#inner child adopted pitch

[new-berry]

Anthony Gordon. Part of his campaign to be selected for England he authorised this - look I follow entertainment, I know when someone has allowed People to leak the story

This is a cut and paste so no pics:).

Anthony Gordon has five days off — not that it looks that way.

The air-conditioning cannot stem the sweat and the whirring of the treadmill does not drown out the thoughts turning in his head.

It is June 2023 and the Newcastle winger is on a short holiday in Dubai. Hours earlier, he scored his first goal for the club against Chelsea, sweeping home on the season’s final day in a 1-1 draw. The next week, he is due to link up with England’s under-21 team at the European Championship in Georgia. Five days — his first break since January’s £45million ($57.3m) transfer from Everton — seems scant respite before a 50-game season.

“It’s tough to get out of bed to do roadwork when you’ve been sleeping in silk pyjamas,” the legendary middleweight Marvin Hagler once said. But Gordon, a boxing devotee, does not yet feel that luxury has been earned.

Friends jog sedately on the neighbouring machines, describing a gym buddy who is “running with a point to prove”. On other mornings, he rises early to put on his football boots and do doggie sprints — a punishing series of shuttle runs — on a patch of grass outside.

Since he was a child in Everton’s academy, Gordon has written down short-term, medium-term, and long-term goals. During this particular cardio session, he runs through his aims as he elongates his strides. Six months into his Newcastle career, it is time to accelerate.

“I’m going to help England win the Euros.”

“I want the No 10 or No 11 shirt at Newcastle.”

“I’m going to score this number of goals.”

“I want a senior England call-up.”

Halfway through the season, the 22-year-old is on track to hit almost all those targets. Despite the club’s difficult winter, Gordon has arguably been Newcastle’s player of the season so far — it took until December before he recorded two consecutive Premier League games without either a goal or an assist. In the FA Cup third round, he delivered the sort of harrying derby performance which begins to stitch names in the fabric of a club. At the club’s Darsley Park training ground, coaches describe a relentlessness to his self-improvement, a player who has to be dragged off the pitch in case of overexertion.

“He’s obsessed with being the best; it physically hurts him if he hasn’t been the best in training,” says a member of his tight-knit inner circle, speaking anonymously to protect their relationship. “He has that personality. Everything’s a game. Everything he has to win.”

That even extended to table tennis matches on his summer not-quite-holiday, chewing out friends who dared to challenge him. Like his adoptive city, he is direct, uncompromising and industrious.

Reader, boxer, aspiring Grandmaster, these are the edges behind this season’s explosion — and the secrets to the psychology which keeps him on the treadmill.

“The biggest thing for me was that he was always searching to go to the next level early,” says David Unsworth, Everton’s former academy head and interim manager. “At under-16s, he was desperate to get into the under-18s. As soon as he was in the under-18s, he was trying desperately to come with me (in the under-23s). As soon as he came with me, he was desperate to get into first-team training.

“That desire to get to the next level is something you can’t really instil in people.”

Gordon has always known where he wants to go. As a young teenager, he spoke in absolutes, with certainty. “When I play for Real Madrid,” was one example of an early dream.

Self-belief is not always easy to come by, especially when you have to fight for recognition. At 11 years old, Gordon was rejected by the academy of his boyhood club, Liverpool. He was not immediately snapped up by Everton either — their development centre initially released him before they were urged to reconsider by respected Merseyside scout Ian Duke.

Goodison Park is just a five-minute stroll from his mother’s house in Kirkdale and ahead of one pre-season game, Gordon was spotted walking to the ground with his boots under one arm. But there were no guarantees he would even make it this far.

Though his attacking talent was always recognised by Everton, there were long-standing doubts over his slender physique and work rate. While several others in his cohort were offered a professional contract by the club, he was initially just offered a lesser scholarship.

On the pitch, he was a match-winner,” says Unsworth. “The biggest problem we had with him was his stamina. So he played a lot of left midfield, on the left of a three, but he would just die on 60 minutes. He would look like he was being lazy and couldn’t get back, but it wasn’t that, he had just emptied his tank because he put so much into the first hour.”

In the summer of 2017, with his charge just 16, Unsworth took matters into his own hands at a pre-season boot camp in Spain. The most common word used to describe these few days was “beasting”. Misplaced passes and minor positional errors brought the burn of push-ups.

“He could be so harsh,” Gordon recalled in 2020. “It felt like an army camp. It was my first involvement with the under-23s and physically and mentally, I was drained. I matured into a man that week. We always had a good relationship off the pitch and (Unsworth) always told me how good I was, although you forget about that when you lose the ball in 80-degree heat and he’s making you do push-ups.”

The results began to follow. Still mostly playing for the under-18s that season, Gordon scored 14 goals in 15 appearances, along with four assists. A trademark attacking move still seen at Newcastle — drifting infield before curling a shot towards the far post on his right foot — was on full display.

He also made his first appearance for the first team — a brief substitute appearance against Apollon Limassol in a Europa League dead rubber. On that night, his callowness was evident— his shorts virtually down to his knees, a pair of Next boxer shorts on full display.

Though there were no issues with Gordon’s display, it would be almost two years before his next first-team appearance. It is hard to break through at Everton. Despite traditionally having one of the Premier League’s stronger academies, the club’s long trophyless run affects opportunities — they are less likely to blood youngsters in the cup, while managerial turnover means coaches are less likely to consider the potential long-term benefits.

In 2018-19, Gordon made the step up to the under-23s, helping Everton win the Premier League 2, and rival clubs were beginning to take notice. Strikingly, the calibre of sides after him included German giants Bayern Munich and Borussia Dortmund, whose interest was firm and sustained.

Gordon decided to stay — a combination of his “homebird” nature and assurances by then manager Marco Silva that he would soon be part of the first-team setup. At Everton’s Finch Farm training ground, Unsworth took the lead in poring over the physical data of the club’s starting attackers with Gordon — the likes of Richarlison and Dominic Calvert-Lewin — to provide a model for the teenager’s burgeoning work rate. Director of football Marcel Brands, who arrived in June 2018 having previously overseen PSV’s highly-rated academy, was also a major fan.

The chances, however, did not come. By the time lockdown hit in early 2020, Carlo Ancelotti had taken over from an embattled Silva, but his man-management style typically favoured established professionals. Gordon took matters into his own hands.

Moving out of the family home during lockdown, Gordon shut himself away in a house previously rented by Mohamed Salah with former Liverpool prospect Bobby Duncan and another friend, Callum Webb, who worked as a personal trainer.

For three months, the group did nothing but work — weights, circuits, runs around the local golf course. They hired a private chef to cook meals. Each night, ahead of the next day’s triple session, Gordon brought his notebook so he could research Webb’s planned exercises. For a player not yet established at first-team level, his initiative was striking.

Impressed and with his fitness levels among the best in the squad, Ancelotti handed him his first Premier League start in the first game of Project Restart. This was no easing in — but a Merseyside derby against title-chasing Liverpool. Just over a week after the 0-0 draw, Gordon delivered his first Premier League assist against Leicester.

Yet, that summer, Gordon again found his pathway blocked — this time by a global superstar. When Colombia international James Rodriguez arrived at Goodison Park, the teenager was uncowed. “I’m better than him,” was his attitude, revealing he knocked on Ancelotti’s door, a manager at that time with three Champions League trophies, to ask for more minutes.

Ancelotti admired Gordon’s chutzpah, but with Everton doing well in the league midway through 2020-21, the manager sanctioned a January loan. The reality was closer to a cattle market.

Around 25 clubs expressed their interest, including half the clubs in the Championship. From abroad, Hamburg and Wolfsburg were also serious contenders. Amid the battle was Bournemouth head coach Eddie Howe, keen to take him to the south coast, though the club’s Premier League status meant Gordon would not be assured game time.

On deadline day, the winger elected to join nearby Preston having given manager Alex Neil his word earlier in the window. In hindsight, the decision appeared a mistake. Neil was sacked soon after Gordon’s arrival and despite the teenager winning man of the match in an early fixture televised on Sky Sports, new boss Frankie McAvoy switched to playing five at the back. Gordon ended up appearing in just 11 Championship matches and the Champions League felt a world away.

“There is never a bad loan for a young player in terms of your long-term career,” says Unsworth. “Anthony went there, he was training with the first team, he didn’t play a great deal, and that probably fuelled his desire even more.” He was right on that.

“The Championship is a whole different world to the Premier League,” Gordon said afterwards. “I was getting used to that and thinking, ‘This is not where I want to be’. That’s where you see a lot of young players either push on or fizzle out. I wasn’t going to be the one to fizzle out.”

Back in Liverpool, it is fight night. If Gordon returned to Everton in search of fireworks, then this was a place to find it. Liverpool is a city with a proud boxing history, producing world champions such as John Conteh, Tony Bellew and brothers Liam and Callum Smith, who both grew up in the same Kirkdale neighbourhood as Gordon.

This evening, it is Peter McGrail in the ring, the super-bantamweight and former Olympian boxing to protect his undefeated record. He wins handily, comfortably inside the distance, and trainer Paul Stevenson begins the debrief, wanting to set his fighter free into the night. Afterwards, in walks a teenager.

“Peter is friends with Anthony, but I hadn’t met him before,” says Stevenson. “He just came backstage and asked if he could do some sessions with me. He said he’d done it as a kid, was very enthusiastic, and wanted to improve cross-discipline. So he came in and was good. Boxing is a very technical sport. If you follow advice, you get better quickly.”

When Gordon signed for Newcastle, Kieran Trippier joked that he better be wearing his boxing gloves after a testy duel at St James’ Park earlier that season. In truth, the new arrival had more than a puncher’s chance. Stevenson was impressed with what his new charge showed.

“You’re always careful with new boxers not to overload, but I found he could take a lot on for a novice,” he says, revealing no other footballer had ever come to him for similar training. “He already had some skills which were transferable — agility, athleticism, physical intelligence — but I think the boxing helped his football.

“It’s a very explosive sport, the amount of brain power which goes into it, if you’re doing it properly, there’s no sport like it. The speed of thought and technique — you don’t just think of your own moves, you think of your opponent’s next moves — and you’re doing it quickly and you’re doing it with pain. Then add the amount of determination and resilience you have to have and you can see why he was attracted to it as an athlete and as a performer.”

Gordon credits the sport with helping his confidence and self-esteem as he adapted to senior football, but also more tangible footballing effects.

“A family member actually said to me after I started boxing that my whole football game changed and I didn’t really notice it until he said it,” Gordon told TNT Sports in 2021. “I was like, ‘You’re right’. I like tackles now and I like contact.”

After signing for Newcastle, Gordon asked Stevenson if he could recommend any local trainers to continue boxing and was given the number of a gym in Peterlee, though he has not continued the sport since moving to the north east. But that was still a first-team breakthrough, two years, and £45million away.

Back in the summer of 2021, after Ancelotti’s sudden departure to Real Madrid, strong interest came in again, with Hamburg close to taking him on loan. But after a strong pre-season, new manager Rafa Benitez refused to sanction any departure. For the first time, Gordon was an established first-team player.

What happens when you summit the mountain but cannot see the view?

Everton started to struggle as Gordon began to flourish, slipping from the top half of the Premier League to the relegation zone. Though he only managed four Premier League goals in 2021-22, the eye test showed a player bearing much of the creative burden, with his interventions also including a crucial winner against Manchester United as Everton scrapped for survival.

Shuffled between left wing, right wing, No 10, and even makeshift striker, Gordon was picking up bruises but also bouquets. By this time already a regular of Lee Carsley’s England Under-21 squad, his breakthrough season brought further attention from clubs aware of Everton’s parlous finances.

Chelsea came in with multiple bids that summer, with Thomas Tuchel wanting to transform him into a wing-back. Everton had engaged in negotiations, but it is understood that Richarlison’s sale to Tottenham Hotspur significantly diminished their desire to sell — late chairman Bill Kenwright did not want two stars to leave in a single window.

Nevertheless, things moved quickly by January, with Everton continuing to struggle both on and off the pitch. Newcastle agreed a £45million deal, to be paid in a lump sum to help Everton’s FFP, and amid a situation at Goodison Park which was growing more toxic, Gordon was suddenly no longer a boy clad in royal blue.

The thorny circumstances of Gordon’s exit are still painful for both the club’s fans and the player himself. Everton put out statements saying Gordon had not reported for training while he was negotiating a transfer in London at the request of owner Farhad Moshiri and Gordon admitted his hurt at the club’s curt 59-word departure statement.

Twelve months on, it is evident that the move suited all parties — Everton received a large sum for an academy product and have re-emerged stronger, Gordon had a more stable environment, and Newcastle had a long-term target.

For a little while, however, it looked as if Tottenham were Newcastle’s main rivals. Director of football Fabio Paratici, noticing Gordon’s defiance in a 5-0 loss at Spurs in March, later described the winger in transfer discussions as his “favourite player in the Premier League”. Antonio Conte was also a fan, with multiple discussions taking place between both clubs and Gordon’s representatives.

Ultimately, however, the choice came down to the winger. Gordon was won over by Newcastle’s trajectory — his admiration for Howe, the style being played, and the club’s rapid improvements — and was earmarked by recruitment staff as a priority target.

Some fans were sceptical — seeing a player whose goals and assists record did not match up to their Champions League pursuit and who had been rubbed up the wrong way by his on-pitch scrappiness. But Gordon was betting on himself. He always had.

In many ways, Gordon’s first months at Newcastle were reminiscent of his frustrations at the start of his Everton career. Despite his physical training, Howe’s system demanded a higher work rate still, an evolution of the off-ball skills which initially attracted Newcastle. The tactics also bore a weight — moving to a possession-based side for the first time in his career. The initial minutes were not what he anticipated.

“I would say last year it was difficult because I had to come in and sort of swallow my ego a lot,” he told the Newcastle programme earlier this season. “People talk about ego as a bad thing, but it’s not. None of us get to this level without having an ego.

“But I think I came in and expected a lot of myself and the way the team was, with the momentum they had, it was always going to be difficult. But I was a bit naive to that, so it was accepting that and moving on quickly and just accepting that it wasn’t going to be easy.”

These exasperations came to a head against Brentford in April, when Gordon, having delivered an impressive cameo off the bench, was substituted himself with moments remaining. He cast off Howe’s attempted greeting and threw himself into his seat, seething. Howe ground his teeth at the impudence. Sources from both the player and club side insist the incident was forgotten about within 24 hours, but its symbolism remained — the impatience of unfulfilled expectation.

It is undeniable, despite his goal on the final day of the season, that it was a frustrated Gordon sprinting on the hotel treadmill, running towards a future which he cannot bear to wait for. This is the natural by-product of a psychology which the player himself describes as fixated, with his obsessive, driven personality leading to an intensity which can be misperceived from afar.

As well as the Brentford incident, take the ire among Newcastle fans after his win-at-all-costs display at St James’ Park for Everton last season, or the anger from Everton supporters when he was open to furthering his career in the north east.

“I get really obsessed with things,” he told Newcastle’s website in September. “Whatever is on my mind for those couple of weeks, I’ll buy all the gear, research every detail of it — it’s just my personality.

“I think that’s a good thing because I don’t just settle for being average at something — I want to be the best at everything I do. It’s a good mindset to have, but I think it stresses the people around me out.”

That manifests itself in physical preparation — holiday doggie sprints before breakfast — but also his downtime. While on international duty at the Euros, Gordon replaced black and white stripes with black and white checks, challenging the entire squad to games of chess.

Several footballers play — AC Milan forward Christian Pulisic a notable example — with the blitz and rapid formats pushing players to make quick decisions. That chess is boxing without the violence also appealed. The only opponent he could not vanquish was team doctor Matt Perry — who was on a “different level” to anyone else in the squad.

In Georgia, staff members were impressed with the extent to which Gordon had matured since his early days in the international setup. Reflecting his importance to the squad, Lee Carsley trusted him with a crucial tactical brief — a false nine role which did not come naturally. The tournament, however, was a blinding success — securing two goals and an assist, the tip of England’s spear as they won the tournament.

Most encouraging of all was the development of two areas of his game — link-up play and finishing — which playing through the middle forced him to develop. UEFA awarded him player of the tournament, joining a list of luminaries such as Petr Cech, Fabio Cannavaro, Luis Figo, Andrea Pirlo. Goal one — complete.

“I’ve always said he can play left, he can play right, he can link, he can play 10,” says Unsworth. “He can actually play in the midfield three. But when he develops physically, upper-body wise, when he becomes a real mature man, I think he’ll actually end up as a striker if I’m being honest with you because he’s got everything and he’s good in the air as well.”

He pauses, before adding: “You know, the thing with Anthony, he’s a very intelligent footballer both on and off the pitch. I found that quite endearing to be honest. He would always ask the question ‘Why?’.”

It is a question Gordon has never stopped asking. He is a voracious reader, constantly making his way through sporting biographies, psychology manuals and leadership theory, with a half-finished text always found on some surface at his home.

Kobe Bryant’s book, The Mamba Mentality, is a particular favourite, outlining not just his dedication, but also his resilience — the NBA’s all-time leader in missed shots, but also fourth on the all-time scoring list. In the difficult periods of the past 18 months, one suspects it helped.

Another of Gordon’s hobbies is snooker — the winger playing a range of cue sports from a young age — with seven-time world champion Ronnie O’Sullivan another hero, despite his clear differences from Bryant.

The Chimp Paradox, written by O’Sullivan’s sports psychiatrist Steve Peters, is another well-thumbed book, which has helped him separate the emotional side of his brain (the chimp) from the analytical part (the human). Pivotal, Gordon found, was how to control and train the chimp — making instincts your best friend rather than worst enemy is pivotal to a footballer forced to make both quick decisions and exist in the public sphere.

It is a window into his process. After completing each book, Gordon will steal nuggets of information he feels can help him — a magpie mentality as well as a mamba.

“I found it to be very easy to try and get Anthony to focus because he was desperate,” says Unsworth. “And when you are desperate to do something, certainly when you back that up with the individual talent, 99 times out of 100, you will succeed.”

In the past year, the 22-year-old has left his boyhood club, acclimatised to another, brought himself to the edge of the England squad and, in recent months, become a father.

Life, like Gordon himself, is relentless. But this is a psychology that knows little else. There is nothing to do but get back on the treadmill and start sprinting. It is not yet time for the silk pyjamas.

[circusclownsam]

Harry Potter OC

Basics

Name: Min-Ya Choi

Nickname: Minnie, Ms. Choi

Gender: Female

Born: 3 - 9

Age: 18-19

Blood status: Pureblood

Blood type: A+

Nationality: Australian - Korean

Race: Asian

Scent: a soft, vanilla smell

Known languages: korean, english

Voice: mid pitch, with a noticeable australian accent

Appearance

Height: 158cm, 5’2

Weight: light

Face Claim: https://pin.it/5FkjIFk

Body shape: hourglass, average thickness, small waist, d cup size

Skin tone: warm tan

Hair colour: dark chocolate brown

Eyes: dark blue with specks of light blue

Hair texture: 2C

Hair length: roughly thigh length

scars: inner thighs, arms and back. prefers hiding them, won’t speak of how/when she got them

Other features: dimpled smile, freckled cheeks, shoulders and nose.

Outfits

Uniform;

: https://pin.it/6cY7St8

: https://pin.it/7AWCC0A

: https://pin.it/2ZeWkNGwC

: https://pin.it/4MiN8Fa

: https://pin.it/7hcXX4u

: https://pin.it/2lIqr0e

: https://pin.it/MHCJP9GP3

Yule Ball / Formal;

: https://pin.it/3OjQ8F6Xx

: https://pin.it/6PKK2GsQo

: https://pin.it/2gAFQWg

Sleep;

: https://pin.it/7DQDxyi

: https://pin.it/1MH6rI5

: https://pin.it/3TSv6mJzh

Casual;

: https://pin.it/2k10GCH1x

: https://pin.it/3gvAHtbGv

: https://pin.it/6q9ZH0Cwb

: https://pin.it/3vHsSa3BA

Personality

Good traits: kind, caring, selfless, honest, thoughtful, protective, brave

Negative traits: introverted, cold, sarcastic, blunt, judgmental [to an extent]

Neutral traits: flirtatious [idk, i’ll add more to it later]

Interests: being left alone and not prodded at; especially when it comes to studying, practicing spells with Luna and Cho, every now and then she enjoys spending time with the golden trio; mostly to taunt Hermione or tease Harry. When alone, she likes to paint and draw creatures of sorts and sometimes people, not minding if they come to life- she enjoys the company and the occasional compliment.

Disinterests: being poked and prodded at; her personal space is most important to her, being in large crowds for too long- finding them suffocating after a while, too sugary treats- things like taffy and hard candy hurt her jaw, rumours being spread around about her and her friendships- she finds them tasteless and a waste of time., being compared to other students by her father

Favourites: lemon sherbet candy, snakes [of any variety], herbology class

Least favourites: taffy and hard candy, her grandmother would force her to eat them whenever she would visit.

Goals: to be good at all classes, even if she fails one or two.

Fears: deep bodied water, disappointing her mother and father.

Talents: painting, drawing, flying and Herbology

Habits: fiddling with her hair, picking at her lips. As well as scratching at her scars when overwhelmed or having a flashback.

Hogwarts/magic information

House: Slytherin

Year: 1-7

Pet brought along: her tarantula named Mango (often seen talking to the creature)

Classes: she attends any standard class, much like her peers.

Best class: Herbology

Worst class: Dark Arts

Wand: 11inches, Yew with a Core of Dragon Heartstring.

Boggart: her father

Patronus: a bunny

Relationships

Mother: Lin Choi, alive, close relationship. Currently working a muggle job, despite being a witch.

Father: Robert Choi, alive, strained relationship due to prolonged abuse. Well known wizard.

Siblings: only child, though she’s been “adopted” by the weasley family.

Other relatives: a grandmother on her fathers side, strained relationship due to being forced-fed sweets which led to her being overweight as a child.

Friends: Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, Neville

Best friend: George and Fred, Luna, Cho, Hagrid

Crush: N/A (depends on roleplay)

History

Home country: South Korea, moved to Australia for a few years before being accepted into hogwarts.

Currently living status: a single room at Hogwarts (per request of her father)

History/Childhood: she prefers to not remember her childhood due to prolonged abuse from her father and grandmother.

[tarotlogy]

THE ACE OF WANDS REVERSED

GETTING THE THUMBS DOWN, BLOCKS AND DELAYS

KEYWORDS

Blocks/Challenges/Obstacles, Delays, Set-Backs, Creative Blocks, Nothing Original, No Up For It, Unrealised Potential, Missed Opportunity, Unassertive, Lack of Growth/Momentum, Slow, Sluggish, Stilted, Stunted, Hesitation, Distracted, Over Burdened/Stretched/Committed, No Staying Power, Procrastination, Thumbs Down, Red Light, Brakes Applied, Halted, Reining Back, Reverse, Failure, Failing to Progress, Dead Ends, Mistake, Overlooked/Bypassed, Predictable, Stuck/Rooted, Pessimism, Fear of Change/Travel, Lack of Ambition/Drive, Lack of Initiative,  Uninspired, No Vision, Can’t See Big Picture, Poor Sales Pitch, Inflated Ego, Misdirected Pride, Lack of Enthusiasm, Disinterest, Dull, Dissipation, Unfinished Business, Drop, Fall, Disappointing News, Frustration, Red Tape, Tedium, Slog,  Impatience, Lack of Energy, Fatigue, Listless, Dispirited, Apathetic, Nervous Exhaustion, Frazzled Nerves, Need A Break, Over-tired, Impotency, Sexual Dysfunction, Stood Up, Cancelled Date, Partying Hard, One-Night Stands, Overly Intense, Stifling, Turnabout of Feelings, Illegitimacy, Inner Child Issues, No Play, Too Serious,  No Fun,Feeling Old

DIVINATORY MEANING

When the Ace of Wands Reverses, we now see a very definite ‘thumbs down’ signal. This brings disappointing and frustrating news and does not bode well for a successful launch or start. However, it does not mean the end of your dream, ambition or goal, but rather that it will not be as straightforward as anticipated. The Wand is in danger of falling from the Hand. It can no longer maintain an Upright stance as it loses power and the Fire begins to flicker or die. The Castle/Goal and journey weigh heavily on the mind but how can one travel forth with such low energy. It now appears a task too great to accomplish. Why would this be so? The Wand may have fallen into Reverse because you are focusing too much on the Big Picture and not interested at all in the tedious, but necessary, tasks that need to be worked through in order to arrive at your destination. No, you just want to be there now. It will be understood eventually that the thrill and excitement is to be found on the journey, not necessarily  on attaining the goal or prize.

Set-backs and Delays

When Reversed The Ace of Wands can still indicate a good energetic and enthusiastic start to a project but progress may be slower due to delays and setbacks experienced. Momentum can be halted as the first real hurdles or challenges come into sight. Irritating and often senseless objections stand in the way of you and your destination. All the Aces Reversed can bring restriction to progress or growth in their governing Element. The energy is stilted or restricted from flowing freely and this often throws a spanner in the works. You are bound to feel frustrated and impatient with all the delays and set-backs when all you want to do is get going.  You may feel that there is too much red tape surrounding everything you do and that others are moving too slow for your liking.  Take a deep breath and relax.  There is nothing that can be done at this moment in time.  While you are only interested in looking at the big picture others have to deal with the tedium of the boring practicalities of every move you wish to make.  Let this happen and then when you are free to move you will be in a much stronger and safer position.  Attempting to force things now may lead to failure.  Being arrogant and boorish will get you nowhere.  Tread carefully, those who you are relying on to open doors, or give you the ‘green light’, may feel you are too hot to handle. Keep your temper under control and remain positive and optimistic. Do not show fear at this stage as you need to gain trust and support. Tell yourself it will all work out and adopt an upbeat approach.

The Red Light

However, this Reversed Ace can also signal a ‘Thumbs Down’ the ‘Red Stop Light’ to a project as the hand holding the wand now reverses. You may be trying to run with an unworkable plan or idea. Being overly proud may make it difficult for you to back down and admit it’s a non-runner. Those around you may see you as overly optimistic, idealistic, reckless or crazy. You might continue to push or attempt to force a situation. You may not understand that it is over and ‘The Fat Lady Has Sung’. You may have a reputation for being involved in doomed or failed start-ups. Investors back off or give you a wide berth.

Missed Opportunity

When the Reversed Ace of Wands appears, we might be looking at a missed opportunity or chance. You had the Wand in your hand but something happened. Did you hesitate for too long before running with it, and now its Fire has burned out, the window of opportunity gone, shut? Are you looking at the withered Wand feeling bitter and annoyed? Perhaps you talked yourself out of it or let someone else? He who hesitates is lost! You might have been too fearful of what it asked of you and threw it away before your fingers got burned. Maybe you don’t see  yourself as the torch-bearer or trail blazer and handed it over to someone better equipped to work with it. It’s a pity if lack of self-belief and ambition drove your choice.

Fear of Change

This Reversed Ace can be a sign that you avoid change or the beginning of new things. You may prefer to keep things as they are and don’t see the need for any adventure in your life. A lack of spontaneity and fun can make you lackluster, apathetic and dull. There is no spark in you. You don’t believe in Magic or luck. This card can be highlighting the need to spice up your life. Your spirit is low and needs to be brought to life. The inner-child is kept under lock and key. There is little real enjoyment in anything you do. Time to work on releasing the old so that you can embrace the new. Both you and your life may need a total make-over.

Too Many Irons in The Fire

We might also be looking at the chance you mistakenly dropped the baton at a pivotal moment. You might have been distracted, your attention focused elsewhere when the Wand/opportunity was handed to you. You weren’t quite ready for it, perhaps it came sooner than you expected and caught you off guard.  You really wanted to take it, enthusiastic to jump at the chance and join the race, but your hands might have been full as they were. This prevented you from getting a proper hold, a firm grasp, and so the Wand/opportunity could easily have fallen, got damaged or broken. One way or another you will have to do a lot of work to catch up with your fellow competitors for you have fallen quite behind.  You may not have enough energy or enthusiasm to get this project off the ground, or the opportunity has passed. The timing may be off. You are really eager to get going with your plans but you are not yet ready.  When a card falls Reversed, there is generally a need to go back to the preceding Upright Card to master the lesson contained within. In the case of the Aces, we go back to the number 10 card of its Suit for guidance.  We must look at the Ten of Wands to see where the problem lies.

The reason for your clumsiness, distraction and lack of progress is possibly down to having too many projects going on at the one time. You have too many existing responsibilities and commitments. Your enthusiasm and drive must be commended, but it is not possible to be all things to everyone and everything at the same time. It is imperative you lighten your load before you take on anything new. You are very eager to say yes to everything but underestimate the time and energy that is required to successfully manage them all.  You have many interests but little skill in prioritising. You sign up before you read the fine print and then get burdened with the weight of it all. Because you rarely get the time to finish anything you start, before adding a new project to the mix, you are getting increasingly frustrated at your lack of success in following things through to completion. And now here is another Wand you want to add to your load because you just can’t let the chance go. You are getting nowhere and need to settle on reducing your workload. All the other Wands in your life need to be sorted, loose ends tied up, and unfinished business attended to before anything new can start.  You probably have too many projects going on at the one time leaving you with precious little time to give the attention they need.   It’s no wonder you dropped the Wand or got left behind. Have you taken on too much by any chance? Have you overstretched yourself ?

Uncertainty – The Need for Self-Discovery

The Reversed Ace of Wands can suggest you may feel dispirited and quite deflated. This could be a sign that the Salesman has not done his job. He might or might not have convinced others but is it possible he hasn’t convinced himself? Is there a hesitation about the direction you say you want to head in and what you want to do? Do you lack self-belief and conviction? You might be unsure of opportunities that have come your way. Somehow or other you are not buying into any of them right now. Do any of them offer what you really want? Have you defined what would give you purpose in life, what would light your Fire and excite you? What enthuses you? You might be conflicted and desperately frustrated. You know you should be doing something, but what that something is you haven’t got a clue. What you need is to be inspired and the only way to do that is to look outside your world and see what captures your attention and imagination. This Ace often suggests a talent that is denied or has not yet been discovered. Therefore it is necessary to embark on a journey of self-discovery before making any great choices in life. I know this means wasting even more time, but it will be time well spent. You don’t seem to be happy with many of the choices you have made so far. You cannot move forward until you have enough drive, motivation and ambition to do so. If not, you will fall at the first hurdle.

Planning Permission Objections

If looking for planning permission to build, extend or restore, prepare for several annoying objections which will hold up the start date. You might be driven to distraction with the senseless demands of planning officials or neighbours who repeatedly thwart your attempts. You will probably have several set-backs before you get the go ahead, and by the time you do, your original plans may be unrecognizable. You are probably looking to do something that is different, unusual, unique, novel, wild or high-tech, which excites you but unsettles others. You may have to compromise on sticking issues if you ever want to make a start.

Travel Plans Gone Awry

Travel plans could be affected, delayed, rescheduled, collapse or cancelled altogether when the Ace of Wands Reverses.  Flights may be cancelled or missed due to bad timing. Your choice of vacation destination may be disappointing. You might have booked something on impulse and now regret not doing the necessary research. Taking out travel and vacation insurance is advisable.  Also this Reversed card can suggest a lack of heat. If the sun is what you are after, weather may be unseasonable or disappointing.  Perhaps you are trying to avoid the sun altogether?  In this card we see the need for a break or vacation but not having the time to take one. You have a hectic schedule with many commitments and responsibilities. This leaves no free time for you to get away. You might feel you are running on empty right now, are stressed and close to burn out. Could you manage a couple of days even? The Reversed Ace of Wands may sometimes suggest the completion of travel, and having to return to normal life. You will have to store away your backpack for the next while.

Lack of Energy

The Reversed Ace of Wands often appears when we have been burning the candle at both ends. It brings exhaustion and listlessness, even chronic fatigue. This is generally as a result of feeling burned out after a period of extreme activity. Look back to the Ten of Wands and determine what it is that has wrecked you so. Exhaustion often waits for us to take our foot off the pedal before it hits in full force and then we do not identify it for what it is. How many of us are struck down with colds and flu as soon as we take a vacation?  We run on adrenaline before that and can go without sleep, rest, and even regular food. There may have been an intensely busy period; a project to finish, deadlines to meet, a house to pack, a young family to rear, relentless travel related to work or family, a break-up of a relationship, a bereavement, or having to care for others.  You may have retired recently and have been looking forward to doing all the things you haven’t had time for before, but now you wonder how you ever had the energy to go to work. You couldn’t fight your way out of paper bag at this moment in time.

All the above are typical hall marks of a Reversed Ace of Wands. The good news is it shouldn’t last long for it is just a temporary set-back. It is best to identify it for what it is and this might entail going with the flow. Rest and recuperate instead of trying to force business as normal. Listen to what your body is trying to tell you. You are exhausted for a reason and need rest. You will soon be able to start afresh. Nervous exhaustion is usually the trigger for physical exhaustion and is a sign that Fire has being dominating your life in an extreme manner. Your nerves might be frazzled and you could feel on edge but too shattered to do anything about it. It is not like you to get so low and this will likely make you feel frustrated and impatient with your current status. Your Ace of Wands lies smoldering in the dust and resists any attempts to bring it back to life. Let it be for the moment and it will soon bounce back to its normal lively self.

However, if tiredness and apathy continue, it could be a sign that you are run down nutritionally. You may need to address your diet, lifestyle or career to see what is bringing you down so low. You might have taken to the bed and forgotten to get back out of it. It might be time to shake yourself out of the doldrums and get active once more. Take it slowly at first and allow the spark to ignite at a controllable pace.

This Reversed Ace can also point to a deeper issue of anxiety that is experienced when you face new situations in life. The Ace of Wands brings positive energy, travel, action and change. However, if there is underlying anxiety issues, any Ace of Wands will be experienced as a Reversed Ace. It may be felt as fear, upheaval and too challenging. The excitement this Ace brings may be too much for an individual suffering with anxiety. Even a positive Ace of Wands could trigger chronic fatigue, panic attacks and insomnia. It is important to observe changes or reactions in your body at times when any of the Aces appear. You may need some help in this area.

When it comes to news The Reversed Ace of Wands may bring unwelcome news in relation to your situation or plans.

Procrastination

The Reversed Ace of Wands can suggest that you are putting things off or putting them on the long finger for a date or time somewhere off in the future. You certainly talk about your plans and dreams often enough, so much so that everyone around you knows them inside and out, but you haven’t gotten around to acting on them just yet. You may be waiting for just the right time and for everything to be in place. You may even be holding out for a guarantee that it will work out 100%. This unfortunately is not the way The Ace of Wands works. Whatever it is you keep putting off can only be activated by the Ace of Wands and this involves taking a chance or risk. You will not have all the answers at the beginning but it will have to do. It is a shame if you leave this Wand lying in a Reversed state as it does offer amazing potential.

Procrastination can also be an indication of feeling negative about your dream, ambition or goal. Somewhere along the way you have lost faith in it ever being possible to manifest. That might be because you failed to act or respond when the spark or flame burned brightly. You let it fizzle out instead. You don’t totally cast it aside but it no longer occupies your thoughts or plans. Perhaps it is because you have left it so long, that in some way you have begun to doubt yourself, your capabilities, or are convinced it would never have work out. You view the future in a pessimistic light and don’t hold out much hope for success. You have become a victim of self-sabotage with an attitude of ‘what’s the point in starting something that isn’t going to go anywhere?’ You might believe you lack the luck to succeed. The longer it goes on, the less enthusiasm you have for the project.

Lack of Inspiration

Feel creatively blocked? Find inspiration in nothing? Have you lost sight of your vision for the future? If so these are all signs of a Reversed Ace of Wands influencing your life. You are bound to be feeling very frustrated and probably in a bit of a panic as others may be expecting a lot of you at this time. Creative blocks and feeling uninspired are often a direct result of being under pressure to perform. Isn’t it odd how easy it comes to us in a natural way, when we are not forcing it? The more you obsess on overcoming these blocks, the more fixed they become. You just can’t get going with anything. You can get very angry with yourself and with those around you when your mind takes you to nothing but dead ends.  It is probably wise to take a break and step back from what you are doing as you might be too close to it and too intense. In fact take your mind off it completely and go do something else. Get as far away from it as possible and try to relax. You will find that the blocks will clear once the pressure is removed.

Also this Reversed Ace could suggest that your environment may be stifling your natural creativity and inspiration. If this is so, then you will need to access new places, new people and new experiences to enrich and enliven your senses.

Lack of Assertiveness

When the Ace of Wands Reverses we often find that we lack the ability to assert ourselves in important situations. We find it difficult to stand up for our rights and become overly dominated by the demands and expectations of others. We can be afraid to speak up or voice an unpopular opinion. Our Wand can get stamped on by others and the spark crushed out by those who seek to keep us down and under control. We can feel powerless to change or get out of our predicament or initiate change that would be of benefit to us.  We get used to put downs and others making decisions for us. Any ideas or ambition we have is met with cynicism and sneering.

Lack of assertiveness could also come down to waiting for another to implement change. You will readily go along with new plans but you rarely initiate them. They are always someone else’s idea and of course someone else’s fault if it all goes wrong. You might sit and whine about being bored or fed up waiting for change to come about as if it is the responsibility of another and not you.

Nothing Happening

The Reversed Ace of Wands can simply suggest that you are going through a dull and boring period in life. Nothing exciting ever seems to happen and life becomes dreary and predictable. The daily grind seems to go on forever and there might be nothing to look forward to, no light at the end of the tunnel, no events to get worked up about or exciting places to go. It certainly can mark a drab time. This could be a temporary phase and will soon right itself, but if not, then it is up to you to bring about the necessary changes.

RELATIONSHIPS

Slow starts, set-backs and obstacles for budding relationships are highlighted in the Reversed Ace. There is a lack of momentum when it should be firing on all cylinders at this stage. There may be too many external distractions which prevent development and growth. You might be too busy with work or have obligations elsewhere that make you reluctant to commit.

The Reversed Ace of Wands could be pointing out that your relationship has become dull, boring, predictable and habitual. It may be time to liven things up and create a spark.

The Slow Burn

The one you have set your heart on may need convincing of your genuine and sincere  interest in them when The Ace of Wands appears Reversed. You might be very far from their normal type and they may not be taking you seriously. This is especially true if you have a dodgy reputation in this area or are using reverse tactics to get their attention. You might be trying too hard to impress, acting out in front of them or coming on too strong. You need to turn down the volume as this could be a slow burn where love is concerned.

Then again, the volume might be too low for anyone to hear. You might be sitting back waiting for love to come knocking at your door or for the other person to make the first move. It might never happen if you are not prepared to take a chance. You might fear rejection, ridicule and humiliation. It happens to us all!

On a positive light, the Reversed Ace of Wands can simply suggest a temporary set-back in an otherwise great relationship. The transition from early to settled stage could be difficult. There may be starts and stops for a while until both sides feel certain of their ability to commit. It can be a confusing and upsetting time. Patience may be required. Look to surrounding cards to support this possible interpretation.

Reality Bites!

The fire and passion of the Upright Ace of Wands has begun to fizzle out. The early heady stage of passion and romance has passed. You will either accept this for what it is and move on to the next stage of the relationship, or move on altogether. It is not possible to sustain the energy of The Ace of Wands, when love sweeps us off our feet and we become wild with excitement and anticipation. That first kiss, the first time, can never be repeated and in time most relationships settle down into a calmer mode of operation. All the texting, late night phone calls and desperate need to spend every second together has to settle or we might find ourselves in a state of exhaustive collapse. Yes, we can look back with fondness and clasp our heart with the memory of it all, but there you have it, and what comes next?

When this Ace appears reversed in a relationship reading it is not usually welcomed. It is viewed as a sign that what started off with such promise, has not come about in the long run. It can indicate the relationship has no long-term future, or that for the moment, it has hit some issues. It is certainly not a decisive death knell, but it means someone has changed, has had a turnabout of feelings, is in two minds about continuing the relationship, or has decided it is not for them. The brakes have been applied or there is an obvious reining in of emotion and communication by one partner. Remember we always show our best side at the beginning of a relationship. We put on an act to impress, to woo, and to draw, but it is hard to keep up long-term. It is when the act is dropped and people start reverting to their normal self, not behaving the way they did at the beginning, that reality sets in.

All those little things about each other which seemed so endearing may now grate on our nerves, or we find areas of incompatibility we are not prepared to compromise on. A sudden shift in energy usually occurs on a particular meeting or date. Someone is not their normal self and seem unenthusiastic about being in their partner’s company. They don’t seem as light or engaging as usual and might even appear distracted or on edge. Generally in and around this time the constant phone calls and texting ease off and suddenly an arranged call is missed or forgotten. A date gets cancelled at the last moment, or worse still, someone fails to turn up. Something has changed, something is wrong but there is confusion as to what is happening. It is also around this time the first arguments and emotional outbursts occur. Defensive attitudes surface along with tears and accusations. This usually comes from one side, with the other remaining silent and distant throughout. The Reversed Ace of Wands is at work and it can bring one down to earth with such a hard smack. The fun and games are over, maybe for the moment, or maybe forever where this relationship is concerned.

So what has happened? Your relationship is over or it is the beginning of the end. Maybe it would be less painful for all if you were to admit it and get it over and done with. You no longer feel the same for each other. It was a great time and really gave you the lift you needed. You might even be able to stay friends. Time to move on.

Then again, you only ever saw it as a bit of a fling? You might have no intentions of moving into the next stage. You might have had a great time but certainly would not entertain thoughts of a long-term relationship coming out of it. Of course, it might have been a holiday romance which typically is action packed but short-lived.

Commitment Issues

The Reversed Ace of Wands can also suggest a reluctance to get involved, commit, or take a relationship to the next stage.  You may be guilty of deliberately letting relationships drop before they get too serious. You might have a habit of bailing out at the first sign of neediness.

Of course there is also an issue if you are trying to start a new relationship before finishing another. You might need to cut the ties with a previous relationship before proceeding with a new one. Someone may not be as available as they make out to be.

Too Hot To Handle – Trouble

Depending on surrounding cards, the Reversed Ace of Wands might highlight a personality who is into one-night stands. There is a lack of enthusiasm in pursuing anything further in the relationship. This card can highlight an over-inflated ego with a cocky attitude towards a partner and relationships in general. This Reversed Wand could be carving out notches on the bedpost. Being stood-up falls into the territory of the Reversed Ace of Wands.

Fertility Issues and Sexual Dysfunction

As this card is a phallic symbol, when reversed, impotency problems may be suggested which could cause problems within a relationship. Unless intimate issues are discussed and communicated within the relationship it can lead to gross misunderstanding and emotional distancing. This Reversed Ace could also suggest sexual incompatibility or not being sexually drawn to your partner. If you are asking about the potential of a successful match with a certain person, then this card may be breaking the news that they do not see you in that light. Being sexually dull and un-adventurous is highlighted in this card.  Faking orgasm or the inability to achieve one is also a possibility.

There could be fertility issues or trouble with a birth or conception.  Again, you will need to look to surrounding cards for confirmation. The Reversed Ace of Wands could hint at one partner not wanting to have children. It could also suggest a mutual decision to choose personal freedom over starting a family. Be sure to clear up any misunderstanding here. Because this is an Ace, it means that attitudes could, and possibly will, change in the future. Life is unformed yet, so the outcome is not decided. It is still in the early stages. Plenty of time to change one’s mind in the future.

Traditionally this card suggested illegitimacy!

CAREER AND BUSINESS

When the Reversed Ace of Wands appears in a career related spread there may be disappointing news regarding a job interview you had hoped to ace. This is usually a result of plenty of competition for the position. You may have under-prepared, sold yourself short or perhaps oversold your capabilities. This Reversed Ace can suggest you are not up for the job or have not got what it takes to fulfill the job spec. On the other hand, you may lack enthusiasm for the position, company or industry. It may simply be a means to earning a living. One way or another, you may be experiencing delays and setbacks in moving on to a new job or position.

Poor CV

When job hunting this Reversed Ace may highlight the need to update your CV as it is probably out-of-date and is not formatted in a current trend. Your personality profile could do with a new lease of life to jazz it up. It needs to stand out from the crowd and not disappear beneath a landfill of banality and ordinariness. Remember there is more competition today then ever before. Then again, your CV could be littered with clichés and overly heavy on buzz words. It might also bear all the hall marks of a computer generated version. You need to come across as assertive – but not cocky, original and unique – but not wild. The same applies for interviews. Play up you talents, strengths and skills but avoid bragging and boasting as this can put interviewers off. Dress appropriately for the job you are after.

Rejection and Objection

This Reversed Ace does not augur well for any plans, proposals or tenders you may have submitted. There is a good chance they will be rejected or turned down as we get the ‘Thumbs Down’ or ‘Red Light’.  This does not necessarily mean the end, but to secure the approval of others, you may have to make some adjustments or amendments that go against the grain with you. It is doubtful you will get your way, what you are looking for or what you want in this matter but maybe you can find another way. This might entail having to go back to the drawing board for a major overhaul or to start afresh.  You may be fired up with enthusiasm for your ideas and plans, but your superiors might not share your vision. You might be trying to sell new ideas, new technology,  new methods or new products to a company that is stuck in the past, traditional, conventional and conservative in their approach to business. There will be endless paperwork involved. The wheels could turn very slow as unnecessary red-tape and snail-like protocol takes forever to wade through.  There is likely to be several objections which leave you feeling frustrated, irritable and impatient. Keep a tight hold of your temper as you do not want to alienate anyone at this stage.

If gearing up to do an important business presentation, your audience may not receive it very well. Go back over it to see if there are areas that could be improved. Also check, and double-check any equipment involved to avoid technical hitches on the day which could ruin any wonderful attempts of dynamic PowerPoint Displays.

Boring Work Environment

Work has become dull,  monotonous and boring when this Reversed Ace appears.  There is an air of lethargy and disinterest in the workplace with staff doing the bare minimum.  There is a lack of motivation and no one seems to give a damn anymore.  Someone or something is needed to inject a new lease of life into the workforce. Any ideas? It might be time to start looking for a new job or how about starting your own business?

Working in a restricting environment can be suggested in The Reversed Ace. You may have accepted a job that binds to you a certain location with little room for flexibility or freedom. You might find yourself stuck in a basement office with no natural light, doing the same tedious tasks over and over again as the day drags out before you. You could find your job boring and uninspiring. You are bound to be feeling fatigued and apathetic about your future prospects. It might be time to look for a new position that gets you out and about instead of being stuck in the office all day, every day.

Lost Your Mojo

However, it may be you who is lacking in motivation and the energy to tackle the demands of a project or job.  This Reversed Ace can point to a lack of interest and initiative in the workplace. It can suggest you are not the brightest spark right now and those around you may not be too impressed by your half-hearted efforts. You have nothing to offer at brainstorming sessions and can’t come up with any ideas or interesting theories. Your work is lack-lustre and uninspiring.  It is time to give yourself a good shake up and find your mojo again. This might signal a time when you need to take a break or vacation. Creatively you are running on empty and need to refuel. Maybe you need some new energy or new experiences to relight your fire.  Once you start showing enthusiasm, it will become infectious and the whole work environment will change for the better. If that doesn’t work, you might need to rethink your position or career.

Burn Out

Whereas the Upright Ace of Wands delivers a boost of energy and the launch of activity, the Reversed Ace can have the opposite effect. With so much to do, places to be, people to see and deadlines to meet exhaustion can set in very easily. You might have been running on adrenaline in work for some time and have coped well up until now. You were able to arrive early and stay late. You even managed to take work home at the weekend and successfully juggled it with family life and domestic duties. Perhaps you kept up with your social diary too. Now you find it hard to get out of the bed no matter how much sleep you have had. You stare into your computer screen and type with fingers that feel weighed down by lead. Your concentration is poor and your daily ‘to do list’ gets continuously carried forward. Your in-tray is overflowing and the Pending one fit to burst. You fail to meet targets and deadlines, neglect to return important calls and follow-up on email enquiries. You can’t quite shake off the flu you caught two months ago and feel a total mess. You wonder what the hell is going on?

This is the result of allowing too much fire take control your life. There is a good chance you have over-stretched yourself by taking on too many work commitments to the extent it has begun to effect your whole life. You have probably being running at a gallop for some time and thought you would continue to do so. Not possible I am afraid! Even the most determined, the most energetic and the fittest among us will eventually succumb to exhaustion and burn out if we do not place and enforce boundaries in our work life. There has to be a distinct line drawn between work and home. There is a time to work and a time to rest. You have not been pacing your energy output in an efficient manner and hence it has run out on you. It probably took some time for you to arrive at this state and it might take some time to recover from it too. You will need to rest and delegate your work duties to others for the time being. Don’t start any new projects under this energy as you do not have the stamina to complete them right now. Don’t worry, you will bounce back from this once you allow your energy to recover.

Unsuccessful Launch

If desperate to become an entrepreneur and want to launch your business or product, the Reversed Ace of Wands can suggest bad luck on this occasion. However, a Reversed Ace of Wands has a great reputation for bouncing back after defeat. Never say never and never give up trying. If at first you don’t succeed, don’t give up, become even hungrier for success, and keep on trying. If you continuously are on the receiving end of bad luck, you may need to step back and observe your approach. Are you being too forceful, too aggressive, too impatient, too impulsive or reckless, too cocky or arrogant? You might need to stop what you are doing and find another way forward. Become aware of the actions that are creating the unwelcome consequences. The thing is not to give up on success. Most successful entrepreneurs have at least one previous failure behind them and some have several. Fortunes can be made and lost several times over in a lifetime. Whereas this would scare many of us off from trying again, entrepreneurs take it in their stride and move on. Learn from your mistakes and apparent failures. Never lose sight of your dream. Keeping in the Spirit of the Wands Fire Element, consider it a harsh learning curve; take it on board and move on.

The Reversed Ace of Wands can suggest that you have unfinished business in connection with your job or career. Resolve whatever it is that is holding you back before you can turn your attention to any new ambitions.

Getting Badly Burned in Business

Depending on surrounding cards this Reversed Ace of Wands could suggest getting badly burned in business. You may have invested everything you had in what was viewed as a golden opportunity, only to lose it all. This could come down to poor research or management on your part, or you could have been lured into a ‘get rich quick scam’. Too quick to part with your money, you may have fallen for a convincing sales pitch, eager and ready to believe in what you were told and shown. You got caught up in the circus that was going on around you, put your trust in others and didn’t keep your eye on the ball. You may be left holding the responsibility after a business partner or colleague bales out.  Your experience is likely to have left you deflated and wary of starting anything new.

**It will be interesting to find out if the Fire is still burning brightly when we next visit the Wands in Card 2.

[jaxcynsfanland]

Gawd Nightlight! Spend all this time flitting through my head wearing black and then change it up last minute as I'm coloring you and insist on soft blues?! Da Faq Boy?! Welp, here's to another simple picture I done did doodled. I feel like I'm doing a good job remembering how to work GIMP and even teaching myself new things, like how to get clean lines when the scanner screws them all up! 8D As I've said before, my inner child ("Tripp" as she's commonly referred to amongst the Muses and myself) has adopted Pitch as her resident father figure. When Nightlight realized this he sorta flipped a switch and went into overprotective!Guardian mode. Thing is, Nightlight in my head is a wee bit of a derp; not really sure how that happened exactly, he's just got this derpy way of talking and acting and going about his business, and I *love* it in him so much I can't bear even the thought of him changing to be any other way. Anyway, when he goes all protective Guardian mode, his sole objective was to get Tripp to safety, he just sorta tunnel-visioned on that specific goal. Now, the *common sense* thing to do would be to take the child away from the potential danger and explain to the child that the danger is not to be approached or handled in any way. Does Nightlight do this? Nope. Did Pitch *beg* him to do this? You bet your sweet ass he did. What Nightlight logic-ed in his head was, "if Nightlight is around, the bad man cannot hurt the child for Nightlights protect children, so Nightlight will stay with the child and keep the child safe from the bad man." I guess there *was* some semblance of madness in his method on account that Tripp had already bonded herself to Pitch and was dead set on keeping him in her life, ya know, despite how many times Pitch tried to pry himself free or scare her off and NOTHING seemed to work....Anyway, the trio have been nearly inseparable ever since. At first this set up had Pitch looking like the grumpiest black cat hiding under a bed you could ever hope to see. You know, the kind that swats at the child and when it realizes that's not going to work, tries to make a break for it? Only now the child has it's tail and so it digs it's claws into the carpet for dear life? But, oh, no such luck! And then the look of sheer soullessness as it's finally wrest free of the floor and squished in this totally unwanted hug of complete admiration? You know the look on a cat's face when they go through all that and they're just *begging* you to shoot them so they don't have to put up with that? Yeah, that was Pitch for a while. And I loved watching every minute of it. XD Eventually Pitch stopped swatting at my inner child. Eventually he stopped resisting her in everything altogether. Now he just accepts it and goes along with whatever demand parenting hurls his way, and he's getting pretty damn good at it too. The other Guardians are still weary and don't especially like that my inner child favors Pitch over them (I think Bunny even started crying when she rejected his offer to live in the Warren), but they've also realized that Pitch is now virtually incapable of hurting her and they have nothing to fear. Except those times when taking care of an insane 7 year old and a more childish Guardian cause Pitch to lapse into a moment of insanity himself and pop into their homes wearing silly hats and laughing psychotically as he sits in their fridge and smears mayonnaise over his face.....yeah, I don't understand why either, it's just what Nick told me happened. Not exactly what he wanted to find at 3 in the morning when he was looking for cookies to snack on....but I digress. Can I just say though that I love the way my Muses always pull themselves into these cute makeshift families? Because I do. I really, really do. :3 https://www.deviantart.com/kokusfanland

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

No Rest for the Wicked- HardDom!Dabi X Fem! Brat Reader

Prompt: Dabi just wants to take a nap but everything goes wrong

I asked a friend in one of my discord groups for a random writing prompt when I was up late. Something about this one activated my inner ✨brat✨

Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.3k

Kinks/Warnings: brat taming, degradation, pain play, spanking, belting, mild dacryphilia, bondage, edging and denial, hints of dubcon

Banner made by the always lovely @ladyshinigami!

••••••••••••••

Exhausted.

That was the best way to sum up Dabi’s mood as he trudged through the bar fronting the League’s headquarters. Shigaraki had sent him out on a mission with orders to “stake out and take out” a small band of up-and-coming heroes. It had been easy enough to find them (newbies can never resist being flashy), but making sure they were all disposed of was another matter. A matter only made more complicated by a few rogue civilians that happened to spot him. It had taken him two full days to track everyone down, leaving him covered in blood, soot, and burns. In short, Dabi needed a break.

“Well, well, well.” Came the nasally voice of their fearless leader, “The prodigal son returns! Took you long enough, Dabi. Hope that means you didn’t fuck up the mission.”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Dabi snaps back, too tired and sore to care about his tone. Not that he’d be any kinder to Shigaraki if he wasn’t. “I did what you asked and left no witnesses. Now piss off before I turn you into a smoldering pile.”

Shigaraki didn’t rise to Dabi’s bait, opting to simply flip him the bird before going back to whatever game console he was currently obsessed with. Dabi returns the gesture in kind, glowering as he disappears behind the bar and into the League’s living quarters. Their warehouse provides more than enough space for everyone to have their own room, and the boss even allowed them to decorate and furnish them as they pleased. Wasn’t that generous? Dabi plods down the hallway to his assigned room and kicks open the door only to find it was occupied. By you.

“Dabi?” You question for a moment before your eyes light up with excitement. “Dabi! You’re back!”

As a fellow Stain devotee, you’d sought out the LOV and been initiated as a member a mere six months ago. And two months later, you’d been initiated into Dabi’s bed. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves “lovers.” Love was few and far between in a hornet’s nest of villains. But you’d certainly become something more than the occasional lay.

He grunts as he stalks into the room, shedding his coat and boots as he went. Dabi was never big on grand displays of affection. And in his current state, that small show of acknowledgment may as well have been equivalent to a bear hug.

“I missed you.” You chirp back, undeterred by his gruff response. “How was the mission?”

“Long and shitty.” Came his terse reply as he strips off the rest of his clothes and grabs a towel from a nearby wall hook. “I need a fucking shower.”

He wraps the towel around his waist before he sets about searching for body wash and a first aid kit. Greedy eyes roam the plane of his toned torso, eager to touch the scarred and stapled flesh you’d spent many a night mapping out. Before joining the League, you’d never had an opinion one way or the other on touch or physical intimacy. You didn’t dislike it by any means; it was just something people did, fuck buddies or otherwise. But now that you’d shared a bed with Dabi, your perspective had changed. His rough touch was your drug of choice, intoxicating in all the best ways. And with him being gone for almost 72 hours? It was safe to say you were jonesing for a hit.

“Oooh, sounds like fun.” You purr, sprawling out on the mattress in a catlike stretch. “Want me to join you? I think we could use a little… quality time together.”

He snorts derisively at that, straightening up once he’d found his supplies and fixing you with a deep scowl. So pretty even when he’s pissed. You bat your eyelashes in return.

“Don’t get cute, dollface. Once I get cleaned up I’m passing out for the next century.”

Before you can shoot off another coquettish remark, he turns on his heel and marches out the door in the direction of the communal showers. You huff and clamber out of bed to follow him, determined that he wouldn’t get away so easily.

“C’mon Dabi!” You whine, trotting along behind him as he stalks down the hallway. “I haven’t seen you in days! Are you really just gonna give me the cold shoulder?”

“Yup.” He snaps back, shooting you a harsh glare over said shoulder before barging through the bathroom door. From the other side you can hear his bark of “Move it, psycho!” followed by an indignant squeak from whom you can only assume to be Toga. You huff and stamp your foot like a petulant child, turning on your heel to flounce off in the direction of the League’s bar front.

“Bastard.” You seethe under your breath, “Who does he think he is, ignoring me like that? It’s his fault I’m so pent up. If I tried ignoring him when he was all hot and bothered–!”

You pause for a moment as a lightbulb goes off in your head. A single impish thought flashes through your mind and it causes your lips to curl into a Cheshire grin. He wants to play games? You’ll give him games.

You continue your trek into the dimly-lit, woodpandeled speakeasy, a renewed vigor in your stride as you make a beeline for the bar top. Kurogiri is standing behind it as per usual, wiping out a pint glass like the faithful bartender he pretends to be. You sidle up to the bar and place both hands on the oaken surface, adopting a sweet, too-innocent lilt to your voice.

“Kuro-baby.” You purr, the cutesy pet name causing the misty specter to look up from his task. “Can I have a glass of water, please? With lots of ice, if you don’t mind.”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri sets down the glass and picks up a shorter one, using it to scoop up a generous portion of ice from the freezer below before filling it nearly to the brim from the tap. If he has any suspicion of you, he’s very good at hiding it. The same can’t be said for Shigaraki, sitting a few stools down from you and still tapping away at the buttons of his console.

“Fucking with Staples again?” He questions disinterestedly, followed by a hiss of annoyance when the game lets out a series of gunshots. He must have gotten himself killed again.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You shoot back airily, swiping the glass from Kurogiri’s outstretched hand and hopping off your own barstool.

“It’s your funeral!” He calls after you, waving you off with one hand. You snicker as you march back into the living quarters, one hand wrapped around the chilled glass and the other flattened over the top to ensure you won’t spill a drop along the way. Soon you find yourself back in front of the bathroom door and, suppressing the urge to giggle, you slowly push through it and into the steamy room beyond. In spite of the hideout’s outward appearance, the place is surprisingly clean and well-kempt (all thanks to den mother Kurogiri). Two sinks stand against the left-hand side of the wall, with two doors opposite them leading to the toilets. Next to the sinks are the showers: three open-faced, tile cubes barely covered by flimsy plastic curtains. Toga is standing in front of the nearest sink, wearing a skimpy pair of Hello Kitty pajamas and washing the blood and goop from her latest transformation out of her navy, pleated skirt. She looks up at you when you enter and you quickly put one finger to your lips, smirking as you point between the glass and the running shower beyond. Toga lets loose a sadistic giggle of her own before hastily shushing herself when you hear Dabi’s bark of “Pipe down out there!”

As you move past her, you can see her mouth the words, “You’re so dead, big sis.”

You can feel a jolt of adrenaline course through your veins as you sneak up to the edge of the tiled wall separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom, the glass in your hand shaking briefly. A small amount of water sloshes over the rim and spatters onto the floor, the sound barely overshadowed by the shower.

“Doll?”

His low, rumbling voice coming from the other side of the curtain sends another shiver down your spine.

“What are you up to out there?” He growls dangerously, as if he has a sixth sense when it comes to you and your shenanigans. For just a moment, the rational part of your brain takes over and makes you question your actions. Dabi’s already in a foul mood, and getting worse by the second by the sound of it. Maybe if you hold off and behave like a good girl–

Your body seems to move of its own accord. The next thing you know, the contents of the glass are sailing through the air, arching high over the plastic curtain rod and landing with a messy splat onto your unwitting victim on the other side.

“What the fu–!” Dabi’s curse is cut off by yours and Toga’s mad giggling as you sprint out of the bathroom and down the hallway. Passing by a very confused-looking Spinner, you dart inside Dabi’s room and slam the door, locking it for good measure. Seconds later, he’s pounding on it, using enough force that you’re convinced it might splinter and break off its hinges.

“Open this door right now and make this easier on yourself!” He roars, furiously jiggling the handle.

You let him pound away for a few more seconds, in part to allow yourself time to catch your breath but mostly to delay the unenviable punishment. With a deep, steadying breath, you plaster on a mildly amused expression, undo the lock, and pull open the door. Dabi is visibly seething, water dripping from his hair and cascading in rivulets down his toned chest onto the towel slung low on his hips. His brows are knitted together in rage, turquoise eyes flashing dangerously while one hand is still raised in a fist.

“Oh hey, babe. Done with the shower al–?”

His hands are around your throat before you can blink, your sassy remark devolving into a high-pitched squeak.

“You little bitch.” He spits at you, forcibly backing you further into the room as he advances. “Was that your idea of a joke?”

“N-no.” You gasp in response, voice slightly raspy from the pressure on your jugular. “I just thought–“

“Thought what exactly?” Dabi growls, kicking the door shut behind him with one foot before giving your shoulders a hard shove and pushing you onto the bed. You land with a slight bounce, the momentum giving you just enough time to prop yourself up on your elbows.

“Well?” He hisses, venom dripping from the word as he glares down at you.

“I was worried.” You start slowly, tone almost loving as you gaze up at him with big, doe eyes. “You seemed so tense when you got back. And don’t think I didn’t notice those new burns on your arms. So I thought, since the mission was so hard on you…”

Your face suddenly splits into a shit-eating grin.

“I thought you might need to cool down for a minute.”

Dabi blinks for a second, seemingly struck dumb by your remark. And then his hands are back on you in an instant, roughly flipping you over to lie chest-down with your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Of all the stupid–“

Your shirt is ripped over your head from behind.

“Immature–“

There goes the bra, clasps and straps lost to a wildfire of blue flames as it falls away from your body in a charred heap.

“Bratty little schemes.”

Your leggings and panties are harshly yanked down, slipped off, and discarded into some unknown corner of the room. You feel cool air hit your legs and backside, moments before a harsh slap lands on your right cheek. With a yelp, you cast a wide-eyed glance over your shoulder at the menacing presence behind you; a pillar of rage and sadistic urges looming over your naked form.

“You wanted my attention that badly, dollface? Well I’m sorry to say you’ve got it now.”

Before you can react beyond a pained, needy whimper, Dabi hooks his right arm under your thighs to haul you up and onto the bed. He lays his full weight across your back and reaches around and underneath the farthest edge of the bed to produce a simple, black cuff, attached to the nylon spreader running along the underside of the mattress. Giving it a few cursory tugs, he grabs ahold of your right wrist and yanks it towards the corresponding corner, attaching the device with practiced speed and precision. You continue to writhe and pant below him, muttering a litany of curses and “no’s” as he does the same to the opposite side. You’re now bound by both wrists, unable to do more than thrash wildly on the mattress in a humiliating, spread eagle position.

“Seems like you need a reminder of who’s in charge around here.” He snarls in your ear, pushing himself off of you and marching over to his discarded pile of clothing. You can hear the soft rustle of fabric, followed by the telltale clink of metal on metal that makes your eyes go wide.

“Y-you wouldn’t dare…” You start breathlessly, just before the first blinding sting of leather greets your exposed skin, right at the juncture where the soft swell of your ass meets the tender flesh of your thighs.

“That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart.” Dabi says mockingly, his tone dripping with false pity and saccharine sweetness as he takes his place at the edge of the bed once more. “I don’t have any problems dealing with a mouthy… little… brat like you.”

His words are punctuated by three more vicious blows, this time striking the meatiest part of your ass and sending the pliant flesh jiggling. The metal rivets in his belt only add to the pain, biting into your rapidly heating flesh and causing tears to prick at the corners of your eyes. Shifting your hips in a futile attempt to get away from Dabi and his newfound torture device, you roll partly onto your side and look over at him with watery, pleading eyes.

“S-sir… Dabi, please!” You sputter out, voice already wavering as your resolve crumbles beneath the stinging sensation. But Dabi’s not in the mood for bargaining. Instead, he growls as he wraps an arm around your waist and shoves his left knee underneath your belly, hiking your ass further into the air.

“Hold still!” He barks at you, another crack of his belt sending a fresh wave of searing pain along your already raw skin. You scream in agony, unable to do more than wriggle and squirm against his hold.

“Start counting, brat.” He demands huskily, your only warning before the next punishing spank meets your burning flesh.

“One!” You gasp out, “I’m sorry! Please–!”

Another blow lands, somehow harder than all the others, revisiting the spot where ass and thigh meet and causing you to wail in pain.

“Too late for apologies, dollface. The only thing I wanna hear from that slutty little mouth is counting. Understand me?”

The arm looped around your waist tightens in warning, and you hiccup before sputtering out a shaky, “T-two.”

“That’s more like it.”

He continues spanking you at a steady pace, the only respite coming when he pauses to hear you choke out the next number. By ten strokes, you’re bawling. By fifteen, you’re practically brain dead, unable to quell the sobs that wrack through your body or think beyond the next count. He mercifully stops at twenty, dropping the belt and loosening his own grip on you. All you can focus on is the burning pain radiating out from your tanned backside, sobbing as you bury your face into the pillow below you for comfort. Dabi’s own breathing is heavy and ragged, and he takes a few deep, measured breaths to steady himself. After a few moments, that hand that once held his belt is carefully laid on the curve of your ass, and you gasp both at the gentle touch and the shock of prickly pain it brings. Judging by the way he strokes the heated flesh, you’re sure the silver eyelets have left a series of bruises behind.

“S-s-sir.” You blubber, “I’m... I…”

“Shhhh, quiet down.” He says softly, voice uncharacteristically tender as he runs his hand along the width of your heated cheeks. “It’s over now. You did so well.”

The unexpected praise makes you whimper beneath his affections, devolving into a quiet moan as his hand travels even lower, fingers coming to rest at the entrance to your heated core. He begins to gently massage at your folds, middle finger slipping inside to find you impossibly wet and clenching around the digit.

“You filthy little thing…” He breathes out on a chuckle, “Are you really that turned on by me beating the hell out of your cute little ass?”

His finger delves deeper, pussy eagerly sucking him in as you keen below him. His free hand begins to lightly scratch up and down your back, goosebumps rising in the wake of each careful caress. Without thinking, you shift further onto your knees, fighting through the pain to push against his hand.

“Please, Sir.” You moan wantonly, “More. Please.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi slips a second finger inside of you and begins to languidly pump them in and out. Pain and pleasure meld together in a sinful symphony, pants and whimpers coming from you as you rock your abused body against his own scarred flesh. He adjusts the angle and crooks his fingers downwards, curling them just shy of that sensitive bundle of nerves you know would have you seeing stars. Your back arches as you hungrily push against him, dignity forgotten in the face of pure, carnal desire.

“Getting impatient, are we?” He growls teasingly, fingers suddenly slipping out from your sopping core and wrenching a high-pitched whine from the back of your throat. He moves off the bed entirely, ordering you to stay put as he walks over to the nearby dresser and opens up the top drawer. Like the cuffs would allow you to do anything otherwise.

“Ah, here we go.” He says after a few seconds of rummaging, striding back over to the bed and taking up residence behind you. You feel the mattress dip under his weight seconds before his hands find your hips, roughly hauling them upwards and forcing your face further into the pillows. You shriek as he grabs ahold of your left cheek and squeezes harshly, pain shooting up your spine like a bolt of summer lightning. Something hard and cool prods at your quivering entrance, briefly brushing against your clit before being plunged inside of you. The sudden stretch feels at once too much and deeply satiating, sending burning, pleasurable heat licking across your oversensitized nerves. Once the toy is sunk to the hilt, Dabi gives a short grunt of satisfaction before sliding off the bed and circling around to lean over your quivering form. You turn your head to face him and he smirks at the sight of your fucked out expression: eyes red and puffy, cheeks streaked with half-dried tears, lips swollen from the bluntness of your own teeth.

“Aren’t you a sight?” He hums lowly, brushing away an errant strand of hair to plant a condescending kiss to your temple. “Such a needy little slut for me.”

With another dark chuckle, Dabi pats your cheek, straightens up, and turns towards the door.

“Wait!” You squeak out, squirming against your restraints as you watch his retreating back. “You’re just gonna leave me like this?”

“That’s the plan, dollface.” He shoots back, casting you a wicked grin over his left shoulder as he pulls the door open. “At least until I finish my shower.”

[cherienymphe]

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

~

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @hurricanerin​

[darkesthourrpg]

BASKETS FOR A CAUSE

THE TWO OF CUPS. The card that represents that of joyful connection and cooperation. And what a fitting card it is for this spring charity auction where supernaturals far and wide are coming together to meet new people, create new friendships and give back to a great cause.

Spring is in the air and supernaturals across the city are gathering together in Central Park, which has been closed off for a private event where spring activities will be hosted throughout the park and baskets will be auctioned off to the highest bidder. The NYC coven has casted a non-audiunt spell across the park soundproofing the event from humans potentially passing by, a handful of seraphs have volunteered to act as security (although it is completely optional for seraphs to volunteer or just enjoy the event as any other guest may), and all of the proceeds raised throughout the day will go towards the NYC hospitals specializing in supernatural care and blood banks around the city. So get those baskets ready and those daylight rings on to enjoy a fun and festive day out in the sun.

REMINDERS

In game, this event will take place over Saturday, May 8th. Feel free to post starters and threads now reacting to any of the below activities. While OOC, the list of baskets will be posted later today on the 7th. 

For the Basket Bidding, if your character’s basket was selected for the auction, that specific character will not be allowed to bid on any other basket seeing that they will already be participating themselves (we will be reaching out later today to let everyone who submitted baskets know which characters of theirs were selected/will be out of the bidding wars).

If your character did not submit a basket, it will be your turn to bid. You will send in your bids via messages or asks to the main with the number of the basket your character is bidding on and the amount they are bidding on (more details to come later today). These bids are meant to be anonymous so please make sure you are sending the bids to the main and not posting them in the discord chat or in the notes of any of these event posts.

Bids will be updated in real time (aka whenever an admin is on), so make sure to keep your eyes on the main!

Once the bidding has been closed, it will be revealed who has won which baskets. Once there is a winner of each basket, the identities of the bidders and the bids will be revealed. The event at that point will be over and you and the other player can plot together to decide when to cash in on these outings. 

This event is a fun way to get everyone interacting, so we hope you enjoy it and in the meantime, before the baskets are posted, have your characters interact to any of the below-

ACTIVITIES

The Main Event: The Basket Auction (stay tuned)

Central Park Zoo: Experience wildlife in the heart of Manhattan. Central Park Zoo is home to some of the city’s most unique views. Stop by for the chance to spot snow leopard, take in a sea lion show, or find your inner child at the Petting Zoo area.

Carousel: Claim a seat on Central Park’s famous carousel.

Row Boats: Take a boat out onto the lake or embark on a gondola ride or paddle to your heart’s content on a raft that looks oddly like a swan

Movies on the Green: Bring your own blankets or borrow one of the many being handed out to attendees as you snuggle up on the green with popcorn and watch a number of classic movies.

Concert Stage: Join the West Side Theatre as they put on a production over at Central Park’s concert stage.

Karaoke: Brought to you by On Pitch, visit the Karaoke Booth to belt out one of your favorite tunes

Paws and Claws Pet Adoption & Play Pen: Swing by the Paws and Claws booth to play with adorable critters from puppies to kittens to bunnies, you can bring home your very own furever friend. 

Roller Rink: Brought to you by Roller Rocket, strap on a pair of roller skates and roller around the make-shift rink to 70s hits or take your skates on the go as you venture around the rest of the park.

The Fountain: Make a wish at the famous fountain. Although the fountain and coins aren’t magical, you never know if luck may be on your side. Just be careful not to fall in.

Blank Slate Caricatures: Get your painting done or a caricature of you and a friend, brought to you by Blank Slate.

Book Swap: Head over to the New Leaf Books booth to swap a book with that of another attendee or if socializing with one another isn’t your thing, you can always just buy a new book for sale to keep you company.

Fortune Telling: Get your palm read or fortune told at the Good Omens Booth.

Free Flowers Per Your Mood: Brought to you by Fantasy Gardens, the local dryads will craft and be handing out the flower or plant that best represents you or your mood

The MET: If the sun is getting to be too much, head inside the Metropolitan Museum of Art for some shade and refreshments as you take in the art around you and the current fashion exhibits.

Carriage & Bike Rides: If you want to go on a leisurely ride, you can always take one of the many bikes around the park or you can climb into one of many horse drawn carriages and be pulled around.

BOOTHS

Coffee Cart: Get your coffee or blood if you’re a vampire fix at the Coffee Cart brought to you by the Caffeine Crypt.

Rose-Tinted Champagne: For the adults in attendance, make your way over to the Rose-Tinted Booth which will act over the course of the event as an open bar. They will even be handing out flutes of champagne for those who want to sprawl out across a picnic blanket and relax.

Sucré Pastry Booth: For your pastry fix, visit the booth hosted by the patisserie Sucré.

Art in Motion: If you love art, Art in Motion is the booth for you with local artists selling their paintings and beaded jewelry with all proceeds going towards the event’s cause.

Vintage Things: Like Art in Motion, the Vintage Things Booth will be selling antiques for the cause.

Heroes & Comics: Check out the limited edition comics and comic book stand

Happy Scoop: What outing would be complete without a scoop of delicious ice cream? Vegan and Dairy free options available for your dietary needs.

Broken Records: For the music lovers out there, head to the Broken Records booth to listen to some good music and invest in some records of your choosing

Food Trucks: Another of other food trucks are scattered around the park from the iconic New York Hot Dog Stands to Shawarma and Gyro booths.

[sugamoonv]

I’ll Still Stay

Hello! Can I please request a Poly!Mate Hybrid!BTS OT7 x Mate human!female reader imagine where she goes to the shelter, planning on adopting one hybrid, but then when she sees how badly  the poor hybrids are treating, she ends up bringing home 7 hybrids (BTS). BTS are all each other’s mate and see that she’s there mate too. She takes care of them and they take care of her, lots of love to go around! All 8 fall in love! They are all very protective of her + hugs + kisses + cuddles and love.💜🤟  

Pairings: Hybrid!BTS x Reader/ OT7 x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Preface: Wolf Hybrid!Namjoon / Rottweiler Hybrid!Jimin / Siamese Hybrid!Yoongi / Golden Retriever Hybrid!Taehyung / Bear Hybrid!Jin / Bunny Hybrid!Jungkook / Red Fox Hybrid!Hoseok

A.N: I know this took a while, so I hope it’s good. I may have turned this request into a gateway for a series/multipart because I love poly hybrid fics. So yeah- here’s the first installment.

Masterlist > Next

“I’m going to adopt a hybrid.”

Your friend's eyes widen and they scramble as they get out of their chair to follow you.

“Wait, what? Now?!”

“Yeah. Why Not?” you look at Hoshi with innocent eyes as you grab your jacket from the hanger rack in the entrance of the office you work in. Small conversations and the clicking of keyboards play over yours’ and Hoshi’s conversation.

“Because we’re still at work? And you literally just decided you wanted a hybrid. Are you even ready for one?”

The company you worked for paid its employees well, especially those that specialized in specific sectors. You and Hoshi worked in public relations and as younger employees, you were in charge of helping create ads that appealed to your age group. It was a difficult company to get hired into and was still competitive while working, but was one of the most lucrative jobs available where you lived, and because of this, that meant that most of the people here had lots of disposable money. A majority of them eventually decided their extra money would be best going to getting a hybrid and now you were joining the ranks.

“Chill. I haven’t used any sick days in months, so I doubt they’re really going to get mad if I leave early today,” you negate as you shrug on your jacket. “Vernon told me about this really nice adoption center he got Dino at and he said that lately, they’ve been getting a lot of hybrids. So I figured I might as well go now.”

Hoshi sucks in air between his teeth. “Fine, but if you get in trouble with Mark, that’s on you-”

“Obviously.”

Hoshi’s eyebrows straighten as he tilts his head and gives you a deadpan look. “IF you really are serious about this, there’s a couple of non-profit shelters that you can go to too. And I’ve been hearing that a lot of people are putting their hybrids up for adoption to get new ones. Go to one of the shelters and save money by adopting a hybrid. It’s going to be better considering you’ve never had a hybrid before and the hybrids at the shelters won’t need as much adjusting to having an owner.”

It was true. The adoption centers that typically ran for profit offered hybrids that were fresh out of training school and had never had an owner before. There were even a few places that had hybrids under 18 for adoption for those that weren’t able to conceive and wanted to raise a child.

You nod, “Gotcha,’”.

You beam at Hoshi, “Next time you see me, I’m going to be a hybrid owner.”

“I’m already praying for the hybrid.”

You slightly glance at the GPS mounted to the dashboard of your car as it gives you the next direction. You still had put in the address from the place Vernon recommended but as you pulled up to the red light, Hoshi’s advice mulled about in your head. You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel before curling them around the wheel and squeezing. You stared at the GPS screen, gnawing on your bottom lip.

You jump as the person behind you lays on their horn, tearing you away from your inner thoughts. The light has turned green and the lane beside you has already cleared so you press on the gas. There’s a small gas station that you pull into. You ignore your GPS repeatedly telling you to make a U-turn as you search for the nearest adoption center and upon finding one, you input the new address into the GPS and begin driving again.

From first glance you can tell this place doesn’t have much funding. The parking lot is all gravel and the grass away from the actual building is overgrown and has been left to its own devices. In the lot, the large adoption building stands alone with its dull paint, broken concrete sidewalk, and faded wooden pillars, making it look lonely. There are only a few other cars parked alongside you, most likely the employees.

The receptionist looks as though this is the last place when you walk into the building. There’s a man in a stained, muscle shirt waiting in the seated area. His stomach slightly pouches and the skin visible shows the sun and age has not been favorable to him.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist has noticed your presence and addresses you.

You give a polite smile and step up to the desk. “Hi. I’m looking to adopt.”

The receptionist clicks on their computer, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh! Uh- No, I don’t.” You try to sound positive though you’re sure the dismay sneaks into your voice.

“Okay, that’s fine. Go have a seat and someone will be out shortly,” they say all without taking their eyes off of the computer screen.

You twist your upper body to look at the seats where the man is. The building itself is huge, but most of the space must be dedicated to housing the hybrids because there are only at most ten chairs bunched together.

The sound from your heels on the linoleum floor draws the man’s attention to you and you ignore the way his eyes scan over you. You nearly bolt out of the door to go to upscale hybrid adoption center like you originally planned, but the corkboard on the wall with pictures of hybrids smiling with their owners as they’re freshly adopted catches your eye and you hesitantly sit.

The man sighs and shifts in his seat. “How much longer are they going to be?” he loudly calls out to the receptionist.

“It shouldn’t be too much longer.”

“Bastards took my damn hybrid and I’m trying to get him back.”

You peek up from your phone to see that the man is talking to you. Your cheeks blush and you shuffle back in the chair and cross your right leg over the left. “I’m sorry.”

He rubs his hand over his face, “Yeah, been waiting for a little over an hour and they still have yet to bring him out.”

It’s twenty minutes before anyone comes into the waiting room. At the door opening, both you and the man looked over to see two guards escorting a hybrid out. The man stands and speedily walks over to them. The hybrid flinches in the guards' hold but says nothing as the man throws his arms over his shoulders and pulls him into a hug.

You’re too distracted to see the woman standing by your chair at first. When you finally so take notice of her, she gives you a kind smile and holds out a hand for you to shake.

“Hello. You’re here to adopt?”

You nod.

“Fantastic! If you just follow me to the back, I’m going to ask you a few questions and have you fill out some paperwork and then I can show you some hybrids.”

You gather your jacket and bag from the chair next to the one you were sitting in and follow behind her.

Nervous energy bubbles in your chest as you hear the chatter from the hybrids growing louder as the woman leads you into the housing section of the center. The rooms are set up in rows, similar to a prison where you can look into the rooms through the glass windows in the door. As you glance in the rooms, you mainly see the hybrids laying in their bed, finding ways to busy themselves. You stop when you reach a portion that opens up to accommodate lunchroom style tables and two food serving stations and sit at one of the tables, the metal cool beneath your legs.

“So, most of the hybrids we have here are older but we do have a few in your age range.” The woman shuffles through a pile of paper shes brought with her. “Is gender something important to you?”

“Um, no.”

“Oh that's good!” the woman seems relieved. “I will go get the first hybrid for you.”

You watch her walk off, left alone at the table with the papers. Part of you is curious to see what is written on them but you know it’s not your place to creep. Instead, you get up from the bench and walk to one side of the room to glance into the bunks. There are a few that are empty and as you walk down the line, the hybrids in the room, at most, glance at you passively before returning to their book or falling back asleep. All but one.

His hair is pitch black and it weren’t for his tail, you would be questioning if he was even a hybrid because his ears blend in with the rest of his hair. You can tell his hair is knotted and the plain clothes on him are baggy and loose. As you look in, he turns in his bed from having his knees to hugged into his chest to having one hanging off and the other tucked under him. The breath is knocked from you when you see how beautiful he is; a button nose paired with plush lips, round cheeks, and almond eyes.

His head tilts as he observes you back and he carefully steps from the bed and walks to the window. Your heart starts racing when his face comes directly in front of the window so the only thing separating you is the smudged glass. His eyes widen and he brings a hand up to the window, pressing his palm into it and you see his ears perk up.

“Y/N?”

You’re head snaps in the direction from which you’re called and you lower your hand. The woman’s returned and standing next to her is a hybrid. The hybrid’s hair is as dark as the hybrid’s you were just looking at, though this one’s ears stand straight from his head and have a slight point rather than drooping flat. You can also see the hybrid’s long tail behind him as he keeps his head down. You look back when there’s a whimper from the hybrid in the room you’re walking away from and when you look back at the hybrid being presented to you, he’s looking directly at you.

“This is Min Yoongi. He is a Siamese, twenty-six, and he’s had three previous owners. He IS older than you but I believe he should be a good fit for your particular lifestyle.”

You watched Yoongi the entire time the woman was speaking and couldn’t help but notice the way his jaw clenched at the mention of his previous owners. His tail was also rapidly swishing back and forth, slow enough for you to catch a glimpse of a bald patch on the underside.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you politely smile at Yoongi. His eyes are transfixed on yours and despite his wide pupils showing his excitement, he keeps a scowl on his face.

“His name is Jimin.” Yoongi carefully watches as your brows furrow in confusion. “The hybrid you were talking to, his name is Park Jimin.”

“Min Yoongi, that’s enough,” the woman interjects through gritted teeth.

“If you’re going to adopt a hybrid, adopt him, or Jungkook or Taehyung. Not me,” Yoongi says with complete conviction and at the mention of Jimin, you look over your shoulder at the door to said hybrid’s bunk. Now that you listen closely, you can hear a quiet whimpering coming from his direction.

“Min Yoongi!” The woman explosively reaches out and yanks on Yoongi’s ear. He loudly yelps and scurries on the bench away from her and the whimpering from the door becomes louder as Jimin begins kicking the door.

“Hey!” You’re half standing in the bench now, leaning your body over the table as you try to put your arm in front of Yoongi as protection.

Footsteps indicate that a few guards are approaching and one has taken to banging on Jimin’s door with a baton as a warning. Yoongi’s eyes are focused behind you on Jimin’s door but as two guards grow closer to you, his lips pull up in a snarl, ears completely flat against his head and the hair on his tail standing straight up.

“Stay away from them,” Yoongi hisses.

And they do. The guards instead walk around the table and roughly grab each of Yoongi’s arms and hoist him up before beginning to drag him off. You lock eyes with Yoongi as he looks back at you, getting further away but you’re too in shock to interject and a few moments after he’s gone from sight, you hear the slamming of a door.

The woman clears her throat, “I apologize for him. I thought he had learned that he should never try to sway potential owners but it seems I was wrong. He’s usually not aggressive and we will make sure he never behaves in that manner again.”

You just now look at her.

She smooths her clothes as though she was the one dragged off. “Now, I have another hybrid I can show you and I can assure you that he will be far more pleasant-”

“I want to see Jungkook and Taehyung,” you cut her off with a steely gaze.

Her lips thin and her nostrils flare. “Jungkook and Taehyung are both unavailable due to some misconduct, but we do have some other lovely hybrids. If you are interested in adopting in pairs, I can show you our predator hybrids, Seokjin, and Namjoon who are both mature and would also be a good fit for your home.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek as you contemplate your next move. Yoongi seemed so concerned about the two hybrids but the woman is most likely not going to give in and allow you to see them, and she’s the only one here that can ensure you don’t walk out of here alone. One last glance at Jimin’s door to see him shyly looking through the window quells any doubts you have that make you want to leave. If you were able to help one hybrid leave this place, then you felt that was worth it, and so you nod.

There are far more guards in the section that the predator hybrids are housed in. There are also bars on the windows of their doors and instead of the conversations you overheard in the last place, it’s deadly silent.

The woman gestures to the guards standing by the door and the one by the handle pounds on the door twice with his fist before opening it. One hybrid is sitting at a small desk with a book in his hands and the other is standing behind him and turns from the window looking outside to you as you walk in. Both of the hybrids ears perk up as their eyes scan over you.

As soon as you fully step into the room, there’s a series of clicks and grunts coming from the older looking hybrid with the round ears and stubbed tail. He lowers his head and steps away from you before completely lowering himself to the ground. Your eyes are on him so you don’t see the other hybrid until he bumps his body into yours, sending you stumbling and he follows to nuzzle his nose into your neck. A bright red colors your cheeks and your heart leaps into your throat.

“It seems they’ve both taken a liking to you.” The woman’s tone somehow sounds sarcastic. “The wolf hybrid is Namjoon,” she flicks her hand at the hybrid now whining into your neck, “and the bear is Seokjin.”

Namjoon becomes lost in his own ministrations and grabs your waist to pull you closer causing you to gasp in shock and the for the guards to come into the room. At the sight of them, Jin begins huffing and stands, puffing out his chest to seem bigger.

“Why don’t we go look at some other hybrids?”

Jin makes a deep noise in the back of his throat that sounds similar to a growl when the guards step forward and pry Namjoon from you. Namjoon bares his teeth at them and his ears lower back but he remains compliant. Both of their eyes are pleading as you follow the woman back out of the room and you find yourself feeling guilty for walking away from another hybrid.

The next room is right next door to Namjoon’s and Jin’s, though there’s only one person occupying the space.

The orange haired hybrid doesn’t look up when you enter the room, focusing on folding the white clothes perfectly. His room is the cleanest you’ve seen so far, both of the beds are made and the sheets are straightened so there are no wrinkles and the pillows are fluffed, his tennis sneakers are tucked neatly next to his desk which has a neat stack of papers on top, pencils lying to the side.

“This is our red fox hybrid, Hoseok. He would normally have a roommate, but we had to let the other hybrid go, unfortunately.”

Hoseok lifts his head at the woman talking and his whole body stiffens. His hands pause folding mid-air as he assesses the situation with a cautious demeanor. He’s intimidating, even when his face breaks out into a grin and he bounces over to you.

His large hands cup yours and bring them up between your bodies. “Are you here to adopt?!” Hoseok’s eyes light up as he excitedly asks you the question. His personality is infectious so you find that despite the way your heart pounds in your chest, you’re smiling along with him.

“I am.”

If it’s even possible, Hoseok’s smile grows larger. The glow of his skin and the whiteness of his teeth are almost blinding.

Hoseok brings your hand up to his face and leaves a few gentle nips on the inside of your wrist. “You’ve already met Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon.” You feel his lips curl upwards on the delicate skin of your wrist. “If you don’t adopt me, I hope you adopt one of them,” he stares into your eyes with a soft intensity.

You swallow heavily and you pray that he doesn’t feel your hands becoming clammy. You faintly hear the woman call out Hoseok’s name in warning but both of you ignore her as you keep your eyes locked. And at long last, you exhale a shaky breath and gently remove your wrist from Hoseok’s hand and look away. Your cheeks feel warm so you’re sure he can tell the effect he has on you.

“Hoseok has had three previous owners. The last was actually an instructor at a well-known dance academy, so he is technically trained if you’re looking for a hybrid that’s able to provide entertainment for yourself or any guests you may have.”

The woman gives you the rundown of Hoseok’s past like she’s done with every hybrid you’ve seen. Namjoon and Jin have both only had one owner and were put up for adoption because they were getting too old. You’ve spent nearly four hours listening to her speak about different hybrids and following her from room to room, and though your heart goes to all of the hybrids you’ve seen, only Yoongi, Hoseok, Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook stay on your mind, even though you haven’t met the former two.

You stare at the single adoption form in front of you pinned to the clipboard in your lap, pen in your hand. The main lobby is empty and there’s a different receptionist than the one from when you arrived. The setting sun casts the chairs in a golden hue. Most of the form is filled out though your pen hovers above the line asking for the name of the hybrid.

You rest the pen in your fingers and look up from the paper, eyebrows upturned and you continuously glance over at the receptionist working before you make your decision and walk over to them.

“Hi! All set?” the receptionist pleasantly asks.

“Uh-” you place your elbow onto the tall desk and gingerly scratch the bridge of your nose, “No actually. Is there a way I can get six more adoption forms?”

A single person is legally allowed to own up to twelve hybrids at a time.

The receptionist's eyes widen. “Umm, I’m...not...sure,” they answer uncertain, “Let me go talk to my boss and I’ll get back to you, okay?”

“There’s no need to do that,” you muster up a smile to seem convincing, “We already talked about it and said it would be alright.”

The receptionist hesitantly sits back down, looking warily at you and for a second, you think that they’re able to see through your bluff but luck is on your side because they spin to the filing cabinet and pull out extra adoption papers to your request. You quietly thank them and rush back to your chair to fill them out.

The sun had completely set by the time the receptionist puts all of the paperwork you filled out through the system and now you wait impatiently for your hybrids to be escorted to you. Your leg bounces nervously and your eyes never once leave the door. You hold your breath when the door clicks as it’s opened.

Jimin is the first to walk through the door, his tail wagging fast behind him and he slips from the guards escorting him and jogs over to you. His cheeks swell with the smile he has on his face. He hugs your entire arm to his chest and rests his cheek on your shoulder.

The others were in single file behind him, starting with Yoongi and then a hybrid with pure blonde hair, Jin, Namjoon, Hoseok, and finally a bunny hybrid with large ears and hazelnut brown hair. What baffles you is the handcuffs around the wrists of the bunny hybrid. You curiously watch as one of the guards removes the cuffs and the hybrid rubs his wrist and rolls them to crack them. There’s a faint brush of pink upon his cheekbones and his ears twitch when he looks at you and he shuffles so he’s half hiding behind Hoseok.

Yoongi’s looking at you in shock and you find him completely adorable with the way his eyes are big and vulnerable and how his lips form a pout. Namjoon’s tail is wagging behind him yet his face is neutral and Jin steps beside him, lips pressed together to contain his smile. The blonde hybrid that you’re not sure is Taehyung or Jungkook, has a scowl on his face but one ear is raised in interest.

“Ready to go to your new home?” You try to not let your nerves seep through your voice. Jimin’s tail thumps on the back of your leg.

“Did you really adopt all of us?” Yoongi is scared and hopeful all at once. You’re standing in front of him, one of his loves latched to your side and your sweet scent faintly mixes with Jimin’s and Namjoon’s before meeting his nose. He can tell the others are just as affected as him because he’s only ever seen them react the same when they met each other upon first arriving in the shelter.

“If that’s alright with you?”

You’re terrified. You have no idea if they will get along; if they even know each other. As your heart starts racing and your throat closes up, Taehyung bounds over to you at Jimin whining, a similar noise being vocalized.

Taehyung has his ears lowered and tail tucked in submission in front of you, peeking up at you with big eyes. You want to feel the locks on his head despite the tangles and flecks of dirt, the wavier hair that covers his ears. You’re not given a choice because Taehyung nudges his head into your stomach and your hand reflexively comes up to Taehyung’s head as one foot goes back to catch you.

“Please take me home.”

Tags: @detectivebourbon @omgsuperstarg

[imagine-loki]

Atlas: Space, Neptune

TITLE: Atlas: Space

CHAPTER NO./ONE-SHOT: 10/12

AUTHOR: fanfictrashdump

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine narrating episodes of Loki’s life with the Avengers based on the songs from Sleeping At Last’s “Atlas: Space” album. 

RATING: T-M

NOTES/WARNINGS: Welcome to my Sleeping At Last’s Atlas: Space challenge, aka Another writing project I do not have time for, but my brain insisted on doing.

This series will be less like a multichapter fic and more of a one-shot compendium, but that they all interconnect in one way or another. It will revolve around Loki and Becca’s relationship (Taking Turns, Glow, Helmet Heists–don’t worry, more Loki-Charlie stuff will be along) and I will use those one-shots as reference to the timeline. Each chapter will be one song, used as inspiration for the story.

Chapter 10: Neptune

Summary: Loki and Becca have decided to discuss the last decade of their lives without each other. Loki finds that his absence has done much more harm than he intended, but he vows to make amends. (Immediately after Glow.)

Warnings include: Language, mentions of suicide, disease, cancer, implied smut, angst but ends well?

=

Pitch black, pale blue It was a stained glass Variation of the truth And I felt empty handed

They were meant to be taking turns, telling each other what had happened in that stretch of years since they had last met. He truly wanted to tell Rebecca of every detail she had missed due to his self-imposed exile, but the second the coffee, eggs, and toast hit the table, they both felt eerily silent. Loki stared at the black liquid swirling in his mug, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Despite the growing discomfort, his eyes inevitably pulled to her. Even after all this time, the very sight of her, as different as it was now, made his heart stutter. It immediately morphed into a constricting pain in his chest, forcing him to clear his throat awkwardly.

You let me set sail With cheap wood So I patched up Every leak that I could ’til the blame grew too heavy

Could he tell her the truth?

Sure, she deserved it. More than anything–the jewels and vast empires he wanted to gift her–she deserved the truth. Could he tell her that he had run just because he was afraid? What kind of monster would that make him? Especially now that he knew how much she had hurt in his absence. It felt like such an empty excuse now–perhaps it always was. Through the dip in her v-neck long-sleeve shirt, he could spy a glossy scar, perfectly round, beneath her collarbone. He felt a momentary compulsion to brush his fingers against the shiny skin, but he closed his hands around his mug.

Stitch by stitch, I tear apart If brokenness is a form of art I must be a poster child prodigy Thread by thread, I come apart If brokenness is a work of art Surely this must be my masterpiece

“Stop looking at me like that, for fuck’s sake,” she breathed out, teeth grit painfully tight. Loki blinked forcefully, and he almost asked what she meant before she interrupted. “Like you’re wondering whether or not I’m broken. I think you know I am.”

“No! I–” He stopped when she gave him a withering look for lying. “I’m sorry. It’s taking longer than I thought to reconcile seeing you…so different. It–”

Her face hardened, an expression that he was so unfamiliar with that it startled him. His own softened in response. “I did what I could with what I had. With who I had because I did not have the luxury to go off on some stupid space adventure–”

“I’m sorry. I will beg you on my knees until my dying breath for you to forgive me, but I can’t change any of that, Becca.” He growled at himself, taking a deep breath and staring upwards to get the prickling tears in his eyes under control. “Please, just eat your breakfast.”

“I’m not very hungry,” she replied, pushing her plate away.

“Rebecca,” he warned gently and she scoffed.

“You don’t get to do that, Loki.” She curled up in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest, protecting herself. “Coming back doesn’t give you an automatic pass. It doesn’t put us right back to where we left off.” Outside, the weather had taken its cues from her mood, and the window darkened with storm clouds.

I’m only honest when it rains If I time it right, the thunder breaks When I open my mouth I want to tell you, but I don’t know how

“I know. I am sorry. I am trying. I swear to you I am trying to figure out how to tell you that I am a shit individual and that I wish I could take back every single second that I wasn’t here. This wasn’t what I wanted for you. This was never–”

The tears finally won over, coming down his cheeks, unhindered, as he silently willed her to take a bite of toast, of eggs, anything. He clenched his eyes shut, head hanging low. His eyes had spied more shiny bits of skin, but these made his blood run cold.

“What are those scars?”

The way he asked the question left out any doubt of him knowing exactly what they were. He didn’t even need to watch her to know she had shifted her arms inwards.

I’m only honest when it rains An open book with a torn out page And my ink’s run out I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I don’t know how No, I don’t know how I don’t know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

“Desperation,” she answered after a long, long silence. “I didn’t have a Bifrost handy.”

She offered him a tight-lipped smile when his eyes shot up. It wasn’t like he didn’t already know, but the confirmation hurt all the same. He had been honest with her about his inner turmoil after he discovered he was adopted. It wasn’t a secret that he had let go of his adoptive father’s spear without a second thought. Becca had been so angry to learn that he felt like there was nothing else to do but fall into the abyss. He now understood that rage.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.”

Becca snorted. “It’s kind of a one-person job, Lo.”

“That’s not funny!” He roared, landing his fist on the table hard enough to make the flatware rattle.

“You’re right. You’re right. It would’ve been a joke if I had said I needed a better supervisor to finish the job,” she riposted, deadpan.

His hand clenched around his coffee mug, almost debating if it was worth it to throw it against the wall so that it would relieve some of his tension, but deciding against it. He hurriedly swallowed a sip that scalded all the way to his stomach.

“I don’t know why you’re upset. You wanted to know what happened. That’s what happened. I worked, alone. I mourned your death. I got sick. I got carved up like a roast. I was sick while still being sick. I didn’t want to do it, anymore. I did something about it. I failed. Now you’re here. And I am glad, but loving you doesn’t make anything else any less real and it doesn’t make me any less angry.”

Her words felt like a weight upon his chest, threatening to crack it open.

“How can you still love me?” Loki’s voice was small and shaky.

That was the real question, wasn’t it? How could she even harbor indifference for him after his abandonment. He didn’t deserve her light, her kindness, her well-placed rage.

“I don’t know.”

Pitch black, pale blue These wild oceans Shake what’s left of me loose Just to hear me cry mercy

A strong wind at my back So I lift up the only sail that I have This tired white flag

The dam broke. A sob wrenched her chest and she lowered her head to her hands, fingers pulling at the short tresses in what had to be a painful way. “I don’t know,” she repeated. “None of this makes sense, but we never made sense, did we?”

Loki finally moved out of his seat, taking a knee in front of her and tracing shapes on her knees over her plaid pajama bottoms. “That’s not quite true, is it? You and I always clicked rather well, despite how much of a bad idea that was.”

“There’s not much left of me, nowadays, to click to anything.”

“I’ll give you every piece you need to be whole, again,” he assured. “Every molecule of me is already on borrowed time and I will give every instant to you if it’ll make you smile–”

Becca covered his mouth with her hand, which she dropped once he nodded in agreement of his silence. “I can’t live with promises, anymore. Don’t promise me a thing–”

“But–”

“Loki. A promise is worth nothing if you don’t follow through.”

“I swore to you that I would stay until you demand I leave.” He swallowed thickly and breathed deep. “I know I said that before, but I was an idiot, too scared to lose you, too scared of his own demons to love you as you deserved.” He settled back on his haunches, giving her space to breathe. “I am here for you, body, heart and soul. I surrender to you and only you. This is the only place I want to be, Becca.”

With a sniffle, she joined him on the floor, slipping into his arms to hug his middle. She shuddered at the familiarity of his touch, slightly cool, and smelling like pine and cinnamon.

Loki tentatively lowered his lips to hers, tasting the few sips of bitter coffee on her tongue. His body knew how to navigate far before his mind had even caught up to what was occurring. He sought to comfort her frantic nerves, hanging by the barest threads, soothe her mind and ease her burden. Lips trailed down her jaw until they reached her neck, where they settled against her pulse and nipped. When his fingers itched at the hem of her shirt, she stopped him with a hand around his wrist.

“I apologize. I moved too fast,” he panted, moving a fraction back to look at her face. A flash of lightning illuminated her face in an eerie glow.

I don’t know how, know how, know how I want to love you, but I don’t know how

I want to love you…

A dark shadow crossed her expression. “No, it’s not that.” He prompted her to continue with a nod. “I’m not the same.” He opened his mouth to protest, but she shook her head as a deterrent. “It’s not the weight, it's…”

He frowned, catching the hem of her shirt. He raised his eyebrows, silently asking for permission. Becca simply looked away, clenching her eyes shut. Loki slowly hitched her t-shirt up, ignoring the sight of her ribs, sticking out awkwardly, knowing he could remedy that easily enough, and soared past until reaching two large scars on her chest just below her now mutilated breasts.

“Who did this to you?”

Becca clenched her eyes tighter. This was clearly one of those things she did not want to talk about, but he wanted–needed–to know. “I got sick again,” she repeated for what she felt was the millionth time that day. “They had to…”

“Cancer?” He asked, breathlessly, his fingers tracing over her scars with a featherlight touch. He was familiar with the Midgardian disease, though he had not met anyone to suffer it, firsthand. She nodded her assent, jerkily. “Again? What do you mean, again?” Holding her breath, she leaned back, pulling her bottoms down just enough to show him the scar between her hips. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when–”

“You were dead,” she said as way of excuse.

“I still heard your pain,” he admitted, swathing her skin with his hands. She only looked half surprised. “I was meant for Valhalla and through the darkness I heard you, and all I wanted was to reach you.” He pressed his forehead against hers.

“You did.”

“Much too late, dove.” He cursed under his breath, for what felt like the millionth time. “I should have stayed. I could have helped, anything.” When he couldn’t bare the what ifs any longer, he kissed her again, pulling her body into his. “I intend to make amends,” he husked, attacking her neck with renewed fervor, forcing a groan from Becca’s mouth. Her brief hesitation was short-lived as she wrapped her legs around his waist and he lowered them both to the floor.

“Thank you,” she murmured as the lay naked and panting on the floor some time later. “For not freaking out.”

“Why would I? I get to discover every inch of you all over again,” he replied, smiling contentedly, fingers idly brushing the scar over her womb in a way that made her shiver.

“Same.” She tapped a scar over his chest with her index. “What happened there?”

“That’s a long story,” he sighed, resting his head on her chest to listen to the steady thumping of her heart.

“We have time.”

“That we do.” He smiled, realized the implication of the phrase. He was to stay. “Well, it started with my oaf of a brother…”

[bakugotrashpanda]

Tamaki/Sero/Midoriya/Iida Masterlist

Back to Character Selection

Unless marked as Angst or 18+, assume fluff content GN = gender neutral, if you feel that I mislabeled something, please let me know! Sorry to keep them all on one list, but I don’t write very often for them 😞

Updated: 10/31/2023

⁘

Tamaki Masterlist

Cleanse (GN) Tamaki won’t let you stew on negativity

Valentine’s Day Fic: Baking (GN)

Kinktober 2019: Tentacles (18+)

Sero Masterlist

Valentine’s Day Fic: You Call That Flirting? (GN) Nothing like a friendly competition between friends, right?

2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge: Wish (GN) A night beneath the stars.

2019 AFC: Wind (GN) Floor 5 pitches in when a storm keeps you awake

Dodgeball (HC) (GN) Dodgeball, a post midterm tradition

Midoriya Masterlist

Catpuccino (GN) A cappuccino with a cat made from the foam (like latte art) Google it if you don’t know what it looks like. No real pairing here.

Bench PressingThe guys lift you up to lift your spirits

Valentine’s Day Fic: Movie (18+)

VDF: Reunion (18+)

Winter Weekend Drabbles 2022: Lights

Pint Sized Kinktober: Somnophilia

Iida Masterlist

Pay Attention to Me, Angst (GN)Iida’s attention seems to be drifting… Server Collab!

Leash, angstTrackstar!Iida. Iida reveals his inner thoughts while drunk.

Valentine’s Day Fic: Puppy LoveYou and Iida think about adopting a dog.

2019 AFC: Please Come Home !!CHILD LOSS MENTION Iida dresses up as Santa

Winter Weekend Drabbles: Joy

The Duke’s Son and The Viscount’s Daughter

When you attend a ball, a certain man catches your eye. Things seem to be going well until an announcement changes everything. Part of a collaboration, check out the other work here.

Cleansing Corruption (GN)(Violence) Corruption runs rampant, and it hits closer to home than Iida expects. It's up to him to right these wrongs.

Pint Sized Kinktober: Double Penetration

Tokoyami Masterlist

Winter Weekend Drabbles: Solstice (GN)

[pandawritesmanythings]

Inner Battle

Summary: The aftermath of last night suddenly falls on the Septic egos. Anti is, of course, not helping and being annoying as usual.

Word count: 1.3K

A/N: It's belated, but it's here!

Warnings: Allusions to a panic attack, censured swear words, actual swearing in Irish, mentions of physical abuse.

Jameson blinked twice and cocked his head to the side, trying to silently come to grips with the situation.

He turned towards Chase, who was right next to him in the door frame and signed.

"So she just got in the house?"

"Yeah..." Chase sighed. "It was too late and she was scared out of her fricking mind. There was really not much we could do."

"You're taking her to Child's Services?" Jameson signed with visible concern.

"I mean, what other option do we have?" The weight of the situation was getting a little bit too heavy on Chase. "We don't want to be framed for kidnapping! And b'sides, with Mr. Grinch up 'ere I don't know if-"

"Cé tú ag caint faoi, is beag soith!?" An angry Irish accent sounded off from upstairs.

"Ah, Christ." Chase rolled his eyes.

Anti came downstairs and made a beeline towards Chase letting out a string of curse words, both in English and Irish.

"Ya think you're funny, you sad, pathetic-?" A hand was suddenly right in front of his face as a signal to stop.

"Hand Wash. You might wanna tone it down? There's a minor right over there." Chase deadpanned him.

This made Anti crane his neck to see his "favorite" magician glaring him into the ground while a small girl with brown hair curled in the bed.

"What is that?" Anti pointed at the child as he stalked forwards with a scowl.

Marvin got up and crossed his arms as he placed himself between the green goblin and the child. "A girl. And it would be in your best interest to stay put. Unless you wanna take this outside?" 

"Oooooooh, you'd love that. Wouldn't you magic boy?"

"Not as much as you would think, you poor excuse for a hand sanitizer."

"Alright. Alright. Yeah, girls? You're both pretty. Can we go on?" A German accent sounded from behind where Chase and Jameson were standing.

Marvin blinked twice before smirking towards the doctor. "I knew I was pretty. But I think that glitch boy needed to be reminded of how terribly unattractive a decapitated head is."

"OK. LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE-!"

Before Anti could finish cursing Marvin off, a cry was heard from the bed.

At some point during the fight, the girl had woken up and was crying and screaming against the corner in which the bed was against.

The five men present in the room turned towards the girl and all of them, except Anti, rushed inside the room or near where she was pressing herself against the wall.

"Hey... Hey..." Marvin tried to calm her down. "Hey, Emma. Look!"

Whipping his hand out, Marvin made the same trick from last night, making a yellow flower appear in his hand. "You lost your flower, right? Here, you can have this one."

The girl hesitated, but she recognized the kindness in the man's eyes and took the flower with apprehension.

"I'm sorry for yelling," Marvin said, even though it was not him who had yelled, but he knew that Anti would never apologize. "I promise I won't do it again."

The girl looked down at the flower and then to the magician's eyes. "It's okay. But it wasn't you who was yelling, it was the goblin." Emma said pointing at Anti who stood menacingly in the middle of the room.

The others snickered and tried to hide their laughter, some failing harder than others.

Anti was just... flabbergasted? That this child. This literal - what, six? Seven years old? - had the nerve to call him a goblin to his face, without batting an eye.

"What did you just say to me, you little-?" The man walked closer to the bed menacingly, however, Chase blocked his way. 

"Man, come on. It's just a kid."

"Shut it, Brody. Do I look like I give a sh*t?"

"HEY!" Everyone turned their heads at Emma's accusatory scream. "That's a bad word mister broccoli! Only evil people use it, and everyone in this house is super nice!"

"Oh, but that's exactly what I am, little girl..." Anti cocked his head, turning his eyes black and glitching slightly for effect.

The girl, however, seemed unfazed. "It is 5 against one bean string. I bet they can kick your butt any day!"

Alright, the kid had a mouth on her. Anti wasn't gonna admit that he liked that...

But he did.

"And where will you be?"

"Protected by Marvin!" She raised her head confidently.

Marvin felt something swell in his chest. He had always prided himself in his ability to protect others... But hearing such a young girl trusting him to protect her, even if she didn't really know them made his heart soar.

"Alright, that's enough." The man in the mask said standing between Anti and Emma. "I think you best go to the void to cool off. Would want you overheating, now would we?"

Anti smiled, his eyes still pitch black. "I suppose." And then he glitched away.

Emma slumped against the wall letting out a huff of air. "Oh, he's gone..."

"You were very brave." Marvin sat next to her. "Were you scared?"

"A little. But he isn't worst than Mason."

Marvin's eyebrows furrowed. "Emma. Who is Mason?"

"Momma's guy." She started playing with the flower, avoiding eye contact. "He said I was being a bad girl so he threw the vase at me."

Now, Marvin didn't know this. Probably because when he had gazed into her memories he had seen only some of the older ones. 

"I don't think that the elf is scary." She continued. "Things like him can disappear if you stand up to them, like waking up from a nightmare."

The men in the room were left astonished at the words of the girl. How could this girl be so brave, yet look so fragile looking down at the small flower and gently grazing the petals?

"Look Emma," Henrik spoke next, walking slowly towards her. "We can't have you here."

The girl looked around. "You can't?"

"No, little one." Henrik kneeled next to her, claiming Marvin's spot to keep talking to the girl. "You see, we could get in a lot of trouble."

"Really?"

"Mhm. If you want something, can you just take it?" He asked the girl.

"No... Momma yelled at me when I took a flower without asking her." She said, looking down at the flower Marvin had gifted her.

"Well, people could think that we took you without permission, even if we tell them we didn't. And that would get us in a lot of trouble." He continued and extended his hand. "Would you come with us so we don't get in trouble?"

With a bit of hesitation, the girl finally held his hand. "Okay..."

Henrik walked her out of the room, going on about stopping somewhere for breakfast and then taking her somewhere safe. However, Marvin stepped behind Chase, who was looking at the girl intently.

"You understand where she comes from, right?"

"Of course. I'm not deaf nor blind Marv." 

"She can't go back to that family."

"Well, that's not our decision to make."

"But what if we told them what she said? They probably will need us to tell them how she got here or if she said anything about how and why she got here. We can't just-"

"And what are we gonna do afterward, huh!?" Chase finally turned, obvious conflict in his eyes. "Adopt her? Marvin. We can barely take care of ourselves. My own wife left me because she thought I couldn't take care of my own kids! How could we possibly mean any good for her!?"

Jameson placed a comforting hand on Chase's shoulder as if asking him to calm down.

"Sorry JJ..."

Marvin was silent for one more second before answering. "I think that from where she stands... Anything is an improvement of the hell she lives in."

[brideofedoras]

Soulbound: Almost Human

Disclaimer: the usual.  I only own my OCs...

Word Count: 2400+

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Thoughts of self harm, taking medication, angst, Kennex is a jerk.

Chapter Three (with links to Chapters 1 and 2)

Emily buried herself in work once she returned to the lab.  Anything to get her mind off the itch that had grown steadily more pronounced with each mile she put between herself and the precinct.  But even her personal project she hoped to pitch to the police department could not keep the itch at bay.

She pushed her sketchbook away and spun around on her stool.  “Focus, Emily,” she murmured to herself, pushing herself into another spin.

“Emily, are you all right?”  Rudy asked from his desk, not looking up from the robotic butterfly he was working on.  A blue morpho, she smiled when she recognized the shape and color of the wings.  

“I’m…  I saw him this morning,” she finally told her boss.  “I’ve been feeling out of sorts since.”

Rudy nodded slowly.  “I wondered if he would finally come in.”

“He did,” she sighed.  “Part of me wants to meet him… but at the same time…”

He lifted his magnifying glasses to look at her.  “I know,” he nodded.  “I understand, Emily.”  He nodded toward her computer.  “How far have you gotten on your project?”

She couldn’t help but smile.  Rudy wasn’t the best at offering comfort or advice, but he knew how to divert attention into safer territory.  “I can’t focus on it right now, my mind is going ninety to nothing.  I can’t decide if I want to start small or just go big.”

“Ah,” he nodded.  “Explain your concept to me again, maybe I can help steer your mind in the direction you need.”

She dipped her head in agreement before picking up her sketchbook.  “I already told you that I started brainstorming this idea when I was in grad school, before Dad…”  She trailed off, her mind tripping back to the night she’d first dreamed up the concept.  Sam had been working late on a case, and she’d sat up half the night waiting for him to come home so she could run the idea by him.  Her dad had fully supported the idea.  “Shortly before the raid,” she flipped to the front of the pad.  “I got the idea after five K-9s were killed by that bomb they couldn’t detect during the big drug bust.”

“I remember that one,” Rudy frowned.  “Two of the handlers had been hospitalized.”

“I remember when Daddy came home, he was devastated by the loss of the dogs.  He always loved dogs and was planning on adopting one when he retired,” she continued softly.  “He’d told me it was a senseless loss for the department, five incredible K-9 officers, all highly decorated.  He said ‘we’ve got android cops to lead us into gunfights, why can’t the dogs have something similar?’  One day after class I went home and fell asleep, and dreamed about building an android K-9.  When I woke up I started writing ideas down and sketching dogs.  I nearly pounced on Dad when he got home, I was so excited to tell him.”  She shook her head as she reached up to wipe away an unexpected tear.  “The back story for the idea isn’t really that important.”

“Yes, it is,” Rudy disagreed with her.  “The idea had to come from somewhere, and the back story is the most important part of the conception.”

She half-laughed at that.  “It’s cheesy and sappy is what it is,” she argued.  “Daddy loved the idea and encouraged me to go for it.  I… I had actually planned to design and build one for my big project, but after Daddy… after he passed I couldn’t do it.”  She shrugged again.  “Daddy would have retired this year, that was his plan.  Retire from active duty at sixty-five, teach some courses for the academy for a few years, and fully retire at seventy.  I think I laid awake half the night, my mind racing in circles before it popped into my head that I needed to start working on the K-9 android.”  She took off her glasses to rub at the bridge of her nose.  “The androids would be for the dogs the same way the MXes are for the police.  Designed to sniff out or detect drugs, bombs, people.  Send them into potentially volatile areas or situations.  They would be equipped with built-in audio and visual recording, sensory detection and scanning, and transmitting information as it records to a datapad or an MX.  The dogs we currently use have to be equipped and outfitted with microchips for identification and tracking, flak vests, protective booties, headgear with built-in audio and visual recording and transmitting devices, which weigh and slow the dogs down.  The android K-9s would not need flak vests or helmets.  Their eyes would be the cameras.  Their ears the microphones,” she held the sketchbook over to Rudy.  “I’m just undecided on big or little.”

“What was your father’s favorite breed of dog?”  Her supervisor asked as he looked at her notes and sketches.

“He didn’t have a favorite breed,” she smiled.  “‘Mutts are the best kind of dog you could ever ask for, Cupcake,’ he told me several times.  Especially the old, the half-blind, or the three-legged ones.  You show them love, they will love you forever.”  She shook her head fondly.  “He always spoke about this one dog he’d grown up with.  He wasn’t sure what all Bobo was, part lab.  Beautiful dog and faithful.”  

Rudy handed back the sketchbook.  “If you need any assistance with this, I would be more than glad to help,” he told her.  

“Thank you, Rudy,” she hugged the book to her chest.  “Mind if I take my lunch break and run out for something?  I’ll pick something up for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be wonderful,” he nodded.  

 The break away from the lab and out in the crisp fall air invigorated her and calmed that itch, that urge that had been crawling along her skin since the precinct.  She almost hated to return to the lab.  Almost.  But she’d promised Rudy lunch and she’d taken the opportunity to run by her apartment to grab a photo from one of her dad’s old albums, a photo of his dog.

She pulled up in front of the old church and frowned slightly when she noticed a flat black police issue sedan with a Saint Christopher’s Medal hanging from a chain on the rearview mirror.  She felt her chest tighten.  

She heard the voices as she descended the metal stairs to the lab.  She glanced around before finding Rudy and a tall man with his back to her, standing around the metal table away from their workbenches.  She dropped off his lunch at his desk before shrugging out of her jacket and making her way over to join them.

“All right, plug it in already,” a low, deep, very masculine voice nearly growled out with a touch of impatience.  “I got to get back on the street.”

Emily’s eyes widened when she saw the android on the table.  A DRN.  Why was he reanimating a DRN?  Her eyes snapped up to Rudy as he held out the wand to the man across from him.  

“Okay.  Please have the honor of waking him up yourself,” he addressed the man.  “Touch it against his left ear.”

The man shifted as he took the wand and followed the instructions.

The DRN gasped, his black eyes immediately changing to a brilliant baby blue.  “How long was I out?”  he asked as he sat up and took in everything around him.

“Uh, four years and three months,” Rudy answered the DRN’s question.  

The DRN focused his attention on the other man.  The side of his face lit up as he scanned and processed information.  “Detective John Kennex.  I’m Dorian.  How are you?  Your record is outstanding.”

Emily’s lungs constricted when she realized the man who still had his back to her was John.  But why was he activating a DRN?  Where was 785?

“Used to be,” Kennex sounded a little put off.

“Excuse me?”  Dorian asked, curiosity filling his expression.

“Update your files,” John started to turn.  “Let’s go.”

Emily felt her lungs rattle when John Kennex turned to face her.  This time half the distance of the bullpen at the precinct wasn’t separating them.  He was five feet from her now.  Close enough to see the scar on his chin she’d become so familiar with.  Close enough to breathe in a hint of the cologne he wore.  Close enough to see the tension in his eyes.

“Rudy, when did you get an assistant?”  His eyes were locked with hers while he addressed Lom.

“Emily has been working with me for a year now,” Rudy answered.  “John Kennex, Emily Williams,” he quickly made the introductions.

“So, what’s a girl like you doing working in a dungeon like this?” Kennex asked, his eyes studying her.

He’s talking to me.  Ohmygod he’s actually talking to me.  He…  Her eyes widened when his words sank in.  

The soul mark on her inner right thigh tingled.  “You…  You said my words,” her voice rasped out as her lungs grew tight.  “This can’t…  this can’t be real…”  She fished into her pocket for her inhaler when a harsh wheeze gripped her.

The warmth in his hazel eyes cooled considerably as his jaw ticked.  “You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine,” his tone was hard, his words clipped.  “Synthetic, let’s go.”

 You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine.

John Kennex’ cold, cruel words ran through her head on a rapidly increasing, distorting loop in Tilt-A-Whirl fashion.  Over and over.  Emily tried to shut her mind off, tried to put her focus on her project.  She failed.

That itch was back.  She hadn’t realized it had faded earlier, but it was back with a vengeance.  It took everything in her willpower to keep from grabbing an X-acto blade from her desk drawer and cutting into her forearm.

Rudy had given up trying to ask if she was okay, she’d shut down on him when he had enquired if John really was her soulmate.

She didn’t understand.  His first words to her were the very words branded onto her inner thigh when she was born.  So, what’s a girl like you doing working in a dungeon like this?  

Words that had caused her a world of hurt when she was barely a few minutes old, when her birth parents had taken one look at her tiny little leg… and rejected her.  Words that had caused many potential foster and adoptive parents to turn their backs on her.  Nobody wanted a baby, a child, branded with words insinuating a life of sexual debauchery.  What else could those words mean?  Especially with the location of those words on her body, indicating the soul bond would occur during a very intimate moment.

Words that had shaped a young mind and made a little abandoned and nameless child decide she never wanted to ever meet the man she was fated to be with.  Words that had left Baby Jane Doe fearful of what her life might be, fearful of never finding someone who truly loved her, fearful of always being rejected or thrown aside.

The urge, the need to carve those words from her thigh was too strong.  No matter how hard she tried she could not push those thoughts away.  Not when they were gripping her.  Suffocating her.

She shoved away from her desk and ran toward the bathroom.  She barely dropped to her knees before her stomach upended itself.

Rejected.

Abandoned.

Forgotten.

She retched until there was nothing left in her stomach.  You must be mistaken, Sweetheart, ‘cause you sure as hell never said mine.

 Emily crawled under her work bench and grabbed her messenger bag.  She ignored Rudy’s concerned glance (one of hundreds he’d given her all afternoon) and rooted her hand through her bag’s contents until she found the cold metal pill canister containing her anti-anxiety medication.  She pressed her thumb to the top of the container before popping a tiny pill into her mouth and swallowing it dry.  

She hated taking the pills.  Hated how lethargic and stoned they made her feel at times.  She hadn’t done herself any favors, going fifteen months without taking them regularly, just on the bad days.  But ever since John Kennex had woken from his coma and her visits were forcibly stopped (for her safety and well-being and for his own recovery and rehabilitation) she had been taking them daily, sometimes more.  She wasn’t supposed to.  Those daily visits had done more for her than those damned pills ever had, and without the comfort of that routine, without the soothing presence of the comatose man she had fallen in love with over time, she found herself relying more and more on a synthesized balm to soothe the anxiety.  But it didn’t always work.

She raked her fingers through her dark hair before folding her arms around her legs and burying her face between her bent knees.  She had refused Rudy’s gentle suggestion of going home earlier, knowing full well what would happen the moment she was alone.  She’d wind up finding something sharp.  She’d wind up carving up her arm.  She’d wind up carving the damned soulmark from her right thigh.

She wanted to focus on something other than that damned itch.  She wanted to be able to give one hundred percent of her attention to her job.  She wanted to be able to crawl out from underneath her desk and not worry about giving into the consuming need to inflict pain to forget.

To forget that the man she had fallen in love with had said her words.

To forget that he had coldly rejected her.

To forget that he had walked out and abandoned her just like every other person who was supposed to love her left.

She stayed under the desk until the meds kicked in and that itch faded to a dull annoyance, burying herself in work when Rudy received a message alert from Dorian regarding a chemical analysis they needed.

She worked late through the night with her boss, gathering the necessary equipment needed to reactivate the MXes that had gone down with the EMP used at the precinct.  It took four hours, going floor by floor, to get the androids on their feet and fully functioning.  Another two hours to repair some moderate damage to other synthetics.

 It wasn’t until she was tucked away alone in her little apartment that her brave face came crashing down.  

[thebutchersdaughtersblog]

A long night Felix x Reader

I hope you like this story it took a while to write

Requested by-@your-shinobi

Waring-Slight NSFW

A cold night and Felix walking with the Cullen's to the throne room and with a forceful push the heavy door opening into the larger room. A young Y/n was standing next to Emmett as she hung on to Rosalie's arm scared as she hears these people were killer of their own kind. She knew what type of people they were and yet she came with her new family and was scared out of her mind Edward step forward to show Bella was doing ok along with his daughter.

Y/n looked around at all the guards, her eyes locking onto one guard. Her breath caught in her throat "'shit " she thought and moved closer to Rosalie and Rosalie looked down at her adopted daughter and she sent a small smile telling her "it's fine darling we'll being leaving soon," Y/n simply nodded her head but keep close in fear and shock. A little while later Aro had seen Y/n and asked her to come forward she was scared out of her mind and her father noticed it and took her arm in his and walked forward and stood proudly by her side as she gave aro her hand. He took her hand greedily and looked at her and her thoughts."Ah, what a  life you have had, " Aro said with a smile and then Y/n felt a hand on grabbing her hand.

She looked back and saw Felix Volturi, she felt her heart stop, She felt her face grow red. Felix picked her up and began to walk away. Emmett chased after him but Alec stood in his way as Aro exclaimed"Now now Emmett you don't want to fight him for his mate," Emmett's  non-beating heart stopped."No no, I will not have my child be a mate of the Volturi!"Rosalie screamed as her family held her back. Caius stood up and walked over to her before smiling at her "Well too bad because it's already been sealed darling," venom dripping from his words.Y/n was still in the arms of Felix as he walked out of the room.

He placed you on your feet before slowly walking forward and you began to walk backward until your back hit the wall."You've been gone far too long my dear," Felix said while placing his hand on the right side of your face. You felt yourself lean further into his touch it was intoxicating. He placed his arm under as you wrapped your leg around his middle. His eyes flickered between your eyes and your pink full lips. You found yourself leaning in as well. He pushes you against the wall hard not hard enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he was in charge. You pulled away from the kiss to catch your breath only to have gasp from the feeling of cold lips on your neck.

You looked over his shoulder only to see the door open slowly"Felix someone's coming"you whisper into his ear. He growled at this. He gently placed you on the ground looking at you and smiling a small smile. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close and spun you around, you let out a small squeal. You began to laugh as he put you back on your feet, you smiled up at him. A small vampire walked out of the room with his head down and looked over at you and Felix giving a knowing nod before running down the hall.

Felix left out a huff of air before he leaned down kisses your forehead and gave you a small squeeze. You felt safe from everything and yet you wanted to stay with him as long as possible. You dug your head into his neck as he picks you up and carried you to his room. He placed you on his large bed he never used and walk over and turned on his Xbox and grabbing his controller. He made his way back to the bed where you had found a soft blanket to wrap up in. He laughed when he saw you wrapped up in his blanket. He walked over to you and picked you and the blanket up and sat you on his lap. Felix had been playing his game for a while and your head was leaned up against his left peck and his arms around you. You had a mischievous idea, you looked up at Felix. He was so concentrated on his game, so you turned yourself around to where your legs were on both side of his legs. Felix helps with this but didn't know why you decide to move. 

You looked at Felix who ha paused his game to see what on earth you were doing. You gave him a smile as you enclosed your arms around his neck. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you close but accidentally created fiction. A groan left his lips as you smirked. You rolled your hips again making more fiction. You continued to make fiction and Felix's groans became louder but you began to slow down to a halt.

You smirked at him. He looked at you with pitch black eyes. In a flash you were under his large body, he leaned down"You're playing a dangerous game kitten," he said in a low whisper. He began to kiss under your ear and slowly making his way back to your neck. You sucked in the air, Felix rolled his hips down on to yours.

You went to wrap your arms around his neck but he grabbed them and pulled them above your head, he looked down at you with a look that made you weak, if you were standing you probably might have fallen from the look he was giving you."Oh, kitten you don't get to touch since I waited so long just to hold you, and now see you like this makes me want to claim you as mine, leave bite marks on your neck so everyone will see that you belong to me, "He said in a husked tone. He leaned down in a rushed action while letting a growl leave his lips that were swollen from kissing you hard. He continued to roll his hips into you and you couldn't keep your voice from him any longer. You let a long moan. He smirked at this and stopped his movement. You moaned in protested you rubbed your legs together try to create but Felix was in between you legs you groaned in frustrated at the leak of contact.

He let a chuckle at your whines before he moved further down to where he was at your heat. He looked up at your red face before he pulled off your pants and looked at your face to make you wanted this to happen. You let a whine as he kissed your inner thigh also leaving bite marks on your legs. He began to eat you out and you began to squirm but he held you down by your hips. You began to feel a knot form in your stomach as he pulled your heat close he moaned like a cat in heat. He couldn't get enough of your taste. Your body heat began to rise as you got closer to release.

Your hands made their way to his hair and began to pull at it. He moaned at your actions but before you could release he pulled away and look at the door."Hurry get dressed kitten we'll be having some company soon," He said while licking the side of your neck. You whined at this, you had unfinished business to finish. The door open to revealed Aro. "Young y/n you'll be staying with us for a while so please make yourself at home," he said giving a knowing smile. You felt your face turn red as he left, Felix turns his attention back to you. Pushing you back on to the bed, "Now where were we?" Felix questioned teasingly Oh boy you guys had a long night ahead of you.

[lilith-lovett]

Found Families - Home is Where the Hart is - Chapter Four

Here is the fourth chapter, this one made me cry while writing. My heart truly goes out to Logan when I write stuff like this but angst is my life and I will never stop writing it but I love Logan really. I’m sorry this might be the last chapter for a little while though I still have a few pre-written as I am currently writing chapter seven but because of exams I will be extremely busy with studying so I apologise in advance for that.

Side Note: Both Madame Claire and Miss Maggie are both extremely old oc’s of mine of a book I scrapped a really long time ago.

Masterlist

Summary: The aftermath of Logan’s night with Madame Claire and Logan and Patton’s first official session.

Word Count: 3862

Warnings: Child abuse, physical description of injuries, nightmare mentioned, knife mentioned, bruises, mentions of skipped meals, self-deprecation, bullying. If there are any more I have missed please let me know.

Logan’s sleep was yet again disturbed by another nightmare. The only notifiable difference being Madame Claire’s looming presence throughout, merely a shadow in a dark corner awaiting the prime moment in which to reveal herself stealing him away to carry out untold horrors on him but once he returned to reality his nightmare didn’t end, still a prisoner within this Orphanage at the cruel mercy of it’s owner. He woke hours before the other boys as per usual but he lay awake as his precious book had been confiscated as a part of his punishment and currently sealed away in Madame Claire’s office, unable to find solace in it’s words and pages. His previous overbearing pain had dulled minimally, fading to a persistent ache across his entire body, though it gathered predominantly in his legs where the majority of the bruises were located on the backs of his thighs and calves making it virtually impossible to sleep without agitating his newly formed bruises. Their wake up call came as a rare blessing allowing him to at long last stretch out his aching body before dressing as quickly as humanly possible, catching a glimpse at his vivid bruises a combinations of deep purples and blue comparable to paint splatters on a canvas however they were not a beautiful display of artistic skill but the result of own ‘misbehaviour’ and Madame Claire’s hatred towards him.

Logan had never arrived to breakfast so early but the desolate dining hall, save for a singular matron observing him granted him no playful chatter, to drown out the voice of Madame Claire in his head echoing the same malice laced words again and again. Until they were engrained into his mind and body. You are never going to be adopted. He knew. Mr Hart was only speaking to you out of pity. He…knew. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody will ever love you. Nobody will ever…

“I know,” Logan whispered aloud. Wishing he could scream it and let it be known. Those words cut like the knifes his father collected and one by one plunged into his gut, hurting worse than the beatings ever could. Bruises and scars would fade along with the pain if treated correctly but words cut deep embedding themselves into his very foundation refusing to allow him to forget.

Logan stomach growled ravenously another result of his punishment. Though Logan’s portion sizes were arguably smaller than average, he made it a habit to eat something at every meal time whether that simply being a piece of fruit or half of whatever was provided that day but upon skipping dinner his body swiftly burned all of the minimal food he ate and begged for more substance contributing to a rather uncomfortable night. Porridge was on the menu once again but unfortunately the sweetness of the jam was unsurprisingly absent from his serving, despite his distaste for the tasteless slop he ate only to quench his raging hunger but once nearing the end he compelled himself to stop unwilling to break his own rules for something as trivial as a skipped meal.

Logan prepared to make his way to Maggie’s office, hoping for some pleasant distraction and perhaps a replacement novel for his confiscated one but the disadvantage of this would be that Maggie would surely take notice of his less than chipper mood and immediately inquire about it. It was in her nature to detect and attempt to fix any problems her students may be experiencing but Logan’s problem weren’t something that could be fixed so easily. Maggie disagreed with much of Madame Claire’s disciplinary actions but only saw a small fragment of what goes on out in the open but completely unaware of what occurred behind closed door. She wasn’t to blame. Until a matron Mrs Davis, who had formerly been overlooking the dining hall appeared in front of him blocking his path to Miss Maggie’s. He had no qualms with Mrs Davis other than her noisiness and habit of gossiping but today she was his worst enemy.

“Logan did you forget? Mr Hart is coming to see you today,” Mrs Davis chirped. Her high-pitched voice scraping painfully against his ear drums “Now, let’s go get you cleaned up for him,”. Mrs Davis turned on her heel and clopped down the corridor towards the communal bathroom, Logan following begrudgingly behind her. He had forgotten all about Patton’s promise to visit him again and his chest immediately tightened, growing progressively anxious by the second as he struggled to keep pace with her striding steps. Would Patton notice Logan’s inner war? Would he inquire about it? Or would he ultimately realise Logan wasn’t worth the effort?

Logan looked awful, even once he washed his face thoroughly, his skin looked paler than usual appearing ghost-like and hallow, a dark shadow played beneath his eyes displaying his lack of sleep but Mrs Davis didn’t seem to take any notice. Dragging the brush through his hair, the harsh bristles aggravating his scalp and straightening his clothing did little to alleviate his unease and considered fleeing to avoid the crippling awkwardness sure to arise but Mrs Davis had already took a hold of shoulder preventing him from disappearing to his room. He shrugged out if her grasp and followed obediently behind her as she lead him through the corridors towards the smaller play room where his session with Patton would be occurring. Breakfast had officially ended and as he was lead to the meeting room he sensed the resentful and envious glares of the other children surrounding him, blatantly belittling him at full volume allowing Logan to hear every spiteful word they spoke regarding him. Once they had passed the hostile glares of his fellow orphans, Logan felt much more at ease without their bitter gazes burning into his skull but as they arrived at the unoccupied meeting room - a condensed version of the much larger and frequently used common room - his hands had turned clammy as a lump formed in his throat and his stomach churned, immediately regretting how quickly he consumed his breakfast fearful of bringing it all back up.

Logan gravitated towards the reading nook but made no move to select a book, instead settling himself into the armchair plucking at loose threads disinclined to the thought of another bout of excessive, unnecessary rambling brought on by the topic of his book. Mrs Davis returned to her business once ensured that Logan wasn’t planning to disappear, she turned her back abandoning him to the deafening silence while he waited on Patton’s arrival. Resisting the urge to peek out of the window which would grant him optimal opportunity to prepare himself the moment he saw Patton approaching. Which was the sole reason for him watching out of the window for Patton. He moved towards the window nudging aside the curtains for a better visual hoping it would allow him some peace of mind but it had the opposite effect. His heart rate rapidly accelerated whenever anyone crossed the front gate and he couldn’t understand why. It wasn’t a matter of importance so why was it affecting him so? Logan would pose his question to Miss Maggie, who regularly aided him in figuring out possible explanations for his questions typically regarding the human psyche a less than favourable topic for Logan but one he was determined to master.

Logan continued watching out of the window until he saw a figure entering the Orphanage’s play ground - used predominately in the Summer months - from this distance taking into account Logan’s poor vision and incorrect prescription on his glasses, it was difficult to identify the figure but through deductive reasoning and the intensely bright yellow rain jacket the figure was wearing he could only assume that it was Patton, which only gave him a short while to prepare himself. He instantly hurried towards the reading nook however still making no move to select a book and collapsed onto the armchair, he hissed out in pain as the back of his legs and therefore his bruises made contact with the chair intensifying the throbbing pain spreading through his legs, crawling up his back and settling on his already tense shoulders but the sudden pain reminded him of Madame Claire’s warning.

Patton is only talking to you out of pity.

He doesn’t care about you.

Nobody cares about you.

The words swarmed his head but yet no emotion displayed on his face. Logan still had a chance to deter Patton from visiting him again. He could prevent him from making the worst decision of his life. He could still save Patton from himself. Despite the sharp pain in his chest and uncomfortable feeling in his belly he had already decided. Nobody deserved Logan; robotic, emotionless, unlovable Logan as a son. Especially not someone as good-natured, considerate and selfless as Patton. So he would spare himself the heartbreak now and everything would return to the way it was and he would be alone.

It was for the best, he thought.        

Patton felt giddy with excitement as he walked, a visible spring to his step the gift bag swinging at his side as he approached the front entrance of Madame Claire’s Home for Children, perhaps today he would meet the woman. Entering the foyer. he approached the front desk behind which a close-knit group of women he assumed were matrons gossiping to each other. A couple nursing hot drinks providing the foyer a pleasant odour of herbal tea but not before long his presence was noted and one of the woman advanced towards him. The woman appeared only a few years older than himself, mid length dirty blonde locks scraped back into a low bun and her lips painted red accentuating the blinding whiteness of her teeth, dressed modestly in an off-white blouse, a long deep navy blue cardigan secured with a single button at the waist and a near floor length black skirt, a welcoming yet overly wide smile stretched across her face.

“Hi there, my name is Mrs Davis and I am a matron here at Madame Claire’s Home for children. And you must be Mr Hart,” Mrs Davis exclaimed extending her hand out towards Patton which he took politely, waving also at the woman still gathered behind her.

“Yes, that’s me,” Patton replied bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, the anticipation was killing him.

“Good, I believe you are here to see Logan,” She said. Patton nodded a smile creeping onto his face. “Follow me please, he is waiting in one of our meeting rooms,” She came out from behind the desk and gestured for him to follow her down the corridor. He kept a steady pace only a step or two behind Mrs Davis allowing her to lead him as he had a hopeless sense of direction and would surely get lost. “Logan is wonderful boy, so incredibly intelligent but he is a bit different from the others,”.

“Different, how so?” Patton inquired.

“Well, he is much quieter than the others, a lot less social he rarely speaks to anyone,” She explained releasing a sigh. “I’m just glad someone is finally showing interest in him,”. The overly wide red lipped smile returning to her face.

Patton regarded the matron for a moment not failing to notice the subtle change in her expression and the dip in her tone while discussing Logan, something which to Patton implied it were these particular character traits which were frightening potential guardians away and others had purely given up trying. Surely irritating the matrons and from Mrs Davis’s response he deduced that she would be happier with Logan gone and with one less ‘difficult’ child to deal with. Patton bit his tongue, preventing him from disclosing these thoughts not wishing to upset or anger anyone and his focus would be to adopt Logan as soon as possible, taking him away from this place. So he simply nodded and smiled.

“He does have a bit of a temper though and…oh dear I do hope he hasn’t be rude to you,” She said startling Patton “He has a habit of that,”.

“Oh no not at all,” Patton said. Most probably would consider Logan’s behaviour and attitude yesterday rude but to Patton he was merely protecting himself. Patton was a stranger after all and from what he was hearing regarding Logan’s experiences in the past with potential adopters all of his actions were perfectly understandable. It would take time for Logan to fully open up but Patton was fully willing and prepared to take that time.

“Ah, that is a relief,” She sighed.

They spent the remainder of the journey in silence Mrs Davis presumably having exhausted her list of conversation starters and Patton wasn’t thrilled by the idea of conversing with the matron any further, instead mulling over potential thought-provoking questions to ask Logan which would send him off rambling and return the sparkle to his eyes. He smiled down at the gift bag hanging by his side. A child-like glee and warm sensation spreading throughout his entire body like a thousand newly born butterflies taking flight within his belly, like he was thirteen years old again and experiencing his first crush and that feeling made the seemingly never-ending corridor flash by in minutes.

Upon entering Patton noticed Logan sat motionless, almost rigidly in the armchair located in the far corner of the moderately sized room which appeared completely pristine and untouched; no toys strewn across the floor, books perfectly organised on the shelves, no visible stains from messy fingers but he spared no more than a thought towards the room and gradually gravitated to Logan. Nothing but a listless expression was visible on his face, his eyes glazed over as if he couldn’t see Patton at all. He looked like a doll. Skin pale - almost too pale - and unblemished, not a single hair on his dark head was out of place and his clothing in immaculate condition except for the tape secured around his glasses. It unnerved Patton how perfect he was and it wasn’t until Logan noticed his eyes firmly placed on him that his gaze darted away.

“Now I will come collect you in an hour, have fun you two and Logan make sure you behave for Mr Hart,” Mrs Davis said before returning presumably to the front desk to continue her gossip closing the door behind her leaving Patton with an unresponsive Logan.

Logan looked lost without his book in his hands, they twitched restlessly in his lap as if he were desperate to feel the smooth cover beneath his finger tips, tracing the words, wishing to disappear into the pages into a whole new world - Aladdin reference - but yet he remained in the chair making no move to select a book despite the shelves full of them surrounding him. The pitiful sight tugged at Patton’s fragile heart and desired only to wrap Logan in his arms and never let go but that would most definitely frighten him more. So, Patton made a promise to himself he would make Logan smile at least once before this session was up.

“Hiya kiddo, did you miss me?” Patton beamed at Logan lowering himself into the bright luminous green beanbag located beside Logan’s chair. He responded with an indifferent shrug. It wasn’t as yes but it wasn’t a no either so Patton took it as a success.

“Did you enjoy the rest of your birthday yesterday?” He asked to keep the conversation alive. Logan obviously wasn’t having a great day and Patton was determined to cheer him up.

“I guess,” Logan replied his voice low and gravelly as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. Score. His first verbal answer, a vague one but yet an answer nonetheless. They were communicating.

The majority of the session played out like his. Patton would fire open-ended questions towards him and every time Logan would counter it with a one word answer. When Patton ceased his fire of questions to simply observe how Logan interacted with his surrounding but he never moved from the chair. He merely remained in his chair glancing wistfully at nothing in particular. What happened to the boy who could barely tear his attention away from the page for a mere moment to entertain a stranger?

“You don’t have a book this morning?” Patton asked hoping it would provoke a response.

“No,” Logan replied.

“Why is that?” He questioned.

“I’m simply not in the mood to read,” Logan replied shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Is there something else you want to do,” Patton asked gesturing to the room filled with items to potentially stimulate Logan’s interest.

“No,” He said.

Patton’s shoulders dropped marginally in defeat. Well, there goes his perfect plan. He peered around the room pleading for something to appear which would interest Logan before his hand brushed against the gift bag, still sat by his side, he had completely forgotten about it too occupied with Logan’s unsettling behaviour to notice.

“Oh hey kiddo, I brought something for you,” Patton exclaimed revealing the gift bag previously hidden beneath the armchair. Logan took the bag with shaking fingers appearing as if in shock at the prospect of receiving a gift, his expression twisted into a combination of bafflement and awe a look which made Patton wonder how often Logan had received gifts or if he had ever received one at all.

“W-what is this for?” Logan asked stuttering slightly as he did, as if he were internally battling with himself struggling to maintain his mask of cool composure, a ghost of a smile creeping through the minuscule cracks in his stone cold persona.

“Well, it was your birthday yesterday so think of it as a belated birthday gift,” Patton said rocking back and forth of his heels in anxious anticipation watching as Logan fidgeted apprehensively with the gift bag as if fearful to open it without permission.

“Thank you Patton, I appreciate the sentiment,” Logan replied his eyes still firmly fixated on the bag in front of him. Patton’s heart swelled with joy, he had never met a more well-spoken and polite child with maturity levels far beyond his years. He was simply incredible and at hearing him say his name set off millions of butterflies within his stomach.

“Go ahead kiddo, open it,” Patton prompted realising Logan had been awaiting permission. Logan gingerly removed the tape sealing the gift bag before reaching a hand in unveiling the present. A pair of large black noise-cancelling headphones.

“So kiddo, what do you think?” Patton asked practically bouncing on his feet in excitement. The headphones had formerly been Virgil’s, his first ever pair of noise-cancelling headphones, he used particularly to help him sleep or whenever things got a lot to loud and believed Logan would greatly benefit from them also suggestive of his incident the previous day.

“I..I can’t accept this,” Logan said holding the headphones at a distance towards Patton as if expecting him to snatch them back.

“Why not,” He asked a hint of confusion lacing his tone but still made no move to remove the gift from Logan’s trembling fingers.

“I do not…deserve such a gift,” Logan replied averting his gaze to the floor forcefully shoving the gift into Patton’s chest. His words tore at Patton’s heart, who had broken this boy so badly that he did not believe he was worthy of kindness. Merely thinking about it made Patton want to have a little talk to whoever made Logan feel this way, civilly of course.

“And why is that?” Patton prompted hoping to draw the Logan out further so that he would once again witness the real him but he immediately retreated returning to silence presumably having had realised what he had said. “It’s okay I want you to have them, they were collecting dust anyway. They used to be Virgil’s he used them to help him get to sleep at night but he has a new pair now, Roman much prefers to blast his show-tunes for the entire neighbourhood to hear and Dee is far to young to be destroying his hearing just yet,”. Patton cautiously placed the headphones around Logan’s neck not wishing to alarm him, moving slowly like he did around Virgil allowing him to move away if he choose to but he didn’t. He permitted Patton into his personal bubble and Patton swore he saw some of the tension dissipate from his taut shoulders at the added weight around his neck yet his efforts were not enough for the real Logan to make a reappearance.

“Hey kiddo, would you like me to come to see you again tomorrow?” Patton asked failing to mask the hopefulness in his voice and he looked to Logan awaiting in anxious anticipation for his response. He simply nodded and Patton leapt to his feet in joy. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow Logan, I promise,”.

As if on cue Mrs Davis arrived signifying the untimely end of their session and Logan left calmly, without a single word his emotionless expression returning to his face. Putting on his armour and mask in preparation to face his fellow orphans whose glares and scorn burned into his skull and their malice fuelled whispers not escaping even Patton’s ears as if their hurtful words were meant to be heard. Their jealously and resentment towards him obvious. Patton couldn’t comprehend how children could be so cruel especially ones who have shared such similar misfortunes and yet they still chose to torment those who were different.

“Bye Logan!” Patton called out waving, much to the bafflement of the gathered crowd of orphans, towards Logan who paused at the sound of his name turning and returning the wave before disappearing down the corridor.

Progress.

Tag List:

@i-do-not-dislike-fudge @poems-art-darkness-n-more @alex-cain @amber1594

@darkrainbow333 @unofficialweatherguru

If you would like to be added or have any questions about the au please do not hesitate to ask.

I am also currently taking requests for shorts fics within the au.

[writermich18]

Good Omens Writing Prompt: AU Meets Canon

"Our Michael is a pyromaniac."

All conversations stop. The Canon characters - including Lucifer in human form - turn to stare incredulously at their AU counterparts.

"What." Canon Michael deadpans.

"It's true." AU Michael easily shrugs about it. Her voice was calm, rough, and low with a slight high undertone similar to AU Lucifer's own tenor voice. This Michael had wild, neck length red hair with it framing and mostly moving to the left. Any way you looked at it from any direction, it still looks as if it was constantly on fire. Sharp, but open and mischievous amber orange eyes with a red pupil. Darkly tanned skin marred with white, sometimes pink, scars. A prothestic left arm. Pointy ears with small blue hoop earrings (the same kind worn by BOTW Link and the same type of ears as Hylians). All of the AU Angels had those pointy ears and a different colored pupil other than black. The AU Demons all had round ears and black pupils. Baby cheeks but roughed by the weather and the streets, rough but circular jawline. Short nose. AU Michael was wearing an undershirt black sleeveless training turtleneck, a dark red and white tunic over that with Enochian and Celtic designs dancing on the hems and collar. Chest armor with one shoulder pad, armguards and fingerless black gloves with a metal plate on top of which the Army symbol was carved on. Dark blue leggings, armored skirt, shin guards, and black shinobi sandals. A tanto was strapped horizontally to her waist with a belt. Said belt had an assortment of other pouches and supplies attached to it. She had on a dark orange cloak with many Enochian and Celtic designs sewn on the back, hem, and collar. Dark red rope at the neck connected the two ends.

"I tend to blow shit up. Lucifer-nī tended to scold me for it," she remembers with a fond smile. "He still does, too." She adds.

"Because you keep shit up in Hell! It's already chaotic enough, stop adding to it!" AU Lucifer practically yells at her from his spot next to Canon Lucifer. Though his yell was more like a slightly louder normal voice. His voice was a smooth, tenor's voice with a rough low undertone similar to AU Michael's. There was a ghost of a tempting voice hidden somewhere in it. Long nose but it looked like it had been broken and reset a couple of times, most likely by Michael and then reset by a medic. AU Lucifer had just as wild hair as Michael but it was more in the way of stylishly curly mess than Michael's wild lioness mane of hair. It fell to his chest, unfairly stylishly, and dirty blond yet somehow shining in the natural light as if it was the fucking sun itself. High cheekbones, smooth jawline, but you could just tell that he was harsh to the touch at a closer look. Sharp, closed off silver eyes with a slit black pupil that still shined with its own inner light. Peach, pale skin. Round ears without a piercing. He wore a black high collar button up with a white silk tie and a black blazer with white lined hem and collar, white trousers, and black dress shoes. He looked put together but like he could easily destroy your life without a word.

"It just needs a little more fire, lighten the place up a bit."

"Says the soldier!" AU Luci sarcastically retorts.

"They're gonna be at this for the entire day so..." AU Uriel mutters. AU Uriel has a medium leveled voice, not high nor low pitched, it wasn't rough nor smooth. It had an emotional undertone, as in you could hear their emotions even when they were supposedly emotionless - comes with being the Archangel of the Arts (and yes, the Arts as in any type of art including philosophy), I guess. They were dark brown skinned person-being. Short, cropped black hair with some braided tiny buns burling along their head. Multi-colored eyes and pupil for the Arts is the element she maintains and is multicolored for its many aspects. Pointy ears with stud Anime character earrings (fan art is art) and multiple other ear piercings, and one lip piercing on the right side of their lips. Extravagant, cosplay style makeup painted their face into a beautiful canvas. They wore a high school's music shirt, with blue overalls - the overalls were painted on like a canvas as well - over the shirt, a utility belt filled to the brim with different artifacts all supplies from the different artistic areas. Old and worn galaxy styled sneakers finished their look.

"Stop it." Another voice pits in. AU Michael and Lucifer stop immediately and sulk as they refused to look at each other. Canon Aziraphale stared at his AU counterpart, the one who said stop it, as he has been since meeting her.

AU Aziraphale who apparently prefers to go by Ezra when she's on Earth doing her job. She, unlike him, was raised as a soldier practically her whole life. She never stopped training even when she was being Heaven's Earth agent. So she had muscles where he did not. He was chubby from eating while she was "chubby" from training and growing muscles - not really "traditional" chubby, chubby like a rolling torso and muscles. Not a bad thing but differently not something he's seen on his own body since becoming Heaven's Earth agent. Unlike him, she had a wild mane of white - white, not light blond - hair set up like AU Michael's with a slight difference in volume. Darkly tanned skin with scars and calloused hands and feet. Bare foot, dirty from walking on the ground. A nomad, she said she was. Didn't tend to stay in one place. Got antsy if she tried, like an enemy was going to pop in and kill her in her sleep because she's kept a predictable schedule. Sharp but almond shaped and kind amber orange eyes, red pupils like AU Michael's. Her Michael's adopted blood daughter, did the blood ritual to make it official for the papers. That explains the the fire colored streaks briefly seen flickering around and in her hair like actual embers, Canon Aziraphale thought faintly. She wore the same hoop earrings as Michael. Pointy ears. Baby cheeks but roughed by the weather and the streets. Ezra wore a black turtleneck like Michael, over which she wore a dirty blue button up with brown chest armor and a red wrongly tied tie. The sleeves were ripped up and turned into a short sleeve. She wore fingerless gloves with the metal plate that has Heaven't symbol on it. Wrapped around her waist was a plaid blue-and-black shirt under which was a utility belt with a assortment of book recovering supplies, a first aid kit pouch, and weapon pouches with another pouch, probably filled with more weapons, tied around her left thigh. Ruined at the hem, and torn dark blue pants covered her legs with multiple pieces of bandages and rough signs of frantic sewing on the pants. Her nails were somehow manicured, with only a few nails being mildly bitten. A nervous habit. She also apparently has a smaller version of Michael's pyromaniac tendencies - not a lot but enough to where even her superiors except her mother and Mother was afraid of pissing her off.

The rest of the Canon characters were also slightly unnerved and or intrigued by their respective counterparts.

Canon Adam was actually jealous of his counterpart because though he had an older sister, he didn't have a twin sister. Said AU Adam's twin sister was apparently essence adopted by AU Michael - meaning while her earthbound body made her the Young Family's daughter, her adopted-by-an-angel-and-ritually-claimed-as-Michael's-child soul, her essence, made her essentially Michael's daughter, meaning she got the benefits and consequences of being Michael's daughter. Which means AU Adam is not alone in the Child of an Angel department. Not only does he have a big sister in the form of AU Aziraphale - being Michael's angelic adopted daughter, related to AU Adsm through siblings Lucifer and Michael - but also a twin sister, related to AU Adam by 2 ways: sibling relation thus cousin relation for their children, and siblings through the Young Family, relations through earthbound body.

This situation they've all found themselves in will either end in hilarity or tragedy. All of them, except for the Chaos Trio (AU Michael, AU Lucifer, and AU Aziraphale), prayed for it to end in hilarity because another tragedy did not need to happen right now.

Ezra was just hoping for the Canon counterparts (and some of the AU counterparts) to never learn of the circumstances which caused her world's Michael to take her under her wings (literally and figuratively) and adopt her. That was a scarred past that should be buried and forgotten. Though she did want some chaos to happen.

AU Michael was also crossing her fingers and hoping people never found out about her ostracized and broken past which helped push her to help two damaged but not broken children. That was a wound too deep to heal without breaking someone else. Though she did want some chaos.

Lucifer just wanted chaos so that he could finally take that 32 hour long nap he's been meaning to take.

[hairylime]

Toy Story 4

The Pitch: Tom Hanks’ Woody and Tim Allen’s Buzz Lightyear are living in a post-Andy era with Bonnie (Madeleine McGraw), the sweet little girl that adopted them in the last movie. But as the years have passed, Bonnie has proven to be a different kind of kid than Andy. Buzz, Jessie (Joan Cusack), Mr. Potato Head (the late Don Rickles), Rex (Wallace Shawn), Slinky (Blake Clark), and most of the old favorites are still in rotation. Yet Woody seems to be stuck in the closet far more often than not. Horse opera’s retrograde these days, after all.

The Toy Story movies to date have served as exemplars of family storytelling, blending humor, heartbreak, sticky situations, and themes of growing pains. Toy Story 4 is no different, but it’s even busier than previous installments. In this adventure, Woody accidentally aids Bonnie in the creation of a new favorite toy named Forky (Tony Hale, with full Buster Bluth neuroses), becoming a de facto dad in the process. Meanwhile, Bonnie’s family gears up for a road trip, and the toys pass through a small town with a traveling carnival and an antique shop.

It’s at the shop that Woody runs into his old flame Bo (Annie Potts), a now-emancipated toy free to roam without a child. Woody also must negotiate with Gabby Gabby (Christina Hendricks), a ‘50s doll with an aura of longing and mannered malice about her. Plus there are new characters like a pair of plush toys with the voices of Keegan-Michael Key and Jordan Peele, Keanu Reeves having the time of his life as Canadian stuntman toy Duke Caboom, cameos from Mel Brooks and Carol Burnett … my goodness. And the jokes, the sight gags, the little zingers? It’s all pretty terrific.

Pixar Power: To be blunt: Toy Story 4 is critic-proof. The Disney monopolization of content is in full swing, and Toy Story 4 is a guaranteed smash IP with a massive built-in audience. Proven fans of the 25-year old franchise (some now bringing their own children, funnily enough) will see this baby and be satisfied no matter what the toys do. But thanks to Pixar writers Josh Cooley (Inside Out) and Andrew Stanton (Finding Nemo, Wall-E) working their magic, Toy Story 4 still manages to find joy in newness. New ideas, new sights, new humor, and new dramatics. And true to the series’ ethos, this is filmmaking as play, confidently balancing its game of cartoony chess.

Old characters manage to affect the things audiences have always liked about them, all while finding new wants and fears, such as Woody’s anxieties over his feelings of uselessness. Duke Caboom, while silly by design with his accompanying “Oh, Canada” music, still manages to sneak in a sense of lament as he tragically recalls his owner’s disappointment in Duke not being as exciting as the commercials. There’s also the joy of going to the fair without getting gunk on your feet. The fears of parenting, empty-nesting, growing up. And, of course, the feeling of having fun with your toys, so much so that you don’t want the time to end. The film moves in all of these meaningful directions by its end, nuanced and as heart-wrenching as ever.

Talking tough, and we’re trying our best in a mostly glowing review, but there’s really not much to protest here. Perhaps the running gag about Buzz Lightyear’s “inner voice” dumbing his astro-dude down? Didn’t he become grounded and not give in to flights of fancy after the first movie? Or what about the lack of screen time for some of the continually growing cast of characters? Or when the movie’s resolution dropped to 240p out of nowhere? (Just kidding on that last one; this is Pixar, and it’s every bit as lavish as that name promises.) All things considered, most complaints would be simple pettifogging for what’s otherwise a parade of great ideas and good vibrations.

Home From the County Fair, by Norman Rockwell: Go to YouTube for just a second, and look up clips from the first three films. It’s wild seeing what quantum leaps the animation has taken between each entry. That’s not to say the old ones look bad — the innovations of the original endure — but looking at Toy Story next to Toy Story 4 is like comparing Sock Puppet Theater to Norman Rockwell.

The antique shop is designed like a mix of The Shining and the ballroom in Beauty and the Beast. One minute there’s the creeping dread of an old shop’s cobwebs, electrical outlets and narrow shelves. The next, those spaces are offset with dazzling chandelier displays and stained-glass color schemes at a dusty micro-level.

You can see the rubber bumps on an old Godzilla, and appreciate the quality control in rendering. Buzz and Woody’s heads have never looked so plasticine … at least until the next movie. And the store and its surrounding carnival play within small town Americana, a kind of nostalgia that fits Toy Story 4’s themes of obsolesce and change.

Simply put, it’s quite the looker. Greetings from the Grand Basin, when you get there.

Parent Trap: One of the movie’s most ambitious new themes is parenting. Woody’s little stunt with Forky is an act of trying to help a child that goes far less smoothly than he’d hoped. It’s Bonnie’s first day of kindergarten, she’s about to lose it, and Woody gives Bonnie supplies from the trash to create Forky. The reasons are well-intended, but like rearing a child, the creation doesn’t go precisely as imagined.

Forky keeps retreating to the trash. He doesn’t understand concepts like, um, existence. He’s like a two-year old, constantly opening cabinets and perpetually in danger of hurting himself. Woody must protect him at all costs, for Bonnie’s sake. At one point, Woody suggests wearily that he didn’t think it would be so hard, and the sentiment is universal. It’s Toy Story 4’s best new idea, an age-appropriate one played up for gags and aches alike.

The Verdict: While the novelty will never be the same as it was the first time 24 years ago, curiosity and invention continue to be displayed in full force in the Toy Story movies. How’s this for praise: I left smiling. And that really counts, sometimes. In short, you get it. Seriously. You know the formula and frankly, it’s one of the best-working ones Hollywood still has: a fun-for-the-whole-family film. In a current market crowded with franchises and pricey theatrics, Toy Story 4 feels like a warm and welcome aside, spinning an epic yarn from an intimate vantage with all the amenities of Pixar’s supremely talented creators and animators. They’re still taking care of their toys with everything they have.

Where’s It Playing? To infinity and beyond, starting June 21st. If any of the last few Disney tentpoles are any indicator, this will be on over 4,000 screens. Like, Dumbo opened on 4,200 screens. This will be everywhere.