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chaoticyumelikes · 9 months

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Felt a bit nostalgic so...bear with me.

Warnings: religious themes, gore if you squint, swear words...

Alexander Anderson x Gn! reader

No one knows how you caught the priest's attention. But it was not unnoticed. And some people of the Church thought on ways this could... Control the righteous priest. Mask it as some sort of reward for his valiant efforts and achievements within the organization all the while gifting

... Well you... A very pretty leach so he could finally be fully obedient.

Father Anderson himself didn't flinch from his beliefs in the slightest so it took some time.

As for you, you continued happily unaware of the machinations that were happening in the shadows. You went to work or came back from it, waved hello and goodbye to the tall, intimidating yet sweet priest occasionally stopping to chat about several things.

Nothing could prepare you for receiving a letter demanding your presence at an Iscariot office. You didn't even consider yourself so close tied to the Church to make them even remember your name. You thought about not going. But something in you told you it was important. Maybe they wanted you to join their "club" along with several others. However, when you arrived at the location and the nice secretary told you to wait in a chair you realized the weirdness of the situation. You were alone in a very fancy waiting room adorned with fine paintings. You felt as if you had been called to a dean's office after having done something wrong. You tried to focus on the paintings but some of the imagery was of torment and that did nothing to calm your nerves. You knew you were as much a sinner and saint as the next normal person so why were you here? Were you to wait for divine punishment by God's authorities on Earth? You heard the door you came through open and the giant priest you know enters. You sweat bullets when you see him. In a way you were happy to see a familiar face, in another it looked like he was here to give you your last rites.

As he noticed you he froze, your eyes locked he gave you an awkward wave of his gloved hand and asked in that thick accent of his what you were doing there. He took a seat in front of you and you told him what had transpired till then. A brow rose at the story and his face turned pensive. You were just about to ask what he was thinking when you two are summoned to go in.

The priest opened the door for you with a smile and you entered. You were invited to take a seat while the priest remained standing behind you. Unbeknownst to you he gazed at you with pity, one of his hands reaching the inside of his coat till the person who summoned you both gave him a signal that left him even more confused. You weren't a threat? He wasn't there to take you out? He was glad he didn't have to but why else would the motive of this meeting?

Maxwell, the man who invited you and the priest spoke to you two. And it was purely absurd. The very thought of this section of the Church thought they could play matchmaker as if they held the same power over the people as they did in the Medieval times. You were to marry a freaking priest just because?! Father Alexander also protested against this vehemently. He was faithful to each one of his vows even if the organization "so generously" decided to open a few exceptions to him. In a way, it was strange seeing the ire and indignation in the priest as he spits Bible passage after passage at his supposed "boss". It was intimidating.

You both stormed out of that office with Maxwell sighing and speaking the words none of you heard: "The hard way it is"

Father Alexander apologized to you for what you had seen. He shouldn't have lost his temperament in front of one of the flock. You chuckled at the word flock and said it wasn't his fault. He offered to accompany you back home to keep you safe. A kind gesture to be sure. One you couldn't find any reason he should not to. Even tho he meant well and for your safety, the odd looks people gave one walking with a very tall priest... You were feeling very uncomfortable. Sensing that, the priest was kind enough to talk about anything to distract you from the walk and sure enough, once you got used to his thick accent, you enjoyed your time talking to him. He was a very intelligent individual albeit too dead set on his ways and fiercely loyal to his beliefs.

Arriving at your place you said your farewells with awkward smiles. He only turned his back on you once you had entered your home closing the door. You sighed. What a weird day. But that was that...

And naive you were to think that. Refusing an order from someone who had as many connections as Maxwell had put you in a corner. He dug out everything from you and everyone in your life that could be used against you. Even the smallest detail was made into a big issue until you finally caved.

It was a beautiful day. You managed to ask for a small "ceremony". It was in the same office that made your life turn upside down. You didn't invite anyone. You couldn't even believe it was happening. Some of the more religious members of your family were thrilled. Others supported your decision and should you try to fight against it you know the individual holding out papers for you and Alexander to sign would stop at nothing to silence them. Speaking of the priest, he was just as forlorn as you. Sure his expression was stoic but in his eyes, it was like a storm was brewing.

Night arrived with little to no celebration as you entered your husband's room. Just like you predicted it was a small and austere room. The few decorations were religious themed and there was one bed, a closet, a small cabinet the bible, some papers with strange symbols on them and... Were those weapons?

The priest followed your gaze and apologized. He tried to make the room presentable for you but he must've forgotten about those. When asked for explanations he simply said those weapons were for protection against monsters. He received a weird look from you but didn't offer any more information.

You two set next to each other on the bed where the priest explained that this whole situation wasn't his idea, fault or even ideal. You could and should take the bed as he would sleep on the floor. As you tried to protest he explained he didn't wish to force any of this madness onto you and that you both had a very tiring day and that you should rest. As he went to the restroom to give you privacy to change. Some of your things had been taken there and you made sure to be as fast as you could, go to bed and imagine all this was just a dream.

As you went to bed you watched as the priest had been in silent prayer. Deciding not to disturb him, you climbed the bed grimacing at how hard the mattress was but thankful for the priest's generosity nonetheless. You whisper him goodnight and hear him telling you to have sweet dreams as he adjusted himself on the floor.

About an hour passed till you couldn't take your conscience anymore.

"Father Anderson?" you asked.

"Alexander."

"What?"

"We are married, might as well address me by just my name, lamb"

Lamb? Did he just call you- Anyways forget that. You were on a mission.

"Alexander... You know... You don't have to sleep on the floor! We can share the bed. Platonically!"

There was an awkward silence between you. It was like the man was weighing his options.

"It would weigh less on my conscience if you slept in a bed rather than the floor." you offered. Silence once again.

"Oh come on Alexander how am I supposed to sleep knowing I drove a holy man out of his bed!"

At that, he laughed! So you decided to keep going. "Seriously?! How can you protect your flock if you don't have a proper night's sleep?!" he continued laughing. Once he finally stopped he sighed.

"Is it truly ok with you?"

You agreed.

"Very well. For your consciousness' sake."

You heard him get up and saw his shadow, you tried to look ok with the arrangement even though the man still intimidated you. You felt the bed shift with his weight. And you overestimated the bed's width as even with both of you on your sides your backs had to touch so you two could fit. You heard the man mumble something about needing to get a bigger bed first thing in the morrow. Saying your good night's again you drifted off to sleep lulled by the warmth his back was providing. You could've sworn you heard crying... But your sleep was simply too strong and you lost consciousness before you could discern if the sound was real or imagined.

The days between you two were challenging, adjusting to his routines and him to yours. Getting to know each other was also a challenge in itself so you two decided to spend some time together so you could make this strange arrangement more bearable. He practiced his sermons near you oftentimes asking your opinion. He always accompanied you to your work making sure you would be safe and every time he could he would also wait for you, accompanying you back "home". The organization was kind enough to offer you two a private apartment since other people of the order thought oh so very scandalous your married presence in their midst. One look from Alexander however was enough to shut some whispers as he was equal parts respected and equal parts feared.

You couldn't put your finger as to why exactly people feared him. Sure he was very tall, strong and had a scar on his face making him look intimidating but he has been nothing but gentle towards you. He tried his best to make you comfortable in every way he possibly could. He listened to your opinions offering you his own but never escalating into an argument. When his job required him to stay away from you for days at a time he would always bring you back something he wrote or made that made him think of you. Whenever he had work at the orphanage he would marvel at the kids' reaction to know you were his married partner. Secretly he would love the kids' happiness and rapid-fire questions at you. Were you to play with the kids and his smile would be ever radiant.

It was months into this arrangement that you began to notice weird things. Such as specks of what looked like blood on his skin. One time he came home extremely injured. You tried to get him to a Hospital and he just stopped you. He told you he was able to recover extremely fast. Not taking his word you fussed over the wound undressing him to look at the damage better and the amount of scars he had on his torso made you stop. He avoided your gaze suddenly far too shy under your scrutiny. Your eyes widened as you saw the wounds on his flesh heal in real time. You asked him what had happened. How did he get so many scars? How could he recover from wounds that fast? He only offered you a begging look while taking your ringed hand in his and promised that after the next mission, he had he would tell you about his... Other job.

A million questions swirling in your head but knowing he wouldn't answer them till he came back were haunting you. You thought so much about what could it all mean that you didn't see you were being followed. Suddenly all you saw was darkness and the feeling of someone taking you away.

When you came to you noticed you were bound and someone was talking. In your daze you could only make out the words:

"married" "to that priest" you heard laughter, you heard something that sounded like crude jokes and finally "hostage". When you finally were aware one of the men approached you, seemingly happy to see you awake. He forcefully grabbed your face as if he was inspecting you, turning it this way and suddenly stopping. Looking hungrily at your neck, your eyes widening as his canines showed. Fortunately for you, they needed you still and he backed off once one of the others barked at him to stay away. He shrugged saying something about still having leftovers and at that he left, you heard a scream and a sound like something was breaking flesh. You were at full attention now. These people weren't human! What could they want from you?

"Are you sure this is the right person?" one of them said "They are far too pretty for a man of the robe. Tell me. Does he use you all the time? I mean, that celibacy shit must break a man." he caressed your cheek and you flinched away in disgust "aw what's the matter? Not holy enough for you?" he grabbed your arm and as he was pulling you towards him something sharp struck his arm. Your eyes widened as you recognized the weapon.

At the entrance of the building, there was a silhouette of a tall man, his glasses reflecting the light. Your eyes widened in recognition as he began reciting passages of the Bible in his characteristic accent. His hands grasped his weapons as he walked towards his opponents without fear. The men rushed towards him while Alexander, with a final "Amen" mercilessly cut them through. In the carnage you closed your eyes shut only daring to open when you felt a violent hand grabbing your neck only to be swiftly detached from its arm, hand falling to the floor as Alexander charged to the offender offing him quickly. You trembled as you heard the huffs of the priest from the exertion. Quickly you heard him get to his feet and run towards you in a panic.

"Lamb are you alright?! Did they hurt you?!" his eyes darted at you frantically searching for any sign of pain or discomfort freeing you from the ropes. You were so pale he kept fussing over you till he cupped your cheeks with his gloved bloodied hands. "Lamb please! Speak to me!" you looked at him, at the carnage behind him and the spatter of blood on his face and glasses and you quickly jerk your head down as you puke. Alexander stays there motionless as he just stares as you empty your bowels. He can feel it on his robes and shoes but he couldn't care less far too worried about your wellbeing. Medics from the organization entered the room and he barked orders at them to check you for any injuries. Some tried to push him away but he refused to budge from your side. Once you calmed down and the medics made sure you were unharmed he carried you away in his arms. You were far too weak to protest and he was far too afraid to leave your side again. Once you two were in your shared room and cleaned up he lay you down on the bed as he kneeled by your side taking your hand in his placing it in his forehead as if he was still making sure you were there.

"You scared me. When I came home and didn't see ya. When they told me you were taken-" you saw tears running down his face "if they had so much as hurt you. I would- May those fuckers rot in Hell! God--" he squeezed your hand "I can't lose your lamb. Please..."

With your free hand, you wiped away his tears and pulled him to you, his head resting on your chest as he hugged you desperately. You two held each other that night. He enveloped you out of fear of losing you again. That moment you understood what he meant by monsters and why even some people feared him. Today you would let him rest but tomorrow he would fulfil his promise and tell you all about his so-called "other job".

And true to his word he spent the day telling you all about it. He wouldn't leave your side after that. The trauma of almost losing you is too fresh in his mind. You were grateful for his company. Still, you couldn't believe all he had told you but it made you understand him a lot better. When finally he couldn't refuse missions anymore you clung to him and made him promise to return to you. He did promise... But it still didn't ease your worries.

He made sure to leave someone to watch out for you should any monster try anything again. Not that they would anytime soon considering how much of an example he made of your captors. But still.

You prayed for his wellbeing every day and when he returned you tackled him in a hug. He chuckled at your reaction telling you to be careful cause his robes were usually home for many of his sharp weapons. You bombarded him with questions, not about the mission, but about his wellbeing.

He chuckled at your concerns.

"Worried about your husband, lamb?"

You looked at him defiantly and he smiled widely. "There's my fierce little lamb." at this, you pouted and grabbed him by the collar pulling him down to your size and you kissed him. The priest was stunned at your reaction. Gingerly wrapping his arms around you ever careful to gauge your reaction. Once he made sure you were ok with this he reciprocated your affection with an intensity of his own. When you part your foreheads touch as you both regain your breath.

That evening he finally showed you just how meaningful you were to him. Always gently, always with your consent, he explored you as if you were a precious gift just for him from the Heavens above. Praising you, adoring and worshipping every part of you as much as you do him. Making sure you were alright every step of the way until you both lost yourselves blissfully in each other. Resting in each other's arms basking in the pleasurable afterglow of your finally consummated marriage.

Both of you didn't know what the future would bring. Both of you were afraid of losing the other to the darkness. Fortunately for you, he was a man of light. He would tear darkness apart and bring you to his safety, making sure both of you remain on the righteous path... Amen.

#gn!reader #hellsing #alexander anderson #Alexander anderson x reader #father alexander anderson

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babyrdie · 28 days

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Paris and Vanity

[This is an extensive text of my opinion about the character of Paris. These are just opinions, not some super deep analysis! ALSO: I think it's interesting to mention that I use English editions because the post is in English, but I didn't read these editions in full, just the excerpts I wanted. I read editions in another language. So I'm not saying that I recommend any of these editions!!]

I find it interesting how the characteristic of Paris being vain makes perfect sense with his myths, regardless of the version (in this case, the Greek myths. I haven't read his Roman ones yet). Characters in Greek mythology tend to change their essence a lot depending on the version (I think one of the most obvious example is Menelaus), but Paris in his constant vanity always made sense to me.

The best-known version of the birth myth of Paris is the one in which Hecuba dreams that she will give birth to the one who will destroy Troy and, because of this, Paris is left to die on Mount Ida. But he is saved by Agelaus and grows up as a shepherd, unaware that he has Trojan royal blood.

Growing up as a shepherd, Paris did not have the status or wealth of royal lineage as his sibilings did. He was strong, but it's not like he had such grandiose adventures that would be enough to give him glory and fame. But there was something he undeniably had: beauty. Among Priam's children, Paris stands out for being very beautiful and, even when he thought he was a plebeian, this was already notable in him. At a time when he didn't have the power, the fame or the wealth, Paris had the beauty. I'm not surprised he became attached to his vanity. That was something of his, and it never stopped being his even when he wasn't a prince.

[3.12.5][...]The first son born to her was Hector; and when a second babe was about to be born Hecuba dreamed she had brought forth a firebrand, and that the fire spread over the whole city and burned it.227 When Priam learned of the dream from Hecuba, he sent for his son Aesacus, for he was an interpreter of dreams, having been taught by his mother's father Merops. He declared that the child was begotten to be the ruin of his country and advised that the babe should be exposed. When the babe was born Priam gave it to a servant to take and expose on Ida; now the servant was named Agelaus. Exposed by him, the infant was nursed for five days by a bear; and, when he found it safe, he took it up, carried it away, brought it up as his own son on his farm, and named him Paris. When he grew to be a young man, Paris excelled many in beauty and strength, and was afterwards surnamed Alexander, because he repelled robbers and defended the flocks.228 And not long afterwards he discovered his parents.

(The Library. Translation by James George Frazer)

Then once he was called to be a jury in the dispute between Athena, Hera and Aphrodite to decide which of the goddesses was the most beautiful. Each of them, in an attempt to gain his favor, offered him a different reward if she was chosen. He chooses Aphrodite and, as a reward, Paris has the most beautiful woman in the world: Helen of Sparta, already married to Menelaus.

[E.3.2] For one of these reasons Strife threw an apple as a prize of beauty to be contended for by Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite; and Zeus commanded Hermes to lead them to Alexander on Ida in order to be judged by him. And they promised to give Alexander gifts. Hera said that if she were preferred to all women, she would give him the kingdom over all men; and Athena promised victory in war, and Aphrodite the hand of Helen. And he decided in favour of Aphrodite51; and sailed away to Sparta with ships built by Phereclus.52

(The Library. Translation by James George Frazer)

I often joke about how Paris's choice is really dumb to me because I would never choose the most beautiful woman over Athena and Hera's other much more interesting gifts, but I actually think it makes sense. A woman so beautiful that she's desired by everyone, that she is known for it, that she elevates her husband's status just by being with her? I think Paris chose Helen over the other options because she had a different status, much more than choosing her because he was out of simple lust. There are different wealth and achievements out there, but he couldn't specifically have the most beautiful woman in the world if he didn't choose her now as she was already married. And since he's already so aware of his beauty, I wouldn't be shocked if Paris felt entitled to the most beautiful woman because he's so handsome. And then discovering that she has the divine blood of Zeus? Helen represented even higher status.

Even in The Odyssey, Proteus makes it seem like the main reason Menelaus is destined to go to Elysium is that he's Helen's husband and consequently this makes him Zeus's son-in-law. Of all the things he could say to Menelaus, the one he chooses to use to assure him that he will have Elysium is his marriage. Helen, as a wife, actually elevated Menelaus' status in a way beyond just marrying her putting him into the lineage of Sparta (which was already a big deal). She elevated him to the point of guaranteeing a good afterlife for him, at least in the Homeric tradition — this, of course, is not a fixed tradition in the myths because almost nothing is; Helen is not always married to Menelaus in Elysium, Pausanias even offers a version in which she is married to Achilles.

So I spoke, and he in turn spoke up and made answer: “That was Odysseus son of Laertes, who makes his home in Ithaka, whom I saw on an island, weeping big tears in the palace of the nymph Kalypso, and she detains him by constraint, and he cannot make his way to his country, for he has not any ships by him, nor any companions who can convey him back across the sea's wide ridges. But for you, Menelaos, O fostered of Zeus, it is not the gods' will that you shall die and go to your end in horse-pasturing Argos, but the immortals will convoy you to the Elysian Field, and the limits of the earth, where fair-haired Rhadamanthys is, and where there is made the easiest life for mortals, for there is no snow, nor much winter there, nor is there ever rain, but always the stream of the Ocean sends up breezes of the West Wind blowing briskly for the refreshment of mortals. This, because Helen is yours and you are son-in-law therefore to Zeus.”

(The Odyssey. IV, 554-571. Translation by Richmond Lattimore)

In The Iliad, unlike what usually happens, Paris has his consort status tied to Helen instead of her having her consort status tied to him. He who is "fair-hatred Helen's consort". It's she who gives status to Paris, and not the other way around.

Hesiod, for example, generally puts the active role in the masculine character. It's the husband who takes a wife, it's the man who takes a woman in his bed. But he doesn't seem to do this with Helen. In the fragments we have from the "Catalogue of Women", where Hesiod describes a lot of female characters from Greek mythology, it's the male suitors who want to be something for Helen. It's Helen who has the choice of choosing who she will take — when, in the myth of the Oath of Tyndareus, Helen chooses Menelaus, he is the one being given the honor of being her husband.

FRAGMENT 6838 - SUITORS OF HELEN (translation by Evelyn-White, H G.)

Berlin Papyri, No. 9739:

(ll. 31-33) to horse-taming Castor and prize-winning Polydeuces, desiring to be the husband of rich-haired Helen, though he had never seen her beauty, but because he heard the report of others.

(ll. 34-42) And from Phylace two men of exceeding worth sought her to wife, Podarces son of Iphiclus, Phylacus' son, and Actor's noble son, overbearing Protesilaus. Both of them kept sending messages to Lacedaemon, to the house of wise Tyndareus, Oebalus' son, and they offered many bridal-gifts, for great was the girl's renown, brazen . . . golden ((lacuna)) . . . (desiring) to be the husband of rich-haired Helen.

Berlin Papyri, No. 10560:

(ll. 52-54) . . . sought her to wife. And after golden-haired Menelaus he offered the greatest gifts of all the suitors, and very much he desired in his heart to be the husband of Argive Helen with the rich hair.

(ll. 63-66) But from Euboea Elephenor, leader of men, the son of Chalcodon, prince of the bold Abantes, sought her to wife. And he offered very many gifts, and greatly he desired in his heart to be the husband of rich-haired Helen.

Having talked about how Helen for me was more a choice of status than of desire, let's return to another aspect of Paris's vanity. Agamemnon contemptuously mentions how pompous Paris was on his visit to Sparta.

"[...]Then there came to Lacedaemon from the Phrygians the man who, Argive legend says, judged the goddesses' dispute; in robes of gorgeous hue, ablaze with gold, in true barbaric pomp; and he, finding Menelaus gone from home, carried Helen off, in mutual desire, to his steading on Ida.[...]"

Iphigenia in Aulis. Translation by E. P. Coleridge.

Considering that this happens in Iphigenia in Aulis, the same play in which Iphigenia even says "and it is right, mother, that Hellenes should rule barbarians, but not barbarians Hellenes, those being slaves, while these are free", this could just be a stereotypical and xenophobic portrayal of the Trojans. Or Agamemnon could be exaggerating, after all he has more than enough reasons to want to throttle Paris. But, in this specific case, I think that's really how it is. Having spent years as a shepherd and then suddenly returning to being a prince, Paris would certainly show off his wealth much more than the other Trojan princes and princesses. This is because others were used to wealth and status, they had it since birth. Paris, however? This was all very new to him, and he was going to overdo it to the fullest.

As to how Helen was taken, sources seem to disagree. Homer seems to be going the way she was kidnapped and didn't want to go, judging by Helen's behavior towards the war, Paris and Aphrodite. Some versions place the Helen who was in Troy as not even being the real Helen (such as the play Helen, by Euripides). Some versions seem to reaffirm that she went because she wanted to, like Iphigenia in Aulis. Others are too ambiguous to know who to trust, as is the case with The Trojan Women. Etc etc.

Here I will be taking an excerpt from The Trojan Women. Helen tries to defend herself to Hecuba and Menelaus because Menelaus is convinced to punish Helen, while Hecuba is convinced to try to get her punished, as she sees her as one of the reasons for her misfortune. With each explanation that Helen gives for being innocent, Hecuba finds a way to counter it in a way that would be convincing enough for Menelaus to take seriously.

Faced with Helen's argument that she was taken by force with the help of Aphrodite, who gave her as a prize to Paris, Hecuba says:

"[…]You won’t persuade people with sense. You say Cypris —that’s a laugh—came to Menelaus’ house with my son. As if she could not have stayed peacefully in heaven and brought you and Paris, Sparta, Amyclai and all, to Troy? My son was preternaturally handsome and your mind, on catching a glimpse of him, was turned into Cypris. All that mortals lust for becomes Aphrodite to them. Even the goddess’ name has come to suggest immodest desire. When you saw him in his exotic foreign attire shining with gold, you went mad with lust. You had little luxury in Argos where you lived, but once rid of Sparta you hoped to overwhelm the city of the Phrygians flowing with gold with your sense of style. The palace of Menelaus was too puny for your extravagance to run rampant […]"

(The Trojan Women. Translation by Cecelia Luschnig)

Paris' expensive clothes are mentioned again, this time by Hecuba (considering that Agamemnon's previous speech is from a play by Euripides and that this play is also by Euripides, this similarity makes sense). And also, once again his beauty is reinforced. Right after Hecuba gives reasons why Hera and Athena's beauty dispute is an absurd idea (the reasons: Hera is married to Zeus, Athena is a virgin goddess), she gives explanations why it doesn't make sense for Aphrodite to help kidnap Helen. One of the reasons is that Aphrodite could simply make her appear in Troy, the other is that Paris was immensely beautiful, well dressed and something new in Helen's boring life and that's why he was seductive.

I got the impression that, although Euripides leaves it open-ended as to what happened, he was trying very hard to frame Helen as being guilty as well. However, regardless of whether she was kidnapped as she says or not as Menelaus and Hecuba think, the point is that Paris here is once again characterized as a portrait of opulence and beauty. More than that, here his characteristic as "exotic interest that seduces a married woman out of her life" is made even more evident than in Iphigenia in Aulis. Paris being the typical character archetype of a person from a foreign land, with immense beauty, seductive personality and exotic air is something common for his character. It's not like only Euripides imagined him like that.

In The Iliad, other characters constantly highlight Paris' vanity as a flaw. Hector mainly, but not only. For example, Diomedes uses this as immediate offense after being hit by an arrow from Paris. And throughout the Iliad, we see how Paris has a chance to give up Helen and end the war, but doesn't. He was too proud to give up what Helen meant in the first diplomatic contact between Achaeans and Trojans years ago, and after ten years he is even more immutable in his opinion.

It's been ten years, why give up now? Menelaus surpasses Paris in status, being a king while he is a prince, and in power, being stronger than him and having almost defeated him if not for Aphrodite's intervention. Menelaus may not be the favorite of a specific god, as is the case with Hector with Apollo or Odysseus with Athena, but he also receives divine help. The only "thing" Paris now has that Menelaus doesn't is Helen, and he won't give it up.

So Paris's vanity being something consistent is something that makes so much sense! Paris grew up as a plebeian with the distinguishing characteristic of being very handsome will be very aware of this. Consequently, he sees in beauty something that he has more than other people. Being so different, he is entitled to have more. When the goddesses offer him 3 reward options, the status Helen offers is seductive to him. Beginning to rise in status with Aphrodite's favor and his return to Trojan royalty, Paris is fascinated by wealth and status, so he acts like a peacock. As a prince, he is still concerned about always maintaining his beauty, as this is the only characteristic that has been with him his entire life and the one he trusted most. When Troy is threatened by his actions, Paris refuses to give in because he is too proud to give up what Helen means.

#Paris of Troy #birdie.txt #Helen of Sparta #Helen of Troy #birdiethings #I don't think I've ever commented about Paris here so I wrote this #I honestly would rather be talking to someone about this than writing texts on my Tumblr #But I've had the great fortune that absolutely none of my friends are interested in mythology lol #I was going to write this in Portuguese but I decided to use it as practice for reading in English #just the excerpts I wanted. I read it completely in another language.

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ystrike1 · 1 year

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Why Ophelia Couldn't Leave - By Samoh (9.5/10)

A woman worthy of obsession. Lots of stories about obsession are missing this key element. Our heroine is damaged by unforgivable crimes and an unbearable codependent relationship, but she remains a sympathetic character. The romance itself is morally grey from start to finish, but it is well deserved. Ophelia does deserve to be happy. The man she loves believes that too.

Isolde.

The social butterfly. A beauty that loses interest easily. She vanishes with the wind. Somehow, she keeps marrying upward. Her husbands keep dying, but men keep flocking to her.

Isolde has one child. Ophelia, who was borne with her first dead husband. Isolde is a greedy woman who cares nothing for love. She just wants more. Isolde was born the daughter of a farmer. Her father tried to sell her to an old landlord for cash. Isolde learned how to process plants into poison, and her story began. When her first husband died she got sympathy. Some invitations. Then another, richer husband. That wasn't enough. Isolde is all desire and no emotion. Ophelia is terrified of her, but she loves her mother because she has no one else. Her mother isolated her and used her as a tool to assist in the poison murders. Ophelia is excellent at burning evidence, because she is a mage. She's untrained, but she has a massive amount of magic. When she uses it it's dangerous, and it can injure her. Isolde obviously never cared. Having a convenient daughter helped her get more money. That was all that ever mattered to her.

Ophelia can't accept that.

Then, she meets Baroness Blanche. Blanche is a lovely woman. The only real and normal mother Ophelia ever had. Isolde wanted to marry her husband. Her husband did not love her. It was a political marriage. So when Blanche fell ill he didn't care. Blanche and Isolde were "best friends". Blanche trusted them and smiled for her until the end, where she died of sepsis.

Then, Ophelia tries to turn against her mother. Blanche was not a horny idiot undeserving of pity. She was a good person who did nothing wrong. Ophelia confronts her murderous mother, and tells her the next marriage has to be her last.

Isolde meets a Duke. Their controversial marriage is fiery, but it takes a very short amount of time for Isolde to grow bored of the Duke. Isolde is getting sloppy. Cruel. She's starting to enjoy the murder too much. Isolde even tries to kill the Dukes son, Alexander, with poisoned medicine when he gets the flu.

It's the final straw.

Ophelia has a crush on Alexander. Her brother through her fourth stepfather. She has had enough. She loves her mother so much, but she also knows Isolde is a monster. A monster who only keeps her alive because of her useful magic.

Ophelia uses her magic to plant an invisible bomb in Isolde's honeymoon carriage, and it's over. She intends to leave the mansion and repent in the holy land forever. The Duke's family slaps her around because they want power, and Ophelia is just an adopted daughter...but Alexander protects her.

He stops her and says he needs her. She is an adult. He needs three years of her time. After he is of age his family will have no claim over his wealth. It's a reasonable request, and Ophelia has nowhere to go. She stays.

A maid named Henrietta is madly in love with Alexander. She is from a fallen noble family and she has magic. She is so obsessed that she messed with the wheels on the honeymoon carriage, to kill Isolde. In order to get rid of Ophelia. Everyone with eyes knows that Alexander is in love with Ophelia. He instinctively follows her around the mansion. Henrietta gave up her chance to go to private magic school because she wanted to stay close to Alexander. She has even tried to seduce him in a nightgown multiple times. She can't take a hint.

Ophelia says Henrietta can have him after the three years are up. Henrietta is too jealous though. She can't bear to watch Alexander fawn over Ophelia, so the drama gets crazy.

Years pass. Ophelia is an insane beauty. She has completely dominated Henrietta. Alexander is still trying to seduce her, but her heart is closed. She is only helping him because she feels terrible about killing his father. It was the only way to get rid of her mother for sure, and she was also blinded by rage. She knows she owes Alexander, so she remains the adult guardian of the household.

Alexander is 19, and very close to being a real force in the political world.

He always reads books about children killing their parents. He knows Ophelia killed his dad. He doesn't know why, but he's too crazy to care. He doesn't care about anything but Ophelia. He uses Henrietta like a rag, even though he knows she loves him and gave up her future for him. When Henrietta dies he straight up doesn't give a shit. Henrietta tells him she messed with the carriage to get his attention, but he knows she's not the culprit.

He ignores her until the bitter end.

Who killed Henrietta?

This guy. He's in investigator from the Imperial Family, who has proof that the deadly crash was no accident. Wait! No he isn't. He's a fraud. Cain is the son of Isolde's second husband. He was abandoned by his mother, but his father Cameron came for him. His father gave him love and money. Cameron was saved from orphanage life. Then, Cameron married a beauty. This is where we learn the truth. Isolde was a great actress, but she deserves no pity. Cameron loved his illegitimate son. He searched for the boy even after the woman he slept with abandoned him. Isolde poisoned Cameron, and she banished Cain from his own home. Cain had to play hide and seek in his own home after Isolde got it in the will. Cameron cursed Isolde as he died, because his beloved had...for some awful reason...chosen to cast out his very young son. Cain grew up on the streets. He played with Ophelia in secret for a while, before Isolde chased him away for good. Cain wants Ophelia to suffer, because she's rich and happy with a Duke. He had to live on the streets after he watched his father die. That is pretty unfair. When he strangles Ophelia in her bed she burns half of his face off, and they fight.

Ophelia wants closure. She's sorry for what she did for her mother. None of it was worth it. She wants to kill Cain with her own hands. He's a pretty scummy criminal with a sad past, who was definitely going to torture her. The boy she met is gone. When he's on the ground Alexander stops her....so he can do the deed. He noticed that Cain seemed attached to Ophelia. He's been waiting for a chance to kill the annoying pest.

Also. He doesn't want Ophelia to use magic. He wants to blame all of the crimes on Henrietta. For that to happen Ophelia has to continue pretending that she isn't a mage. Ophelia sort of wants that too. She has raw power, but she's not super skilled with it and it's connected with all of her trauma.

She confesses that she fell for her mother's angelic lie. She doesn't know if she'll ever accept the fact that her mother definitely saw her as a tool. Killing her was the right choice, but the Duke dying by her side was tragic.

Alexander admits he will not change. He didn’t know that his love was love at first, because it was so abnormal. Ophelia has the ability to charm, like her mother. Alexander is extra jealous because he knows other mad men will lust over Ophelia in the future. He thanks her for saving his life (remember, Isolde was going to poison him.) He even tries to empathize. He recognizes that Blanche was her real mother, and the reason why she became a better person. He respects her and loves her.

They live happily ever after and Alexander probably kills a bunch of her admirers in the future.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Why Ophelia Couldn't Leave

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stockpilelena · 1 month

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Day 52 Lena Challenge

First go at the 'Magician King' Motem, though this would be his younger appearance as he usually looks like an elderly man.

Originally, the concept was that a journal from long ago documented the personal details and accounts of the Magician King and the Crimson Knight Kion, and the main party discovers these pages as they travel the world. I don't think it'll work out the way I have it planned as it is now, but one way or another, their story was intended to be uncovered piece by piece as the main characters gain more knowledge and experience travelling the world.

Shortly after, the Magi colluded together to call forth the Withering Calamity, an event marked down in Alexandria's history as the day of the Shadow. Firsthand accounts and documentation are hazy and irregular at best, but those who survived it described it as a place where darkness crept from the ground and sprouted from all living things, the sockets and joints of animals seemed to leak living liquid that trembled and grew into each other, weaving and twisting, growing larger and darker, sinking its host deeper into an abyss that seemed to absorb all sense of life. A vast silence, an unearthly stillness, an emptiness beyond understanding, like whatever once existed would be forgotten and just a touch of it would consume all sense of yourself. The land, the plants, the stones, even the air felt like it was being pulled into this darkness, gnawing at itself and everything around it, drawing in the world and devouring its existence. A great sense of hopelessness and despair came upon those who dared witness it and live.

According to the scholars of Alexandria, the fiercest crusader employed by King Alexander himself was known as Kion. She was a magnificent warrior and beloved by her people for both her mighty strength imbued with the Divinity of Flame and her unyielding compassion for the weak and innocent. She was also part of the founding members of the First Flame chapter, the original soldiers trained and dedicated to eradicating the Magi threat. She performed her duties diligently until the rise of the Magician King, a beastly elderly man who somehow managed to gain control of his devilish powers and wield them like a monster unlike any Magi before him. Worse yet, Magi flocked to him seeking refuge and brotherhood, and instead of terminating each other, under the leadership of the Magician King, they were not just surviving, but growing stronger. Kion hunted him down and finally was able to confront him, but a poison stronger than any blade and that no antidote can cure crippled the Crimson Knight before this Magi as she had become deeply infatuated with him, turning against the chapter, defeating them and fleeing alongside the Magician King as a traitor.

Yet the great King Alexander used the last of his strength to personally stop the Withering Calamity before it could consume everything and bottled the Magi's strength within it, trapping the all consuming Calamity to infinitely devour the Magi's endless source of power. This seal was called the Hallowed Graces, physically locking away the Calamity, but leaving behind a massive crater in its place. Though the King was mighty, the cost was too great a strain on him, and he could no longer stay in the living realm, finally passing on and ending the era of the First King. The day of the Shadow both marks the survival of Alexandria and the passing of their founder.

While Magi no longer exist at full strength, their kin and bloodline continue to persevere as a diluted form known as Magicians, though thanks to the efforts left behind by the First Flame, have never grown in such power and strength as they did before the Calamity. While official details are muddled around the actual event, the fear of the Magi power became enshrined through all the living realm and rejection of Magician kind continued to propagate throughout time and history.

What is the truth behind the Crimson Knight, the Magician King and the Withering Calamity? Their personal journal may be the only real clue to what really happened all those years ago.

#lena challenge #sketch #dco #divinity crown origin #phone art

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eclecticcheesecakewhispers · 6 months

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🛑 Russian writer Alexander Bukhanov: When an infidel burns the Qur’an, the entire Islamic nation becomes angry, and then the infidel is imprisoned or stoned.

As for Gaza, it is a huge, burning Qur’an, pierced by Israeli bombs and missiles, and Surah after Surah, verse after verse, is destroyed before the eyes of all humanity. Humanity is powerless to prevent the desecration of the sanctities, and the ashes of the Qur’an fall on the heads of all nations, and all of humanity flocked to witness the execution of Gaza. Stained with Palestinian blood.

🛑 الكاتب الروسي الكسندر بوخانوف: عندما يحرق كافر القرآن، تغضب الأمة الإسلامية بأكملها، ثم يُسجن الكافر أو يُرجم

اما غزة عبارة عن قرآن ضخم محترق، تُثقب فيه القنابل والصواريخ الإسرائيلية، وتُدمر سورة بعد سورة، وآية بعد آية أمام أعين البشرية جمعاء إن الإنسانية عاجزة عن منع تدنيس المقدسات، ورماد القرآن يتساقط على رؤوس جميع الأمم، وتوافدت البشرية جمعاء لمشاهدة إعدام غزة، وقد لطخت بالدم الفلسطيني.

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alexander-flocke · 1 year

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... mit Erlaubnis des Landesvorstandes der SPD strebt Franziska Giffey in Berlin eine Koalition mit der CDU an und würde vorbehaltlich der Zustimmung der Parteibasis so den Wahlgewinner Wegner zu ihrem Nachfolger im Roten Rathaus machen und sich selbst zur Senatorin - das gabs noch nie ...

#alexander flocke #franziska giffey #spd

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scotianostra · 27 days

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On April 4th 1617 John Napier, the mathematician, died.

I hated maths with a vengeance at school, I'm not talking about counting, I can hold my own with that, but real maths. algebra, geometry, topology and worst of all logarithms, which we have Robert Napier to "thank" for, he introduced them in the early 17th century as a means to simplify calculations, aye right!

If John Napier had been born a common man he would maybe have been burnt at the stake, nothing to do with him and his maths nonsense but because he dabbled in the occult at a time when we were routinely setting such people on fire!

James VI was on the throne and his obsession with devilry consigned hundreds of unfortunates to the flames. Unless you were born of a noble family of course. A wee bit background on the Napier's his father was Sir Archibald Napier of Merchiston Castle, and his mother was Janet Bothwell, daughter of the politician and judge Francis Bothwell, Lord of Session, and a sister of Adam Bothwell who became the Bishop of Orkney. Archibald Napier was 16 years old when John Napier was born. John, as was the common practice for members of the nobility at that time, he was privately tutored and did not have formal education until he was 13, when he was sent to St Salvator's College, St Andrews. He dropped out of Uni and toured Europe for a time before returning to Scotland aged 21.

Back to his links with sorcery, several members of John Napier’s family – respected and wealthy participants of Edinburgh society - were commonly known to be wizards or sorcerers. Their necromantic power was feared by nobles as well as peasants from far and wide.

The family wizardry started with Napier's father, Sir Archibald, seventh Laird of Merchiston, who successfully predicted when Mary, then the former Queen of Scotland, would leave Lochleven Castle, where she was imprisoned. The story goes: "Claude Nan, the Queen's secretary, wrote that 'the Laird of Markyston (Sir Archibald), who had the reputation of being a great wizard, made bets with several persons to the amount of five hundred crowns, that by the 5th of May Her Majesty would be out of Lochleven." Mary escaped on 2 May 1568 – and the senior Napier was presumably wealthier for his prediction.

Sir Archibald married Janet Bothwell, sister of Adam, Bishop of Orkney, who the paper said was "a notorious necromancer", so that their son, the future mathematician, inherited "a double inclination towards the magic arts". This might explain some of John's odd behaviour. A necromancer is a wizard or magician by the way, I had to google it!

Tenants who lived on the vast Merchiston estate south-west of Edinburgh thought John to be a bit mysterious at times, Napier would be seen many evenings wearing a long gown, pacing outside his tower chamber, a private work area where he often would pass many long hours alone.

Many people thought that his pet black cockerel was a familiar – a supernatural being which assisted witches and wizards in their magical practice. However, the Napier family held the hereditary role of King’s Poulterer and Napier may have kept the cockerel on a whim but I have read he travelled not only with the bird but also with a black spider in a small box, not normal behaviour.

The Scottish writer and translator Sir Thomas Urquhart, who, told of a demonstration of devastating artillery Napier devised against the threat of invasion by Spain.

"He gave proof upon a large plaine in Scotland to the destruction of a great many herds of cattel and flocks of sheep, whereof some were distant from other half a mile on all sides and some a whole mile,"

A well as being a wizard and mathematician Napier was also a fervent Protestant, much of his writing is vehemently anti-Catholic even by the standards of the time. He was a man of contradictions though, as he is said to have had friends who were Catholic, including Alexander Seton, the Earl of Dunfermline, although the vast majority Catholics back then had to hide their faith.

The last interesting, and worrying, fact I found out about John Napier is that his cause of death according to wiki he died "from the effects of gout" at home in Merchiston tower, now I suffer from gout and it is bloody painful but I didn't know it could kill you!

#scotland #scottish #history #edinburgh #nobility #mathematics

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ratcatcher0325 · 11 months

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A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #29)

Chapter #29. Alexander tells his story. Natalie listens with rapt attention. Alexander does not mind this. Not one bit.

Previous: Chapter #28

Next: Chapter #30

Word Count: 7,629 Read Time: Approx. 59 mins

CW: adult language, angst, allusions to medical abuse

Tag list: @gatlily @patrocolus3 @beautifulunknowntrash @titan-god-420 @andraimeide @themarlo @cup-o-chai @lucentbliss @raccoontoaster @tolsizedlove @not-a-space-alien , @thegodmother007 , @honey-olive , @bittykimmy13 , @aceouttatime , @imvenusasaboy , @liminaldaze , @windshield-patent , @joxter-coded , @rosella35 , @narrans , @rubeau-art , @littlescaryinternetguy , @jae-from-discord , @kitn-underfoot , @secretly-small @writing-forever , @iinogongju , @tales-of-aestus-deactivated2023 , @itsgothgirlthyme , @make-me-giant , @reborrowing , @whatthisfemsheplikes , @soapysoap69

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

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #29: Flock Together

[Alexander’s POV]

My lips, teeth and tongue were abuzz with the vibration of my vocal cords as I gave voice to the images that terrorized my inner eye. A mist of sweat formed on my brow, as heat rose from my woozy stomach and thundering heart. It was as though I was watching myself speak, as if I were a spectator of my own testimonial. I could hear and feel myself talking, while also noticing, with intrigue, how somewhat removed and numb I was about the whole affair. Perhaps this was my brain’s way of protecting me from the sharp, psychological pain of the ordeal. I sat upright in the bed, locking eyes with those large golden orbs, as I felt a clenching in my throat and a stiffening in my spine.

While sitting outside myself, everything seemed to move at a snail’s pace, as though the element of time had been dipped in amber honey. I observed, with quiet fascination, the dust motes swirling in the currents of air she created as she shifted side to side. I felt the cool, clutching texture of the crisp, white sheets against my fingertips. As blood coursed in my veins with each pump of my heart, I could count each exhale as my body fought valiantly to maintain an equilibrium of sorts.

But the thing that stunned me the most, was the way she was looking at me. Not with condescension or hollow pity, but with a brow knit deeply and earnestly in gut-wrenching sorrow. From the moment I began to speak, her body had sunk with a gravity of guilt and horror, deeper into her chair, her eyes alight with… was that compassion? For me? This human, who I’d only very recently begun to tolerate, was genuinely listening to me. Suffice it to say, this was a brand new sensation.

The sound of my own voice, ringing in my ears, returned to the forefront of my mind, as I continued, “… As it turns out, they were right to bicker over the proper dose of anesthetic, because they clearly administered far less than they should have…” The bracing of her body was impossible to ignore, her brow furrowed more deeply as she feared what I was going to say next. In fact, I swore I could hear a hitching of breath as she anticipated her own worst fears, “So… after I was put under, I found myself coming to on the operating table.” She stared down at me wide-eyed and shocked, “I overheard their voices… they said something about taking advantage of your concern over me to push for surgery, that it was a pursuit of profit not careful practice. They openly acknowledged that they were the ones to strain my leg enough to break. I heard them, Natalie. Ah, I wish I could remember the exact amount… 0.3 or 0.2 milliliters of… Buprenorphine? I believe? That’s most common for anything weighing less than 10 ounces, from the literature I’ve read—“ I looked up to see her pen come to a sudden halt. She looked at the paper, littered with chicken scratch in blue ink on brighter blue lines. After a moment, I cleared my throat, “…Do you need me to spell it for you?”

She stopped looming over the page and met my gaze. Her expression puzzled me, “What?” I asked, already a bit annoyed. Was she offended I’d offered?

Seeing my confusion, she spoke softly, her head tilted slightly to my left, as her eyes lit up, “You are so fucking smart, Alexander.” Was she being sarcastic?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I felt my defenses prick up as I wondered if she was teasing me.

She immediately looked confused and taken aback, “I’m being serious. Don’t cross your arms and mean mug at me. I was trying to give you a compliment. You’re incredibly intelligent. I mean who the hell just knows how to spell bupreenophrene or whatever the hell just off the top of their head?” I opened my mouth to correct her obvious blunder but she held out a single index finger and quickly interrupted me, “Don’t be a wise ass. I know I didn’t say it right. It doesn’t matter. My point is, you impress me with that brain of yours… just don’t let it go to your head, alright?” I stayed quiet, relaxing my defensive posture. She sighed too, both of us coming down from the heat of the moment. She rested her chin atop her clenched fist and made eye contact, “I completely understand why you’re touchy. Pretty much every time you interact with a human, all they do is coo at you and condescend. I’m sorry. I know I’m guilty of that too. But, I don’t know what more I need to say to tell you I’m on your side in all this. I wanna help, not hurt you. Okay? Now, will you please continue?”

She raised back up to sitting, clutching her pen between her fingers. I admit, I appreciated her apology and burgeoning self awareness. She really was starting to listen to me. I’d certainly categorize that as a win, and, sure, her complimenting my superior intellect didn’t hurt either. Adjusting myself slightly to get a better view of her, now so high above, I continued, “Well… As the anesthesia began to prematurely wear off, that’s when my nerve endings really came back and I could… I could feel my knee, cut open and… I flailed and shouted and they pinned me down, but not before he, the veterinarian, lodged the scalpel in my leg, somewhere inside the incision…” My throat tightened up as the pain washed through me, as well as the fear: the pure, animalistic, paralyzing fear of being utterly helpless beneath the razor sharp blade of my natural enemy. I kept seeing that font of blood spewing from my rent flesh. The way those massive, gloved fingers had ripped it out without so much as a glance down at me. The overwhelming pain, my dipping consciousness. A woman with kind eyes behind glasses, appearing above me, “…There was someone else there who actually displayed compassion. I believe… no, I’m certain she saved my life. I likely would have bled to death without her… She promised me she’d return me to you. She said that I had to go under again, but that I could trust she wouldn’t let anyone touch me until I’d been reunited with you. Though I had no other recourse, I chose to trust her. Evidently she delivered on her word…” I couldn’t help the fraction of a smile that raised the corner of my mouth, as I returned my gaze to the woman peering down at me. To have survived, to have been reunited with a human who, in her own flawed way, cared about me, seemed no small feat. I had the young woman with gentle, gloved hands and an empathetic, shimmering smile to thank for that, “…She wore wire frame glasses—“

“—With big hazel eyes? Her name was something with an L? Lilly? Laura?” Natalie was nodding rigorously in recognition, as she spoke, fighting to recall the woman’s name. I couldn’t help but catch her fever, gesturing widely.

“—Yes! Lindsey! Her name was Lindsey! You met her? Did she hand me back to you?”

Her brow furrowed, her eyes seeming wetter than before, and nodded, “She kept her word. She brought you directly to me. She placed you right into my hands. You were completely passed out… You… You looked so…” She bit her lip, as her eyes brimmed with crystalline tears, “I was so worried about you. I was pacing back and forth the whole time. They assured me surgery was the only option. I— I am so sorry, Alexander. This is all on me. I take full responsibility. I’m the one who took you there, I signed off on the operation. I let them hurt you. I was just so worried, when you got so sick, so fast, I-I panicked. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted was to take care of you, but, instead, I did this to you. I gave you away to those monsters. This is all my fault. I am so, so deeply sorry, Alexander. I… I care about you more than I can say. You didn’t deserve any of this. I never meant to… Look, I completely understand if you can’t forgive me, just know, I feel so, so bad that it happened—“ Her voice cracked as her brow twinged, one tear rolling down the length of her cheek. Seconds later, the dam broke and she sobbed, burying her head in her hands.

There, too, my resolve cracked. I didn’t feel so numb anymore, so distant, or removed. Seeing her in pain directly before me, reignited my emotions, and I found myself hurting because she was. Was I really pitying a human being? Was she really shedding tears for my sake? Did she actually care as much as she claimed about this miniature mockery of a man who sat before her?

She blamed herself, and I could understand why: she felt responsible, that she ‘should have known better’. How could she have known they were breaking federal mandates? Her shoulders trembled as she continued weeping. I could see she was spiraling, “Natalie? Natalie, hey, it’s alright…” Her bloodshot eyes appeared behind a screen of dark, wavy hair, her brow pinched and sorrowful, “Give me your hand…” She just stared at me, wide-eyed and frozen, “Come on, I won’t bite… this time, I promise…” She broke into a smirk, that hint of a smile brightening her tear stained face, as she shook her head.

“This is all backwards, you’re the one who was traumatized, why are you comforting me?” She wiped away the trails of moisture on her cheek with the back of her hand, before settling and offering me her right pointer finger.

I clutched it with both hands, cradling the pad in my right hand and stroking the side and nail bed with my left, “I don’t blame you for what happened…” Her eyes immediately brimmed with tears again, as she blinked hard and turned away, “Natalie, Natalie look at me, please… It’s not your fault.” She shook her head, biting her lip, losing the battle to keep from crying, “You did the best you could. You take good care of me. No, don’t shake your head, you do. I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for you. That’s true! It’s not your fault…” I squeezed the tip of her finger and that seemed to push her over the edge. She cried again, eyes glowing with flecks of green behind the waterfall of her tears. I admit, her weeping made me well up, myself. For the first time in my life, a human wept for me. Someone so much bigger than myself responded to my pain with tears in her eyes and a gentle coaxing voice. Never in my life did I think such a thing was possible. I could never fault her for her compassion.

“May I touch you? Can I move your arm?” She choked out, between sobs. I nodded in the affirmative, heart thundering against my ribs. My agreement to her proposal made her cry harder for some reason I couldn’t understand. She flipped my hand over so it was now facing palm down against her upturned finger, the ridges of her fingertip now visible to me. She rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb, engulfing it, but still managed to be incredibly gentle. She moved my hand a little further away from my body, and flashed her eyes at me as she leaned down, slowly, slowly, and sank her lips into my outstretched fingers. The nerves in my hand were on fire, my heart was threatening to escape the walls of my ribcage. She’d only kissed me once before, and this brush of my skin to her lips was no less potent than the last. I did everything I could to keep my cool, I was done for if she caught on to just how much she was affecting me. As she pulled away, she stared down lovingly at my splayed fingers, rubbing with her thumb again, “I love these hands. You have such beautiful, little, delicate hands…” Normally I’d roll my eyes and groan at a comment like that, but her gaze told me, it was entirely in earnest. My heart fluttered in my chest and I felt a twisting sensation in my stomach.

Finally, she stifled a laugh and gently placed my hand on my thigh. Releasing the grip of her finger and thumb, she apologized, “I’m sorry. Like I said, this is about me being there for you, not the other way around… But, thank you, for comforting me. You really can be a sweetheart when you want to be, can’t you?”

I felt like I suddenly sat up just a bit taller, “I’ve no clue what you’re talking about…” I crossed my arms over my chest in defiance, while grinning just enough to give away my joke, “I don’t mind helping a human while she throws a big fuss over nothing every now and again…” She rolled her eyes and smirked, as I continued, “But do you really want to know how you can make it up to me?” With rapt attention and wide eyes, she rested her chin on her fist before my bedside, her gaze now only an inch or so above my eye-line. She was so close, I could feel the warm gust of her breath. I focused on keeping my voice steady and resonant, “You can help me take them down.” I cocked an eyebrow, awaiting a response I was already fairly confident in.

“You kidding?! I’ll do anything and everything I can, Alexander. I promise.” Her finger gently tapped my left knee as a small gesture of reassurance. I liked the warmth of her touch, how gentle it was. I was sorry when she pulled away.

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

His little face twisted, and his brow furrowed, as if he was struggling with how to proceed. I stayed very still, watching him battle himself, trying my best to be patient, even though I was dying to know just what he was thinking. Finally, those blazing blue eyes locked on mine, “You really mean that, Natalie?” Of course, I do, sweetheart, “You’re not just placating me? Or pacifying your own guilt? You would actually help me take legal action against them?”

He was tense, uncertain, wary. Poor thing. I couldn’t blame him. How many times had his heart been broken by humans who’d promised to stand by him? I felt tears rush to the corners of my eyes again, as I spoke softly, returning his gaze, “Alexander, I want to help you. In any and every way possible. I believe in you. You are remarkable and I’m so so lucky to have you here with me. You wanna go for their throats? I’ll sharpen my nails. I told you I’d help you dig their graves myself, I meant that—“

“Why?” His sudden cut off stopped me in my tracks.

I could only sputter in response,“W-what? What do you mean, ‘why’?”

“Why… why are you so willing to help me? It’s not like I can compensate you financially, there’s nothing I can do to reciprocate the gesture. What is the benefit to you? I’m just supposed to believe in good faith that you’ll never grow tired of acting out of the goodness of your heart or whatever excuse you’re using to justify your motivations?”

My heart sank. Did he really not understand how much I cared and what I saw in him? “Are you worried I have some sort of hidden agenda? That I’m offering to help or that I’m pretending to help for my own selfish gain? Is that what you’re getting at?” He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the lettering on his sweatshirt, and shrugged, staring back defiantly, waiting for me to answer my own question, “I know you’re used to people being selfish. I know you are constantly on edge, expecting some sort of passive aggression or hidden agenda. I see it in your eyes almost every time I try to touch you or pick you up, that flicker of doubt, that fear. You still don’t trust me. And that’s okay. You’ve had a lifetime of broken promises and a handful of days with a dumb, clumsy human who’s learning as she goes just how to do right by you. I know I infuriate and offend you almost every day, but… fuck… I’m trying, okay? You’re teaching me and I’m trying my best to learn. Look, I’m being straight with you. I want to help because I think you’re a person worth helping. I take care of you because I genuinely want to. I like having you in my life, Alexander. But please don’t think I’m trying to possess you or that I’m doing this to hold it over your head later. I know you’re scared. You try really hard to be brave, and you are, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met. But I know you’re scared, too. Who wouldn’t be? I guess… what I’m trying to say is… if you’ll let me in, you don’t have to go through this frightened and alone.”

He stared at the surface of the dresser with his piercing gaze, the inner gears of his mind turning rapidly. He seemed to be at an extraordinarily rare loss for words. I broke the ice with a soft voice, “May I ask you a question and will you promise to be honest with me?” His head snapped up to meet my gaze, apprehension and worry clouding his eyes. Yet, somehow, he nodded, slightly, agreeing to my terms, “You’re scared after all your fighting you’ll end up right back where you started, aren’t you? There’s this gnawing worry at the back of your mind that in spite of everything, you’re going to end up the plaything of a human who will never see you for what you’re capable of being. Is that about right?”

He was taken aback, color drained from his face. He hadn’t expected me to read him cover to cover like that. Without looking up, he folded his hands in his lap and mumbled, his little voice even quieter than normal making it quite hard to hear, “I… suppose the thought had crossed my mind.”

I tried not to be hurt by the realization that he still believed I’d treat him like that, and rested my chin on the polished wood ‘floor’ searching for his gaze, “Give me a chance to prove to you that I’m worthy of your trust, okay? When I told you I wanted to help you take those fuckers down, I meant it. Will you let me help you?”

He looked lost in thought for a moment, staring straight ahead. After a few heartbeats, as I gazed at him at eye level, I watched him set his jaw and blink before meeting my eyes, “Okay, Ms. Marquez, you have yourself a deal.” Slowly, he offered his hand to shake. When the pad of my finger slid into his outstretched palm, dwarfing it, I couldn’t help the rush of blood to my cheeks. I hoped the light from behind was enough to mask my flustered face. I gently held his tiny hand between my finger and thumb while he shook it with the strength and confidence of a much bigger man. He was quick to wriggle free, though, which disappointed me; I would’ve liked to have held and marveled at his little hand all day. Still. I couldn’t help but notice a sudden rosy tint to his tiny cheeks, even as he pulled away. Suddenly, I realized he was speaking to me, his tone of voice immediately irritated, “… Natalie? Hello? Are you paying attention?”

What had gotten into me? We’d shared a nice moment of solidarity and now I was caught staring, lost in thought. Upon hearing him, I snapped out of it, blinking hard, “Hmmm?” I’d been so caught up in his little features! Could I really be blamed? It wasn’t often he’d let me get this close. If we both stayed very still, I could almost make out his microscopic eyelashes, fringing those brilliant eyes with that fiercely intelligent spark behind them. His disheveled hair flopped in strands along his brow looking as stormy and malcontent as the sharp tone in his voice which still rang in my ears. What a strange little contradiction he was: delicate, yet bold, tiny, yet larger than life, vulnerable yet unafraid. He had every reason to be a trembling mess, reliving such horrible memories, but, instead, I could see this fire burning within him, this vindictive, righteous anger that moved him to great passion and, which, in this moment, he was taking out on me.

“What’re you ogling at me for? Don’t tell me I just spilled my guts to you, only to have you stare at me all starry-eyed like I’m some adorable kitten. It’s rude to stare, Ms. Marquez, has no one ever taught you that?” My cheeks burned. I was being taken to task by a man I could put in my pocket, “...So?? Are you going to just sit there, blinking like an idiot or are we going to get to work?”

******

Whatever had distracted her before seemed to be quickly quelled by my direct questioning. She sprang into action, setting up her phone, on a small metal stand in a horizontal position. This set the device at about the height of my lap, when she brought my desk chair and placed it directly in front. Once she’d finished setting everything up, she returned to where I sat and leaned down, “You ready?” I nodded, preparing myself to be picked up, but she continued, “I have one more little surprise for you. Close your eyes.”

“I’m not a child, Natalie, you can just show me—“

“Aw, c’mon sourpuss! Let me have this. I like surprising you with shit so maybe one day you’ll decide you actually like me.” She begged in a teasing way and I couldn’t help from chuckling. She clocked that immediately, “Ha ha, yeah I know. Fat chance. But c’mon, let me enjoy this. Please?” I rolled my eyes, sighed performatively and finally shut my windows to the world like she’d asked, “Okay, put out your hands…” I heard the grinding sound of wood, like a drawer opening, and then a rustle of fingers far too big for the dimensions of the comparatively tiny desk drawer as she fished about for whatever it was. Then, something landed in my hands and I was granted permission to open my eyes.

While it was wrapped and sealed in obnoxious packaging, with print scaled for human eyes, what I found in my hands still made me smile in spite of myself. Placed inside my opened palms were two spiral notebooks and a pair of already sharpened pencils scaled to me. After two decades of scrounging through trash and scraps for paper and anything to write with, I now had legitimate means to record my thoughts for the very first time in my life. It meant far more to me than she could possibly understand.

“What do you think? Do you like them?” I could see she was anxious for my approval. What a curious circumstance I found myself in, where a human was desperate for my opinion. It was far from a disagreeable position to be in. Still, all I could manage to respond with was a nod to keep from getting emotional. I turned my attention to freeing them from the packaging, the clear plastic being far thicker and more robust than I’d expected. Watching me struggle, she leaned in, fingertips looming ever closer, “Here, you want help?”

I hugged the items closer to my chest, “I’m fine, thank you.” Her lips tightened slightly, clearly disappointed she wasn’t allowed to do it for me. I admit, I felt a smug satisfaction even as I struggled to muster the strength to rip it open, that she didn’t just snatch it from my grip and tear into it anyway. I’d trained this human well. She was learning. Suddenly, she gasped, making me jump and search her face for clues.

“Aw shit!”

“What is it now?” I admit, I was annoyed. All I wanted was to start my research and she was getting in the way of that, even if she had the best of intentions. In the wake of her outburst, I managed to (finally) open the packaging, gripping the contents inside the busted plastic pouch.

“I just remembered, you’re left handed. Those spiral notebooks are gonna suck for you, aren’t they? I can’t believe I didn’t think of that! Here, I can return them…”

She reached for them again. I pulled away. Was she really incapable of thinking this through? Without saying a word, I held one of the note books in my lap, my pencil pinched between my fingers. The glossy black paint on the wooden writing instrument rivaled the black and white marbling on the notebook covers. Gesturing broadly to make sure my movements were distinctly legible for her, I flipped the notebook once, along its horizontal axis so that the back of the book was now facing skyward and then rotated it 180 degrees clockwise, so that the spiral binding was now clutched in my right hand. Without missing a beat I opened the book to its very first (technically, last) page, and scribbled “DON'T RETURN” as large as I could across the blue lined paper and then held it up for her.

“Okay, now I feel like a fucking dumbass…” she held her face in her hand, sighing and shaking her head in a moment of self deprecation.

“Well, I wasn’t going to be the one to say it out loud… but now that you mention it…” I smirked up at her, not at all dissatisfied with my own joke. She immediately began to laugh, groaning in mock disdain.

“Come here…” her fingers slid around and beneath me and I suddenly found myself lifted high in the air, seated amongst a web of fingers. My heart leapt to my throat as she held me before her eyes, splayed out in her hand. I was feeling rather small, now, plucked up so easily and held aloft before those familiar, wide eyes, “What’s your problem, huh? Why are you so mean? I do all these nice things to help you and now you’re calling me a dumbass?” She dug a fingertip, teasingly, into my chest, I squirmed against her touch, batting her away.

“You called yourself one, I said no such thing!” I lifted up my hands in a gesture to show I took no responsibility. She rolled her eyes, and stood with me cradled in her hand, before crossing the room to stand before her desk. I’m so close to finally beginning my life’s work anew. I was a mere few feet away…. If she could just put me down…

“I mean for real, I have a whole ass undergrad degree and am about to graduate from law school… and you just hung me out to dry! Are you really that much smarter than me or am I just way stupider than I thought?”

“Yes, yes… Now, please, let’s get started, shall we?” I attempted my best polite smile, clapping my hands together and sitting up inside her palm, trying to coax her into lowering me into my chair. She didn’t budge an inch.

“What do you mean, ‘Yes’? You don’t really think I’m stupid do you? I’ll have you know I graduated fourth in my class in undergrad, little sir! Besides, there are different kinds of intelligences. You just happen to be particularly book smart—“

“—Book smart, yes, got it! Speaking of that, I think the best way to keep getting smarter is to conduct research. Expand my horizons, all that. So with that in mind—“

“Besides, I’m like, ninety percent certain two of the people ahead of me my senior year were cheating to get perfect grades…” she kept talking, “I’m still convinced I coulda gone head to head with Jack Lahey for salutatorian!” And talking, “But not Lindsay Ellyach, she was like, inhumanly smart— I’d never be able to out do her! Not even now!! She was the valedictorian…” With no sign of letting up, she carried on, full steam ahead, “…It’d be fun to pit you against her and see if you could give her a run for her money… she was actually always really nice though, which honestly made it even more annoying—“

“Natalie!!” I was too exasperated, I couldn’t help myself.

“Oh. Oh my god. I’m talking too much aren’t I? Poor thing, you just want to get your nerd on and start working on this and here I am keeping you. I’m sorry. Here…”

True to her word she gently lowered me down into my swivel chair. Handing me back the notebook and pencil that had slid into the center of her palm once I’d begun moving about. I gripped these items with firm yet clammy hands. This was it! Here I was about to do something I never thought possible: openly researching unfair practices against my kind, directly in front of, and with the full support of a human being.

“Alexander?” Her voice, timid and apologetic, rang from high above my left shoulder. That is, until she adjusted herself to rest her head down, close to where I was, “Are you mad at me?” She stared at me with bright, pleading eyes, before her hand approached and she flicked my hair from my eyes with the brush of her thumb.

I snarled and wrenched away, “I’m too busy to be mad at you. Please, I just want to work on this in peace.” I had no patience to be the steward of a needy human’s emotions right now.

She was quick to respect my wishes, turning her attention to her own massive screen, simply adding, she was “happy to help” in any way she could. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see she had her coursework up.

Finally, a moment of blessed, uninterrupted silence for me to get to work! I was so giddy I could’ve giggled like a little kid. Cracking my knuckles, I flipped open my brand new, beautiful notebook, with its perfectly proportionate blue lined paper, to the next fresh page. I proceeded to format my page for notes in the same way I’d seen executed hundreds, if not thousands of times, by a man with a watery blue, cataract-filled gaze, and short temper.

No time to think of him now, I had justice to pursue and legal precedents on my side. I may as well have measured nine feet tall today, what with all the probability of victory I already possessed. I traced my lower lip with a pointer finger as I leaned in to operate the phone’s internet browser.

As soon as my fingertips pressed into the colorful glass display, Natalie let out a forlorn sigh. As I craned my neck, I watched as she tucked a strand of curls behind her ear, her expression twisted into a pout.

If it had been any other human, I probably would’ve jeered and berated her for getting so upset over such a minor thing. But for some reason, when it came to Natalie, I suddenly had a heavy conscience. I didn’t like seeing her upset. What was wrong with me? I was getting soft.

“Natalie?” She suddenly seemed quite absorbed in her work, as if she couldn’t be bothered with me. Ah, so that’s how it feels. My face flushed hot. I tried again, leaning to tug on her sleeve right at the bend in her elbow, which rested within arm’s reach, “Natalie…”

“What?” She was cold, annoyed. A pang of guilt washed through me. All of a sudden, I felt uncharacteristically small and timid, staring up at this woman who towered over me, wanting to repair the damage I’d done.

“I can see I’ve hurt your feelings…” an olive branch.

Would she take it?

“No. I’m good. Just trying to get this done. Do you need something?” Well, that was a resounding no then. So much for trying to be vulnerable. If she wanted to play games, fine, then, it was my turn.

“Why are you being so childishly passive aggressive? You’re very clearly upset, you’re actively pouting and you threw a fit just moments ago. I’m apologizing. Isn’t that what you wanted?” Why did humans always have to change the rules to fit their narrative? It made no sense to me. What did she want me to do?

She was quick to raise a brow at me before she retorted, “I’m being childish?! Really? That’s funny, because last I checked that wasn’t even an apology. You just made a statement. Look, I’m trying to keep my cool here, but you don’t get to shrug someone off and hurt their feelings and then bark back at them about their own emotional state and get mad when that doesn’t fix the problem. Try a real apology next time and maybe you’ll get the response you were looking for.”

With that, she turned her attention back to her work, and gave me the iciest of cold shoulders. I may as well have been invisible for all she cared to acknowledge me. My stomach dropped.

She was right.

As much as I hated to admit it, she was absolutely right.

I took a deep breath and then sprung to my feet (or foot, rather), careful to keep my injured leg from bearing any weight. She jumped, making a fuss the second I stood up, “Woah! What do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to put any pressure—“ I was already quite off balance, trying to keep one foot from touching the floor. Even with my arms outstretched, and tensing all the necessary muscles to stay upright, the moment I craned my neck to look directly up at her, and as I opened my mouth and the words ‘I’m sorry’ began to form on my lips, I knew I was a goner. I started to stumble, my arms grasping at air as my good leg gave way beneath me. I braced for impact with the hard surface of the desk. Yet, within the next fraction of a second, I found myself perfectly upright, the wind knocked out of me.

I blinked hard, trying to make sense of what had just happened. In the breadth of a heartbeat, she’d reached for me, catching me from my fall and suspending me upright, with a little gentle pressure. Her thumb was now pressed against my chest, her nail landing just beneath my left arm. Her index finger wrapped around my lumbar curve and gently rested against my bent elbow. As I collided into the barrier she provided with her hand, I found myself gasping for air and instinctively gripping onto her thumb with both hands. She kept me steady as I found my footing, and craned my neck to meet her eyes. She looked down at me in shock and concern, “What was all that for? You scared the shit out of me…”

“I was trying to apologize. Now I think we can both see how much that disagrees with me in practice…” She broke into a brilliant smile and peered down at me, nodding her head in agreement as she shrugged and giggled. I’d be lying if I didn't admit I enjoyed the sound of her laugh. I suddenly felt quite warm, surrounded by her fingertips. I could even feel her heartbeat beneath the surface of her skin.

My heart leapt to my throat, as I felt her eyes continue to gaze down at me. She’d stopped her bemused chuckling, instead staring at me in a way that made me squirm beneath her. Slowly, slowly, she guided her pointer finger beneath my left arm, to keep me upright, and very gently, she passed the pad of her thumb across my chest in a rhythmic back and forth motion. I froze. All her attention was on me, balanced carefully inside the hollow of her hand. What was she doing? Could she feel how hard my heart was hammering against my sternum?

Her eyes flickered in concern, as the motion of her thumb ceased, in the direct center of my sternum, “Your little chest is pounding away like crazy—” Well, that answers that. My face flushed bright red, as she suddenly sunk lower, so that her chin was resting on the crook of her right elbow, and the tip of her nose was a mere few inches from where I stood, propped up between her fingers. She was so close, I could see a silhouette of myself reflected in the iris of her eye. She’d returned to stroking me, I stiffened, barely able to keep my composure as she hit me with her next question, her voice soft, low and intimate, “Is this okay?”

It took every ounce of willpower I had left in me to keep from trembling. She was so close, so warm, I could smell her fragrant hair, feel the heat of her hand, all while I took in those bright, brilliant eyes, awaiting my answer. I was completely overwhelmed, surrounded by her on all sides. I couldn’t breathe. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe. I needed out.

“No! No it’s not!” I finally choked out, “You’re too close. Please, just put me down.”

Her face fell. It wasn’t the answer she’d been hoping for. She blinked once, twice, and then obediently did as she was asked, quietly whispering “Sorry” as she prepared to let me go. Too bad, she has no right to fluster me like that. I told myself that over and over as she gently sat me down in my chair.

We were right back where we started. A tension palpable in the air between us. Even as I got exactly what I asked for, I felt an ache where the heat of gentle fingers had just been. My heart continued to pound away against my breast as I wrestled with the confusing thing that had just taken place.

She didn’t say another word and I followed suit, much too embarrassed and shaken to fill in the gaps between our clicking, swiping and staring at screens with any polite conversation. I sank in my chair. What was happening to me here? All I’d ever wanted was the chance to research this compelling case in harmonious, blessed silence. But now that I had my greatest desire, I suddenly felt hollow inside. It wasn’t possible that my heart had blossomed toward this human beside me.

Wasn’t it?

Just then, as I had paused in my notes, to sneak a glance up at her, I found myself catching her eye, as she appeared to be doing the same thing, in reverse. Blushing hard, I tore my gaze away, staring flatly at the screen before me.

Try as I may to read and reread the lines of black text on white pixels, one thought kept ricocheting through my skull: what did she make of all this? I couldn’t bring myself to ask, so I imagined I’d never know.

I tried to ignore these feelings, leaning into the article I’d found on veterinary law in the state of Massachusetts, even despite my elevated blood pressure. That is, until the sound of her clearing her throat to get my attention became impossible to ignore.

Reluctantly, I turned over my shoulder to face her, admittedly a little anxious to see just what I’d find there. When I turned, I was confronted with her finger and thumb directly before me and pinched between them was a delicate paper flower, a daisy, I’d made for her seemingly forever ago. Then, her voice, soft and strained rang in my ears, “I’m sorry I can’t ever seem to get this right… I’m just a big dumb human that upsets you. I’m sorry for that.”

And that right there was a proper, genuine apology, unlike the half baked defensive excuse I’d thrown at her earlier. Guilt creeped in as I realized what I’d done. Sighing, I made up my mind, and as I leaned over and clutched the fake flower from her grip, I formulated my response, “Will you do me a favor?”

“Of course, anything.” She meant that in earnest.

“Will you pick me up and hold me directly before you?” My past self would have a hard time believing this series of events to be true, and yet, here I was, requesting to be handled by a human. She hesitated for a moment, watching me closely for signs of regret or discomfort, before pinching me between her thumb and forefinger, and placing me inside her waiting palm. She then lifted me up to her face, her eyes confused and cautious, “Closer…” She inched me forward, “Still closer…” her brow furrowed, I was already less than half an inch from the bridge of her nose, “Almost there…” Now she held me so close I was hovering over her face, far too near for her eyes to be able to focus on me anymore. My chest practically brushed against her eyelashes as I reached up and over, planting the flower I’d made for her in the nest of waves and curls that was her hair. With that, I gently patted her on the forehead and whispered, “Okay, all done.”

She pulled her hand back to a reasonable distance again, staring at me with delighted eyes, “Did you just…?”

“Natalie, I owe you an apology. I’m not particularly fond of them, so don’t get used to it…” I sat up a bit straighter with my arms crossed, as she broke into a knowing smile, “But the way I see it… we’re a team now, unlikely and mismatched as that is. And I… I could have done better by my partner and I’m sorry. I was dismissive and I rejected your simple kindnesses. As you can clearly see, those sorts of things don’t come naturally to me, so I can’t promise an entirely different response in the future. But what I can say is I’ll endeavor to see things from your perspective once in a while. And… maybe on a very special occasion, I’ll allow you to touch me gently again…” my throat tightened and color rose in my cheeks again at the mere mention.

By the time I’d finished speaking, she’d broken into a wide grin, “You’re such a little liar! I knew you liked it, that’s why you were all squirmy and red faced. I’m gonna get you to admit you like me… someday, it’s gonna happen. I fluster you, don’t I? Like right now… you’re all kinds of squirmy. Look at you, you can’t even look me in the eye!”

“Natalie! Don’t make me regret this the second I say it! I am not flustered!”

“Suuure you’re not. Of course not, Little Nightmare. No flushed face and heaving chest here! Nope! Totally calm and collected…”

“Natalie!!!”

“You’re too easy to tease! It’s not my fault!”

“I’m never apologizing to you again if this is how you’re going to weaponize my vulnerability against me!”

“Oh woe is Alexander! Look how he’s being so horribly mistreated!” She made a big fuss, rolling her eyes and gesturing with her free hand. I admit it made me smile, for just a fraction of a second, but it was enough for her to pick up on, “I saw that! The little robot does have a sense of humor. How delightful!”

“I despise you and everything you stand for.”

“Yup! So sweet and funny! Just an absolute sweetheart of a little man. Nothing about this is alarming at all. I should definitely not plan on sleeping with one eye open tonight.” She cupped her chin in her free hand, biting her lip as she smiled at me, “But seriously though, thank you, Little Nightmare. I can see you’re trying, and that’s all I can ask for. I promise not to push your boundaries… too much. But I’m sorry if I can be overwhelming at times. Are we okay?”

I sucked in a sharp breath, before nodding, “In spite of my better judgment, I suppose I’ll allow for forgiveness this one time. Don’t get used to it, I’ve got my eye on you, Miss Marquez.” I raised my brows and flashed her an expectant look.

“Alright! The dynamic duo is back!! Wonder Twin powers… Activate!!” She held out a knuckle of her clenched fist, presumably so I would bump her back with my own.

“No. Never. Don’t even try.”

“Eh, it was worth a shot… back to it, then?” She gently caressed my knee with her thumb as she asked. I nodded curtly.

Soon, I found myself lowered back down to the level of her elbow, still close enough to feel the warmth radiating off of her. I did my best to clear my mind and focus on my work, but, I have to admit, any time she shifted in her seat,or hummed (badly) to herself, I couldn’t help but get a bit distracted.

Maybe a life like this wasn’t so bad. Maybe, just for now, I could learn to like this, Wonder Twin Powers and all.

#Whew! This was a rollercoaster ride!#Will they? Won't they? Will Alexander cry or scream?#Porque no los dos?#They are both such a mess #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t writing #g/t related #g/t angst #size difference #a fraction of justice #g/t fluff #oc:alexander #oc:natalie

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