#god i still barely know how to tag on this site

[fizzy-frenzy]

Sketch that I'll do the line art for either tomorrow, orrrr probably never

[art block has been kicking my ass save me pls]

[jealousjersey]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖”come home”⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

☆ tags // mike schmidt x reader, loser!mike x dom!gn!reader,

☆ mentions // mike is a needy loser who begs for your attention, dick sucking, edging, cum drinking, reader doms mike, angst, fluff, smut, needy and desperate mike, reader has like wrapped around their finger., missionary, unprotected p in v (wrap it) minors dni 18+

☆ a/n // i still love writing for mike schmidt this is heaven ty lou

your work has been consuming you, working long hours, barely coming home on time, sleeping all until your next shift and just being busy. your boyfriend, mike, hates it. he hates that you’re never home, he hates that he never sees you, and he hates that you two haven’t had sex in weeks.

he’s been a brat about it ever since you took more hours, and he never took the time to realize that you’re only working so hard to provide for things he’d want, i mean, you are the house breadwinner. ever since his pizzeria secrurity job ended you’ve had to work since he couldn’t get hired anywhere.

as you’re working you get texts after texts from mike. “are you gonna be home on time?” “i miss you.” “i need you it’s been so long” he spams you.

god, he’s so needy. you roll your eyes at the text. if he doesn’t chill the hell out for atleast 3 more hours you’re going to loose your mind, does he not know that it’s hard for you too?

as the hours go by you think of ways to surprise him. maybe some lingerie? maybe a new toy for you two to experiment with? maybe some flavored lube? the possibilities are endless. you count down to the second you get off your shift, simply texting mike “wait up on me, i have a surprise.” as you clock out and go to your car.

you arrive at the nearest mall and get a cute lingerie set from the Spencer’s located within. a black lacy bra with a golden heart charm between the breasts, the bottom piece is a black and lacy with “baby” on the butt written in rhinestones. you knew he would love it but you didn’t expect him to like it as much as he did.

as you’re getting back in your car to drive home, you get a sudden rush of excitement. wondering how he’ll react at the site of you. you even put on red lipstick to top it all off. as you arrive at home, you change into your new set in your car, it fit perfectly around your shape. you swiftly but your work clothes back on. you still need this to be a surprise.

you enter the house and throw your keys on the kitchen table. you walk into your room and mike is waiting patiently for you, god his bulge is showing just by the thought of you coming home.

before he could say anything you strip as soon as you get through your door, watching his eyes gaze at your body in your new set. giving him a spin around so he could see your rhinestone covered ass.

mikes eyes widen at the site of you, a wet spot already forming at the tip of the tent in his sweatpants. “oh my god” he says softly as he stares at your figure.

you stand in your set in front of him, your fingers dancing across your chest, driving him crazy. you get on your knees in front of him and bring his sweatpants down, followed by his boxers. pulling them down just below his balls. his dick springs out of his pants, hot and red at the tip with precum pooling out.

you leave one kiss on his tip as your lips take in his precum. leaving the red lipstick kiss mark on his dick. he immediately groans at the sensation, feeling better than he has in weeks just by the expectation of you giving him head.

but you’re not giving in that easily. you kiss and lick around his shaft, but never long enough for him to get a release from it, your lipstick leaving red stains all around his hard on.

“please suck, i’ve been thinking about it all night please” he pleads with almost tears in his eyes from the overstimulation. it’s so cute seeing him like this but who are you to say no to his request?

as per his request you start, you wrap your red lips around his tip and his hand pushes your head down, it’s almost insulting but god, it’s so needy of him and that drove you crazy. you fully emerge yourself around him and he lets out a sore whimper.

you gag on his dick as you’re sucking, he throws his head back and keeps his hand on the back of your head, gripping on your hair. his dick twitches in your mouth signaling he’s close to cumming. “m’gonna cum” he moans, only the whites of his eyes showing. as his words hit your ears you stop, red lipstick covering the shaft of him.

he looks devastated at your action. “please let me cum, i’ve been waiting so long.” he begs. it’s almost cute how desperate he is for you. you want to keep going for him but you stop yourself. “now is it really fair if you get to get off and i don’t? is that fair? i’ve been waiting just as long as you have.” you say

you push him back on the bed, his dick springing up, tip still red and sensitive. you wrap your hands around him, feeling the warmth of him.

you basically rip your panties off of yourself, positioning yourself on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, grinding on him as you look him in the eyes. “you look so pretty when i’m overstimulating your dick. so, so pretty.” you say as you place a hand on his cheek

he moans your name as he places his hands on your hips, so tightly that you’re certain it’ll leave bruises. you want that, the pain would be a reminder of this amazing night.

your hair flips around your neck, your face flushed with a pink tint and sweat beaming off your forehead. his dick assaults your walls as his tip brushes your gspot causing you to let out a soft moan of his name. his fingers make their way to your clit, moving soft circles along it, making you pant soft sounds.

mike almost cums on contact with your body, but he knows he has to stop himself. he has to make this good for you. he has to make this last as long as he can. “fuck, i’m gonna cum mike.” you whimper. he speeds up, hitting your gspot with each thrust he leads you to bounce on.

“m’so close” you whimper, his fingers bring themselves to your chest, god he loved it so much. especially in that new bra. his teeth graze your nipples, biting them so softly but it feels so much more intense this way. so intimate, yet so dirty.

“can i cum now? please” he moans. how could you say no? “cum in me, please cum in me” you say, and he does. leaving thick white pools in you, the warmth making you shake as you finish, as you remove yourself from on him, you pour out a mix of both of your releases. he brings a finger to your wetness and brings it up to his mouth, sucking on them. he loves the taste of you.

please come home earlier next time.

[muffinrecord]

Current Plans + Musings

I don't plan on playing Exedra to the degree I did for Magia Record, or playing it at all. Because of that, I won't be taking an active role in the community and archiving anything for it. Of course, if Exedra has like amazing gameplay and stories then this is all subject to change, but for now I think I'm done with phone games.

The two youtube channels will stay up and I'll check em periodically to make sure there aren't copyright strikes against the content. I've saved all my raw files, especially for the battle animations, so I can remake them in the future if the music ever becomes a problem for some reason.

Google Drive will stay up until Google rots away. I haven't recorded footage in a long time (as in stories, I do for the character doppels and such), but I'll upload things if they're sent to me.

Magia Union Translations still plans on translating things and making videos, especially leading up to the end, but also for after the game is over for whatever wasn't made in time. I'm not sure what form this will take in the future-- if it'll be manual captions added to the videos or not, but I know it WILL happen.

As for this blog, I'm not going to delete it or anything. However I'm going to be taking a step back. I'd like to say that I'll do liveblogs but I mean... *gestures at blog* I've been saying that for years and the only one I really did successfully was the Oriko one lmao. Ahhh oh well.

I'll have more words later, but it was really fun to be part of a fandom experience like this. I'm excited to work on my own original story projects though and quiet down a bit.

...

When I started this blog, I never expected it to have people actually read it. Or look at it. I just wanted a place to gush about how much fun I was having. I didn't even want to tag the posts with "Magia Record" at first because I was terrified people would be mean at me, haha.

But I'm glad I did. I made so many good friends through this game. I'm glad it existed. And it made me happy to have a place where people cared about what I had to say. Some folks actually got their news from here, can you imagine that? They had notifications turned on for this blog. My god.

Anyways, I'm going to be here for the next two months, and tomorrow I'll start reblogging fan projects and initiatives, plus general news. Maybe this blog will turn into a dumping site for art and fanfic reblogs, who knows. I might watch the remaining stuff and add various thoughts here and there.

Otherwise, you can find me on my main blog @malignmuffin, which only reblogs stuff (I don't talk much if at all there). I have another tumblr blog for my comic, but I think I'll reshare the name once I actually have content you can look at on it. It's pretty bare bones for the moment.

Actually it'll be funny if the end of this game is what makes me finally work on it again. I was in the process of working on it when NA came out, and it totally derailed me. Stopped writing, drawing, just focused on this silly little phone game. Now it's like those five years have gone by and I'm going back to where I started, except I think my lil comic is going to be a bit better than it was before. If I actually make it, that is.

If I ever do actually make my comic and start posting it, I'll be sure to update y'all here. hah

Anyways, thanks for being on this wild ride with me. The memories have been great, and I'm glad I had this experience, even if it had to end.

[jupiter-soups]

a sheep in wolf's clothing

pairing + tag: joel miller x f!reader, established relationship, fluff

summary: joel miller is not quite as scary as the people of jackson believe him to be. at least, not around you.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: kinda been dealing with some writers block and i thought i'd write a cute fluffy one shot to deal with it. please let me know what you think! also, thank you to the incredible @papipascalispunk for beta-ing!

The swing of Joel’s sledgehammer squarely met the metal pole, pushing it down further into the hard earth with a raw strength that made the pair of teens watching grimace.

“God, he’s scary today. Why’s he hulking out so much? Who pissed him off?” The taller of the teens, Nathan, whispers to his friend, whilst leaning against his shovel for support. 

“I don’t know, but whoever it is better get their shit together, because he’s gonna end up snapping. We do not want to be here for that,” Callum responds with a conspiratorial tone, gesturing for Nathan to come closer so he could divulge some gossip.

“Apparently, before he got to Jackson, he was this total killing machine, just ruthless, relentless and bloodthirsty,” Callum stagewhispers, peeking out of the corner of his eye to where Joel was clearly funneling pure rage in each swing of his hammer.

“Why would they even let some mad man in here with us?” Nathan responds nervously, with much less subtlety in how he was eyeing Joel’s movements and his apparent familiarity with swinging a blunt object.

“I guess he adopted Ellie, or something. Maybe that mellowed him out a bit?” Callum winces at a particularly hard swing of the hammer, one that made Joel grunt out in effort, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead as he stepped back, seemingly satisfied with his work.

“Clearly not enough. Ellie’s dad, huh?” Nathan lets out a huff of an exhale, reminiscing on a particularly painful evening where his romantic advances on Ellie were met with a swift and brutally painful punch in the gut. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Their gossiping fades away into a terrified silence, as Joel stalks up to where they’re standing, walking slowly and with eyes slightly narrowed. The two practically shrink under his gaze as he approaches.

“You two just gonna stand around all day or get to fuckin’ work like the rest of us,” Joel grits out, the furrow of his brow informing the two that they were nowhere near quiet enough when gossiping.

“Uh, I–”

“We were j–”

“Stop fuckin’ around and dig.” Before Joel even finished his sentence, the pair scrambles back over to the patch of soil they were assigned to clear, working with a vigor that they didn’t even know they were capable of. 

—-----------

Joel had sort of assumed that the rumors about him had died down. No one crossed the street when they saw him anymore. No one even begged to get swapped to a different patrol route when grouped with him, terrified of what he might do outside of the safety of laws and watchful eyes in Jackson. 

He shifts his head from side to side as he walks home on the barely illuminated streets, stretching out the strain from working all day. He holds a paper bag close to his body, trying to keep it dry from the light rainfall that had begun at some point between him leaving the building site and stopping at the bakery. 

A smile breaks through his cold exterior as he finally approaches his house and sees the living room light still on, a beacon welcoming him home.

To you.

In his eagerness to see you, he forgot to take off his dirty work boots, a fact you quickly remind him of with a croaky call of “Shoes!”, the second he turned the corner into the living room. 

“Sorry, baby,” He laughs quietly, tossing the paper bag he was carrying onto your lap where you were sprawled out on the couch, before heading back into the hall to kick off his boots.

You gasp in excitement as you open the paper bag and see three of your favorite caramel cookies from the bakery, immediately regretting it as your throat stung from the act.

The cold that currently had you couchridden under the warm embrace of a thick woolen blanket had also meant that you weren’t able to pick up the rare treats. The bakery only made them once a month, and typically ran out by noon. Your heart swelled as you realized Joel must have gone out of his way on an already busy day, just to get them for you.

“How did you manage to get three of them?” You ask in awe as he reenters the room and moves to join you where you were sitting, lifting your extended legs to rest his back against the back of the couch and placing them over his lap. His hands settled on your legs, rubbing them gently through your thick winter pajama pants. 

“Guess there’s some good in being scary, ol’ Joel Miller,” He chuckles, taking a cookie from your extended hand and taking a bite.

You begin to sit up slightly to take a bite too, but visibly wince when your head begins to spin from the movement. Joel stops you instantly, dropping his cookie back into the bag on your lap to rearrange your pillows behind you into a slightly more seated position.

“You’re still not doing well,” He tuts, disapproval radiating off of him in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. “Shouldn’ta made me go to work today, darlin’, I should’a been here for you.”

“Joel,” you reassure, “I’m completely fine, barely got the sniffles at this point.” He raises an eyebrow at your blatant lie, taking in the sweaty sheen on your forehead and nasally voice before sighing and settling back into his seat. You weren’t in a state to argue.

“So, big, bad Joel Miller scares the town folk into giving him extra cookies?” You tease, drawing a laugh out of the guilty man sitting next to you. His grip on your shins loosens slightly as he begins to actually relax again, much to your satisfaction. He was already stressed enough in the morning when he had to leave you to go fill in for someone at the construction site, almost canceling after you spent most of the night awake, shivering and sniffling. You didn’t want him to feel even more guilty, regardless of the fact that you had been the one who insisted that he goes. 

“You should’a heard some of the stuff they were sayin’ about me today,” He shook his head in feigned disbelief, well aware of his reputation. “Somethin’ about being ruthless and relentless,”

You laugh through a bite of the cookie, “I could see that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh, really?”

“At least the relentless part. There’s been more than a few times I’ve had to tap out,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him, causing him to shake his head at you, trying to fight back the way his lips were turning up at the corners in amusement. 

He watches you finish off the second cookie in a comfortable silence, a faint smile on his face as he observes the absolute glee in your eyes with each bite. His fingers begin to play with the hem of your pajama pants the more he watches you, and you can sense the slight anxiety in his movements.

“Stop worrying, Joel, I was fine. I promise. You know the building team needed you today.”

He grumbles a quiet response that you don’t quite make out, something about ‘incompetent,’ and ‘ill-equipped,’ before turning his annoyance to you, “I already know you didn’t drink enough water.”

You nudge him gently in the stomach with your knee, prompting him to drop it, which he does with a moody sigh.

“How was Ellie today?” He opts to change the subject.

“Not been around too much. She’s still running around after Dina, thinking she's so slick. I know we need to wait for her to come to us about it, but I wish she would just tell us already.” His soft brown eyes betray the unease he felt at the issue.

“I hope…” He trails off in a worried tone that’s familiar to you; the, I think I’m fucking up tone. “I hope she doesn’t think she can’t talk to me about it.” You reach your hand out and grab his, big and warm and immediately squeezing and rubbing your hand within his to warm up your freezing fingers. ”I suppose I can be a little scary sometimes. Those kids down at the site sure thought so,” He chuckles once, humorlessly and self-deprecatingly, reaching over to grab your other hand to warm up that one too.

“There’s no fucking way, Joel. Maybe those kids who’ve never been outside of the walls for a day in their lives were scared of you, but we know you’re a big ol’ softie. Besides, there’s not much that scares Ellie. Definitely not an old man that she could easily beat in a fight,” You tease, relieved when his shoulders seem to relax a little. 

Joel leans forward, cupping your chin in his hand to pull you in for a kiss. You don’t let him indulge, perhaps for the first time in your relationship. “Joel, I’ll just get you sick too. You gotta be back at work tomorrow, remember?” Your heart squeezes at the almost pout on his face, but he doesn’t push the matter, instead starting to get up with a grunt, gently placing your legs back down on the couch where he had been sat. He turns to you with an expectant look and reaches out a hand.

“Let’s head up to bed, darlin’,”

You blink. “Joel, I just said I can’t get you sick. I’ll just sleep down here for the night, the couch is comfy enough.”

His hand stays extended for a moment, before letting it drop. “Fine,” he states resolutely, “I suppose I’ll see you in the mornin’, then?” His voice seems almost too innocent, and your suspicions are confirmed when he drags the warm blanket from your body in one swift motion and starts walking towards the stairs. 

“Joel!” You exclaim, “What the fuck?” 

He pauses part way up the stairs to your bedroom and gives you a nonchalant shrug. “This is my blanket. Can’t go to sleep without it.” He turns back and continues to head up the stairs. You grumble at the real satisfied little smirk on his face as he does so.

“But…” You groan and roll off the warm couch, and begin to plod up the stairs to your shared bed. 

Fine, if he wants to get sick so badly, I’ll let him. 

—-------------

“Shouldn’ Miller be here by now?” Nathan says as he eyes the entrance to the build site nervously, doing his best to appear busy.

“I guess he’s sick today, heard he got a fever or something.” Callum’s words instantly ease Nathan’s rigid posture.

“Thank God for that,” He mutters, letting the shovel in his hands drop to the ground with a relieved sigh. 

“Or maybe,” Callum smiled sinisterly, “He’s out plotting his next kil–” He’s cut off when a hand is smacked down onto the nape of his neck, turning into a painful grip that swivels his head in the direction of his assailant and the project’s latest stand-in worker, Ellie Williams.

“Why don’t you fucks get back to work, hmm?” Her grip tightens on the back of Callum’s neck, and he visibly flinches under her exacting gaze. Nathan gulps and reaches to pick up his shovel as quickly as possible. Joel Miller was definitely not the scariest person in Jackson

tags: @gasolinerainbowpuddles @beardedjoel @huffle-punk

thank you for reading <3 please let me know your thoughts :)

[pillarsalt]

hi there!!! love your art first of all!! :)

i came across a rb of your cotton cieling/peaking comic (which i also love!) and saw in the notes how tims have scrubbed the tag since then. it made me curious how widespread the knowledge of their rape rhetoric actually is (since we know how happy they are to spew it when they know only lesbians are reading/listening, but we also know how hard they try to pretend to everyone else that they're tooootally not homophobic and toooootally don't have an incel meltdown at the mere thought of a lesbian saying "no" to them)

so i decided to see if wikipedia had an article on the ""cotton cieling"" (god i could go off on one about how these misogynists think "women are not given equal positions/mobility in the workforce" and "men get told 'no' by women they want to have sex with realllllly badly :-(" are at ALL comparable but this ask is long enough already) and guess what!? they DO but it has been NUKED to all hell.

right now? it's got zero citations/links, zero name drops of any Brave And Stunning men who promote it and write theory about it let alone naming the POS who coined it, barely even says what the definition even is... it's THE shortest article i've ever seen on there.

but look at the history tab!!! it used to be a fleshed out piece that was out and proud about claiming "lesbians not wanting to sleep with men is both oppressive and misogynistic" until at some point they realized saying the quiet part out loud where "normies" might see it was not a good idea and quietly scrubbed the article. (but they still keep it up!! as opposed to that female mod who made literal thousands of helpful factual edits, maintaining their site for free: she got banned the moment they found out she wasn't a handmaiden and all her work is theirs now i guess). and all the while, in the background, they've kept on coercing and pressuring lesbians to sleep with them nonstop with zero guilt or shame.

please for the love of god explain to me how they've convinced anyone who pays attention they're ""the most oppressed minority group who ever lived""???

holy shit anon you're right, that edits tab is crazyyy. They have definitely done a 180° on this subject, at least out loud where the average person can read it. The discussion page is another good read, LauraRichards1981 if you ever read this, you are a star and I love you.

Talking to other feminists and others who used to support genderism but "peaked", I would say at least half of them brought up the phenomenon of trans-identified men insisting lesbians have sex with them or be labeled bigots as at least one factor in their new outlook. It's so blatantly homophobic and I think a lot of influential figures in trans activism have realized how bad it looks for them, and have actively tried to memory hole it. I have even seen some claiming that "terfs" invented the term, which is hilarious because, as portrayed in my comic, I saw it with my own eyes being touted absolutely everywhere online as a way to vilify lesbians who wouldn't go along with every desire of the male trans individuals who had parasitized their communities. The DARVO is real.

[kevotsuka]

rafannadal matchvedev here PLEASE your tags on that jerez video... i definitely think marcs feelings towards pecco and luca are Different compared to marco? pecco esp with his racing in emilios moto3 team and teammates with alex and everything, and luca bc hes... known him for a while, hasnt he...... vales baby brother......... UGH GOD anyway hes known them both for soooo long and much more closely than bezz, right, so i def think where bezz counts as full-fledged academy member One Of Vales Boys, he kinda Missed important... developments... and im sure hes been Filled In but also. hm. pecco and luca def def def... special.......... i always remember that interview marc did where he was asked what his relationship with pecco, bezz and luca is like and he said great with pecco and luca and didnt even mention marco 😭 literally forgets about him all the time, it feels like, and then bezz didnt really make the greatest effort to be Friendly, has he... apart from liking one million of marcs insta posts up until the divorce happened 😭😭😭 and now what, for a decade bezz has been icy but marc is supposed to care about him? never. he has REASON to care for pecco and luca and even franky, but bez?

@rafannadal matchvedev ,one or dearest tumblrlinas of this site ... You're so right and all your words are soo real

i have so many feelings for cev pecco and marc and they interactions, Pequito looking at Marc with stars in his eyes, to shy to ask for anything but still around him in the box in case of Marc decided talk to him. Marc who see Pecco and 'ow, he's good, he would become better in the future', his future teammate now

and Luca, little honda fan Luca who watches how they take marc since the begging of his career and maybe think 'i can dream with that? i hope one day...' like Vale doesn't ruin every bridge to honda for him (this is related and parallel to the Alex M/Yamaha saga to). Luca who never really ended up in the middle of the divorce, unlike Alex who had to physically push people away to protect his brother Luca always saying nice things about Marc (the Ducati thing? Like he said it just because is a little shit who loves drama, but was a choice and he take it) and Marc chose don't be like Valentino or his people have a part of my heart

And then we have Bez . 'who?' in Marc's books. Bezz who was growing up, he take a side and wants to die for it in the way teens would die for they beliefs and never think about it after that. Bezz who watches Marc win unfairly, because he ruined Vale career, so everything good happen to him would happen to Vale instead.

Bez who wasn't worry about Marc's lession and probably think 'he deserves that' with a bit of more malice than he knows he have inside of him. The honda slowly trying to kill Marc's makes him forgot how good he really is

Bez now is a adult but he never questioned the divorce before, about the evil, the horror bedtime story that Uccio tells to warn them about Marquez. But now he knows Marc, at least one part of him, that one who doesn't feed the press telling what happen that day. He could ruins Marco, but chose don't and that maybe change something, or maybe was when Marco watches him with a good bike again at the point he's LEARNING from him-

and then we have Marc who barely know this fucking guy who yelled at him at one of the most emotional days of his career, the pain of his arm with the last day with his FAMILY in a race who was ruined for someone else and he can't really be angry for that, but Bez?

'no voy a perder tiempo con ese personaje' and he is committed whit it. He don't think about that guy, he barely respond his words and act like bez doesn't exist when he can. For someone like Bez who lives for being recognized

And is all Bez fault, i think is beautiful <3

[mulderscully]

honestly, staying away from tumblr is hard! i still check in every day, but in using it less even for 2 days i'm #realizing that i don't think it's just the anons stressing me out even if it certainly doesn't help. i think i have using this site in a way that isn't healthy or productive to my mental health.

i have been trying to use it how i used it when i only worked part time or when i was in college and that isn't feasible anymore. i simply cannot spend hours giffing daily and watch tv and write and read AND spend time with friends, between two jobs. i have to accept that giffing is becoming a passing thing in my life that i do when it strikes my fancy. not something i do all the time.

i realize i put a lot of pressure on myself to #create so i can #engage like it's some sort of currency and i think that's bad for me. i also put pressure on myself to reblog things people tag me in even if i don't really want to because i don't feel strongly enough to reblog it. like. i don't really like eddi/e diaz, and people tag me in eddie when i barely blog abt him and i then don't wanna be rude and ignore gifsets, or be rude and be like "hey, i don't like this extremely popular character." so i just scroll on or reblog it but i still feel guilty and that isn't healthy? like baby it's just a tv show! idek.

and then i feel guilty for not "evenly" creating for my multiple fandoms! i have been in this rwrb hyperfixation since august and it still isn't going anywhere, so ofc it's what i want to gif a reblog most and then i feel like guilty because i haven't giffed doctor who, or the x files, or buffy or whatever "enough" since i got rwrb brainrot and it's like god, it should not matter this much!

i don't know how my brain became this way but i really feel like i need to change something about how i blog, even if it's just pausing doing anything else and just being honest with y'all.

[we-were-so-beautiful]

2. day six

holy shit hi! it's me! I'm back! I will be very surprised if anybody remembers me or this story given that it's been literally six months since I posted the first chapter. my motivation, interest, energy and amount of free time for this project all fluctuate, but... this story feels like it wants to be told, and I want to tell it. so hopefully I'll manage to pop up around here with an update for it every once in a while.

Content warnings for this chapter: box boy universe, pet whump, dehumanization, cages, blood mention. I'm still getting the hang of how to tag these so please let me know if there's anything I missed.

[masterlist] [chapter one] [chapter three]

Vanessa means to wait until an hour before closing time to go to the shelter. Really, she does. She wants to give this guy as much of a chance as he can get to go home with someone, literally anyone, who’s better for him than she is. But it’s lunchtime and she’s already practically vibrating. She’s not even used to being awake by noon anymore, much less having already been up for hours refreshing the site so often it’s making her nauseous. Or maybe that’s just the all-consuming anxiety of suspense.

What if the assholes at the shelter decide that six days is close enough, and take him away before she even gets there? What if she’s fucked up and counted the days wrong, and he’s actually scheduled to die today? What if the subway’s delayed, or the shelter closes early, and she’s too late, and another person dies because she made a stupid fucking mistake?

What if, says the voice in the back of her head that she refuses to listen to, somebody takes him who’s even worse for him than me?

“Oh, fuck literally all of this,” she says to the empty room, and grabs her coat.

—

“Uh, hey, I’m here to…”

“Sign in on the sheet.” The bored-looking shelter employee doesn’t so much as glance up from her phone. Vanessa looks around; the lobby is totally devoid of anyone save for the two of them.

“I just want to know if—”

“Sign in on the sheet.”

Vanessa breathes out through her nose until her hand stops ticking long enough to write. She scribbles her name and the time, and sets the pen down with a deliberate clack on the desk directly in front of the employee.

The woman barely raises her head. “How can I help you.”

Vanessa steels herself. “Is, uh… Do you still have…” God she hates talking about people like this she hates it she hates it she hates it. “Is pet number 414374 still here? I want to…” She wants to choke on the word. “...I want to adopt him.”

The employee’s affect goes duller than ever. “Oh, he’s still here, alright,” she mutters grimly.

Vanessa only realizes how much tension she’s been holding when it floods out of her so fast she almost loses her balance. “Can I see him?”

“If you really want to,” the employee sighs. “But I’m tellin’ you, lady, you’re not gonna like what you find.”

—

“That’s him?!”

“Told you you were gonna be disappointed, lady.”

Vanessa gapes. It’s not like she’s been expecting to be okay with seeing people in cages, but she sure as shit didn’t expect… whatever the fuck she’s looking at now.

The dude is filthy, caked head to toe in blood, dirt and worse. The hair that flowed around him in his picture is matted down his back now, littered with scores of dead and decaying leaves. His ice-blue eyes are dull and unfocused. His breaths are quick and shallow, and the way they rasp in his throat makes Vanessa twitch. 

He’s lying in a heap on the single layer of newspaper between him and the inch-wide mesh of the shelter-standard cage. Vanessa sucks at math, but she thinks it can’t be more than three by three by five. The shelter profile listed him at six foot two.

The employee bangs on the metal with the back of her hand, making a horrible clanging sound that makes Vanessa want to claw her own ears off. “Hey, look alive, refurb. You got one more interested owner. Maybe try to impress this one for a change?”

“Can he even—” Vanessa starts, but the guy surprises her by slowly, painfully lifting his head. The dirt that coats his skin cracks and flakes as he struggles to push himself up on his elbows. He reaches jerkily for the front of the cage, arms trembling violently with the effort, his breathing growing more and more labored as he tries to meet her gaze.

In the split second before he collapses again, she swears he manages it.

—

“I want him.”

The employee has already turned to go, talking over her shoulder as she ambles back toward the desk. “Yeah, so if you're lookin’ for a fancy one you could try the Manhattan shelter, they sometimes—hang on, you what?” She twists back abruptly as the words actually register.

“I want him,” Vanessa says again.

The employee stares at her for a long, long minute. Vanessa can almost see her fighting the urge to blurt out, “why?” Finally, though, she collects herself, with a wildly overexaggerated shrug of her shoulders.

“It’s your money, lady,” she says, and unlocks the cage.

[immafish0258]

[LONG RANT ABOUT FANDOM INCOMING I AM SO SORRY]

idk how to open this but ykw fuck it, i'll cut to the chase: imo some ppl in this fandom (mostly with the ppl on r/glassanimals, but its in other sites aswell) dont rlly know how to give criticism that isn't just plain insults

[more below (so it wont clog up the ga tag)]

theres nothing wrong with ACTUAL, CONSTRUCTIVE, HEALTHY CRITICISM dont get me wrong! whenever you like ilysfm or not, imo its important to like, have a healthy conversation, be respectful and be like "I like/dislike this album and imo I think it could've been better if x, y, z " and thats valid! even if its just "this album is/isn't my thing" thats ok! thats alright! I've seen people be respectful and give constructive criticism and have a convo!

I get the frustration aswell! I get that ppl wish for music that they like, and that ga dipping their toes (haha get it) into the pop genre for the second time in a row makes them feel estranged!

but the way some people try and "criticise" album 4 is just.. not it.

do some of yall think that "its not zaba therefore its a cashgrab and its mid and ga fell of and theyre sellouts" is constructive criticism? that's just plain insults with no taste! thats not healthy and doesnt start a good convo either!

like at some point you don't seem like a ga fan anymore and just a zaba stannie!

some ppl acting like zaba is superior and ga owes them more zaba is kinda weird to me cause like, they dont owe you anything! they dont know us! and we only know the parts they want us to see online!

and it's also not the first rodeo! this happened before! (definetly happened with dreamland but not sure on htbahb)

the take of "why are they making repetitive music" while you want ga to make another zaba AKA MAKE REPETITIVE MUSIC is a hypocritical take! It's not a good look I'm sorry!

and the take of "lp4 is full of generic love songs for depressed 13 year olds" that I've seen from a few people ain't good cause like, this album is full of depressing-at-best, toxic-at-worst relationships! just cause it's about love doesn't mean it's instantly generic! the lyrics aren't like "we would be together in the stars we would be so lovey dovey" "i wish you loved me back" "youre the air that i breathe", they're more like "ive been kidnaped and developed stockholm syndrome" "hey i fucking hate your guts but i still lowkey love yo- oh shit the songs ending" "we fell out of love and i cant change that no matter how hard I try". like IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU BRO! like misinterpreting these lyrics so badly my god-

also the fact that some went like "ga should be ashamed and embarressed for releasing this" is rlly sad to me, like I remember Dave saying that this is his most personal work and he had to get vulnerable first before making it, and saying that he should be embarressed for pouring his heart out is kinda :[ to me (maybe because vulnerabillity is a very important trait to me, but moving on)

or the take that "theyre making radio-friendly tiktok music" like what radio would play a song with lyrics mentioning ball gags and being tied up??????

like this is unproductive, lowkey unhealthy, very repetitive and very tiring imo. people are getting tired of the same ol recycled, poorly disguised as "criticism", bare insults. most of the time in the reddit, some here, on twitter, insta and discord. this has been repeated ad nauseam, and it's getting nowhere imo.

so uh yea. that's my thoughts on this whole thing

thanks for reading :] -A

[andydrysdalerogers]

The ABCs of Nick Vaughn - "Z"

Pairing: Reader x Nick Vaughn (Before We Go)

Summary: Children its time to learn your ABCs. And Nick Vaughn is here to teach you the lessons. 26 glimpses in the world of you and Nick Vaughn

Warnings: S-M-U-T!!!! (under 18 please leave the chat!) descriptions of sexual activity including some themes of BDSM, loss of virginity, fluffy bits, pet name etc...

The new upload will probably be Sundays. Have fun kittens! Also, the tag list is open!

A/N: This is the end. There isn't any more.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Previous: Y - YOLO

ABC Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Z – Zenith 

Def – the highest point or peak 

Six months after the wedding... 

“I hate you!” 

“I know.”  

“You did this to me!” 

“I know.”  

Tears overwhelmed your face as you looked at Nick, who was still holding your hand despite your mean words. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.  

“I know, love, I know.  You’re almost there, my strong brave girl.” He kissed your forehead.  

“Nicky, I can’t do this. It hurts,” you cry as another contraction grips your belly.  

Y”es, you can baby. You’re almost there.”  

“Ok YN, I need a good push,” the doctor says.  “The head is crowning so give me one good one.”  

You bare down and grit your teeth as you push your baby into the world. “Breathe, baby, c’mon you got this,” Nick says.  

Who knew you were 8 weeks pregnant when you got married?  This baby is coming a couple of weeks early but the doctors assured you that they were fully cooked and ready to go.  

“The head is out,” the doctor declared.  “Another push YN and we get to meet your baby.”  

You pushed again and the doctor told you to hold off as the shoulders popped out.  

“It’s a girl!” The doctor held up your screaming infant in the air.  

“A girl,” Nick breathed as your new daughter was placed on your chest.  

“Hi, baby, hi,” your eyes flooded in tears as your daughter’s cries dies down as she felt your skin on hers.  “Oh my god, she’s beautiful.”  

“She’s perfect,” Nick said.  He kissed your forehead.  “Thank you, YN.”  

Eight weeks later... 

Nick’s POV 

I could listen to YN sing to our daughter forever. I watch from the doorway as she moves around the room with my princess in her arms, singing her to sleep.  She put her in her crib and looked over at me, a finger pressed to her lips.  I smile and wave her over.  She exits and closes the door behind her, the baby monitor in her hand.  “Finally,” she whispers.  

“Think she’s gonna sleep for a while?” 

“Probably a couple of hours. Why?” 

“Wanna show you how much I love you.” I kiss her gently on her lips. “I’ve missed you.”  

She smiles as she leans into me. “I’ve missed you too.”  

I scooped her up in my arms and carried her to our bed.  The bed I’m pretty sure we made our daughter in. I sit YN on the edge of the bed, and I look down at her.  Cupping her face, I pressed a kiss to her mouth, harder than before.  She melts right into it before tugging at the hem of my shirt.  I reach and pull it over my head before doing the same to hers.  

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I tell her as my eyes roam over her body.  This body that carried our girl for nine months, that feeds her every day. I push her down to her back and lift her legs so that I can pull her shorts off. She’s not wearing any panties. “Naughty girl.”  I can see her pussy glistening for me as her legs stay open. “Can I taste you, pretty girl?” 

Your POV 

You would never deny this man anything.  You nod your head, and he dives right in, kissing, licking, sucking every inch of your pussy. You try to keep your cries to a minimum, trying not to wake your daughter, but he is way too talented with that tongue. “Nicky,” you moan. “Please.”  

“Please what, gorgeous girl. Tell me what you need.”  

“I need to come.  Please baby, please.” You are withering on the bed, trying to move as he pins your to the mattress.  

“Let go for me baby, fuck you taste amazing. “He sucks on your clit one more time and the stars explode behind your eye lids.  

“That’s it baby,” he says as he kisses up your body, his fingers still working in and out.  “Fuck, need to be inside you.”  He pulls his fingers but before you can protest, his cock slides right in. “Oh fuck!” 

“Nick!” He bottoms out but still waits for you to adjust. “So big,” you gasp.  

“Still tight as fuck baby. God, I want to rail you but not right now. I want to make love to my wife, the mother of my child.”  

“I love you Nicky, so much.” Nick doesn’t thrust so much as rock into you, letting you feel every part of him. He kissed every inch of skin he could reach until you are about to combust. “I...” 

“Its ok baby, I’m right behind you,” he whispers. “We are there, the top. Its everything I ever wanted.”  

The pinnacle. The zenith.  

On top of the world.  

Just you, your daughter... 

And Nick Vaughn. 

Thank you so much for reading my little musings. Its been fun!

Taglist:

@patzammit @texmexdarling @firephotogrl74 @slutforchrisjamalevans @jennmurawski13-writes @tinkerbelle67

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 21 ~ Blurry (out of place)

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW's: ANGST, omg the angst there’s so much o.o, flashback fun for everyone! 😅, brief nonspecific flashback to csa, panic attack(s), painful wound cleaning, wishing for death, unsure of what is real but not quite unreality so make of it what you will, oh shit-almost forgot: captivity tw, restraints tw :') been awhile since i needed those lol

WC: 4237

Taglist (😱 I remembered this time!): @clairelsonao3, @dont-touch-my-soup, @kixngiggles (i've been having trouble tagging you, but i wanted to put this up here in case you see and were wondering where your tag was)

In which reality is a bit fluid, folks, and no one is happy about it

AN: Including me, I was also unhappy writing this. I need that bunker to protect myself and also to piece my heart back together.

You know that whole bit about how things get worse before they get better? Yeah, that is this :')

Carr

Carr had plenty of time to review her options as she returned to the wreckage of their carriage to search for supplies. 

If she “stumbled” into the camp’s clearing, would the reaction be more favorable if she dressed as a man or a woman? Had it been long enough for the bandits to assume the other people in the carriage had died? Surely they had searched and been curious about the lack of bodies, though. Carr tapped a grimy finger on her lip, barely even seeing the gown she’d found stuck in a bush some ways from the crash site. 

Aside from the cut on her brow, Carr was also fairly sure she didn’t look like a survivor of the kindling strewn across the ravine. Which meant she could pretend to be a runaway, but… from where? Maybe she could get away with not wanting to say. Fuck if she could even remember the places they had visited. 

So. Girl or boy? Child or adult? Found on the outskirts of camp or by the guards on the fringe or just stumbling straight into the camp, bypassing the guards altogether? 

While she could physically pass as a child at first glance, it wasn’t a ruse she could keep up for long, and she needed these people to feel sorry for her and take her in. She wrinkled her nose and smoothed Orla’s dress out on the ground in front of her. It was torn in places, which was fine since Carr wanted it to look like she’d been roughing it for a few days. It would be too short, but not by much, so it might make her look… poorer. The material was still too fucking nice, though. Maybe if she got it dirty enough, no one would notice. 

Carr left the dress behind and returned to the carriage. Or what was left of it. After a bit of digging, she found one of Orla’s headscarves, this one a pale pastel blue. Perfect; the dumb dress was blue, so it would even match. She rolled her eyes at the thought. 

Her hackjob haircut was acceptable for a boy or young man but less so for a woman. She’d never cared about her hair before and wasn’t going to start now, but if she went with the fairer option of subterfuge, she’d need an excuse for that, too. Gods, this sucked. Why did that place have to be filled with what seemed like halfway-decent people instead of a bunch of lowlifes who’d look better with a few more holes in them? 

Which was another question. How many weapons could she get away with carrying? Carr ground her teeth, knowing very well she’d be lucky to justify just one, if it was found. 

Even if she went in posing as a man, she couldn’t carry as many blades as she had on her right now. But she’d all but decided on pretending to be a woman–it seemed more likely she’d just be killed straight off as a man–so one blade it was. She’d hide the others somewhere close to the camp so they’d be nearby if she needed them. 

She tried not to think of the last time she’d donned a dress while she stripped to her underclothes and pulled on Orla’s garments–which were slightly too small in the chest and shoulders as well as too short. 

The clothes she’d discarded served as a wrap for her extra blades; the only one she’d kept was strapped to her thigh beneath her skirts, which ended at mid-calf instead of her ankles. Each breath she took was stifled, and her range of motion was shit. This was starting off just wonderfully. 

It just needed to get her into the camp, she reminded herself. Too small clothes, chopped off hair, small and skinny with a bruised face… someone would take pity on her. They had to. 

Carr hadn’t caught sight of Resh in a day and a half. She’d spent all damned day watching the fucking camp. Now dusk was approaching, and she wasn’t willing to wait another night. She needed in now, and gods help these people if she didn’t like what she found. 

~~~

Resh

Resh’s head hurt–like ice-picks stabbing his eyes, vice-grip around his temples, skull about to crack like an egg hurt. 

The pain about drowned out the red-hot pulsing under his collarbone. The rest of his body didn’t feel all that great either. 

He groaned soundlessly and tried to curl up on his side.

Resistance. He couldn’t move his arms. 

Nothing but darkness greeted him when his eyes snapped open. Which his head appreciated, but his mind not so much. Resh yanked on his arm, but the motion had no effect except to send shards of agony lancing through his chest. Shit, his ribs… gasping shallowly for air, he stilled. 

What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck

The air went nowhere as everything he thought he knew splintered and warped, aided by the throbbing in his head. He was lying on something hard, in the dark, his limbs tied down, pain splintering through every facet of his being. 

It was a dream. It had to be a dream. He squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to wake up. To not be back there. The last weeks couldn’t have been the dream. They couldn’t have they couldn’t! 

He started struggling again, hoping he would wake up if he hurt himself in real life, but a voice penetrated the weighted silence, its owner sounding as if the person was moving. Straining his ears, Resh paused, listening.  

“Burning pits, Lox, did you see his forehead? He’s a royal mage, we can’t be stealing royal mages!” 

A royal mage? Horror washed through him at the thought. Is that what the prince had done when he’d branded him? Claimed him for the Crown? Fuck; fuck! 

And who was that talking? No one spoke in his dreams but the prince, which meant… 

His stomach twisted. This was real? But then, the prince shouldn’t know about his magic, not unless he’d used it without realizing… He cringed as a vicious throb tried to liquefy his brain. It felt-it felt like a reaction headache–oh gods, what had he done?

“If such a thing even exists, we could surely ransom him. If not, could you imagine how useful a Kinetic would be? I’m not interested in killing people–I don’t want another such occurrence as what just happened. Robbing people is annoying, sure, but killing them will get us hunted down and exterminated.” 

The unknown voices moved on, becoming indistinguishable before fading away completely. The meaning of the words barely penetrated the fog of Resh’s panic, but one thing stood out. 

Ransom? But–he tugged on his wrists, wincing as coarse rope chafed his skin. Everything felt muddled and upside down and wrong and–Carr! Killing people? Carr killed people, but… that’s not what that person had meant, now was it. Resh’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might break through his chest. His eyes couldn’t penetrate the darkness, his thoughts couldn’t…

Flashes of memory, purple light flooding a carriage. He had tried so hard to cushion them with his magic… Lightning speared through his head, obliterating the memory. Resh cried out, nothing emerging but a puff of air. 

Hot tears trickled down his temples, tracking down into his hair as his breathing quickened. He’d failed. If killing people was bad, if they wanted him so it wouldn’t happen again–it meant he’d failed, that Carr and his sister were–were dead. 

He keened silently at the thought until the pain in his chest left him too breathless to continue. His mind twisted again as he lay there, panting through the waves of physical and emotional agony. 

But was that–was that real? The carriage, the crash–had that happened? Or–he pulled on his arms again–was he still in the prince’s torture chamber, awaiting the man’s next godsforsaken sadistic whim? 

Resh shuddered, his heart beating erratically while his skin flushed hot then cold, leaving him clammy and even more uncomfortable. He couldn’t–he couldn’t… His thoughts scattered, his mind shutting down. 

As pain and despair dragged him back under, he couldn’t decide which reality would be worse. 

~~~

Carr 

Branches whipped past Carr as she ran, one etching a line of fire across her cheek when she misjudged the distance in the waning light under the Seleni Wood’s canopy. Shouts echoed behind her, and an arrow whizzed past, barely missing as it embedded into a nearby tree with an ominous thud. 

Fuck fuck fuck. She’d meant to get close enough to the camp to approach one of the women, figuring she’d have better luck appealing to them than just walking into a bandit camp and looking stunned, an easy target for archery practice. 

The perimeter had been guarded more heavily than she’d been able to tell from afar. Now, she was a moving archery target. Less easy, surely, but fuck it all, not ideal. Her heart thrummed quickly enough that the individual beats were indistinguishable as she ducked under a low-hanging branch and swung around a tree, heading deeper into the underbrush. She could get away, probably. But that would defeat the purpose, so she needed to allow herself to be caught. Without getting killed, preferably. 

But the men chasing her would tackle her, take her down. The thought made her skin crawl–would they stop there, buy the not-so-much-an-act she’d put on, or would they prove to be the brand of bandits she’d originally thought they’d be? 

It’s for Resh. She repeated the thought over and over as she “tripped” and curled up on the ground, covering her scarf-wrapped head. Her body quivered for real as she awaited either an arrow to the back or rough hands grabbing her. 

Thankfully–but also not–callused fingers wrapped around her wrists in a bruising grip, forcing her arms to the ground by her head as a large man dressed in patched leathers straddled her body. 

“The fuck,” he said, staring down into what Carr supposed were her saucer-wide eyes. 

Eyes that rapidly filled with tears as she put up a weak struggle against his hold. It took everything she had not to wrap her legs around the man’s waist and flip him off her–would’ve been hard to do in the stupid too-tight dress anyway, and moreover, would’ve been suspicious. But gods. 

“What’ve you got?” another male voice called from somewhere to her left. 

“A fucking woman,” her captor responded, gripping her wrists even harder. He moved, placing one knee between her legs, which effectively pinned them in place within the prison of her skirts. 

Carr went limp, focusing all her energy on convincing her body not to fight and flee. Her heart was beating so hard she was sure the man could hear it. 

“Are there more?” a third voice asked. Crunching followed their question, the person moving with no care through the detritus of the forest. 

The man cocked a dark brow at her. “Well?” 

She shook her head frantically. “N-no. No. Please–” Her voice cracked, and she snapped her mouth closed, swallowing against the tears thickening her throat.  

Rotten breath wafted across her face while a hand swept under her skirt. 

“That’s right, be a good girl now and I’ll be nice to you, I promise.” 

One hand pinned both her wrists now while the other swept over her body, then beneath her skirt, unerringly finding the blade strapped to her thigh. 

She shivered beneath the too-large body, her cheek throbbing where he’d already hit her, her wrists aching beneath his hold. 

Her wrists ached beneath the man’s hold as he held up the dagger and laughed. “Do you even know how to use this?” 

A mixture of rage and shame set her face aflame, and the cut on her cheek throbbed. Her breath caught. 

Dark hair curled around his face, framing amused blue eyes that quickly darkened with concern. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The hand covering her mouth after she’d screamed for help was too big. It covered her nose as well and she couldn’t breathe couldn’t breathe couldn’t 

She couldn’t breathe, the air she sucked in between choked-off sobs going nowhere as she battled her past to stay in the way too similar present. 

“Shit.” The man scrambled off her, calling out to his friends. 

The words he exchanged with them made no sense through the ringing in her ears. Pinpricks of white flashed before her eyes, and aside from tucking her hands beneath her chin, Carr didn’t move–couldn’t move.  

Memory flickered in and out of her mind’s eye–no matter what, it was always this one she was thrown back into. This one that haunted her dreams. This one that paralyzed her, highlighting how fucking helpless she’d been–

Carr pushed up with a wheezing gasp, flinching as hands reached out to help her. She was not helpless; she was just pretending. Pretending pretending pretending

A hand moved over her back, up and down, up and down, and she trembled, desperately trying to keep still and allow this strange man to comfort her. 

“Hey, it’s alright,” he murmured. “I’m sorry about before, we thought… it doesn’t matter what we thought.” Leaning forward, he caught Carr’s eyes. “You with me now?” 

She nodded, averting her gaze so he wouldn’t see how much she wanted to turn and rip his hand off. Her skin prickled. 

“Look like you’ve been through it. You need help?”

Not trusting her voice, she nodded again. 

Someone scoffed. Movement caught in her peripheral vision, and she twisted her head, rearing back. The man’s hand moved, tightening around her shoulder. 

“Just gonna take her at her word? Probably some thief putting on an act.” 

Her captor-turned-protector pulled her back against his chest. She made herself melt into him, pulling up her legs to make herself smaller while the new bandit glared at her suspiciously. 

“You didn’t see her when I had her pinned. No one puts on an act like that.” Her bandit’s voice dripped with derision. 

Carr couldn’t decide if it was directed towards her or the other man. Didn’t matter, long as he decided she was worth helping. Take me back, take me back, take me back, she chanted in her head. Her body shaking like a leaf was entirely unfeigned; the reaction disgusted her, but she didn’t suppress it, letting her fucking weakness serve its purpose.  

“She needs help.”  

“So bring her some supplies and send her on her way. We gotta get back to our post,” the suspicious one said. 

“More help than that!” her bandit responded hotly. 

Carr let a small whimper escape, pressing a hand to her mouth after in a show of embarrassment. Her bandit held her closer, and she closed her eyes, trying to imagine he was Resh so she wouldn’t do something stupid like pull his dagger and slit his throat. She wanted to crawl outta her skin. She couldn’t. Couldn’t couldn’t couldn’t.

“You gonna take responsibility for her?” another voice cut in. There was an extra layer of meaning beneath their tone that Carr didn’t trust in the slightest.

Shit, she’d forgotten about the third bandit. She snapped her head around, watching that one’s approach closely. Tall and slim, with toned muscles evident beneath gear in better condition than the other two, they moved fluidly through the brush towards her. Both her bandit and the suspicious one went still, waiting quietly as they studied Carr. Clearly, that one was the leader and would be the deciding factor on whether she was getting into the camp or not.  

Carr dropped her gaze when they crouched before her, jabbing their bow into the ground to lean upon. Their gaze felt like tiny bugs crawling across her skin, and she shivered. 

After what felt like forever, they finally nodded and stood, strapping their bow over their shoulder. “Fine. Let’s get back. Lox’ll have your hide for this, just so y’know.” 

The suspicious one huffed, sounding dissatisfied.

A thrill went through Carr as her bandit assisted her to her feet, but she kept her eyes wide and expression fearful. 

“C’mon,” he said gently, settling his arm around her shoulder. 

Ugh. But she leaned into him, allowing him to lead her back to the camp. Her eyes snagged on her dagger, shoved without care through the man’s belt, and her fingers twitched, itching to thieve it back. 

Not yet. She had to pretend a bit longer. For Resh. 

~~~

Resh

A cool cloth brushed over the sensitive skin of Resh’s forehead, waking him. 

His head didn’t hurt as badly, but gods, he felt like he was on fire, his flesh burning, set aflame from a single pulsing point on his chest. 

Subtly, he pulled on his arms, only to find they were still restrained. A shiver went through him, and the cloth pulled away abruptly. 

Resh cracked open his eyes to find a stocky figure sitting beside him, the lamplight flickering over their shoulder-length blond hair. He caught a flash of green as they turned their head to the side, and his insides froze over even while the heat scalded his skin. 

“Good, you’re awake,” the figure said, turning back to him holding a wooden cup. “You need to drink.” 

He shook his head, even though his mouth was dry, so so dry. No. No no nonono he wasn’t back with the prince he wasn’t he wasn’t he–

A hand gripped the back of his head, forcing it up as the cup was pressed to his lips. Liquid poured in, and he choked, unready. It kept coming anyway, so he forced himself to drink through the coughing. It was that or drown. 

“Good, that’s good,” the prince said. 

Resh sobbed as he was released, then pressed his lips together to suppress another bubbling cough. He squeezed his eyes closed, unwilling to look at the rest of his surroundings. Unwilling to see white limestone, the final confirmation of his delusions. Real, this felt so real. Too real. 

But so had everything else! Carr, finally, finally talking to him in that meadow. Her small hands removing his gloves, resting against his cheek, soothing him after a nightmare. 

His sister, healthy, her hair growing, her skin losing its pallor. Laughing and joking and enjoying their journey. 

Had it really all been a figment of his imagination? A fever dream? He certainly felt like he had a fever. His heart cracked, the pieces crumbling as he came one step closer to believing the torture chamber was his reality. Maybe he would actually die this time, and it could all just be over. 

“He looks like shit,” a different voice said. Deeper. 

“Yeah, well. You shot him. Don’t know what you expected, really. Don’t think it hit a lung, at least, or surely he’d be dead by now.” 

He wished he was. Gods, how he wished he was.

“I need your help. Need to wash the wound out again, but he always fights, even restrained. Tore the stitches out once already.” 

A sigh, then hands clamping on his shoulders–his bare shoulders–pressing them flat against the hard surface he laid upon. Pain lanced through his chest, and he cried out soundlessly, trying to pull away. Another figure straddled his hips, pinning him down even more. 

“We’re just trying to help you!” one of them shouted at him, but he didn’t, couldn’t trust the words, especially as the liquid poured over his chest. 

He could feel it bubbling in the wound, the fire multiplied by a thousand, burrowing in to burn him alive inside now as well as out. He would’ve screamed, had the prince not ripped even that away from him already. 

“I know it hurts, and I’m sorry, but I have got to clean out the wound.” 

Lies. He wasn’t sorry. Resh shook his head from side to side, straining, desperate to get away from it. Lies lies lies lies

“He hasn’t made a single sound, but he looks like he’s screaming.” 

“Have you seen his chest? This guy has been through some shit. I don’t like doing this, Lox.” 

“It needs to be done, or he’ll die. Do you want that?” 

The words washed over Resh, a haze of agony coating everything. They didn’t make sense. Who the fuck was Lox? But he blinked as the pain died down a little, saw the prince bending over him, and didn’t know anymore. 

What was real? This pain was real–but was it? Sometimes it wasn’t, he remembered, but then more liquid poured and his mind whited out under the blistering pain and his throat strained to make sounds it was no longer capable of producing. 

When he came back around, the shape of familiar words flying off his lips–please, no more, please, no more–someone was gently patting at his chest, saying the last words he expected. 

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts. I’m trying to be as careful as I can. Sorry.” 

Exhausted, Resh laid his head back down. His shoulders were no longer pressed down, and there was no weight across his waist. He opened his eyes but allowed them to skim past that person who was the prince who wasn’t the prince because they kept apologizing every time he flinched. 

A flash of blue caught his attention, just past the large man blocking most of the doorframe across the room. The room with whitewashed wooden walls, not stone. Or was it? Oh gods. He blinked. Hazel eyes peered under the man’s–Lox’s?–arm, there and then gone so quickly Resh wasn’t sure he’d seen correctly. 

But he’d know those eyes anywhere, and his heart leapt. 

It just didn’t make sense. Nothing was making sense. 

The cup was pressed to his mouth again, and Resh swallowed this time instead of choking, grimacing at the sticky sweetness left behind on his tongue. The other man was gone by the time he finished, and so was the person in blue. 

It couldn’t have been Carr, then. 

It couldn’t have been anyway because if this was not the torture chamber, then Carr was dead. Orla was dead. He had as good as killed them, making them travel across the country with him. 

Resh turned his head away from the cup when it was offered again, and this time the prince not prince didn’t push it on him. 

He watched dully as they dimmed the lamp, then left the room, the sound of a lock snicking closed horribly familiar. 

And yet, he didn’t care. 

Worse, he decided as the room began to waver in his vision. As his heart caved in and left what felt like a jagged, fist-sized hole behind. As his chest heaved with the silent sobs he no longer bothered to hold back. This was so much worse. 

His crying sparked lancets of agony radiating across his body from the burning wound under his collarbone. Every stuttering gasp felt like inhaling shards of broken glass. He welcomed the pain. 

But whatever had been in the water fuzzed his mind, and his eyes eventually drifted closed, his breathing leveling off. The tears tracking down his temples followed him into his drugged sleep. 

~~~

Carr

Carr’s bandit marched her straight into the biggest of only three cabins in the bandit’s little valley, past the watchful eyes of probably most of the place’s inhabitants. 

Demex, he’d told her his name was.  

Well, Demex bore up against the scrutiny well, even as Carr cringed away from it. Maybe because she cringed, which he could very well tell with his arm around her shoulder, dragging her body into his side. She permitted it. She had no choice, now did she. 

For Resh. 

Demex bore up less well under Lox’s scrutiny. Carr flattened herself against the wall, ostensibly hiding behind her bandit while he got his ass handed to him, but really the positioning allowed her to see under Lox’s arm into the room he was trying to block with his body. Kind of. 

She caught flashes of someone moving around a bed. What looked like medical supplies on a nearby table, some bloodied bandages. 

And then–a pair of red-rimmed brown eyes. Their gazes met for all of five seconds before the person at his bedside blocked her view, but Carr was certain it was him. 

Her heart sped up, her breaths quickening. So fast! She couldn’t believe she’d found him so quickly. And he was alive. Her knees buckled as relief sluiced through her, and all that saved her from sliding down the wall was Demex’s hand slipping around her waist. 

“Hey there, you alright? Rowan is a little busy right now, but they can check you out in the morning, if that suits?” 

“Alright,” Carr said faintly. She willed strength back into her legs. “Wh-what now?” 

“What now is you get to talk to me,” Lox said, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him.  

The only thing that stopped her from snatching her dagger back, burying it in this guy’s chest, and bursting into that room to get to Resh was that it appeared as if they were caring for his injuries. 

And the small matter that a move like that would certainly get her killed. But she would’ve done it regardless, if she’d thought it necessary. 

Not yet, she told herself, staring up into the eyes of the man who’d chased their fucking carriage down.

Next

[lamarckianenterprises]

On Alledgely Intelligent Machines

All of this reminds me of like, two to three years ago when AI Dungeon 2 was this hot young thing and 'respectable' gaming news sites were posting opinion pieces about the wild unrestricted adventures they were having on it and how it would change the way they roleplayed forever, even though it was this bumbling, lawless thing that could barely find the plot to lose most of the time.

And then fast forward a year or so and we find out that the algorithm isn't magic, and that prompting it with 'the end' specifically outputs a 'thanks for reading, please donate to my patreon' message lifted from all of the thousands upon thousands of poor schumcks who had the misfortune of deciding to share their work online for other people to freely read.

All of this 'AI is progressing too rapidly and will one day very soon develop into real AGI that will change the world' malarkey is just jingling keys. I think it's called Longtermism, they want us to fret and fuss about how this will affect the lives of our great great great grandchildren commutting to Mars 200 years from now, and not about how this is affecting real people today.

"Think about how neat it would be to have an AI that can answer all of the questions left in the universe for us" Sam says, as his company hurriedly cuts ties with the underpaid Kenyan workers manually sorting and tagging the database his LLMs are based on.

"Look at how well it rhymes now, this will definitely distrupt the Poetry Industry which definitely is a thing that exists in real life I am a real scientist I know these things," his employees say, in a research paper hyping up their own product while they improve its ability to deepfake images that gradually erodes any trust we still have in our society.

All the while touting the most mediocre, average examples of just about any creative field as proof of its rapid, inevitable and perpetually explosive growth as if it was the figurative Antichrist heralding the coming of the Son of God and the Kingdom of Heaven.

I miss when we just let these things run rampant without a single care for consistent style and realism because we enjoyed witnessing what utter insanity it came up with, I miss when it was just a 'neat tool' that could maybe provide a freaky background or add trippy dogfaces to your clouds, I miss when we were wondering about what all of this weirdness said about what understanding language and having pattern recognition means when it's divorced entirely from reality instead of wondering how quickly we can refine and normalize its output well enough to mechanize all forms of artistry.

And above all else I miss not hearing about it, because honestly it still isn't that good. The slightly uncanny photos, mass art style plagiarism module and extremely resource intensive shorts are neat and all but, when it comes to prose, and DMing?

Well let's just say that AI Dungeon 2 crawled so that ChatGPT can sorta aimlessly waddle around in those babywalker things that seem neat and helpful, but are actually deathtraps that can cause long term health and developmental issues by actively preventing your child from spending the time they need to crawl around and develop the motoric skills and musculature needed to stand and fail repeatedly at walking. (Which is why they have been banned in Canada since 2004.)

_____

Maria D.R./Lamarck is an Indonesian writer whose boomer mother has talked about how great AI is to me and everyone in her social circle every damned day since ChatGPT was released.

[miscfandomwrites]

Mama Chapter Twelve

A/N: Inbox is open! And please let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this series. 

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings:

Words: 1.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“You’re joking!” Wanda exclaimed loudly enough for me to shush her and remind her that Lillith was taking a nap. 

She leaned closer to Natasha and yell-whispered : “Please tell me you at least got a photo of that!” 

Natasha just grinned and showed her the phone screen, which made Wanda gasp and grab it to show me. 

Apparently Bruce and Tony did something in the lab because both weren’t wearing shirts. And from what I could glimpse of the photo before Wanda whisked it away again, was that both of them were covered in a blue powder. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked as I dumped another cup of flour into the bowl. 

“All I heard was yelling and then when I went to look, both of them stood apart from each other covered in it.” She replied. 

I hummed as I worked the yeast mixture in with the flour, and then returned the flour back into the cupboard. Getting the oil and salt from the same cupboard, I turned and quickly measured it into the bowl. I knew I had some work I wanted to get started on soon but with the meeting tonight and the fact that Clint wasn’t here and he asked specifically for me started my anxiety ramping. I had a feeling this was one of those missions that he was pulled aside by the team for and told that someone else would step in because it was too dangerous, and that he’s got a family, and since I’ve barely been on a handful of missions since I joined the Avengers (Due to time and Lillith) this would be a major one. 

That’s not to say that I was more replaceable than Clint was ; I understood the need for me to go on this mission despite my daughter. I was a supersoldier, and I’ve been through hell and back several times. It was a proven fact that I could survive things a normal human couldn’t. 

I remember one of the mission briefing folders I went over when I first joined. I had spent about a week gathering information beforehand on the team. One of the files I pulled was about what was priority if a mission went south really quickly. The main goal was for everyone to walk out alive, but in this case it was Sam and Clint first, because both didn’t have a full metal suit protecting them all the time and weren’t wearing decent armour due to their skillsets. So those two would be first, then it would be Tony and Wanda. Tony because despite the tin man’s suit, he was still a regular human. And a slightly old one at that. Wanda because she was deemed the best ‘asset’ to shield, with her set of...abilities. Then it would be us, the soldiers, then Hulk and Thor. 

Honestly the reports and such on how the missions were supposed to be conducted were pretty smart, and would be extremely effective if anyone actually paid any attention to them. 

I mixed in the ingredients and shook out some flour from a bowl onto the countertop. God, I love having a kitchen island. Bread is so much easier to make. I dumped the bread mix onto the counter and put the bowl in the sink, and started the process of kneading the dough until it was a soft, squishy ball. 

Wanda and Natasha discussed what exactly happened in the lab, and if Stark and Banner might be trying to hide something from the rest of the team, and I turned my focus inwards, trying to remember the list of tasks I needed to finish for this job. 

They wanted it color coded and be able to run the site the same on mobile as on computers, as well as the possibility of an app. Man, an app would take awhile to make. How much are they paying me again? If it’s not over-

“Oh. Hi everyone!” Chirped a slightly sleepy voice from the right of me. I turned my head to see Lillith, a blanket around her shoulders and hugging her wolf close to her chest. I smiled at the site of her blearly rubbing her eyes before checking the clock on the far wall. She’d slept for almost two hours. 

“Hey, babydoll.” I said as she came up and peered over the counter to see what I was doing. 

“Bread!” She exclaimed, jumping up and down.

I laughed, “Yes, bread.” I said as I slapped it down again and started folding it into a ball.

“Hey Lillith, you wanna watch some movies?” Wanda asked her.  She nodded and followed her into the living room as I put the ball into a greased bowl and covered it with a damp towel. 

Natasha was still on her phone as I cleaned up the counter and washed my hands, and then as I switched laundry. 

I moved to my working area near the bay windows and set a cup of coffee down and booted up the system, as I stretched and glanced at the clock. 

Better get going. 

~~

The next few hours were busy, and ended with me getting up to get another cup of coffee only to learn that there wasn’t any more. And it was almost seven. Wanda had made some dinner and Lillith was watching a disney movie with her on the couch, and Natasha was on her laptop-When she went and got it was beyond me-at the kitchen counter. 

I put my hair up and washed my hands, then took preheated the oven and floured the table.

“Mind if I ask what you’re working on?” I asked her as I shook the dough out of the bowl. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow,

“Honestly nothing much. Mostly just research for tonight’s meeting.” She replied as she sipped her water.

“Should I be worried about it?” I asked her. 

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Our last mission scratched the surface of a bigger Hydra hole, and from the look of it, it’s gonna take several outings to exterminate them all.” 

“Damn. That bad?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She replied. 

I shook my head and started to work the dough. Finally getting it to the consistency I needed, I greased and floured a bread pan and dropped the dough in it. The beep from the oven told me it was ready to be put in, and I set the time for twenty five minutes. I cleaned up the counter and did dishes, then went and switched some laundry and busied myself until it went off again. 

Finally the timer went off and I took it out of the oven and turned it off, and let it cool off before I transferred it to a cutting board. 

I washed up in the meantime and setup another movie for Lillith. Kissing her forehead, I left with the girls to head to the meeting.

~~

“In English, please.” I told Steve as he finished his story about the previous mission. 

“Basically we uncovered a long-term operation by Hydra. We thought it wouldn’t take much but it got to the point where we had to retreat because of how overwhelmed we were getting. And now we need to go back to finish the job, if they haven’t moved on yet. That, and the fact that we know there are two secondary locations we will need to ‘visit’ later.” Bucky summarized.

“And my role in this is..?” I asked. 

“You’re taking my place.” Clint said. He was on call with us, and I could faintly here the kids in the background.

“How bad are we talking?” I asked him.

“Angel of Death bad.” He told me. 

I took a deep breath and steeled myself, letting the process of my instincts take over. 

“Okay.” I replied.

“Angel of Death?” Bruce asked.

“Back when I was in the Marines, my callsign was ‘Angel of Death’. When I was put onto my…special squadron the name carried over. It’s one of the reasons why Fury asked me to join.” I told him.

“Are we talking like my bad, or how bad does it get?” Bucky asked. 

I looked to him. “If I switch into that headspace it’s going to be bad.” I answered. He nodded in response.

“Let’s go over the plans again. We’re leaving at four tomorrow morning.” Steve said.

[streamafterlaughter]

Fundamental Differing

gif credit

Prologue

masterlist | companion playlist

summary: short blurb for the sake of context! this scene takes place in 1989, 3 years prior to the rest of the story.

tags: eddie munson x reader, gn!reader, rockstar!eddie, angst, hurt/eventual comfort, slow burn, pining, heartbreak, all that good stuff

a/n: welcome back to the new kid!verse my friends, i hope you missed me! enjoy the prologue to the angstiest idea i’ve ever had. Please reblog to support the author!

Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated.

Autumn, 1989

Your POV

“I can’t keep doing this, Eddie. I don’t want this anymore.” You’re pacing aimlessly around your apartment, the old wood creaking under your bare feet.

“I just don’t understand why you’re so upset. You knew this was gonna happen, I told you things would be different.” His voice cracks, but he manages to keep it together. He blocks you as you try to enter your bathroom to grab your toiletries.

“Different doesn’t mean worse. This is worse. I don’t see you anymore, and when I do, you’re mean. You’ve been at ‘practice’ every night this week, not once calling to let me know you’d be home late. I know you guys are working hard, and I get it. I don’t wanna hold you back anymore.” You bite your bottom lip and look into his eyes, for the first time in the last hour. You’re exhausted, hating to have to keep fighting for a relationship clearly on its deathbed.

“Hold me back? Baby, I-“

You shake your head. You’d been seeing it for months, the way he’d hesitate to tell you where he’s going, or all the good things happening for Corroded Coffin. You’d been supportive of his dreams this entire time, while still trying to get Death Dance off the ground. But you still made time for him, only to be stood up for his band, or his new groupies, or his manager-in-training. You felt left behind, but also couldn’t find it in you to fight. He was happy, regardless of how sad you had become.

“I am so proud of you, Eddie. I wanna make that clear. I will never, ever not be proud of you. But I can’t be your plan B. I can’t keep sitting around hoping you’ll still love me when you finally get big, or wait until you give up and resent me forever.”

“What are you suggesting, then?”

“I’m moving in with Robin, she’s already got a room for me.”

You watch as Eddie’s face falls, almost hearing the sound of his heart breaking. “Y/n …” It falls out of his mouth like a rotten tooth, and you can’t bring yourself to answer him. “You’re leaving me?”

You nod once, and shove past him, into the bathroom. You close the door behind you, sliding down to the floor where you drop your head into your hands. Losing Eddie was never the plan, the last thing you ever saw yourself doing. But your relationship had become toxic, bitter on both sides when you should have been supporting each other. It’s not what you want to do, but you’re convinced it’s the only way to heal, to grow into the person you’ve set out to become. But god, does growing hurt like a bitch.

You take a deep breath and bring yourself to your feet. Everything you own is shoved into backpacks and plastic grocery bags, and you exit the bathroom with another full bag in your arms. Not even stopping to look at Eddie, you snatch the rest of your belongings and head into the chill of the night, the tears in your eyes stinging your cheeks as the wind blows. You don’t look back.

—

It’s short on purpose i’m trying to leave u wondering!!! see u soon for chapter 1!

chapter I

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance | send a message to be added🫶

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #23)

Alright, here we go with another angsty mess nightmare hospital chapter. 

So grateful to @not-a-space-alien, @kitn-underfoot, and @thegodmother007 for beta reading and giving me some awesome feedback!  

Chapter #23. Will our hero make it out of surgery and finally be done with this mess?

Previous: Chapter #22

Next: Chapter #24

Word Count: 8,904 Read Time: Approx. 60 mins

CW: adult language, extreme angst, dehumanization, infantilization, fearplay, injury, blood, surgery

Tag list: @gatlily @grbene @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007, @honey-olive, @bittykimmy13 ,@aceouttatime, @imvenusasaboy, @liminaldaze, @windshield-patent, @joxter-coded, @rosella35, @narrans, @rubeau-art, @littlescaryinternetguy, @jae-from-discord, @kitn-underfoot, @secretly-small, @writing-forever, @iinogongju, @tales-of-aestus

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

_____________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #21: Malpractices

[Natalie’s POV]

My leg bounced feverishly up and down as I sat up, board straight, teetering on the edge of the hard, plastic chair. It’d been 47…. No, make that 48 minutes since he’d been taken away. I couldn’t help but worry. Who could blame me? It was the first time since I’d found him that we’d been apart and I didn’t know he was somewhere safe and sound. 

I pictured him making fun of me for stressing so much, like some overly protective mother hen. He had no problem standing up for himself, I knew that. But then, the image of his little face when he was plucked out of my hands came to mind: his clear, blue irises wide and glistening with fear. He was strong, devilishly smart and extraordinarily brave, but he was still so very, very small, and, as much as I knew he’d resent the accusation, he was, also, fragile. I pictured just how tiny his hand was, fingers spread as he squeezed the tip of my pinky, barely able to grip onto the whole of it. Alexander could hiss and spit all he wanted, but the tech that had taken him away could still pin him down with just one finger. 

But it was fine, right? They can’t run and operate a business with neglect and not be called out for it, right?? Was he all worked up for nothing? Was I? I mean, I couldn’t blame the little man…. Being handed off to strangers who were twenty times bigger, a hundred times stronger and not likely to explain just what they were going to do to him, would terrify anyone. They were just running tests though, right? I imagined they’d need to take his vitals and possibly x-ray his knee to see how damaged it was.

But it wasn’t that, alone, that had made him tremble from head to toe and cling to the fabric of my shirt…. He seemed convinced that they might hurt him, mess up his treatment, kill him. He seemed keenly aware that it’d happened before, which utterly broke my heart. 

For the past half hour, I’d furiously scrolled through every review site I could find, double and triple checking for any sign that something could be amiss. I found nothing. Just run-of-the-mill posts about treating a cat’s ear infection or resetting a parrot’s broken wing. Still, I couldn’t seem to drop this chilling sense of dread. It didn’t escape my notice that there was practically nothing in-depth about treating little people like Alexander in any of the reviews, just mostly animals. I chewed on the beds of my nails absentmindedly as I fought to stay calm. 

 My knee continued to bounce, the rubber heel of my shoe keeping time on the discolored linoleum tile. Why did I have this sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach? It wasn’t just because the environment around me was cheap and dilapidated…. Was it because the doctor had been dismissive of him in his initial exams? The thing was, he was just right there, beyond that metal door. I could rush in there and pluck him up before they could call security. Maybe? I didn’t know. I had no idea what kind of labyrinth of hallways and doors and operating rooms laid beyond the metal threshold before me. 

The thought of him being afraid or in pain in any way, was unbearable to me. What if he needed me and I wasn’t there? What if he was trembling head to toe like he had just a little less than an hour ago, whimpering in my cupped hand? What if he was scared and all alone, right now, and all I was doing was just sitting here… waiting…. Had I let him down? Had I put him in danger by trying to get him help? 

Or was I just having some sort of savior complex because I felt this intense need to control the world around Alexander?

I knew I had the best of intentions, but still…. I felt this need to know exactly where and how he was at all times. I shuddered remembering when I’d plopped him down in a box and expected him to stay there all afternoon, or when I’d trapped him inside my bedside table drawer, all alone, because he’d hurt my feelings. Was this another instance of me being overly controlling? Was I underestimating him, even now? To me, he was such a breakable little thing, easily bruised by this world that was much too big for him. 

The way he’d clung to my fingers, the fabric of my shirt…. I’d never seen him so vulnerable and afraid before. I’d never seen him look so small before. I jumped to my feet, my heart in my throat. He was just beyond that door. I took a few steps forward, watching with fixated curiosity as the wavy and warped reflection of my figure mocked me in the metal surface like some kind of twisted fun house mirror.  What if I just checked on him? For a second? They wouldn’t kick us out for that would they? The tips of my fingers journeyed through the ever-shrinking gap between my body and the boundary separating him and me. In the next beat of my heart and bat of my eyelashes, the whorls of my fingertips pressed into cool metal. Just for a second. I just want to see his little eyes and know he’s okay. 

Before I could apply any pressure, the door pushed back. I had no time to react before the doctor and a tech, the same girl in the purple scrubs that had carried him off, burst through the threshold. All three of us jumped, startled by what we unexpectedly found right in front of us. 

The doctor had been the one to shove the door open, and now here we stood toe to toe. Had I noticed before how much taller he was than me? He was the first to wrestle his words into speech after the shock, “E-excuse me, Ms. Marquez, what do you think you’re doing?” We stood uncomfortably close, neither giving ground.

“Where is he?” My voice wavered in such a way that exposed how nervous I really was. I clenched my jaw, trying to pull it together.  

“There’s nothing to worry about ma’am…. Please, have a seat…” The words, meant to be reassuring, came from a voice I hadn’t heard very much before: crisp, coaxing, female. On my left, the vet tech was halfway through the door which she propped open with an elbow. I searched her bare hands, feverishly, for a shock of blonde bangs and blue eyes. They were empty. I panicked. 

 “Wait… w-where is he? Why’s he still back there? Is he okay? Is he all alone? Is he scared? I need to know he’s okay—“ 

 “Of course! Of course, you’re concerned. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly safe and comfortable. If you’ll just take a seat, Doctor Greene will be more than happy to answer any questions you might have….” Her smile was blindingly bright, her eyes shimmering and earnest. The doctor nodded along with her as she spoke, raising his brows expectantly in my direction, when she was finished. I froze. Was I being a complete idiot right now? Was Alexander perfectly okay and I was looking insane for wringing my hands over him? But then why wasn’t he back in my arms safe and sound? What did they need to tell me? I just wanted to see him. Before I could process, those disappointingly empty hands with their chipped, dark polish, were lightly resting on my shoulders, guiding me away from the door and back where I began, seating me in that hard plastic chair. 

 I stammered, “W-what’s wrong with him? Why won’t you bring him out here? All he needed was medicine for the infection, right?” As I hurled my volley of questions, the doctor, who I just now noticed had a file tucked under his arm and no longer sported his white coat, sat down and wheeled over to the examination counter, placing the file flat on its surface and resting his elbows so that his poised hands came to rest below his chin. As he did this, the tech settled in the back corner of the room, leaning against a cabinet in the corner halfway in front of the door that lead to Alexander. My pulse pounded away in my skull, that tan folder with its unknown contents burned a hole in my periphery as I stared into the veterinarian’s bespectacled eyes. 

 He cleared his throat as I gripped the rough underside edge of my seat, “First off, I want to apologize for the lengthier than usual wait time on our initial examinations. It’s nothing at all to worry about. I promise, your companion is in very attentive and focused hands, here. Isn’t that right, Nina?” The tech nodded in agreement, smiling again. Why did his tone shift ever so slightly when he included her in the narrative? “Now, to the matter at hand. Unfortunately, the damage is, well, worse than we thought…” my stomach dropped at those words. As he continued, he reached for the file between us, “If we take a look at these… Nina, if you will?” 

 He flipped the file open to reveal a paper splotched with deep, inky blacks and ghostly, silvery whites. I couldn’t tell what I was looking at. Nina stepped forward at his command, clutching the paper, she turned from me and flipped on the light box mounted on the wall to my left. 

She spoke as she worked, “Your little friend is awfully cute. I can tell he’s a little spitfire, though, too! But, hey, don’t worry, he just needed some gentle coaxing and he was the perfect little patient!” Why did my hackles raise at that? I had a hard time believing her. It wasn’t easy to get Alexander to do anything he didn’t want to. Was he really just scared enough to be docile for once in his life? That didn’t seem like the fiery little man I knew at all. 

 Before I could follow up with more questions, the room was cast into darkness, as she flipped off the lights and clipped up the paper on the illuminated display. Suddenly, the smoky shapes came in to clear focus in the backlight. It was an X-ray. It was his x-ray. I was looking at Alexander’s skeleton. My blood pumped faster in my veins, as my brow furrowed and I felt a tightness in the back of my throat. I couldn’t help but clamor to my feet to get a closer look. Because he was so small, he fit head to toe inside the image, the only part of him that was cut off was his left shoulder and leg on the right side of the display. That was him, his tiny little skeleton, blown up larger than life on a pitch black background. This image of him was at least four of five times larger than the real thing. Even then, how fragile those little bones looked! None of them were thicker than two fingers pressed together. My eyes went immediately to his right knee joint. I was no medical professional, but I didn’t need to be to see the sharp, black line that cut across his bone just above the knee. A complete break, not just a fracture. The blurry white mess that was his actual knee seemed to show how damaged it was. Poor little Alexander had been hobbling around on a broken leg? 

 With a grunt, the doctor rose from his seat and shuffled over to the display, “As you can see, the joint is severely damaged and there appears to be a significant break on the very base of the femur. Have you been allowing him to exercise? Put any unnecessary strain on it?” 

 “N-no. Not that I know of. I’ve been trying really hard to keep him still and off his feet as much as possible…” But it was anyone’s guess what he’d endured before I found him. He wouldn’t tell me anything. 

 “It appears the damage has been exacerbated by too much weight on the wound… wear and tear from strenuous over-use…” for some reason, he darted a glance at the black-haired tech, before clearing his throat, “In any case…. Nina, turn on the light, if you want it to heal right, he’ll need surgery to reset the bone and to flush out the infection, which has spread to a critical extent…” the room was flooded with blinding fluorescent light, once more, making me wince as my eyes fought to adjust and I struggled to understand him. 

 My world stopped as what he was saying finally hit me like a ton of bricks. I managed to stutter out just one word, “S-surgery??” I parroted it back like an idiot. The thought of his tiny little body being operated on by their comparatively massive hands sent shivers down my spine. 

 “Yes.” His response was simple and blunt, I stood, rooted to the spot, in shock, “Please sit.” As he beckoned for me to be seated he fetched the X-ray from its no longer illuminated display box and sat down, pulling a sharpie pen from the breast pocket of his scrubs, “So, we’d make an incision here, just above the break—“ he began marking the ghostly image of Alexander’s leg with the pitch black ink. I interrupted.

 “W-wait, wait, wait. Surgery? Are you sure there’s no alternatives? He can’t just, like, I don’t know, have a stint or something?” 

 The doctor’s exhale sounded almost amused as he removed his glasses to polish them on the bottom hem of his scrubs. “My understanding is you have no insurance. Is that correct?” 

 “…. Well, y-yes….”

 “I want to be completely honest with you. The fact of the matter is, this particular procedure will be costly without insurance. And, not only that, performing these kinds of operations on such small animals carries with it a significant risk—“

 “—He’s not an animal…He’s a person, just like you or me… he’s just littler, that’s all….”

 “O-of course! Of course he is! He seems very smart, too!” Nina was smiling brilliantly again. I clenched my teeth. I was beginning to dislike her.

 “It is my professional opinion that an operation will be necessary to save Alexander’s life. Now, I understand you may be hesitant, due to the upfront cost–”

 I snapped back, a newfound edge in my voice, “I don’t give a fuck what it costs, I just want him to be okay. Is that a clear enough answer for you? And, anyway, he should have some say in this. It’s his body, after all. Have you told him yet? Bring him here, and I’ll make a decision with him.”

 Another exchange of charged glances, and then a blunt response from the doctor, “Unfortunately we can’t do that.” 

 My heart was pounding faster and the room suddenly felt hot, I scowled and spoke through clenched teeth, on the razor’s edge of holding it together, “What do you mean you can’t??? You most certainly can. I have a right to see him. If he’s fine, like you say, then there’s no reason why you can’t let me talk with him, right now.” 

 The doctor leaned away from me, rolling his chair a bit further back, almost as if in a protective stance between myself and the door that continued to bar my way, “To clarify, what I mean is that would be a very bad idea. You see, in our experience, reintroducing the patient to…. The human they’re most familiar with after they’ve been properly acclimated and relaxed, will only serve to significantly agitate and generate an undue amount of stress for the patient right before major surgery. It is best to keep them calm and in one location prior to operating. You wouldn’t want to frighten him, would you?” 

 “Well, no, of course not, but—“ 

 “—and, as for his consent to the operation, we, of course, agree with you wholeheartedly, that your companion should have a voice, however, we, unfortunately, live in a world where only your signature is binding.” By the time he finished his speech, he’d rolled back to the edge of the counter opposite me. 

 I swallowed, my nervous system awash with adrenaline, my mind abuzz with fear and frustration. I just wanted to see him, to know he was okay, to hold him and never let him go again, “You say he’s just waiting back there? He’s not in pain? He hasn’t asked for me?” 

 The vet tech replied, her intended reassurance somehow unsettling to me, “Believe me, we made sure he was as relaxed as possible before we came in here to talk to you. He’s in no pain, whatsoever.” 

 “A-and there’s no alternative to keep him from having to go under?” 

 “Unfortunately, no.” It was her boss’s turn to reply. All I could think about was the look on Alexander’s face when he begged me not to let them put him to sleep. My chest tightened, the doctor carried on, “The infection is getting worse by the minute. It’s highly possible, if not probable, that if left untreated, it will develop into sepsis, which can lead to organ failure. In addition, he likely won’t walk again if the leg doesn’t have the chance to heal properly. He’s stable at the moment, but he needs to be treated now to prevent further complications…” I blinked hard, trying to settle the fire alarm fire blazing in the back of my skull. I gaped, like a fish, my eyes darting from my own hands, clasped tightly together, and back up to the doctor. 

 “I-I just want him to come out of this okay…” As I stammered, the tech fished for and offered me a document, flipping it open to a signature line, while the doctor offered me a hefty ballpoint pen from his front pocket. 

 “Then all you have to do is sign and date right here and we’ll get your little guy all patched up!” A painted nail tapped along the dotted line. I stared hard at the black blocks of text on white printer paper, but couldn’t make sense of any of them.

 It didn’t seem like I had any choice. He could die if something wasn’t done, and fast. My heart was thundering in my chest. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to help him. He was a fighter, he’d fight through this too. The least I could do was give him a chance. Then, when it was all done, I’d do everything I could to help him get back to normal as soon as I could hold him in my arms again. The sound of an impatient cough broke me from my train of thought. 

 “So? How would you like to proceed?” 

 I bit my lip, my head on fire. I reached for the pen, unable to think about anything other than those two frightened little eyes, “You promise me you’ll take good care of him? That you’ll be gentle? He-he means a lot to me. I don’t— I don’t know what I’d do if anything….” I choked on the words as my eyes welled. I cleared my throat to hold it down. “I’m not going anywhere until I’m holding him again and I know he’s safe and sound.” 

 “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Like we said, we think he’s just precious. It’s always such an honor to take care of other people’s companions. He’ll be back to normal in no time.” That blinding smile. Paper pushed forward. The pen, slippery between my clammy fingers. I swallowed, hands trembling, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. 

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

I was floating, weightless, not quite alive, not quite dead. I felt nothing, I had no sense of my body, where I was in space, or time, for that matter. I was asleep, but dreaming in vivid color of nothing put velvety blackness stretching on for eternity. Who and what was I? I didn’t have the faintest idea. 

Then, as if honing in on some distant frequency, like sudden static from an alien satellite transmission, I heard a babbling of noises, coupled with a repetitive sound, like a beeping, that cycled at seemingly regular intervals.  

They were incomprehensible at first, these sounds, just irritants, loud and untranslatable. But slowly, slowly, this floating, weightless, thing that was and wasn’t me, whoever that was, began to stitch the sounds together into… words. 

Floating above my consciousness like some ethereal notes in some unknown symphony, I found descriptors for these sounds, or, I think they were called, voices? One sounded female, the other male. I couldn’t, at that moment, remember what those descriptors implied, but I, somehow, knew they were apt. As I floated along in darkness, those words began to form snatches of sentences. 

 The male was first, “Wait, wait, you actually said that?” 

Then the female, “Fuck yeah, I did. I was like, ‘Lady, your little dude literally could not be more relaxed’ and she was just all, ‘Oh, o-okay’. Like, I won’t lie, for a minute there I thought we were gonna have to call security, but she totally ate it up after a while…” 

“No shit?” 

“That’s the thing, Greene pegged her for one of those overly-concerned types. So, it wasn’t hard to build up the drama of it all. These little guys are, like, cash cows if we put them under the knife…”

“Really? Why? Cuz they’re basically the same as people?”

“Yeah. Dude, look I know you’re new and everything but did you not pay attention at all in school? You have to take a whole extra semester of classes just to be qualified to operate on ‘em. And, yeah, he’s still sorta in hot water from the shit that went down a few months ago, but, like, it’s not like Miss Worry Wart and her pissed off little chihuahua here, will ever know about it. I think Greene’s smart to go after the money. Anyway, he showed her how bad the break was and pushed her to go for it. Don’t tell Greene this, but I think the full break in his femur might be our fault. We might’ve been a little too rough– Don’t say a fucking word, Jason, you toyed with him just as much as I did…” 

More sounds accompanied my non-existence as I heard things I think I remember calling footsteps and the scraping of chair legs on a linoleum floor, a new gruff voice, male. Barking, commanding. All the while that same beeping sound, keeping rhythm like a… metronome? Was that the proper term? 

I heard words like scalpel, incision, stable, antibiotic. I had a sense I was once familiar with them. 

However, as the unknown length of time pressed on, my endless floating began to change. Numbness no longer permeated all around. I slowly began to sense that I was…. Lying down? That I was…. Cold? Very, very cold. Or was I hot? That rhythmic sound changed its beat, getting faster. I heard, “vitals shifting” from… one of those voices? Or all three? I knew, now, I had a body, even if I couldn’t feel it. Well, not all of it. 

As though waking from a dream, second by second, feeling returned. Like a kettle slowly rising to a feverish, shrieking boil, I too, began to feel a tingling, which turned into a hazy ache, that cascaded into a burning, a searing, an excruciating wildfire of pain exploding from my leg. The background rhythm was beeping like crazy now, inconsistent and frightening. The part of me I remembered as a chest was heaving up and down. 

Above all that, came loud, thundering, angry voices, like gods threatening to rent the sky in two with their rage. 

The gruff, male voice was accusatory, “How much, Nina? How much did you administer?” 

A female voice, high, defensive, “W-well, I didn’t wanna over do it! Look at him, he’s tiny!”

A third, panicked, “His heart rate is spiking, he’s destabilizing… h-he’s coming to!” 

“Nina, you have to tell me what you gave him or I’ll end up killing the little bastard. How much?” 

“Shit! I gave him 0.2 milliliters, okay??” 

The panicked male rejoined, “I told her that wasn’t enough, sir! I said—“ 

“Oh shut up, why don’t you? I can’t trust  either of you. It’s a simple fucking task… and you two still fuck it up—“ 

Like being suddenly and forcefully pulled from the quiet, rocking depths of the ocean to flounder helplessly on the deck of a boat, gasping for air and waiting for death, all medicinal haze was ripped away and I was fully aware, fully awake and fully alive to the absolute horror that was my situation. 

The sounds of my own screaming seemed separate from me, as I sat up, flailing, bloodshot eyes wide and twitching. I heard the voices of the creatures so much bigger than me up above. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, restrain him before he fucks this up!” 

 In one panicked, fear filled heart beat, I took it all in: blinding, painful overhead light, blue, monstrous tendrils, encased in latex, like some kraken with twenty powerful appendages instead of just eight, surrounded me. The human fingers were all so huge and overwhelming. There was something shoved down my throat, slick, clear, it snaked off to an unknown destination, on my chest, something adhesive, thick, stiff, with wires protruding from it, an electrode for an electrocardiograph, but seemingly for a much larger life-form than myself. Without hesitation, I pulled on the tube, but was barely able to wrap a fist around it before.. 

“Oh no you don’t, stay still!” Those disembodied fingers wrested it away from me and pinned me back down against the metal surface below. I didn’t want them to touch me, I had to get free. Snarling and screaming, I writhed and kicked, but that quickly came to an end when my entire body was suddenly wracked with a sharp, biting, fresh sensation: the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt in my life. 

“Shit.”

Through the tears welling in my eyes, I hazarded a glance down at my leg. What I saw there made me nearly pass out. 

 Blood was spewing, thick, red, hot, horrendous. My knee was all red, open flesh, slick and horrific. The source of this brand new pain? Still pinched between his fingers, the blade of the scalpel, massive, razor sharp, was buried in the flesh of my knee. I was screaming and wailing, trembling from head to foot. 

 Meanwhile, the man wielding the instrument of death above my head, simply scowled as though he’d found a bruise on his apple or a fly in his drink. He grimaced at his surgical tool in my leg like it was some mildly frustrating inconvenience that was interrupting his work. Planting a finger on my ankle and a thumb on my thigh, he pinched the handle of the blade and ripped it from my leg. My ears rang as my vision faded momentarily. 

 He replaced the bite of the scalpel with pressure from a thumb pressing a strip of gauze to staunch the bleeding, over his shoulder, he regarded his inferior, “Well, at least this one isn’t dead because of your little mishap. Where’s Lindsey? She’s the only person here I can trust to do anything right the first time.” 

 “Y-you put her on laundry…. Sir….”

 “Go get her.” The young man stared at his boss, with a dumbfounded expression, “That means now, Jason! Goddammit, I’m surrounded by idiots! As for you, Nina. This is the last straw. Pull this shit again and you’re fired. I’ve already got the AHA crawling up my ass about the last case. Go home, I don’t want to see you till Monday.” 

 “-But… I was just having fun with the little guy, I didn’t mean—“ 

 “Monday. 6 am. Got it?” 

 “You know this little fucker bit me? Maybe we shouldn’t waste all our time and effort and just put him down for aggressive behavior!” 

 “Nina, go home!” And with a dissatisfied sigh, she was gone from my field of vision. He spoke, but not to me, “I’m getting way too old for this shit…” I felt eyes trained on me for a split second, before the sound of a door squealing open, caused us both to turn our heads in its direction. 

 Lindsey practically ran in, Jason, seemingly with no sense of urgency whatsoever, following behind. 

 Breathless, the kind woman rushed over to where I lay. The man pressing his thumb into my open flesh, bellowed at her, “Lindsey, finally! I’ve staunched the bleeding. Clean up this godforsaken mess, intubate him, suture the site of incision, blah, blah. You know what you’re doing. I need a fucking cigarette… or ten. Come get me when it’s time for client delivery. Ah, and Jason…. You’ve proven today to be utterly useless, too. Go home and get out of my hair before you make my migraine any worse.” 

 The grumbling voices and movements of the men faded from my notice as the young woman with bright, hazel eyes stared down at me with true compassion. I was a pathetic mess, face streaked with tear stains, the plastic tubing thrust down my throat, half naked and trembling as my knee lay cut open and thoroughly rent. 

 “You poor, poor little thing. What’d they do to you? Are you in pain?” I nodded furiously, tears threatening to fall again. My breathing was ragged. Every muscle in my body ached. I didn’t have the energy to make noise anymore, let alone put up a fight. 

 “Of course you are. Okay, well I promise you I will help you. I’ll do everything I can to help. It’s Alexander, right? I’m Lindsey. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this, Alexander. Look at me, hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry. You’ll be back home in no time. But first, I need your help, alright? Will you help me? I need to close up this wound here, so you can start to heal. But, that’s going to be extremely painful if you’re awake. Do I have your permission to put you to sleep so you won’t feel anything?” I jumped, snarling and shaking my head,  “I promise, I know how to do it correctly. You won’t wake up in the middle of it, this time. Look, here, I’ll show you exactly what I’m gonna do. You see your knee, how it’s still all cut open and exposed? I’m going to stitch that all back together, with one line down the middle and a horizontal line above your knee. You’ll have a “T” shaped scar once it heals. All the infection is cleared out and, hopefully you’ll regain full use of that joint after the bone in your leg fuses back. But I don’t know for sure, now that you got an abrasion from a scalpel on top of everything else. Hey, don’t squirm… try to lie still… I know you don’t know me, but I need you to trust me, okay? I wanna see you reunited with… What’s your friend’s name? Is it… Natalie?” I nodded, noticing how my heart fluttered and the machine with its beeping gave away the increase in my heartrate, “I wanna see you reunited with Natalie as soon as possible. You want that, too, don’t you?” I nodded, gritting my teeth through the constant pain, “I’ll make you another promise in return, okay? I won’t leave your side and I won’t let anyone else lay a finger on you until you’re back in Natalie’s hands. Do we have a deal?” I nodded sheepishly. Feeling utterly spent, but still completely terrified, I laid back down, flat on my back, and began counting backwards from one hundred to calm myself. 

 “Okay, Alexander, I’m turning on the anesthesia now. All you have to do is take a deep breath, in through your mouth and out, through your nose… Good, perfect. That’s perfect. You’re going to be okay, Alexander. Natalie’s waiting for you. It’s time to sleep, now… jussstttt relaaaaaxxxxxxx…” My eyelids felt extraordinarily heavy as her voice melted and faded. Then, within another cycle of breath, I was fast asleep. 

 ********************

 I’d long since chewed my cuticles to bits until I drew blood. I’d paced every square inch of this hellish little room that was starting to feel more like a cage than a waiting area. I’d driven the secretary crazy asking time and time again if they’d be done soon. Her flat, insincere, “Any moment, I’m sure” made my blood boil. I was about to tear my hair out at the roots when the squeal of the door made me leap to my feet and fly across the linoleum tiles.The woman who entered the room was a stranger to me. She came in pushing the door with her shoulder, her back to me, initially. As she turned around, I saw why she’d come in that way. Her hands were otherwise full with a tiny little body.

 He was cradled very gently in her cupped hands, completely unconscious. He lay there, peacefully, his knee wrapped thickly in a massive bandage of white gauze. I reached out for him immediately, “Let me! I have to hold him. Is he okay?” Wordlessly, she very carefully slid his limp little form from her hands to mine. I cupped both palms, trembling just to feel his skin on mine again. The second his tiny weight landed in my grasp, my eyes welled with tears. 

 He lay there, completely disheveled, his lips parted, his hair sticking up all over the place, his skin looked pallid and shiny from sweat. I cradled his little head on the pad of my pinky finger. The same one he’d squeezed before being carted off. The rest of him nestled safely in the hammock of my two palms pressed together, his heels resting just over the edges of my hands, balancing atop my wrists. I was so grateful just to hold him again, I leaned in and whispered, “Alexander. You’re okay. You’re coming home… I was so worried about you…” I rubbed his hair from his eyes, caressed his little cheek, traced his chin, rubbed his pecs and relished in the pounding of his tiny heart, all with the tip of my thumb. 

 I had forgotten for a moment that he and I were not the only ones in the room. I glanced up to notice the new vet tech standing politely, staring at the little man in my hands with an expression that mirrored my own. I cleared my throat, hurling a barrage of questions at her, “So? How is he? How’d he do? Is he going to heal successfully?”  

She seemed to hesitate at these questions. My pulse quickened as I watched her cast her eyes down, before meeting my gaze. I furrowed my brow, she cleared her throat, “… He, he was… incredibly brave. The good news is he should be free of infection and after a round of antibiotics, he will be back to normal. Um… However, the surgery involved… well, a little more trauma than expected…” 

“W-what? What does that mean?” 

She was hushed to silence as Doctor Greene chose this incredibly inopportune time to make his appearance. The second he walked in the door the smell of cigarettes wafted in with him. Did the tech’s shoulders seem to slump a bit when he entered the room? “I see you’ve already gotten acquainted with Lindsey…” he then whipped around to her and mumbled under his breath, “I thought you were going to tell me when you were ready to return him…” She didn’t say a word as he turned to me, his voice back to being chipper and light, “…And your little friend is back where he belongs. Wonderful. Now, as you can see, everything went just fine. He’s still under the influence of anesthesia at the moment, and it will likely take him several hours before he’s fully alert and awake again. Now I will tell you, when he does come to, it is highly possible that he will be disoriented and confused. He may not know himself or you at first. He may ramble on about half truths and hallucinations from his experience with us. This often happens. Their little brains get flooded and they become highly overwhelmed. They often exaggerate the details. Don’t worry if he acts a little skittish, or upset by the ordeal, they almost all do. We do everything we can to keep them calm, but it can still be frightening simply because they don’t understand. Just lay him in some dark, isolated place and he’ll quiet down soon enough.” I wasn’t going to put him in solitary confinement after one of the most traumatizing experiences of his life! He’d be right by my side until he made a full recovery. That was non-negotiable. 

I stared at his sleeping form in my hands. Alexander, his head was no bigger than the tip of my pointer finger. His hair stuck to his forehead in a sticky, sweaty mess, his little chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm. I carefully slid him into one cupped palm, gently taking up his tiny left hand on the tip of my, now free, finger. Even in his unconscious state, his body fully limp, the weight of his hand, his arm, felt like nothing. 

Alexander, were they good to you? Are you going to be okay? What did she mean there was more trauma? I wish you’d open your little eyes and talk to me. I want to hear it from you, no one else. He, of course, stayed motionless. The doctor continued on, “I’ve filed a prescription for a round of antibiotics, as well as pain medication, those will stave off infection and help with recovery. Now, the bandages will have to be changed at regular intervals, and please don’t forget to wrap the sutures in plastic wrap before dipping him in water, otherwise you’ll be right back where you started. Keep the area as dry as possible and, of course, keep him from bearing any weight on it for the first four weeks. Speaking of…”

He began to fish in his pocket. I continued to stare at the sleeping little life taking refuge in my hands, my heart skipping a beat when his tiny hand flexed and squeezed my finger. I looked up long enough to see the vet reveal, in the flat of his palm, something sealed in a little plastic bag printed with labels that obscured what was inside, “Now, he, almost guaranteed, won’t need that walking aide long term, but just in case, or at least for those first few weeks, after the initial month off, he’ll have it. You can give it to some dollhouse enthusiast afterwards.” I reached for the tiny aluminum cane, approximately three inches long, and pocketed it, before caressing his bright, golden hair, “And, if you think he’ll try to mess with his bandages too much, these are highly effective at dissuading them…” He’d fished around in a drawer before offering something else in his outstretched hand. This time, it was a tiny little surgical cone. I set my jaw. Absolutely fucking not. He’d kill me if I put that on him. My disapproving sneer was enough to express my opinion on the matter, “Alright, then. Just a suggestion…. I have one more form that I’ll need from you for our exit paperwork and otherwise, Trisha should settle payment at the front desk.”

“You know he’s gonna tell me if you did something….” I tore my eyes away long enough to burn holes into his bespectacled ones. 

He raised his brows, smirking a bit in surprise, “Of course, miss. But, like I said, they come up with all kinds of fanciful tales when under the influence of medication. He’ll likely be quite disoriented and confused.” 

“You have no clue who you’re messing with, do you? If you so much as bent a hair out of place, I promise you, you’re going to regret it. He won’t hesitate to come after you.” 

A stifled chuckle and the clearing of a throat on his part told me what he thought about that. The tech just stared at the floor, clearly unamused. 

I raised a brow, challenging him, “Just wait and see what happens….” It was enough to make the veterinarian and his tech exchange a worried glance. Satisfied, I left that godforsaken room and checked out. It was a blur of curt interactions. I tried not to balk when the total was read aloud. I just wanted to get him home and away from this place. 

The drive home was drizzly, cold. It’d gone from morning to dusk since I’d first arrived, to now, as the hospital finally faded from my rearview mirror. As I drove, I cradled him with one hand against my pounding heart, caressing his head and chest with a thumb. 

 Returning home, finally, after picking up his medications, I collapsed on the bed, unwilling to let him out of my sight for more than the length of a single heartbeat. “You’re gonna be okay, Alexander. You’ll heal up, good as new. I’m right here with you, I’m not going anywhere, never again.” I stroked his head, his cheek, his chest. When I laid the length of my finger down on top of his body, he, as if from instinct, wrapped his tiny arms around it, just like he had the day I’d watched him sleep in my nightstand drawer. 

 I couldn’t help myself, my throat got tight again. Poor Alexander. He was such a fighter, a survivor, but at the end of the day he just needed a little bit of tenderness and love, like everyone else. I burst into tears, “You’re so sweet under all of it. You’re such a sweetheart. So small…. Look at you, look at how little you are. I can feel your tiny heart pounding away. What’re you dreaming about? Do you know you’re safe? Do you know you’re with me?”

 His brow twitched and I held my breath, hoping to watch him stir awake. But no, his little arms went limp again, one sliding off of my finger and landing, limply, by his side. I pinched his other wrist between the pads of my fingers and kissed the inside of his palm with careful lips, “You’re so brave. You’re so incredibly brave. Do you know that? I’m in awe of you. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be…And…I’m so sorry.” My chest hurt as my throat clamped down, the tears cascading down the planes of my face, “I’m sorry if you’re hurting. I never meant to hurt you. You have to know that. I wanted to help. I just wanted to help you get better. Please, please wake up. Alexander? C’mon, open your eyes. Please tell me you’re okay. Tell me that bad feeling I had was just a feeling and nothing more. Did I fuck up? Were you scared? Alone? Did you need me to come rescue you? If they hurt you, I’ll help you kill them and hide the bodies. I swear. I’ll help you make them pay. You deserve so much better than this, Little Nightmare. Let me help make it better. In whatever way I can. Please. Just wake up….” 

 I took his tiny hand and splayed it out on the tip of my finger. It was his left hand, his writing hand. Tiny little veins protruded from the back of it and along his forearm. His fingernails were hard to even see, slightly purple against the rest of his skin. The fingers were lithe, slender. He had ‘perfect piano playing hands’ as my mother had always called them. I adored this little hand. I rubbed the back of it, with an ever so delicate brush of my right thumb. You’re going to do great things with these hands. I know you will. 

 Almost as if on cue, he started to stir and twitch. My heart leapt to my throat, as I watched wide-eyed and breathless. I laid his little hand back down over his chest. I wasn’t sure if he’d be blitzed out from the drugs and think I was trying to grab him. His brow furrowed deeply as he tossed his head to the side. His whole body shivered and his little hands twitched and then relaxed. My heart was thundering away. Then, in a sudden rush, he opened his brilliant little eyes with a gasp, and stared up, directly at me. Good morning, Little Nightmare. 

 “Hello. How are you feeling? Does anything hurt? Are you okay?” I spoke just above a whisper, trying to be as soft and comforting as I could. His brow furrowed as he listened to the timbres of my voice. He looked confused, his eyelids seeming far too heavy for him to keep open. He didn’t say a word, just blinked lazily, his little mouth slightly open, “Alexander? Talk to me. How do you feel?” 

 His eyes batted in rapid succession, he sucked in air, as if shocked, “You know my name???” Did he not even recognize me? Was he still disoriented like the doctor had mentioned?

 “Alexander? Of course I know your name…. Do you know mine? Do you know who—“ 

 He scoffed, blowing air through his lips, interrupting me. He did this far too loudly and for far too long, even after I’d gone silent. As he laid back in my hand, every muscle relaxed, his cheeks flushed, his jaw slack and his speech lazy as though speaking through a mouthful of cotton, that little know-it-all brain of his still managed to shine through, “Of course I know who you are! Easy…” he paused for a full five seconds, searching for the next word, “…peasy…” Oh my fucking god, this tiny man is still high off his fucking ass!

 He blinked, once, twice, three times, as he lifted himself up on an elbow. But he was barely able to do that before he came crashing back down with a little grunt, his head lolling a bit. I tried to stifle my laughter, reminding him to be careful. “No, nnno! D-don’t, don’t you laugh at me!” 

“I’m not! I’m not laughing at you, Alexander, I promise!” I protested, literally fighting to keep my composure as I spoke. 

His brow furrowed as he huffed, all the while pointing his little finger up at me, jabbing the air like a professional swordsman, “You are! You think I don’t know! B-but I’m nnot stupid! I know! I know exactly who you are! Ex-ac-tly!” He punctuated each syllable while his head lolled about and he blinked sleepily, “So don’t… don’t act like I don’t know! I do! I’d recognize you anywhere!!” Okay, little man, we get it. You’re right, I’m wrong, what’s new? Even high you’re always ready to pick a fight with me. 

 I’d gone from weeping over his limp little body, to biting back tears of laughter. He was entirely in his own little world right now. I couldn’t believe I was watching the same super serious, uptight, angry little bastard I’d come to know and love now rambling nonsense in his post-surgery daze. I tipped my chin, having way too much fun, “Oh yeah? Who am I, then, smarty pants? What’s my name??”  

“You…. You are unmistakably–  Mmmm, the air tastes funny…”  

“Alexander!” 

“Hmm??” His eyes were halfway to closing as he mumbled. Poor thing. He’d been through so much. I should let it go. 

“Never mind, forget it… you should rest—“ 

Then, with a sudden burst of energy that made me jump, he stared me straight in the eye and pointed up at me, “Arwen Undómiel!! Th-that’s… that’s your name…” He was grinning from ear to ear, absolutely delighted with himself for cracking the case. 

“I’m sorry… what?!” He thought I was a Tolkien elf. And he’d said it in perfect elvish, no less. The smartest man I’d ever met genuinely believed I was a fictional elf. Oh god, I hope he remembers this, so I can tease him about it later. I couldn’t help myself: I burst into laughter.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

A Voice Through the Nothingness Part 11

Series Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings apply. Do not keep reading if you feel the subject matter of this work may upset you.

This chapter is a bit late, life has been all over the place. Please remember the importance of feedback, it really helps me.

Contains: This is still a slow burn, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, graphic descriptions of past domestic violence, protective Billy.

4.4 K words

Comment if you want to be tagged or follow #a voice through the nothingness.

“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”- Leigh Bardugo

Hazel rubbed her face as she filled in the incident report, she focused on the details down to every last fact, partly to stop herself from laughing and partly to hold back the growing anxiety that her Ex's parole date was exactly a week away.

Billy's call came just as she signed the document and it took her everything not to spill right there and then, "So, I don't know if you know this, but Mevin the security guard is all over the news, I'm pretty sure your hand in the background."

Hazel bit the inside of her cheek and willed the giggles to stay away, "Yes, there was an incident at one of those foul child beauty pageants. An issue arose over the scoring, some parents got into a fight. A mother was stabbed with a pair of scissors and the worst a kid got was a sprained wrist."

Billy picked up on Hazel's tone, "Oh come on, you can tell me more. The news has video." Billy was trying to distract her, if the worried raw lower lip he caught sight of yesterday was anything to go by, she wasn't doing well.

Hazel barely held back her laughter, "Oh my God, Melvin's going to become a meme because of me. The kid with the sprained wrist was wearing four thousand dollars worth of pageant gear that had to be cut off. The poor kid's crazy mother came at me with a fucking bone saw when I told her. I just got done filing the report."

Billy paused his task at her words, "She came at you with a bone saw over some clothes?"

That was it, Hazel was gone and she could barely speak between cackles, "Yes, I don't even….." Billy loved that sound, he would have loved it more if it wasn't tinged with something less pleasant, "I don't even know how she got it." She sighed, "Can you pick me up today, I don't feel like taking the subway, I'll cover your gas."

Billy could hear something coming through more the more she spoke, "Hell yeah, in fact, can I ask a favour in return?"

"Of course you can." Hazel knew Billy would never ask her to do anything she didn't want to do.

"We've expanded into looking after more families and I need help going through applicants who will be good with kids, I'd really value your input." Billy didn't just value it, he desperately wanted it.

"Sure, if you want, you can bring me to Anvil, I'm happy to do it now." Hazel didn't want to admit to herself that it was because she felt safe there.

Billy smiled, "That would be great, I owe you so much."

Hazel giggled, "It's nothing, the fact that you value my opinion enough to make hiring decisions on it is enough."

At that moment, it hit Billy how much he did value her opinion, "I'll be there when you finish. Thank you for doing this, you have no idea how much help it is."

Hazel smiled, "Hey, I'm happy to help. I'll see you soon."

Now that Billy had time to wait until he saw he her, he found himself missing her, "See you soon Hazel."

****

Billy grinned as Hazel came into view, the site of her with two coffees in her hands in her yellow scrubs filling his chest with joy, "Hi Billy."

"Hello Hazel." He walked around to the passenger side and opened her door before she handed him a coffee and slid inside, "Thanks."

Hazel shook her head, "No worries. I feel bad getting in your nice car in my work clothes."

Billy gave her a look, "This car has seen a lot worse." He pointed to the little animals on her scrubs, "Are those Armadillos?

Hazel shook her head, "No, they're Pangolins."

Billy noticed how tired she looked, "Where do you find Pangolin scrubs?"

Hazel smiled, "I made these scrubs. I found Pangolin fabric at a kid's online fabric store. How did you get here in time? The traffic is terrible."

Billy smiled, "I left early. I hope you don't mind that we'll be sitting in the car for a while."

Hazel shook her head, "No way. I get to spend time talking to you and I get to people watch. What's not to love?"

He could see the tension melting from her. Billy knew he had a knack for making people feel safe but seeing it in action was something different, "Well, when you put it like that then we better get going."

Hazel smiled, "Great, I never rode in such a fancy car." Billy pressed a button and her eyes went wide, "There and seat warmers? Oh boy."

Billy chuckled, "Yeah there are. Now tell me more about your day."

Hazel shrugged, "The ER was pretty busy with the pageant mothers. There were a lot more people involved than we first thought so I stayed there my whole shift. But it was pretty uneventful other than that."

Billy chuckled, "Isn't it bad luck to say shit like that?"

Hazel shook the growing tiredness from her bones, "No, only when you're in the ER. What are you looking for in a bodyguard, is that the right term?" Billy nodded, "What are you looking for in a bodyguard who's working with kids?"

Billy smiled, "That's what I want you to tell me."

Hazel nodded, "Ok, well what are you looking for in a bodyguard full stop? There are traits of people who work with kids who would make shit bodyguards and vise versa so maybe I can find a happy middle."

For someone who hated managing people, she was good at understanding what it took, "Past the fundamental skills like being able to do the job, I'm looking for someone with a lot of knowledge of how to get out of bad situations, someone who cares but not so much that they'll get involved and someone who thinks in their feet."

"Ok, well a lot of that is what you need with kids too so that's not a problem. I'd say you should also look for someone who likes kids but not necessarily someone who has them. While it's not a bad thing, I've seen doctors and nurses lose focus if they let their mind drift to their own little ones." Hazel felt the exhaustion hit her as she spoke.

Billy nodded, "Yeah, I've noticed that with Frank. I was thinking a sixty forty split women and men?"

Hazel rested her head back and sunk into the plush of the seat, "Mmm, I think that's a good idea but it all depends on the people you pick." It was getting so hard for her to keep her eyes open.

"That's why I'm bringing you along, I figure you know what you're talking about. I also thought that you and Curt could develop a pediatric training program. You don't even have to come in, I just want your input on some ideas. I mean, we do have pediatric medics but I've never seen them in action and I know how good you are at your job." Billy cast a glance at Hazel, smiling when he found her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling softly.

In the silence, she roused, "Sure, I'd be happy to help, whatever's good for the kiddos is good for me."

Billy smiled, "You are amazing." He thought about another thing to talk about, something that would lull her back to sleep, "We've bought two properties too, they're both a total shit heep now but with some work, they'll will be really nice. One an apartment block with seven apartments and a security centre on the ground floor. It used to be an office building but it was rezoned and sold to us for nothing. We'll turn half into overnight rooms for our staff and others into safehouses."

Hazel let out an mhhh and Billy kept going, "The other is this house that's basically a shell now, the backyard is huge and it's a total mess. It will take us forever to fix, but we will use it as a holiday house for our high end clients when they stay for business."

Billy came to the main road and had a choice to make, take the short way and get to Anvil in half an hour or the long way and get there in double that. It was an easy choice for him, an hour in a car talking about his plans while Hazel slept was a good way to beat the boredom of traffic.

****

Billy didn't know why he hadn't woken Hazel up yet but he reasoned it was because she looked so peaceful. He reached across the centre console and stroked Hazel's cheek, repeating her name softly until her eyes fluttered open. She sat up and rubbed her face before looking around, horror growing on her expression, "Shit, did I fall asleep? I'm so sorry."

Billy shook his head, "It's alright, you needed it."

Hazel swallowed, "I haven't been sleeping much since the news."

Billy lifted his hand again and brushed a curl behind her ear, Hazel's eyes closing at the gentle touch, "I don't blame you. Are you feeling a bit better now."

Hazel sighed and stretched, "Much. That was the best sleep I've had since Friday."

Billy understood how she went from a double shift on Friday to cooking all of Saturday with much of a break, adrenalin was an amazing thing. "Yeah, you told me on Saturday that you had a bad day at work but that was your day off so I'm guessing you didn't sleep when you got home after your shift?"

Hazel shook her head, "Not a wink."

Billy's mind went through how he could kill the man before the hearing but he knew Hazel wouldn't want that, "Next time you can't sleep I want you to call me and we'll talk until you can." Hazel went to protest and he held up a hand, "Hey, it's the least I can do."

Hazel smiled softly and sniffed back her emotions, "Thank you."

Billy took a breath and pushed open his door, "We better head in now, before my staff think we're talking about something scandalous and start gossiping."

Hazel giggled, "Good idea."

Billy didn't miss the way Hazel glanced at him when he opened her door for her, nor how she stuck so close by him as they headed to his office. Hazel smiled when she saw the marking on the wall, "The fish tank, already?"

Billy smiled, "Yeah, I wasn't going to wait. Your fish guy already came through."

They sat down at Billy's desk and he placed the files in front of them before pointing to the separate piles, "Women and here and men are here, is there anything you want to know before we start?"

Hazel nodded, "Did you create a questionnaire for this job or is this just their files?"

"It's just their files but if you think a questionnaire could help I'll get the shortlisted people to fill it out." A tiny part of Billy wished Hazel had said yes to working for him but he knew she wouldn't find it fulfilling, so he have to settle for having her help him in her free time.

"Ok, how many people are you looking for?" Hazel was already looking over the folders.

"Twenty. We're expanding fast so we'd rather have the numbers up front then be struggling for people." Hazel was deep in thought as she poured over the information and Billy was more focused on her than on the work he had to do.

"I like him, Ryan Batts. I think he'd be a good fit." She placed his file on a pile and moved on to the next one.

"Alright." Billy paused, debating whether he should push it, "Can you help me with the interviews? I promise it won't take away from work or study."

Hazel sighed, "Ok, and before you ask, I've already have to questionnaire we used for the security we hire on the ward. We can work on some extra questions that focus on this job and go from there."

Billy grinned, "I owe you. Whatever you want, name it and it's yours."

Hazel shook her head, "Your company is payment enough." She threw the file in her hand into another pile, "Not him, he'd be shit."

Billy chuckled, "You're cheap to keep."

Hazel gave him a friendly shove, "If you must pay me, you can do it cool in fabric and endless praise."

Billy raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? I can heap on the praise if you like."

Hazel picked up on his tone because she gave it right back, "Hell yeah, who doesn't love he hear what a good job they're doing? I mean, I am an honour student, of course I have a praise kink."

Billy managed to hold himself together for another beat before he broke down in laughter, "I walked right into that, didn't I?"

Hazel nodded, "You ran into it dear."

Billy composed himself and took a breath before passing her a file, "What about her."

Hazel's eye drifted over it, "Yeah, I think she'll be good."

Billy was back to grinning, "We are going to get this way faster than I thought. Good job."

Hazel giggled, "If you keep it coming we'll get it done even faster."

****

The sun had long set by the time Billy brought Hazel home, and like always, she stopped by to chat to the man in the corner before making sure the whatever it was that she placed in her door every day was still there. 

Billy watched as Hazel looked around the apartment before relaxing, "Can I ask you what you're looking for when you check your door?" Hazel looked over him as if she was trying to decide if she should give away her secret, "I'm not going to tell a soul, don't worry." 

She took a deep breath, "A piece of white string. The cop that was first on the scene really helped me. When I told him I was worried about being stalked, he told me to put things like that in place, the only other person who knows is Lizzy." She paused, "I'm sorry." 

Billy closed the distance and placed his hand on her cheek, "Why are you sorry?" 

Hazel broke his gaze, "Because you've been through war and I'm a ball of nerves for no reason." 

Billy took her face in his hands and looked into her eyes, their rims red and damp, "You have nothing to be sorry for, someone you loved tried to kill you, Hazel, you were in a fight for your life. You don't need to apologise for anything, not for being scared or not trusting anyone, and certainly not for protecting yourself." 

There was a beat and then the dam broke and Hazel fell into his chest while hers racked with sobs. Billy wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair as she cried and tried to flog back the feelings growing in his chest. 

Billy's hand squeezed Hazel's shoulder and he felt the heaving of her ribs slow, "You're ok, everything is going to be ok." She took in a shuddering breath, and then another and another and finally calmed down but she made no move to extricate her from his embrace. 

"Thank you." Hazel's voice was muffled in Billy's chest and Billy reached up and stroked her hair as he reigned in his anger. Hazel pulled away and smiled at him, "You wanna stay for some coffee?" 

Billy nodded, "Sure. You know, when Anvil expanded, we started to take in clients who have been through similar things to you and Curt started a group for them, they meet at the same place that we do. Curt wouldn't mind it if you stopped by." 

Hazel held up a hand, "No, what happened to me is nothing compare to what happens to some people, I would be taking up a seat." Despite the shake in her voice, her hands were steady as she made the coffee. 

"Do you want to talk to me about what happened? I know that part of this is coming from you not knowing if you did everything you could and it's my job to know those things. We'll treat it like an after action report, there won't be any judgement and I won't criticise you if you made a mistake. That way, you know for sure that there's nothing you could have done." Billy knew Hazel would have done everything right. 

Hazel sighed and handed Billy a cup, "You don't need to be my shoulder to cry on Billy." 

Billy shook his head, "I'm your friend, that's what I'm here for." 

Hazel rubbed her face and gestured to the couch and her and Billy sat down together, "I promised myself the first time a man yelled at me I would leave and like so many women before me, it happened and I didn't. His name was, is, Jacob Cambell, he worked at the local gym and I met him at a bar. He was a muscle head and didn't have any intellectual pursuits but he was sweet, at least I thought he was." 

She took a deep breath, "We dated for two years and I missed a lot of the signs, the tiny ones that you don't know until it's way too late. I thought he never understood my interests because I didn't communicate them well enough, I now know that he didn't listen because he didn't care. I thought he didn't understand why my job was so hard for me because he had never had any exposure to it, I know now it's because my feelings didn't matter." 

Billy took Hazel's hand in his, "Four months before he assaulted me, I suspected he was taking steroids but I didn't bring it up because he had always been insecure about his size even though he was huge," she paused for a moment, wondering if she should keep going, "He had certain inabilities that only got worse with the steroid use and it made him very very angry."

Billy was no stranger to men who turned to drugs when they felt weak, it always ended the same, "The day before, he came back from work I wasn't in the mood to talk because I had lost a kid and he yelled, told me to shut up and called me selfish and I should have told him to fuck off there and then but he apologised and started crying and I forgave him." 

Billy could see Hazel steeling herself, "The next day, the same time, he came in spitting mad, red in the face, the whole nines. He asked me if I talked to the cops, I told him I had no idea what he was talking about. He didn't listen and I told him to leave and he didn't. There was name calling and I made like I was going to pour him a drink and got my gun. I pointed it at him and told him to leave again, he lunged at me and I was stupid enough not to shoot him in the head." 

Billy squeezed her hand, "Can I interrupt?" Hazel nodded, "Even if the best shooters in the world don't aim for the head unless they know they can land the shot. I'd argue that hitting a man who's coming at you in the knee is even harder but you made the right call, had you missed, it would have been worse. So the hit landed, you told me the first time that he didn't feel it?"  

Hazel chewed her lip and shook her head, "No. He was too close to shoot him again and he hit me. I hit him back multiple times but he was a lot stronger than me and he managed to get the gun from me. He knocked the wind out of me and I fell down, then he laughed and pulled the magazine out, flicked all the bullets at me and dropped the gun next to me. He hit me again and climbed on top of me and started to strangle me." 

Billy was even more satisfied with the ending he knew was coming, "He didn't count the bullets and I did. The gun was within reach, I grabbed it, put it to his stomach and fired. The rest is history." 

Billy could see Hazel drifting and he pulled her back, "I have seen grown men with the best training in the world crumble in the same situation where you didn't. There is nothing you could have done to stop what happened to you. You got out alive, that's it, there's nothing else that matters." 

Billy could see the relief come over Hazel's face, "Are you sure you're not just saying this to make me feel better?" 

Billy shook his head, "Doing that could get you killed if it happens again. There was nothing you could have done." 

Hazel rolled her shoulders and resolve came over her face, "If he gets out, I'll deal with it. I survived once, I can do it again." 

Billy smiled, "That's just right. Do you need me to stay with you tonight?" 

Hazel shook her head, "No, I'm good."

Billy stood up and the hug that followed felt so natural, "Are we still on for dinner at my place on Saturday?"

Hazel smiled, "Of course, I'm excited to see what you cook."

Billy's chest filled with warmth as she buried herself further into his chest, "You have people in your corner Hazel. Come next week, no matter what happens, you will get through this."

Hazel pulled away and smiled, "Thank you Billy. Get home safe."

****

Hazel sighed and sipped her coffee, leaning against the wall while Lizzy looked her over, "You look great, did that fuckstain get stabbed this morning?"

Hazel shook her head, "I told Billy everything last night. He took me home after I helped him with some Anvil stuff and we went over it. After I was done, he told me there was nothing else I could have done and when I asked him if he was bullshitting me to make me feel better, he told me made it clear he wasn't. It doesn't change the fact that I feel like justice has been stolen but I feel," she thought for a moment, "I feel so much more capable now."

Lizzy grinned, "Yeah, girl. You're a fucking badass, I've been telling you that since I met you. I'm not going to be offended that it took Mr Sexy to get it to sink in, I'm just glad you finally see it."

Hazel mirrored her smile, "I know this isn't the end, and I'm still going to be a wreck but I can handle it."A buzzing in her pocket pulled her attention away, "Speaking of, that's Billy now."

Lizzy waved her hand with a smile, "Go ahead, I need to get back to the ward anyway."

'Hey, is everything alright?" Hazel didn't know what she expected but it certainly wasn't what came.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just got out of a meeting with the designer for those apartments I told you about and turns out it's going to cost us a bit more than we thought I wanted to bring something up before I pull the trigger." Billy had a feeling about what Hazel was going to say but he was going to try anyway.

"You have seven right? I think I fell asleep before I heard the rest." Hazel rubbed her face, that time in the car was the best rest she had gotten since she got the news about her Ex.

"Yeah. I'm not going to insult you by asking you to move into one, but for some reason, you need to leave your apartment in the next few months, I'd be happy to rent one to you for the same price you're paying now as long as you help me fix it up."

Billy knew there was no point in lying, she would see through it anyway, "Look, I'm not being selfless, this is going to cost us a lot and if you say yes, you'll be saving us a lot of money. We'll provide everything you need, plus some men to help you out, I just want you there to do what you did for your place."

Hazel's first response was to say yes but she didn't want to be dependent on anyone, "I'm really flattered that you think I'm that good and thank you for thinking of me but I have to say no. I need to get through this without taking a step back, I'll never feel safe again alone if I move somewhere with security all day and all night."

Billy sighed, "I understand, the offer is still there if you change your mind. I'll see you Tomorrow at my place for dinner."

Hazel took a deep breath, "I can't wait."

****

Billy had taken the night and most of the day to mull it over but he had made up his mind after his call with Hazel. He didn't even bother going into Frank's office, settling for calling him on his Anvil office phone, "I need to see the police report." 

Frank stuttered, "What police report, what are you talking about?" 

Billy bit back his anger, "Hazel's police report, I need to know what she's walking into on Thursday. She told me everything last but I need to see it for myself." 

Frank sighed, "I'll email it to you. Will Hazel be alright with this?" 

Billy somehow knew she would be, "Hazel is the most open person I know and I'll tell her on Thursday. Please Frank." 

Frank huffed, "It's in your inbox. Don't do anything stupid Bill, the woman can handle herself. You'll be able to see that as clear as day when you read it." 

"Thanks." Billy hung up the phone and rushed to open his email before taking a deep breath and clicking open the file. He read the report first and his chest swelled with pride, "offensive and defensive bruises, fingerprint marks around neck, mild powder burns on right hand." 

When Billy reached the photos, he knew he was finally better because, at that moment, the fury gave way to overwhelming clarity. If Hazel asked him, Jacob Cambell was a dead man, and if she didn't, he would bide his time until Cambell gave Billy a chance to do it anyway because men like that always do.  

Part 12

@rainbowgoblinfan