#a giant nerd

[one-true-houselight]

[id: a hasty two page comic. An invisible person says, "I've done it! I've rendered myself invisible with the power of science!" They then sing, "Save your vacant threats, I'm gonna dance around your wasted breath, I am Invisi-"

They are cut off by, still invisible, being hit by a hansom cab. They shout, "Ow!" /end id]

Look. This is the first of probably many silly Shadow Academy posts. The song 'Invisible' is a power bop that is only vaguely based on the book 'The Invisible Man' as it turned into commentary on social media and such. It slaps so hard.

The book is also very good and also extremely funny. Griffin is. So wild. And it was extremely funny to me to imagine him singing the song while doing his silly little invisible misadventures, so. Here ya go. Go listen to the song I'm so serious, then read the book.

[i-got-the-feels]

Listen people just need to let the picky eaters be!!!

[ecc-poetry]

BALANCE THE PARTY

social justice barbarian Never met a nazi they wouldn't punch. Never met a cop they wouldn't call a nazi. Treats the soft animal of their body like a lance to the heart of a tyrant. Their anger is a gift from God– it transubstantiates.

social justice necromancer Reads her history. Says their names. Goes through cemeteries leaving flowers, grave-borrowing tactics. Coaxes the spirits from their beds to let them dance; we realize we have always been beautiful.

social justice rogue Unplucks the landlord's tapestries at night. She covers her face, she code-names, wipes the prints from her hand after shaking. She's a lot. A blade in the dark that daylight can't soften. She hums a mantra called mission; it's all the warning you'll get.

social justice bard Makes his sincerity a lute and plucks fingers raw upon it. Has brass knuckles on the inside of his throat. Knows what to say to soothe the scared guy sleeping rough, to make the officer laugh instead of shove.

social justice druid Gives you grace and space to grow. Makes a weird balm to calm your hurts. Turns into a panther once a day dispensing courage; turns into a dove once a day dispensing peace. Serves the world from the half-empty vessel in their heart.

social justice warlock Sold her soul to do DEI for a Fortune 500 company. Walks each day through thicketed razors, carving footholds in a hill of glass. The job takes its pint of blood so slowly, it is possible to believe she doesn't feel it.

social justice paladin Always knows the words. Is afraid of what will happen if they forget them. It's not an excuse, but it is sandpaper, truths nailed into the shoebeds. They're implacable from the outside. They can't believe I would love them without their fury.

social justice cleric The people tell her, "Your mouth ruined our movement. You suffer in silence all the time–what's one more?" She believes in a love whose demands cut friends and enemies alike. She cleanses, sad surgeon. She is martyred twice. From the ground where her tears fall, a perfect flower grows.

social justice warforged Has a fuckin' truck!!! He rolls up to mutual aid and the people rejoice at his truck. He is become a mover of things, a Christ-bearer: mattresses and gasoline, the girl who needs a ride across the state. She says bless you, bless your truck, and his heart swells. He never knew he could be so needed.

social justice giant crab Strength +1. Intelligence -5. She is a crab. She has 13 hit points and claws for hands– but she can breathe water and air. She knows what the surface looks like from underneath. She carries wisdom in her crab body that the arc of the universe will always bend to rediscover. Don't you get it? That we all have gifts to give?

-elisa chavez

[leahafterdarkk]

Getting chomped or getting crushed ?

[sillysymbol]

some johns

[whatifitwasgttho]

boyfriends core (take these ocs away from me)

[kagoutiss]

was thinking the other day about how parasites are ganondorf’s solution for so many things. now cant unsee him being a massive nerd about parasites

[reborrowing]

bit of a handful

[paulkariyas]

↪ 02/18/2024 ― kreids & remps ( broadway hat: stadium series edition )

[politemagic]

Strip Club Owner!Vessel x Reader

feat. Bartender!III, Manager!II, and Bouncer!IV

attempted sexual assault, eepy boys to the rescue, comfort with Vessel, non-descript reader outside of wearing eyeliner and simply having hair (though no specified length), author has never been to a strip club

a/n: this is mostly unedited so I apologize in advance for any errors, I simply needed this to stop haunting my drafts. it was intended to be a blurb but... uh.... I might have gotten a little carried away.

2.4k words

No one's ever seen the owner of the Pink Pony Club, there's a name listed on their business certificate and an owner's office tucked away in the corner, and the light is on six nights a week. Some of the regulars have caught a glimpse of his shadowed figure slipping out the back door, but they'd never know for sure it was even him. Most business in the club was conducted through the general manager, II. He hired the dancers and the staff, running final decisions through the mysterious owner, Vessel. Every night II keeps a watchful eye on the floor of the club, reporting back to Vessel throughout the night.

On this particular night though it was the bartender, III, who caught the commotion at the far end of the bar. The pristine white suit jacket caught III's eye instantly, the only customer to come in wearing such a bright white was some Wall Street scumbag who was already on his second strike at the club. He watched a streak of white as the asshole reached out to grab onto one of the dancer's arms as they walked by, yanking them back to stand in front of him.

III clocked the startled look in their eyes, the panic in their eyes was accentuated by their heavy eyeliner, giving them a similar look of a deer caught in the headlights. It was only their second week at the club, and he could tell by their reaction that this was the first time they'd encountered a more aggressive customer. III grabbed the walkie talkie from behind the bar, radioing for II to come to the bar, but got no response.

Shit. He's probably on his smoke break. III thought to himself.

He glanced back over, seeing the man's hands running along their waist, fingertips digging into their sides in a tight grip, evidenced by the wince on their face as he pulled them closer, their nose crinkling at his rancid breath. III tried calling II one more time, eyes trained on the pair at the end of the bar as he watched their attempts to wriggle from the man's hold. When he saw the anger in the man's eyes, he knew he couldn't sit around and wait for II's response.

III quickly signaled to the other bartender to watch the end of the bar while he slipped out, his long strides carrying him to the back office in seconds, knocking rapidly.

The door cracked open, a chain keeping the office door from opening all the way, when Vessel saw his best bartender bouncing on his heels at the door he raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Fucking Kingpin's back." He explained. It was a nickname Vessel himself had coined after the main villain in the Daredevil comics, known for his pristine white suit.

"II?" Vessel asked.

"Not answering."

"What's he doing this time?"

"Got his hands on Y/N." He stated quickly.

A dark cloud passed over Vessel's eyes. If there was one thing about Vessel, it was that he genuinely cared about his employees. He knew they exposed themselves to a certain amount of risk by working at the Pink Pony, and he would stop at nothing to make sure they were safe under his supervision. It was why they'd hired on a new bouncer not too long ago after business started picking up. IV was a retired rugby player, and had no issues literally tossing drunk assholes out onto the street.

"Where." It was more of a growl than a question. He'd approved their paperwork only a few weeks ago, remembering how II described them.

"End of the bar."

The door slammed shut, and III heard the chain sliding out of place before Vessel's looming from appeared in the doorway, brushing past III as he made his way to the bar. He watched as Kingpin's head dipped into the crook of their neck as they tried pushing him away again, and he was seeing red.

"Hey!" He barked, stalking closer to the two at the end of the bar, Y/N's face melting into one of relief at the owner's appearance. When Kingpin didn't move, his lips grazing the skin of their throat as they tried to squirm away, Vessel closed the distance in three easy steps, his hand forcefully yanking his shoulder back and effectively separating at least his mouth from the newest dancer.

"There an problem here?" Kingpin slurred, clearly not registering the pure ire on Vessel's face.

"Yeah. There's a fucking problem. Get your hands off my dancer." He growled, eyes flicking to where the man's hands still gripped Y/N's body, dangerously close to their ass.

"D'worry, I'm good to pay." He said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

"Afraid you're looking for services we don't offer here." Vessel sneered, his grip tightening on the man's shoulder, a flicker of pain flashing across his face.

"I'm willing to pay extra for this one..." The predatory grin on Kingpin's face had Vessel setting aside his good business sense and shoving the man from the stool, releasing his grip on Y/N in the process.

In an instant, IV appeared behind Vessel. Vessel glanced over his shoulder at the bouncer before just giving a simple nod of his head. Iv wasted no time in leaning down, grabbing the man by the lapels of his jacket and hoisting him to his feet. He yanked him forward before stepping behind him, a firm hand on his collar as he ushered him to the exit.

Vessel could hear Kingpin's protests, but one glance at IV proved that the situation was handled as he forcibly shoved him out the door, landing flat on his face against the sidewalk. If he'd been paying closer attention, he probably would have seen the way that IV spat at (not on, he was a professional after all, but that didn't mean he didn't have a distaste for drunk sleaze balls) him before slamming the door shut.

But Vessel's attention was on Y/N in an instant, checking them over for any visible injuries. His stomach lurched at the sight of the red mark against their collarbone, and he reached out a hand, which they hesitantly accepted before Vessel led them back to his office. As he passed the bar, he gave III a thankful nod before stepping aside to let Y/N into the solace of his office.

When the door closed behind him, the thumping music of the club faded to the background, and Y/N couldn't help the tears that sprang in their eyes.

"Are you alright?" Vessel asked in a surprisingly gentle tone, given the events that had just transpired. They nodded their head weakly, not wanting the owner to think they couldn't handle the job. But as a rebellious tear slipped down their cheek, Vessel slowly took a step forward to tentatively reach a hand out to cup their cheek, his thumb wiping the tear away.

"Are you alright?" Vessel repeated, voice barely above a whisper as they observed the dancer's delicate state. He remembered the way II described them, how upon meeting them he was unsure because of their gentle demeanor, yet watching them on stage he had seen a completely different person. They'd said this would be their first official dancing job, and imagined they'd yet to face some of the harsher realities of their position.

When they shook their head, he slid his hand along the side of their face to cup the back of their head, bringing them forward into a tight, comforting embrace. Their face fell into his shoulder, and he could feel their hot tears seeping through the material of his shirt as he stroked their hair gently.

After a moment they tugged their face away, and he let his arms fall to his sides as they stepped back, wiping the smudged eye makeup from underneath their eyes.

"Sorry, I'm just... He caught me off guard. That's all. I'm fine." They said, though the slight waver to their voice told Vessel differently.

"Are you sure?" He asked gently, tilting his head as he took in their quivering appearance.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Promise." They said quickly and Vessel just shook his head.

"You don't look fine to me, sweetheart." He didn't miss the slight panic in their eyes as he passed them to open his desk drawer.

I'm getting fired. He doesn't think I can handle this and he's going to fire me.

"Let me take you home." He said, and they shook their head furiously as he produced a set of car keys from the drawer.

"No, really. I'm fine. I got this." They said, trying to reassure him despite the new tears threatening to spill down their cheeks. Vessel sighed, setting the keys down on the desk to stand in front of them once more. He slowly reached his hands out to grasp their bicep, giving them time to flinch away, but when they didn't he squeezed them comfortingly.

"Sweetheart, it's okay. It's an unfortunate aspect of the business, it's happened to everyone," he says with a deep sigh. "It's okay to be scared, uncomfortable, whatever you're feeling. What isn't okay is you trying to pretend it didn't bother you. No one will think any less of you for wanting to go home, least of all me. It's part of my job to look after you, and that's what I'm doing." Vessel finished, looking deep into their eyes as they slowly nodded their head.

"I can't, I can't afford to-"

"That wasn't my question," Vessel interrupted. "Now, do you want me to take you home?" he repeated and his heart squeezed as he watched them bite down on their bottom lip, nodding their head shyly. A small smile crossed his lips, pleased that they were willing to accept his offer.

"Alright. Go get changed, pack up your stuff, I'll meet you by the back entrance." He said, his hands sliding down their arms to squeeze their hands encouragingly.

He'd spotted II back on the floor and gave him a quick rundown of the situation, explaining that he'd be back in a little bit. About fifteen minutes later the back door swung open, Y/N standing in their comfortable change of clothes and, as promised, Vessel was standing right outside the entrance. He leaned against the wall, scrolling through his phone until he heard the familiar squeak of the hinges.

He slipped his phone into his pocket, a gentle hand on the small of their back as he guided them to his black sedan parked in the alley. He opened the passenger door, ushering them inside before closing it and jogging around to the driver side.

He had them type their address into his phone, driving in silence save for the classic rock radio station playing softly through the car's speakers, street lights illuminating Y/N's face as they leaned their head back against the headrest, fidgeting with their fingers.

"If it's any consolation, you're not the first dancer I've driven home after an incident like that." Vessel said quietly as the traffic light turned green.

"Really?" Y/N asked meekly.

"Really."

"So... You don't think I'm completely pathetic?"

"Of course not," Vessel stated firmly, glancing at them out of the corner of his eye, hesitating before continuing. "I know what it feels like."

Y/N couldn't hide their surprise at his revelation. "You do?" they asked, Vessel nodding his head.

"Why do you think I want to take such good care of my dancers? I was not so lucky, the first time anyone ever grabbed me like that... The owner just told me to suck it up because it's part of the job. But I don't believe that."

"I had no idea that you used to dance."

"It was something that wasn't a pleasant experience for me, because of the place I worked in. Customers could get away with just about anything for the right price. When I bought the Pink Pony, I wanted the experience to be different."

"Wow..." They mumbled, looking at him closely now. They'd obviously noticed how attractive the owner was in their brief meeting, but they hadn't considered the fact that he had ever been something other than just a businessman.

"So, really. It's okay to need to go home. I wish I had been given the same offer."

"I'm so sorry. I... Thank you." they said sincerely, and that small smile reappeared on his face.

"Of course. It won't be reflected on your paycheck, either. I don't want you feeling like you have to suffer just to make ends meet."

Fresh tears sprung up in their eyes, their heart melting for the man across from them. How could someone be so kind and generous, yet work in such a sleazy business? His heart was too pure for what he'd been through, he didn't deserve to be put through that kind of suffering. They reached a hand out to lay atop of his hand resting on the gear stick, squeezing gently.

"Thank you, Vessel." They said softly, and he turned his hand over, squeezing back.

"It's never a problem, Y/N."

The rest of the ride was quiet until they pulled in front of Y/N's apartment complex, Vessel shifting the car into park and turning to look at them.

"D'you want me to walk you to your door?" He asked, and they really thought the fondness in their heart for him couldn't grow any stronger.

"No, no it's alright. I can do this part by myself." they said. They smiled sweetly at him before gathering their bag into their lap, hesitating for a moment before leaning over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Vessel froze, the simple gesture unexpected but not unwelcome. They didn't give him a chance to say anything else, popping the passenger door open and clamoring out of the sedan. They leaned down, resting their weight against the door.

"Good night, Vessel. Thank you again, I feel very lucky to have someone like you looking out for me."

"Always." he replied, watching carefully as they shut the door, walking quickly to the front door of their complex and unlocking the door. Just before they stepped inside, they turned, smiling to see that he was still watching and offered a small wave. He waved back, waiting until they had disappeared into the elevator to shift back into drive, getting ready to return to the club.

The next day, Y/N couldn't hide their surprise as they found a small bouquet of flowers sitting at their normal spot in the dressing room. They asked the other dancers, who said that they'd already been there when they arrived. When they looked closely, though, they found a small notecard reading simply

We're lucky to have you, too.

[heyyesimtrash-whatofit]

A portrait of a boy torn appart by time itself

Marty McFly: the World’s First Human Time Traveler

(Rambles and alt-colors under cut)

For as long as I’ve loved Back to the Future, I’ve never done any art for it. Is part of the reason for that Marty’s dang hair and the fact that I could never get it right? Maybe. But! In light of me getting tickets to go and see the BTTF Musical on tour with my (equally as big of a nerd) father, I was hit with a vision and just had to draw it. So here we are, the boy torn by time himself, Marty “The World’s Coolest Loser” McFly.

Honestly very proud of this piece. I learned how to fake holographics in a 2D piece, render lightning, and draw Marty’s stupid hair all in the span of creating it and I’m glad to say I now have those skills under my belt. Expect more BTTF alongside my recent Gatsby obsession and slowly returning LSOH adoration. See you in the future! 🎸⚡️⏰

Non B&W photo version and Plain Marty cause I’m proud:

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #32)

Chapter #32. Alexander has a new obstacle in his way: Charles. Will he find a way to get rid of him or will he be surprised by what he finds?

Previous: Chapter #31

Next: Chapter #33

Word Count: 7,671 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #32: An Uneasy Alliance

[Alexander’s POV]

The warmth from her hand still lingered along my back and over my chest where she’d planted her thumb. A cool rush of air replaced her touch as she set me back on my feet on the lacquered table’s surface. She’d leaned in, her teasing whisper rustling my hair as she ran her finger over my chest before I’d batted it away.  My heart usually beat to a faster rhythm whenever I was plucked up or put down. That was the natural consequence of sudden, vertical movement, after all. So why was it still knocking at my ribs now that I was settled? My face felt flushed and hot, my hair askew, and I could tell my shirt was twisted around my body at an unflattering angle, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers. 

When she’d held me in her palm, gliding her fingers over my body, she’d trained her gaze on me in such a manner that it suddenly became difficult for my lungs to take in air. What was she thinking? Why was she looking at me like that? Why hadn’t she stopped, now that she’d released me from her grip? 

I wanted nothing more than to be able to read her mind and to keep my own from racing far beyond the bounds I was comfortable with. 

As she gazed down at me, seeming to tower a mile above despite being no more than a foot or two away, I felt completely rooted to the spot; a sensation, in any other instance, I would feel deeply resentful towards. She’d called me incredible, brave… I’d choose to ignore the mention of adorable… for now. 

As my thoughts swam, she tucked her chin into the heel of the hand I’d just occupied, and for some reason, I didn’t mind that she held me captive with her gaze. In fact, I couldn’t help but notice her other hand, which rested just out of my reach on the table beside me. Did her finger and thumb twitch when I glanced at them over my shoulder? 

There went my heart again, leaping into my throat. What was this feeling? Was something wrong with me? Was I on the verge of getting sick? I felt lightheaded and unsteady on my feet.

I clenched my jaw. I hated being out of control of my physical response to outer stimuli.

Just as the corner of her lips raised the smallest fraction of a smirk, and the hand that was far too close and much, much too far away at the same time, shifted toward me ever so slightly, we both heard the echo of distant footsteps from down the hall. I wondered if they sounded as thunderous to her as they did to me, as they practically throttled me from this kinetic moment of connection and snapped me back to my dissatisfactory reality. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my shoulders rise towards my ears as the chill I’d just observed across my body boiled over and my head rushed with heat. 

Not him again. 

For a few blessed moments, I’d forgotten about him entirely. 

His clattering footfalls made my jaw ache as my scowl deepened. Wasn’t it time he let us be? What was he here for, anyway? What business did he have in continuing to disrupt our routine? 

Heat continued cascading off of me in palpable, fluctuating waves as he appeared in the threshold of the kitchen. I deeply regretted the lack of another sharp object to ward him off. 

As he crossed toward us, growing ever larger within my field of vision, I hated that I could feel the impact of his wooden soles on the linoleum floor as they rattled the table ever so slightly. The passage of his body through space rustled my hair and filled my nostrils with that infuriatingly sharp scent of soap and cinnamon.

I set my jaw, craning my neck to maintain my icy stare, refusing to flinch as he cast a shadow over me. 

The awkwardness was palpable, each of us testing the waters after the storm had ceased. As the man in the bloodied sweater returned to his seat, in the very same position where I had berated him for his ignorance just minutes ago, I could see in the depths of his eyes that a thought was percolating within him. Just what it was, I couldn’t be sure. I jumped at the chance to control the conversation, before he could get a word in. 

Squaring my shoulders and tipping my chin, I raised my voice to reach him, “So, did we learn something from our time out?” 

“Alexander!” 

“Naw, he’s right… You did kinda send me to the corner, Nat!” The man flashed a smile at her. Damn. He took that in a far better stride than I’d hoped. I felt his eyes descend on me again. I couldn’t help a subtle snarl curling the corners of my mouth. He continued, “To answer your question: yeah. I had some more time to think, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again. You really kinda put me in my place back there and helped put things into perspective. I guess I can see how hard it must be for you to feel like people ever hear you or take you seriously. I get wanting that, and being pretty defensive about it.” 

Spare me the lecture… and, besides, it took you long enough, dimwit. Although I had to admit, this slightly more enlightened Charles gave me less cannon fodder for verbal volleys and I was left rather disappointed. I’d just need to search more closely for a slip up. 

He cleared his throat, snapping me from my inner thoughts and cast a glance at the woman to my left, nodding slightly as though going through a routine they’d rehearsed together. Slowly, he presented his closed fist, palm upwards, to me. I hated that it was bigger than my entire body. 

As if of their own accord, my features twisted into a scowl. 

The encroaching hand stopped a bit too close for comfort as fingers unfurled to reveal a metallic object, thin, rigid and embarrassingly small in the center of his palm.

 I flashed my gaze upwards to read his expression, only to be greeted by a pathetic excuse for a smile. He was clearly unsettled: good. 

Life would be considerably better if all humans responded that way to me. 

I could feel his bespectacled eyes still trained on me, as he wrestled with himself to speak, “… Go on… you can take it… I won’t bite.” 

“Thank you for granting me permission!” I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I hoped the implication that I would be more than happy to use my teeth as a negotiation tactic was clear enough to go without saying. 

He stole a glance at Natalie, who to my great satisfaction, gave him no respite and simply raised her brows and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say: You deserved that. Points for Natalie. 

Taking advantage of the fact that his gaze was temporarily elsewhere, I leaned forward, arching my body to avoid touching him, and snatched the cane from his palm. The metal was warm to the touch and a bit damp.

Disgusting. 

I couldn’t help but scowl. 

I pulled back as quickly as I’d lunged forward, taking the object with me. I had no desire to be within reach of this human I still saw as an adversary. 

I’d hoped he would jump in surprise at my sudden movement, but to my utter frustration, it seemed he didn’t even notice it was gone. Was its weight really that negligible to him? 

Without thinking twice, I held the cane by its grip, extending its arm along the length of his little finger. And with a precise swiftness, I raised the mobility aid and cracked it down on the tip of his pinky, where the nerves were dense and sensitive. 

That certainty got his attention.

“Ow!!” He whisked his hand away, pinching his injured digit between finger and thumb. He looked pathetic like that. Cowering before a man a fraction his size. I loved it. He stared down at me with a grimace, “What was that for?!”

“Clumsy me!” I shrugged, doing my best to hide the smug smile that threatened to paint my features. I tapped my right ankle with the heel of the cane, “This damned leg makes it hard to balance, sometimes!” I flashed him a devilishly angelic grin. 

Charles’ eyes widened, before his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked as though he was about to speak, but then chose not to engage. That was the correct choice. 

At the same moment, Natalie cleared her throat. I knew precisely what look of disapproval awaited me before I turned over my shoulder to see it for myself. I stared unflinchingly right back at her, my hand upon my hip, my brow arched to provoke a challenge. 

She knew better than to test her willpower against mine, and looked to the man nursing his finger as though it’d just been sliced from his hand. 

“So—“ she was desperate for a subject change, but lacked the imagination to pull it off. 

I could help with that! 

“So!” I butted in, flourishing with my free arm over my head to garner attention, since, of course, my voice would never manage to top hers no matter how much I yelled, “—So, did your intrusion have an overarching purpose or will you be leaving now?” I took a few steps toward him, neck craned to meet his gaze. His jaw hung open slightly, looking completely incredulous. 

“Alexander!” She chastised. 

“Natalie!” I bit back. 

“You can’t just ask people to leave the second they come over!” 

“He’s been here for over an hour, that’s more than enough for a social call!” 

There was a slight rattle from the table as the man in question threw his hands up, “Hold on a second. Look, I know this is all my fault…” Correct. “...Barging in here unannounced…” Exhibit A.”... Condescending to your house guest who has the brains of a scholar and the soul of a possessed Chihuahua…” Exhibit B. Deemed admissible, as it was not altogether inaccurate. “...And now I’m making things worse by sticking around when I’m clearly not wanted…” Bingo! Exhibit C. Idiots were capable of learning after all!

I cleared my throat and smiled, “Well, perfect! I’m glad we can see eye to eye on this. It’s been far from a pleasure! Goodbye!” I waved generously, about to turn my back on him, when—

“No, no, wait! Hear me out!” 

UGH! My shoulders slumped as I turned regretfully back to face him. 

“... Look, I get that I have some, well, a lot of making up to do. The second I laid eyes on you I just saw what I wanted to see. I saw your size first, and nothing else. You don’t like me. I get it. You’ve made that abundantly clear. And, I admit, I made a pretty bad first impression. But… listen, I’m still Natalie’s friend. She’s been there for me through some really tough times and, like it or not, now she’s kinda stuck with me. The whole reason I let myself in was just to check on her, since she hadn’t been to class for a long while and wasn’t responding to my messages. I’m sorry for taking you by surprise and, well, you know, not taking you seriously. But, if you’re a part of her life now, I wanna be supportive of that. Like, truly supportive. You know?” Why did I feel a sharp dig in the pit of my stomach when he mentioned how close they were? And anyway this was all saccharinely sentimental. Was he done yet? “... So… let me make it up to you. Let me help!” 

My brow furrowed and I turned to catch Natalie’s equally confused expression. I addressed him while he fished for something in his pocket, “What help? We don’t need your–” 

Before I could finish, his gigantic fist presented itself before me once more, unfurling massive fingers until it spilt its contents on the table’s surface. 

A cascade of cardboard and leather, leaflets of paper, and spines cracking on wood pierced my ears. Tumbling out of his hand was a pile of my notebooks, perhaps half a dozen, filled cover to cover with copious notes. 

********************************

I watched the scene play out between my dear friend and the little man on the table as if from behind a screen. As soon as Charles’s hand returned to his lap and the tiny mountain of miniature journals settled at the equally miniature man’s feet, I found myself feeling just as confused as before. 

Alexander, however, always quicker on the draw at, well, pretty much everything it seemed, was already opening his mouth to respond, his little chest puffed as his face turned red. 

Charles had clearly anticipated this, raising his hands up defensively, “Wait, wait, wait! Before you get mad. I didn’t read them! I– I couldn’t��� the writing is… uh, well, you know…” Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow, his lips tight and tense, pressuring Charles to continue, “Well, okay… one of the diagrams you’d drawn matched Nat’s open notebook, so I put two and two together… but the more I thumbed through, I could tell with how filled up these things are and all the tabs and creases and notes in the margins, you aren’t just regurgitating Nat’s lectures here. When I saw these at first, and, pardon my ignorance, but I was just kinda amazed that it seems like you’re studying as much as she is. Like, is that why she wanted to keep you a secret? Are you the one that’s helping her bump her grades up? But, the way you spoke, when you were tearing me a new asshole, which I deserved… You were using legal jargon. You were cross-examining me. It was… You knew way too much for someone who’s just been sitting at Nat’s elbow and learning secondhand from some out of context online courses. These aren’t class notes. They’re case notes, aren’t they? You’re working on something, aren’t you?” Charles’s eyes were ablaze. He was enthused at having solved a mystery, yes, but I could see a certain respect, an admiration even, for one student of the law to another. 

The flush of blood that had risen to Alexander’s cheeks had now drained and he looked pale, and almost frightened. It was a version of him I hadn’t seen since those days right before and after the surgery. He looked caught, wary, defensive, as though the top had been blown off all his well-kept secrets. Remembering how hesitant he’d been with me to share his past legal studies, I understood his dilemma. 

He couldn’t have any random human he didn’t know or trust yet knowing about his intentions, his ambitions, his goals. What if they found a way to use his greatest wishes against him? 

Poor Alexander. 

I suddenly remembered that fateful afternoon where I’d reached for him and he’d collapsed into himself, quaking, as though I was going to beat him within an inch of his life. His road to get here had been far from easy. That much was obvious. He had every right to decide what he would and wouldn’t share. 

I watched as tiny fingers searched to trace his lower lip. How I loved that funny little habit of his. 

Charles relieved him of the obligation by cracking a smile and with a terrible attempt at a British accent, quoted, “All right, then, keep your secrets…” 

Alexander’s head whipped up, brow deeply furrowed, mouth tight and downturned. He’d completely missed the reference Charles was making. It was clear he thought he was being made fun of. A cardinal sin in Alexander’s book, I knew. 

Before I had a chance to clarify and save him from earning another battle scar, Charles swooped in to damage control, trying to explain, “Aww, c’mon, man! Frodo? In that opening scene in the first movie?” 

If the little man on the table had articulated ears they would’ve shot forward at this moment. 

Little nerd. I told ya you two had more in common than you think. 

Charles continued, “Look, I figured with how big a fan Nat is, she would’ve forced you to watch the extended editions of all the films at least ten times by now!” 

Alexander’s blue eyes widened to perfect circles, as his voice pitched higher than normal, “Th-There are… M-” He cleared his throat, furrowing his brow and attempting to play it cool, continued, “Uh, ahem, I mean… They made movies out of the books?” Oh my god what a fanboy. 

“Well… Yeah! Dude, you’ve been here with Nat for how long?” Charles whipped to me, eyes aglow with that mischievous gleam I’d always admired in him, “You’ve had him how fuckin’ long and you’ve NEVER shown him the best cinematic journey of our modern times?!”

My face flushed,  “I… What? Don’t look at me like that! C’mon, cut me some slack! We’ve been just a little bit busy!”

“Nat! What the hell is wrong with you? You HAVE to show him. What have you been doing all this time? OH! We could all do a marathon again! I could bring over my deluxe editions! Remember? Your Freshman year? We stayed up until 9 am the next morning watching every extended edition back to back…” 

“Oh my GOD! Yes!” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about that entirely, “I had to time all my pee breaks for whenever Boromir was onscreen… I don’t care that he got a valiant death, fuck that guy!” 

“And remember that dude you were kinda into? The one with the weird hair? He kept doing a Gandalf voice for every goddamn line–” 

“It wasn’t even GOOD! Major turn off! I did not like him after that night!” 

“Yeah, fuck that guy!” Charles raised his glass to cheer me. 

“EXCUSE ME!!!” A tiny yet commanding voice cut our reminiscing short, “We are glossing over an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT DETAIL HERE! Can we  get back to what actually matters?! You’re telling me that humans have made motion picture films of J.R.R Tolkien’s master work? As in, an actual visual depiction of the stories? Is it all of them?”  “--Well, we don’t acknowledge the existence of the Hobbit movies…” Charles raised his brows and took a swig of his, undoubtedly by now, watered down drink. 

“Shut up! They’re not THAT BAD!” I brushed him off before resting my chin on my forearm to get closer to the little man on the table, “Yes, Alexander, they made movies of all the books–” 

“WHY HAVEN’T YOU SHOWN THEM TO ME?!” Poor thing, he was beside himself. 

“Wait, Alex, have y–” 

With the ferocity of a snarling beast, the little man’s head whipped to the right, his tiny pointer finger jabbing the space between his form and Charles. Without missing a beat, he snapped, “Alexander. My name is Alexander!” He spoke in a condescending tone, slowly and with emphasis as though speaking to a particularly idiotic child, “Not Alex. Not Al. Not Xandy…” He spit that one directly at me with a fire from the depths of his tiny soul, “Al-ex-an-der.” 

“Woah, o-kay. Seems I hit a nerve there. Sorry, Alexander. What I was gonna ask was, have you actually read the Lord of the Rings?” 

I expected Alexander to berate him again, but, instead he broke out into hysterical laughter. Charles looked completely baffled, wondering what he’d said to get such a reaction, “H-Have I read Lord of the Rings? You poor ignorant bastard! What sort of a question is that?” His laughter suddenly ceased and he became gravely serious, “Give me any of the battle cries within the canon. From the siege of Minas Tirith, to the Battle of Erebor, I can quote it for you, verbatim.” The tiny man, somehow looking far more sophisticated than the sweatpants and shirt he wore, had now settled into a profound aura of self righteousness, lips pursed, brows knit. He may never be able to beat someone big like Charles in hand to hand combat, but this was his alternative to throwing down the gauntlet. 

He was hungering for a way to show off. 

Little Nightmare. I couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. 

“He’s not messing around.” Charles shifted in his seat, clasping his hands beneath his chin, before leaning forward and smirking, “Okay, sir: Theodin. Battle of Helm’s Deep. Go.” 

“Ha! That’s far too easy! And, technically, its official name is the Battle of Hornburg. That’s a common misconception. An easy mistake to make, of course, for an amatuer fan.” 

Charles’s jaw dropped in playful shock, “Did he just call me an–” 

Before he could finish, Alexander proudly recited the speech, word for word, beat for beat, with an ease and a grace known only to someone with total confidence in what he was doing. 

My heart melted into a puddle at my feet. 

“Oh my fucking god…” Charles burst into a grin. “That was awesome!” He offered his fist to bump and Alexander just sort of leaned in the opposite direction, regarding the hand hovering before him with distrust and confusion. 

Sensing he was lost, I tried to help, “You’re supposed to bump it, with your fist, like this!” Demonstrating, I pressed both of my fists together. 

Alexander’s eyes sunk behind their lids in an expression of exasperated deadpan, “Why on earth would I do that? You look stupid!” 

“Awww come on, man. That was cool as shit. I’m not even sure if I know that whole speech just off the top of my head. You clearly know your shit. I respect that.” 

I watched for the receiving end’s microscopic movements, the tensing of his jaw as he tried to hide the ghost of a smirk that dared to present itself. Doing his best to play it cool, he swallowed, rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pressed his clenched fist against the knuckle of the much larger man’s. 

Satisfied, Charles pulled away and took another swig of his drink, before addressing me, “So, did you–?”

“Oh! Me? No, no. I take no credit for any of the brilliance you see before you. He just showed up in my pantry one day exactly like that.” I leaned down again to look the little nightmare in his eyes, only to discover the surface of the table seemed suddenly deeply intriguing to him, “He’s way better read than either of us. He's quick to remind me of that on a daily basis.”

That made him smirk in spite of himself. Halfway joking and halfway with complete sincerity, he met my gaze and sighed, exasperated, bringing back an argument we’d had at least ten times before, “How are you a college graduate and you don’t know who Aeneas is?! What’re they teaching you?!”

“See what I mean?” I gestured broadly to the little blue eyed menace. 

Charles enjoyed quite a laugh at my expense. Ugh, now I had two mega-nerds to gang up on me, fantastic, “Well, clearly we can all appreciate some good storytelling, so... For real, I’m serious about bringing the movies over. You, of all the nerds, deserve to see them!”

Alexander paused, deciding whether this was acceptable to him or not. He brushed his bangs from his eyes before finally addressing the man towering above him, “... I suppose I’d tolerate your presence again under those extremely limited circumstances. Though don’t misconstrue this as some sort of alliance. I still hold you in disdain.” 

“Awww, not even after the Tolkien bonding moment?” Charles jokingly pouted with a quivering lip, as Alexander gave him the hardest stare a pair of eyes at that scale were capable of making. The larger man dropped it with a sigh, “Alright, fine. But, hey, no one said you had to like me for me to try and help. I’m not kidding about that ‘totally not a case’ you have going on. Let me do what I can to move the needle. I mean, I’ve already passed the bar and am working towards landing a partnership someday. Maybe, I dunno, maybe I’ll have some insight on it.” 

That’s when it hit me like a sudden flash of light in a previously pitch black room. 

“Wait… oh my god!” I straightened up from leaning on the table, both men turned to me with rapt attention, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it till now… Charles, your dad, his firm… he could sponsor us!”

“IF we have a case!” Alexander reminded me through gritted teeth. 

“Right. Hypothetically. I mean your dad could help, right? In a hypothetical scenario if a law student without a degree wants to engage in a civil suit, that student must be sponsored by a professor or practicing attorney in good standing. And let’s face it, until this past semester I haven’t exactly been a model student, and even then I’ve been skipping class. I mean, the hypothetical student…” 

“You’re a painfully terrible liar, Natalie.” Alexander’s ever critical little voice once again rang in my ears. 

“Ugh, I know, Alexander, shut up!” I rolled my eyes at the little nightmare before addressing the man in the bloodied sweater beside me, “But you said you wanted to help. This is how! It could be the key to really getting this out there! If Alexander decides he wants to share it with you, that is.” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I meant like… looking over your arguments or reviewing paperwork… I dunno about–” he threw his hands up in a defensive posture, before a little voice below him demanded his attention. 

“—Charles…” Alexander shuffled forward, his free hand motioning for the bigger man to lean in closer. Charles hesitated for a moment, eyeing the aluminum cane in the tiny man’s grip and clearly questioning if this was all a set up to earn him a sharp smack across the nose or face. Eventually, hesitantly, at Alexander’s increasing persistence and ever more emphatic gestures, he leaned down closer. When he settled, Alexander continued, his voice a piercing whisper, “Does the concept of ‘integrity’ mean nothing to you? Am I to understand your word means nothing? When you said you earnestly wanted to make up for your frankly egregious behavior did you lie?”

Charles pulled away, pouting with his arms crossed. Why did he look like a kid getting told off by the principal? A very, very tiny principal, no less, “Aww, c’mon, this isn’t fair! I do want to help. I swear! I just—“ 

“—Well, then. What’re you waiting for?” Alexander bit back with equal but opposing conviction. 

Charles stammered for a worthy excuse before arriving at what he seemed to think was an ace up his sleeve, “You haven’t even told me about the case!” 

“‘Inconsequential! This is a hypothetical scenario, remember?”

“Well, hypothetically, and… regular-thetically… My dad hates my fucking guts so…” 

Alexander flashed a glance at me, a wicked gleam in his eye, “What, did you spend too much money on cable knit sweaters?” His little chin jutted and a self-satisfied, crooked smile brightened his face. Ever the insult comedian. 

“No! Man… I–” Charles looked on the verge of spilling his guts, and then, abruptly, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You won’t care about my sob story, anyway. And why should you? After the way I acted, I don’t blame you for not giving a shit. Suffice it to say, I’m not exactly my dad’s golden child anymore, so…”

“And what regrettable faux pas did you commit to fall from his good graces?” Alexander, ever the expert at subtly navigating emotionally sensitive subjects. 

“I didn’t do anything. Let’s just say he doesn’t… approve of me…”

“Ah…” the little man paused, the wind knocked from his sails. His face twisted into a mixture of a grimace and an attempt at a mask of sympathy, “That… does sound… difficult.” There was a hollow ring of recognition in Alexander’s voice that made me wince for him. He was no stranger to that feeling. Poor man. Both of them, for that matter. 

“You don’t have to throw me a pity party or anything. It is what it is. I’m just saying I can’t just walk up to him and ask for a sponsorship, pretty please…. Again, it’s not like what you’re dealing with, or anything. I can’t imagine…” 

“No. I… I can understand what it’s like not to… measure up… to expectations.” 

“Yeah?” Charles seemed pleasantly surprised to find this common ground with the man who neasured no taller than the liquor glass he stood beside. He even managed a soft smile towards Alexander as he continued, speaking in genuine earnest, “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. If you deem me worthy, of course. Cheers to solidarity through mutual suffering, huh?”

He offered a toast of his glass and a wink. I expected Alexander to find some fault with this, however, instead, with a curt nod of understanding, he raised an invisible glass. I could feel the tension in the room melting with each passing moment. Thank god these boys aren’t going to kill each other after all… at least, not for now. 

Charles passed his gaze between us both, before shuffling out of his seat, “Well, I think I’ve far overstayed my welcome. Sorry, again, for all the ruckus I caused. I certainly wasn’t expecting… well, yeah, this all was gonna go way differently in my head. But, hey, Alexander I need you to make sure she…” he pointed at me with a smirk, “…texts me to set up a movie marathon, because you haven't lived till you’ve seen Aragorn ride into battle! Hold her to it for me, will you?” Alexander nodded doing his level best to keep up the mask of cool indifference about the whole thing, while Charles continued, “And, I will consider broaching the subject of your ‘hypothetical case’ with my father if you can present me with a solid argument. Alright?” 

Alexander’s words seemed to catch in his throat as his little jaw went slack. He shook his head as if to break himself free from his own disbelief, “…W-wait… You’re, you’re actually serious?” I could hear the distrust in his voice. I knew firsthand how quick he was to assume an offer of help was somehow a trap or just empty words. 

Charles seemed to understand this, as he lowered himself back down into a crouch, propping his chin along his forearm, “Was Samwise serious when he pledged his loyalty to Frodo?” 

I could swear I saw that little blonde man’s face go pink to the tips of his ears. He raised his brows, slicked his hair back, adjusted the collar of his shirt and with a truly Herculean attempt to hide the joyous smile that threatened to show how truly delighted he was, finally sputtered, “You have yourself a deal!” He thrust his hand forward, offering a handshake to make it official. 

Charles’ face lit up at the gesture, before casting a glance up in my direction. I mouthed the words “thank you” before the little man below demanded our attention once more. 

“Ahem, come on, let’s shake and be done then…” he stared at the wood grain beneath his feet as he said this. Charles, ever so gently, reached his pointer finger forward, and just as he was about to make contact with the far smaller hand, Alexander pulled back, “And don’t think this makes us fast friends, or anything approaching that. This is a purely professional endeavor. I still don’t like you.” 

I groaned as Charles laughed and shrugged, “Fair enough, dude!” 

Seeming to accept his response, Alexander pressed his palm into the offered fingertip and shook once, twice, and let go, immediately adjusting his collar and smoothing his shirt as if to occupy the hand with anything other than the human before him. 

With that, Charles stood and offered me a hug, which I accepted, warmly. He turned back over his shoulder to regard the little man, “You keep an eye on her, Alexander. Don’t let her do anything too stupid.” 

“It is a valiant battle every moment of every day.” That crooked little smile livened up his eyes as he lifted his chin in defiance up at me. 

“I hate you both!” I groaned. 

“Good!” They both chimed in unison. After we stopped chuckling, or, in Alexander’s case pretending to be above it all, Charles continued with one last farewell, “Look, it was an absolute wild ride meeting you, Alexander. Thanks for the nice new scar, blood stained clothes and possible nerve damage.” He flexed the hand Alexander had smacked with the cane. 

“Thank you for the harrowing reminder of the sociopolitical limitations of my own infuriating reality, the spike in my blood pressure and for ruining the productivity of my entire afternoon.” 

Charles flashed a salute, winking, “Happy to be of service.” 

“Invade my space like that again and I’ll carve you with a fresh design to make your face symmetrical.” 

“Ouch! Touché…” Charles seemed to take it all in stride, a winning smile never fading as he started to head out.  

After pulling on his boots and dawning his coat, he shut the door to the icy outside world behind him and we were alone again. 

The moment the door latched into place, I watched as a little body slumped with exhaustion. His shoulders drooped and he favored his good leg far more. He’d been putting on a show that whole time to stay strong. 

“Alexander?” I whispered, deeply aware of how touchy a subject this was for him. Slowly drawing my cupped hands on either side of him, I continued “I know you don’t normally like to ask for or receive help, but will you let me–” 

Instead of answering me in words, he simply shuffled over to my right hand and halfway leaned, halfway collapsed into the bed of my palm. He avoided my eyes, but I understood what he was asking for. Come here. You don’t have to be strong all alone. 

Tucking my thumb underneath his left arm, I draped my digit over his chest to help keep him from slipping while my left hand came up to meet the other and support his right side. Slowly, gently, I lifted him off the table and gathered him in my hands. He felt like he was melting into the skin of my palms. 

His head leaned against my right pointer finger. I did my best to move slowly and deliberately, trying not to rock him about too much. When I stood up, I met his gaze only to find those icy irises sparkling with a smile. He shook his head, without mustering the energy to lift it away from where it rested, he arched an eyebrow at me, “You have terrible taste in friends.” 

I bit my lip, holding back a smile of my own, “Nuh uh! No I don’t…” 

He flashed his signature deadpan look, practically rolling his eyes back in their sockets. 

“I don’t! Know why? Because I have you…” Did I feel the little pitter patter of his heart spike beneath the pad of my thumb? “You were beyond amazing. Not that you don’t already know that. I’m sorry about the way he reacted. But you, little nightmare, should hold your head up with pride.”

“I know I should! I always should! I’m me!” 

“You gonna let me finish complimenting you or not?”

“You may proceed.” 

“You just won your first case today. Before a licensed attorney, you successfully argued your case and won with flying colors. You completely turned him around using your power of persuasion. That’s something to be pretty goddamn proud of.” 

I felt the smallest pressure on the side of my thumb as his hand squeezed tight. He cracked a smile, flashing his eyes up to mine before tearing them away again. 

“Now, I’m more than happy to keep singing your praises all night long but my guess is you need to rest a bit first, right?” 

“You’ll receive no pushback from me.” 

“Wow! First time for everything!” I padded my way down the hall to the bedroom, watching for the impact of my footfalls as I went. “You sure you’re okay, after everything that happened?”

“Absolutely stellar. I drew blood, after all.” His eyes were more than halfway lidded at this point. 

I crossed my bedroom, tracking over the same corridor of carpet where Alexander had attempted to drive an eye as big as his torso from its socket. Ridiculous, brave little man. 

His arms were still loosely draped over my thumb as I stopped before my bedside table, on top of which, a tiny bed, about the size of my flattened palm, was made up with military precision. I lowered my hand and began unfurling my fingers to set him down to rest. “Alright, let’s try to tone down the bloodlust for at least an hour and get some shut eye, hm?” His eyes were already closed when he nodded ‘yes’, his hair sticking up from rubbing against my finger. 

Yet, when I released him from my grip, his arms didn’t budge. He was still hugging my thumb close to his chest. I wriggled the base of my thumb a bit, letting him know he could let go now. He only squeezed tighter to keep from being shaken off. 

Was this some sort of joke? It was so unlike him to want to be held… 

I was about to ask him what he was doing when a blue iris suddenly sparkled into view as he opened one eye, “Oh, don’t let this go to your head. I’m just cold. That’s all.” He shut his eyes matter-of-factly as though that settled it. 

I couldn’t help the huge grin that brightened my face, “Is that all? Just using me for warmth, huh? No other reason you wanna fall asleep in my hand?”

He let out a little frustrated sigh and pressed his forehead into the pad of my thumb, “You humans are so obtuse.” His brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose in agitation, “I told you I was exhausted, now, please, let me get a moment’s peace before another one of the bumbling idiots you call friends comes crashing in through a window.”

I couldn't help but tease him, just a little, “Well if you’re just cold, I can always give you a warmer blanket. I know that’d be far better than enduring the utter torture of being held. Wouldn’t it?” 

He paused. Just for a tiny fraction of a second, but I knew I’d flustered him, and that was enough to make me smile as he finally opened his eyes to glare up at me, “With the amount of time we’ve already wasted debating this subject, I could’ve been well on my way to unconsciousness by now. Stop arguing with me and lie down and let me sleep! Don’t make me regret allowing you to do this…” 

Yes, my little liege! I did as I was told and curled up on the surface of the bed, careful not to jostle the small life in my hand as I lowered him down to the pillow. As soon as I laid still, he huffed a little sigh of relief and wriggled until he was comfortable, settling for curving his spine against the bowl of my palm, and using the pad of my ring finger for a pillow. In true Alexander fashion, he kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow creased and his lips tight around a set jaw. I didn’t think he knew how to relax even if he tried. 

With a softness I knew he was entirely unaccustomed to in his past, I brushed the tip of my thumb over his chest, just as I had done when he’d asked for comfort at the kitchen table. I watched as he melted around me. Well, melted by Alexander standards. His brow still furrowed, his body rigid and his eyes remained closed but he didn’t flinch and instead loosened his arms and, very lightly, embraced the circumference of my thumb, about as wide as his whole chest. I leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, “Since when did you become such a cuddle bug?” 

His face flushed with color as his eyes snapped open. He shoved my thumb away immediately, and stammered, “What? I’m, I’m not a–!” As he protested, he started to squirm beneath my hand, doing his level best to turn his back on me. 

“It’s okay to want to be held, sometimes, Alexander. It doesn’t negate any of the things you said today. You can be strong and want to be loved on too…” 

He snarled and pushed at my fingers, trying to free himself of any proximity to me now, little eyes still half-lidded and glassy, “I don’t need anything of the sort!”

I provided light resistance with my fingers, even hooking him around the waist and pulling him across the surface of the pillow by an inch or two. He growled, all disheveled and discontented, “Put me back on the bedside table. I can’t endure you any longer!” 

I sighed theatrically, “Well, okay… but are you sure that’s what you really want?”

“You dense creature! Did I stutter?” 

“Okay, okay! Jeez! Come here…” It’s not what I wanted, of course, but I had faith the little nightmare would come around. Wouldn’t he? Or had I just blown my chance to hold him and show him the affection I was itching to give him every second of every day? I felt my shoulders droop as I pinched him between finger and thumb and supported his legs with my opposite fingers. I was now sitting up in bed, the little man before me, his desired destination to my left. 

I held him at eye level, seeking the truth behind that prickly exterior of his, “Do you want me to leave you alone, Alexander? I’ll do what you ask me, I promise.” I truly meant that. He was left a heaving mess, dangling in the air, hands gripping my thumb as he stared at me though his brows. Poor thing, I hadn’t meant to get him this dysregulated. 

He glared at me for what felt like forever. I wished so badly he could just ask for the love and affection he so clearly craved but was far too embarrassed to acknowledge. I bit my lip, resigned to the fact that he was inevitably going to demand to be set down and left the hell alone. After all, what choice did he have? In his black and white thinking, to desire comfort from a human meant all his talk about resistance was meaningless. I sighed, wishing I could somehow impart to him I truly meant no harm, but instead began to lower him down to the bedside table. 

“FINE!” His little voice cut through the air like a razor’s edge. I blinked, stopped all movement and returned to the scene before me. I held aloft a tiny man, his body weighing almost nothing at all. My thumb pressed against his chest while my pointer finger supported his back. He had his arms crossed somewhat awkwardly over the knuckle of my thumb, as his messy bangs hung haphazardly over his expressive little eyes, “I see what you’re doing. I see what game’s afoot!”

What the hell was he talking about? My brow furrowed. I’d been stringing him along up until this point, but now he was pulling me by the nose instead. 

“You siren! You manipulative wretch! Your reverse psychology wouldn’t normally work on me, but you’ve caught me in a momentary state of vulnerability… Your charms are… somehow, against my will, taking their hold…” 

Ohhhhh. Yet another little game because god forbid we ever be direct. Jesus Christ what a drama king. 

I’d play along, then, if that’s what he needed to feel safe asking to be held, “Ahh! Yes! My spells are working! You could only resist for so long… And now, I’ll seal your fate once and for all!” Swiftly and without pausing for breath, I propped him up before me. I leaned in ever closer, and felt his body start to stiffen and squirm. As soon as a breathy “Natalie!” escaped him, I kissed his blonde rat’s nest of hair, my lips also covering the side of his face and neck. 

When I pulled back enough to see his little face, I was met with wide, bright blue eyes that stared somewhat into the middle distance, as a tiny chest heaved up and down and a little mouth stayed open and slack jawed. Just like the last time I’d dared to kiss him, all his systems seemed to go into overload. I brushed my thumb over his hair, and whispered, “How’s that for charms, huh?” He was a brighter shade of red than any tomato I’d ever seen. He didn’t say a word, just blinking, still in shock, it seemed. Poor thing. I decided I wouldn’t put him through anything else, “Get some rest, Alexander. You blew me away today. Thank you for reminding us of how brilliant you are. Go to sleep now. You’ve had a long day…” With that, I lowered him back down to the pillow, with my hand cupped behind him.

As I watched him drift off to sleep, I could only imagine what was racing through that brilliant little mind. I wanted to watch him as long as I could, but eventually the utter exhaustion of the day caught up with me too, and despite my best efforts, I fell asleep, holding the little nightmare I adored so much. 

Tag list:

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@lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien @thegodmother007

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[aplaceforallmystupidshit]

I LOOOOVE MIA FEY!!! I love how in 1-2 the case end with her just like. Actively in front of the judge blackmailing the witness abt his blackmail. And ur like “well I guess she’s dead so she has nothing to lose by pulling a batshit strategy like this?” And then u get to Mia is 3-1, in her *second case as a lawyer ever* and she ends the case by saying to the prosecution’s fucking face “you don’t believe me that this is poison? Ok motherfucker eat it right here right now” and ur like. Oh. She’s always been like this

[shopwitchvamp]

Thinking about a comment I got recently saying my clothes are "peak Gen Z bad taste" or something like that. And I'm so offended :[

Like, I'm 33. Born in 1990. This is peak Millennial bad taste! Obviously!!

[incorrectagathaallalongquotes]

Rio: You’re meddling with forces you don’t understand!

Agatha: No duh? Why would I meddle with forces I do understand? I already know everything they know.

Rio: True.