleeting sense of peace like a drowning woman clinging to a life raft, knowing that it was all she had left to keep her afloat in the stormy seas of her own mind.

…

Quinn turned the key in the lock, the soft click echoing through the stillness of the house. He pushed the door open, the familiar scent of home washing over him like a comforting balm. The living room was dark, the only light coming from the soft glow of the streetlamps outside the windows.

He set his bag down by the door, the heavy thud of it hitting the floor breaking the silence. His shoes came off next, the laces loosened and the soles kicked off with a careless ease. He padded across the carpet in his socks, his footsteps muffled by the thick, plush fibers.

The house was quiet, almost eerily so. Quinn listened for any sign of Y/N, any hint of her presence, but he was met with only the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of a car passing by on the street outside. He wasn't surprised by the silence, given the late hour of his arrival. Y/N was likely already in bed, lost in the sweet oblivion of sleep.

Quinn made his way down the hallway, his steps heavy with exhaustion. The bathroom door was ajar, the soft glow of the nightlight spilling out into the darkness. He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking softly as he stepped inside.

The first thing he noticed was the damp carpet beneath his feet, the fibers squishing slightly with each step. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at Y/N's characteristic forgetfulness. She always seemed to leave a trail of water behind her after her showers, a small quirk that he found strangely endearing.

Quinn reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. The cool air of the bathroom hit his bare skin, sending a slight shiver down his spine. He tossed the shirt into the hamper, the fabric landing with a soft thud amidst the pile of dirty clothes.

He turned on the shower, the water sputtering to life and filling the room with a soft, steady hiss. As he waited for the water to heat up, Quinn's gaze drifted around the small space, taking in the familiar surroundings.

The white tile gleamed in the soft light, the grout lines perfectly straight and clean. The mirror above the sink was slightly fogged, the edges blurred with condensation.

And then, out of the corner of his eye, Quinn caught a glint of something shiny, a flash of light that seemed out of place in the muted tones of the bathroom. He furrowed his brow, his curiosity piqued by the strange reflection.

He scanned the room, his eyes searching for the source of the light. And then he saw it, a small, foil-wrapped object nestled in the bottom of the trash can. His heart skipped a beat, a sudden sense of unease washing over him like a cold wave.

Quinn crept closer to the trash can, his steps slow and cautious. He peered down into the empty bin, his eyes widening as he recognized the shape of the object within. It was a pregnancy test, the plastic stick lying stark and white against the dark plastic of the can.

With trembling fingers, Quinn reached into the trash, grasping the test by its hilt. He lifted it out of the can, his heart pounding in his chest as he turned it over, the display window facing upward.

The moment of truth, the answer to the question that had been weighing on his mind ever since he had noticed Y/N's strange behavior over the past few weeks. The late-night tears, the unexplained mood swings, the way she seemed to retreat into herself, lost in a world of her own thoughts and fears.

Quinn stared at the test, his eyes tracing the lines that appeared in the small window. And then, with a sudden, sickening clarity, he saw it. Two lines, bold and unmistakable against the white background.

Positive. Y/N was pregnant.

Quinn felt the world tilt beneath his feet, his mind reeling with the implications of what he had just discovered. He leaned against the sink, his knuckles white as he gripped the cool porcelain. His breath came in short, sharp gasps, his lungs burning with the effort of drawing in air.

…

Tag List <3

@ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs, @hischierswhore, @alwaysclassyeagle, @shawnshoney, @fearfam69691, @fulla02, @njdkatie, @dancerbailey3. @jamieeboulos, @ceces-obsessions

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Bitter brew of change || Billy the Kid x Murphy!reader

Summary: Victoria Murphy, the niece of rancher Lawrence Murphy, invites Billy over for tea. As their encounter unfolds, Billy's defiance challenges Victoria's arrogance, sparking an unexpected internal struggle within her.

Warnings: sorry reader has a name but feel free to ignore it, reader is a bitch soz, reader smokes (not romanticising) if there's anything else lmk!

Wc: 1,223

Billy the Kid Masterlist

Divider by @pommecita

You lived in the small town of Lincoln, the niece of the influential and feared rancher Lawrence Murphy. You were known for your beauty and high status, but your demeanor left much to be desired. You lived in a lavish hacienda on the outskirts of town, your days filled with the privilege that came from your family name.

"Is it true that Billy the Kid will be working for you, uncle?" You lean forward in you seat, setting the delicate tea cup down before resting your arms on the armchair.

Major Murphy arches an eyebrow in your direction, his tone laced with a hint of amusement. "It seems you're quite curious about my affairs, dear Tori," he murmurs, a cigar nestled between his lips as he expertly lights it. As you observe, his face transforms into a canvas of pure bliss upon exhaling.

When whispers echoed through the town that Billy the Kid, the infamous outlaw, was making his way to Lincoln to join forces with your uncle, intrigue coursed through your veins. For months, tales of the daring and handsome young gunslinger had reached your ears, and what you desired most was not just to hear stories, but to talk to him face-to-face.

You casually shrug, effortlessly retrieving a cigar from your purse and igniting it with a swift movement. "I want to meet him," you declare in a matter-of-fact tone, exhaling slowly as Major Murphy chuckles in response.

"Now, just imagine what your daddy would have to say about this, Victoria. His darling daughter talking with an outlaw wanted for murder, hmm?" Murphy chuckles at his own jest, and you can't help but respond with a dismissive roll of your eyes.

"He doesn't need to know," you suggest with a mischievous glint in your eyes, casting a look at your uncle who appears to mull it over. "Please, uncle?" You flash him your most innocent puppy-dog expression, all while delicately cradling a cigar between your artfully painted fingers.

"Alright. Him and his gang are scheduled for dinner tonight, and I can arrange for you to sit across from him," Murphy concedes, succumbing to the charms you wield so effectively for your own advantage. "But let's be clear, Tori. No funny business. My brother would have my head if he discovered he laid a single finger on you under my watch," he warns, pointing a finger at you with a serious demeanor.

You rise with giddy anticipation, snatching your purse as you prepare to depart. "I promise. Thanks, Uncle," you express your gratitude before gracefully exiting his office. A mischievous smile graces your lips, and with deliberate flair, you indulge in a few draws from the toxic cigar held delicately between your fingers.

"Good mood, Miss Victoria?" James Dolan tips his hat at you upon entering the house. "Mhm, very good mod sir," You offer a pat on his shoulder, graciously handing him your cigar as you stroll past him.

~

"Maria, prepare my dress, won't you? I must be at my absolute best when I meet him," you exclaim with eager anticipation, tossing your head back to savor the warmth of whiskey trickling down your throat. "Certainly, miss," the young woman acknowledges with a nod, swiftly making her way to ensure your dress is impeccably arranged.

You gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a satisfied smile gracing your lips as you delicately adjust the pearls adorning your neck. You turn your head when you hear Maria walking in, her hands holding a red, squared neck dress. "Not that one," you scold, your tone commanding attention, "fetch the other red dress, the off-shoulder one!" A slight groan escapes your lips as Maria swiftly retreats to rectify her mistake.

"Perfect," escapes you in a contented sigh, your eyes tracing the flawless contours of your red dress. It hugs every curve, accentuating your delicate collarbones and enhancing your chest. "Don't I just look perfect?" With a confident turn, you catch the discreet glances exchanged between Maria and the other servants in the room.

"I asked a question and expect an answer-" "You look perfect, miss," "Very beautiful, miss," "You look gorgeous, miss," You revel in satisfaction at their replies, a smile playing on your lips as you turn back around, hands gliding smoothly down the contours of your dress.

"Billy has never seen a more perfect, gorgeous lady until tonight, aren't I right, Maria?" You drawled as the women furiously nods, opening her mouth to speak, "Billy will be speechless, miss."

"Exactly right. Billy will be speechless," You muse with a self-satisfied smile. "Ready my carriage, I'll be leaving soon," you announce, the silk gloves slipping effortlessly over your hands.

~

Amidst a gathering of distinguished women, you found yourself scanning the room, anticipating the sight of him. And there he was. A radiant gleam filled your eyes as you absorbed his commanding presence—his penetrating gaze and an aura that effortlessly commanded attention—while he entered with his gang of cowboys trailing behind.

The crowd falls silent for a moment, collectively recognizing the arrival of the infamous gunslinger. Swiftly, you navigate through the body of people, skillfully making your way to your uncle, who was comfortably seated on the couch, surrounded by his associates.

"Sorry to interrupt, gentleman. I need to speak to my uncle," you graciously interject, offering a charming smile as Murphy stands up. "Yes, Tori?" You grip his arm, your eyes on Billy across the room as he drinks alongside his gang, his eyes wandering around the room.

"There he is." You tilt your head in Billy's direction. "Mind introducing me to him?" Your eyes eagerly meet your uncle's, who sighs but nevertheless complies, setting his glass of whisky down on the table.

"Billy!" Your uncle calls out as you follow behind him. "Meet my lovely niece. She lives just outside town," Major Murphy presents you with a smile. Your eyes sparkle with admiration as you take in his appearance up close.

You extend a gloved hand, "Victoria Murphy," You introduce yourself with a touch of formality, though you heart was racing beneath the façade. Billy, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, takes your hand with a respectful nod.

"Billy, ma'am," he replies, his voice low and drawling. His eyes lingered on yours as well as his hold on your hand for a moment longer than was proper. A flush of red creeps up on your cheek as you clear your throat, retracting your hand.

~

Adorned in a striking strapless dress, you patiently waited for the arrival of Billy. You had invited him to you house for morning tea last night. As Billy entered the Murphy hacienda, he couldn't help but notice your calculated charm.

You greeted him with a smirk, and it was evident that you enjoyed the effect you had on him. The mansion was adorned with opulence, a stark contrast to the humble dwellings of the townsfolk.

"Elena, go bring us tea," You sternly spoke to the newly employed maid who scrambles off. Billy watches the interaction with a slight furrow of his eyebrows before he sets his eyes back on you with a charming smile.

During the evening, your treatment of your Spanish maids became apparent. Your demands were met with silent obedience, and the atmosphere in the hacienda was one of subservience. Despite the discomfort in the air, Billy remained composed, observing the dynamic at play.

"Mr. Bonney, won't you have a seat?" You gestured towards an ornate chair. Billy nodded graciously, "Billy's fine," he smiles briefly, his eyes lingering on the elegant surroundings. As he settled into the chair, you took a seat across from him.

"So, Billy, how do you like it here in Lincoln," You gaze at him as you readjust your dress. Billy's eyes couldn't help but let his eyes wander down to your chest as you tug it up. Clearing his throat, he opens his mouth, "It's lovely here," he nods, eyes wandering around the room.

You slowly nodding, Billy was a man of few words. "Light my cigarette, will ya?" You reach for a cigar before nestling it in between you painted lips and leaning over for him to light the other end. Your eyes move to the doors that opened revealing Elena. "Tea?" You inquired, flicking the ash into the ash tray, as Elena comes closer to the two of you. As she comes closer, you notice her shaking.

The delicate porcelain cup trembled in her hands and you couldn't help the scowl that made it to your face. She nervously looks at you and then Billy—who notices her nervousness, offers her a friendly smile.

Her hands shakily attempt to put the teacup and teapot set down on the table, the shaking of the porcelain being the only source of noise. "Oh for goodness sake, Elena, just put it down-"

Billy, watching you was caught off guard when a cascade of hot liquid spilled onto his lap. Your face contorted with anger as you stood up, Elena lets out a gasp, furiously apologising.

"I am so sorry. I'm so sorry- I didn't mean to-" Elena stammered as her hands frantically try to wipe the hot liquid off Billy's jeans as your breathing became heavier with embarrassment.

Billy catches Elena's hands in his, "Hey- it's okay, 'm fine." Billy shrugs and offers her a smile. "Elena. You may go," You walk over to her, your hand grasping her forearm as she stumble.

"You've embarrassed me enough today," you harshly say to her, closing the door on her face, though your harsh words reached Billy's listening ear.

Billy, feeling the sting of the scalding tea, looked at you with a cool gaze. "There's no need to treat her like that," he said calmly. Unaccustomed to defiance, you scoffed.

"And why not? They're my maids, I pay them, so I can treat them however I want," You cross your arms in front of your arms, head tilted to the side slightly.

Billy's response was measured yet firm. "'Cause it's not right. We're all human, deserving of respect. You felt a mixture of annoyance and intrigue. Here was a man who didn't bow to her every whim. She'd be lying if she said her attraction to Billy, wasn't fueled by the unexpected clash of wills.

You took a long drag, maintaining eye contact with Billy, attempting to decipher him. "You're quite different, Billy," You comment, as he tilts his head at your words. "Am I? Why? Because I think it's wrong that you treating your maids poorly?" You see a glint of rage in his icy blue eyes.

“Because you openly tell me this. A proper man would keep it to himself and let a woman like myself do as she pleases. After all, a household thrives on order, and as the woman of this house, I run it how I please." Your voice carried an authoritative resonance, unwavering even under Billy's icy gaze.

"I'm an outlaw, baby," he drawled as you narrow your eyes at him, "outlaws aren't considered proper men," he leans forward in his seat, his blue eyes boring into yours before he downs the already cold tea.

In the quiet moments that followed, Billy's presence became a subtle challenge to your accustomed lifestyle. He spoke of a different way of life, one where strength and honor were not measured by the wealth one possessed. Yo were torn between your attraction to Billy and the expectations placed upon you, you found yourself grappling with conflicting emotions.

"Your beauty is undeniable, Victoria," his sudden words of compliment cause you to look up at him. "But your arrogance and mistreatment of others make you ugly," he remarked, his eyes piercing at you.

You, unused to facing such truths, felt a mixture of anger and vulnerability. You wanted to dismiss his words, to maintain a façade of invincibility, but a part of you longed for something more genuine.

At high noon, Billy prepared to leave the Murphy hacienda. You stood on the steps of your threshold, looking at Billy with a mixture of defiance and longing. Billy, sensing the internal struggle within you, offered a parting piece of advice.

"You're a good girl, Victoria. Don't let your stubbornness and pride get into the way of being a decent human being," with those words lingering in the air, Billy rode off, leaving a conflicted woman on the steps of the Murphy hacienda. The echoes of their encounter resonated through the town, a subtle reminder that even the toughest hearts could be swayed by the winds of change.

[humanpurposes]

It Will Come Back

Prologue

Two sides of a family fight for their own claims to the Targaryen inheritance. Amongst the endless infighting, forced pleasantries and PR scandals, Jaya Velaryon finds herself face to face with a demon of her past, namely Aemond Targaryen. Love and hate are not emotions easily unlearned.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Jaya Velaryon (OFC)

Warnings: 18+, dark elements, targcest (uncle x niece relationship) toxic family dynamics, angst, mentions of death/mourning

Words: 1800

A/n: Sick and twisted and self indulgent. Please make sure you read the warnings. If any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable feel free to give it a miss 🫶

The rain starts softly, but turns torrential within a minute or so. It hammers against the roof of Aemond’s Jag, obscures his vision through the windscreen and the windows, but he makes it home, to the townhouse on Silverwing Square on the eastside of Central King’s Landing. His home for the last year, it’s not modest by any means, but it’s far smaller than the house he grew up in and just as empty.

He pulls his suit jacket over his head to keep the rain off him as he walks from the driveway to the front door. In the hallway he’s greeted only by a single light. He left in the early morning, when it was barely bright outside. He rarely sees this place during daylight hours.

He carefully places his keys in their usual draw and makes his way into the kitchen, where the rain drums against the glass ceiling and the glass doors leading out to the garden, an ominous serenade to his usual routine. His jacket is tossed over a chair, the kettle filled with water and switched on. He watches his hands reach for a single mug and carefully place a mint tea bag inside, wrapping the string around the handle as the water starts to boil.

He should be hungry, he hasn’t eaten all day, but the only feeling he can focus on is the headache pulsing in his skull and the sharp pain in his left socket. 

He swallows his usual medication with a glass of water and leans on his hands against the countertop, waiting for the pain to pass.

Only it persists. 

Fucking typical. Usually he can manage it, take some meds if he needs to and just get on with things, but this ache is unbearable and it’s been like this for days. His mother says it’s stress. Maybe it is. She’s been calling him every day for the last week or so– has it really been a week since Viserys Targaryen breathed his last?

“There’s no right or wrong way to feel,” she says over and over again, the usual warmth in her tone muted and robotic on the other end of the phone. “He was your father, Aemond, it’s still a loss.”

It was sudden. There was no buildup, no drawn out pain and no warning. But once he had gotten over the initial shock, Aemond realised he had known worse pain than this and the scar slashing over his left eye served as an enduring reminder of that. Viserys’ death was more like a weight off his shoulders… to a certain extent. His death has left a whole host of other issues.

Aemond withholds a grunt as a sharp pain blooms in the back of his head. He strains his breath against the back of his throat and reaches to pull the leather eyepatch off his head when the doorbell rings.

“Fuck,” he utters under his breath, just to get it out. He’s tired. So fucking tired. The last thing he needs is someone bothering him at– he checks the time on his phone– 10:30 on a weekday.

He stalks down the hallway with every intention of staring at the unexpected visitor with his best negotiating face, the one that usually scares people into getting what he wants out of them.

He twists the lock and yanks the door open.

The outside world is black and blurred by rain. He can hardly see past the driveway and the front garden, save for the lights in the windows across the street and the heavy droplets pelting by the streetlamps. The light above the door illuminates the woman standing at the top of the steps.

Her dark hair should fall around her shoulders in effortless waves, but instead it’s drenched. Little wisps stick to her round cheeks and the rest of it falls flatly against her black cashmere coat, sodden with the rain. She doesn’t have any bags, just her hands curled into nervous fists by her side.

She looks up at him with wide hazel eyes. He can’t tell if she’s been crying, or if it’s just the cold and the rain to blame for the puffiness in her cheeks and the redness of her eyes.

Jaya Velaryon is the last person he should want to see on his doorstep. Unfortunately for him, she is also the only person he knows he could never deny.

“Can I come in?” she asks in a small voice.

He only just realises that he hasn’t said anything yet.

He steps aside, just enough for her to come through the door. She smells of rain, faintly of leather and of the bittersweet amber perfume she loves so much, clinging to her skin despite the onslaught of the weather.

He clears his throat to get the scent out of his head, but it’s already eating away at him, scratching under the surface of his sanity and his self control.

She’s so close, turning her head up to him. He has the colour and patterns of her irises memorised, down to the ring of golden brown around her right pupil. He attached his own meaning to that long ago, the symmetry of it when they stand face to face, imperfection to imperfection.

He glances down at her boots as she steps over the threshold. She mutters a quick apology, wiping them down and slipping them off for good measure. “Where shall I–”

“Cupboard under the stairs,” he says, closing the door behind her and leaning against the wall with his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He watches her shamelessly as she follows his instruction and hangs her coat over the bannister. Underneath she’s wearing black jeans and a dark grey jumper that sits perfectly just above the curve of her waist. The neckline shows off her collar bone and the necklace settled against her skin, a single pearl and a sapphire on a gold chain. The sight ignites something in his blood, but it’s hard to pinpoint exactly what.

He gestures for her to move into the lounge and follows her inside, keeping a clenched fist behind his back. He can smell her perfume again.

She hovers over one of the sofas like she’s too scared to settle.

“Drink?” he says, not making much of an effort to sound polite.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having,” she says. She’s still standing and her hands are restless in front of her.

He moves his eye down to the sofa. “Sit,” he commands and she does.

He turns on the TV to fill the silence, knowing it will come onto the news channel because he rarely watches anything else, and when he returns from the kitchen it’s with two cups of peppermint tea. He hands one to Jaya, and takes a seat on the opposite sofa, leaving nothing between them but a vintage coffee table and empty space. He lets himself lean back, determined to find comfort in the unsettled silence.

Jaya seems to be keeping every part of her body as close to her as possible, her legs crossed, her arms tucked into her sides, her hands cradling the cup of tea she is yet to take a sip of. Her eyes keep moving around the room, along the bookshelves, the painting on the wall opposite the window, of three dragons standing behind their riders, roaring bursts of flames into a black sky.

“Is that…”

“One of dad’s old ones, yes.” He had picked it out of his apartments at the Red Keep. It was the only thing of Viserys’ he had wanted.

“I always liked that one,” she says.

“I know.”

She tightens her grip on the cup, pressing the tips of her red nails against the china. He watches her intently, ready to identify every thought and every emotion he can find.

Viserys had favourites and he never shied away from this fact. His devotion to Rhaenyra made her untouchable, but then his death for her was a tragedy, a crack in the foundations of her life, a very sudden and cruel awakening that she had depended too much on the protection of just one man. Without his protection, what does she have, apart from a stubborn sense of entitlement?

He sees that same stubbornness in Jaya. She’s always been proud, but she could never hide the truth, not from him. He sees the subtle frown in her brow, the quick check of her nails, then the hesitation when she remembers she’s being observed.

“I thought we should talk,” she says. 

“Talk about what?” he snaps, keeping his one eye on her face.

If she has come here to offer pity, she’ll be sorely disappointed. If she’s come to ask for it, he might leave her in tears.

She takes a slow breath as if to speak but something on the TV catches her attention.

“... the recent scandal which seemed to sway the decision of the board of directors of Dragon Bank in light of the death of Viserys Targaryen.”

A hollow feeling appears in his chest, creeping lower into his stomach. He does what he can to dispel it, clenches his jaw, pouts his upper lip, clings to the pain underneath his eyepatch, burning through his scar and piercing right through his head.

The pain is her fault. He should hate her for it. He should want her to hurt and if it was anyone else, he would.

And yet he can’t take his eye off her.

“Jaya,” he mutters softly, if only to feel her name on his tongue again.

She looks away from the TV, at first with a face of quiet fury.

There she is, he thinks, the stubborn little girl he’s always known. The little dragon, his Zaldrīzītsos.

But she can’t keep it up for long before her face melts into something more sympathetic. He’d like to imagine this is what she looks like when she begs.

He wonders if she’s thinking about the funeral. 

He’s thought about that night quite a lot, the heat of the pyre and the wind nipping at his skin as his father burned to ash. The sting of her palm slapping his cheek, his hands on her waist, her breath against his lips, his hands in her hair, his knees against the floor and the taste of her tears and her pleasure.

It was all too easy to give in. 

Love and pain aren’t easily forgotten, so he’s found, in fact he can hardly tell the difference anymore. They have become intertwined over the years and he feels foolish for not realising when they became inseparable. He should have known better. Loving Jaya Velaryon is a feeling that could never be unlearned.

Tags (comment to be added to either)

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya @dreamsofoldvalyria

Series taglist: @aemondsbabygirl @persephonerinyes @sirenangelroyal @qyburnsghost @adragonprinceswhore @boundlessfantasy @bouncehousedemons

[buttercupjosh]

Nothing to Be Scared Of

(Gif credit to @corbincarroll)

Word count: 2,594

Genres: strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

Warnings: none

A/N: This story is based off of the songs “Nothing To Be Scared Of" by Kacey Musgraves (which is where the title came from) and I make references to "Dinner With Friends" by Kacey Musgraves, and "Anime Eyes" by Kacey Musgraves. I highly recommend listening to these songs before reading my story. It’s not set at a specific moment in time (It’s taking place in a fictional future but you could also say that it’s set this upcoming season. However, the 2024-25 season hasn't happened yet and anything can happen or change so don’t hold me to what occurs in the fic and if things do change in real life, I’m not going to update this fic to reflect that). It’s written with a female reader in mind because I’m a female of color but the reader doesn’t specifically have to be a POC or a woman and there’s little dialogue. As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌

(P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

“Please don’t let me regret opening up that part of myself that I’ve been scared to give again. Be good to me and I’ll be good to you but please don’t be too good to be true.” -Too Good To Be True by Kacey Musgraves

Romantic love was one of those things that had never been on your side. Throughout life, you always had unrequited crushes that never worked out and it was very rare that someone else had a crush on you. The one time you actually dated someone and opened up your heart to them romantically, it ended up failing. On the outside, your ex was a decent guy on paper but behind the scenes, he was someone who shifted into a very toxic person. The final straw came when he got a job offer that moved him away and he broke up with you because he didn’t want to be with you anymore. Since that experience, your heart had been wrapped in bubble wrap, filled with the fear that someone was going to break it again.

As expected, you had your walls up about falling in love with someone new but that started to change when you met Jamie. Your job as a realtor is what connected you to him; you were unofficially known as the team realtor for the Phillies, Flyers, and Eagles since most of your client base consisted of players and their families from those teams and you were one of the few realtors who was licensed in both Pennsylvania and New Jersey. After his first partial season in Philadelphia, Jamie was looking for a new place to live so you helped him find his new home. The reason why Jamie was moving was because Cam wanted his long-term girlfriend to move in with him and Jamie wasn’t interested in living with Joel and Morgan at their place either. Due to his age, he didn’t want to live with an older veteran on the team and their family or to reside in the suburbs. Jamie also felt like he needed a change during this new chapter of his life so he decided to live alone for the first time in his entire life. 

On a Saturday afternoon before the season started, you met up with Jamie to show him one of the places you found. The penthouse was very nice and in a neighborhood he liked but Jamie didn’t like the kitchen layout so your quest to find him the best place to live continued. You kept in a lot of contact with Jamie, trying to match his preferences the best you could and also show him places where he could compromise on certain things. After lots of meetings and searching, you found the perfect place for him in the Rittenhouse Square area. Jamie was very thankful for your services and with the time you spent together, he became very appreciative of who you are as a person. You rarely saw your clients again after helping them out but you would see Jamie again sooner than expected.

————————————————————

One evening, your phone rang in the middle of the night and surprisingly, it was Jamie calling. You picked up and his voice sounded different. Of course, Jamie knew what he was getting into when choosing to live alone but it still didn’t make the feeling of loneliness on his first night by himself at his new place go away. He couldn’t sleep at all because his mind was racing and he just needed someone to talk to; Jamie could have called his parents or his brother, Charlie, or one of his teammates or old friends back home but instead, he chose you. Listening to Jamie on the phone made your heart ache a little and you just wanted to hug him to calm him down so you took the last SEPTA train to go comfort him at his apartment. He didn’t ask you to come over but you went over there out of the kindness of your heart. Once you arrived, you engulfed Jamie in that much-needed hug and all of that anxiety that was plaguing him at the moment began to slowly wash away. Neither of you could sleep so you talked to each other for hours about different things, learning more and more about each other, until you fell asleep on his couch. Instead of leaving you sleeping on his couch, Jamie tenderly picked you up and placed you into his bed. You woke up the following morning in a bed that wasn’t yours and found Jamie sleeping on the couch.

As time went on, you developed a friendship together and your hearts were quietly growing fond of each other. You spent a lot of time together, going back and forth from each other’s places and hanging out in public. On nights that he couldn’t sleep, Jamie would sometimes call you and you would have deep conversations that would go on way into the night, most of the time falling asleep on the phone together. Sure, those calls would leave you both exhausted the following day but that was your special thing and you would always pick up whenever he called. You trusted each other; Jamie told you about his past relationships in California and back in Canada and you opened up about your previous relationship but your past hurt made you very guarded with Jamie. It was almost like you were always waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under you about him or waiting for Jamie to switch up the good guy act on you like how your ex did but that never happened.

————————————————————

Your birthday happened to land on a Flyers game day and thankfully, that game was a matinee game so you had plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your special day. As a gift, Jamie got you and a friend glass tickets to watch the game. During one of the media timeouts, you noticed that your name was on the scoreboard, wishing you a happy birthday; it was a nice birthday surprise. The rest of the game went nicely and the Flyers won.

To celebrate your birthday, you had an amazing dinner with some of your friends at Fiorella and Jamie offered to bring the cake. All Jamie told you was that you had to trust him and he showed up at the restaurant with a large pink cake that was covered in layers and ruffles of your favorite color. He also revealed to you that he was behind the scoreboard message. You knew that Jamie was a kind guy but the kindness he showed to you definitely took the cake.

After your birthday, Jamie’s 200th career game was approaching and you pulled out all of the stops to celebrate this milestone for him. It wasn’t a huge moment to some but it had taken a lot to get to that point. You snuck into Jamie’s apartment and decorated the place with balloons and streamers while he was away at morning skate. When Jamie returned to his apartment, you were gone but he knew in his heart that you were the only one who could have done this for him. To add to the surprises, you showed up at the game with a handmade sign, acknowledging his accomplishment. Jamie’s heart warmed when he saw you, banging on the glass to get his attention to look at what you made and he tossed you a puck. Jamie texted you to not throw away the sign because it was special to him and he wanted to keep it. After the game, you went back to Jamie’s apartment and shared a small cake with him; it didn’t matter that Torts would bag skate him if he found out that Jamie was eating sweets during the season but all that mattered was that he was sharing it with you.

————————————————————

Not long after his 200th game, it was that time of the year for the building where Jamie lived to do their seasonal pest control. He needed to be out of his apartment for a few hours for the work to be done and for the smell to dissipate so you suggested going out mini golfing at Puttshack. The game combined mini golf and trivia; Jamie was good at the golfing part and you were good at the trivia part. The game itself was way more fun because Jamie would get certain trivia questions wrong but you weren’t the best at putting the golf ball and you both jokingly teased each other about your skill sets during the game.

After Puttshack, you both wanted your time together to continue so you invited Jamie over to your place to continue hanging out. As usual, you ordered food and talked. The conversation somehow shifted to movies and you found out that Jamie had never seen a Studio Ghibli movie before so you ended up showing him some of your favorite films. While observing Howl and Sophie’s relationship dynamic, Jamie realized something very important. On one end of the sofa, you were captivated watching the movie but on the other side, Jamie wasn’t focused on what was going on, on the screen. He was too busy looking over at you through his anime eyes and a million little stars started to burst in his heart. You didn’t know it then but you would learn that he had always looked at you that way. He couldn’t say it out loud yet but Jamie was in love.

————————————————————

In a series of extremely convenient events, your mom came to Philly for a week-long work conference and Jamie’s mother, Tina, was also in town for the Flyers’ annual Mom’s Trip. Both of your moms got to observe your friendship firsthand. You liked Tina and Jamie liked your mom and both of your moms liked each other. While they were away, Tina and Jamie talked about you and she encouraged her son to pursue you. Jamie knew about your past relationship pain and it made him uncertain about whether or not to tell you his true feelings. Meanwhile, you took your mom to the airport after her conference concluded and before leaving, she imparted some motherly wisdom onto you.

“Honey, Jamie is a really nice guy and I like him for you. I know you were scarred by He Who Shall Not Be Named but you should think about opening your heart again to love”, your mother said to you.

You respectfully brushed aside her words. Jamie was a really good friend and person that anyone else would be grateful to have in their lives and you were happy that he was a part of yours. Over time, people speculated that you and Jamie were dating because of how you treated each other and the amount of time you spent together but he never formally asked you out and you weren’t sure if he had liked you romantically or just as a friend. Despite how things appeared, you remained cautious about being in love again so you strictly kept your boundaries with Jamie as friends. However, that was all going to change.

————————————————————

One early morning after spending the night on the air mattress that Jamie bought for you to sleep on whenever you slept over, you woke up early without trying and couldn’t fall back asleep so you decided to watch the sunrise. As you gazed at the Philadelphia skyline from the rooftop, it hit you; you were in love with Jamie.

It was the shape of Jamie’s blue eyes and the shape of his nose. It was the cute way he mispronounced certain words the Canadian way and also the smell of his clothes that filled your nose whenever you hugged him. It was the shape of Jamie’s heart and his kindness. It was the familiarity of taking your shoes off and leaving them by the door every time you went to his apartment. Jamie loved you in all of the ways that you never felt love before.

You were so uneasy about falling in love again because you didn’t want to get hurt again but with Jamie, something just felt so different. He was the only one you wanted to give your love to and Jamie taught you there was nothing to be scared of about being in love. You could drop your baggage of hurt and he would help you unpack them and you would do the same for him. You were so consumed by emotion and a familiar voice startled you to ask if you were okay.

“Yeah, I’m fine but how did you know that I was up here? I thought you were asleep”, you replied.

“I got up to use the bathroom and every time I do whenever you sleep over, I always check on you. I knew you were here because I come up here sometimes to watch the sunrise or the sunset and I know that you love those colors”, Jamie said as he poked your side.

Hearing Jamie say the word love made your heart beat faster and faster. He looked over at you and could sense a shift in you.

“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to go back inside?” Jamie concernedly asked. 

“Jamie, I have something to tell you and promise me that you won’t freak out”, you told him.

“What are you going to say that you’re in love with me? If so, I’m in love too with the beautiful person right in front of me”, Jamie confessed with a cheesy smile and the biggest blush on his face.

He took the words right out of your mouth but that didn’t make the anxiety you felt go away.

“Jamie, I love you too but I’m scared. What if we don’t work out? What if you fall out of love with me? What if this is all too good to be true? What if -?” you rambled.

“Y/n, honestly, I’ve been scared this whole time too. When I got traded from Anaheim to here, I was super terrified of this massive change. I didn’t plan on falling in love when I moved here because my future’s so uncertain at the moment and I swore I was going to be single until my next contract but then I met you. You’ve added so much to my life and I’m thankful to have you as a part of it. I know you’re afraid but Y/n, if it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. All that matters is that I love you right now and I’ll love you for as long as I can. Would you be willing to take that risk with me?”, Jamie asked.

Before meeting Jamie, you almost gave up on romantic love for good but he showed you how to love without having to try so hard because he loved you for being yourself. Jamie was like a train that was only meant for you and he wouldn’t leave the station without you. That bubble wrap that was wrapped around your heart was peeling off and you just had to continue to trust that it was all going to be okay. Even if things were to change, like all things in life, you would learn from it. You had both believed that you were placed into each other’s lives for a reason. If being in love with each other was what dreams were made of, neither of you wanted to wake up. Wrapped in a tender embrace with his arms around you and sharing a sweet kiss, the two of you watched the sun fully rise together. It was officially the start of a brand new sunny day and also the start of a new romantic relationship between you and Jamie.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

If it wouldn’t be too upsetting, I was wondering about an angsty counterpart to the “M6 meet the parents” post you made awhile ago. Maybe MC finally regains their memories of their parents, only to learn that said parents treated them horribly in some way or another.

The Arcana HCs: When MC remembers having bad parents

~ a lot of people struggle with reconciling a need for parental figures with bad memories of the people who failed to fill that role, and they're not alone. I hope this brings some comfort - brainrot ~

CW for angst, yelling, mentions of toxic parenting

-- to set the scene --

You'd always wondered what your family was or wasn't like. It's been years since your new start on life, and you're content in the family you've found with your beloved.

You did always wonder what the trigger point might be to catch a glimpse of what you used to have - maybe the dad you just passed in the street promising their kid "a treat, but only one, okay?" or maybe the snoozing toddler you saw being lovingly carried home on their mother's shoulder.

You didn't expect it to be the sound of an angry adult yelling at a child for crying outside the window.

Julian

Just as the memories and the yelling and the crying are about to become too much, you hear another familiar voice join in outside your window

You've been expecting Julian home any moment, and it sounds like he's finally here. And like he's ... talking to the kid?

He's speaking gently, and when you peek out the window he's crouching on the cobblestones between the two, using his pocket square to mop up the kid's tears and helping them blow their nose

You hear him say something about grown ups being ridiculous and people who yell doing it because they don't have anything helpful to say and the adult behind him flushes red while the child giggles

There's a moment where you think the grown up involved is about to yell at Julian instead, but one furious look from your beloved is all it takes for them to back off

When he finally makes it inside to take off his coat and greet you, he freezes as soon as he sees the look on your face

"MC? You look upset, my dear, are you hurt? What's wrong?"

Once you're able to tell him everything, you watch his face fall and waver between sadness for your pain and anger on your behalf

"MC ... you deserved to have someone look out for you, too."

He wraps you up in one of his all-encompassing hugs and holds you tight before putting his coat back on and pulling you out the door. It's time Mazelinka made you her honorary grandchild, too

Asra

They saw you tense up from the backroom before they heard what was happening outside

He was just going to take a peek at what was going on, but as soon as he realizes it's memory-related he springs into action

Immediately strides to the shop front, casts a soothing spell on both the people involved (with an added mild sedating effect on the angry adult), turns the shop sign to "closed", and locks the front door before hurrying back to check on you

They approach you cautiously, asking if you're in any pain, and then take you upstairs to snuggle while you work through it

He's not going to pressure you to talk, so he rubs his hands along your back and arms and tucks your head under chin while he asks a few gentle questions in case you need somewhere to start

They'd known that your relationship with your parents wasn't the best, but you had never gone into very much detail before

He's had his own parental difficulties, and he's still working through the hurt and resentment from their disappearance, but he never had to worry about their cruelty

They're quick to shut down any blame you place on yourself. They think you're the most deserving of love of anyone they know, and you definitely didn't deserve to be treated the way you were

Refuses to let go of you until you're repeating back his affirmations

The next time you see Aisha and Salim, they practically offer to adopt you

Nadia

She overheard it from outside the cafe you were sitting in too

She was already very disturbed from the cruelty she was witnessing, but when she saw that it was bothering you as well she stood straight up and sailed outside to deal with the problem

She doesn't need to use very many words. You watch in slight awe as she comes to stand next to the sobbing child and stare down the belligerent adult until their angry shouts turn into quiet apologies

Refuses to let them off the hook until they apologize to the child as well and vacate the premises. Makes sure the kid is safe before coming back and taking her seat again

Confused about why you're still upset when the issue's already been resolved

Shocked and deeply pained when you tell her what's going on. Will make sure that you're somewhere that feels safe to talk before continuing the conversation

She'll make sure all your needs are met before sitting you down with both your hands in hers and asking you to tell her as much as you're comfortable sharing

Hearing about what your parents were like gives her more perspective on her own. She knows that her own hurt is valid too, but your description puts her experience into a new perspective

Quick to tell you that, since you're marrying her, you're part of her family now

Will invite her parents and sisters back to Vesuvia to smother you with love and properly adopt you into the Satrinava family

Never tolerates shouting in her Palace again

Muriel

He started to freeze up a little himself when you passed by the loud situation on your way out of town

He remembers being that kid on the streets, getting yelled at by grown ups who only thought of him as a parasite in child form

He approaches slowly with the hopes of comforting the kid and finding a safe spot for them, accidentally scaring the grown up away in the process (he was frowning very deeply)

He can tell right away that you're not doing too great yourself, but he doesn't want to rush you so he gives the child a wildflower and makes sure they're safe before walking back home while holding your hand

He wants to make sure that you have the time and space to find the words you need, so he gets you situated in front of the fire and sits next to you with a project

Invites you into his lap as soon as you start to sniffle

Listens for as long as he needs to for you to say what you need. All he wants is for you to know that you're not alone anymore

He remembers what it was like to believe that he was unwanted and what a relief it was to learn the truth

He can't imagine how much it must hurt to go through the reverse

Will hold and comfort you for as long as you need it

He'll blush and need to pause a few times, but he'll tell you that he wants you to be part of his family now, both the family of his past and whatever family you find together in the future

Portia

She doesn't even notice that you're upset

She's too busy storming out of the Palace to where the shouting is happening on the bridge and outdoing the angry adult in both volume and fury. How dare they speak like that to a child!

The kid in question stops crying pretty quickly because they're too busy watching in awe as your beloved Portia verbally beats the adult into the ground

She pauses to give the kid a sweet smile and piece of candy before booting the grown up on their way and storming back inside

Continues to rant while she picks up what she dropped. No child deserves to be treated like that! Who does that adult think they are? If a kid is crying, they need comfort, not yelling! What kind of -

Somehow her passionate ranting is both validating and soothing, but even after you've calmed down a bit you still look upset enough for her to pause when she finally looks at you

"MC? What's wrong?"

Starts pacing and tugging at her hair halfway through your answer to keep herself contained and then hugs you so tightly you feel your ribs creak once you're finished talking

Takes five minutes to tell you how loved you are and how mad she is at your parents before bundling you out the door and into town

She's taking you to eat Mazelinka's soup and become her honorary grandchild. She's also threatening Ilya into becoming your adopted older brother (he doesn't need convincing)

Lucio

Genuinely doesn't think anything's out of the ordinary until he sees you becoming visibly upset

He figures that it must be the person getting obnoxious in a public place, so he flies in their face and tells them to shut up and get lost, they're being too loud and bothering his MC

Surprised when you show some compassion for the crying kid. What are you talking about, kids are there to be yelled at - wait - what do you mean they deserve to be treated gently? He wasn't!

... oh

Awkwardly throws the kid a sympathetic smile before pulling you somewhere less vulnerable to continue your conversation

The treatment you describe isn't foreign to him, but when he imagines it happening to you, someone he wants to protect, his perspective starts shifting and he works himself into a rage

Will suggest hunting down and beating up the yelling adult since he can't do it to your parents

Ultimately begins breaking down a little himself, because his need to protect child you from harm is throwing his own past self's need for safety into sharp relief and he doesn't know how to proceed

Ends up back at your living quarters with you and huddling down on the bed together with the dogs to work it out

It's going to be a long journey, but finding a piece of hurt from his past that lines up with yours gives both of you the courage to start the healing process together

[saturnsbabyboii]

🌑New Moon in Leo Forcast🌑

(August 16th, 2023)

(I will generally talk about the Ascendant but check for Sun and Moon as well)

(Another note I do also recommend for people with signs overlays through the houses to read this through the Placidus system and the whole system to get a better idea)

Please take what resonates

Aries: You'll find a new appreciation of life through a hobby or a flash bulb sparking a creative endeavor. New Moon Leo in the 5th house is all about the greener side of the grass. You might've been feeling burned out for a while, or depending on the natal chart in aspect to the new moon transit, have been emotionally distant from the characteristics of Aries. Now you'll find a sense of fervor trickling for things you love coming back again to you, so go out there and live your best life!

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 5th house, a habit of overindulgence or a toxic social scene is being addressed. The juvenile emotional cycle is being brought forward with the new moon, although it would take time to resolve, you'll be able to start the first steps to move on from such habits and/or environments. Monetarily, don't push your luck with something, take a gamble with something but be advised that with Lilith the results would be exaggerated, performing on a stage or attending a performance.

Taurus: With the presence of New Moon Leo in your 4th house you may have been distant from others, feeling out of place, guarded. Your health and mental well-being have been suffering for a while. Your continuous cycle of isolation and self-sabotaging will be unveiled to you as New Moon Leo squaring your Uranus in your 1st house will shift your heart to the right place. You'll take those baby steps back into society, starting with your private and close home environment of the 4th house. The New Moon Leo in the 4th suggests a new set of boundaries and authenticity will come with emergence. You may not be ready to "break out and go clubbing" kind of ready but, nonetheless, you'll reconnect with those closest to you and your surrounding with a fresher emotional state.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 4th house, a hard conversation with a family member or loved one will be made. A secret or karmic debt may be revealed within your home or about someone close to you. This revelation will ultimately set you with a new mindset on how you view or feel about someone. Monetarily, there could be a difficult move from your home, whether yourself or someone close to you, distancing from the family, or leaving your childhood home or a place you had many good memories living in. A sweet yet bitter departure.

Gemini: Your head feels darker around this time. New Moon Leo in your 3rd house can grow an unrealistic sense of resentment towards others. You may feel left out and uncared for. The New Moon is in Square to Uranus in the 12th house bringing illusions, and worst-case scenario thinking and getting you to fill in the blanks through unrealistic thinking. Don't make any rash decisions or say anything without thought. This aspect is giving you major FOMO and you're starting to feel on edge. It's important this time to stay positive and remember the good times you have with your friends instead of growing bitter. Be honest with how you feel but mind your words so you won't come off cruel. Your emotions may get the best of you, as such doing something you love to do or any act of self-care will help you exponentially.

With Lilith in conjunction to New Moon Leo in your 3rd house, beware of what you say, your words hold greater weight this time and you may say things you don't mean to say. Talking about heavy feelings is easier this time but make sure not to trauma dump or overshare, and if you do, be careful of who the person is. Transit Lilith in the 3rd house also suggests an untrue friend or someone from your constant surroundings (home, work, school, etc) doesn't have your best interest at heart, pairing it with the New Moon in Leo, their schemes will fail, and will be revealed to you by someone else. Monetarily, be careful while driving during this time. An incident of road rage may occur and it could cause an accident, car problems, or construction in the neighborhood, your usual way to and from somewhere you regularly short-travel to may go under construction for a while.

Cancer: You're experiencing burnout. You've been working hard for a long time and now with New Moon Leo in your 2nd house, you feel the need to escape into solitude and quiet. With the New Moon Squaring Uranus in your 11th house, people have been depending on you a lot to generate money or to create something new to generate income. You could be a business owner or someone that is heavily depended on to make sure everything remains stable and secure. You're being pulled and pushed in all different directions and now it's a snap! This snap would be quiet on your part, as you may simply decide to step back into your own zone and leave all the "above and beyond" you have done to turn into the "bare minimum" and that is okay, it's what you need right now. New Moon Leo in your 2nd house desires comfort and enjoying all the hard work you've done alone. No spotlight sharing! It's okay to pat yourself on the back, congratulate yourself and say "I did that".

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 2nd house, you may have feelings of insecurity or inadequacy. Don't try to overextend yourself to others all the time to feel valued or wanted, because you already are. New Moon Leo here is challenging Lilith's whispers of self undoing. Don't fall back into old habits of overindulgence or dependency, you have come a long way of fighting demons. Let your inner light banish those demons. Monetarily, the time on a loan or a debt is up and it's time to collect, someone that owes you money may not plan on giving back, an argument over money and finances, or someone may steal something valuable of yours out of jealousy or spite.

Leo: "New phone who dis?" That is the energy New Moon Leo in the 1st house is going to give. A newfound sense of identity, a change of heart, taking a different trajectory towards life. This is exasperated by the New Moon's Square aspect to Uranus in your 10th house. You may take on a new career, a new persona, or you may even change your name. Your heart is taking center stage this time and you want to live authentically and unapologetically as yourself. This could include any new major change that affects your person, be it plastic surgery, trying out a new style, a tattoo, getting a buzzcut, coming out, etc.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 1st house, you may try something risky or initiate a risky act. Something that you would've never done before will have an appeal to it. You may draw yourself people that are involved in risky or even taboo things. Monetarily, "out with the old and in with the new", new wardrobe, wearing something sultry and revealing, heightened sensuality, flirting for game, taking breaths away, an exciting night out or an eventful night in.

Virgo: As the New Moon Leo enters your 12th house, a vortex of delusions will start. Supported by the Square aspect between the New Moon and Uranus in your 9th house, everything that you know seems foreign. Your ideals, your beliefs, and the connection between you and the world around you all start to melt away. You may have been feeling lost or stuck in a maze made of mirrors. The challenges of the square will put your knowledge and faith to the test. You may emerge spiritual or religious, and maybe you'll become an atheist, either way, you will embark on a new journey that'll have you undergo a period of self-unbecoming to reach the next chapter. For some, this journey is academic or related to your profession. Perhaps you will start going to university or an institution of higher education of some sort. For others, this journey would be symbolic in the sense that it is transcending or you may start counseling or going to therapy. Mental health and hidden trauma could also be unpacked here with the New Moon as a fresh and raw emotional state.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 12th house, the illusionaries of the 12th are pugnant. Beware of constant rumination as Lilith here is confusing your temporary feelings for permanent states of being. The Square aspect with Uranus in the 9th house eludes to hidden enemies that are older or more knowledgeable than you. There's also the possibility of shady dealings with an older gentleman or someone that is considered a fatherly figure or mentor. Monetarily, there could be an indication of urgent travel to another country, traveling for mental health reasons, traveling for study, abrupt cultural changes, disheartening religious experience, or embarking on a soul-searching journey.

Libra: New Moon Leo in your 11th house will bring changes to your social life. You may find a group that gives you a new sense of belonging or that you share similar interests. The Square aspect between this New Moon and Uranus in your 8th house suggests breaking out of the mold and bounds that you're currently in. You may find yourself a part of an underground group. With the energy of Leo, this group is quite theatrical or visually taboo and risqué. You might join a biker gang, do drag, enter a coven, or join a cult. In any way, you'll find your tribe that defies the norm and you're able to be authentic.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 11th house, there will be an uncovering of a betrayal within your current social circle. Although this betrayal is not about you personally, you will become a witness to it and become emotionally affected. As Uranus in the 8th is in the Square aspect to the 11th, this betrayal has some sort of cheating, whether in a relationship or money. In the most extreme cases, violence and assault could occur. Monetarily, change of social dynamics, money loss, witnessing a betrayal, joining a new group with familial-like or occult bonds, losing innocence, and muddled boundaries with a friend.

Scorpio: As the New Moon Leo enters your 10th house you'll develop a new identity or attitude. Your work or something you have created will be showcased or pushed onto centerstage, this could be literally for some. However, with Lilith in the 10 and Uranus in the 7th Squaring, the house of partnership is at odds with the house of public image and career. This newfound attention could stir up jealousy from a coworker or partner. Watch out as someone could publicly try to humiliate you or defame you. However, their attempts would be futile as you'll receive the recognition you deserve.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 10th house and depending on the aspect made to your MC, you could abruptly decide to leave your work because of the behavior of a coworker, you could also decide to go on to create your own venture. For some, you may be put at a crossroads with a partner where your relationship is at odds with your career.

Sagittarius: New Moon Leo in your 9th house suggests attaining a new skill or having a newfound passion for something. As the New Moon makes a Square aspect to Uranus in your 6th house this passion could be related to your health or daily routine. You could be starting to take on a new sport or in contrast cut out unhealthy activities. Mental health-wise, you may start to take a holistic method of improving it, which could be through art or studies. You also may dabble in some drug usage. For some, you could become especially obsessed with certain topics or activities to the point that it is affecting your health.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 9th house, you may start taking a keen interest in studying occult subjects such as witchcraft or astrology. Other subjects could include death, spirituality, religion, philosophy, other cultures, or a new language.

Capricorn: Your shadow work will bring to you many revelations under this phase of the moon. New Moon Leo in your 8th house is all about the difficult work that needs to be done and the hard conversations that need to be had. For some, the Square aspect between this New Moon and Uranus in your 5th house suggests that this could be revealed through or about a child or a lover. There is an indication with Uranus that this work or conversation would be through a an artistic discourse, could be a journal, a picture, video or a drawing. For others, Uranus here suggests a creative endeavor that is centered around the dark themes of life. If you're a writer or an artists this is a good indication to showcase or work on this art as it will be received better under this New Moon and you'll be able to channel it freely.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 8th house, you may experience paranoia and become distrustful of others. Lilith here is activated by the New Moon and Uranus in the 5th, and it's giving you false information about others and how they feel about you. You might be torn between gut feeling and false messages. Stay grounded, don't act without thought, even with reason or proof. Monetarily, there's an indication of plagiarism of likeness, creative fraud, breaking into someone's phone or journal, losing sleep because of paranoid thoughts, getting over someone by getting under someone else.

Aquarius: The New Moon in Leo entering your 7th house will trigger the position of your relationship with someone close to, whether romantic or platonic. Uranus in the 4th house making a Square aspect to the New Moon in the 7th suggests that you have been harboring feelings of neglect, resentment or irritation in private but now it's going to be dealt with. In the matter of relationships, this could be a test to see the strength of your bond. The level of closeness between you have widened and perhaps you may not feel comfortble about opening up or in being vaulrnable with this person. This could also be a matter of discussing the future of a relationships if it is romantic. For others this could be a legal matter that you have been dealing with privatly or that it regards your home or someone in your family.

With Lilith in conjunction with New Moon Leo in your 7th house, you're experiencing doubt and starting to second guess your relationships. As Uranus in the 4th make a Square aspect, you may have been reassessing those relationships in private, extending your boundaries and receding. Monetarily, the 7th house deals with the matters of legality and contracts, custody battle, inheritance dispute, foreclosure, marriage and divorce, moving forward or moving apart.

Pisces: With New Moon Leo transiting your 6th house there's a focus on your health. During this period you may experince a migrain, get a fever or catch a cold. Paired with the Square aspect made by Uranus in your 3rd house you may lose your voice, feel foggy or generally under the weather. You also might be recieving some kind of test resualts, be it health related or not. The 3rd house also suggets a trip to a clinic, hospital or any medical/health related facility. For some, this could also be an indication of starting to work in a new you place where you might feel off or that you don't belong. Perhaps you find it difficult to communicate or integrate into the already existing rhythem of things.

With Lilith in conjunction to New Moon Leo in your 6th house, you may feel stressed and very overwhelmed. This will have an effect on your health, so be sure to check your blood pressure and take any medicine or supplements you need to take. Aside from health matters, you may forget an important date or will need to follow up on something regarding paperwork, admission, files or a schedule. Perhaps an email needs to be sent or checked, a phone call to be made, or a document to be prepared.

-Overall this New Moon in Leo is urging us to take care of ourselves and do what needs to be done no matter how difficult it may be. This energy promises us to be bestowed with radiance after the darkness. Trick is we just need to have faith in ourselves, remain true, and put hearts forward purely and everything else will be taken care of.

[stuckybingo]

Stucky Bingo Round-Up #29 (April 30th - May 5th)

Don’t forget to fill out the submission form to be a part of the round-ups and to get your bingo badges! Round 4 ends May 31st and all works must be submitted before then!

Head in the sky by dharmashark Square filled: O4 - Teamwork Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply, canon-typical violence Major tags: Shrinkyclinks; Canon Divergence - Steve and Bucky find each other in the 50s; On the Run; Established Relationship; Spy Steve Rogers Summary: A new lead takes Steve and Bucky to a remote, lakeside safehouse. But when their plan falls apart, Steve is determined to (single-handedly) pick up the pieces. Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

Rappin' with Cap: Avengers Edition by Trinity Day Square filled: Adopted square - Rappin' with Cap PSA Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Humour, Rappin' with Cap PSA, Avengers Tower Era Summary: School children all over the nation are (all too) familiar with the Rappin' with Cap series of PSAs. Fewer people are aware that other Avenger team members also recording public service announcements. While never gaining as wide an audience as the originals, there are some that prefer them to the classic set done by Captain Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers is not one of those people. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

For Never Was a Story of More Woe Than This by ThatsAmericasAss1918 Square filled: N4 - Childhood Friends Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Homophobia, toxic family relationships, panic attacks Major tags: AU Theatre, lovers to enemies to lovers, angst/hurt/comfort, Romeo & Juliet references Summary: ""What would Juliet be without her Romeo?"" Bucky snorts. ""Fucking alive is what she would be."" ... Bucky Barnes hasn't heard from Steve Rogers in 3 years. He'd rather never hear from him again. Too bad he's transferring to Stark Performing Arts University where he'll be forced to take the male-only lead roles with Steve in the school's queer rendition of the play ""Romeo & Juliet"". The close proximity triggers sparks to fly and the pair begin to rethink and investigate why they hate each other so much. Maybe they'll fall in love again along the way. Format: Part of a multichapter fic

Little Bug by BBD2BH Square filled: B4 - "You pulled me from the river." Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Modern AU, Shrinkyclinks, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Heroes Summary: When a walk along the East River ends with Steve taking an unexpected swim, Bucky decides he’s fed up with Steve’s heroism. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

nobody else by sparkagrace Square filled: B2 - unrequited love Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: pre-serum steve, pining, unrequited love, 1940s, no war au Summary: The thing is that if Mary was awful then at least Steve would have a reason to hate her. She’s not awful. — It was always Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve. Then Bucky meets a girl, and Steve has to come to terms with having to share his favorite person with someone else. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Home by rookthorne Square filled: O5 - Alpine Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply, anxiety attack Major tags: tooth rotting fluff, pining Summary: They had prepared you for long missions and what would come with them - it was why they found Alpine for you, a little bit of comfort for a time that would inevitably happen. But what they had not prepared you for was the shock of an unexpected, but much desired, arrival back home. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Luck has nothing to do with it by Sivan325 Square filled: G2 - Celebrating Birthday Ao3 rating: Teen Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: Canon-Typical Violence, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bickering, Surprise Party, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Summary: "It'll work as long as Sam gets Bucky there on time." Steve told him and then looked at Sam, who simply nodded. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

The Arm by singthebeginningofmoana Square filled: G2 - Tattoos Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply, watermelon Major tags: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, fluff with a bit of angst Summary: Bucky gets tattoos. Steve sees them for the first time. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Don't Flirt With My Sister by singthebeginningofmoana Square filled: B3 - Sarah Wilson Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply, watermelon Major tags: Set during Episode 5, Canon-Typical Banter, Angst Summary: Sam wants Bucky to stop flirting with Sarah. Bucky assures him he isn't interested in her, and Sam learns about Bucky's last relationship. Format: Short oneshot (300 - 1000 words)

Whatever He Did by singthebeginningofmoana Square filled: O4 - O4: Super Strength Ao3 rating: General audiences Warnings: No archive warnings apply, Talk of Experimentation Major tags: Movie: Captain America: The First Avenger (2011), Captain America: The Winter Soldier, 5+1 Things, Light Angst, WW2 Summary: 5 times people realized Bucky might be a bit more than a regular soldier, and the 1 time Steve realized they were right. Format: Medium oneshot (1000 - 5000 words)

Darling, Lets Take Our Time (While It's Still Ours To Take) by Voylitscope Square filled: N2 - Space Ao3 rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Major tags: AU: Space, established relationship, porn with feelings, romance, Summary: Steve Rogers walking through his door is always a challenge — something that always makes holding up his casually friendly bartender facade very difficult. It’s harder tonight. The relief that floods Bucky at the sight of Steve’s familiar features is so overwhelming that he has to ball his hands into fists and take a long breath to hide his less-than-calm emotions. “Captain Rogers,” he says, trying his damndest to not search Steve for signs of injury. “Didn’t know you were in town.” “Just got in,” Steve says. He grabs a seat, and Bucky keeps his eyes on the leather of Steve’s jacket to avoid looking at his face (Or: Steve’s a rebel pilot with a target on his back, Bucky runs a bar that’s a hub for rebel activity, and the two of them have a long history. It’s a Star Wars AU. No Star Wars knowledge required.) Format: Long oneshot (over 5000 words)

[contaminatedlamb]

Paint ペイント -[tmnt2012] Leonardo x Fem!Reader

summary: To your limited knowledge, something is going on in the midst of New York City. From the Bronx, all the way down to Brooklyn, creatures are emerging from the woodworks to ease their claws into the lives of every inhabitant. From a sous chef who dreams of refining her artistic skills, an androgynous woman with a dark past and a violent soul, to a once lively mutant teenager who's grief has morphed him into a shell of his former self. Together, with the help of their friends, family members, and wary allies— the truth will be revealed. No matter what the cost. Who knew that it would all start with a bit of paint?

notes: posting my first ever fanfiction on tumblr! I hope you enjoy, this is a passion project of mine that I have been working on since 2019. Show some love if you can, and let me know what you think of it! This book is also cross posted on Ao3 and Wattpad. Currently being rewritten as we speak.

warnings: gore and blood.

(Accidentally added a poll and can’t remove it from my draft so here we are lol)

Chapter One - Nothing to see here, folks! Everything is Fine.

You woke up that morning dreading to take out the trash.

It was Friday, that dreaded day of the week. While many celebrated it as the last day before the relief of a weekend, it happened to be only miserable for you. It was the busiest day in Murakami's Japanese restaurant, with all the drunk college men stumbling into the little hole in the wall to harass the three employees, and its blind owner/head chef. They made a mess, per usual, figuring out how to break down the token driven vending machine, demolish the bathrooms, leave their tables in chaotic disarray; all while somehow leaving drunker than before... If that was even possible. You were convinced that it had to do with those 'water bottles' they carried, which you were sure were just filled to the brim with vodka. There were times, when you were busy moping up a spilt drink, dizzy from their boisterous noise and the fumes, that you hoped they choked on their 'water'.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only reason that you dreaded going to work. Every Friday was also the day where the garbage had reached unfathomable levels of toxicity and needed to be tossed into the dumpster for the workers to take it away the next morning. How was it that the small portion of the human race that came to the restaurant seemed to make the biggest, most disgusting mess possible? New York. Disgusting down to its very own garbage.

Black trash bags would pile up by the pounds against the back door, so much so that it may have become a safety concern and an entire health violation if you thought about it for too long. You were certain that some sort of mutant would sprout from the bags and squeak a pleasant hello~ towards your horrified face. And yet, that wouldn't even be the strangest thing you had seen happen during your almost two years living in Manhattan. You wished you were joking when you told the story about how you had once seen a grown man with a glorious beard dressed as a nun take on a costumed Elmo, who looked as if he discovered cocaine with those tech bros that cluttered the streets of the city. Only in Times Square at eleven at night did something like that happen— and it hadn't even been Halloween! The absurdity of it all meant that you couldn't help but begrudgingly be amused by the chaotic energy of New York City.

Now though, as you stood slouched over, your lower back pressed against the beige wall lined with awards and old pictures of simpler times, you glared with a burning ferocity at the trash bags. The trash bags which always seemed to come up with new scents and would send you to the bathroom to heave up the few crackers you had eaten for dinner. Those black plastic trash voids which oozed and dripped with weird discolored sludge that made the bags stick to the ground when you dragged them through the back door, leaving behind horrible slime trails in their path. Only once before in your life had you accomplished a feat of strength, and that was when you had jumped up from your chair to do one 'pull up' in P.E. at seven years old. You had been extremely proud of that loophole, and it was one of your most cherished memories, depressingly enough. That made this attempt of physical strength all the more difficult, in the end.

At this moment, glaring at the trash as if it had insulted your entire family, you were finally snapped out of the inner roasting that you had directed to the garbage— by being unceremoniously slapped in the face with a pair of neon latex gloves. You sighed loudly, closing your eyes to collect yourself before you, to put it in modern terms, cut a hoe. You bent over and snatched up the pair of yellow gloves with more rage than expected. Straightening, you met the grin of your friend, none other than Sukiyaki Ashika; the source of your constant suffering.

The young adult of Japanese and Pakistani descent leaned in the doorway which led to the kitchen, dark arms crossed over her flat chest, that same cheeky grin that she used against those teenage delivery boys plastered across her Asian based features. It was a weapon, paired with her psychedelic slanted red brown eyes, the sort you saw on vampire men in those terrible low budget movies. These weren't any different. They were real, and they were lovely. It felt at times that she would hypnotize you with her stare, so powerful were they. There were times where you couldn't hold her gaze, having to lose the staring contest by dropping your gaze to the ground.

"Make sure you put on them gloves, by the way." The teenager reminded you, tossing her Wolf cut bangs to the side, the back of her straight black hair cropped short. The bangs were wispy, perfect, flowing in the wind as if she were in a shampoo commercial. It was comical, and you wanted to stab it.

"Yeah— I remember what happened when you didn't wear them that one time." You snorted with a lopsided smile as you slid them both on, the latex snapping loudly against your skin as you raised your eyebrows. "How's your hands by the way?" You questioned, a grin growing across your face.

Yaki made a noise of annoyance as she looked over at the hallway between the kitchen and the main restaurant area, sniffing in distaste. "Its not my fault that the stuff in there stained my hands yellow." She grumbled, looking down at her hands with their splotches of light neon yellow blemished along her pecan brown palms.

"It's literally toxic." You noted, as you wrapped your hands around the tied knots of the black garbage bags, inhaling deeply as you attempted to lift them up. All that was obtained from that movement was a sore back and almost dislocating your wrists. You let out a groan through your clenched teeth, your shoulders shakily sagging.

Sukiyaki guffawed loudly, a grin growing on her lips as she curled a finger around a strand of her coarse hair to play with it. "Awe, babaaa." Cooed the woman, tilting her head to press against the doorway.

"Don't 'awe baba' me." You huffed back like the annoyed teenager you were, glaring at the bags filled with garbage that resembled you, kicking at the receptacle. "You're enjoying this." You huffed, dropping the bags, placing your gloved hands on your hips as you shot the bags another dirty look.

Yaki gave a half shrug coupled with her signature smile as she continued to watch in amusement at the train wreck starting before her. "Put 'cha back into it!" She called as you began to slowly roll each large trash bag across the linoleum floor and through the backdoor. You managed to shoot her a scowl over your shoulder as you began your process of piling all the bags outside the door. Finishing up, you pulled back one of the bags holding the backdoor open, allowing the heavy wooden door to fall shut against its doorway.

You listened for a moment as Yaki faintly sang All Star to herself through the closed door, as you began the long process of figuring out how exactly you were going to drag each humongous bag into the six feet tall dumpster bin. Your arms already shook with the effort, your tendons stretched out against your skin, as you tried your best not to fall over. You would've loved Sukiyaki to help you, or take over even, but you knew it was your turn. If you ended up asking, you knew what would follow. The teasing, the pokes in your sides, ruffling up your hair before she would finally submit and get the job done. Effortlessly tossing in the bags as if she were playing basketball, not a bead of sweat to be found, her hair perfect as always. It was annoying how perfect she was, and this time, you decided that you would put the garbage in its place without submitting yourself to the mortifying experience of asking Suki to help. At least you could try to hold onto a silver of dignity left in your body.

After loud fits of swearing, prayers to God, squealing as the bulging bag teetered back from the edge of the metal container and almost crushed you (if you hadn't ran off before it crashed to the floor) and, embarrassingly enough, a bit of frustrated tears being shed, you managed to shove a bag into the dumpster. Placing each on the edge and shoving them all inside with a loud grunt, you found yourself finding a rhythm. It did little to cheer you up as you felt the muscles in your arms beginning to complain. You were definitely going to blackmail Yaki into buying you some ice cream after your shift was finished— after all, it was the most your roommate could do to soften your pain.

"This is supposed to be your job." You grumbled to no one in particular, feeling the bead of sweat tickle the side of your temple as it slid. You dragged the last trash bag towards the dumpster bin, loudly (and explicitly) directing your frustration towards an imaginary Yaki. Fuming, cursing, you planned in your head, allowing your mouth to run wild. You could mess up her perfectly styled hair (though she would attack your hair then too, and it looked bad enough as it did after a long hot day of work), you could hide her earbuds in her locker (but then she would talk your ear off in the subway home), or, you could smack her with your broom. The broom smacking seemed the easiest, the most surprising, and frankly, the funnie—

Something squeaked back in response.

Your head swiveled around, your fingers gripping the trash bag as it teetered on the edge of the dumpster (dangerously so, as you dug your heels into the ground), your eyes wide, shoulders aching and nostrils flaring. The rats in New York City were as large as an alley cat, and you were not prepared to catch the bubonic plague from one of those buggers. You were pretty sure you had been vaccinated against rabies as a child, but a quick trip to the hospital to confirm that was not something you looked forward to. Either way, the thought of a rat sinking its dagger like teeth into your ankle did not sound fun.

Your eyes scanned the dark narrow alleyway, listening closely to hundreds of flashing cars zooming by on nearby streets, their horns blaring in the distance. Your pupils dilated and adjusted to the shadows cast by the towering buildings surrounding the alleyway, making sense of the shapes along the walls. Garbage bins, loose trash, scattered needles, rotting garbage bags from the business in the next building, cardboard boxes. Nothing. Nothing suspicious at all. Your knuckles turned a shade paler as you held onto the trash bag for dear life, turning towards the giant receptacle, finally releasing as it hit against the bottom of the bin with a loud thud.

Another squeak echoed in the alley as you brought your hands abruptly to your chest, ("protecting your innocent little heart now, baba?" You heard sukiyaki's voice tease you in your mind), your eyes falling towards a pile of trash bags against the opposite wall. Your heart thudded angrily against your chest. It felt as if it wanted to crawl up your throat and escape, running. You wanted to run, but your feet were glued to the asphalt. You cautiously reached for the rickety broom that was propped against the wall, right next to the garbage bin. Isidore must've been here recently, brushing the loose vegetables out into the street to be run over or stolen by the rats. Your fingers curled around the cool blue plastic, your sweaty palms squelching against the material. You were ready to slap any demon rat that came anywhere near you.

You gripped the plastic broom tightly with both hands, watching closely as one of the trash bags began to vibrate. Yes, vibrate; as if it were a ringing phone laid against a glass tabletop. You gulped, shuddering violently, as you began to take delicate steps toward towards the bag.

I'd rather it be a mutant than a freaking rat,— you hoped in your mind. At least mutants didn't try to bite... Right?

A gasp ripped from your mouth as a circular white face popped out with a rat-like squeak from a chewed up hole through the material of the plastic trash bag. There was the sound that you had been hearing all along. It belonged to a 2-D face with two white skinny stick arms stabbing into the bag as it wiggled out its beanpole of a body from the hole inside the trash bag. A drawn stick figure, about the size of your hand. It looked like it had been cut out of paper by a child, the edges showing pencil marks where the shape had been carefully drawn. It leapt out of the bag to perch itself onto the black bulging trash bag, sticking its face forward. Staring. Staring at you.

You didn't realize your mouth was hanging open until a fly smacked against your upper lip and ricocheted away. You spluttered, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth as you took a step backwards. Big mistake. The abrupt noise and sudden movement startled the stick figure. It arched its back, on all four nubby sticks (like a cat, you thought numbly in amusement), hissing at you even though it had no visible mouth. The noise that it emitted was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

You stared at it. This was... unreal. A stick figure, (or a cut out figure?) coming to life, hissing at you like an angry pigeon. Did pigeons even hiss? You couldn't recall, you were just frozen. In utter shock.

...Were you high? Okay, yeah, sure, it was probably those delivery boys, their fault at is, smoking weed freely whenever they dropped off their shipments of vegetables, frozen fish and meat, including the occasional ice cream. At least you hoped; it would certainly make more sense than the stickie in front of you. Obviously, you had inhaled some second-hand-devils-lettuce smoke and now you were high as a kite, imagining a two year old's drawing cut out of a stick figure aggressively arching its back in and out at you as if it were performing some sort of mating dance.

The stick figure hissed once more and you finally noticed a hole appearing on his face, (because of course you assumed it was a male), and tiny paper like sharpened teeth baring at you.

Yeah, no.

You swiftly swung the head of the broom, bristles and all, at the sentient stick figure, slapping the surprisingly light thing in the torso and sending it flying. A loud squeal escaped its empty mouth as it sailed across the alley wall (you stared, mesmerized, wondering how paper could hold such weight), and tumbled onto the sidewalk. It scrambled to its feet, sickly yellow light from the street lamps throwing shadows against its flat white skin. It stared. And stared. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it hissed once more at you and scurried off. The sound of its flat feet scratching lightly against the ground quickly faded away.

You stood there, sucking and exhaling rapid breaths. You stared at the place where, just moments before, a living drawing had stood.

After a few minutes, you had successfully convinced yourself that none of it had been real, or had even occurred. It was the toxic fumes from the garbage bags, mingling with remnants of the evil weed as your mother called it. It had come together to corrupt your brain and had made you hallucinate for a few minutes— that was all. It was something psychological that you were sure could be explained through a quick google search. You really had to make sure you wore a gas mask next time you took out the trash. That was a joke, but it barely amused you. Maybe it would make Sukiyaki laugh, if she didn't start cackling at your story of weed, poisonous fumes, and stick figures coming out to attack you.

You spent a few spare moments gingerly poking the hole riddled trash bag with the end of your broom, (letting out a gasp when something inside it fell over, causing you to jump), before shaking off that nagging feeling scratching the back of your mind. Everything was a-okay, perfect, absolutely fine... everything was fine.

You cleared your throat, turning swiftly on the soles of your stained beat up, formerly white sneakers, twirling the broom lazily in your free hand. Around and around, you twirled, as if you were trying to mimic the actions of a Jedi. Your heart had calmed down from the mini heart attack it just had, as you wiped your free shaking sweaty palm on your stained light blue jeans. You walked back towards the backdoor, a trembling hum resonating in your throat, dragging your shoes against the dirty concrete floor of the alleyway. Everything was just fine.

You felt the ground tremble before you heard it. The sound of feet hitting the ground behind you, slapping against the ground clumsily, a small grunt following it. Softly, albeit messily, but gently enough that you wouldn't had even noticed. If it hadn't been for the hand that grabbed your shoulder.

A shrill shriek escaped your lips as you swung around the broom (really, this had become second nature after what you had just gone through) spinning around to beat the person who had grabbed you. Grabbed you! This was New York City after all, it was late, and hadn't there been reports of mutants, gangs, and weird looking alien robots in this area as well? You were not the type of person to willingly go if you were kidnapped or, god forbid, harassed. If it came to it, the good Lord had given you two dirty hands for wielding whatever was available. Which happened to be a cheap, held-together-by-prayers-and-duct-tape-broom. Put together, you were the shining representative of all pathetic, weak, easily scared girls worldwide.

Unfortunately, before your weapon of choice could loudly thwack against the face of your adversary, the broom was gripped tightly in a shaking bandaged three fingered hand.

You were face to face with a creature.

You were both breathing heavily in sync. This thing, this animal, was injured and heaving in rhythm with you. How rude!

In the dim yellow light emitted from the streets that dragged into the alleyway, he was red— no, he was green, covered in red. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to hide the fact that you were beginning to hyperventilate at the pure shock of this mes— wait; was that a panic attack you felt coming on? You hadn't had one in weeks!

He was taller than you, that much you could tell as you stared into his eyes. You were caught in his piercing gaze, your eyes only being able to flicker around before being dragged back into this stare. He appeared to be brawny in his physique, though you on the contrary seemed as breakable as a twig. A huge gash ran across his green face as you, for the first time, noticed a blue mask around his neck that was soaked with... blood. Torn up bandages swayed limply from his elbows, shoulders and hands, with a few knee pads barely holding on. His left shoulder leaked blood through a large open gash that didn't seem to relent with its flow. His right eye was reddened and beginning to swell shut, the other a piercing blue that seemed wrong belonging to a thing like him. Your eyes trailed to his back, oh hello there shell, where large multi colored gashes peeked at her, contrasting against the brown. The streaks seemed as if they were made out of… paint.

Your attention was pulled away as remembered the broom you were gripping with both of your hands, his three fingered hand holding the other side, his own grip in between your hands. You let go, stumbling backwards, your arms outstretched into a t-pose as you stared wide eyed in silence. Whattt was happening? What was this? Why was this? Why? Why?!

A noise that sounded like a pigeon choking on a piece of hot dog meat escaped your parted lips as you pointed at his face. The thing. The turtle. The mutant. With eyes you had only seen before in cliché anime gif's that you would usually spam to your former nanny to confuse her.

He stood there, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable, mimicking the exact expressions that you were experiencing too. He clutched the broom in one hand, his arm falling limply to the side. His grip on the pole was tight, so tight that his knuckles turned white. His hand began to shake. His grip loosened. The broom clattered to the ground. The shaking in his hands didn't stop there. It only spread, up his arms, down to his knees; his entire body seemed to be having a shaking fit. You realized, late as it was, that it was probably the buckets of blood covering him, (hey-o! blood loss!).

You took a small step forward.

"Um..." You cleared your throat, embarrassingly loud as it echoed throughout the alley, trying to draw his attention. He was staring straight ahead, his gaze empty and in some far off place other then the present. "My, my guy." You said, unsure of yourself as you scrunched up your nose at the stupid words spilling out of your mouth. You held out one hand tentatively, eyebrows knitted in concern as you licked your very dry, very salty lips. "Are you... good?"

The mutant hesitantly shrugged, his one working eye squinting and shining in the sickly yellow light. "No." His hoarse voice squeezed out, barely a whisper as it echoed along the dense towering concrete walls of the alleyway. With that one word, he collapsed in on himself, like a soda can being crushed between two hands.

You stared at the pile of blue, green, brown, beige, yellow, purple, and red before you and inhaled deeply. You gazed upon your familiar surroundings, calm as ever, and clasped your gloved hands together. "God..." You declared quite loudly, as if you were confessing to the Lord himself. "I'm high." And with those cheerful words, still trying to convince yourself that this was all a hallucination you turned on the heels of your white sneakers, opened the door, and walked inside. Humming a loud tune, the door shut closed behind you, ringing throughout the alley, out into the empty street.

A squeak rang out from a familiar hole riddled trash bag.

Everything was fine.

[pearlprincess02]

takemikey synastry (venus)

venus rules your social attitudes and behavior, and your aesthetic tastes and inclinations. it is female relationships and social interactions at every level. venus indicates your values. it describes romance, marriage and other partnerships, capacity for humor, and the pursuit of pleasure. 

house overlays and aspects

takemichi's venus in mikey's 8th house

this has an extremely plutonian/martian/scorpionic/arian energy to it. it acts as a harsh venus - pluto aspect in most cases. whilst when it’s good it acts as positive venus - mars aspect. the venus person (takemichi) is usually very intense and in a sense scorpionic around the house person! (mikey) often observant and watchful over the actions and intentions of the house person (mikey) while the house person (mikey) is not only equally observant but often sees through venus (takemichi) without venus (takemichi) being able to catch up. it’s often a tug of war between passion and instinctual repulsion. they’re too close too you but also you want them too close. often in family or platonic relationships this can point to a family member or friend that often easily pushes your buttons or arouses darker emotions out of you that you’d rather either avoid or prefer not to experience. whilst in romantic endeavors this can be a tricky yet deeply rewarding romance but one that’ll take time seeing as how this is a fixed house! the house person (mikey) often hold the cards while the venus person (takemichi) holds the triggers. it can seem manipulative but it can also seem very intense. sex here is pretty dark in nature because of the feelings that are aroused! the venus person (takemichi) is deeply connected and passionate over the house person (mikey) whilst the house person (deku) is often protective and deeply endearing to venus (takemichi) no matter their circumstances. but on a side note? don’t walk into this relationship if either of you are unevolved as hell will literally break loose.

takemichi's venus square mikey's pluto

with the pluto square venus synastry aspect, you’ll find that the relationship can quickly become toxic or obsessive if there’s nothing else to balance this aspect out. typically, the pluto person (mikey) is more obsessed with the venus person (takemichi). they just can’t stop thinking about them. however, this can go both ways, especially at first. the pluto square venus synastry aspect shows how fine the line is between love and hate. you may feel unsure if the relationship is controlling or loving, but remember that it can’t be both at the same time. you struggle for love, yet you often find control instead. there is usually a one-sided element to this relationship. one person may have the vague feeling of unrequited love; in some way, the energy is unbalanced. you may experience power struggles and manipulation in this relationship. sometimes, these struggles even explode into massive fights filled with anger and hatred. usually, the pluto person (mikey) is more afraid of losing the venus person (takemichi). pluto (mikey) will do whatever they can to keep venus (takemichi) with them, whether this is through manipulation and control, or by giving up their core values to make the venus person (takemichi) happen. the pluto square venus synastry aspect reveals the elements of love that no longer serve you and forces you to change them. the square doesn’t allow you to ignore these issues; you will find them in your face over and over should you try. with a good deal of personal work, it is possible to transmute this aspect and discover what you truly want in love. t the end of it all, you can develop a relationship that is truly evolved, if both partners are willing to do this work.

takemichi's venus trine mikey's rising

this a beautiful aspect to have in synastry, it creates a sense of harmony between two people, even flirtious if they're comfortable enough. these two are soo sweet with eachother that even others notice it. ascendant person (mikey) sees their ideal type in venus person (takemichi) and really adores them, if this is a romantic synastry then, it is likely that the venus perosn (takemichi) felt immediate attraction towards ascendant person (mikey), finding them beautiful and the ascendant person (mikey) might've found the venus person (takemichi) really alluring charming and attractive, this like a crush aspect. these to really admire how the other looks physically where venus (takemichi) loves ascendant person's (mikey) beauty, the ascendant (mikey) loves venus's (takemichi) style and aesthetic. on the other side the venus person (takemichi) might start to get really possessive over the ascendant person (mikey), will fight anyone over them and anyone who makes the venus person (takemichi) feel insecure about the ascendant person (mikey) will become a problem also venus person (takemichi) would love to show ascendant person (mikey) off. while the ascendant person (mikey) might try to run or feel overwhelmed at times, but also reciprocates the same possessive nature.

mikey's venus in takemichi's 10th house

this feels very saturnian/capricorn in nature. it can feel a bit heavy, in most cases it’s so stable sooo lasting and immensely secure but something about it will also feel detached and slightly out of reach. there is a gap between the now and the once was with this pairing. venus (mikey) often feels very secure around the house person (takemichi), a sense of lustful yet mature longing for the house person (takemichi) —there love but more than anything their devotion! which is something venus (mikey) often feels that they spend all or even most of the relationship chasing after. the house person (takemichi) may unconsciously demand a lot from the venus person (mikey) which at times unknowingly places a huge strain on the open sharing of feelings between the two! this can show a heavy focus on the public eye and the endeavors of both taking priority of intimacy and in most cases depending on the people involved that’s not always the case! but love needs to always be expressed no matter what between the two! the house person (takemichi) always takes on a providing role and feels as though it’s their duty to take care of venus (mikey) while venus (mikey) feels it’s their sole duty to be the support system for the house person! (takemichi) it’s a romantic placements for more traditional couples who don’t mind occasional intimacy gaps. it’ll feel like you’re always listing to a sad song even when things are going well. 

mikey's venus opposite takemichi's saturn

with the venus opposition saturn synastry aspect, the couple feels as though they know each other immediately. this can be an almost overwhelming feeling. often, this relationship indicates a deep karmic connection from a past life together, but there is also healing that must be done in the relationship. like most opposition aspects, the venus opposite saturn synastry aspect can be glue in a relationship. however, it also indicates that there are obstacles to overcome should this couple choose to stay together. both people may want something that they never really get in this relationship, yet they remain hopeful that they could get the things they want. because of this, the relationship can go on for years. whether or not they realize it, what both people desire is true emotional intimacy and unconditional acceptance. in the venus opposition saturn synastry relationship, the saturn person (takemichi) may struggle to change. they can be very authoritative and can try to force the venus person (mikey) to become who they want them to be. the saturn person (takemichi) can see the natural light that is in venus (mikey), yet they can’t seem to loosen up. this can cause friction because both people have opposite ways of doing things. when venus (mikey) feels happy and light about something, the saturn person (takemichi) can put the venus person (mikey) down or show disdain. it’s important that the saturn person (takemichi) loosens up and tries to see things from venus’s (mikey) point of view. saturn (takemichi) may feel that their rules are always right and employ black or white thinking. this can be really difficult, but if saturn (takemichi) doesn’t learn to temper their authoritarian ways, they can loose venus’s (mikey) light. usually, the saturn person (takemichi) is strict because they have deep fears. the venus person (mikey) can sometimes help them to work through these fears, but saturn (takemichi) must be ready to do the work. if saturn (takemichi) refuses, the relationship will certainly struggle. meanwhile, the venus person (mikey) needs to understand the limits of saturn (takemichi). this will go more smoothly if venus (mikey) is in a practical sign, such as capricorn or virgo, and will be more difficult if venus (mikey) is mutable. in the venus opposite saturn synastry relationship, compromise is absolutely necessary. these people can find a middle ground if they’re both willing to do the work. neither should get too caught up in their own needs. instead, they must learn how to balance their needs with those of their partner’s so that everyone feels fulfilled.

mikey's venus conjuct takemichi's midheaven

midheaven person (takemichi) brings the wider outer world inside the relationship and shows venus person (mikey) how to be successful. venus person (mikey) brings gentleness, beauty and charm in support of the common goals. together you can combine sensuality and beauty with the financial areas. you might work together in art, beauty, or entertainment. the security about possessions and material objects is for you important. there's an extroverted quality in your meeting. there's little you can and want to hide from the public. the public image and reputation is an essential part of your meeting. venus person (mikey) brings beauty and charm into the common public area, while midheaven person (takemichi) carries experience and wisdom.

takemikey's masterlist

crd:

venus synastry

venus - pluto aspect

venus - rising aspect

venus - saturn aspect

venus - midheaven aspect

[naquey]

so I saw a post on here saying that if cis women don't owe you femininity then neither do trans women. Trans women are still women if they don't wear what is stereotypically consider feminine. If cis women can wear baggy sweat pants and not wear makeup, and still be considered a woman than so do trans women.

I want to add this also applies to trans men. Transmisogonists and transmisandrits are a thing, and I do not want to diverge from that. The community starts getting divided when you reduce trans women to hyper femininity, and pink, and skimpy clothes. Same with reducing trans men to testosterone filled rage, and toxic masculinity. Yes, it can exist in some trans people.

For context. I've lived with a transphobe in my family since I came out in seventh grade. She hid her transphobia behind her support for the LGBTQ+ and at the time I thought being an ally meant she was a good person, but being an ally doesn't mean you can't be xenophobia, racist, or transphobic. She regurgitated the same thing every time she saw me, or every time she talked to me about being a trans man.

"You're not feminine enough to be a gay guy, but too feminine to be a guy." A direct quote from her in the square one mall when we went to the bathroom outside of Best Buy. I was roughly 13~14.

Even now, I'm 20 and she still fucking says that shit I own is too feminine. A keyboard my friend made me with my favorite color purple that has zodiac keys on it? That's awful feminine.

She would say people could tell I wasn't a guy just by looking at me and that shoved me far into the spectrum onto "reject femininity at all costs" and I was fucking miserable.

Trans men are still men if they wear a dress. They are still men if they have long hair. Still men if they accessorize. Trans men are still men if they play with dolls.

I'm still a man just because I like the color purple. I'm still a man even when I sit in my room all day. (which she says is something women often do??? like wtf) As soon as I realized I could like things and stopped listening to her crazy ass, I got happier. I embraced the weird bullshit, because if I don't embrace it then I'll be searching for someone to validate me.

I know I derailed this post way too much with context, but it's to help people understand that shoving trans people into a box of masculinity or femininity and villianizing them for wanting to present with the other is just going to hurt people. People are complex, trans people are complex. We all don't fit into that same square shaped hole. It's like cramming the circle into the triangle shaped hole. It isn't going to work.

TLDR: trans men are men even if they are feminine, trans women are women even if they present masculine. Let people be whoever tf they are.

[juxtaposedjester]

A Normal Day in PA

(short story)

Logline: A man wakes up to discover the world around him has been destroyed.

(told in first person pov)

“Ladies and gentlemen I’d like to remind you to remain quarantined in your homes. We appreciate your cooperation and greatly apologise for the wait. It is day one hundred thirty-five and the clean-up appears to be wrapping up, not too much longer folks! We will report back with any updates, stay safe pee-ayy. Now here’s Elvis to keep you rockin’ through these tough times."

"The warden threw a party in the county jail-...” The rusty blown-out radio gasps out, awakening from its daily routine of fear-mongering. It once stood tall atop the diner in the square, preaching loud enough for everyone in town to get an ear full. While still loud, it has been slumped over in age for quite some time now. Ever since the explosion of ‘57, the federal government has been sending messages on the progress of the purification of the land, along with the top song on the charts right now. Unfortunately for me, I was never much of a fan of ‘The King’ and every morning is the same.

West Chester is home to some of the most broken-down abandoned nuclear power plants in the world. Chernobyl would be jealous of the disaster that is my home town. Although we haven’t had any issues since the accident, Eisenhower insists the air is ‘toxic’ and ‘unliveable.’ Between you and me, I don’t trust him- I hear him every day and his voice has never changed! 

When I was a child this city was just a small burrow on the brink of supersizing, destined to be the next ‘lost Angeles.’ Filled with blue-collar families blissfully unaware of the transparent pun that is their lives, nuclear families in a nuclear town. Nowadays I walk down streets that merely resemble the ghost of my childhood. Streets I once loved decaying into a state that even hell’s most affluent of neighbourhoods would envy. Overgrown with invasive flora and fauna, and not a soul in sight. As the vibrant yellow morning fog begins to fade, the flickering reflection of a metal sign catches my attention. Not to my surprise it is severely rusted and filled with holes but I can still manage to make out the message. It reads “beware of mutants” with a giant hazard warning, what kind of ignorant hick put this up?

I'm quickly snapped out of thought as the pungent rain splatters against my gills. A horrible smell that could only be described as sour lemon flavoured petrol. The sweet yet acidic liquid glazing everything it touches in this aroma. I sigh and feel a familiar burning sensation on my back, knowing full well I'm once again being ‘cleansed’ like a sphynx cat. Reaching around to check the damage I feel the impression of mountain-like scales where rough and dry leathery skin used to be. “Let's rock! Everybody let’s rock!..” What a joke, being mocked by my own musical tyrant. These modifications to my body don’t really phase me anymore. The soft skin my mother gave me had been calloused into bare sandpaper long ago. The changes in the world around me become more prevalent every day and watching how it affects wildlife is heartbreaking, to say the least. I watch in anticipation as a beautiful bluebird jumps from its sheltered nest into the downpour and hope for the best. It only takes a second before a small burst of vapour replaces the bird in the sky, leaving behind not so much as a feather. My eyes immediately welled up with emotion. I quickly shake my head back and forth to rid my eyes of their puddles and daydream back to a simpler time when rain was water, and I had eyelids. 

I still remember the day of the explosion. It was the middle of winter and I was in elementary school making snow angels at recess. The soft white clumps fell all around me like my own interactive mobile, lulling my eyes to peacefully close. As I lay there in blissful childhood ignorance I heard unfamiliar sirens, they sounded far away but roaring enough to signal some sort of emergency. Then I started to hear the crumpling of the soft ground from what sounded like millions of elephants, or the whole neighbourhood running in all directions. The longer I ignored the scene the more I started to hear. Next, the screaming started, along with lots of slamming doors and screeching of tires rushing off. I was determined to stay in my bubble of snowflake bliss and remained lying half asleep. The last thing I remember was hearing a peculiar melting sound and a strange warming sensation. The soft flakes hitting my skin began to feel like knives, and my eyes shot open expecting to see minor frostbite. Much to my surprise my arms and face were impressed with thousands of water-drop-like holes, on a canvas of hardened emery paper. I tried to sit up to shake off what I thought was a hallucination and realised that I couldn’t move. It took a few panicked moments before I realised the melting I had heard was my fleece jacket welding to the ground. I frantically felt all around me to find all of the snow was gone, and I was pinned to sandy bedrock in almost complete silence. All the rush I had ignored had ceased. No matter how loud I yelled for help, no one came. 

Eventually, after a few more rainfalls that felt like weeks apart, I became loose enough to peel myself off of the rock, which to this day is still covered in a thick layer of fuzzy fabric and sandpaper-like skin. As I grew older my need to eat diminished to nothing, although there wasn’t anything to eat if I did want to. My hair had long fallen out by the time my lips and eyelids began to shrivell off, and I accepted it as part of ‘becoming an adult.’ My favourite modification came from the first morning fog that rolled in, my gills. The air was thick as a lemon pudding sliced its way to my windpipe with a vengeance demanding to be breathed. I’d consider that divine evolution, being so graciously gifted a new survival tool. 

Sometimes I wonder if I truly am all alone, as if that kind of movie-like situation would occur in my little life. Since the accident, this town has lost its way. The government has been reticent, either they’ve forgotten to update our radio broadcasts or day 135 is the longest day in history. To the best of my knowledge, the meltdown occurred when the bombs were dropped in New York, and a domino ripple effect worked its way down to us. Of course, we’ve never gotten to hear what happened in our neighbouring cities, although I'm sure they didn't fare any better than we did. Heavy borders were put in place when the cleanup started and it created a whirlwind of confusion from all sides. The cleanup crew all wore bright yellow plastic-like suits, and I always hid from them because of it. I was always taught to never approach strangers, especially in scary outfits. They haven’t been back in quite a while, and I’m left to wonder if they consider what they did a finished job. I hope that this is not the new normal forever, and my home will be restored one day.

╰┈➤

This was one of the old stories I submitted as part of my 'audition portfolio' for my screenwriting program in film school!

I ended up adapting and changing it a bit for a short film script :) This mutant idea was in my head for a while and I really liked how it came out, I might start working on this project again.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Pedantic, chapter two - a Malevolent AU

Arthur Lester is the best IT architect in the world, and the reason Carcosa, Inc. has its fingers in every pie. Government, medical, everyone in the world uses its systems. Arthur is also going blind and nearly gives up… until a deeply annoying cybersecurity programmer prods him into trying something new.

Chapter Two: It’s too much trust with too little information.

AO3

----------

The alarm was bad, and he felt bad.

Good morning, Arthur, said Cassilda, responding to his consciousness.

Damnable consciousness. Nobody needed it. Arthur grunted.

Do you wish for coffee?

Coffee; his grandmother would have lost her mind to see Arthur drinking it now instead of tea, but years working in Italy and then in San Francisco had made him something of a coffee fanatic. “Yes.”

He lay still while the smell filled his massive penthouse. Open concept taken to extremes, this place was one enormous square with specially coated glass floor to ceiling on all sides, so he could see everything and not be seen. The only actual opacity was around the bathroom, and while Arthur had still been able to see, that column of darkness in the middle of his precious, fading view was an affront.

He’d needed to see as much as he could, everything, everywhere, all the time.

It was pointless now, though. At night, he could no longer see, not even the nearest city lights. It was darkness. In day, it was blurr.

This disease wasn’t fully understood. It was genetic. Arthur’s family had handed it to succeeding generations like a toxic heirloom for hundreds of years. The doctors (Hastur ensured he had the best, no matter what country of origin) told him he was one of twelve known cases in the world.

The upshot of which meant that going blind happened to many people, but doing it like this had no cure.

Optical implants did not help; something was interfering with the actual signals in his brain. A full eye transplant did not help; poor Zhao had gone through that in Taiwan, but because the cause was somewhere else in the body, her new eyes still went dark.

Arthur knew he didn’t have much time left being able to do this all on his own. He’d been fighting since he was seventeen, doing everything he could to maintain his ability to see. The focus paid off, and the drive. He was fine, financially. He could retire right now, if he wanted to—as one of the best systems architects in the entire world, the jewel of Carcosa, Inc., he’d been paid very well.

But Arthur didn’t want to retire.

He would be making these systems even if he hadn’t been paid. He had to; he was driven, focused. Obsessed. He needed to keep working, creating, crafting better and better ways to handle the massive amount of data passing through Carcosa’s servers.

Damn near every country that could afford it used Play (a silly OS name, but Arthur liked it because it implied things like a closed structure, heavy editing, and trustworthy intention from beginning to end). It was flexible enough and secure enough for both military and political needs. Excellent for education and medical systems both. A person’s entire life was safe within Play.

(And he had said absolutely no to any lesser version of it being available for “just folks.” It was the full version or nothing. There would be no bastardized, trimmed down, pitifully gutted version of his masterpiece, thank you very much.)

He loved making things that just worked. Interfaces that were never confusing. He loved restraining and properly utilizing AI, loved tweaking those tiny, barely noticeable details that kept his GUI beautiful and sleek and made everyone who used it feel safe and well-regarded.

Arthur always made sure it met every damned security protocol. It wasn’t like he didn’t care about security. He just lacked Doe’s crystal ball or captured pixies or whatever the hell he used to predict whatever was coming down the pike.

Doe. John. He still didn’t know what to do about this bet. He rolled over and hid his face in the pillow.

Coffee’s ready, Arthur.

She made it sound divine.

He checked his feed as he staggered into the kitchen area (an island with a tiny stovetop and two refrigerated drawers—someone with the money for a penthouse like this was expected to eat out more than in) and listened to notifications and messages as he indulged.

Praise, mostly, of course. The new system had slid into place perfectly without disrupting anyone’s work-flow (which was his design ), and security was already reporting a significant decline of bad actors. Two countries had already needed Lullaby to save themselves from being digitally invaded.

Arthur checked. Yep, they’d invaded each other with malicious code. Unreal.

The last email was from Hastur. All it said was, Well done. Let’s talk about your next project.

There wouldn’t be one, no matter what John Doe said.

Arthur was young. He knew this. Thirty-four was hardly retirement age, especially when he didn’t want to, but… it wasn’t really an option, was it?

He’d been trying to work with Cassilda to code without being able to see, and… he couldn’t. He just couldn’t. It was trying to make music while deaf. It was trying to paint a portrait while colorblind. He could see what he wanted in his head, understand how to achieve it, but on the bad days…

On the bad days, he squinted an inch away from the screen, unable to make anything out at all.

Arthur switched off his feed and pulled up some old classic panel shows instead. A little David Mitchell ranting—beloved but long since deceased—could always get him in a good mood.

#

The commute was dull. His car drove itself. Arthur refused to engage with Doe.

Boring.

More congratulations as he got into the office, which was to be expected. He smiled, shook hands, took it as best he could, and finally retreated to his personal office space.

Glass, all around. Of course. And he could see… colors. Some shapes. The world made Impressionist, but he would not give up this hard-won office any more than he would his penthouse. Damn it. He’d cling to it as long as he could.

Hastur was calling.

Arthur sighed. “Pull up the video.” Because Hastur… Hastur really liked to see him, whether or not Arthur could see him back.

The three-dimensional image appeared over Arthur’s desk, full-size, beaming down from on high, and Arthur gave it his best smile. “Good to see you, sir.”

Even with fading vision, he could tell Hastur was having a great time. Blue sky rose behind him, and he was framed by figures in slinky gold. Faint music wafted through—strings, some instrumental version of classical music, Arthur thought by the Beastie Boys. And Hastur himself…

The old man was always a vision. Handsome, preened in that particular way only the very rich could be, he claimed to understand Arthur because of his own special needs: Hastur had lost his arms and legs as a soldier fighting in the war for Ythill. His disabilities, however, could be fixed with technology, and Hastur had gone hard.

Very few humans had the required intelligence and coordination to manage more than four limbs. Hastur managed ten: eight bionic tentacles below the waist, and a mere humble two above. He’d struck Arthur like some kind of wild, ancient god from the moment Hastur had recruited him; something out of myths and legends, who’d built an incredible company fulfilling incredible needs like a deity’s blessing.

Right now, Arthur could see several of the bionic limbs moving, doing who knew what off screen; Hastur was always multitasking. “Arthur. Brilliant. I have been instructed to give you presidential thanks.”

“Presidential? Which?”

Hastur smiled. “Several. It seems you’ve already stopped multiple ransomware attempts. You’ve done it again. You’re a boon to this company, Arthur.”

Relief. He would go out on a high note. “Thank you. Thank you, sir.” Arthur had not admitted he was going to quit after this. He had phrased it as taking vacation time.

Hastur knew, though. “Your next project.”

“Hastur, we… I told you I need a break.”

Hastur knew. “I know. You deserve vacation, and the rolled over days give you a while. But I want to know your next plan. Where can Carcosa be improved?”

And Arthur knew what he was doing. Trying to get him hooked on an idea, a project, a challenge—knowing all too well that the moment Arthur got truly invested, he could lose months in the planning and programming and execution. It was like blinders. It was like being driven by a vengeful muse.

And Arthur knew he couldn’t pull it off. There would be more errors, possibly dangerous ones like today. He couldn’t. “Hastur, we…”

Even from here, the old man’s face was hopeful, warm. Even if his eyes were like knives.

Arthur hated to disappoint him. He swallowed. “I’ll have an answer when I get back from vacation. As we discussed.”

“Yes, of course,” said Hastur, who clearly did not want to wait at all. “In the meantime, think of whatever you need for your new project, and I can supply it.”

The pressure was heavy. He owed Hastur everything. They both knew it. Arthur squirmed. “I haven’t taken a vacation in four years, sir.” Since his eyes began to really degenerate, and Zhao’s transplant had failed. Time off felt dangerously wasteful.

Hastur sighed. “Of course, Arthur. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, sir.”

And then Arthur had to smile and nod through twenty-five minutes of business gossip and stocks and purchasing opportunities and business rivals.

It was fine. He didn’t have to respond—just listen.

All the while, Hastur’s limbs worked, mixing drinks for his guests, doing who knew what with his contracts and his followers. The man never did just one thing at a time.

Arthur’s phone buzzed. Cassilda read it off: Gonna answer me, coward?

That asshole Doe! Why did he always have to be so damned aggressive?

But was he?

Was it… humor, again? Abrasive, like a dog that always bites when playing, but… “Never a day in my life,” Arthur answered, murmuring.

“I knew you’d agree,” said Hastur, who was talking about short selling.

Then take the bet. Coward.

Arthur considered.

“This will allow us to expand,” said Hastur. “The Mnomquah moon base first, obviously. But if we can get Play to work for the Martian colony…”

An enormous challenge. So far, it had been impossible to achieve fast, secure connectivity between Mars and Earth because, you know, space. “It seems risky,” said Arthur to John.

“But a risk worth the reward,” said Hastur.

Don’t take it and you lose a chance at continuing the thing that gives you joy, said the voice in his head. Take it, and you risk nothing.

“I risk failing. That’s loss of hope,” said Arthur.

“Oh, son, not at all,” said Hastur lightly. “If it fails, you will try again.”

So then you only lose the thing you already fucking threw away, said John Doe with the gentle delivery of a linebacker. But at least you tried.

Arthur wanted to argue with them both, but one of them was actually right. He was giving up. Throwing hope away. “I guess it comes down to choosing to have more hope, then?”

Now you’re getting it.

“Now, you’re getting it,” said Hastur in eerie approximation of that digitized voice. He leaned in, and Arthur had the impression he was being studied. “I hope this isn’t a repeat of that moment of weakness two years ago.”

Two years ago, Arthur had considered quitting. Considered leaving and enjoying the world while he could still see it. Maybe going nuts and taking one of the ridiculously expensive civilian trips to the Martian Aihai base, or something.

Hastur had convinced him not to do it. To spend what time he had left creating instead, building his legacy—and Arthur didn’t mind that. This was what he loved, and he suspected he’d only have lasted a week without architecting something, anyway. (He’d had the thought of completely redesigning the entire Aihai base just out of twitchy need, and it made him laugh.)

Still. Hastur would push him to do something he didn’t want to do if he admitted how he felt right now, and Arthur did not like to be pushed. “No, sir,” he lied, knowing Cassilda would understand sir meant absolutely not John Doe.

Fuck!!!

Arthur jumped. The reader had been interpreted that as a yell.

Exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point, Cassilda helpfully read off.

Hastur seemed to be studying him again. Maybe his lie hadn’t been good enough.

Sorry. Spilled coffee approximately the temperature of the fucking sun all over hell.

Arthur’s lips twitched. “Are you all right?”

“Only if you are. You’re the soul of this company, Arthur,” said Hastur.

“What, not the heart, too?” Arthur teased.

“A heart without a soul is dead and unbeating. I need you, Arthur. Your innovation.”

It’s on my lap, not my chest. Weirdo.

How could this completely busted three-way conversation make him want to laugh when he really wanted to cry. “Sir, I…”

“You’re worrying me a little. In the wake of such a success you should be happier.”

Arthur sighed. “I just don’t know if I can do this.”

Both the other two were briefly silent.

“You will,” said Hastur, and it sounded almost like a threat.

You know what? Maybe not. But maybe you can. And I wanna be there either way.

“Why?” said Arthur.

“I believe I’ve already answered that,” said Hastur, low.

Maybe I don’t want to see the most brilliant man I’ve ever tangled with give up without a fight.

“I…” whispered Arthur, unsure whom he was responding to.

“You know what? You’re right, Arthur,” said Hastur. “You need a break. You’re burned out. I’ll have Kayne set up a vacation for you.”

Oh, he did not want that. “Sir, with all due respect, I can do it myself.”

“Nonsense. And put more on your clearly overburdened plate? You’re a tender soul, Arthur. I will see you taken care of.”

Arthur sighed. It wasn’t as if he had to do whatever bonzo-loco coo-coo-manic thing Kayne suggested. The man was just so fucking hard to say no to. “Sir…”

“No, no, I’ve taken enough of your time. Go take your break. I look forward to seeing you revived and ready to innovate.” Hastur toasted him with a weirdly shimmering gold drink.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good day.” He made the hand gesture to shut the call off.

Arthur slumped in his seat with a moan. This was going to be so hard. How the hell could he get Hastur to understand? Hastur had plucked him from obscurity when he was fifteen, based entirely on a project Arthur built for a contest to redesign the local waste facility’s system. He’d believed in Arthur. Always supported him. How could—

Still haven’t answered me. Coward.

“Still thinking. Prick.”

I await your graciousness’s response with eagerness, said the reader with none of the sarcasm that Doe surely intended.

Arthur snorted. “You’re serious about this?”

Completely.

Was there really anything to lose?

More pain to gain, maybe. A second loss of hope.

But… he would have tried. Surely that mattered. To be able to enter full darkness with no regrets…

Arthur took a deep breath. “All right, Doe. You’re on.”

John. And fuck yeah.

“John.”

Took you long enough, Just Arthur.

John Doe may be a bitey dog, but he wasn’t, maybe, a mean one. “I’ll let you know what the project will be. Do we need a contract, or something?”

If you want. I don’t feel like I need to be protected against you. You’ve got a good rep.

John didn’t have enough of a rep for Arthur to make that guess regarding him. “I’ll let you know.”

I’ll be waiting.

It was time to make a call.

#

It hadn’t been a bad breakup. It really hadn’t. Parker had never been pushy, even when Arthur was at his worst. They just… hadn’t worked as lovers.

They were better friends. And Arthur didn’t have a lot of those.

He usually didn’t call for business, though. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Parker sounded surprised. It was only about five in the afternoon in San Fran, and he was probably still at work. “Everything okay?”

“That obvious I need something, huh?”

Parker’s chair creaked as he leaned back. Arthur could imagine it all too well—his office, papered in clues and letters and reports and photos, analog to the core because he believed seeing it all jogged the human brain in a way digital renditions didn’t. “You’re not in the middle of a project, which is when you usually call to bitch. Congrats, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said, smiling a little.

“It’s not the weekend, which is also when you usually call after you’ve had a bunch to drink alone,” said Parker.

“Hey, I’m not always alone,” Arthur protested.

Parker ignored that lie. “So what’s up?”

“Can you look into someone for me?”

Another creak as Parker leaned forward. “Professionally or personally?”

“Parker, what the hell does that mean?”

“I mean do you want to date the guy, or is this a business venture?”

“What the hell difference does it make?”

“One means I tell you anything I can find about the guy. The other means I elaborate on his resume.”

This was about trust. It had to be personal. “I’m not dating anybody, but I want the former. I’m giving this guy access to my code as I write it, Parker.”

Parker understood that. “Shit. You sure you’re not dating him?”

“I’ve never even met him. He lives in New York City.”

Another creak. “Okay. I’ll do it. Name?”

“John Doe. Head of cybersecurity for Carcosa.”

Parker paused. “You realize I won’t be able to learn a lot about a guy who’s that into security.”

“Just everything you can. He came out of nowhere a year ago. That’s not good enough.”

“All right. Yeah, I can do this. When do you need it?”

“ASAP. I’m paying your expedited rate.”

“Arthur, you don’t gotta pay me nothing.”

“Double negative. So we agree.”

“Arthur.”

“I’m paying you. Shut up.”

“Fine.” Parker’s voice betrayed his smile. “ASAP.”

“Thanks.”

“Sure.”

They said their goodbyes and Arthur got to work, answering questions from the press, turning down interviews (he always did), choosing charities to put money into, choosing schools to fund for their IT programs.

His legacy. He knew it mattered. One such program had given him everything he now had.

The time passed slowly; it always did, after a project launched, and no matter how tired he was, he hated the sluggishness of downtime. He handled office requests, signed off on a few smaller projects still under his mantle, and by the time he was done with all of that, he knew what his next project would be.

A new idea always felt so damn good. Now he had to wait for Parker to do his own magic.

------

CHAPTER THREE