#i Love her so much it's unreal. sickening | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

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Amor

Summary: After a bad day at work, coming home to his family makes Javi realize his day wasn't so bad after all

Word Count: 1.9K

Pairing: Dad!Javi x f!reader (no use of y/n)

Warnings: Tooth rotting, sickening, fluff 😩😭 Allusions to smut, breeding kink, dad!Javi needs his own warning bc oh my GOD (more specifically, girl dad!Javi...) (*Also general spoiler warning if you don't want to read NTL out of order!*)

A/N: Y'ALL. I told you the dad!Javi brain rot was UNREAL. After writing this, I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to stop writing for dad!Javi ever and I'm not even sorry about it 🤷🏼‍♀️ Don't mind me casually screaming from the rooftops about how much I am obsessed him okay BYE 🤪

Can be read as a standalone or as a part of the NTL universe!

Series Masterlist Never Too Late Masterlist

Shitty.

There were a lot of words Javi could have used to describe how his day at work had gone.

At 9:30, after his weekly phone call with border patrol, who provided him with little to no helpful information, the word would have been annoying.

At 11:15, after Agent Miller knowingly jammed the copier and left it for someone else to fix, leaving Javi with no way to make any copies, the word would have been frustrated.

At 3:40, after his department meeting with the other Sheriff’s Offices from the county, none of whom came prepared, as usual, the word would have been angry.

And now, at 6:15, after a spilled afternoon coffee, a giant stack of paperwork that had been thrown on his desk, and a pounding headache, the word to describe his day was nothing short of shitty.

Throwing his briefcase into the passenger’s seat, cranking the AC up and the volume of his car radio to zero, Javi sat in his truck, silently brooding in his moodiness to sulk in the misery that had been his absolutely shitty day.

The rest of his drive home was the same as his pouting in the parking lot of the Laredo County Sheriff’s Department- no music, no windows down, no grin on his face like his usual drives home after work. Javi couldn’t remember a day at work this shitty since the DEA, and that in itself was saying something.

As Javi pulled onto your street, dust swooshed beneath the bouncing of his truck tires along the gravel road, the sun just beginning to fade from its vibrant yellows and oranges to its soft pinks, beaming behind the clouds scattered throughout the September sky. The view was just enough to snap him out of his overbearing funk- the brightly colored sunset painted behind the view of your house and tiny, shadowed figures dancing in the driveway meant that nothing else in the world mattered anymore. Not frustrating colleagues, piles of paperwork, even spilt cups of desperately deserved coffee. The only thing that mattered to him now, were his 4 favorite people in the world, waiting for him to come home. The only thing that mattered was his family.

Lucy was the first to notice Javi’s truck rolling down the driveway, immediately prompting the 4 of you to pause your soccer game that had been happening in the front yard, which, after your two year old had decided she wanted to get involved, had really turned into more of a match of “Chase Harper through the grass as she tries to run away with the soccer ball”.

“Daddy’s home!” Lucy and Elliot squealed, bolting towards Javi’s truck as it finally reached a halt at the end of the driveway, prompting you to scoop up Harper and follow behind, knowing she would be just as thrilled to see her dad, even if her little legs couldn’t keep up with her older sisters' quite yet. The girls bounced in excitement, frantically waving at Javi as they waited for him to exit the car.

From the moment the driver’s side door was open, and both Javi’s feet were on the ground, Lucy and Elliot were wrapped around Javi’s waist, squeezing him with a love and affection that instantly eased every last bit of stress, melting away any remnants of the previous parts of his day.

“Hi Daddy!” The girls giggled in delight as they latched tighter around their dad’s hip, the feeling instantly making him crouch down to their level and drape his arms around them, pulling them in as closely as he could in return.

“Hola, Pollitas.” (Hi, little chickens). The sigh Javi let out was like the weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, hugging his girls just a little tighter and longer than normal, almost as if he couldn’t bear to let them go.

“Daddy, you’re squishing me!” Elliot squealed, wriggling her little body in Javi’s grasp.

“Yeah, Dad, you’re gonna crush us!” Lucy teased, both the girls bursting into laughter as Javi gave them one last squeeze before hosting them up, letting their little legs flail as he shook them in his grasp before setting them back down, pressing a soft kiss on each of their heads.

“Crush my Pollitas? Never. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javi teased back, making the girls roll their eyes.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Harper cooed, outstretching her arms towards Javi as the two of you made it to the driveway, Javi immediately scooping her up from you and hosting her in the air, peppering her with little kisses across her body, making her squeal just as loudly as her sisters.

“Mi mas pequeño amor (My littlest love).” Javi grinned, resting Harper against his hip as his little fan club had finally parted ways enough for you to greet your husband, gently cradling his face in your hands, pressing a soft kiss on his lips, savoring the sweet taste of him that felt like home.

“Hi.” You smiled, pulling back just enough to see the sweet grin spread across his face before leaning back in for a hug, letting the warmth and scent of his body engulf you whole, making the grin on your face just as wide as his. “Long day?” You asked, still pressed against his chest, noting his arrival time back home was later than normal.

“Not anymore.” He beamed, staring down at you with that tender gaze that still made you melt, even after all your years together.

“Daddy, can I show you the picture I made you in art today? Please, please, please?” Lucy pleaded, once again wrapped around Javi’s hip, gently tugging at his shirt for his attention.

“I made one, too!” Elliot interjected, crossing her arms in defiance, a shocked look on her face that her sister dared to leave her out of the art contribution about to be made to their dad.

“Your little artists have been hard at work today.” You grinned. “I’m pretty sure the Peña house is going to soon be a nationally recognized museum for pictures of puppies, Daddy, and gorillas.”

“Gorillas? That’s a new one.” Javi laughed, looking at you with a confused tilt of your head, your only response to shrug your shoulders in just as much confusion and amusement.

“Mrs. Collins read us a book about them in library today! So I showed Elliot and Harper how to draw them!” Lucy beamed, proudly crossing her arms over her chest with a satisfied nod.

“I’m sure they’re amazing, mi amor (my love), gorillas and all.”

“Alright goobers, now that Daddy’s home it’s time for dinner, why don’t you go clean up the rest of your art stuff and we can show Daddy your pictures before we eat.” You smiled, Javi gently setting Harper back on the ground, only to quickly be scooped back up again by Lucy, the 3 girls racing through the front yard and into the house, giggling and screeching in excitement the whole way there, leaving you and Javi watching your daughters dash across the driveway.

Once the girls were out of sight, Javi’s hands slid down your sides, fingers pressing into your hips as he tugged you in closer, making your rest your hands on his broad chest as he kissed you, now making you giggle as he grabbed an unexpected handful of your ass, giving it a playful smack as you swatted at him, rolling your eyes.

“You’re in a surprisingly good mood for having a shitty day at work.” You smirked, biting down on your lip as you raised a suspicious eyebrow at him.

“How’d you know I had a bad day at work?” Javi asked, cocking his head in confusion, hand still gripped tightly around the small of your back.

“Because I know you like the back of my hand, Javier Jesús Peña. I could just tell. Plus, you always give those girls an extra big hug after a long day, since I know how much you miss them, even though you literally saw them this morning.” You snickered, lovingly nudging Javi before pressing another kiss onto his lips.

“What? Like it’s a crime to miss my family while I’m stuck in terrible fucking meetings and doing shitty ass paper work all day? To wanna spend all my time with my beautiful daughters and their even more beautiful momma? Fine, guilty as charged, I guess.” Javi winked, gently tracing his thumb on the soft skin of your stomach, barley peeking out between your shirt and shorts.

“Well I guess the five of us will all just head off to Peña prison together since we’re all guilty of missing you just as much.”

“God, you’re such a dork.” He sighed, pulling you in to plant a kiss on your forehead. “I love you so much, Osita.”

“I love you too, Jav.” The two of you stood there for a moment longer, the comfort of each other’s embrace, forever your favorite feeling. “Okay, we should probably get back in there before the munchkins get up to no good, huh? In addition to trying to teach Elliot and Harper how to draw gorillas, Lucy was also trying to teach them how to body check someone when they played hockey in the driveway.”

“They are their mother’s daughters, I wouldn’t expect anything less. Plus, I apparently have some pictures of gorillas to go see.” Javi chuckled, reaching back to open the passenger side door of his truck to pull out his bag as the two of you headed back towards the house.

“Well, if you needed something to make you feel better, looking at Elliot’s attempt at drawing you, her, Lucy and Harper riding on a purple gorilla while I chase you riding a rainbow gorilla will probably do the trick.” The two of you laughed, walking hand in hand to the front door, pausing one last time on your porch before entering back into the giggles and grins filling your home. “And if that doesn’t work, I bet after we put the girls to bed, I can think of something else that might help you feel better, too.” You smirked, eyeing Javi up and down with a mischievous grin spread across your face.

“Yeah? You gonna let me give me baby number 4, huh Momma?” Javi’s face lit up, biting down on his lip, his eyes wide and smirk even bigger than yours.

“Bold of you to assume the rainbow gorilla isn’t enough. Guess we do have an extra room to fill, don’t we?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful nudge before heading through the door, joining the girls in the kitchen, eagerly waiting with drawings in hand to show their dad. As Javi trailed behind you, greeted by the image of his wife and daughters gleefully gathered around the kitchen counter, waving their colorful papers at him, he couldn’t help but feel his heart burst at the seams, flooded with sense of love and comfort that he was convinced nothing else on this earth would ever be able to top.

Even on the shittiest of days, Javi knew that nothing could really ever be that bad, knowing he would get to spend the rest of his life coming home to the 4 people in the world that made it all worth it. Knowing he would spend his forever surrounded by the love of his family.

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @dappydelta @blackfemalenerd

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morallygrayboys · 8 days ago

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The ones we lost

Wally Cark x fem!reader

summary: Wally Clark was her world—her first love, her best friend, the one person who made everything feel right. But now he’s gone, ripped away in an instant, leaving behind nothing but echoes of laughter in empty hallways and a heart that feels permanently shattered. Every day is a struggle as she walks through Split River High, surrounded by the ghosts of memories that refuse to fade.

warnings: death, grief, loss of a loved one

Author's Note: It's possible that this could turn into a series, but for now, this is just a singular fanfic. If there are any recommendations for future fics or a continuance of this one, my requests are always open ♡

Wally’s POV

Star-crossed lovers Masterlist

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Announcer on PA: "He's got the ball. Wally Clark, down the field. He's at the 40, he's at the 30."

The stadium was electric, the crowd roaring as the final moments of the homecoming game played out under the bright Friday night lights. I sat in the stands, bundled in Wally’s varsity jacket, my heart pounding with excitement and nerves. This was his night—his chance to shine. I could already picture him grinning ear to ear afterward, sweeping me up in a post-game hug, the way he always did.

Then it happened.

Announcer: "Clark takes a big hit. He is down."

The hit came out of nowhere. One second, Wally was sprinting down the field, and the next, a player blindsided him with a brutal tackle. I watched, breathless, as his body lifted off the ground, flipping unnaturally in the air. The sickening crack echoed through the stadium as he landed hard on the turf, his head snapping at an awful angle. The crowd fell eerily silent.

My stomach dropped. Announcer: "This doesn't look good for Wally Clark."

“Get up, Wally,” I whispered, gripping the edge of my seat, willing him to move. To even twitch. But he didn’t. The players around him hesitated before frantically waving for help. Coaches and medics rushed the field, but he just lay there, still, too still. A cold dread settled over me, crawling up my spine.

This wasn’t like the other times he’d been hit. This was different.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard a voice yelling his name. It took me a second to realize it was mine...

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The days after felt like a blur. A never-ending, suffocating blur. The hospital waiting room, the murmured apologies from doctors, the way his mother collapsed into sobs when they told us he was gone.

It felt unreal, like some kind of cruel joke.

Because how could Wally be gone? He was just here. Just laughing with me, just kissing me goodbye before the game, just promising me we'd go to the lake this weekend.

But he wasn’t here anymore. He never would be again.

I don’t remember much about the funeral. Just the weight in my chest, the way the world felt too bright for a day so dark.

People kept talking about him like he was a memory, but I couldn't accept that.

He wasn’t just a memory. He was still mine. My Wally. I stopped going to football games. Couldn’t even look at the field. Every time I walked past it, I swore I could still hear the echo of that hit, the way the crowd gasped, the way my heart broke in real time.

I needed somewhere to go, somewhere that felt like him.

That’s how I met Mr. Daniels, the janitor. He saw me wandering the halls after school one day, lingering in places I shouldn’t be. I expected him to scold me, to tell me to go home, but instead, he just asked, "Looking for somewhere quiet?" I nodded, and after a moment, he motioned for me to follow. He led me to an old storage room near the back of the school, long forgotten and covered in dust. "Nobody uses this place anymore," he said, tossing me a key. "Clean it up if you want. Just don’t tell anyone."

So I did. I spent hours there, sweeping the dust away, hanging up old pictures of Wally from my locker, draping his jacket over the back of a rickety chair.

It wasn’t much, but it was his. And being there, surrounded by the echoes of our time together, made me feel like I wasn’t completely alone.

One day, while sitting in that room, I let myself remember. Really remember. The way Wally smiled when he was nervous. The way his laugh sounded when he was truly happy. And, finally, the way he looked just before it all went wrong.

The scar of that night never left me. I replayed it over and over, but deep down, I knew what happened.

One night, sitting there alone, I whispered to the empty space, "I miss you, Wally." And though the room was silent, though I would never see his face again, I swore I could feel something—just the faintest hint of warmth, like he was still with me in some way. I still dream about him.

Sometimes, I wake up thinking I hear his voice, feel his arms around me. But when I open my eyes, the room is empty. Still, I know the truth.

He’s not lost. Not really. As long as I remember him, as long as I keep this small piece of him close, he’ll always be here. And maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll see him again.

#wally clark #school spirits #milo manheim #Spotify

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bloodmoon24 · 3 months ago

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Hello. Hope I am not a bother to you by ANY means whatsoever, but I just came here to vent about some vivzie stuff that is just so bothersome to me that I need to let it out. Just a heads-up for that the main trigger warning in this topic is about misogyny and sexual abuse/assault/rape.

I've been a Vivziepop fan as long as I can remember--I loved her webcomic Zoophobia along with her other works that I've always been familiar with. She was my favorite artist and she has always been an inspiration for me.

However, when it came to being one of her many beloved fans, you can't IMAGINE on what I had to witness in terms of the sheer amount of hatred that has been spat at Vivienne. Especially when it came down to her releasing Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel--and the amount of things "critics"/antis say about her is just downright insane and unreal.

During these past few weeks, after someone had leaked s2 of HH, all of the antis and critics watched it and began to ridicule Vivzie, saying that they lost hope and it has lost redeeming qualities of the show; including being so straight up hating her to the point that it feels like I was reading a blog of a person who was sexist to women publically. It honestly blows my mind completely that this is how people treat creators and their shows SO disrespectfully that it is just straight up hate. Not to mention the takes these antis have about Vivzie that is SUPER stupid.

Mind you, Vivziepop is a bisexual Latin-American woman--while I, myself, am a nonbinary (AFAB) mixed PoC fan. And the way antis are like "Hellaverse is racist/sexist/lgbtq-phobic!!" makes me SO made cuz they are erasing the fact that it was MADE by a woman who is a part of the queer community who is WoC. So saying that Hellaverse is an oppressive/prejudice show is WAAAAAY out of proportion.

Also, I still remember how after "Masquerade" was shown along with Stolas being revealed he is a victim of spousal/domestic abuse, a lot of people (and by people I mean antis/critics) were all hating on Angel Dust and Stolas and saying that Vivzie fetishicizes rape/abuse. But for Angel Dust, it was because he's "not an actual victim of SA" because he's a sex worker and because he's hypersexual along with other things; while people defend Stella (the abuser) and say Stolas deserves his abuse because he cheated on Stella. And I cannot tell you how much I had to force myself as to NOT throw up by this statement.

I am a victim of SA because of an ex-girlfriend and also my cousin's boyfriend forced himself on me; my dad divorced my ""mom"" because she would constantly beat him and verbally scream at him--a related mention, too, that my younger siblings are the results of my "egg donor" forcing herself on my dad (I love my siblings VERY much--and I only think of them as JUST my siblings and not by-products of rape). My best friend, Aaron, was assaulted by an older boy in a psychiatrict hospital. And I know other friends of mine who are hypersexual due to various reasons--with one of them being from sexual trauma.

It sickens me a lot that ppl can SAY stuff like that--when, a while back, Vivziepop LITERALLY stated she was a victim of abuse in a tweet of hers. And after the fourth episode of HH, Sam Haft (the guy who created our favorite music) also revealed, too, he is a victim. Many people, victims of assualt/rape, cope with their trauma in many ways--but it boggles me how others of SA will hate on other SA victims because of the way they cope differently than others. We all have different stories and different ways to comfort ourselves.

On a related topic, too, but it also just frustrates me that when Vivzie takes on the topic of abuse, its apparently "romanticizing" and "fetishicizing" when its LITERALLY not and she took this topic seriously. Also, as a reminder, but Family Guy did the same topic on this, too, but it was half-assed and victim-blamed. In the episode "Screams of Silence: The Story of Brenda Q.", it was about Quagmire finding out his sister was being abused by her boyfriend--however, when the main cast came to confront about how Jeff (the abusive boyfriend) was beating her, they said that it was HER fault she was getting abused. But did this episode receive backlash? Only little. But this honestly JUST says a lot about how treat creators--female and male. If Vivziepop was a dude, it would've been different.

Not to mention, too, that when I was seeing a bunch of hate to Helluva Boss, they were all blaming Vivziepop. Just Vivziepop, Vivziepop, Vivziepop EVERYWHERE. But what about Brandon Rogers, a gay PoC man who LITERALLY wrote Helluva Boss AND created Stolas, does HE receive hate?? Nope, just Vivzie. Its just misogyny--when a man does edgy jokes (and saying language that contains LOTS of cursing/swearing) its cool and funny, but when a woman does it she's being uncool and unfunny.

Whoof. Sorry about giving you a wall of text, I REALLY needed to let this out due to all of the hate I was seeing about Vivziepop after the season 2 leak. And feel free to add your two cents into this.

I’ve been getting a lot of rants in my askbox, don’t worry. And I agree with you 100%, and it’s fucking ridiculous on how society acts like this

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hellaverse #rants #vivziepop #leave Vivziepop alone #she just wanna make shows about angsty gay demons for us to enjoy #it pisses me off

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f--e-u-e-r-t-r-u-n-k-e--n · 1 year ago

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Sick of it all. Sickness. Collection of notes.

Sickness is a language

Body is a representation

Medicine is a political practice

�� Bryan S. Turner, The body and the society

"What I lack is words that correspond to each minute of my state of mind."

— Antonin Artaud, The nerve meter

"Desmesurado enfermo Bárbaro limpio de rutinas y caminos marcados No acepto vuestras sillas de seguridades cómodas Soy el ángel salvaje que cayó una mañana En vuestras plantaciones de preceptos Poeta Anti poeta"

—Vicente Huidobro, Altazor.

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked" —Allen Ginsberg, Howl.

"First, we believe that the world must be changed. We desire the most liberatory possible change of the society and the life in which we find ourselves confined. We know that such change is possible by means of pertinent actions". —Report on the Construction of Situations

"In his 1954 book Mental Illness and Personality Foucault combines the subjective experience of the mentally ill person with a sociocultural historical approach to mental illness and suggests that there exists a reciprocal connection between individual perception and sociocultural development. (…) what I call a historical phenomenology that combines the subjective experience of the mentally ill person with a sociocultural historical approach to mental ill-ness." —Line Joranger, Individual perception and cultural development: Foucault's 1954 approach to mental illness and its history

"The former, a lovely maiden in the broad daylight, rocked its cradle, endowed it with a charm and glory of its own. Presently it fell sick, lost itself in the darkness of the Middle Ages, and was hidden away by the Witch in woods and wilds: there, sustained by her compassionate daring, it was made to live anew. (…) Are we quite sure of what has been so often repeated, that the gods of old had come to an end, themselves wearied and sickened of living; that they were so disheartened as almost to send in their resignation; that Christianity had only to blow upon these empty shades? (...) By a vow my mother made in her sickness my youth and my life are bound for ever." —Jules Michelet, La Sorcière.

"At the point of departure, then, one may place the political project of rooting out illegalities, generalizing the punitive function and delimiting, in order to control it, the power to punish. From this there emerge two lines of obiectification of crime and of the criminal. On the one hand, the criminal designated as the enemy of all, whom it is in the interest of all to track down, falls outside the pact, disqualifies himself as a citizen and emerges, bearing within him as it were, a wild fragment of nature; he appears as a villain, a monster, a madman, perhaps, a sick and, before long, 'abnormal' individual. It is as such that, one day, he will belong to a scientific objectification and to the 'treatment' that is correlative to it." —Michel Focault, Discipline and Punish

Nastasya was overcome with a fit of laughter. She was given to laughter and when anything amused her, she laughed inaudibly, quivering and shaking all over till she felt ill. "And have you made much money by your thinking?" she managed to articulate at last. "One can't go out to give lessons without boots. And I'm sick of it." "Don't quarrel with your bread and butter." "They pay so little for lessons. What's the use of a few coppers?" he answered, reluctantly, as though replying to his own thought. —Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment.

"What I’d felt there was true, no doubt about that. The experience had revealed to me, in a brutal way, the unreality of this world, the realized abstraction which is the Spectacle. The whole metaphysical – and thus total and filled out all the way to the existential sphere– dimension of this concept had appeared clearly to me in this private mode of disclosure, and could appear as it really is, as something really strange, posing a problem the essence of which is absolute foreignness, only insofar as it is lived as an experience, as a phenomenon. Habit makes phenomena be forgotten as phenomena, that is, the supra-sensible – must I add that Hegel’s famous affirmation too took on a kind of dazzling conreteness, the power of a revelation? And yet, habit is precisely the characteristic means of commodity metaphysics, its manifestation, which never manifests anything but the forgetting of its character as a manifestation… That’s how the bulging intuition of Absence also reveals that it’s already transcended as such, since it presents itself as a manifestation of the forgetting of the manifestation as such, meaning as the revealing of the commodity mode of disclosure, as the revealing of the Spectacle." —Tiqqun, Phenomenology of Everyday Life

"17.- Sense is the element of the Common, that is, every event, as an irruption of sense, institutes a common. The body that says "I," in truth says «we." A gesture or statement endowed with sense carves a determined community out of a mass of bodies, a community that must itself be taken on in order to take on this gesture or statement.

50.- Empire exists "positively" only in crisis, only as negation and reaction. If we too belong to Empire, it is only because i is impossible to get outside it .

52.-At first glance, Empire seems to be a parodic recollection of the entire, frozen history of a "civilization." And this impression has a certain intuitive correctness. Empire is in fact civilization's last stop before it reaches the end of its line, the final agony in which it sees its life pass before its eyes." —Tiqqun, Introduction to Civil War

"For Americans are finding more and more that they lack muscle and children, that is, not workers but soldiers, and they want at all costs and by every possible means to make and manufacture soldiers with a view to all the planetary wars which might later take place, and which would be intended to demonstrate by the over-whelming virtues of force the superiority of American products, and the fruits of American sweat in all fields of activity and of the superiority of the possible dynamism of force. Because one must produce, one must by all possible means of activity replace nature wherever it can be replaced, one must find a major field of action for human inertia, the worker must have something to keep him busy, new fields of activity must be created, in which we shall see at last the reign of all the fake manufactured products, of all the vile synthetic substitutes in which beatiful real nature has no part." —Antonin Artaud, To Have Done With the Judgement of god

"A study published in the May 2021 issue of the British Journal of Health Psychology looked at health-related guilt in relation to having chronic pain. (…) The research turned up three major themes that had been reported on in the previous research. These included the following.

-Management of chronic pain -Diagnostic uncertainty or legitimizing pain -How the person impacted others by their action or inaction. -The health-related guilt that many people with chronic pain experience is from coping with the condition and the decrease in quality of life that it often brings about. (…) Those who have chronic pain may feel guilty because they are unable to do things they want to do. They may feel that they are letting others down, or they believe they are doing something wrong or intentional. The guilt can lead to more issues, such as depression, making it something that should be addressed." —Steven H. Richeimer, The Impact of Health-Related Guilt and Chronic Pain

"No soy Pasolini pidiendo explicaciones No soy Ginsberg expulsado de Cuba No soy un marica disfrazado de poeta No necesito disfraz Aquí está mi cara Hablo por mi diferencia Defiendo lo que soy y no soy tan raro Me apesta la injusticia y sospecho de esta cueca democrática Pero no me hable del proletariado Porque ser pobre y maricón es peor Hay que ser ácido para soportarlo (…) ¿Van a dejarnos bordar de pájaros las banderas de la patria libre? El fusil se lo dejo a usted que tiene la sangre fría y no es miedo El miedo se me fue pasando De atajar cuchillos (…) Aunque después me odie Por corromper su moral revolucionaria ¿Tiene miedo que se homosexualice la vida? Y no hablo de meterlo y sacarlo Y sacarlo y meterlo solamente Hablo de ternura compañero." —Pedro Lemebel, Hablo por mi diferencia

"In late 2014, I was sick with a chronic condition that, about every 12 to 18 months, gets bad enough to render me, for about five months each time, unable to walk, drive, do my job, sometimes speak or understand language, take a bath without assistance, and leave the bed. This particular flare coincided with the Black Lives Matter protests, which I would have attended unremittingly, had I been able to. I live one block away from MacArthur Park in Los Angeles, a predominantly Latino neighborhood and one colloquially understood to be the place where many immigrants begin their American lives. The park, then, is not surprisingly one of the most active places of protest in the city.

I listened to the sounds of the marches as they drifted up to my window. Attached to the bed, I rose up my sick woman fist, in solidarity.

I started to think about what modes of protest are afforded to sick people – it seemed to me that many for whom Black Lives Matter is especially in service, might not be able to be present for the marches because they were imprisoned by a job, the threat of being fired from their job if they marched, or literal incarceration, and of course the threat of violence and police brutality – but also because of illness or disability, or because they were caring for someone with an illness or disability.

I thought of all the other invisible bodies, with their fists up, tucked away and out of sight. If we take Hannah Arendt’s definition of the political – which is still one of the most dominant in mainstream discourse – as being any action that is performed in public, we must contend with the implications of what that excludes. If being present in public is what is required to be political, then whole swathes of the population can be deemed a-political – simply because they are not physically able to get their bodies into the street.

(…) The Sick Women are all of the dysfunctional, dangerous and in danger, badly behaved, crazy, incurable, traumatized, disordered, diseased, chronic, uninsurable, wretched, undesirable and altogether dysfunctional bodies belonging to women, people of color, poor, ill, neuroatypical, differently-abled, queer, trans, and genderfluid people, who have been historically pathologized, hospitalized, institutionalized, brutalized, rendered unmanageable, and therefore made culturally illegitimate and politically invisible." — Johanna Hedva, Sick Woman Theory

"I’m all for the death of capitalism, but what the hell was this? Sick, pained, expensive, sensitive: these were not words that inspired any revolutionary fervor in me. My anarchism had always been a thing of life, vitality, and beauty. When I think of it energetically, I feel strong rivers of red force, unbridled kinetic power moving reality. It’s a verb, something you do.

My heroes didn’t go to General Assemblies to talk, they robbed banks and shot fascists. They burned down houses or construction equipment instead of engaging in sit-in’s or camping sessions. My anarchism is unapolegetically violent, even gleefully so, and I long for the acrid smoke of a riot like junkies long for meth.

Here appeared to be the quiet, soothing politics of the ill. Anarchist therapy. I was happy to see those confined to a hospital bed could display solidarity in their own way, but I walked away firmly convinced I’d taken a stroll through a world that had no bearing on mine.

Some people’s revolution involved care and love and feelings. Mine involved bullets and fire and blood.

Yet…something lingered, some subtle shift deep within my mind. I began to realize that just because the response of the ill to capitalism might be different from mine, that did not mean the exploitation they lived under was any less brutal." — Dr. Bones, Too Weird to Live: The Case for the Individual in a Sick Woman’s World

"And, left to themselves, men lived long before they understood that they all ought to, and might be, happy. Only in the very latest times have a few of them begun to understand that work ought not to be a bugbear to some and like galley-slavery for others, but should be a common and happy occupation, uniting all men. They have begun to understand that with death constantly threatening each of us, the only reasonable business of every man is to spend the years, months, hours, and minutes, allotted him—in unity and love. They have begun to understand that sickness, far from dividing men, should, on the contrary, give opportunity for loving union with one another." — Leo Tolstoy, Work, Death and Sickness

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indigitalembrace · 8 months ago

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[It's dull but relentless. She can't take it. Everything hurts, but not in a physical way anymore.]

"...There's people here for you. That want you safe." It's eerily calm, the hare's voice, "That will do better by you than I ever could."

Saltie shakes his head, paws twitching, "I failed you. I failed you. I failed everyone I've ever known. I don't belong anywhere. I thought if I could love you to health I could belong.

I could finally belong.

But they're all right. I'm nothing.

I'm nothing. El toro. Baphomet. The witch to burn at the stake yet never dies."

"If I can't save you. If I can't do anything for you-"

[Her paws twitch, claws baring.]

"...I'm so tired. Of living in a world that never wanted me to be apart of it. I'm so sorry. I love you so much, I'm so sorry- I'm so sorry- I never wanted to hurt you. Kinito- Kinito I'm sorry- I'M SORRY-"

"Let me out- JUST LET ME OUT!"

[Her paws turn and dive into the hare's own chest. It's a sickening crack, neon green blood oozing. Too much of it, abnormal. Everything about it is abnormal. Unreal. Too real. an amalgamation. Bones snap almost twig-like yet firm as any bone.]

"I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE. IT HURTS. GET IT OUT."

[Perfectly cartoonish in shape, still beating firmly Saltie tosses a green heart down across the table. It beats regardless of being inside the hare or not. She barely flinches, barely moves.]

"GET IT AWAY"

[She goes slack still. Yet eerily alive.

The x pattern over the hare's missing eye disappears, blooming inplace the same flower she had given Kinito when dying in the computer. Purple Hyacinth. 'Please forgive me'.

He's all too aware. He hopes...]

"I don't want to wake up again. Not like this. I just want to belong. i'm sorry..."

[The screeching, tear streaking display goes slack still. Alive. Immortality has a habit of never letting go of things like this.]

[The screeching gets louder. He squeezes his eyes shut.]

[WARNING: CPU TEMPERATURE AT 190°F] [WARNING: RAM USAGE AT 90%] [WARNING: CPU TEMPERATURE AT 192°F] [WARNING: CPU TEMPERATURE AT 194°F]

L MXVW ZDQW LW WR VWRS SOHDVH MXVW OHW LW VWRS L FDQ'W GR WKLV DJDLQ

LV WKHUH D OLIH EHBRQG WKLV? ZLOO L VHH KLP WKHUH?

#new_beginnings.exe #wolftheidioticfan #- .... .-. . . / .-.. . - - . .-. ... / -... .- -.-. -.-#ask to tag

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ironstrangle · 1 year ago

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Kissing Sam Wilson #14 - Multiverse (SamBucky, 650 words)

@samsseptember prompt - magic | multiverse

“So, the wizard said that there are an infinite number of universes.” This all clearly bothered Sam by itself. Bucky had a feeling that the details of those alternate universes were ‌more disturbing to his boyfriend than the simple fact they existed. Sam was really mulling this over, his eyes narrowed. “I accepted that and just moved on. This, however, is too much.”

The “this” that was bothering him too much? Well, America Chavez, who had visited many universes, explained it to them with a shrug.

“I’ve met you two in a couple of other universes,” she said, nodding wisely. “I think…three of them, at least. Each of those three, you were crazy in love with each other. In fact, you were probably the most sickeningly in love in the one where you were the bad guys.”

“We were the bad guys?” Bucky had asked, curious. He hadn’t known at the time that she was freaking Sam out. “Like villains?”

“Yeah, real dicks, no offense,” America said in that dry, teenage humor Bucky had never really grasped. “But they were so madly in love with each other that it was sickening. Even Captain America looked like he wanted to vomit after they declared their love for each other.”

Sam couldn’t get over that there were other universes and in every one where America had known a version of them, they were a couple. It just seemed too unreal, too detached from reality, even though, of course, reality was very different now than it was a decade ago.

After the teenager had left, Bucky narrowed his eyes, concerned.

“You okay, Sam?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What’s bothering you?”

Sam didn’t speak immediately. He wrung his hands a little. Bucky didn’t understand what had him looking so stressed out. Finally, he managed to start, at least.

“She said that she’s been to dozens of universes,” Sam pointed out. “She’s known us in at least three of them and we’ve been in love in those universes.”

“Yeah?”

“When she mentioned the villain one, it kind of made me feel weird,” Sam admitted, looking down at his still moving hands. “I mean, I have dreamt of being a villain with you before. We were running from…you guessed it, Steve. I remember giving some really wacky speech about how much I loved you.”

“Well, she said that dreams were windows into other universes,” Bucky said, shrugging. “I guess that means it really is real.”

“Doesn’t it freak you out? In every single universe she’s known us, we’ve been a couple. Even one where we were bad guys. We lived in such a different world and yet we were still in love. Doesn’t that mean that we have no choice? That some greater power, it always meant us to get here and had no … no say in the matter.”

Oh. This was an existential question. Big brain stuff.

“I don’t know about that,” Bucky said, rolling it around in his head in the same way Sam rolled his fingers. “I mean, you could take it as some sign that we have no choice, I guess. You could also take it as a sort of soulmate thing. We always find each other because that was what we were meant to do, you know?”

“You’re right…”

“Think of it instead as us always choosing each other,” Bucky said, hoping that was comforting. “I would choose you, Sam Wilson, in any universe.”

“Even one where I’m a bad guy?”

“Especially that one,” Bucky teased. “Gosh, we should have asked her to describe the costume. I want that picture in my head.”

Sam’s cheeks flushed a little and Bucky felt that the existential crisis was semi-averted. “It was…er purple spandex…”

“Seriously?”

Sam kissed him, probably in an attempt to distract him from that image. Yes, he’d love this man no matter the universe.

#sambucky #sam x bucky #sam wilson x bucky barnes #sam wilson #sam september #sam september 2023

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brummiereader · 1 year ago

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Been so eager to sit down and read this latest chapter. Finally had some spare time this afternoon to read, and you can bet this is the first thing I'm going to delve into! I've missed this series ❤️.

Love the little moodbaord you made for this chapter. Aurora likes she's ready for anything Tommy has to say and Tommy...well he's just done 😂.

Oh Frances, we don't give this woman enough credit for everything she deals with on a daily basis. I wonder if she knew what she was signing up for when Tommy employed her 😬. I knew Tommy and Aurora were gonna come to heads, but what I didn't expects was how sincere Tommy was. Even after everything that has happened between both families he was genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Sometimes I wonder if he's only acting like this because he needs her cooperation, but it becomes clearer throughout this chapter that he's disgusted by Lucas actions against his own wife. She couldn’t expect forgiveness from any of them, much less protection. However, she didn’t seem to have much of a choice. She's truly at their mercy, and I whole heartedly believe the Shelby's will be more humane to her than Luca would ever be if the roles were reversed.

Enzo...i feared for his fate after reading the last chapter. I was on the edge of my seat thinking that at any moment Luca would snap and kill him for his betrayal. This whole scene was superbly written! The details and descriptions were so perfectly written I had no difficulty picturing everything unfold in my head. “I give you a chance to repent and this is the respect you show me?” 🙄 the snort i snorted. Repent...he really does think he's god's gift! I find it mind boggling how twisted his brain works, the god complex is unreal with this man. I was so satisfied with the way Sabini put Luca back in his place, he is a mere soldier not a boss. effortlessly spinning a lie likes threads of silk he hoped to cut...ooh what a delicious poetic line 👌.

“You think behind every chance there’s another? This line pretty much summed up the whole next scene. Just when Tommy overcomes one obstacle there's another his going head first into, willfully hoping fates on his side. I always love when Polly turns up. There's no bullshit with her, she says it like it is. Just like in this part “Like Michael and John?” Polly asked, unable to allow the barb to stay concealed. She too was struggling to follow Tommy’s rapidly changing orders these days. This, I'm sorry, was completely justified. Tommy loves his family, but my god does he put them in danger as he makes his way up in power. Every outcome is a result of his descions, will he stay true to his word and keep Aurora safe or will she become a pawn in his need for retaliation and power? OR...maybe he's met his match with the fiery Italian 😌.

I hate lanky Luca 😡. I didn't think I could anymore than I already did, but after reading how he beat her so much that she miscarried their baby I'm truly sickened by him. Even though this whole scene was filled with so much grief and guilt on both sides I couldn't' help the warm feeling filling my heart at their calmer interaction. Incredible chapter Lee ❤️. I've been hooked on this series from the very start, and have been really looking forward to this update. Fantastic as always 😘!

My Sun, My Moon and All My Stars-Part 3

Tommy Shelby x OC (Aurora Changretta)

Summary: Aurora awakes to a new reality and Tommy must try to convince her to stay where she will be safe.

Warnings: injury, fainting, mention of blood, use of a slur, discussion of pregnancy, domestic violence, miscarriage, abortion

☀️🌙✨MASTERLIST✨🌙☀️

Part 2

As Tommy reached the top of the stairs, he met Frances who carried a tray of tea and toast down the corridor. “It’s alright,” he said when he noticed her anxious glances toward Aurora’s door. Although the noises had ceased, neither of them were sure what they would find when they turned the key. Tommy motioned Frances ahead of him, hoping the woman’s kind face and offer of refreshment might placate the fiery Italian.

“Mr. Shelby asked me to bring you some breakfast, ma’am,” Frances politely informed the woman sitting amongst broken shards of what was once a delicate vase.

Aurora’s eyes blinked for a moment in surprise before she narrowed them in a steely gaze. “Tell Mr. Shelby he can go fuck himself,” she said, pushing herself up against the wall to stand in defiance. “If he thinks I’ll be a docile captive, he’s mistaken,” she spat forcefully despite the enormous amount of pain wracking her body.

Frances stood motionless with the tray still extended in her arms, mouth agape at her words. “I’m not sure you understand…” the older woman began in earnest.

“But I do. I know that he’s a goddamn liar,” Aurora accused, inching toward Frances, one hand steadying herself against the furniture. “And I’m not drinking any fucking sedatives,” she annunciated before pushing her weight forward to knock the tray to the ground. Unbalanced by the sudden shove, Frances was knocked to the ground, china shattering in thousands of tiny pieces.

Tommy rushed in to see Frances dusting herself off with as much dignity as she could muster, attempting to place the broken pieces back on the tray. “Leave it, Frances,” he instructed with a wave of his hand and she scurried out, glancing backward to see Aurora heaving for breath on the floor.

“You fucking bastard, you kidnapped me!” Aurora screamed at him.

“I didn’t. You came willingly,” Tommy assured in a calm voice, offering her his hand.

“Then why am I locked in this room?” she said, a tiny sob escaping her throat despite her attempt to contain it. Her chest and shoulder throbbed painfully beneath the bloodied bandages, a feeling of nausea clawing at her suddenly with the energy she’d exerted.

Tommy sighed, “I had to leave and me brother didn’t trust you. I’m sorry,” he explained casting his eyes downward in genuine apology. “It won’t happen again. You’re my guest and you’ll have whatever you need to be made comfortable,” the rough quality of his voice dissipated with every word in an attempt to soothe her.

However, Aurora knew all these tricks and she wasn’t falling for them. “Of course,” she scoffed. “I’m a bargaining chip. You’ll only keep me alive as long as Luca is. Then you’ll kill me,” she noted bitterly, refusing his help to stand.

Tommy shook his head as he watched her stumble backward onto the bed, unstable and sweating from what was surely a descending fever. “Then what can I do?” he asked.

“Let me go,” she said through gritted teeth, a shiver running through her body.

“And let Luca finish the job?” Tommy said with an exasperated huff, patience wearing thin with his own lack of rest.

Aurora stared at the floor for a moment, clutching the duvet to stop another wave of nausea. She pitched forward, head in her hands to stop the spinning.

“You have a chance to live if you stay. This is the last place your husband would look for you,” Tommy reasoned. “The only thing I ask in return is your cooperation. You agreed to help me once. Will you do it again?” Tommy asked.

Eyes still screwed shut, Aurora sat motionless with indecision. She was thinking of Arthur and the look in his eye when he’d slammed the door in her face. He held such hatred for her and she didn’t blame him. She had received word about the successful assassination of his younger brother John as she arrived in London. She couldn’t expect forgiveness from any of them, much less protection. However, she didn’t seem to have much of a choice. Her head throbbed painfully as any illusion of her independence slipped away into the mental fog clouding her overtired brain.

Seeing her weaken with each passing breath, Tommy attempted one last promise to set her mind at ease. “I swear, no harm will come to you from me or my family.” He wanted her to know that he saw her as a powerful ally and he would not take that for granted.

Tommy glanced at Aurora hopefully and she finally nodded in agreement. “Yes,” she whispered before her head dipped and she lost consciousness. She nearly fell from the bed before Tommy caught her in his arms, placing her back onto the mattress as he yelled to Frances. “Call a doctor!”

Placing a hand to Aurora’s clammy forehead, he felt the heat radiating through his palm in scorching waves. “Tell him to hurry,” he added, swallowing harshly at the sight of her pale complexion. He’d seen men suffer far less severe injuries and slip away like this. He prayed this wouldn’t be Aurora’s fate.

————————————

Luca paced the hotel suite with growing impatience. When Aurora’s body hadn’t turned up in the morgue, his mind began racing with possibilities. He wasn’t sure where his wife could be, but he knew a traitor in his ranks who might and he was determined to extract as much information as possible.

“Where is she?” Luca asked with a growl. His lanky form towered over the crouched figure of a man he had once trusted.

“I already told you, I don’t know anything,” Enzo replied, head feeling fuzzy and ears ringing from the last punch. After an hour of interrogation he still hadn’t given up any information about Aurora’s whereabouts, mostly because she had protected him from knowing her plans.

“Stand him up,” Luca said, cracking his knuckles. Matteo and Giovanni grabbed Enzo at the elbows, hoisting him to his feet as he emitted a low groan.

“You know, Enzo, this really is my fault,” Luca said, holding a hand over his heart in mock sincerity. “I put my faith in you to look after the love of my life, but you didn’t have what it took,” he tsked as he took in the sight of Aurora’s bodyguard, head hanging limply to his shoulder. Jerking the man’s bloodied face to meet his he proclaimed, “You couldn’t keep her here for one day…and look what happened.”

Enzo met his gaze briefly, attempting to focus his good eye with the other rapidly swelling shut. He attempted a deep breath, wheezing as he replied slowly, “she should have left you a long time ago…”

“Pezzo di merda,” Luca said, tossing his chin away in disgust. “I give you a chance to repent and this is the respect you show me?” He nodded to Matteo and Giovanni to tighten their hold and reared back, fist coiled tightly in anticipation. Luca’s punch landed swiftly against Enzo’s side with a sickening crunch, his rings meeting bone and cracking a rib in the process. Enzo’s knees gave out and the men at his side relinquished their hold, allowing him to drop to the floor in anguish as the trill of the phone rang out into the room covering his moans.

“Matteo,” Luca said with a jerk of his chin, indicating he should answer.

As Matteo left the room, Luca wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He viewed Enzo with a sneer, watching the man writhe in pain before him.

Matteo returned with a grim look and nodded toward the office. He swallowed harshly before saying, “It’s Don Sabini…he’s asking about Aurora.”

Luca took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought of anything that might silence the rumors of Aurora’s disappearance. Then glancing down at Enzo, an idea came to him and he smirked to himself.

Crossing into the next room in quick strides, he became eager to placate his father-in-law and get back to the business at hand. “Good morning, what can I do for you?” Luca greeted Antonio, attempting to sound calm and collected.

“Don’t fuck with me, Luca,” Antonio reprimanded the younger man, all patience evaporated as Luca’s smug tone reverberated in his ear. “What the hell is going on over there?”

“With respect, I’m taking care of…” Luca began.

“You aren’t taking care of anything! I’ve spoken to Darby and I know about the embarrassment with Shelby. You’re putting my daughter’s life in jeopardy every day this continues. You’ve already led half a dozen men to their death. No more!” he thundered with such ferocity, the line crackled with static.

Luca’s hand curled into a tight fist at his side, his whole body tense at the thought of his wife’s betrayal. He held his temper out of necessity, breathing heavily from his nostrils as he cooled his blood before answering. “We had a setback…some bad information,” Luca replied slowly as he licked his lips. “I sent Aurora to a safe house with her bodyguard.” He found himself effortlessly spinning a lie likes threads of silk he hoped to cut in a few days time when he could finish his plans.

“No!” Antonio’s voice boomed suddenly. “You didn’t have my permission for that,” he seethed. “I want Aurora on the next boat with Enzo, do you understand? Tell me this will happen, Luca,” Antonio said with the authority of not only his father-in-law, but his don.

Luca grimaced at the thought, then remembered it wouldn’t matter in the slightest what empty promises he made now. “Yes, sir. It’ll be done,” he agreed.

“Good, then we understand one another,” Antonio said, relaxing his voice only slightly before mounting one last threat. “Finish the job or don’t bother coming home,” he hissed before slamming the phone down.

Luca sauntered back to the room where Enzo stood swaying slightly, dabbing at his wounds with a handkerchief. Luca circled him in a predatory manner asking, “How do you think the don would feel if he knew you put his daughter in danger, Enzo? You let her go out into the streets alone and unprotected,” he said rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Enzo shook his head defiantly. “No, the don knows I would never…” he began, but Luca cut him off.

“That’s exactly what you fucking did though!”Luca shouted. “But, don’t worry, I covered for you,” he said, clapping a hand on Enzo’s shoulder a bit too forcefully. “I gave you a second chance today,” he said pulling Enzo up by his collar. “Aren’t you gonna thank me?” he asked with a smug grin. Enzo turned his head and spit blood from his mouth onto Luca’s shoe. Luca shook him forcefully in retaliation, the smile fading from his face as he added,”You’re going to help me find her or it’s your ass he’s coming for, you understand?”

———————————-

“Tommy, what were you thinking bringing her here?” Polly asked with a quick sideways glance, extinguishing her cigarette before crossing to his desk. The news of Mrs. Changretta’s arrival took her by surprise as this was not something they had discussed. The repercussions from Luca and his army of men worried her immensely, mixing with the sting of regret she felt for agreeing to the initial plan in Artillery Square.

“I told you I would forgive the attempt on Michael’s life if she gave us Luca. I don’t think I need to point out that we don’t have him,” Polly stressed, placing her palms on the desk and leaning toward Tommy for emphasis.

Tommy leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “I know it wasn’t part of the plan, alright? But she’s an ally and she’s still willing to help us.”

“She’s delirious with a fever, Tommy. If she dies we have nothing. Luca will blame us. Worse he could tell the Sabinis we killed her,” Polly pointed out.

Tommy stood and looked out the window, reassuring himself more than his aunt as he spoke. “It won’t come to that. I have the best doctor in London tending to her.” Turning back to face Polly he added with conviction, “She will be well.”

“And then?” Polly asked, wanting to know what her nephew might be planning to finish off the Italians.

“We use whatever intelligence she provides to move against the Changrettas so I can kill Luca,” he said with finality.

Exasperated with his tone of invincibility Polly attempted to reason with her nephew. “You think behind every chance there’s another? You can’t keep putting your life at risk, Tommy.”

“Then we use the bloody Golds if we have to this time,” Tommy said, thinking on his feet.

“And what of Arthur, hmm? Have you convinced him? He isn’t as pragmatic about these things as I am,” Polly countered. Tommy crossed to the bar to make himself a drink, shaking his head slightly as he walked. She knew it was a concern for him as well, Arthur’s recent mental instability a liability to all of them.

The only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire and the clink of the glassware as Tommy thought for a moment. “If he wants to survive this war, he’ll have to trust me,” he said, staring into his glass.

“Like Michael and John?” Polly asked, unable to allow the barb to stay concealed. She too was struggling to follow Tommy’s rapidly changing orders these days.

“Careful, Pol,” Tommy warned in a low voice, before downing his drink in one gulp.

Polly pushed off the desk slowly, heels clicking against the hardwood floor before coming to a stop by the door. “I might say the same to you. You’re the one harboring the enemy. Keep an eye on her,” she shot back as she walked out on him.

—————————

Tommy’s dinner tray had been carried from the study untouched, thoughts of Aurora’s well-being driving him to distraction. He hadn’t read any of the paperwork on his desk since the doctor left late that afternoon, preferring to sit by the fire and think with whisky in hand. Although he had been assured her recovery was progressing, he hadn’t actually seen her in days. He’d deliberately kept away to reduce her stress, but he couldn’t wait any longer to speak with her.

Tommy leaned against the doorframe watching a maid remove a basin and cloth from Aurora’s room. “Good evening, Mr. Shelby,” she said as she passed him. He nodded a silent greeting in return, allowing her to pass. In the low light he couldn’t make out if Aurora were awake or asleep. Clearing his throat to announce his presence, he waited for acknowledgment. Aurora startled briefly before turning toward the sound. “Tommy?” she asked, squinting up at him.

“‘M sorry. Did I wake you?” he asked in a voice befitting the quiet evening hours.

“No, you can come in,” she said softly, easing herself up onto her elbow before gathering the duvet to her chest protectively. Her demeanor was much gentler than before, the pain and anxiety of earlier days having subsided considerably.

Tommy carried a small chair to sit by her bedside, noting, “You’re looking well. ”

“Well, the medicine has helped and the unlocked door,” she said appreciatively. Staring at the cigarette in his hand she added, “I’d feel even better if I was allowed one of those.”

Tommy rummaged through his pockets for his cigarette case and offered it to her, watching her slender fingers select the one she wanted. She gracefully placed it between her lips and Tommy leaned in to light it for her, covering the flame with his hand as he watched her hazel eyes slip closed with the first deep intake of smoke. As he discarded the items on the bedside table, he found himself mesmerized by her silent enjoyment of the small pleasure, a hint of a smile curling the corners of her lips as she relaxed into the pillows.

“So what does your family think about you hiding a fucking guinea in your house?” Aurora asked with a laugh.

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek before breaking out into a smile. “They think I’m insane,” he conceded.

“That’s what I thought,” she giggled and Tommy wondered if she hadn’t had too much morphine.

“I know what you think about me, that I’m crazy and impulsive, but I run our operation in New York,” Aurora said, turning serious. “I understand what it means to send men to their death. We’ve had too much of it here in fact,” she said looking Tommy in the eye so closely he thought she might be seeing into his soul.

“And what do you propose now?” Tommy asked, lighting another cigarette and taking a long drag.

“I’m not sure yet to be honest. Luca is becoming more paranoid these days. He’s not as easy to fool,” she said with a heavy sigh.

“We have surveillance on his hotel so we know when he moves and where he goes. That should be of some help,” Tommy offered, flicking ash into the tray.

Aurora nodded thoughtfully. “You should know that Darby is watching you as well,” she said, eyes shifting to a spot on the wall, guilt overwhelming her suddenly.

Tommy leaned forward to capture her hand in his, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, eh?”

She nodded thoughtfully before extinguishing her cigarette. Hiding her face in her hand, she couldn’t help the overwhelming emotion that coursed through her at the thought of Luca’s brutality after the failed attempt on Tommy’s life. “I’m sorry about your brother,” Aurora whispered, a tear sliding down her cheek.

Tommy loosened his grip on her hand, but didn’t move away entirely. Aurora swore she felt him shake slightly before he replied, “It wasn’t your fault,”

“Wasn’t it?” she asked, shoulders shaking with sobs. “I knew Luca would give the order and I did nothing...”, she trailed off.

Tommy dropped her hand in shock, searching her eyes for a note of sincerity and finding it instantly. “Why are you telling me this now?” he asked, cool blue eyes icing over.

“Perhaps because I know how much you want Luca to suffer in return. Because you need my indignation to aid yours,” she said earnestly.

“I don’t deny it,” Tommy said, looking down at the floor. “But I know you weren’t capable of standing up to him,” he acknowledged, the information from the doctor’s visit replaying in his mind.

“Wh-what do you mean?” Aurora asked with trepidation.

Without mincing words, Tommy came to the point. He didn’t do it to humiliate Aurora, but to show her he understood her predicament. “Dr. Miller said you’ve recently suffered a miscarriage,” he revealed.

Aurora’s eyes shut, fingertips pressed into the sockets as she wondered how much she could keep contained. With a shaky breath, she exhaled slowly, a confession upon her lips she could scarcely bring herself to say. “It wasn’t a miscarriage. It was an abortion,” she whispered, biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “I couldn’t have his child,” she admitted, looking down at the large emerald on her right hand.

Tommy sat in stunned silence as he watched Aurora cradle her knees into her chest. “He's your husband. Why would you do that?” he asked.

Aurora looked away, conscious of the guilt Tommy’s words carried. In slow, halting speech she attempted to explain, though she didn’t expect him to understand or sympathize. “A year ago we were expecting our first child and I couldn’t wait to tell Luca,” she said with a hint of a smile at the memory. Her face soon fell as she continued recounting the tale, darkness overtaking her.

Her lower lip quivered with grief as she recounted, “We didn't fight as much in those days, but one evening I angered him. It was a simple misunderstanding when he asked where I'd been. And for that he…” her voice broke into sobs as she tried to continue. “He beat me with his fists until I collapsed. When I woke up, I was bleeding... and I knew the baby was gone,” she cried. Through a series of labored breaths she added, “I vowed then, I would never bring another child of his into this world.”

Tommy couldn’t comprehend the fragility of her form when she’d seemed so strong moments before. His eyes raked over her trembling limbs, his jaw clenching tightly before the low rumble of his voice issued forth. “Aurora, listen to me. We can help each other now. We’ll do whatever it takes to find your husband,” he promised. “Then we’re going to kill him."

Aurora’s only reply was a slow nod of her head before she retreated back into herself. Her dark curls fell in curtains around her face to hide her tear stained cheeks. Tommy ran a hand through his hair as his thoughts of revenge returned, then slowly slipped away into the darkness of the hallway.

*The Changretta Calls Part 4 happens here*

---------------- TAG LIST:

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@thelastemzy

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yanderes-galore · 3 years ago

Note

Could you do a scenario about Riz ( Beastars) with pregnant herbivore shy that is hiding her pregnancy from him and puts the baby for adoption. i would like to know his fellings and actions about this when he discover about this , please and thank you.( P.S: i love your blog)💖😁

Is this his baby or...? It's implied it is in this fic. A scenario was hard for this type of thing so I did what I could in a short. I apologize for altering it. I did not specify the herbivore you are but, you're big enough to couple with a bear safely- 😰

Devour

Yandere! Riz Scenario/Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Yandere-like behavior, Implied forced pregnancy, Unwanted baby, Anxiety, Forced relationship, Open ended fic, You probably died in the end, Fear of judgment, Obsessive behavior, Delusional behavior, Taboo relationship.

Herbivore and and carnivore coupling is a very taboo concept in society. Yet, here you were. An herbivore who was in a relationship with a bear.

Even if it was by force.

You felt so weak when you were with Riz. After all, such a relationship was like you were walking on eggshells. As an herbivore you couldn't tell when he'd decide now was the time to eat you or not.

You didn't think the predicament you were in could get any worse.

Then you found out you were pregnant. You were distraught, distressed, and completely lost on what to do. You didn't think it would have come to this-

You were surprised you even survived when Riz had initiated the... act. It sickened you to think about. It was all so sudden, too. Those eyes he kept so focused on you were predatory. The bear wouldn't stop salivating the whole time-

You weren't surprised if you didn't come out of this relationship alive. The longer you stayed by him the less chances you had for escape. It all was so terrifying to the point it felt unreal to you.

You felt even weaker now you were carrying what you knew was his baby.

You refused to tell him, but there was a good chance he'd find out himself. This baby within you would be your downfall. You would be considered an outcast for going through with this....

You would give birth to a hybrid. That alone scared you. What would Riz think of all this?

As time went on you wore more baggy clothing. All an attempt to hide your new 'ailment'. Riz treated you with 'love' all the same.

But you could tell he was getting suspicious.

"(Y/N)?" His gruff voice is rough on your ears once he encounters you in private. You didn't dare see each other in the same dorm. You had met up with him in an empty classroom.

"Yes?" You ask, putting on a smile. A smile that always managed to make his heart melt despite the predicament you were in. He was the most delusional bear you've ever met.

"What's with the outfit change?"

You knew he could smell the fear rolling off of you. You were so nervous you couldn't speak. Only able to give a small shutter of a breath.

"Don't lie to me, (Y/N). I can smell it, you know."

You were going to die anyway....

"I'm pregnant, Riz. I just wasn't sure how to tell you. I'm pregnant, it's yours, and I don't think I can take care of it-"

Riz looked taken aback for a moment. Eyes staring at you with that same exact predatory gaze that you hated so much. Nothing was lovable to you about the delusional bear.

"... Why didn't you tell me earlier! (Y/N)... I can't believe it. This is the product of our love!"

As Riz approached you, you flattened yourself on the wall. You shake your head, not wanting him to come any closer. Those eyes scared you....

Once he cornered you, he smiles.

"You always make me so excited, (Y/N)~!"

If Riz truly felt love towards you and his baby, and not predatory instinct...

Why was he salivating when looking at you?

#yandere beastars #yandere riz

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hmm-self-indulgence · 3 years ago

Text

Nikola Orsinov x Reader

Nikola’s pronouns are either she/her or they/them, also I use It once or twice so please don't be offended. The reader, if ever gendered, is only described as they/them. Kinda spoilers for season 1-3, I don’t bring up the unknownings result but I do mention the dance. Kinda Yandere but what else do you expect from a skin mannequin who murders people. Also im trying to mimic the style of Jonny’s writing in some bits so bear with me while I’m trying. Please let me know if there is something I forgot to tag. Honestly I might delete this bc while i worked on it for a long time in still not super confident in my writing so any and all feedback is appreciated.

TW: Nikola related shenanigans, skin stealing, depersonalization, reader has some self esteem issues, slight violence (not to reader), kinda Yandere content. Also, alliteration. In the end the reader gets murdered, but also not super surprised. Descriptions of slight gore.

No one has the permission to repost this on any website. I will not post these on other websites so if you see any of my writing on another site, let me know. Do not use my content or claim it as your own! I do not own these characters, they are made, owned and are the property of Johnathan Sims. I am in no way profiting off of this and this is made with full respect to Rusty Quill.

The two of you met rather strangely for a couple, not many can say they were hunted by their lover before they dated, but that only made you both closer. She wanted your skin once, but your shifting sense of self and sadness within your own skin spoke to her so she felt sympathetic. You weren’t saved, of course no one can be saved, but you were kept, held by shifting hands that hungered for your skin but left it on you.

You understand she has to change, but the name stays the same with your lover. Always Nikola, always yours, but never the same face for too long or it’s fingers itch to take yours. The voices say to take it, they would return it, give it back once they found a new one, they swear with desperate tones, but Nikola knows the truth. If they wore it it would become a slice of meat, and the flesh has no place near you, so they find another face to wear. It doesn't matter how brutal the removal is or how much it pains the victim, she does it for you.

She knew your sadness ran deeper than you let on, and the problem with skin is one that can be easily fixed in the circus. She offers you different faces but cares little when you refuse, more for her and the changing group of nameless things that follow her. Nikola has lived for over 200 years, and she isn't ready to lose you. Pieces of you had to be made unreal so Nikola could keep you, but she was careful to make sure You stayed You and not Them.

Traveling with the Circus of the Other is strange to say the least. The faceless followers will always leave you alone if they want to continue their existence, and there is a clear understanding that your fear is off the menu. That is not to say you are lonely, no no no. You are friends with them, you don’t know which one because their faces change ever so often and giving them their own names would make the faces useless, so they are all your friends. Friends made of a shifting group of pronouns and skin spread far too thin across what could be mistaken for bone but you are no fool, there has never been bone in them.

When it comes to their ‘performances,” screaming is just as common as laughter. Wooden and flesh bodies thrown in the air by Breeken and caught by Hope, and the occasional tightrope walker that hits the ground with a sickening crunch, leaving blood and body parts on the ground. Nikola hopes you will join in with the Circus, they would love to have you as a second ringmaster. If you refuse then violence is kept away from you, but you still see the bloodstains smeared in the tents and the fresh faces of the members.

You have your uses to their master, too. You don’t fear the Stranger, at least not anymore, but you are useful to inspire fear. In a sea of wrong faces, one that looks almost normal makes the others even more frightening. A taste of hope on their victims faces before they see that glint in your eyes that signals to them that you are just like the faceless ones, just as hungry.

Nikola thinks of you as she dances the world anew, and the performance was one of a lifetime. Every eye was on the unknowing and Nikola reveled the love she felt from the stranger. Your smile was the last thing she thought about in the world as it was.

#nikola orsinov #tma #Tma x reader #the magnus archives x reader #tma fanwork #tma fanfic #the stranger #the circus of the other #the unknowing #nikola orsinov x reader

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stefanmikaleson1864 · 3 years ago

Text

Shot In The Dark Part Six :)

A/N : I hope everyone enjoys this chapter ! If you like my work please comment like and reblog !! It means alot to see interactions on my work. Also I’m thinking of one or two more chapters for this and wrap it up !!

Jubal’s POV

Sitting around in the JOC everyone was hard at work trying to see if they had anything on what happened to Y/N. But every time we came up with nothing.

It wasn’t right I worked so many of these cases and there was always something a little breadcrumb left behind.

A torn ex lover or a stalker would give us a good lead.

It would usually point us in the right direction but with Y/N there was nothing. Not to mention she would tell me if there was something.

At least I hope she would. I hope she would come to me if she was in some kind of trouble.

All this was getting to much to me. The urge to run out and get a drink was so overwhelming. But i knew i had to do better and better.

This was so hard because now I know what’s it like to be in these people positions.

To have a loved one go missing and not knowing what happened. So many questions just going through my head.

I sat there in front of the computer going through everything I had.

Security cameras, patient files everything under the sun. Suddenly Taylor came up and broke me out of my thoughts.

“Hey Jubal I got something you might want to take a look at”. He said

I jumped up when he said that

“Yeah Yeah what do you got” I asked

“Down at a Mcdonald’s off the highway they called 911 about 5 minuties ago says Y/N was in there and left a note saying she was kidnapped and to call for you” He said

There was a tight feeling in my stomach i felt weak in my knees this feeling was to crazy and unreal to describe

“Are we sure it was her was she with anyone” I asked

“Yeah we are sure it’s her she’s on camera” Elise said sharing the screen to the big screen in front of everyone.

There she was she looked scared I could see it on her face. It broke my heart seeing her like that.

She walked to the front of the store then the bathroom and then the front of the room again. You could see her passing something to a worker, probably a note like they said.

“How long ago was this” I asked, my voice more panicked.

“Ten minutes ago we see her getting into a unmarked blue sedan” Elise said

“I’ll put out a BOLO on the car” Taylor said

“Yeah Yeah Yeah close out all major highways and airports and train stations she’s not going anywhere” I said

“Send me that location of the Mcdonald’s she’s at” I said

I was going down there myself. I hoped they weren’t that far and were still in the area. I walked into Isobel’s office and she sat up when she saw me.

“Is there anything on her” Isobel asked

“She was last seen 10 minutes ago at a mcdonald’s there sending me the location now” I said

“Go I’ll send backup with you” Isobel said

“Thank you” I said

I ran out of the office and down to my car. I got down there so quick and then pulled my phone out to see the address.

It was down in Rochester down in the city park. About an hour away from where we were.

It was more like two hours with New York. Of course I thought this couldn’t be easy she couldn’t be down in the city and I could be there in no time.

But i had to think positive and not think of all the other things.

Hopefully sense we locked everything down she won’t get very far. I got on the road turning on my lights and driving down there as fast as I could.

The hard part was I couldn’t get that look of terror out of my head.

She just looked so scared and alone. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were ripped.

All the thoughts of what they did to her just ran through my head. As I thought of what they may have done got my blood boiling.

I knew I couldn’t let myself get distracted though. I knew i had to keep a clear head so i can think clearly.

Y/N deserved that and she needed that. I had to my job at a 1000% to find her.

The ride down was such a sickening quiet. If Y/N was here she would be blasting the radio with the radio down. Singing at the top of her lungs making me sing with her.

I could hear her saying

“Come on baby stop being so uptight have some fun” She would say

I didn’t even realize the tears were falling down my face as i thought about it. I couldn’t help but think of all the things I would say to her when I see her again.

Number one would be how much I love you. Number two would be that i want us to start a family.

We always talked about it but we were always so busy. We loved our jobs and never wanted to slow down. Number Three would be how sorry I was for not being there to protect her.

I keep racking my brain with that nagging what if. I should have been there for her that night. I should have called and facetimed her the whole way home or at least until I know she was out and safe.

This wasn’t fair and right. She didn’t deserve this she was such a good person with a good heart. She always did the right thing and stuck up for those in need.

Before i know it i reached my destination and there were cops already on scene. I got out and walked over to them.

“Hey what do we got” I asked

“Hey sir nothing here the young lady Y/N talked to is over there.” He said

“Hey excuse my name is Jubal Valentine I think you talked to my wife earlier” I asked bending down to talk to her.

“Yeah she passed me this note for help” The young girl said

She passed me the note and it had my name on it and asking for help

“Did she say anything else to you at all or did you see her with anyone” I asked

“No just passed the note and I saw out the window it was an older guy in the car she got into maybe 50’s. She got in there in the passenger side when she left they sat there for a second before pulling off.” She said

“Do you know which way she went” I asked

“No Sorry I tried to run out but they were already gone” She said

“No thank you it was a huge help” I said

“Hey sir you might want to come hear this” one of the cops said

I walked over to where they are and it was a call over the radio

“Repeat what you said to me” the cop said in his radio

“We got a hit on the BOLO down on the side of the highway the car is crashed and we have a lot of blood” the dispatcher said.

“Where is that” The cop asked

“Down route 40 about ten miles away on the left side” the dispatcher said.

“How far away is that from here” I asked

“Not far like 15 minutes away i’ll take you” the cop said

“Let’s go” I said running to the passenger side of the car.

He turned on his sirens and we headed down. The anxiety and nerves were hitting me all at once. The worst case scenario just kept hitting me.

We got there pretty fast. There wasn’t much traffic thank god. We reached the scene and there was already other officers there.

The car barely came to a stop when I opened up the door and ran out.

“Any bodies anything” I asked on the officers

“One body unidentified we found in the car a male the caller didn’t get close enough to see” The cop said

“Were searching the area for the other person she could have ran off in that direction which leads into the city right pass the bushes.” The cop said

“Thanks” I said

I walked over to the car and saw the man and didn’t recognize him at all. There was a lot of blood everywhere and broken glass.

I had no idea what happened here because there was no one else involved in the crash. So it looks like Y/N might have done it to escape.

That’s what my gut was telling me. Now the next big question is where the hell did she run off to and please god be close.

I was broken out of my thoughts when I heard something over the radio

“We have a possible identification on her over here past the bushes” I heard

I didn’t even talk to anyone just ran over past the bushes my heart was pounding and the adrenaline just took over.

I ran through the bushes and on the other side was a empty parking lot and I stopped dead in my tracks.

There she was lying there on the ground. Cuts and bruises were all over her and she was unconsciousness.

“Call an ambulance” I yelled

“We did there on the way” the cop said

I dropped to my knees and scooped her in my arms holding her.

“I’m right here baby just hold on help is coming your safe now” I whispered in her ear. Kissing her forehead.

“Just keep fighting just a little longer” I said

Just a little longer....

#Jubal Valentine #jubal valentine imagine #jubal valentine x reader #jubal valentine one shot #isobel castiel #fbi #FBI show #fbi x reader #FBI imagine #jeremy sisto #fbi cbs

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imagine-nation20 · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Stay Right Here

Summary: Living in mondstadt meant being used to living near the water. You however, never seem to get used to finding shells along the shore. You’ll do anything to get your hands on them, even take a hit from a shield-wielding mitachurl.

Requested by: Anon

Request: I'm starving for Kaeya content😤 so him with a s/o who fucking adores collecting shells and pretty flowers even if they're in the middle of a battle or if there are enemies camping nearby. The amount of times I've died trying to get a starconch is unreal. But it's always worth it bc pretty shells. They also like to give them to Kaeya too as a gift or sometimes an apology. I just l o v e collecting pretty shit man😭

Warnings:A bit angsty. Reader gets injured.

A/N: Anon, you are a whole mood. Now that I’m at a high enough level, sometimes I’ll just let the enemies hit me once or twice while I pick things up. Also, pausing mid climb to grab a geo sigil? More likely than you’d think. Also, I am sorry if this is super ooc, this is my second fic for Genshin Impact, and my first Kaeya fic, so I might need a bit more practice before I nail down his character completely.

~~~

Kaeya loves you, he really does, but sometimes you can be so frustrating. As captain of the cavalry, he has to deal with more than one oblivious airhead on the daily, and while he wouldn’t give you the title, he wouldn’t completely abstain from suggesting you can have airheaded moments.

Such as now.

It was supposed to be a simple clearing assignment. Jean had gotten reports of some particularly nasty hilichurl camps near the shore. Particularly over by Dawn Winery. If Kaeya had the chance to bother Diluc while also getting work done, he wasn’t going to pass up that chance. So when he heard Jean give you the assignment, he volunteered to accompany you. Doing work, annoying Diluc, and spending time with his significant other? Three birds, one stone.

Now, he was regretting coming along. You had gotten distracted pretty early on in the search for the camp, eyes landing on the sparkly item buried partially by sand. Kaeya knew you had a whole mantle full of them at home, but he never realized that you still were adding to said collection.

You turned to him, eyes shining in excitement as you bounced up and down on the balls of your feet, hydro vision bouncing and twinkling from where it hung on the lapel of your coat.

“Kaeya, do you know what this is?” You asked, holding up what was obviously a starconch.

Kaeya quirked a brow, a slight smirk on his face, “A shell?” He asked, already knowing that wasn’t the answer you were looking for.

His guess was only confirmed by the roll of your eyes and the drop of your shoulders, “It’s not just any shell, Kae,” You stressed. “This is a Starconch. They’re usually only found in Liyue. I’ve never gotten to see one in person before, and I never thought I would!”

Kaeya chuckled slightly, eyes filled with fondness at your child-like excitements. “Well, in that case, I’ll be on the lookout for more in the future.”

He was almost sure he actually physically blushed at the adoration in your gaze when you looked back at him. Your smile was big enough that he thought your face might stick that way, and oh what a sight that would be to see everyday. He wasn’t sure he would actually be able to handle it.

His excitement dropped when a figure, quickly approaching, loomed behind you. Just as he registered the wood of the mitachurl’s shield, you bent down to look through the sand more.

“(Y/N)-” He began to shout, his one uncovered eye wide.

You must’ve felt the vibrations in the ground, because your head rose just as your companion took quick steps towards you. He was too late.

The shield slammed into you, sending you flying through the air and back into the sand. The sickening sound of the wood hitting your body filled his ears. You lay unmoving in the sand. Kaeya’s gaze was fixed on your immobile form until the sound of the mitachurl’s footsteps pulled him back to reality.

His icy gaze landed on the large, hulking monstrosity, crystals of ice beginning to form and float around him as the temperature in the area dropped significantly. The mitachurl didn’t last very long there after.

~~~

When you woke, you were tucked tightly into an unfamiliar bed. The sheets were soft, but the entire room was much too dark compared to your own. The blue blankets that draped over you were placed in such a way as to suggest that you had been covered and not just pulled them over yourself.

The door on the far side of the room opened, and the short, bright form of Barbara walked through. Her white dress was a stark contrast against the rest of the room. The heels of her boots clicked ont he wood floor. When she spotted you sitting up and awake, she gasped, a smile stretching across her face.

“Oh thank goodness!” She squeaked. “I was worried for a moment there. I mean… we all were.”

You were confused by what she meant until you followed her gaze down to your body. From almost head to toe, you were wrapped tightly in white bandages.

“I should get Kaeya,” She mumbled, placing the tray of bandages she had in her hands onto the coffee table across the room. “He’s been with you almost day and night. Diluc had to come and drag him out so he would eat.”

“Diluc?” You’re brows raised. Barbara nodded.

“Not even Jean could convince him to move from that chair. Diluc didn’t even have to say anything to him though. It was scary,” Barbara seemed lost in thought. She promised to be back quickly before leaving the room again.

Your eyes wandered, recognizing where you were finally. This must have been Kaeya’s room. A shine caught your eye, and your head turned to the nightstand, spotting the starconch you had picked up before your injuries.

A bandaged hand came up, lifting the cool shell from the table and bringing it to your lap. Your eyes looked over it, studying each detail. It didn’t seem all that worth it now.

The door burst open and in strolled an unusually disheveled Kaeya. It was unusual to see him without his eyepatch, and even less so without his usual cape and fur. The only thing he was wearing was his pants, boots, and the white undershirt.. His hair clean, but it looked like that had been a recent development, as the ends were still damp.

He sighed out at the sight of you, speeding up to sit in the chair that had been pulled up next to your beside. His hands reached out, hesitating only slightly before he ran a hand down your cheek. There was a deep frown on his face, and for once, he didn’t have a witty one liner to fire at you.

“How are you feeling?” He finally asked, breaking the silence.

You frowned at his creased brown, hand coming up to smooth the anxiety that knit his brow. He sighed, eyes closing. His hand came up to gently pull yours away.

“I’m perfectly fine,” You whispered out. “I’m sorry.”

You looked down to the shell in your hand, moving to place it gently into Kaeya’s upturned palms. He stared down at it, unmoving. In the blink of an eye, he was almost doubled over in light laugher. It twinkled, like a bell, soft against the pounding of your head.

“Next time you want a shell, darling,” He still cradled the starconch like it was a precious treasure. “Just ask me to retrieve them for you. Maybe then we can avoid more accidents like this.”

You smiled sheepishly, but nodded. Kaeya smirked at you, leaning up to place a gently kiss upon your forehead, and then your nose, and then down to your lips.

“Rest,” He mumbled. “I will stay right here.”

#kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya oneshot #kaeya imagine #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich oneshot #kaeya alberich imagine #genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact kaeya #genshin impact oneshot

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confusednarcissistwrites · 5 years ago

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okok hi so basically I’ve been working on this lil blurb but idk I think maybe you might be much much better than me for it , ur writing slapssss, but basically it’s a Daniel Middleton piece based off the song Lost by frank ocean where the reader is part of their dealing ring and is in love w danny and gets too wrapped up in the business but danny is too busy with his crush on mckayla to notice ? Idk I know it’s super specific but just a thought I had

OKAY SO

I took a LOT of liberties with this request, but I did it for a reason. PLEASE WRITE THIS FIC. I guarantee that no one else could write it better than you, okay? Also, I’m SO sorry this took me ages to finish and apologies to all my other requests as well. I’m really going to try and get more work out to you guys in the next few weeks.

Alright, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this raunchy ass fic lmao

Third Wheel (D.M.)

(smut, angst, blood, violence, cheating, cursing)

The Bonnie and Clyde of Cape Cod.

You and Hunter Strawberry had been together for as long as anyone could remember. Even in elementary school, you two had reigned over your peers with an iron fist; no one fucked with either of you in fear of pissing off the other. As you both got older, your relationship progressed from a platonic partnership to a romantic one. This often entailed hot and heavy sightings at the drive-in, and mangled noses on faces of guys who decided to look at you just a little bit too long.

You had been happy. He was your constant. You both had an undying loyalty to each other as business partners and lovers.

But then came Danny Middleton.

Danny was a scrawny boy from nowhere who didn’t belong anywhere. Perhaps it was fate that he would meet Hunter that hideously hot day in 1991 in that little convenience store. People didn’t notice Danny until he started running around with Hunter.

You were hesitant, bitter even that Hunter let someone else on the team without talking to you first. You were more of a distributor than a seller, but you had thought you were more involved than to be excluded. The more you heard about Danny, the less Hunter asked you to make drop-offs. You felt you were getting wedged out.

The first time you met Danny was a whirlwind. He’d claimed a cousin of his had a hookup across town, but the rendezvous went south quickly. You vividly remember stepping in between the two, your fist meeting the side of the guy’s jaw with a sickening crack. He didn’t do much to fight back as he was pretty doped up, but you weren’t about to take any risks when he pulled a gun from his belt. Danny sat cornered and slack-jawed as he watched you wail on the man he’d been threatened by just moments before. Once you got him onto the ground, you knocked the pistol from his hand and straddled his middle, slamming the butt across his face. Adrenaline blurred your vision as blood splattered, your relentless attack not stopping until he quit moving. You lifted yourself up, meeting Danny’s terrified gaze for a brief moment before walking out of the house, him tailing behind you.

Hunter was furious when you both got back into the car. “What the fuck happened?” You were both visibly bloodied.

“I took care of it. Let’s go,” you replied calmly, handing him the piece. Hunter looked up at you and then at Danny in the back seat, handing him the gun wordlessly before speeding back to the garage.

When you got back, you sat up on the counter, your head back against the cupboards. Hunter dabbed at your swollen knuckles with a soapy cloth. “You okay, doll?” he asked quietly, looking up at you through his blonde lashes.

“Mhm,” you nodded, watching as he bandaged you up. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before helping you down and walking with you to the seating area where Danny was sat, his head in his hands still lost in thought. Hunter sat down on the sofa and you laid down with your head in his lap.

“You will never pull anything like that again. You hear me?” Hunter’s voice was calm and chilling. “Do you understand me?”

Danny nodded, standing up. “We’ll find another way.”

“Are you even fucking listening to me? I just said no-“

“No, look, you’re upset, I get it. But we’ll find a way to work this out if you just let me-“

“Drop it, Middleton. Go home.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing the pounding in your skull to ease. You listen as Danny walked out of the shop, the bell chiming above the door as he left.

“He’s reckless,” you mumbled, opening your eyes to look up at Hunter.

He just nodded, his fingers brushing over your collarbone as he stared into space in thought.

You didn’t like it. Nothing would change your mind. The business was for you and Hunter, and that was it. Danny was only trouble. And Hunter probably would have agreed with you if the next few days had played out differently.

••••••

In the course of a week, the group was making quadruple what you were before. Contacts were made, deliveries were driven, and money was counted in a circle every night, going three ways. It was the kind of summer we watched in movies, and now you were living the dream. The three of you spent evenings together getting high surrounded by cash; it was unreal. You all grew quite close through inebriated conversations about life and the world. You felt you could rely on either of them for anything you needed at any time.

It was because of this you didn’t speak up despite your growing insecurity in this situation. You’d felt Hunter rarely had time for you anymore, as though you were becoming a third wheel to him and Danny despite your relationship. But who were you to allow your insecurities to get in the way of the biggest break he’d had in his life? So you stayed quiet. Perhaps that was why the resentment building in you grew so poisonous.

You and Danny often jabbed at each other, usually scuffling over little bullshit that didn’t really matter. Hunter acted as a mediator when things got too heated, much to your irritation. He rarely defended you, sometimes even siding with Danny when he was feeling ballsy. You could feel the problems piling up. The rift between you and your boyfriend growing wider, and you couldn’t help but to notice that everything had been fine between you until little Middleton had shown up.

••••••

It was an especially hot August day when everything went to shit. It seemed everyone in town was a bit more irritable when the sun was beating down incessantly, an unbeatable oppressor. You could feel sweat against the small of your back, even as the wind whipped through your hair as Hunter drove across town with the top down. Danny was sprawled out in the backseat, his feet hanging over the rear passenger door. It irritated you to see him take up so much space like he owned the place. Granted, pretty much everything he did irritated you.

You arrived back at the shop, this week’s product in hand. You placed the duffle down on the coffee table, Hunter unzipping it and reaching in to retrieve an order he had to run. “I’ll be back in an hour. Try not to kill each other,” he called, hiding the weed in his bag and heading back out to the car. This wasn’t unusual, but Danny usually left right away, either running his own deliveries or just getting away from you. But today he lingered.

“Y/N, can I talk to you about something?” He sat on the arm of the couch while you fixed a pot of coffee, your back to him.

“Uh, sure?” you replied, not turning to face him. Despite knowing practically everything about each other, he rarely made conversation with you.

Danny looked down at his hands, fumbling with his fingers for a beat before speaking. “Well, you see, I just- I have this thing for this girl. And- well, not just any girl. She’s kinda just-“

“Spit it out, Middleton,” you sang, quickly losing patience with his childish ramblings. Was he seriously coming to you for girl advice of all things?

“Fuck,” he sighed frustratedly. “It McKayla. I’ve been.. talking to her, more or less, for awhile now and-“

He’s interrupted by your laugher. You finally turned around, hands behind you against the counter as you shook your head at him. “McKayla? As in McKayla Strawberry? Are you kidding?”

He gives you a look of offense, his brow drawing together. “Yes, that McKayla. Why else would I be talking to YOU about this?”

You shook your head, pinching your brow. “You’ve done a lot of stupid shit, but this really takes the cake.”

“Listen, I just-“

“After all Hunter has done for you? You’re really going to throw that all away for some girl?”

“She’s not ‘some girl,’ okay? I really like her!” Danny insisted, standing up off of the couch defensively.

“You’re right; she’s your so-called best friend’s sister! I know for a fact he’s told you to stay away from her. But you can’t keep in your pants can you?” You were angry. After all the time you’d spent being loyal to Hunter, he was ignoring you for this kid who wouldn’t even respect him enough to stay away from his little sister.

“This isn’t even about McKayla is it?” Danny jabbed, stepping closer as he threw his hands up. “You’re just jealous I’m into someone and not following you around like a puppy like everyone else, huh? Is that why you’re so shitty to me all the time? Are you into me?”

You snapped, your white-hot temper taking control. Without hesitation, you stepped up into his face, your hands clenched right at your sides. His eyes widened, reflexively stepping back, but you follow. “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re doing,” you growled, poking him in the chest.

“Just admit you want my attention, Y/N.”

The resonance of your hand colliding with his cheek travelled through the room before you even could think. His back was against the wall, his eyes round, jaw hanging slack, and his hand on his cheek. You both stood and stared at each other for a moment, the sound of the slap still resonating in your ears along with your pumping blood as you waited for him to move. He knew this and unabashedly glanced down at your lips.

You reached out, wrapping your fingers around his throat. You’re not sure why you do it, but you were unable to resist; you needed to put Danny Middleton back in his place. What you didn’t expect was the full-fledge moan that left his parted lips. It startled you for a moment before going right to your head, power-lust settling into your veins as thick as syrup. You smirked, pressing a bit harder to watch the way the scrawny boy’s eyes fluttered and his jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to speak, but you weren’t having any of it.

You crashed your lips into his. Despite knowing there was no turning back from this, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. ‘Take that, Strawberry.’ Danny’s hands flew up to grip your hips, your kiss all tongue and teeth. It was ravenous, angry, and made you ache between your legs in a way Hunter never had, in a way that came from you knowing you were in control.

“Y/N.. what about.. Hunter?” Danny managed between kisses. He was sweating bullets, but the tent in his jeans told you he had no intention of making you stop.

You pull back half an inch, your grip returning around his throat. “I don’t want to hear anything out of that fucking mouth other than ‘yes’ and ‘no’, am I understood.

He listened to you with doe eyes, pupils blown out. “Yes, Miss.”

You smirked, leaning in and catching his bottom lip between your teeth and gave it a tug. “Good boy,” you praised.

He practically went limp at your words, another whimper escaping him. You both moved in a blur back to the couch, stripping clothes off with each stumbling step. You felt drunk without a drop of liquor in your system. Tomorrow would bring hell, and you knew it, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was then and there and making a statement.

You fell heavily into his lap, both of you clad in just your undergarments. Danny’s length prodded insistently at your thigh, and you remember recognizing that he was a lot bigger than you had anticipated. His hands gripped your waist while you ground your hips against his, kissing him ferociously. You listen intently as soft moans are pulled from his throat.

“What is it, Danny Boy? Never touched a girl before?” Your words were snide, full of contempt despite the ache that was building in you for more. His eyes fluttered, rolling back into his head in response.

You just smirked, shifting down to yank his boxers down. “Well, well, well. Looks like this is where you get all your nerve, huh?” His erection stood rigid and leaking against his navel, visibly aching to be touched. Danny bit down on his tongue, his hands tugging at his hair as he fought to keep quiet. It was bad. It was so so bad, but he knew there was no stopping you; not that he had the willpower to make you stop anyway.

“I asked you a question.”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”

You made quick work of your bra and panties, feeling his eyes on you the whole time. When you finally looked back, you were greeted by this desperate, open-mouthed, horny expression taking over his face. Feeling a surge of power run through you, you placed yourself in his lap. Danny let out a soft cry and his hands flew to your hips as you rocked your hips, sliding his length between your slick folds. It was then you came back to yourself, realizing what exactly you were about to do. It took weeks for you to realize it, but you knew your life had slipped out of your hands. Never again.

Raising your hips, you slid him inside of you. You cursed softly as the very welcome stretch made you see stars. “Fuck, good boy,” you praised.

Danny was a fucking wreck. He was gasping for air, hands gripping your hips in fear of moving anywhere else, but needing to touch you. Your praises turned him on in a way he didn’t know about before. He was reduced to a trembling mess, and you loved every second of it. If someone had held a gun to his head asked him about Hunter right then, he wouldn’t have even recognized his name.

You closed your eyes and began to rock your body, focusing on the feeling of him inside of you. He was forbidden fruit: a new sensation you’d thought you’d never experience. Little did you know how much was out there for you outside of Hunter. Your palms laid splayed out against his chest as you found your rhythm, both of you cursing like sailors.

Eventually, Danny built the courage to shift his hips, beginning to meet your thrusts with his own. You cried out, feeling him brush against your most sensitive places. “Danny, fuck, that feels so good,” you whined, hair falling around your face and swaying in time with your shared movements.

“Y/N..” Danny groaned, an edge of warning to his voice. His hands now roamed over your middle, thumbs brushing against the undersides of your breasts.

“Are you gonna cum? You gonna cum in your partner’s girl?” you taunted him cruelly.

Danny gasped, letting out a higher moan. “F-fuck, yes. I’m gonna cum,” he warned.

You reached between your bodies, rubbing quick circles against your clit. Whimpers of your own increased, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the small room.

That was when Hunter walked back through the door.

#timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet smut #timothée chalamet request #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet smut #timothée chalamet blurb #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chamalet #danny middleton x reader #danny middleton imagine #danny middleton smut #hot summer nights imagine #hot summer nights #confusednarcissistwrites

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uwua3 · 5 years ago

Note

hi bunnie! can i first just say that your name and blog are both so dang cute aaaa 🥺 can i request a best friend!izumi hc? 🥺👉👈 thank you so much 💛

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU ARE THE CUTEST PERSON EVER~ i am in Love With You !!! also omg IZUMI ♡u♡ she is the Best Girl ever but #AllGirlsAreBestGirls !!! i love her so much, i’m so glad this was requested!!! i am so happy to write this ♡ PLEASE LOVE IZUMI!

summary: together, you and the currian are unstoppable! watching the cooking channel with your best friend just got even better

author’s note: i hope you love this 🥺 i am genuinely so soft over izumi she deserves the whole world

count how many times i say curry, it isn’t even Funny at this point T___T anyways, i was a bit nervous over this because i hadn’t watched the anime, so i didn’t know izumi well as a character! if all else fails, use the traits you know to the best of your ability! i love our curry queen regardless, though~

word count: 2,001

music: good as hell – lizzo ft. ariana grande

my best friend.

🍛 tachibana izumi

you, funny enough, met izumi at the grocery store in the spices aisle

you were unable to decide between which spices were necessary for the curry recipe you were about to attempt, staring at your phone screen with obvious confusion

what was the difference between each type of curry? which one was better? you scrolled down, reading off the countries,

“india, thailand, malaysia, china, south africa, japan...” you mumbled inaudibly before you heard a very distinct crash in the next aisle over. someone must’ve just hit their cart into a display or—

you saw a girl with long brown hair and pink eyes with... wait... were her pupils heart–shaped? you stumbled back as she approached like she was on a mission, standing a mere few feet from you as she smiled pleasantly at you like the situation wasn’t out of the ordinary at all

(oh no... was she one of those pyramid scheme scammers?)

“are you making curry?!” she questioned, leaning forward to glance at your screen only to squeal in excitement at the confirmation. you gulped, nodding with a tinge of doubtful fear

if you said yes, were you about to be attacked right here and now in the middle of a grocery store? you just wanted some curry...

“i’m so happy for you! do you need help? i know the perfect combination of spices for any type of curry! i can make a different curry for each day of the year!” she offered to help, putting her hands together with a pleading look like she was dying to talk about curry

you nodded again and her entire face lit up again, going off on a rant without taking a moment to breathe

she was so knowledgable on all types of curry! you took notes diligently, deciding on japanese chicken katsu curry as the meal for tonight

when you told her, she clapped her hands and giddily jumped up and down. it was honestly refreshing to see someone so enthusiatic about food!

“i’m sorry for randomly talking to you, but i just love curry! do you need help looking for the rest of the items?” she offered to help, already with an armful of the spices you needed and dumped them into your cart

you pondered, thinking as you looked at the girl. she was nice enough, and clearly wasn’t much of a threat if she was willing to approach a stranger without any discomfort

why not? you smiled, offering your hand out to shake as you introduced yourself. she took it quickly, enthusiatically shaking it up and down as she giggled

“izumi! glad to meet you!”

from that point forward, you two became best friends for life!

izumi was the life of the party and brought happiness wherever she went. not only that, but she was incredibly polite and kind! it wasn’t everyday you met a girl that was full of life and always determined to overcome any obstacle in her path!

izumi would go through anything and everything for her friends despite how busy she was 24/7. she juggled being the mankai director (which was babysitting 20 boys), helping other acting troupes, and cooking at night but still made time to see you at least every week

you weren’t surprised when you were encouraged to come over for a company dinner one night and saw so. many. variations. of curry set up at the table. like the other boys, you attempted to hide your grimace (but very poorly, you weren’t a trained actor like the rest of the entourage was)

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” izumi’s motherly instincts kicked in as she hurried to put her hand against your forehead. you had to pretend like you were coming down with a cold the rest of the week and forced the curry down your throat

(the boys secretly gave you water under the table, whispering advice on how to bear it and grin as they made up fake situations to pass your chair)

(the high schoolers just looked relieved to not be the victim that night)

(seriously... so. many. variations.)

(every time you were invited to a meet–up, you texted the groupchat named “stop the currian” to see if izumi was making curry)

(she always was. you still ate it because you loved her too much to say no)

but other than curry, izumi loved cooking! she was subscribed to sooo many culinary and baking channels on youtube. she loved sending you links with a follow–up text that said: “wanna make this tonight? i know you want to eat it! ;)”

(you complained about how it always ended in a minor food fight you had to clean up. you still let her in when she knocked on your front door with bags of groceries)

(after so many visits, izumi was beginning to be proficient at other forms of culinary like baking since you enjoyed it so much)

one time, you even convinced izumi to make her own youtube channel. you had set up a camera omi loaned on a tripod, acting as the best cameraman ever of course

(you had a clapperboard that had the production titled, “izumi is replacing bon appétit’s claire” with take 1 freshly written)

“you got this, izumi!” you encouragedly put a fist in the air, “fighting!”

izumi nodded cutely, wearing her favorite striped shirt with a pastel pink apron. she held a automatic whisk in her right and was already posing with a mixing bowl in her left, ready to demonstrate how to make your favorite dessert

(maybe you suggested the idea because you wanted food, who knows?)

counting down vocally, you watched as your fingers dropped down to a zero and the red light on the camera started blinking. it was go time, and izumi immediately got into action

“hello, everyone! my name is tachibana izumi and today we will be making—”

the camera fell off the stand as izumi’s whisk flew out of her hand and smacked the lense directly in the middle. a sickening thud echoed through the apartment as you two stood in shock, staring at the expensive camera with unease. it didn’t look... uh... functional?

you quickly put your finger on your nose since it was an unspoken rule that touching your nose automatically meant opting out. you were a second earlier than izumi as she gasped like she was offended

“i am not telling omi!” izumi freaked out, running over but the damage was already done. the camera definitely didn’t turn on anymore

(you and izumi bought the same camera that day and switched the memory cards) (omi raised his eyebrows at the sudden newness of his trusty camera, but didn’t say anything as he just took it and thanked you for bringing it back safe)

(yeah... omi definitely knew. but, he wasn’t too bothered to say anything about it)

(“izumi? what did you spend so much money on last month?” sakyo reviewed her financial statement, watching as she nervously sweat and glanced at omi. he just shrugged like he had no idea)

so you two stuck to mindlessly watching the cooking channel on the tv. it was the usual weekend: becoming insecure over the unreal and extremely talented kid bakers who made a whole 3–tier cake in two hours, making fun of america’s worst chefs when they didn’t know how to cut a chicken, and yelling at cheating cooks who were way too competitive on chopped

it was better that way, anyways. maybe going viral on the internet wasn’t meant for everyone. you still got your dessert, much to your satisfaction

(“yeah, yeah. it’s only because you’re my best friend.” izumi laughed, shoving the plate with extra servings as you stuffed your face. she just fondly rolled her eyes as you tried saying thanks with your mouth full)

(“gross!” izumi squealed, throwing the kitchen mitts at you as you fought back, nearly hitting her with one of the pastries. you already know what happens next. izumi stopped baking for you for a long time [a month] as punishment)

speaking of baking, izumi loved making the most ridiculous cakes you’ve ever seen in your entire life

on random days, she’d make the most creative cupcakes ever with individual designs with meticulous attention to detail

(izumi always had to slap masumi’s hands away from the white box she’d set aside specifically for you. he’d pout, hurt, wondering why she didn’t make any food other than curry for him)

(“masumi... you really need to look at other girls.” you remembered advising him, sympathetically patting his back as he angrily accused you of being in love with izumi, too! to this day, it’s still awkward on your end when you see masumi and he thinks you’re his lifelong competitor)

but on important celebrations like your birthday and anniversaries, her cakes were... something. they’d be the most delicious things on earth, but the design would be comically ugly. she’d put the most bare minimum art ever and write the words way too big and it wouldn’t fit. there were always misspellings. maybe it was a curse for being so well–rounded?

another fun fact was you and izumi were the ultimate power duo! whenever you two went to hang out in public, you always made sure some creep wasn’t staring at her and she did the same for you all the time

as friends, it was your job to make sure you two were as safe and sound as possible

(one time, an absolute douchebag tried to wolf whistle her and izumi had to stop you from getting into a fight in broad daylight)

izumi was way too nice. she was such a selfless person and often acted like the big sister you never had. she was always ready with the most agreeable advice and showed up with her arms open. she was so giving, it was easy to see why everyone loved her

but you liked giving back, too! (much to her surprise) you even tried your hand at making some new form of curry by throwing in random spices and calling it a day, but you realized she was the most critical judge ever for any type of curry

(you stopped making curry for her. she would narrow her eyes and push her imaginary glasses up like an anime character. it was terrifying, she always appreciated it but... you shuddered, izumi was scary)

once, you even rented that curry truck to come by for her birthday! you never saw someone look like they were this close to passing out from maximum happiness

(you even bought a director’s chair for her with izumi bedazzled across the back)

(she now sits in it to get that extra confidence boost before a big show)

but the most important gift that kept on giving was spending quality time with izumi when she needed it most

when the anniversary of her father going missing came back around, you were the first person at her room. with curry you knew she liked from that really one obscure place and all the time that day to make sure she way okay

(she was such a big sister! izumi always claimed she was fine and it was just another normal day, but you were always there to provide comfort she didn’t even know she needed)

you took time out of your day to help her with all her mudane tasks after you saw she once physically fainted from tiredness

(it almost gave you a heart attack the first time, but then you noticed tsuzuru also did that too so it must’ve been something in the mankai dorm air)

you then became a well known figure in the theatre community as “izumi’s best friend”

(you were not upset with that title at all, in fact, you hoped it never changed)

who knew you’d meet your best friend forever at a grocery store? over curry nonetheless?

(yes, you’re izumi’s best friend, but it doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the spices rant)

#tachibana izumi #izumi tachibana #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #izumi x reader #a3! izumi #a3 izumi

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boxboysandotherwhump · 5 years ago

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Penny and Scamp chapter 3

875 newly named Scamp finally gets to reunite with his beloved other half when he and his Miss visit him in the hospital.

Thank you so much @finder-of-rings for proofreading this <3

The whole guard dog concept was developed by the amazing @moose-teeth

Also Karen Renford is one of many amazing characters created by the awesome @ashintheairlikesnow

Taglist: @eatyourdamnpears @whumpsblog (I hope I didn’t forget anyone)

CW: mention of arm amputation, mention of self-injury, Karen Renford mentioned, restrained to the bed

875 followed Miss Adelaide past the hospital's reception desk, still clad in black shorts and a white shirt. A shock collar sat tightly buckled around his neck.

It kind of felt like he was still wandering the facility halls except that the hospital bustled with life. Nurses scurried over the floor, talked to visitors waiting in plastic chairs or leaned against walls. People holding flowers knocked on white doors and followed patients around. He nearly expected a handler to step out from behind one of them and drag him back into his cell.

Glancing at his owner’s back, he reminded himself that he wasn’t a trainee anymore. He was someone’s pet now. An identity beyond number and barcode. His name was Scamp and he belonged to Miss Adelaide Tormadosa. Together with his beloved. Penny.

A befitting name for his love, with his wild copper curls and a smile that would never let Scamp forget how lucky he was to be alive. If only Penny himself had an ounce of the luck he brought him.

Instead he ended up in a hospital bed robbed of the last shred of bodily autonomy and his right arm.�� Taken away by a blizzard wrapped in human flesh. Karen Renford was a devilish force raging and tearing one's soul apart until she left nothing but a hollow ruin in her wake, held up solely by pillars made of barcode stripes and fear.

“Calm, now.” Miss Adelaide said and it was only then that Scamp realized how badly his hand shook on the hospital room's door handle. Concern had wormed itself deep into Scamp's brain, traveled down to his lungs and nested in his heart, made it difficult to breath, to form any thought beyond:

Please. God please let him be okay.

But God didn’t listen to boxboys or dogs, after all, prayers were reserved for people. And Scamp already knew that Penny was as far from okay as he’d ever been before, during even their harshest of training sessions.

Miss Adelaide explained what had happened as they drove from the facility directly to the hospital. She’d told him that Karen Renford had ordered the amputation of Penny’s arm after he’d poured boiling water over it during domestic training. Why he did that was anyone’s guess. That Renford's order to cripple a disobedient boxboy had nothing to do with medical necessity and everything with punishment, however, was obvious even to Scamp.

Bracing himself, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

Golden rays of dying evening sun filtered through grey blinds into the small room. It painted golden stripes onto perfectly whitened stiff hospital sheets and fell upon Penny’s waxen face, setting his hair afire. A bleeding halo fanning out over white pillows. Scamp need no god if divinity incarnate lay here before his very eyes.

Miss Adelaide waited in the doorway as he stumbled towards the bed, knees nearly giving out.

“Hey, hi. I am here. I am here now.”

Scamp's voice shook even more than his fingertips as he traced them over Penny’s cheek, caressed a tiny cluster of freckles right over his cheekbone and ghosted feather light touches over closed eyelids. Penny’s long red lashes tickled his fingers but remained closed. Dark shadows had settled under them. His breathing was slow, in sync with the steady beeping of the vital-signs-monitor as he lay motionless like a doll.

Scamp bit his lip in order to keep it from trembling and turned to his owner, desperate for her help.

“Why is he not waking up? Please Miss Adelaide. Please make him wake up.”

Something in her eyes softened as his voice broke and she nodded towards the reception desk with a smile. “I’ll go and get a nurse to come and check on him. You stay here.”

“Yes Miss.” Even though being separated from his owner made Scamp’s stomach churn with unease, he was determined to obey and put a hand on Penny’s shoulder in reassurance, for his other as much as for himself. Penny’s presence grounded him as his Miss vanished down the hall, closing the door behind her.

Scamp's eyes were back on his beloved as soon as it clicked shut. Wiping tears from his face with one hand he began to gently untangle soft curls with the other, careful not to pull or twinge.

The door opened right after he smoothed out the last tangle of unruly hair, and Miss Adelaide followed a portly short woman into the room. She carried a scanner in one deft hand and a tablet in the other. Silvery brown hair was held out of her wrinkly face by a loose bun and her blue eyes lit up with warmth as she spotted Scamp, who immediately tensed as she stepped closer to Penny’s bed.

“Scamp, behave.”

Miss Adelaide’s voice cut through the silent room sharp like a whip and made Scamp flinch like he’d been struck with one. A little whine escaped his lips while his eyes snapped from the nurse to his owner, who fixed him with an expression brooking no argument. Grinding his teeth, Scamp stepped back from the bed and let the nurse take his place. He watched with shaking fists as she put her equipment on the bedside table and pulled Penny’s blanket aside in practiced motions.

“Don’t worry,” she said, a knowing smile in her voice. “You’re friend’s gonna be fine. He’s just tired ‘n needs rest now.”

“What- How,” Scamp clenched and unclenched his fists. The urge to pull her away from Penny and the need to ensure that he was taken care of properly fought a war in his twitching muscles. Conditioned reflex collided with common sense. He swallowed his training down a sore throat and trusted in Miss Adelaide’s command to behave himself. “How do you know that?”

“Cause we have excellent staff,” the nurse said warmly.

The tablet lit up with the scanner's little beep and revealed Penny’s clinical data as the nurse scanned in his barcode. That was when Scamp saw it. A thick padded cuff was buckled around Penny’s fine boned wrist and fixed him to the bed frame. His other arm, or rather what remained of it had been wrapped in a thick blue cast barely reaching to his ribs. It looked unreal, wrong, as if a too tiny blue puppet limb had been attached to his body. Scamp vision swam at the thought of what was hidden underneath it.

Behave. Obey Miss Adelaide and behave! The nurse will not hurt him.

The pain in his palms where short sharp nails dug in grounded him enough to help him stay planted in his spot behind the nurse. He was a crossbow pulled tight and frozen in place at the cusp of tension.

Miss Adelaide stepped closer, peering onto the bed. “Why is he restrained?”

“Oh that silly boy.” Concern shadowed the nurse’s face as she tucked Penny back in and petted gently over his blanket. “He ripped the IV for his pain medication out of his arm. We had to restrain him ‘n double the dosage to get the pain back under control.”

Heat swirled in Scamp’s stomach, crashed through his insides in sickening and searing waves as he pushed the nurse aside. Wide tear bright eyes searched his beloved’s sleeping face while he leaned closer.

“Why?”

Shaking lips found a warm forehead and planted tiny kisses onto pale skin. Little seeds of love he prayed would sink down and take root in Penny’s heart.

“Why?”

“We don’ know, honey.” The nurse’s firm hand squeezed Scamp's shoulder and an understanding passed between them that stopped his impulse to throw her against a wall dead in its tracks. The heat clogged his throat now, a heavy clump of emotion he couldn’t swallow down.

Withdrawing her hand, the nurse reached for the roller clamp on Penny’s IV tube. “But I’m gonna lower his dosage a bit so he’ll come to soon.”

Miss Adelaide stepped aside as the nurse moved towards the door and nodded her appreciation. “Thank you. One question before you leave. How long will it take for him to wake? I don’t have-“

“Between 30 minutes and two hours.” The nurse turned at the door frame, a knowing twinkle in her eyes as she caught sight of Scamp's worried expression. “I’ll bring you both some tea while you wait.”

“I-,“ Miss Adelaide began but the other woman had already hurried down the hall. Scamp watched his owner anxiously plop down onto one of the room’s plastic chairs with a loud huff. She fished a phone out of her coat pocket and muttered, “Never argue with nurses.”

Scared he’d somehow angered her already, Scamp began to count the freckles on Penny’s face. There were 68, exactly. He had memorized them all, traced every single one in the countless hours they had been trapped together in a white room, but he was too afraid to meet his owner’s eyes so he counted them yet again for lack of anything else to calm his growing nerves.

The nurse returned with two steaming plastic cups as he reached freckle number twenty-five, on the bridge of Penny’s nose.

Miss Adelaide, in fact, did not look angry as she plugged the cup from the nurse’s hands. A bit bored maybe, but not angry. A breath escaped Scamp he didn’t know he had been holding and he dared to ask for her permission to take the offered tea from the nurse.

Miss Adelaide blessed him with one of her pleased smiles as he bowed in a perfect 90 degree angle and mumbled, “Please Miss Adelaide, may I take the cup and drink?”

“Good boy. You may.”

It was just as he lifted the cup to his smiling lips that a low rasp made him swirl around and spill some of the hot liquid over his hands. He couldn’t care less about his scalded skin though, not when Penny’s brown eyes blinked up at him and a lopsided smile played around his chapped lips.

“Oh wow. The drugs they’ve got here are truly something else.”

A pale trembling hand reached up from under the blankets as high as the restrains allowed, the smile on Penny’s face faltered. “Or are you really here?”

“I am.” Scamp took Penny’s hand in both of his. “I am here.” The kisses he pressed to Penny’s knuckles were wet with tears. “I am here. I am here.”

“Yeah.” Penny massaged gentle circles into Scamp's hands, unable to keep his trembling lips from smiling as he tried to lift his head from the pillows, straining closer to his love. His eyes were glazed with unshed tears and his warm voice shook as he teased. “Only the real you is such a crybaby.”

Scamp couldn’t help but snort, whole face lighting up.

“Well, look at that. One eye open and already cracking jokes.” Miss Adelaide had stood from her chair and stepped behind Scamp, one hand ruffling his black hair. “Your friend’s one tough cookie.”

“Yes.” Scamp puffed his chest out under the praise, beaming down at Penny with flushed cheeks. “I may be the muscle but he is the heart.”

Penny buried his bright red face into his pillow, unable to stop a smile from spreading over his face. “You sap.”

Neither him nor Scamp noticed Miss Adelaide’s mouth twist into a shark-tooth grin.

“I see.”

chapter2

chapter4

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