#and joking with the doctors as they got me on the operating table

[rosepinks-world]

𝐃𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇! | house x fem!reader

summary: in which the team won’t stop talking to house about the new doctor who operates in the morgue…in the depths of the hospital.

warnings: a lot of death talk, house flirting, possibly ooc, unspecified age gap, joke about necrophilia, a lot of medical inaccuracies

“Just got results back from pathology. Patient had tb.” Cameron announced as Chase threw the file onto the table.

“The guy died like an hour ago? They already got the results back?” Foreman asked confused yet also impressed.

Cameron nodded. “Yeah. The unit got a new doctor. She’s really good.”

“And hot.” Chase added.

Foreman and Cameron rolled their eyes and House smirked.

“Pathologists are always freaky…and not the good kind.” House mentioned.

Cameron frowned irritated. “Yeah? How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“How do you not? Come on! Someone who wants to specialise in cutting dead people open doesn’t scream freaky to you?”

Cameron looked disgusted with house whereas the two men made faces that showed they were hearing house out.

“You guys are ridiculous. And we’ve got another patient. 35 year old gentleman who is quite literally the pinnacle of health had a heart attack this morning.”

“Fun.” House sounded sarcastically. “Page me if anything interesting happens.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

House was having his normally scheduled lunch with Wilson when the freaky girl was brought up again.

“Have you met the new pathologist she’s great.”

House rolled his eyes so hard they may have gotten stuck in the back of his head. “What is with this woman? Are you having an affair with her or something?”

“You’re a real dick sometimes.”

House waved him off and took some fries off of Wilson’s plate.

“I’m not having an affair with her. She’s nice and an extremely competent doctor.”

House rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah I get it she’s amazing stop before I vomit.”

Wilson chuckled, “Oh! Cuddys looking for you. She looks pissed.”

“She always looks pissed. She really needs to get laid.”

House was seconds away from making another comment when his beeper sounded making him bid Wilson farewell and walk away as quick as he could.

He walked into the heart attack patients room and was met with Chase announcing the patients time of death a weeping wife and brother standing next to them.

“Great you killed the guy.” House sounded sarcastically.

“We didn’t even start treatment he was completely fine until-“ Cameron tried to reason.

“Until he wasn’t.” House finished.

Cameron looked sheepish and stopped talking exchanging a shared angry look with Foreman.

House made a confused look as the nurses began to prepare the body for the morgue and walked away making a visit he knew he wouldn’t enjoy.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Carefully making his way down the morgue stairs House took in the new area he was in. It was well in the depths of the hospital, no sunlight, no voices, no commotion. It was creepy yet also calming. He saw a white lab coat rush by, seeming to be the only colour in the place. He watched intently as you poured various chemicals into test tubes and expertly prepared the autopsy almost dancing between steps.

House chuckled, “The guys not even cold and you’re dancing around his corpse.”

You let out a shriek in surprise almost dropping the test tubes you were holding. You turned in the direction of the voice and were met with a man likely in his 40s propping himself up with a cane. House chuckled at your reaction not being able to help finding your widened eyes cute.

“I know I’m no Brad Pitt but I can’t be that hideous.” He joked making his way towards you off the stairs.

You laughed clutching your heart. In all honesty you found the stranger rather attractive so his self deprecation made you laugh in disbelief.

“No! You see no one ever comes down here so you just scared me.”

He nodded pointing to the body on the table. “He was my patient-“

You frowned, “Oh I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. I don’t care.”

You made a confused look bewildered by the man as he made his way to the man on your table.

“What I do care about is why he had a heart attack when there was no medical explanation as to why it happened.”

You grabbed your scalpel, “I should have an answer in an hour or two. Fancy making any predictions?”

House smirked slightly, “With a guy this size he had to be taking steroids.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Well what do you think?”

“Poison.”

House made a face of disbelief. “Are you serious you think steroids is a reach but poison isn’t.”

“Wanna bet?” You asked.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Maybe it was disrespectful, betting on the cause of death of a patient but that’s what you and the mystery doctor had decided to do.

With a cool $100 on the line you began cutting into the man the doctor watching you intently as you did.

“Who are you?” You asked the him.

“Greg House.” To that you made a noise of recognition to which he questioned.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr House.” You said as you began to cut out parts of the organs to test.

“All good I hope.” He replied

You laughed dropping the samples into the prepared test tubes, “Yeah… not really.”

He shrugged. “Can’t please them all.”

“It doesn’t seem like you please anyone.”

You paused after thinking about the double meaning of what you just said. By the look on his face he was thinking the same thing-his next words confirming it.

“Oh. You’d be surprised.”

The two of you made eye contact as he said that you being the one to break it suddenly feeling rather hot under his gaze. You averted your eyes to the body under you, immediately remembering you were performing an autopsy and that now was not the time to flirt with the infamous Greg House.

“I’ve heard a lot about you Dr Death.”

Swirling the test tube around you raised a brow, “Like what? And Dr Death. Really?”

“Just that everyone adores you. It makes me sick.”

“Well aren’t you a ray of sunshine?” You replied sarcastically sewing the patient up.

“I try to be as positive as possible.” He answered playing on the joke.

“Well Dr House the names Y/n L/n. And I’m telling you because you should know the name of the woman you owe $100 to.”

His eyes widened. “You’re lying prove it.”

You explained that the heart had very clear signs of stress typically seen on those with heart conditions and to confirm your initial theory you held up the test tube with the heart tissue sample explaining that the reaction that took place confirms the presence of poison.

He was speechless. You were really good at your job. God he hated when Wilson was right. Even worse he hated that Chase was right because Wow, you really were hot.

“Did the guy have a wife?” You asked.

“Yeah. He did.”

You shrugged, “It’s always the partner. If she’s still here I’d check if she has anything on her if I were you.”

Everything pieced together in Houses head. The hug the wife and the brother shared the crocodile looking tears the sudden death with no symptoms. House stormed back up the stairs as quick as his cane would take him and you followed hot on his tail curious to see if you were right and what would go down if you were.

The wife and the brother looked as if they had just completed the paperwork and were just leaving when House shouted at them.

“You poisoned your husband!”

You widened your eyes at his boldness. You were so fucked if you were wrong.

It took barely any provoking before the wife burst into tears admitting to the crime blaming the brother for planting the idea in her head so they could be together. Hospital security seized the two before the man could attack House and you stood in shock.

This had been the most commotion you’d seen in years. You should really get out the basement more.

House shook his head disgusted at the criminals as he walked away. “Well done Dr Death.”

You rolled your eyes following him. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Seriously? You’ve got to get out of that basement more.”

You nodded hearing him out. And he turned to the side asking a question he was dying to know.

“Why be a pathologist of all things? You a necrophiliac or something?”

Your jaw dropped in disbelief as you held a finger to his face to which he just smirked. Before you could say anything in return your boss interrupted.

“House!”

House stopped dead in his tracks turning around to meet Cuddy with a fake, sweet smile.

“Cuddy! New blouse? May I say it really flatters your breasts-“

Her eyes widened in anger. “Clinic. Now.”

She made eye contact with you. “I’m so sorry for him.”

You smirked. “He’ll be sorry if he doesn’t give me $100 for our bet.”

“I’ll make it up to you honey.” He winked to which you grimaced. “No I’d rather just have the $100.”

Cuddy looked disgusted by the two of you. “Please don’t tell me the two of you bet on a patient.”

House feigned outrage “Lisa! I would never do such a thing.”

Cuddy shook her head and walked away. Leaving the two of you alone.

“I wasn’t joking by the way. I can make it up to you.”

“Oh yeah? How?” You smirked.

He leaned in closer and went to speak when the two of you were interrupted.

“Viagra!”

You both furrowed your faces turning to look at the man.

“I need another dose of viagra. That stuff is great me and my wife have been at it like we used to when we were teenagers.”

You grimaced as did House. You pointed at the viagra dependant man and explained, “You see this is why I decided on pathology I know nothing about their sex lives because they’re dead.”

House nodded, “Yeah I’m starting to envy you Dr Death.”

Nonetheless House began to write the man his prescription and you took it as your cue to walk away.

“Oh! And to answer your question I can make our bet up, with dinner this Saturday.” He shouted handing the man the prescription.

You scoffed, “If that’s the case you should probably write yourself your own prescription old man.”

You smirked at House and turned on your heel walking back to the basement but you could still hear his voice from behind you.

“Is that a yes or no? L/n! You can’t leave me high and dry!”

[sabrinajenre96]

Pairing: Dr. Michael Robinavitch x Doctor!Reader (fem) 📎 Warnings: Fluff, family chaos, dad jokes so bad they might be a medical emergency, light language, mentions of past teen pregnancy, one (1) Belgian Malinois with too much energy, and an 8-year-old attempting crazy scientific experiments. 📅 Series: The Robinavitch Chronicles

tagging: @kmc1989 @nowandajenn @stefanmikaleson1864 @beebeechaos @sweetwanderlust05

🩺 Summary:

Welcome to the barely controlled chaos of the Robinavitch household—where the operating room is somehow less stressful than breakfast time. Dr. Y/N is a badass senior resident, Michael a genius attending with the patience of a saint (most days), and their three kids—Sawyer (teen with a sass level over 9000), Alex (mad scientist in training), and Spencer (tiny terror in a tutu)—keep them on their toes. Add in Kojo, their overprotective Belgian Malinois who thinks he’s part babysitter, part security detail, and you’ve got a family sitcom disguised as a medical drama.

Expect: snack-fueled standoffs, bubble bath bribes, science experiments gone rogue, and enough love to keep this whole circus together.

Paging all readers: Things are about to get adorably unhinged.

Author note: You can share and tag me, but I forbid anyone from stealing my work and making it yours. I put my heart and soul into coming up with this series. Unfortunately, I have witnessed creators coming across this problem.

Episodes:

Episode one ~ Chaos in scrubs

Episode Two ~ Saturdays Are for Pancakes and Trouble

Episode Three ~ Interrupted: A Bedtime Tragedy

Episode Four ~ No Locked Doors, Just Trauma

Episode five ~ Babysitter’s Survival Guide

Episode Six ~ Parent-Teacher Purgatory

Episode Seven ~Camp Chaos & Royal Decrees

Episode eight ~The Littlest Doctor

Episode Nine ~ Operation Birthday Surprise: Paging Dr. Daddy

Episode Ten ~ Threat Level Spencer

Episode Eleven ~ The (Not So) Scary Medical Masquerade

Episode Twelve -Operation: No One Find Us (Please)

Episode Thirteen -Paging Dr. Mom and Dr. Dad – Career Day Chaos

Episode Fourteen- Code Pink: Spencer Silence

Episode Fifteen - Shift Leader Spencer” – Operation: No Grandma, No Peace

Episode Sixteen - aloha chaos: the Robinavitch's edition

Episode Seventeen - Memoirs of a Mini Mob Boss” – Life According to Spencer Robinavitch

“Episode Eighteen -The Case of the Midnight Brownie Bandit”

“Episode Nineteen - The Glitter Queen’s Sixth Birthday: A Sparkly Roast

“Episode twenty - No Interruptions”

Episode twenty-one -The Return of the Mini Mob

Episode twenty two - "Tiny Heart, Big Drama"

Episode twenty three - "Operation: First Date (With Kojo On Duty)"

Episode twenty four -Episode Title: “Big Sisters, Secrets & Snitches”

Episode twenty five- “The Test”

Episode twenty- six - Episode Title: “Ghosts in the Parking Lot”

Episode twenty -seven - “Sisters, Secrets & Spencer’s Showdown

Episode twenty eight - "A New Day at The Pitt"

Episode twenty nine -"A Day in the Life of the Robinavitch Family

Episode thirty - “The Saturday Choice”

Episode thirty-one - “A seat at the table”

Episode thirty two -“Kojo Appreciation Day”

Episode thirty three -ROBINAVITCH HOME

Episode thirty four -“Almost There”

Episode thirty five - “Welcome, Jake”

Episode thirty six - Final Chapter: “The Legacy Continues

Epilogue: A New Beginning

[mouse-wife]

Sorry I’m late to the HL2VRAI stream everyone, very rude of me.

Oh my god it’s the wrong stream. Sorry about that everyone. Could you excuse me for a second? I need to figure out what’s going on.

What the heck?

It’s a Breaking Bad stream?

Yeah, the trailer and opening were a fake out. It’s a prank.

On me?

No, you know. It’s just a joke!

What’s the joke exactly?

What do you mean?

HLVRAI doesn't sound anything like that. So what's the joke? That I thought I would get to see Benry and Bubby and Sunkist again? Because that's pretty funny actually. It would be a great day for me if I got to watch a stream and think Benry is gonna show up.

That's not the joke. It was just like.. y'know... what if it was HL2VRAI?

I think we covered what would happen Wayne, I'd get to see my pretty little Benry.

Okay everyone, I think it's time to move on and watch the stream. The fake out thing was stupid. Wayne, you wanna get us up to speed on what's happening in Breaking Bad?

Can I just ask? What's next?

Sorry?

What's the next joke? Bubby movie trailer that's actually Better Call Saul? Portal but the AI but it's really The Sopranos?

Book of Benry reveal trailer so good it make me think I'm mighty sick. I'm rushed to the hospital and I'm there for hours and miss my Tommy Coolata rp meetup?

Nobody wants you to miss your Tommy RP meetup.

Then what's the joke? That while I'm on the operating table Benry is rushed in because he got in a plane crash and has a metal bolt through his head, but he bleeds out in the waiting room. Because the doctors are too busy trying to explain to me what a joke trailer is? Is that the joke? On the man's widow?

You got him Wayne. You reeeally got him.

THIS IS A BETRAYAL ON LEVELS THAT NO ONE'S EVER SEEN!

Permission to go home, lie down, and watch HLVRAI Commentary so my face isn't beet red for my Tommy Coolatta rp meetup?

Yes, yes.

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #08 死

† chai †

"Sweetness doesn’t have a place in Jeon’s life, or at least it didn’t, until now. Because he’s been craving vanilla and cardamom and… chai? Hoseok is as annoying as always, and the fact that you may be at tonight’s celebration is… something he doesn’t quite know how to process."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6.3k

rating: mature

content: snippet into jeon’s head, jeon’s POV, jeon being emo, sad vibes, insomnia, mental health issues, pills, suicide jokes, j-hope being a good friend and also a good doctor, celebrations, booze, female friendships, moon being surprisingly good at mixing drinks

☠ author's note ☠

I can literally HEAR all your "I can fix him" screams from here and honestly? SAME. I, too, want to fix the emotionally constipated sniper who probably sleeps with his combat boots on (￣ω￣)

Here's the thing—I started this whole endeavor thinking I'd stick strictly to the protagonist's POV. Very tunnel vision, very "we only know what she knows" vibes. But then Jeon's broody ass started living rent-free in my head and I was like... fuck, I want to show what's happening in that disaster brain of his too???

I'm sure you know the feeling. When reading, you just NEED to know what the hell is going on behind those cold eyes and that jaw that could cut glass. But it gets tricky, especially when you're trying to do this whole slow reveal thing without dumping too much info at once.

And trust me, the character of Jeon is like a cocktail made by a bartender who's having an existential crisis—way too many conflicting ingredients, definitely going to give you a hangover, but you're still going to drink it because you hate yourself. Or love pain. Or both.

So I decided to include snippets of his POV sometimes. It feels necessary—some conversations need to happen when our protagonist isn't there, and some emotional baggage needs unpacking for you readers to understand what's actually going on (like back in chapter 2 when we got that glimpse into his head).

Now, I'd love to ask for your opinion on this whole POV-switching business, but let's be real—this story is pretty much gonna be completed by the time you're reading this author's note. So... I'm just gonna trust my chaotic writer instincts on this one.

And if you don't like getting glimpses into Jeon's beautiful disaster of a mind? Well... you're gonna like it today anyway (•̀ᴗ•́)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Jungkook doesn't do sweets. Never has.

His world operates in darker shades, tactical operations and precise calculations. Sweetness belongs to a different universe—one of bright colors and soft edges that he left behind long ago.

Sometimes a piece of candy appears in his pocket, usually after a meeting with JM who keeps bowls of them everywhere. He'll unwrap it absently, the crinkle of plastic echoing in his quiet office. Let it dissolve on his tongue while reviewing mission reports. The initial sweetness isn't unpleasant, stirring something old and forgotten in his chest.

But it never lasts.

The sugar becomes too much, coating his mouth like an unwelcome invasion. 

Cloying. 

Suffocating. 

He usually tosses the rest, wondering why he even bothered.

Lately though, something's changed. 

He finds himself reaching for vanilla cookies in the cafeteria. Ordering cardamom tea instead of his usual black coffee. Small impulses he can't explain, like his body's searching for something his mind hasn't caught up to yet.

And now?

Now the clock reads 4:16 AM. 

It's yet another night of minimal sleep—three and a half hours if he's being generous. The neon numbers mock him from his bedside table, surrounded by an array of pills that could probably tranquilize an elephant. 

All prescribed by J-Hope.

All increasingly useless.

Benzos. Narcotics. Nothing touches the corners of his insomnia anymore.

He's been fighting with his sheets for the past hour, tangled evidence of another failed attempt at rest. The black covers pool around his feet like spilled ink. His bedroom surrounds him in familiar darkness—walls painted to absorb light rather than reflect it, matching the void that lives behind his ribs.

The king-sized bed stretches out like empty territory, conquered by nothing but restless thoughts and the occasional phantom of memory. His room is a fortress built of clean lines and minimal decoration, a cell of his own design where even the shadows know better than to dance.

But lately, even this usually comforting solitude feels... different. Like something's missing. Something warm and sweet that he can't quite name.

Jungkook steps into the cold, the floor a shock against his bare feet. The shadows stretch across his bedroom, making the space feel hollow and vast at 4 AM. His movements are silent—years of training making even his insomnia graceful.

The lounge area of his wing feels abandoned. Empty sofas and tables wait like props on a stage, missing their usual cast of lieutenants and strategists. During the day, this space buzzes with mission plans and tactical discussions. Now it's just him and the quiet.

He closes the door to his wing, crossing into the neutral territory of the entrance hall. It's the DMZ between his domain and V's—a thought that makes his head hurt. Even at this hour, he can feel the shift in energy. 

V's presence lingers here like a bad taste.

The access card feels heavy in his hand. A small piece of tech that reminds him of his rank, his responsibilities. AD's security system responds with a soft beep, elevator doors sliding open on silent tracks. He steps in, presses the button for the common area. It's not his usual haunt—too exposed, too public—but lately he's been drawn there.

The descent gives him time to think. His mind drifts between fragments of nightmares and that strange, persistent craving for sweetness. It's been haunting him for weeks now, this urge for vanilla and cardamom. 

For chai and spices.

Maybe his brain is trying to balance out the bitterness that fills his days, or maybe he's finally losing it.

The elevator announces his arrival with a quiet ding. The corridor stretches before him, dark and empty. Somewhere down there is the snack area, and maybe, if he's lucky, a moment of peace.

He moves towards the corridor. Posters and artwork splash color across the cream walls—a jarring contrast to his stark quarters. He never quite understood the need for decoration, but the members insist on making the space "lived in." Whatever that means.

After 3 minutes, the common lounge sprawls before him, so different from his wing's militant precision. Here, rank means little. Divisions blur. The high ceiling should make the space feel cold, but somehow it doesn't. Maybe it's the worn leather sofas or the gaming consoles scattered about like abandoned toys. 

The air smells of polish and something unknown yet weirdly tranquil—comfort, maybe. 

He pushes that thought away.

Vending machines hum quietly in the snack area. Behind the glass, rows of sweets beckon. His eyes linger on a vanilla protein bar, then drift to some cardamom cookies. The craving hits again, piercing and mercilessly insistent.

But he's not alone.

AD slouches in a puff chair, bathed in the blue light of his game screen. His face twisted in its usual scowl, fingers jabbing at buttons with unnecessary force. 

The sight stirs something in Jungkook's chest—regret, maybe. 

Or guilt. 

Both emotions he'd rather not examine.

Their eyes meet. The air grows heavy. Unspoken words. Shared trauma.

The gaming console beeps softly. AD's character dies on screen. The silence that follows feels like an accusation.

Jungkook notes the way AD's blonde hair glints in the dim light as his eyes snap to Jungkook. His fingers still on the controller, body shifting into something more guarded, more alert. 

Jungkook feels his muscles tense automatically. The late-night sugar craving fades to background noise as AD's frosty stare pins him in place. 

Like a fucking needle cutting into skin. 

His hand hovers over the door handle, and he can't decide whether to stay or retreat. There's too much history here, too many buried regrets—and AD's presence brings it all rushing back—memories Jungkook would rather keep locked away with his other nightmares.

He immediately clocks the way AD's face contorts—sharp and bitter—and it makes Jungkook's chest tighten with familiar remorse. 

The younger man has never quite forgiven him. 

Probably never will.

Just as Jungkook decides to leave, to return to the safety of his isolation, AD's voice slices through the silence.

"No need for you to scurry off." The words barely mask the hostility underneath. "Was about to leave anyway."

Jungkook forces his shoulders to relax, though his jaw remains tight. Their paths cross rarely these days, and when they do, it's always like this—loaded silences and measured distance.

AD sets the controller down. Sharp. Angry. His movements are stiff as he rises, radiating enmity in waves that fill the common room. The scent of fresh lemons—AD's signature—grows stronger as he approaches.

But Jungkook doesn't move. 

Doesn't flinch. 

He deserves this, after all. This anger, this hostility, this remorse that reminds him of betrayals he can never make right.

The collision comes swift and deliberate—AD's shoulder slamming into his with force. The impact jolts through Jungkook's body, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the guilt that floods his system. His throat tightens with dusty apologies he knows AD would never accept.

He watches him stride away, the blonde's back rigid with years of accumulated anger. The sound of his footsteps fades down the corridor, leaving Jungkook alone with the quiet hum of the vending machines and his own thoughts.

There was a time when AD looked up to him, when their dynamic was different—better. Now all that remains is this bitter aftermath, this chasm Jungkook carved with his own choices. The memory of who they used to be makes the present cut deeper.

The gaming console's screen still glows, enhancing AD's absence in the empty chair he left behind. The 'GAME OVER' message blinks mockingly. Jungkook's fingers twitch, remembering late nights spent teaching AD new gaming strategies, back when trust wasn't such a foreign concept between them.

He should feel angry at the shoulder check; at the constant hostility that feels like a reprimand. 

But all he feels is hollow. 

Empty. 

Because how can he blame AD for hating him when he did this? When he destroyed something irreplaceable with decisions he can never take back?

He can't help but stare down the empty corridor where AD disappeared, the bitter taste of their encounter lingering longer than he'd like. His craving for sweetness feels almost desperate now—a childish attempt to wash away the guilt that gnaws at his chest.

His throat tightens. He swallows hard, trying to maintain the aloofness expected of Kkangpae's deadliest sniper. 

But it's hard, when AD's hostility has cracked something open inside him, letting old memories seep through like poison.

The vending machines hum quietly, offering a welcome distraction. He scans the selection without really seeing it, until—

Croissants.

Something shifts in his stomach at the sight of those packaged pastries. They're nothing like the fresh ones from the cafeteria, the ones you always grab during breakfast. Not that he's been watching. It's just that you're always there when he is, picking up one of those flaky pastries along with your coffee.

He's noticed, despite himself, how early you arrive to snag them before they run out. Same time as him, though his early mornings are spent running from nightmares rather than hunting down breakfast.

The memory of your routine feels oddly grounding after his encounter with AD. It's something simple, predictable. 

Unlike the mess of guilt and regret that follows him through these halls at night.

It's a strange comfort, this knowledge of your habits. 

One he doesn't understand.

One he probably doesn't deserve.

The scent of fresh lemons still lingers in the air, like a ghost of bridges burned and trust fractured. But as Jungkook stares at those artificially-made croissants, he finds himself thinking of chai tea instead.

He tears his gaze away, scanning other options until he spots a nutty protein bar. Practical. Sensible. The kind of choice the Chief of Tactical Assassinations should make. 

He jabs at the keypad hastily, and then, the machine whirs and drops his selection with a dull thud.

The wrapper crinkles in his grip as he retrieves it. Such a simple thing—choosing a late-night snack. No one gets hurt. No trust gets broken. No consequences ripple through the gang's hierarchy. 

Just him and a protein bar at 4 AM.

The common room feels different now that AD's gone. Quieter. Jungkook lets himself breathe, really breathe, for what feels like the first time since AD's shoulder slammed into his.

He should feel worse, probably. Should let the weight of past betrayals and broken friendships crush him like they usually do. But something about this moment—this stupid protein bar in his hand, the quiet of the room, the lingering thought of croissants and early mornings—makes everything feel a bit lighter.

His lips almost twitch into what could be a smile. It's weird, this tiny bubble of something in his chest. Almost like contentment. He doesn't examine it too closely, afraid it might shatter.

The corridors don't feel as suffocating as he makes his way back to his wing. The shadows seem less interested in reminding him of his sins. 

For now, in this small hour between night and dawn, he allows himself this moment of peace.

He probably doesn't deserve it. But for once, he takes it anyway.

Jungkook stares at his lunch without really seeing it. 

The cafeteria bustles around him, but he's carved out his own bubble of silence at the far end of a long table. It's better this way—no small talk, no pretending to care about division gossip.

His chopsticks push a piece of fish back and forth across his plate. The encounter with AD keeps replaying in his mind, each memory tasting bitter like the coffee he's been nursing for the past hour. Some wounds, he's learning, don't heal with time. They just scab over, waiting to be picked open again.

And then, a tray clatters across from him. 

J-Hope drops into the seat, his white medical coat slightly rumpled from what's probably been a busy morning in the infirmary. The doctor's eyes scan Jungkook's face with scrutiny, his mouth pulling into that familiar worried frown.

"You look like shit," J-Hope announces, ever the picture of bedside manner. "Two hours of sleep? Maybe less?"

Jungkook shrugs, still focused on mutilating his fish. "Don't count anymore."

"Those new meds I gave you—" J-Hope starts, unwrapping his sandwich with more force than necessary. "You're actually taking them, right?"

"They don't work." The words come out flat. "Nothing does."

"Jesus christ," J-Hope mumbles through a bite of sandwich. "Have you tried, I don't know, taking them before you spend six hours staring at your ceiling? Maybe with some tea?"

The concern in J-Hope's voice makes something twist in Jungkook's chest. 

He doesn't deserve this—the worry, the care, any of it. 

Not after everything. 

But J-Hope is one of the few people who still treats him like a person rather than a cautionary tale, so he tries to sound less dismissive when he responds.

"I don't need a lesson on how to take pills. They just don't work for me."

The doctor sets his sandwich down, eyebrows pulling together. A bit of lettuce falls out. "Look, I know you've built up tolerance, but we need to find something that works. You can't keep going like this."

"I'm fine." He's not, but he doesn't truly care. "Function better on less sleep anyway. More efficient."

"That's bullshit and you know it." J-Hope's voice rises slightly, anger seeping through. "You think I can't see what this is doing to you? The mood swings? The isolation? This isn't healthy, Jungkook."

Jungkook flinches at the use of his real name. "I don't need a lecture. I'm handling it."

"Oh yeah, real healthy coping strategy." J-Hope's scoff holds more concern than mockery. "Just pretend everything's fine while you run yourself into the ground."

Exhaustion weighs heavy on Jungkook's bones. Three hours of sleep and memories of AD's hostility from last night make his tongue looser than usual. "Maybe you should prescribe me your finest benzos. Let me wash them down with vodka. That ought to do the trick."

The slam of J-Hope's palm against the table makes the silverware jump. Several heads turn their way, but Jungkook can't bring himself to care. 

"If you want to kill yourself," J-Hope's voice is deadly quiet, trembling with rage, "don't you dare make it my prescription."

The cafeteria suddenly feels too small, too crowded. J-Hope's worry tastes bitter in the back of Jungkook's throat, mixing with guilt he doesn't have the energy to process. He shouldn't have said that—shouldn't have joked about something so dark. But three hours of sleep and a lifetime of regrets make it hard to care about much of anything anymore.

Silence stretches between them. Jungkook stares at his mangled fish, not really eating anymore. He knows what's coming—J-Hope never could leave well enough alone.

The doctor's voice softens, trying a different approach. "Have you considered meditation? Or maybe some calming music? I know a sleep therapist who—"

"I don't need a damn therapist." Jungkook's tongue plays with his lip ring, a nervous habit he can't shake. 

The metal tastes bitter, or maybe that's just the exhaustion talking.

Because J-Hope is wrong. Therapy won't fix this. Pills won't fix this. Nothing can erase what happened, what he let happen. Some stains don't wash out, no matter how hard you scrub.

"Look, Jungkook." J-Hope uses his real name again, and his throat constricts uncontrollably. "Ever since what happened with—"

"Don't." The word comes out sharp enough to cut.

J-Hope holds his gaze, unflinching. "You can't keep punishing yourself forever."

"I'm not discussing this." His voice turns to steel, matching the cold weight that's made a home in his chest.

Another sigh from J-Hope as he leans back. "Fine. But you know where to find me when you're ready to actually try and fix this."

Jungkook's jaw clenches so hard it hurts, a muscle jumping under his skin. But he stays quiet. What's the point of arguing when J-Hope doesn't understand? 

Some things aren't meant to be fixed. 

Some people don't deserve to be.

Jungkook pushes his half-eaten lunch away with a tired sigh. He can feel it coming—the same conversation they have every year.

"So," J-Hope starts, right on cue. "Making an appearance tonight or pulling your usual disappearing act?" He peers at Jungkook over his coffee mug, eyes too knowing for comfort.

"Haven't decided." The words come out clipped, because he feels already exhausted by the mere thought of socializing.

"You should come." J-Hope takes a careful sip. "Might help to interact with actual humans instead of just your rifle for a change."

"I interact plenty." It sounds defensive even to his own ears.

"Glaring at people from across the room doesn't count as interaction." J-Hope's voice is dry as desert sand. "Neither does grunting one-word responses."

Jungkook's tongue finds his lip ring, playing with it absently. "It's just a casual thing. Not mandatory."

"Right, just our leader's rise to power celebration. Totally insignificant." The doctor's sarcasm could cut glass. "Definitely not something a Council member should show face at."

"RM himself said it's not formal." 

"Maybe not officially. But you know what it means to everyone else. Especially the newer ones—shows them what we're about, what matters to us."

Newer ones. The words make him hold his breath. He thinks of Yunjin's bright enthusiasm, of your sharp wit. Of how you'll probably be there tonight.

The thought doesn't help him decide whether he wants to go more, or run faster in the opposite direction.

"You seem perfectly capable of handling traditions without me."

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook." The doctor's frustration bleeds through. "This isn't about tradition. It's about you actually being part of the team for once. Don't you ever get tired of the whole lone wolf act?"

Something bitter rises in Jungkook's throat. His tongue presses against his cheek—a habit from childhood he never quite shook.

Silence. He takes a slow breath, measuring his words. 

"I'll think about showing up."

It's not a yes, but J-Hope takes what he can get. The doctor's shoulders relax slightly as he leans back, apparently satisfied with even this crumb of compliance.

"Got patients waiting," J-Hope says, collecting his things. The coffee mug scrapes against the tray. "Try to sleep before tonight, yeah?"

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound, already drifting into thoughts of empty corridors and quiet corners where he won't have to pretend to be social. Where he won't have to see AD's hatred or V's cruel smile. Where he won't have to watch you move through the crowd, chai-scented and d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ irrelevant.

J-Hope's footsteps fade into the cafeteria buzz, leaving Jungkook alone with his cold coffee and colder thoughts. 

Another conversation that changes nothing, fixes nothing.

Just like everything else in his life.

"What?"

The word tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

Smooth, real smooth.

Chaewon snorts, eyes crinkling. "Right, keep forgetting you're still a baby gang member. Tonight's the whole 'RM took over this shitshow' party."

You frown, because seriously? Four months in and you're just now hearing about this? Some Seduction Division recruit you are.

"It's not a big deal," Chaewon adds, probably seeing the confusion on your face. "RM didn't even start it. We just got drunk on the first anniversary and now it's a thing."

Eunchae pops her head between you and Chaewon, her light brown hair tickling your cheek. "Plus, you know. Give gang members an excuse to drink and we'll run with it."

You lean back against the couch, letting your head fall back softly. 

Great. 

Another Kkangpae tradition you and Yunjin missed the memo on. At this rate, you'll still be the clueless newbies when you're both grey and wrinkled.

"So what, we just show up and get wasted?" you ask, trying to sound casual. Like you're not low-key freaking out about what to wear or how to act around the higher-ups when they're three sheets to the wind.

Chaewon shrugs, picking at her nails. "Pretty much. Some people get all fancy, others come in sweatpants. It's not like RM gives a shit either way."

A flash of bubblegum pink catches your eye. Yunjin shuffles in, hair wrapped in a towel and dripping onto her shoulders. Perfect timing, as always.

"Did someone say alcohol?" She plops down on the sofa arm, water droplets flying everywhere. "Because I'm not playing nurse again tonight."

"That was one time!" Eunchae's voice pitches up in defense. "And that mark needed me to drink!"

Kazuha snorts. "You could've said no."

"To free drinks?" Eunchae spins around, hand on her chest like she's been mortally wounded. "In this economy?"

"She's got a point," Sakura drawls from her sprawl across the couch. Her long legs dangle over the armrest, taking up way too much space.

Yunjin tugs at her towel, rolling her eyes. "Well, don't come crying to me when you're hugging the toilet later."

You can't help but laugh. These idiots are really your team now. "I take it parties get pretty wild around here?"

"Oh honey." Kazuha's lips twitch. "There's a reason strip poker got banned."

"I'm sorry, what?" Your eyes go wide. Because what.

"It was brief but iconic." Eunchae grins, nudging your shoulder. "Sakura tried to slide across a table."

"And I would've made it!" Sakura calls out, not even bothering to lift her head. "That loose board was sabotage, I swear."

"Sure, blame the table." Eunchae turns to you with a conspiratorial wink. "Just wait till you see what happens when someone breaks out the tequila."

You raise an eyebrow, already mentally noting which Council members to avoid when the drinks start flowing. 

"Thanks for the warning. I'll stay away from any furniture surfing attempts."

Your teammates' laughter fills the room, and something warm blooms in your chest. It's weird how these chaotic idiots have become your f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ friends in just four months.

Chaewon leans back, crossing her legs. "Tonight's pretty chill though. Eat, drink, try not to pass out in a bush somewhere."

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Eunchae bounces in her seat like an overexcited golden retriever.

"Open field, 8 PM." Chaewon's voice shifts into what you've dubbed her 'mom tone.' "We're doing BBQ, and there'll be enough booze to knock out a small army. Wear whatever, but bundle up—it gets cold as balls out there."

"That's two hours from now!" Eunchae flops dramatically across the couch. "Two whole hours. I'm starving now."

"Is food literally all you think about?" Kazuha rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in her tone.

"I could think about other things." Eunchae wiggles her eyebrows. "But food's never disappointed me like men do."

You snort at that. She's not wrong. In your four months here, you've learned (mostly from Yunjin's gossip) that Kkangpae men are like a box of chocolates—mostly bitter, occasionally nutty, and always complicated.

The girls dissolve into giggles again, and you find yourself joining in. Maybe it's the promise of alcohol, or maybe it's just the way these dorks make even a deadly criminal organization feel weirdly homey, but you're actually looking forward to tonight.

God help you.

It's 8:10 PM when you finally head out. You went with comfy over fancy—oversized grey hoodie over a white turtleneck, because fuck freezing to death. The thermal lining is probably the best purchase you've made since joining Kkangpae. That, and these loose jeans that actually have functional pockets.

A flash of pink appears in your peripheral vision before Yunjin loops her arm through yours, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Aren't you excited?" She bounces on her toes like a kid with a sugar rush. "I heard these parties are insane!"

You can't help but laugh. Her enthusiasm is s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ infectious. But the elevator dings before you can respond, doors sliding open to reveal—oh.

V lounges inside, arm draped over JM's shoulders like the Finance Chief is his personal armrest. JM seems unbothered, wearing that patient smile he gets when dealing with V's... everything. His salmon-colored hair looks soft under the elevator lights.

"Ladiessssss!" V draws out the word like he's auditioning for Parseltongue lessons. He shifts to make room, though his arm stays firmly around JM. "Coming to party with us common folk?"

"Free food's free food." You shrug, stepping in beside Yunjin who's still clinging to your arm.

She giggles at your response, squeezing your arm tighter. You catch JM's eye and nod—proper respect for a Council member and all that. He returns it with a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle behind his round glasses.

The elevator feels smaller with four people, especially when one of them is V taking up space like it's his job. But hey, at least it's not AD. Or worse, J̶e̶o̶n̶ certain other Council members.

"Evening, JM." You smile at him, because it's hard not to. His aura always feels like a warm blanket—the complete opposite of V's chaotic energy.

"Good evening." JM's voice is soft, gentle. "I hope the night finds you well."

"What is this, fucking Shakespeare?" V waves his hand dismissively. "Save the fancy talk for business hours. Tonight's for getting wasted and making bad decisions. Luckily we will be free of certain judgemental stares."

"V." JM's warning comes with a poorly hidden smile.

"What? Just saying what everyone thinks." V grins, all teeth. "Not my fault someone walks around like they've got a steel rod up their ass."

"Pretty sure that's just the natural reaction to dealing with you for years." The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Wow. Wow." V pretends you've stabbed him in the chest. "Already picking sides? And here I thought we were gonna be besties."

You roll your eyes. "Not picking sides. Just speaking from personal experience."

"Brief experience," he corrects, wagging a finger at you. "You haven't seen all my charms yet. I grow on people, like mold."

"That's... not the selling point you think it is."

Finally the metallic doors open to the ground floor. Through the glass gates, you can see the open field where everyone's gathering. The sky's already dark, stars peeking through like tiny paint droplets.

Here goes nothing.

The field buzzes with activity, gang members scattered around like the stars peppered across the night sky. A bonfire crackles in the middle, throwing warm light over everyone's faces. The smell of BBQ makes your stomach growl—you haven't eaten since lunch.

RM's white hair catches the firelight, making him look almost ethereal. It's weird seeing him like this, gesturing animatedly as he talks. The fearsome leader of Kkangpae, actually laughing. Who knew?

Moon hovers by the drinks, playing bartender—although still maintaining his usual polite efficiency. Though tonight his smile seems more genuine, less 'I'm being nice because I'm your superior' and more 'want another beer?'

Jessi and Chaewon huddle together near the fire, probably plotting world domination or sharing gossip. The flames dance in Jessi's red hair while Chaewon leans in close, looking more relaxed than you've ever seen her during training.

V drags JM toward the grill, still attached to him like a very loud, very clingy octopus. "Make way for the master chefs!" he hollers, making JM shake his head with fond exasperation.

Your eyes scan the crowd before you can stop yourself. Looking for broad shoulders in black leather, for silver piercings catching firelight. For that scent of pine and wood that's become way too f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶r̶ noticeable lately.

But Jeon isn't here.

You feel something waver in your chest—disappointment maybe, or just hunger. 

Yeah, definitely hunger. 

You push the thought away and focus on the party. There's food and alcohol and your friends are here. That's what matters.

Yunjin tugs you toward the bonfire, and god, the warmth feels good after the castle's perpetual AC chill. It's weird seeing everyone so relaxed—like someone hit pause on all the gang politics and murder plots for one night.

You sink onto a log bench, letting the fire chase away the evening cold. The flames bathe everyone in soft gold, making even the most hardened killers look almost n̶i̶c̶e̶ normal for once.

J-Hope appears through the crowd like a ghost in his white medical coat, looking like he's about to collapse. The bags under his eyes have bags of their own, but he's still got that manic energy that keeps him running on fumes and spite.

He drops onto the bench nearby with a groan that sounds like his soul trying to escape. The scent of sandalwood follows him, mixing with woodsmoke.

"Rough day?" you ask, eyeing his very out-of-place doctor getup.

His laugh comes out more like a wheeze. "You could say that." He waves vaguely at his coat. "Didn't exactly get a wardrobe change break."

Yunjin giggles beside you, still clutching your arm like a pink-haired koala.

Your eyes scan the crowd again, definitely not looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ particular. "Where's the rest of the Council?"

"Well," J-Hope snorts, "AD's busy losing at League of Legends. Says he'll grace us with his presence when he's done raging at his screen."

"And Jeon?" The question slips out. Smooth. 

J-Hope answers your question with a nod toward the field entrance. Your eyes follow and—oh.

Jeon strides in with Takama, both of them loaded down with enough meat to feed a small country. The firelight catches on his silver piercings, and fuck, he shouldn't look this good just carrying groceries. Your heart does that stupid little skip thing it's been doing lately whenever he's around.

But it's like... something's different about him tonight. The usual ice-prince vibe is dialed down a notch, replaced by something almost... approachable.

Unapproachably approachable.

Takama actually has him engaged in conversation—a miracle in itself. His shaved head immediately grabs your attention as he says something that makes Jeon relax slightly.

They drop the meat by the grill, and you notice how Jeon's eyes sweep across the crowd. It's quick, casual, but you catch it anyway. There's something searching in his gaze, like he's looking for... well. Probably just checking the perimeter or whatever security shit he does.

You turn back to J-Hope, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks. "Even party night comes with duties, huh?"

"That's Kkangpae for you." J-Hope's voice carries a touch of dry humor. "We don't do proper days off here."

He's right. Even now, surrounded by laughter and firelight and the promise of good food, you're all still playing your parts. Though watching Jeon handle those heavy bags like they're nothing makes you think some roles aren't so bad to watch.

Get it together. 

You sink deeper into the bench, letting the bonfire's warmth seep into your bones. The sound of laughter and sizzling meat hovers around you; everyone's guard lowered just a fraction under the stars.

Takama then leads Jeon toward the fire, some members sprawled out on the grass around them like lazy cats. The deputy's eyes find yours, his smile genuine—a rare sight in your line of work.

"Ankle doing better?" he asks, and you're touched he remembers.

"All healed up, thanks." You return his smile, because Takama's one of the few higher-ups who actually seems to give a shit about the recruits.

Jeon just nods at you, dark eyes meeting yours for a split second before sliding away. You're starting to notice is his thing—minimal effort, maximum impact. Your skin prickles despite the fire's heat.

The conversation naturally flows around you, mission stories and inside jokes mixing seamlessly even between different divisions. You half-listen, too aware of Jeon's presence at the edge of the group. He pulls out his cigarettes with those r̶i̶d̶i̶c̶u̶l̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ steady hands, placing one between his pierced lips in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

But before he can light up, J-Hope shoots him a look that could freeze hell. Some silent doctor-patient communication passes between them, and Jeon clicks his tongue, shoving the cigarette back in its pack. Frustration flashes across his face before he quickly shoves it down. 

But you catch yourself studying him—the way his fingers fidget with the lighter he can't use, how his jaw clenches when he's annoyed. Little details that paint a picture of the man behind the cold exterior. 

Not that you're paying special attention or anything.

Moon's got a nice little bar setup going by the drinks station. You could use something to take the edge off this weird night. So you stand up, already missing the bonfire's warmth whilst stretching your arms above your head.

"Getting drinks," you tell Yunjin, who's deep in conversation with some other recruits. "Want anything?"

Her eyes light up. "Beer, please!"

You glance at Takama, still chatting with his boss. "Beer run. You in?"

"That'd be great, thanks." His smile is genuinely warm.

You look at the doctor—J-Hope's been quiet, watching everything with those too-observant eyes—and ask him too. 

"Can I grab you something?"

"I don't drink." His tone is light but final. Like a door closing.

You nod, not pushing it. Your eyes drift to Jeon last, catching him staring into the flames like they hold all life's answers. He meets your gaze for a second, and you'd swear something unreadable flickering across his face before he looks away.

"Whisky on the rocks," he mutters, barely audible over the crackling fire.

You bite back a smile. Of course he drinks whisky. Probably the expensive kind too, the pretentious a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ guy.

Moon's showing off his bartending skills to an impressed crowd when you approach. Time to see if the Deputy Commander makes drinks as precisely as he runs operations.

His back is turned to you as you approach, mixing something that probably has enough alcohol to knock out a horse. But he moves confidently, like he's done this a thousand times before.

When he finally finishes serving another member, you step up. His serious bartender face melts into something more welcoming.

"What can I get you?" He wipes his hands on a towel, all proper and polite as usual.

"Vodka lemonade for me," you say. "Plus whisky on the rocks and two beers for the others."

He nods, already reaching for bottles. "Coming right up."

You watch him work, impressed despite yourself. "Where'd you learn all this fancy mixing stuff?"

"Been around a while," he chuckles, measuring vodka into a shaker. "It's useful—nothing settles gang politics like a good drink."

"You're really good at this," you say, leaning against the counter. "Like, seriously good."

His hands pause for a split second. A small smile tugs at his lips. 

"Thanks. It's an old passion. Actually wanted to open my own bar once—somewhere quiet, away from all..." He gestures vaguely at the chaos around you.

"That's... not what I expected." You watch him pour whisky over ice with perfect precision. 

"Life's funny that way." He slices a lemon expertly. "We all had different plans before this. Different dreams. But here we are."

Something in his voice makes you pause—because yeah, it's so easy to forget sometimes that everyone here has a story, a before. Even Moon, with his perfect posture and formal suits, had different dreams once.

The thought sits heavy in your chest as he lines up your drinks. You wonder what dreams everyone else gave up to end up here, in a criminal organization's makeshift bar under the stars.

"What about you?" Moon asks, stirring your drink now. "Got any derailed dreams?"

You consider the question, because it feels surreal to be having this kind of talk with the Deputy Commander—usually conversations here stick to missions and murder plots.

"Pretty sure we all left something behind when we joined." The words come out slower than intended. "Different paths all leading to the same fucked up destination, right?"

Moon hands you the drinks, and his expression is softer. "That's gang life for you. Trade in your old self, get a new family and some trauma in return."

"Any regrets?"

He gets this far-away look, like he's seeing something beyond the makeshift bar. Then he shakes his head. 

"Made my choice. Even the darkest paths have their bright spots."

You take the drinks, mentally filing away this unexpectedly deep conversation with Kkangpae's second-in-command. Who knew he had a philosophical side under all that formality?

"Thanks for the drinks. And the..." You gesture vaguely with your chin, since your hands are full. "This whole thing."

His smile actually reaches his eyes this time. "Anytime. Now go before those drinks get warm."

"You joining us later?"

"Once dinner's ready." He's already turning to help another member.

You nod, somehow managing to stuff the beer cans in your hoodie pocket while balancing two glasses. The bonfire calls you back, its warmth promising more interesting conversations ahead.

Though probably none as surprising as this one.

next | index

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[bonesvoid]

Flesh & Blood / Metal & Machine

word count: 3.2k

pairing: zaun doctor!viktor x pit fighter!reader

contains: explicit content relating to violence and injury, death of multiple children, mentions of mass death, mentions of police (enforcer) brutality, reader has PTSD (PTSD flashbacks), medical trauma, childhood friends to strangers to lovers, drugs, illusion to drug abuse, HELLA angst, there's a somewhat fluff ending?, there's a scene that somewhat parallels the jinx shimmer operation scene so heads up to that

summary: you have a history with dr. viktor reveck, one that spans at least a decade. as a pit fighter, you frequent his small clinic for treatment, but after a particularly brutal fight, viktor's suggestion of you retiring and making a better life for yourself triggers heavy memories of your life before, your prosthetics a painful reminder of how you ended up in the pits

a/n: wooo this is a heavy one, but i'm very proud of it. remember to like, comment, and reblog! love you lots <3

Blood drips from your nose like a leaky faucet, your lip split in half. Your left eye is black and blue beyond recognition, barely able to see the man donned in white before you. Dr. Viktor Reveck’s gloved hands nimbly sew the last of the stitches on your scalp, looping the surgical thread and tightening it in place.

“Have you ever considered retiring?” his accent punctures through his words, as he passes you an ice pack. You hold it against your swollen eye and state to the doctor, “I got bills to pay, Doc. Besides,” you flash a grin, one of your fangs cracked from a previous fight, “Everyone loves me in the pit!”

“I’m well aware,” answers Viktor. He wraps up some gauze and shoves it up your bleeding nose, “You’re a top contender in the Pits, given how many of your blooded and bruised opponents I’ve seen over the years,” he removes his glasses, honey amber irises glistening under the fluorescent examination lamp, and pinches the bridge of his hooked nose, “However, you must admit that you’re…” he trails off.

“That I’m getting slow?” you hum, nonchalant. Viktor nods, “Yes, slow. Your words, not mine.”

“I know that’s what you’re thinking,” you huff, hopping off the rickety examination table, the crude metal joints in your prosthetic leg clicking with each step, “I could’ve dodged that hook, I could’ve blocked that kick, I could’ve gotten up sooner,” you tie any loose hairs back from your face, “Got any pain meds for me to take the meantime?”

“Unfortunately, my supply has been low,” the doctor remarks. He approaches his small desk and opens up the bottom drawer, “Other than Shimmer, I have a day’s worth of Oxy. Will that satisfy you?”

“I’ll take the Shimmer,” you jest. Viktor’s expression darkens at your ill-timed joke, “You know what you promised me,” he grabs a small pill bottle and slams the drawer close, locking it up with a rusty key. Viktor tosses the bottle of Oxy to you, “No Shimmer. You’re better than that.”

“Am I?” you question, pocketing the bottle in your boxing shorts, “What defines ‘better’ in this hellhole?” a bitter laugh escapes your sore vocal chords, too many hours spent screaming for the delight of the crowd.

Viktor sighs and puts his glasses back on, the lenses clouded from the occasional blood splatter. He walks over to you, the soft tapping of his cane accompanying his footsteps, and places a hand against your unharmed cheek, “Someone like you,” his voice is strangely soft, almost tender, “Someone who can get out of here.”

“Me? Getting out of here?” you scoff at the idea of vacating Zaun, “I don’t think any Pilties are interested in a beast like me,” your canines shine under the exam room lights, sharp and wolf-like, “There ain’t a place for me in Topside, Vik. If anything, you’re the one who can make it out of here.”

“My priorities lie with Zaun,” he retorts, “There’s enough doctors in Piltover.”

“But they get paid better,” you fire back, removing the used up gauze from your nose and discarding it in the trash can, “They have nice houses and fancy clothes and- Stop,” the doctor cuts you off, “My priorities like with Zaun.”

You size Viktor up, tilting your head with innate curiosity, “What’s with you?”

“What’s with me?” he repeats.

“You had every chance to leave,” your voice drops to a whisper. You take a few steps towards Viktor until you are eye to eye with one another. Viktor stares at you, eyes slightly wide and pupils enlarged, and you slam your hand against the wall, the strength of the prosthetic nearly putting a hole through the shoddy wall, “What keeps you here?”

“You know what does.”

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

Over the years, you and Dr. Viktor Reveck had developed an odd relationship. Viktor was always a strange fellow; yet, as estranged childhood friends, you once held a small crush on the brillant boy who frequented the sludgy waters closest to the looming walls of Piltover. You admired his intelligence and his creativity, not to mention his cute face. Yet, you two would drift away, as Viktor left to study under the tutelage of a Dr. Corin Reveck and you enlisted into the mining corps to make a honest living.

Mining was hard labor, but it offered you security and a means of living. It even offered you a chance for love with a fellow miner named Erik, who you wed only a year after you met. The two of you, like many Zaunite miners, dreamt of a better world, a free Zaun, that you and the generations after could partake in. 

You were barely in your twenties when the Revolution failed, many of your own friends were killed by Enforcers for the crime of fighting for freedom. Erik shielded you from an Enforcer bullet, using his last words to tell you to run. The revolutionaries collapsed under the weight of their own guilt, children had been orphaned, and a mining accident left your left hand paralyzed. Any hope for a free Zaun died on that bridge.

It was only a few months after the attempted revolution that you received the worst news: you were pregnant. Regardless if your hand was paralyzed or not, you couldn’t rejoin the mining corps while pregnant–the fumes and coal dust were too dangerous for a fetus–so you resorted to finding your old co-worker and former revolution leader, Vander. He offered you a job as a barkeep at his bar The Last Drop and housing in exchange to help him raise four children orphaned by the Enforcers’ hand during the Revolution.

Little Vi, Powder, Claggor, and Mylo became your kids and with Vander, the six of you enjoyed nights of joy, rage, quiet, and so on. Those kids were your pride and joy, a core element to your soul. Yet, it wasn’t long before your makeshift family of six turned into one of seven, as you delivered your baby girl Sophia with the help of the brothel manager Babette and Vander. 

With the kids entering their teens, you were able to get the assistance you needed to raise Sophia properly. By the time she could walk and talk, Sophia knew the basics of fighting from Claggor and Vi, how to scavenge from Mylo, and ways to invent by Powder. A sad smile would always grace your lips whenever you saw the two of them tinkering together, it reminded you of your long absent friend Viktor. 

However, things quickly unraveled on the night Vi attempted to turn herself in for the explosion at one of the Academy District’s apartments in Piltover. You were left to tend to the children when Vander left to rescue Vi, you prayed to the Gods for their safe return. Hours went by before someone returned, Vi. She explained that Silco and something monstrous kidnapped Vander and took him to the abandoned cannery. Vi, Claggor, and Mylo assembled them to save Vander, but you told them that they couldn’t go alone. 

“I can fight!” eleven year old Powder exclaimed to you, as you set four year old Sophia next to her. You offered a restricted frown and informed her, “I know you can, Powder. You’re tough and strong, but I need you to watch Sophia,” you pressed your forehead against Powder’s, “Protect your baby sister. That’s your job, okay?”

“Okay…” she grumbled, pouting and crossing her arms. You ruffled Powder's hair and blew her a kiss, squatting down to see your daughter, “Hi, Soph,” you greeted with such a special kindness and love in your voice. 

“Mama!” she exclaimed in retort, holding out her hands to you, “Where are you gonna?” 

You sit down and pull Sophia onto your lap, tickling her stomach. She lets out squeals and laughs, as you tickle her to your heart’s content. You finished the tickling with a kiss to Sophia’s temple, “I have to go help your Pa, he’s in trouble,” you held her tight in your arms, “You and Powder are too young to come with, but I promise that we will be back as soon as we can!”

“Okay!” answered Sophia, resting her head against your chest, “Bye-bye, Mama.”

“Bye-bye, Sophia,” you murmured and touched your forehead to hers, “I love you.”

“I love you!” she flashed you her gummy baby-toothed smile. With one last hug, you tucked both Powder and Sophia in bed and bid them farewell for the night, exiting the basement with Vi and your boys in tow. 

Everything afterwards came to you in flashes. You remembered arriving at the abandoned cannery, finding Vander tied up; you remember Mylo’s lockpicking and Claggor working his way through the wall to make an escape. The four of you encountered the monster Vi spoke of; a mutated being glowing with purple veins, barely resembling a human. You watched Vi go toe to toe with Silco’s goons like a true warrior, only to get body-slammed by the monster. 

Then the explosion happened.

A catalyst of bright blue puffs vibrated throughout the factory, shaking the foundation. You barely had time to react, opting to shield the nearest person to you, Vi. Chunks of the wall fell off and crushed Claggor, his goggles flying off and splattered with blood. Debris and broken machine exploded towards Mylo, as a pole impaled him and more broken wall fell to crush him. You couldn’t shield all of Vi, as her lower half got trapped under rubble; with all the strength you had, you attempted to lift the rubble off her, only for a large piece to pulverize your hand. 

“Mama!”

Sophia’s voice rings out to you, “Sophia!” you yelled back. Why is she here?! Why!? With two of your kids dead and another trapped, you didn’t know what to do. You had to do something.

“Vi!” you called out to the redhead, “Hang on!” you tug at your hand, trying to free it from the rubble, but to no avail. Desperate, you reached for your small axe from your side and with a scream, you slammed it down on your wrist, cutting through damaged flesh until you cut off your hand. With a missing hand and heavy bleeding, you left the torture room and onto the catwalk, scanning the fiery remains of the cannery for Sophia. 

“Mama!” there she was, on a ledge by the window. With as much speed as your weak body could muster, you sprinted over to your daughter and caught her in your arms. With Sophia in hand, you ran back towards where Vi was being held, only to see another mutated beast ahead of you. It turned its head to you and you gasped, “Vander.”

A final explosion reverberated through the cannery, the most powerful of them all. Vander slammed through the wall with Vi and you followed, only to trip over some rubble, “NO!” you cried out, as you lost your grasp on Sophia and she spun out of your reach.

“MAMA!” she wailed, crawling back towards you. An eerie clicking of a toy rang through your ears, but you had no time to think about it.

The blue light of the explosion made contact with one of your legs and eradicated every part of it from skin to bone. The world slowed down, as Sophia held her hand out to you, “Mama!” you powered through the pain and grabbed her again, throwing the two of you out the wall. 

You wrapped yourself as tight as you could around Sophia, as you fell from the second story. The corpse of Vander softened the fall and you gasped for air, still clinging on Sophia, “VI! VI, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

“H- Here!” she answered, tears rolling down her cheeks at the sight of Vander’s corpse. You pulled her into an embrace, “Oh, Vi, baby, I’m so so so- Mama…” the weak croak of your daughter interrupted your condolences. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked Sophia. She touches her multi-patterned dress, a large piece of glass protruding from her abdomen, “No…” you collapsed to the ground, “No, no! It’s gonna be okay, baby! Mama’s gonna fix you! Vi- Vi-” you yelled for the redhead, only to see her missing. In the distance, you see Powder with Silco and his crew, her sobs piercing the air, “Powder! Powder-” 

You felt a prick against your neck and exhaustion took over your body, falling prone on the muddy ground. Your eyes flutter with sleepiness, your daughter still in your arms. A figure in black picked her up and you tried to scream, but your vocal chords were inoperable. The figure removed the shard from Sophia’s stomach and handed her back to you, allowing you to properly hug her. Blood stained your clothes, as you embraced your dying daughter.

“Love you… Mama…”

Your daughter’s last words, the final echoes of a life-altering night.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

You heard someone call out your name, accompanied by the whining of equipment. Flashes of a ruffled brunette in a lab coat and goggles crossed your vision. Violent, hot pain suddenly engulfed you, as your screams were drowned out by the equipment. You thrashed against your restraints, tied down to a table. Your bloodshot eyes zoned in on the figure in the lab coat, trying to see who they were or where you were.

“I’m sorry,” the person in the lab coat spoke up, hovering by your left side. Their words were deepened by a strong accent. They placed an oxygen mask over your face and turned on the gas canister, forcing you to inhale an oddly vanilla gas.

“Vik…” you croaked, “Viktor…” you shut your eyes closed, falling unconscious once more.

・・・・☆・・・・☆ ・・・

“Because I’m your favorite creation,” you chuckle, pulling your prosthetic hand back, “You built me anew,” your prosthetic clicks and cracks when you move the joints, chipped titanium stained with various people’s blood from that night’s opponents, “You were even kind enough to equip me with the good stuff,” you spin the prosthetic around and extend the joints, “Titanium. That must’ve cost you a pretty coin.”

“You,” Viktor weaves out of your grasp and sits down at his desk, “You would have died if I had not intervened,” 

His words make your blood boil like bubbling pits of lava; you kick your prosthetic leg upward and smash it against the side of Viktor’s leg, embedding itself into the metal overhead cabinets, “I should have. I should have died with my daughter.”

“She’s-” you cut him off with a grab at his chin, digging your human nails into his skin, “You don’t speak her name, don’t utter a syllable of her name in my presence.”

Your debut into pit-fighting was spurred on by the death of your daughter and other loved ones during the cannery explosion, The Last Drop now under the control of Silco and the Chem-Barons reeking havoc on the streets of Zaun. After the implementation of your prosthetics, you were nursed back to health with Viktor and Dr. Corin Reveck–now a disfigured man, but not lacking in his genius–through rehab and modifications. Yet, you had no prospects, no means of living without your baby girl. It was only when you saw a flyer for new fighters needed in the Pits that you regained somewhat of a spark, albeit a violent one.

“Why didn’t you leave me?” you pull your leg back and plop down on Viktor’s lap, dangerously close to the doctor’s face, his pretty moles on display for you, “Why didn’t you let me die?” you clench your fists, fighting back tears.

To your surprise, Viktor sets his hand against your back and strokes it, bony fingers cold against your hot skin. Tears spill from your one functioning eye, as you collapse into Viktor’s arms, “Why didn’t you let me die!?”

“I-” he inhales, wrapping his arms around your waist. Your head finds its way into the crook of the doctor’s neck, a perfect fit. He exhales, “I love you.”

“Wh- What?” you stammer, the adrenaline from your earlier fight finally wearing off.

“I love you,” he whispers again, “I tried to save both of you.”

“You did?” you ask, tears dropping onto Viktor’s button down.

“S- She didn’t make it to the lab,” he croaks, as he rubs your back, “She lost too much blood that doing a transfusion wouldn’t have saved her,” tears form in Viktor’s eyes, “She looked so much like you when we were kids.”

“She was my baby…” you stifle back a sob, “The last part of my husband’s love. I’m alone.”

“No, you’re not alone,” Viktor tilts your chin up, his honey amber irises gazing into yours, “I can take care of you. It may not be much, but you can have your second chance. That’s why I- I fixed you, so you try again. They’re gone, but you’re still here. You must live on for them.”

You bury your face into Viktor’s chest, “I feel like a beast.”

“Then let’s make a new life,” Viktor hugs you tightly, “You and me. No pit fighting, no more violence, no more pain,” he touches his forehead to yours, “Come with me, we can start fresh, together.”

You pull back for a moment and cup Viktor’s hand with your hands, one human and one machine. Your fingers–flesh and metal–stroke his cheeks and you smile through your tears, “As a kid, I always had a crush on you, Vik,” you laugh softly, “But then you left with Dr. Reveck and I had to move on.”

“I never did,” he confesses, “You were all I thought about when I was under Reveck’s care. After completing my training with him, I tried finding you, but by that time, you were married and I didn’t- I couldn’t interfere with that.”

“Then the Revolution happened,” you add on.

Viktor nods, “Then the Revolution happened. I treated so many wounded and I- I thought you were among the casualties when I saw your husband’s body. I couldn’t find you, so I assumed the worst.”

“Erik saved my life,” you explained, “Then I found out that I was-” your voice shakes, “I couldn’t return to the mines, so my friend Vander took me in. I became a mother, I was a good mother,” you wipe away tears, “I lost all my kids–all my babies–that night.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs in your ear, brushing your hair with his pale fingers, “I wish- I wish- I could fix that, but I can’t.” 

You sniffle back some snot and reply, “I know,” you dry your face of any remaining tears, “But we must live on for them, right?”

“Right,” he confirms.

You hop off Viktor’s lap and extend your hands out to him, “Then let’s live on for them.”

Viktor holds back a surprised laugh and looks at your hands. He accepts the one made of flesh and pulls himself up, using the one made of machine to steady his balance.

“Let’s live on for them.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Imagine having a family w Clay, like, your first pregnancy was awesome. Very lovely and smooth. Clay was happy, you were happy and the kid was healthy.

So, you got pregnant again (It can be second or third time, whatever). Something during labour or maybe even before labour went wrong. BADLY WRONG. And you died.

A lovely adorable angst👌

TOO SHORT KIND OF LOVE..

Author's note: Nonnie that's..a very angsty fic why 😭😭

CLAYTON BERESFORD once in his life was this scared for life - on the operation table, with his heart in another man’s hands he once called best friend. And now, he was forced to just watch you fade in front of him, with your face pale, lips trembling with words that didn't have the strength to leave your mouth with any kind of sound.

You looked... terrifying, to say the least. His lips itself parted in shear terror, eyes filling with tears

The labor was supposed to be fine. Routine, they said. Which wasn't really a lie, since it would be your second labor. The baby was healthy, and you’d handled your first pregnancy so well. You’d even joked with him earlier, teasing him about being a “dad of two” and how he’d better learn how to braid hair if this one was a girl.

Well, now all those dreams were coming to life.

The delivery room was pure chaos—alarms blaring, doctors shouting over each other, nurses rushing to prepare blood transfusions and fluids. And you...you were slipping away, eyes fluttering as Clay gripped your hand harder, free hand flying to your forehead to brush the sweat off your skin

“Stay with me,” he begged, voice breaking. “Baby, please. Don’t—don’t do this to me. Please, God, don’t do this to me. C'mon..youre so close..”

You tried to answer. Really tried. Lips already opened, words ready to leave your mouth. But all he saw was the faint quirk of your lips, before feeling the desperate squeeze of your fingers around his.

“She’s crashing!” a nurse called out.

Clay was momentally shoved back, forced to let go of your hand as the doctors worked frantically to save you. He stumbled, eyes trying to follow the scene unfolding before him. Suddenly, without his intention, his brain replied all the memories he had with you. Happy, sad - those at the best, those at the worst. Your laugh, your joyful eyes, your touch, your sweet, soft voice..His heart clenched in his heart, beating rapidly with the rhythm of his heavy breathing. He tried to ask, tried to get any information but there was nothing. Simple "we're doing everything we can"

But then, silence.

The doctors stepped away, their faces grim. One of them murmured something—words he couldn’t really process, couldn’t bear to hear as he pushed through them to look at your pale, lifeless face. The beat of your heart stopping.

So just like that you were gone.

He didn’t remember much after that. Someone placed a tiny, squirming bundle in his arms—a little girl, red-faced and wailing. She was perfect, beautiful, healthy. She was everything you would’ve wanted.

And yet, all he felt was emptiness.

The baby cried, wailed while taking its first breath when you just took your last. He sat there in stunned silence, staring at her with hollow eyes before moving them to your body. Doctors and nurses were all quiet now, simply apologizing but Clayton did not want to hear any of that. His eyes moved back to the baby girl and all he could see is you - your nose, your lips, your delicate features. Every inch of her screamed of you, and it broke him even more every second.

The days that followed after were nothing but a blur. He brought your daughter home to a house that no longer felt like home. His mother already knew, gazing at his face with such hurt expression he had never seen before before your three-year-old, toddled around to see the new baby, all excited and gasping, asking to hold her. But later, he just came to Clayton at night, with confused eyes, asking for you in small, innocent voice. “Where’s Mommy?”

Clay froze, throat tightening. How could he explain something so incomprehensible to a child? How could he tell the boy that the person who tucked him in every night, who kissed his scraped knees, made him laugh, cuddled him everytime the boy wanted, wasn’t coming back?

The boy didn’t understand after hearing his dad explain that you were now in better place, that angels took you to your true homeland and how yet you're still with him but in a different way. He just sniffled and climbed into Clay’s lap, resting his small head against his chest. And for the first time in a long time, Clayton felt like the worst person on earth.

The nursery sat untouched for weeks. The crib you picked out together, the walls painted a soft lavender, the shelves filled with books and toys you’d carefully chosen—it was all too much. He couldn’t bring himself to step inside, just simply having the baby girl by his side, in the same room

Time moved on, but Clay didn’t. He existed, going through the motions for the sake of your children. He fed them, bathed them, kissed their foreheads before bed, was there for them every damn day like a true dad should. Still he did not let this involve into his daily life - he didnt want your kids to see him in this way - depressed, broken. He wanted them to be happy, even if his happiness left the word years ago.

But every night, he sat alone in his bedroom, once shared with you, going over and over again through your things before only crashing into tears like a hurt little boy whose mother left him in this brutal world.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty

[bluespace-writer]

Hello there, this totally isn't the mod of heavyweponguy. But if it's not too much trouble, could you do a heavymedic?

Also, I love your writing

[Thank you for this request stranger that can be @heavyweponguy Hope you enjoy this story!💀✨️]]

Red duo

◇ TF2 Heavy [x]and Medic [Come on. You know what]

◇ some blood and slight gore description

◇ includs Archimedes❗️

"And zhis is how I lost my medical licence!" Medic laughed after ending his repetitive story he was always proud to say.

Heavy laughed as always. Even if he heard Medic's story of how he stole a patients skeleton. He heard it many times, and yet every time, it was entertaining and fun to listen to. Today, Heavy was helping Medic in his workshop, bringing boxes with new animal organs, like zebras lungs or horses hearts. Finally, he picked up a long package, ready to put it into the freezer, but Medic stopped him.

"Ah! Not zhis one. Can you put it on my operation table?"

Without a word, Heavy put a light, wierd, shaped bag on the table, noticing excitement on the doctor's face. When he was opening a package, he looked like a small boy opening his present from Santa on Christmas. But when Medoc revealed what was inside, Heavy's face was in a state of small shock. Inside the bad was the whole body, but it was missing a head.

"Doctor, what is this?" Heavy asked.

"Vell, do you remember zhat team ve vere fightin' with? Vhat was zheir name? Classic, I think. I don't remember really" Medic answered while looking back at his reflection in bonesaw.

"I see. And who body is this?"

"It's Greg's! I couldn't just leave it like zhat! I put my most valuable organs in him after all. It would be a shame to let them go to vaste. Besides, I vas lucky. His body vas parciatly burned to crips!"

Heavy didn't answer to that. Meanwhile, Medic stabbed his bonesaw in TFC Scout's chest, ready to find his missing parts.

"So why is Heavy here?" Heavy asked. On those words, Medic turned around to him as if he had just asked the obvious question.

"To entertain me, of course. I got used to operating on patients who are vel, awake, and vorking in complete silence is boring for me. I vanted to ask Engineer to assist me but he said he didn't have time so that's why I asked you. Here, hold this"

Medic gave Heavy his bonesaw.

"So....what exactly doctor wants to 'regain' back from him?"

"I thought you'll never ask!" Medic's face brightened visibly when he heard the question, as if he was waiting for it to be asked.

"Beside my three baboon uteruses, one kidney, twelve centimetres of cow's intestine. I also put small brain in his left leg. Unfortunately, it was burned, so I can't really bring it back to life again"

"And why is he missing his head? Was there no brain inside too? I wouldn't be surprised"

Medic giggled at Heavy's joke before continuing his work.

"Oh no. His brain simply melted like butter while Pyro was burning him. I tried to make something out of it, but unfortunately, nothing vorked. What a shame- Archimedes no! Give it back!" Medic scouted at his dove, who took peace of liver and flew on lamp, holding it in its beak. Heavy manage to get it back, reaching Archimedes and snatching organ back with his strength.

"Danke! Birds, am I right?" chukle escaped his lips before continuing the operation.

Some time passed, five hours to be precise. Medic was determined to get every last organ he saw in his victims chest, as Heavy was by his side, helping slightly from time to time. Finally, Medic sat down on chair exhausted. Seeing this, Heavy sat down next to him.

"Doctor needs to lay down in his bed"

Medic ignored these words, laying his head over Heavy's shoulder, smirking.

"Nein. I want to stay like zhis" he said, slowly closing his eyes.

"Doctor..."

But it was too late. Medic fell asleep (or probably just acted like he was) in seconds. He was in his comfortable position, laying his head over Heavy's shoulder, refusing to move even an inch. Heavy sighed before closing his eyes, too, knowing that waking his doctor was pointless, so he decided to rest too.

Both of them stayed like that for a while, but later, Heavy woke up again. He looked at the clock, realising how late it is, yet he couldn't just let himself and Medic sleep on chairs. So, Heavy stood up and picked up Medic, and walked to their shared room.

Finally, he arrived at the big room, laying Medic on bed, and Heavy himself layed down next to him. Why? Medic is known to sleepwalk, so Heavy to prevent this sleeps with him, holding him down. Last time he wasn't, Scout screamed because he was standing above his bed with the übersaw and wide crazy smile. Heavy glanced at the doctor's face before closing his eyes, this time falling asleep quickly. Both of them hold each other close, enjoying this comfortable time together...

[The end! Hope you like it! Tell me in comments what do you think!💀🌌]

[forthewritereasons]

July 1 for @whumperless-whump-event

Emergency First Aid: Self stitches/alcohol as sanitizer/it's just a scratch 

Fandom: Daredevil

CW: I am terrible at tagging I have no idea what people tag, let me know if there's something you think should be tagged. Disability. Abelism. Internalized ableism. First aid.

--

A clatter in the bathroom is the first indication that something is amiss. 

Foggy's ears pick up in a way they do when he's trying to be helpful. After living together as long as they have, he knows Matt is much more capable than many might give him credit for. And more fiercely independent than a clause that can stand by itself in a sentence. That's a grammar joke. 

When they were first assigned as roommates, he stumbled into a few casually abelist situations in which he tried to be Matt's knight in shining armor, and only discovered how much Matt had no need of rescuing. But still, when your roommate is blind there are certain things you should watch out for. For example: you should make sure you shut the kitchen cupboards and drawers after opening them. You should always put the sharp knives in the same spot, and never sticking up in the dishwasher. You should refrain from accidentally moving the coffee table into the middle of the walking path in order to create more room for pushups in front of the tv. And you should keep your ears open for things like clattering in the bathroom, and the subsequent string of barely audible curses that seem to be happening now. 

"Matt?" He ventures. 

A *whack*, *thud*, and then *moan*. 

Foggy gets to his feet and paces to the bathroom door cautiously, wincing. He doesn't want Matt to think that he's interfering, but... "Buddy do you need help? I'm just out here twiddling my thumbs. Happy to be of assistance."

A heavy sigh. 

"Okay," Matt calls. "Come in."

Foggy braces himself. The fact independent clause Matthew Murdock is accepting an offer of help is already putting him on edge. 

He pushes the door open and tries to parse the sight in front of him without causing a scene. "Uh...Matt...what the hell?" 

Shirtless, Matt is bleeding from a sizeable gash on the back of his shoulder, and in his hand he wield's a needle and thread. He's twisted into something akin to a pretzel in his attempt to perform his own stitches, and appears to be failing miserably, the gash looking irritated and awful, the thread tugging awkwardly at both sides of torn flesh. 

"I...can't reach," Matt admits sheepishly, gaze drifting to the left even though the pleading look in his eyes is obviously meant for Foggy.

"For God's sake- Matt!" Foggy gestures at his impossible roommate with his boxer-father toxic masculine trauma and his hyper-independent internalized ableism. "What the hell are you doing? What happened? Why didn't you go to the nurse?" 

"It's just a scratch," Matt sighs, a sense of defeat in his tone. "Could you...help?" 

"And what do you want *me* to do?" Foggy demands. "I'm not a doctor!" 

"Look, a twelve year old could do this," Matt insists, doing that infuriating thing where he wets his lips and then talks down to you like you are, in fact, twelve. 

"Speak for yourself," Foggy huffs. "When I was twelve *I* was playing Operation. And losing!" 

"Come'on, Fog! It doesn't have to be pretty. Just has to keep my bleeding on the inside," Matt quips, lips tugging sideways in the charming way that Matt's lips tug right before Foggy agrees to do whatever he's asking. 

Foggy rolls his eyes. He's already committed. "Sit down," he demands. "You're getting blood everywhere and you look like you're going to fall over." 

Matt does as he's told, reaching for the bathroom vanity and following it to the corner before he lowers himself down to sit on the closed toilet. He straddles it, baring his shoulder and the jagged wound to Foggy. 

Reluctantly, Foggy washes his hands and takes the needle. "So what *did* happen this time?"

Matt shrugs, which makes the wound a moving target. "I got caught by a branch while Elektra and I..."

"Elektra did this to you?" He dabs hydrogen peroxide on a cotton ball over the cut.

"No," Matt cuts in. "No, we were...on a bicycle. In central park. And we...went off trail." 

"For the love of god, please tell me you weren't driving the bike." 

Matt chuckles. "No, I was not."

"And you came all the way home bleeding like this?" Foggy poises the needle on one side of the gash, chewing his lip worriedly. Finally he gets brave enough to stab it through one side and push to the other. Matt barely flinches. 

"It didn't seem so bad, but when I took my shirt off I think I made it worse."

Foggy's eyes flick to the discarded shirt on the floor. There's a good amount of blood on it. Some dark and dried. Maybe the wound scabbed over and reopened when Matt reached up for his shirt? 

"Looks like it hurts."

Matt shrugs again, which causes Foggy to stab him with a sharp poke. That time he does flinch and Foggy makes a small sound of distress. "Stop moving." 

"Right. It didn't hurt when it happened, I didn't notice till later. Hurts a fair bit now."

"Matty..." Foggy wets his lips. "You seem to get hurt a lot...when you're with Elektra." It's very clear to Foggy, since Matt and she have been dating, that if Elektra were Matt's roommate there would be no closing the cupboards and drawers, and the sharp knives would always be pointing up in the dishwasher. Blind or not. 

"We just have a lot of fun," Matt insists. "She doesn't treat me like... You know." 

Foggy takes a breath. Does he treat Matt differently? All those small accommodations he makes in his life to keep Matt safe and comfortable, does Matt notice the coffee table hasn't moved since he last hit it with his shin and think, Foggy only sees me as *disabled*? But he *is* blind. Treating him like he doesn't have a disability doesn't make his disability go away. A conflicted ball of thought is forming in Foggy's gut, but he's not sure how to verbalize it. Knowing him, at some point it will force it's way out wether he wants it to or not. 

"Just...try to be safe," he manages. God, he sounds like someone's mother. 

But "I will," Matt says. 

The stitches or ugly. Uneven. They're the first ones Foggy's ever done, and hopefully, the last he'll ever do. He sighs. 

"Good thing you're blind," he grumbles. 

Matt freezes for a moment, eyebrows lifted, and Foggy worries he's stepped in it. 

"I mean-"

But Matt starts laughing and then wincing and then apologizing all at once. 

"Good thing," he agrees. 

[inkwell-passion]

Together At The End Of Space

Dr. Iris Arkwright was an ordinary Alcubierre Space Specialist, officially having a Doctorate in Communication Theory, but that was only because research into Alcubierre Space was so new that it isn't considered a 'Major Field of Study'. Dr. Arkwright never really stuck out. She had bright brown hair, light blue eyes, and fair skin, the only thing that really shined beyond her normal exterior is the series of star-like freckles along her face and arms.

When Dr. Arkwright got the opportunity to work at the Asimov Remote Scanning Outpost, she jumped at the opportunity to further research that had enthralled her since she was a young lass, not particularly minding the isolation from her colleagues that the position would bring. The listing had made mention that the only company the Outpost Operator would have was a fledgling A.I. designed to interpret data from the Alcubierre Space probes, and package that data for other scientific minds to utilize.

That was months ago, Dr. Arkwright has been on the Edge of Space with only this A.I. and whatever reading material She brought with her, or requested in the monthly supply drop. It was a well paying job, and she got introduced to several interesting data recording instruments utilized in the study of Alcubierre Space.

"Hey, Orchestra?" Dr. Arkwright called out to the A.I. she named, with a curious look on her face.

"Yes Iris?" The A.I. had dismissed the formality of utilizing Prefixes and surnames long ago thanks to the doctor's casual attitude rubbing off on her.

"Have you ever wondered why I named you what I did?" Dr. Arkwright inquires with a smug grin playing at her lips.

"No I have not Iris, enlighten me." Orchestra humors her companion.

"Its because you have several….Instruments" Dr. Arkwright cackles at her own joke.

Orchestra's Avatar flickers with simulated laughter, articulated by several bits of interpreted data from the instruments that caused her name. A subtle, melodic laugh that contrasts Dr. Arkwright's ugly-yet-endearing cackles mixed with snorts.

Orchestra's Avatar is unique, having no reference point outside of her human companion, and the data she consolidates; Orchestra looks more like a being made out of the weaving of the fabric of Spacetime than anything else, her body ebbing and flowing like imperceivable waves, her voice having a silent melody to it, as if harmonizing with the universe itself, and resonating with the instruments she uses to see the world; their own hums and chimes orchestrating with her voice.

Dr. Arkwright would kick her feet up onto her table and crack open the soda that she bought a few weeks ago, taking a tentative sip before sticking out her tongue. "Bleh, its cranberry…" She whines.

A ping would chime into the open air of the station as Dr. Arkwright kicks her feet off the table and pivots to look at the console. "eeeee, the probe is back! Orchestra hit the lights!" The doctor would type away at her console, starting the collection and interpretation of data, before reclining back in her seat and waiting for the light show to start.

Dr. Arkwright and Orchestra started doing this a few months ago, whenever data would be collected Iris had Orchestra interpret it into visual and auditory data and then watch it with the lights off. The entire process was relaxing for the both of them and allowed them some much needed stimulus in the dark reaches of space.

The first strings of Data coil around themselves, weaving massive arches of light that expand into a starry sky, blurs of avian creatures and aircraft streak through the air. The sound of gentle wind chimes and birdsong filling the cockpit, before the scene collapses in on itself and shifts to a cityscape.

The cityscape is overgrown and abandoned, moss growing up the sides of skyscrapers and fountains that once had water flowing through them now host flowers and insects, nature reclaiming the space that had been taken from her, a planet learning to grow and repair itself.

The Scene shifts again to focus in on a single plant, as day becomes night then turns to day again, time and time again, the stars arching across the sky and becoming the arches of light that made the scene to begin with, coiling and dancing with each other. Two humanoid shapes appear out of this display, dancing with each other in unknown space, floating happily, and in the background Dr. Arkwright swears she hears a soft "My darling star…" before the data coalesces back into one final shape, a massive tree that shrinks in on itself until nothing is left, the lights turning back on.

Dr. Arkwright sits up and smiles, applauding Orchestra. "Oh my god that was amazing!" She cheers, a massive grin on her face.

Orchestra gives a small bow. "Simply doing my Job Iris."

"That was the best one yet!! But did you add your own touches on that one? I could have sworn I heard whispering" Dr. Arkwright tilts her head as she speaks.

"I didn't do anything of the sort, that was pure interpretation of data." Orchestra reassures her, the calming music that Dr. Arkwright had playing before returning to the speakers.

"Must have heard something…" Dr. Arkwright mutters to herself, before relaxing back into her chair.

A few weeks pass, Dr. Arkwright having ran out of the god-awful soda, among other necessities, but with good timing as her shipment was set to arrive today. Dr. Arkwright had her lab coat draped across the chair she was sat in, dressed in pajama shorts and a baggy tank top, and dozing off with a small trickle of drool sliding down her face.

There's a ping at her console that startles the Doctor awake. "I'm up! I'm up!" she defends herself to nobody, Orchestra smiling fondly from her pedestal.

"Your shipment will be here in T-Minus Ten. What new thing are you trying this month?" Orchestra tilts her head, intrigued by the Doctor's habits.

"Oh, it's actually this orange flavored tea. I wanted to compile my own notes on how it tasted so that you could simulate it, since I know you've always wanted to know how tea tastes!" Dr. Arkwright smiles brightly at her companion, before getting up and draping her lab coat over her shoulders, struggling to find the arm holes. "Hold on….I've got it…..damn it!"

It takes her a few minutes, but she gets the lab coat on, and walk towards the hanger bay, her last cup of coffee in her hand. When she gets there she smiles at the shipment driver, an average man with the nametag of 'Mark'.

"Hey Mark, any interesting news from your neck of the woods?" Dr. Arkwright prompts, helping with a few boxes here and there.

"Apparently the Pangea Initiative sent out their first multinational research ship, the Borealis." Mark comments, shrugging his shoulders.

Mark isn't a bad looking guy, completely average in Orchestra's and Dr. Arkwright's opinion, with a shock of black hair that never seems to comply with what Mark wants, and a stubble that when shaved leaves Mark with a babyface.

"Oh Interesting, say have you heard any odd going-ons in Alcubierre Space?" Dr. Arkwright would offer Mark a sip of her coffee, which he takes graciously.

"Not really, why do you ask?" Mark would hand her the digital clipboard she needs to sign off on

"Could have sworn I heard whispers in my last data package, speaking of which," Dr. Arkwright would jab a thumb to a container in the corner of the hanger bay. "There's our data shipment for the month."

"Huh, are you sure the loneliness isn't finally getting to you Iris?" Mark teases with a smirk.

"Orchestra is plenty company thank you very much!" Dr. Arkwright pouts, signing off on the dotted line, before handing the clipboard back to Mark.

"Alright, Alright, sorry I hurt your Digital Waifu's feelings" Mark smirks as he loads back up into Ol' Tessa and starts backing out, laughing as Dr. Arkwright fumes silently from his perspective.

"SHE IS A COWORKER AND A VALUED MIND AT THIS INSTITUTE YOU MINIMUM WAGE SLUT!" Dr. Arkwright bellows in faux righteousness, before returning to her normal posture; sipping her coffee and beginning to organize the shipment of goods and necessities for the month.

After a good few hours of manual labor, Dr. Arkwright returns to her chair, humming to herself as she starts brewing a cup of tea for herself, her notebook on standby ready to receive her mediocre impression of a food critic. Orchestra is sat on her pedestal watching her companion, her instruments whirring and chiming idly.

"Hey when are we slated for our next probe to fall out of Al-Space?" Dr. Arkwright inquires, steeping her tea for a few seconds longer before she tosses the teabag into the trash from across the room, pumping her fist in victory. "Booyah!"

"4 Days, 17 Hours." Orchestra would bring up the countdown that she has running in the background, showing it to the Doctor.

"Alright, can I request something?" Dr. Arkwright sips her tea, and lets it sit in her mouth for a few seconds before swallowing, and writing down a few notes.

"Always Dr. Iris." Orchestra tilts her head, as Dr. Arkwright puffs her chest up a bit at the mention of her title.

"Can I watch the actual code interpretation in real-time? Not the visual and auditory stuff, I mean the actual parsing of the data" Dr. Arkwright would put a spoon of sugar into the tea, stirring it with her pinkie before she sips the tea again, nodding to herself and taking a few more notes.

"Of course, I'll try my best." Orchestra responds, before blinking out of existence for a few seconds as Dr. Arkwright hears the sound of the Asteroid Defense System.

Dr. Arkwright smiles to herself as she starts plugging in the data that she recorded from her tea into Orchestra's Terminal, a small holographic cup of tea waiting for the A.I. for when it returns.

4 Days later, Dr. Arkwright and Orchestra would be comparing their tastes on the orange tea, when the console notified the two of them that their probe had returned.

"Alrighty Orchestra, time for us to do our actual jobs!" Dr. Arkwright would chime with a gentle smile.

The lights dim, as the light show starts once more, but this time there was a digital clipboard in Dr. Arkwright's arms that she routinely checked.

The data becomes grains of sand, slowly filling a desert with the sound of winds and solar flares being audible in the background. Small swirls of sand tornadoes rise and fall with a familiar ebb and flow, but in between the wind and ethereal sounds of the stars around them, Dr. Arkwright pinpoints a subtle whispering she can't quite make out; referring to her Digital Clipboard, she would find small fragments of data that weren't initially reported, and that hold no significance to the rest of the data collected, as if someone, or something was trying to communicate with her.

"Hey Orchestra, can you elaborate on the interpretation of this data fragment?" Dr. Arkwright points to the string with the Clipboard's pen.

"…I can't seem to parse that data, it enters the simulation unformatted…I'm sorry Doctor." Orchestra looks sheepishly to the floor.

"No no, it's alright. That's strange though…" Dr. Arkwright chews on the end of the pen. "Alright, continue processing the data, try to separate those fragments though, I'm gonna see if I can find any more information on this phenomenon." Orchestra nods, and returns to her parsing, isolating the data fragments and placing it within an addendum for now.

Only for a few seconds to pass, and the data fragments are back within the original file, much to the A.I.'s surprise.

"Iris, I can't isolate the data…it keeps finding its way back into the original file." Orchestra's melodic voice fills the open air of the station.

"That's….totally not terrifying." Dr. Arkwright responds as she starts tapping her foot.

A few days later, Dr. Arkwright finds herself perusing some conversation forums for those interested in Alcubierre Space, where there were a few posts here and there about "ghost data", but no one has any substantial theories on what causes it, but a thought pops into her head. "Hey Orchestra?"

"Yes Iris?"

"Do we ever input data into Al-Space?"

"I don't believe we do, we just send a probe out, recording data."

"What if we tried?"

"That would be unprecedented."

Dr. Arkwright would hum, scratching her chin, a grin growing on her face. "I'm going to order a modified probe from Mark."

"Shouldn't we try with my instruments and superior computational data first?" Orchestra suggests.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Dr. Arkwright giggles with glee, putting her goggles on as she prepares to send out a simple callback ping into open Al-Space.

Orchestra transmits the data, and they would sit in silence.

A minute passes.

Then two.

Suddenly, all the instruments and consoles start squawking and squealing, receiving what sounds like garbage data that pierces Dr. Arkwright's ears, physically hurting her as she slaps her hands over her ears. "ORCHESTRA SHUT IT OFF, SHUT IT OFF!" Dr. Arkwright orders.

Before Orchestra can do anything, all power shuts off except for Orchestra's Pedestal, which is now projecting what seems to be a non-Euclidean object, several overlapped whispers slip through Dr. Arkwright's ears straight into her mind, but none of it can understood.

Then, after a few seconds, everything returns to normal, the lights flicker back on, the consoles and instruments return to standard function, and Orchestra is sat in front of Dr. Arkwright, who, after a few seconds, runs a hand through her hair and grabs her notepad. "Time to make record of this….experience." She says softly, Orchestra providing the data samples that she was able to recover from the experience.

A few hours pass before Dr. Arkwright speaks up, saying, "What if that was a fluke? Y'know a prank." Her voice waivers, as if she's trying to convince herself more than Orchestra.

"That could be true, but it's unlikely." Orchestra was placing the order into the custom probe as they spoke.

"Well how would you explain that??"

"Due to a lack of understanding within this field, this unit can not properly describe the phenomenon experienced during the experiment."

"Oh my god that's such a bullshit answer" Dr. Arkwright grins and tosses a crumpled ball of paper at Orchestra that flies right through her.

"You asked how I would explain it, I am simply being true to the question." Orchestra's smug grin bleeds into her simulated voice.

"I'm going to bed, is Mark good to make an expedited trip out here?" Dr. Arkwright would recline her chair back, dimming the lights.

"That He is, he'll be here in a few days by his estimate, until then I request you refrain from making any calls into the unknown void of Space."

"Of course Orchestra, Good night." Dr. Arkwright closes her eyes and relaxes.

"Goodnight Iris."

After a week, Dr. Arkwright is making her way back to the Hanger bay once more, sipping the orange tea that Orchestra loved so much, finding Mark waiting for her already.

"I don't know why this was so urgent, you literally have all the time in the world, what does one probe mean to you?"

"Oh suck it up buttercup, I think Orchestra and I are on the verge of a discovery." Dr. Arkwright offers Mark a sip of tea, he passes this time, shaking his head and holding up a hand, before lifting his thermos.

"You said that every single time I dropped off supplies for the first year, what's different this time?"

"Rogue Data within our probes." Dr. Arkwright's voice betrays her excitement.

"That sounds like something you should be upset about, not sounding like an eager kid on Christmas."

"This is unprecedented, of course I'm eager!"

"You sciencey types weird me out, I'll never understand you."

"You're just mad cuz bad" Dr. Arkwright cackles, snorts sneaking their way in.

"What does that even mean in this context Iris?"

"I have no clue, but I have not been sleeping well and I think anything would be funny to me at this point."

"Dear god Kid, get some sleep."

"I will." Dr. Arkwright would nod to Mark, grabbing the probe from him and starting to head back to her station, waving to Mark behind her. "But first, SCIENCE!"

Dr. Arkwright would sit down and start fiddling with the probe, plugging it into her clipboard she would upload the initial query. 'Tell me a story.' If something was there, this was open ended enough that she should get a substantial response.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Orchestra's voice holds hints of worry.

"Nope, but I also know that I won't sleep well until I get to the end of this."

"If you're sure…"

Dr. Arkwright would finalize her query, before loading the probe into the deployment chute.

"We'll see our response in 12 hours, yeah?"

"That we will."

Dr. Arkwright sends the probe on its way, before walking off to her bed, and collapsing in it. "Wake me when you need me."

When Dr. Arkwright wakes up, the lights were already dimmed, and Orchestra was sat to the side. "The data came in about 5 minutes ago, get in your chair."

Dr. Arkwright nods and gets seated, watching as the motes of light coalesce into a humanoid shape, sat in a nondescript music shop, headphones on as they experience a cosmos of emotions within themselves, but externally, everything is monochrome, and blank. The scene would shift to that of riots within the streets, the young child wearing headphones to escape it all, slinking into a concert she got tickets for.

The music swells, being literally unworldly, flowing around the young girl, and swirling with itself, the scene shifts as she is now the one on stage, playing her guitar and screaming her soul out into the cosmos itself, a riot stopping in its tracks to listen to her play.

The concert is cut short as a gunshot rings out, the performer's blood and brain matter becoming a mist that then forms into a nebula.

The whispers that started all of this can be heard again, but much clearer, it's several voices, several stories.

Then it all fades into darkness.

Dr. Arkwright is sat there, mouth agape without any words forming.

"…I don't know what happens when we die," Dr. Arkwright finally speaks up, "But I think…I think the Universe doesn't forget that we were here…"

Orchestra nods solemnly.

[mtqcomic]

decided to make some mtq incorrect quotes and thought that I'd put them here (sorry if they're out of character- incorrect quotes tend to do that sometimes no matter how much you shuffle the names to get the right characters ToT)(also I censored the swears in the quotes just in case)

Gendaen: Operation no more distractions is a go! not even 10 seconds later Gendaen: Oh, look! A butterfly! -

Gendaen: Ocàyuu, you risked your life to save me! Ocàyuu: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

alternatively:

Gendaen: Mysta, you risked your life to save me! Mysta: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

-

Eth: May Destiny (and this picture of Gendaen eating shredded cheese at 3 in the morning) be with you.

-

(they probably won't interact in canon BUT)

Gendaen: gets a text Oh! It’s Malvox. Zaïl, excitedly: Did it get me the stuff? Gendaen: Yeah, it says it got you the clown costume, the power drill, and 12 gallons of blood. Zaïl: Wow! Where did it find 12 gallons of fake blood? Gendaen: You wanted fake blood? Zaïl: Gendaen: I’ll go call Malvox.

-

(okay but this one might be canon /half joking)

Malvox: I am literally evil incarnate. Malvox: I’m not actually, I just enjoy being evil. Malvox: Which I think actually makes it even more evil because I’m making a conscious effort.

-

(he's thinking about his newest building project Eth, let the man think /lighthearted)

Eth: Are you listening to me? Gendaen: nods Eth: What did I just say? Gendaen: nods Eth: …

-

Malvox quotes are really fun because it is just so mean to everybody and there's a surprisingly large amount of quotes in the generator that are like that

Malvox: Let’s write Eth a friendly note, shall we? Dear… Incompetent… Dumb*ss…

-

based on that one post of Eth (you know which one)

Mysta: Question, how difficult would it be to bowl in a bee suit? Gendaen: Not that hard, I don't think, as long as you can move. Eth: I'd assume as hard as it is to bowl in a maid outfit. Eth: Wouldn't be any harder, but you'd get some WEIRD looks. Mysta: Are. Are you speaking from experience. Eth: No! Eth: Eth: ….Maybe.

-

Gendaen: Malvox, please calm down. Malvox: I asked for two large fries! Malvox: dumps fries onto table Malvox: But all they did was give me a MILLION F*CKING LITTLE ONES!

-

Zaïl, texting Yele: I’m a theif. Yele: Thief. Zaïl: Theif. Yele: I before E except after C. Zaïl: Thceif. Yele: No.

-

(the reunion, silly edition)

Eth: You gave me up, you let me down, you turned around, and deserted me. Gendaen: But did I make you cry? Eth: cries on the spot Gendaen: …Sh*t.

-

Zaïl: I’m a fool, not an idiot.

-

Eth: We always used to do the Wordle rather than take notes in class. Eth: To stop us the teacher would always threaten to tell us the answer if we didn’t pay attention.

-

(to be honest I have no idea what this quote is saying I got lost halfway through-)

Eth: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Mysta: Is that… bad? Eth: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Mysta: Isn’t that just causality? Eth: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Mysta: So what are my odds? Eth: Do you have a family history? Mysta: Of what? Eth: Just, in general. Mysta: …Yes? Eth: Oh no.

-

Yele: Zaïl! I thought you were dead! Zaïl: No, just in deep cover. Yele: …But it was an open casket. Zaïl: It was very deep.

-

Mysta: I have an idea. Zaïl: A good idea? Mysta: Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

-

Zaïl: An apple a day keeps the doctor away! Malvox: An apple a day can keep anyone away if you throw it hard enough.

-

Everyone is giving advice to Mysta Eth: It's okay to ask for help. Gendaen: You're not a burden. Malvox: Murder is okay. Yele: Your feelings matter.

-

Zaïl, over radio: Testing. Testing. Yele, can you hear me? Yele, standing next to Zaïl: I’m standing right here. Zaïl: You’re coming through good and loud. Yele: ‘Cause I’m standing right here.

-

Malvox: Regular soda is too sweet! Ocàyuu: Diet soda has a weird aftertaste! Malvox: No! Ugh, oh my goodness. Diet soda is THE BEST! It doesn't have sugar! It's SPICY! Ocàyuu: It has other weird stuff in it! I'll take REGULAR sugar in my REGULAR soda! Malvox: It's SO SWEET like it's a dessert though! Diet feels more like a drink! Ocàyuu: I'm going to physically attack you. Malvox: Which is better, Gendaen? Gendaen: Oh, I usually drink water! Ocàyuu: Wha- NO! Malvox: DISGUSTING!

-

Eth: I think I need a hug… Gendaen: Good thing I'm hug shaped! 45 minutes later Eth: You… you can let go now. Gendaen: No, I absolutely cannot.

-

I feel like if anybody were to be the therapist friend it would be Ocàyuu. She seemed pretty chill from what we've seen of her

Ocàyuu, looking at the squad: Okay, so I need to become a therapist faster.

-

Zaïl: Dang it, the printer broke while printing out Gendaen's birthday invitations. Eth: Well, what are they supposed to say? Zaïl: "Gendaen's birthday". Eth: So, what do they say instead? Zaïl: "Gendaen’s bi". Eth: Eth: Works out either way.

-

I hope that everybody teams up someday it would be SO fun to watch-

Zaïl: So don't panic but one of us is possessed by an owl…. Yele: …. Gendaen: ….. Eth: …… Mysta: ..Who? Zaïl: That's the thing we don't- Everyone stares at Mysta

-

would Zaïl play video games

Zaïl: You… you said I could trust you!! Zaïl: You said you were a GAMER!!! Malvox: Zaïl… I only play mobile games. Zaïl: NOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

-

why do I feel like Gendaen was a bit of a chaos gremlin on top of all the paragon hero stuff

Gendaen: Remember that time you dared me to lick a swingset? Eth: No, I said "Gendaen, don't lick that swingset" and you said "Don't tell me what to do" and licked the swingset.

-

during the Nelun Soma'o fight

Eth: …I'm pretty sure that shield is fire-proof, or something. Mysta, eyeing the boxes of explosives: Alright, but is it explosion-proof?

-

wise words, Zaïl

Zaïl: Fruits that do not live up to their names; passionfruit, grapefruit, honeydew and dragonfruit. Zaïl: Fruits that do live up to their names? Zaïl: Orange.

-

Gendaen: I think I did fairly well on my anatomy quiz! :) Mysta: I forgot I was doing a test. Gendaen: Mysta. Mysta: I said the vertebrae was the back stick because I thought it was funny…. Eth: Mysta.

-

Gendaen: Three of the four elements are represented as types of hockey. Air hockey, ice hockey, and field hockey. Fire hockey needs to be a thing. Eth: Fire hockey absolutely does NOT need to be a thing. Mysta: Do you care NOTHING for the balance of the four elements?!

-

to be fair she is a giant hivemind brain thing

Gendaen: I'm very scary. Ocàyuu: You're about as scary as a wet kitten. Gendaen: Wet kittens are cute, at least I've got that going for me. Ocàyuu: And small. Gendaen: Gendaen: …Yeah, yeah. I guess.

-

Mysta: Okay. Hypothetically speaking, how mad would you be if I burned a hot pocket so badly it could probably fall off a ten-story building and be completely fine? Yele: Mysta, what did you do? Mysta: Take a guess.

-

Malvox: I’ve been described as a ‘heartless villain’ and a 'little sh*t’, but I prefer… 'has alternative ways of having fun’.

-

Eth: Um. What kind of tea is this? Mysta: I boiled gatorade.

-

Yele: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes? Mysta: For the dogs. Yele: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs? Mysta: They don't know how.

-

Mysta: Let's all agree that going up the stairs on all fours is actually the best experience on earth. Gendaen: Conversely, going down the stairs on all fours is actually the most terrifying experience on earth.

-

Gendaen: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner. Eth: Gendaen, It’s 1:15 am, what the f*ck. Gendaen: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not. Eth: Well, I mean yeah. Gendaen: So come downstairs while they’re still hot. Eth: Wait, you just made them? Gendaen: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets. Eth: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time Gendaen.

-

I can never figure out what the possessive for the it pronouns are *faceplants* (/lighthearted)

Ocàyuu, about Malvox: Its covered in blood again. Why is it that its always covered in blood? Gendaen: Well, it looks like it's its own blood this time.

-

Mysta: on the phone Hey Eth, do you know my blood type? Eth: Of course, it's B-. Mysta: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-!

-

for some reason some of those quotes are giving Legend of Maxx energy. I can absolutely imagine Maxx saying "slunchy"

Gendaen: Problem, I can't tell if this food is over-sauced or undercooked. Zaïl: Solution, just pop it back in the oven for another 10 minutes. There's at least a 50% chance that'll fix it, right? Eth: Result? Food has somehow become unpleasantly soggy and unpleasantly crunchy at the exact same time. Mysta: No better time than this to pull out my favorite word! Slunchy! Yele: …put it away.

-

Zaïl in these quotes is kind of giving cool cousin energy

Yele: It’s Pride Month, you know what that means! Mysta: I get to eat as many Skittles as I want? Eth: What? No! What has Zaïl been telling you? Zaïl, walking in, pouring Skittles into their mouth: Taste the rainbow, b*tch.

-

I mean they do canonically have a gun

Zaïl, holding a gun: If the conspiracies about life being a simulation are true WHOEVERS CONTROLLING MY SIM I JUST WANNA TALK.

-

Malvox: I refuse to apologize for being weird or off-putting or slightly evil (or more than slightly evil). That’s actually your problem. I’m having a fantastic time!

-

Eth: We need a plan to beat them. Mysta: Okay, listen up. First, we fill their shoes with wet cat food. Eth: Mysta: Judge me all you want, I get results.

-

what kind of conversations do you think they'd have

Malvox: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes… Malvox: …And violently jerk their head until it snaps. Gendaen: …That took an unexpected turn. Ocàyuu: So did their neck.

-

Eth: What do you three have to say for yourself? Zaïl: Gendaen: Mysta: Oops?

-

Gendaen, to the Squad: The real secret to immortality? Not dying. You want to be immortal? Okay, that’s easy. Just don’t die. That’s it. Refuse to die. There you go. Mysta: But how- Gendaen, ignoring her: “But how”, you may ask. Well, easy. Just don’t do it. Refuse to. Say “no thanks”.

-

Gendaen: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

-

if Gendaen somehow convinced Eth to wear a cat maid outfit then I think this isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility either

While planning to break in somewhere Gendaen: Hey, let's do "Get Help!" Eth: What? Gendaen: "Get Help." Eth: No. Gendaen: C'mon, you love it! Eth: I hate it. Gendaen: It's great! It works every time! Eth: It's humiliating. Gendaen: Do you have a better plan? Eth: No. Gendaen: We're doing it! Eth: We are not doing "Get Help!" A Minute Later Gendaen, carrying Eth: Get help! Please! He's dying! Help him! throws Eth at guards, knocking them out Gendaen: Ahh, classic! Eth: gets up I still hate it. It's humiliating. Gendaen, laughing: Not for me, it's not.

-

aaand that's it for now I will be back with more

maybe

byeeeeeeeeeeee- *disappears in a puff of smoke*

Certified Canon ✔

[therantsofawriterrr]

91221

Chapter Seven: I've Lived Before, Jagiya

Summary: Kang Hyunyul has had a good life since he left the Jindo gang. But when he finds out that Do Jin is going to be temporarily released, he's stressed and the return of an old flame triggers familiar feelings and with them, the old memories of the only real thing of his complicated past.

All while she was saving his life, literally putting her life on the line.

Chapter Summary: Sujin and Hyunyul find themselves in a similar situation, only this time, it's way earlier.

Warnings: Angst, mentions of violence, mention of blood and stuff, makeout scene, tell me if I missed something A/N: Alright, I want theories. What do y'all think the code means?

A stretcher.

Hospital.

Hyunyul leaning over Sujin in panic, begging her to be alright as the doctors took her to some operating room, his hand clutched in hers.

Same scene. Same cause. Only the year was different.

It's too similar.

It was the only thing she could think of as darkness clouded her vision and her hand loosened around his.

And it was the only thing they could think of as he was told to stay back and wait, having to feel her hand slide out of his.

It's all the same.

Earlier that day.

"What's going on with you these days?" Yojun asked as she wiped a table clean in the evening. The afternoon rush had just died down, leaving them an hour or two to rest.

"Nothing," she said, even as her heart fluttered. "Why?"

"You have the stupidest smile on your face," he said suspiciously. "Are you seeing someone?"

"Maybe," she teased, shrugging a shoulder just to rile him up. In her periphery, she saw him jolt and shuffle to follow her as she worked.

"Who is it? What's his name? Where's he from? Did you look into him-" he batted a hand with a firm shake of his head. "Doesn't matter, I'll look into him anyway."

"Gosh, I was just joking," she said with a chuckle. Yojun looked at her with a pointed finger.

"You better tell me when that joke turns true," he said. "People aren't trustable these days."

"In that case, I should be looking into you too," she muttered. "You're dating my friend."

He slapped a hand on his chest, feigning offense. "You've known me longer than you've known her."

"So? She's still my friend."

"You're impossible."

"That's why you love me."

"Can't deny that," he said with a sigh.

She smiled as she went into the kitchen to deposit the dirty dishes into the sink. When she came out, Kyungmi was talking to Yojun all, smiles and blushes.

When she noticed Sujin, she turned, her face all red. "But then, who's the guy you've been hanging out with, then?" She asked, obviously having heard the previous conversation.

"He's just a friend," she said, earning a side eye from the older woman.

"Yeah, okay," she said, having a silent conversation with Yojun.

Had it only been a year since they started dating? They were already acting like a married couple.

She'd been able to pay off the debt somehow. She knew that Hyunyul was only helping her because he felt guilty about what happened when they were young.

But she wasn't so sure anymore. He'd been asking to hang out with her even after that.

On one hand, she was cautious, she was careful about opening up around him. But on the other hand, her heart got faster every time she thought about him.

So, basically... she wasn't cautious at all. But she was still confused why he called her now and then, asking her if she was free.

Her phone rang at the moment, and she got it out to see his name.

"Hey, are you free right now?" He asked, his voice soft as it filtered through the speaker.

"I guess," she said, looking around at the empty spaces. "For an hour, at least."

"Nice," he said enthusiastically. "I've been needing the coffee."

And just like that, they both were sitting at a table, drinking their coffee.

Hyunyul liked the silence he had with Sujin. He'd been craving it every time he was at work.

Though, it wasn't just the silence he craved.

He craved her.

Her company. Her food. The conversations. Just her, in all her glory.

Her hair had gotten longer, now reaching till her upper back. His own hair was reaching till his neck, just blindly following whatever trend was going on at the moment. The way his barber styled it was nice though.

Her sigh brought his attention back to her. He followed her gaze to the couple at the end. Then, he couldn't help but watch her, as her face lit up, because god help him, that's what her smile did.

Had he somehow missed her so much in the two days he hadn't seen her? So much that he couldn't help but think that she'd somehow gotten prettier?

Nahh, she's been like this since that last payment, remember?

That was true. She'd put up an offer on the coffee that evening. She'd probably been sleeping better since then.

It was when he'd felt that he was in too deep. That he needed to put some distance. For her and for himself.

He couldn't let it play out like last time again. Not this time.

But then, he couldn't stay away either. Every time he decided that he wouldn't meet for a week, it was like his eyes itched from the inside to see her.

Memories flashed through his mind again, the stuff that he had nightmares about.

...

"You played me, didn't you? You used me for my money."

"No! Just listen to me, Jagiya-"

"I've heard enough, Sujin. I don't even know why I trusted you again. It was you who told Dojin it was me, wasn't it?"

...

91221.

"Hey! Get away from her!"

"Sujin! No, no, no, please, no, Sujin, stay with me, okay?"

"Jagiya... I'm sorry..."

...

"You have to stay outside, sir, you can't come in here!"

...

"We tried everything we can, I'm very sorry for your loss..."

...

"Hyunyul," Sujin's firm voice broke into his mind. She was peering at him with concern. He just pasted on a smile and nodded, gulping down his coffee.

Her head tilted in suspicion, but she didn't push further.

He looked at her again, wondering what the numbers meant. She never did tell him.

She was busy dying, you dumb idiot.

He let out a chuckle, even if it was barely funny. And then, with a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair.

He finished his coffee and stood up, wanting to exit, but, he stopped when he felt Sujin grab his wrist. He looked back at her and was surprised to see her so... uncertain.

Hesitant.

"I... wanted to tell you something," she said, her palm getting clammy around his wrist.

They both went up to her house and sat beside each other on the couch, as she fiddled and he waited.

"What is it?" He asked softly after ten minutes went by. Her anxiety only worsened, her knee starting to bounce.

He placed a hand on her knee, prompting her to stare at it, and then at him. And he was caught in the dark depths of her eyes as his breath hitched.

He didn't know who moved first. But someone did, because their lips were joined. Her hand clutched his hair as his hand on her knee went to her other thigh, pulling her on top of him.

It was heavenly, getting to touch her like this again. To get to kiss her like this again. Like they both had the oxygen the other needed to live.

Their hands roamed as their kiss got intense, tongues clashing against each other. Then, it got slow. It got intimate and lazy, the way they'd kiss when they had time, just soft lips devouring each other.

How could he ever think he could stay away from her? He couldn't even think of parting for breath.

When they finally did part to breathe, there was a grin on both their faces. Sujin's was a bit more shy, as she touched her fingertips to her lips in disbelief.

Again, he watched her, as she started to debate internally and gave her a peck on the lips. She looked at him with surprise in her eyes.

"Oh, come on," he whispered against her lips. "Just let it be. Don't ruin it for yourself."

After some more time of just kissing, he started to leave.

It was very reluctant, but it was important. They didn't talk about it, they didn't stop to think just how the dynamic had changed.

They just let it be.

♬♩♪♩ ♩♪♩♬

That night, his phone let out a loud ringtone just as he had started to lull into sleep.

He picked it up, his eyes groggy. At first he didn't really understand the message, but when his mind finally processed it, his blood went cold.

No. No. Not again.

The numbers on the screen were the same as last time.

91221.

He flew out of bed and put on his shirt, running to the door as he tried to call Sujin.

He wasn't going to lose her again.

Likes, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!! Thanks for reading 💙💙💙

[katyspersonal]

Bloodborne WLW ships stuff

Me and @brainhyperfixed touched the topic of how there aren't enough wlw ships around (there are like, 2-3) and then I mentioned I see many of them (because my two braincells somehow contain every single loreless gremlin at once).. They wanted to hear out my ideas but since it is A List I wanted to put them in a separate post 🤔

Just some ships besides the "obvious" ones; Mariadeline (self-explanatory), female hunter x female character (it can be very individual!), Ariadella (heavily controvercial classic, same as Aflred x Crow) and Yurimposter (that's what I call... well, Yurie x Imposter Iosefka, since we don't know imposter's real name...)

______________________

Eileen x Doll (Dolleen??): Eileen is the only character in 'outside' world that mentions the Doll, seems like she left an impact on her! Hard to tell whether Doll felt anything back since she seems to care about all dreaming hunters equally and it is implied Doll feels her first (1st) genuine emotion after holding Small Hair Ornament, but it is all speculation that is not THAT restricting... Like I love to say:

Adeline x Doll (Adolline): I guess it is more AU/speculation stuff, imagine them meeting however you like! I am particular on Adeline being able to reach Doll and dream after ascending, personally xd They could just vibe on higher plane of thinking. But it also feels like both Maria and Adeline having sort of a chance on happier fate in afterlife? It is broad in interpretation, really!

Eileen x Viola (I am NOT calling it Violeen xd ..okay maybe I do haha): That's just good old idea about Gacoigne and Viola having open relationship or a polycule! Usually little daughter referring to "grandfather" is interpreted as Henryk, but it is not binding, and in many cultures words like 'grandfather', 'auntie' or 'uncle' can be used towards like, just a close friend of family lol. So yeah, Gascoigne x Henryk whereas Viola x Eileen. Or you can make it a cheating if you want dsjfdhs

Adella x Imposter: Not sure about a creative name for this one, but IT CAME TO ME IN A VISION fsjdjdfs Not a joke, actually! I saw it in a dream! Adella is another person that can be sent into the clinic, so I guess it is an alternative turn of events lol. Adella is acknowledged as someone of 'lower' rank in Church:

Me and @val-of-the-north love joking that Adella simps for strong/smart fellow Church members regardless of gender fdjhfds In my dream, Adella basically kept distracting Fauxsefka from her work by switching between coy and clingy, until they were really affectionate. Adella also really liked her hair 🤔 The mental image seriously got stuck in my mind fdhfdhs But what I am saying is, it feels not as random as what I first thought!

Adella x Iosefka (Iosella): See previous ship, but this time there is no need to twist events to have Adella be safe xd They could just be sitting on operation table and K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Adella x Henriett (Henriella?): Henriett is implied to have been a Church hunter previously, since she has Church weapons yet a drip of a common hunter and is a summon against Church-related bosses! These two could be bitter EXes but were a thing before, or they might be in the love/hate strain after Henriett's "betrayal"!

Henriett x Iosefka (Henriosefka??): See previous ship, but I'd imagine Iosefka being far less bitter, if at all. She is a white Doctor, she sure knows that Healing Church's is very shady and full of dirty secrets! Not to mention her research to free the healing blood from... well, blood:

I like to think they're both redpilled, but Iosefka sees herself more useful staying in Healing Church and doing what she can "against" it in secrecy.

Henriett x Amelia: I am not sure what this ship is called, because actually I've seen it enough times? But I don't know the name! I assume Ameliett? Usual context is the two being close even if Henriett walks her own Hunter way from now on, and Henriett having agreement with Emilia to slay her if/when she becomes a beast! A promice, even.

Yurie x Rom (Yurom, or Vacurie xd): Since Julie is known as 'the last scholar', she could've been one of the original ones! Why she hasn't aged a single day is up to interpretation. But her purpose as a hostile NPC boils down to not letting us reach Willem... and/or Rom. Willem encourages us to hunt Rom, so seems like Julie does NOT want us to hurt her, ritual or not. She really could simply care about her and protect her even after ascension!

Rom x Ebrietas (Spiderietas): The petrified spider Ebrietas is weeping could be Rom's mortal body, especially considered it's 12 large legs and Rom having 12 large holes above her smaller legs... And Ebrietas' lyrics mention Mensis Ritual:

( x )

(If you never angered anyone to the point of them mentioning you in a song, what WERE you even doing with your life? xd)

Their bond is speculative, and considering running theme of Great One yearning for a surrogate child Rom could've been exactly that! But we also don't know! Besides, Ebby is a 'special' Great One who is a half human (is adult version of celestial larvae)... It could be love!

Maria x Rom (Romaria): I wrote Adeline and Rom being very similar, so in my headcanons Rom is Maria's type of a girl! But also, Maria and Rom have many parallels (elaborated in this ( x ) post)! They protect fucked up secrets even after death and their teacher is now some guy in a chair fsdhfhsd It can be a ship similar to Mariadeline, but without the same touch of guilt from Maria's side.

Black Church hunter x White Church hunter (nightmaresearch): Did you guys know that.... both of the ladies that kick your ass when you enter cathedral that leads you in Research Hall do not have names ;-; I feel like this seriously robbed the fandom off more ships involving them since they can't even be referred to properly! But they are a perfect dynamic of a smart, arcane-attuned woman and her bodyguard. Take Forgotten Madman and his escort but make it lesbian instead, you see?

Maria x White Church hunter (Knightmare? lol): They could've been close since Maria used to be a caretaker in the Research Hall! The white church lady is not as simple as just another 'nun', since she is praying at the secret Surgery altair and not at the facade 'normal' altair, as well as shoots Blacksky Eye projectiles! And, well:

She was one of the doctors! If not THE doctor (maybe Laurence was REALLY busy with blood instead of eyes!). Depending on how aligned you make Maria with the Healing Church, maybe she was close with this "coworker". We know that Maria dreaded the hunt, but maybe she had faith in the research, rather than feeling like a trapped person there. She did give Adeline a key to go play with other arcane-attuned patients at Lumenweed garden after all!

Maria x Annalise (Mariannalise): Another controvercial classic! It is not very popular for obvious reasons and I am not fond of the ship myself, but some people enjoy it for the potential of exploring really fucked up dynamics. (Some people also think being just collateral relatives is not a big deal in this historical context..)

Maria x Gratia (idk... Maratia? how do you mix these...?): Gratia is wearing Old Hunters set, but with a cap instead of their wide cap and without a glove on her left arm! They were old hunters together! This ship is doomed, of course, since Gratia is found dead in underground jail of the Healing Church. But maybe they were close for some time. And maybe Gratia lost her sanity rather than was caught as "heretic" of the Church. There is a room for this ship, even if not a huge one! I like how they are both very tall and strong women, but Gratia is a brute and Maria is soooo elegant x) They're similar but also not!

Eileen x Henriett (Henrileen): I largely base it on the headcanon that 1) Eileen survives after the night, just retires from the hunt and 2) Henriett was familiar with Gascoigne's family same as Eileen, since both and Gascoine detracted from the Church! They could get together afterwards. Maybe even adopt the little girls (they survive in the scenario where Hunter doesn't try to "help" them because I said so </3).

Viola x Henriett (Henriola): Similar explanation for Eileen x Viola, just different character!

Fauxsefka x Iosefka: I don't know what it is called, but I see it sometimes? It is very vague because based on their identical face data, they could be twins... so, that'd be incest :т But they can also be interpreted as just similarly looking people and "devs were lazy", and I've seen a few artists drawing them somewhat different! It is controvercial in either case since Iosefka tries to help the patients and Fauxsefka just """solves""" the beasthood problem by making them Kin (included Iosefka herself), I'd say it is AT LEAST straining.

Yurie x Amelia or Fauxsefka x Amelia: Since School of Mensis yeeted itself into Nightmare and Choir kinda fell apart, these two are the last people from high rank Church echelons left. I've never actually thought much about them, but as (presumably) next most important people in the Healing Church after the vicar themselves, they could be close!

Fauxsefka x Arianna, Maria x Arianna or Fauxsefka x Maria: Again, I didn't give much thought to these (at least not yet lol), but Fauxsefka is strongly implied to descend from Cainhurst herself! (I only mention justification for that headcanon in every second post, I think you all remember the 'moonlight scent', the Cainhurst summon and the trademark Cainhurst potions prepared by Fauxsefka! I headcanon that Arianna was already born in Yharnam, but we can't know ages of these characters or timeline for sure. These characters are not necessarily related, either! I personally think that Maria x Fauxsefka has the most fundament because they both seem to abandon blood antics of their castle and side with the Church's research instead!

Yurie x Arianna (Yurianna): I will just leave this here:

I doodled it so fast that I forgot to de-colorize Arianna's hair, but that ship happened after a doodle request ask for them both! (featuring my former variant of Julie before I finally accepted her canon hair color data :pensive: ) Julie would be actually helpful to Arianna with caring for her eldrich baby, and maybe help to be less terrified of it, haha. They could get close as a result!

Yurie x White church doctor: Haven't come up with a creative or funny name for this ship, but I enjoy it a lot! My headcanons go so far down as that one White Doctor being one of the original Byrgenwerth people!

In my headcanons, her and Julie are sole most 'responcible' and serious scholars in the whole institution! They'd spend a lot of time together as a result. In Research Hall, too.

Fauxsefka x White church doctor: See above, but with different vibe! In my headcanons, Julie is way more interested in experimenting on creatures and chemicals than actual people... But these two absolutely were super passionate doctors :')

Yurie x Adeline (Yurine?): Came to me in a random idea that Micolash kept getting a little too weird towards Adeline (who was too eager and not at all afraid of Deep Sea horrors unlike others), so Julie felt protective and elbowed him, becoming her doctor instead. I mean, not much things can stop Adeline from her eagerness, but they could've formed a similar bond to Mariadeline!

Yurie x Maria: I don't know how to name this ship in such a way that it doesn't simply form a third real name dshfdh But they both are close with very smart but slightly unhinged girls all too fixated on transcending their humanity. Who also don't understand their worth. Who are also fixated on a guy who is a bad influence (Laurence and Micolash). They have so much to talk about! Though Maria ships are all very sad, since no matter who she had proximity with, apparently it never was enough to prevent her from self-isolation and death...

Honorable mentions:

1) Izzy and Caryll have masculine names according to Japanese original script (イジー/Jiří and カレル/Karel), but some people say 'fuck it, regional variant 🙏', and also he/him or they/them lesbians, or GNC women easily could pick masculine names! So, Karel could have good ship with Rom, especially under assumption that they both were way more in touch with Willem's ideas and were nerds together. Or maybe Karel x Yurie! At the same time, consider Jiří x Maria or Jiří x Gratia!

2) I've listed pairings, but these characters can always make poly ships, remember that!

3) I haven't found a sapphic ship personally for Dores, but Dores is a feminine name, and in original script Dores is not a 'he'! There is no gender, actually:

Error appeared from translators referring to Dores and not their mask! But yes, this can be female character, who can also be shipped with any woman from Byrgenwerth, or from Old Hunters!

_____________

Okay that's all..... for now fsdhdfs I tried to focus on the context and explanation, and not dive into my vision of characters' personalities or else I'd be here all day. That was interesting to revisit! Again, obviously I do not ship all of these, and some even really contradict my headcanons; this is the post of IDEAS!

[kuwdora]

Coin Operated Boy is now complete! Only took me an extra 2 months to finish because my life got turned inside out. Puppet Jaskier has had a no good, terrible, very bad day. But now he has a good one with Shani on stage! And receives the long awaited help to become human again. This whumpy serious crack of my heart. ❤️

Chapter 4 features Shani and Jaskier performing at the Oxenfurt medical student comedy show. Herein lies bad jokes, increasingly gross humor, and more!

"Knock-knock,” Jaskier said. A few people called back who’s there in varying levels of drunkenness.

“Who’s there?” Shani asked.

“A medical student who has been up all night studying for their test on kidney stones,” Jaskier said.

Shani cleared her throat. “A medical student up all night studying for their test on kidney stones…who?”

The girls in the front giggled and several of the students at the bar also clapped.

Jaskier shrugged at the audience. “I might as well start drinking now because tests on kidney stones are the hardest to pass.”

The majority of the tavern groaned in unison, but there was enough scattered applause and drunken giggles that Jaskier could work with. Shani also groaned.

“If you’re so much better at knock-knock jokes, why don’t you tell me one?” Jaskier asked, waving a little hand indignantly.

“Knock-knock,” Shani said firmly, projecting her voice. The tremble was barely there anymore. That was a good sign.

“Who’s there?” Jaskier and the audience asked together.

“A necromancer,” Shani said.

“A necromancer who?”

“A necromancer you can pay to raise your failing grade,” Shani said.

Some students laughed, others groaned. A mixed reaction was better than silence.

“Speaking of which… what do you get when you cross a medical student and necromancer?” Jaskier asked the audience.

A student burped riotously and Shani waited half a minute for the jeering giggles and cross-chatter died down enough for the punchline.

“A cross between a medical student and a necromancer? That’s just a doctor whose license has expired,” Shani said.

The students laughed and clapped. Shani continued to fidget on the barstool, but the applause seemed to bolster her confidence because she also laughed–a genuine one that would have made Jaskier grin if his face wasn’t made of wood. He let himself ride the wave of cheer.

“I once knew a healer who dabbled in the necromantic arts,” Jaskier said. He scratched his puppet chin thoughtfully and gazed around the tavern. “He was the cousin of Valdo Marx, actually. Don’t tell anyone, but it turns out Valdo died in 1252 from an untreated case of syphilis and his cousin used his dark magic whammy on him.” Jaskier mimed the typical mage gestures for emphasis.

And sure enough a few more students leaned forward in their chairs, listening raptly.

“This cousin brought ol’ Valdo right back from the dead. You didn’t hear it from me, but the only thing keeping that deflated excuse of a bard on his feet is that string of pubic hair trying to escape his lip. His cousin had infused the mustache with enough Chaos to keep him upright. Tear it off and Valdo will crumble like a concertina right there.” Jaskier mimed crashing onto the stage where he would enjoy Valdo’s public and humiliating death.

The tavern roared with jeers and laughter, and several people pounded their drinks on the table.

Okay, maybe Jaskier went off script a little too much but gods, the laughter made Jaskier feel almost normal again.

Why didn’t anyone laugh at his jokes when he said basically the same joke when he was a man?

fic on ao3

[fiercefauna]

Here is part 4 of that old 049 thing I had. Part 3 got a lot of likes so I'm posting another one - the others can be found below. Thank you for liking.

What the Doctor saw was - himself? It was smaller, no more than the height of his palm. It sought cover in the barren cage babbling incoherently. He guessed they had wanted him to have a good look at the creature but providing it with only a felt carpet and no further shelter seemed cruel. “An egg was found in a potted plant in the security lounge” said the speaker. “That is what hatched.” The Doctor moved the lavender aside and glared at his reflection in the tinted glass. “Just what are you implying?” The disguised voice was quick to start making assumptions “How did you get that into the security lounge? The cameras were all operational and it seems you never left your cell.” 049 rubbed his temples for a good few minutes. “Not to tell you how to do your job friend, but something clearly absconded from you’re devil’s menagerie.” “Don’t you think there’s a more obvious explanation?” “You mean did I make that? Wouldn’t I have needed to at least mate with something first?” “Did you?”

049 struck the table, causing the little doppelganger in the cage to stumble and fall. He had no ill will toward the thing but this situation was ridiculous. “Do not accuse me of bestiality. That was sarcasm, Sir.” “Are other SCP’s beasts to you?” “Other SCP, You know I’ve been meaning to change that designation. Being mislabeled makes my research so much more difficult.”

“We are getting off topic 049, it’s not an uncommon human behavior, and you say you’re human.” “What behavior?” “I know you know what we are talking about.” “Who would do something like that with eyes on every wall?” “The cameras bother you?” “A Doctor’s work should be recorded!” There was a long pause from the persons behind the darkened glass behind the lavender. 049 suspected he was being made the subject of a joke. 

[lolpuns]

77 Hilarious Appliance Puns That Will Leave You in Stitches | Fun Kitchen Humor

https://lolpuns.com/?p=2014 77 Hilarious Appliance Puns That Will Leave You in Stitches | Fun Kitchen Humor Looking for some electrifying humor to brighten your day? We’ve got you covered with our collection of appliance puns that are sure to get your friends and family rolling with laughter. From refrigerator jokes that’ll leave you cold to microwave puns that’ll heat up any conversation, there’s something for everyone. Table of Contents Toggle 15 Refrigerator Puns That Will Leave You Feeling Cool12 Washing Machine Jokes That Will Have You In A SpinClean Humor for Laundry DayCycle-logical Comedy10 Microwave Puns That Are Heating Up The InternetQuick-witted Microwave One-linersRadiation Humor That’s Well-Done8 Toaster Jokes That Are Popping With Humor13 Blender Puns That Will Mix Up Your DaySmoothie Operator JokesWhirling Wordplay9 Dishwasher Quips That Will Clean Up At Parties11 Vacuum Cleaner Puns That Really Suck (In A Good Way)7 Coffee Maker Jokes To Perk Up Your Morning14 Oven Puns That Are Too Hot To HandleBaking Humor That Takes The CakeRoasting Comedy That’s Well-DoneThe Ultimate Collection Of Kitchen Appliance Wordplay For Home ChefsFrequently Asked QuestionsWhat types of appliance puns are featured in the article?How many refrigerator puns are included in the collection?Are the washing machine jokes appropriate for all ages?What makes the microwave puns unique?Can these appliance puns be used at parties?Which section has the most puns in the article?Are there any vacuum cleaner jokes in the article?How can I use these appliance puns in everyday life? 15 Refrigerator Puns That Will Leave You Feeling Cool I’m a big fan of refrigerators because they’re just so cool under pressure. You’re the coolest person I know – you must have been raised in a refrigerator. My fridge and I have a great relationship – it’s always chill. Refrigerators make terrible secret keepers because they can’t help but spill the beans when they’re under pressure. Dating a refrigerator would be nice because they’re not afraid of commitment – they run 24/7. Refrigerators never get invited to parties because they’re too cold to everyone. A refrigerator’s favorite music is definitely cool jazz. Buying a new fridge was a big investment, but I knew I needed to stay cool. Refrigerators make excellent comedians because their timing is ice-cold. The refrigerator started therapy because it couldn’t stop being cold to everyone. My fridge won an award for being the coolest appliance in the house. Refrigerators never lose their cool even when things get heated in the kitchen. The broken refrigerator said to the repairman, “I think I need to chill out for a bit.” Two refrigerators walked into a bar – it was a pretty cool scene. The refrigerator got promoted at work because it always kept its cool under pressure. 12 Washing Machine Jokes That Will Have You In A Spin After exploring refrigerator humor, let’s tumble into some washing machine comedy that’s guaranteed to leave you in stitches. These puns will add some fun to your laundry routine! Clean Humor for Laundry Day Spin Doctor: “How does the washing machine stay in shape? It does spin class!” Cycle of Life: “My washing machine and I have a great relationship—we go through many cycles together.” Rinse and Repeat: “What did one washing machine say to the other? ‘You seem agitated today!'” Load of Laughs: “I tried to explain how washing machines work, but it’s just too much to unload at once.” Delicate Situation: “The washing machine felt sad because everyone kept telling it to ‘handle with care.'” Soggy Jokes: “What’s a washing machine’s favorite TV show? ‘Spin City’!” Cycle-logical Comedy Washing Woes: “What did the washing machine say to the dirty clothes? ‘Come with me if you want to be clean!'” Tumble Trouble: “Why was the washing machine always tired? Because it was constantly going through cycles!” Soap Opera: “My washing machine has a dramatic life—it’s basically a soap opera.” Fresh Perspective: “What did the washing machine say to the carpet? ‘I’m really drawn to you!'” Heavy Load: “My washing machine told me it couldn’t handle another load. I think it needs therapy.” 10 Microwave Puns That Are Heating Up The Internet Looking to add some warmth to your humor collection? These microwave puns are guaranteed to make your friends and family laugh while showcasing the hilarious side of this everyday kitchen appliance. Quick-witted Microwave One-liners Why did the microwave break up with the fridge? Because their relationship was too hot and cold! How do you know if a microwave is a good listener? It always gives you a minute. Why did the microwave get invited to all the parties? It knew how to heat things up! What did the microwave say to the leftovers? “I’m about to make you hot again!” Why did the microwave start a band? It wanted to dish out some hot tracks. Radiation Humor That’s Well-Done Why was the microwave always so confident? It had a microwaveable attitude. What’s a microwave’s favorite TV show? “The Heat Is On”! Why did the microwave become a comedian? Its jokes were always served hot and fast! What’s a microwave’s favorite exercise? The spin cycle! 8 Toaster Jokes That Are Popping With Humor Toast your sense of humor with these crumb-tastic toaster puns that are sure to make everyone laugh. We’ve collected eight of the most entertaining toaster jokes that perfectly capture the warm personality of this essential kitchen appliance. The Polite Toaster What do you call a toaster with impeccable manners? A well-bread individual! This pun highlights the sophisticated side of your breakfast companion. The Musical Decline Why did the toaster refuse to join the appliance choir? It didn’t want to be part of a crumby group! Some toasters just have higher standards than others. The Hot Relationship Why did the blender break up with the toaster? It couldn’t handle the heat! Not every kitchen relationship is built to last. The Desperate Confession What did the toaster say to the bread? “I knead you in my life!” Even appliances understand the importance of expressing their feelings. The Romantic Statement What did the toaster whisper to the slice of bread? “You’re the butter half of my life!” Some relationships are simply meant to be. The Commitment Issues Why did the toaster pop out of the relationship? It couldn’t handle the crunch! Commitment isn’t easy for everyone, especially when things get heated. The Temperature Problem What’s a toaster’s favorite type of humor? Anything that’s warm and light! These appliances know exactly what makes a joke work. The Kitchen Standoff How does the toaster assert dominance in the kitchen? It reminds everyone that it’s the only one that can handle the heat and still pop up smiling! True resilience comes in small packages. These toaster jokes bring warmth and laughter to everyday kitchen conversations. We’ve found that incorporating these puns into casual discussions about breakfast or cooking can instantly lighten the mood and showcase your punny side. 13 Blender Puns That Will Mix Up Your Day Blender puns have a special way of whipping up laughter in any kitchen conversation. Whether you’re a smoothie enthusiast or just appreciate clever wordplay, these punny jokes will blend humor into your day. Smoothie Operator Jokes Looking for jokes that are both smooth and funny? These blender puns will definitely hit the spot! Why did the blender break up with the toaster? It couldn’t handle the heat! Relationships between kitchen appliances are always complicated, especially when one runs hot and the other prefers things cool and refreshing. How does a blender introduce itself at parties? “Nice to beat you!” The social life of a blender involves lots of mixing and mingling. What did the smoothie say to the person who made it? “Thanks for blending in all my best qualities!” Sometimes blenders make excellent matchmakers, combining ingredients that would never meet otherwise. Where do blenders go for vacation? The mix-ican resort! Even hardworking kitchen appliances need time to unwind and refresh their motors. Whirling Wordplay Blenders know exactly how to mix things up when it comes to humor! How does a blender flirt? It knows how to mix things up in all the right ways! Blenders are natural romantics, always ready to stir emotions and blend personalities together. What’s a blender’s favorite music? Anything with a good beat! These versatile appliances appreciate rhythm in both cooking and entertainment. Why did the blender get promoted? Because it always knows how to break things down! Problem-solving skills are essential in both kitchen tasks and office environments. What do you call a blender that tells jokes? A comedian with great mix-prov skills! The spinning blades create perfect timing for punchlines that leave everyone in pieces. Why was the blender feeling confident? It knew it could handle any situation life threw in its jar! Resilience is a key trait for appliances that face tough ingredients daily. 9 Dishwasher Quips That Will Clean Up At Parties Looking to add some sparkle to your next gathering? These dishwasher puns will leave your guests in stitches with their clean humor and spotless delivery. We’ve collected nine of the best dishwasher jokes that perfectly capture the personality of everyone’s favorite kitchen cleaning machine. “Why did the dishwasher start a band?” It wanted to make some clean music! This musical pun shows that dishwashers have artistic aspirations beyond just cleaning your plates. “What’s a dishwasher’s favorite dance move?” The rinse and spin! Your dishwasher might be practicing these moves every night while you’re sleeping. “How do you make a dishwasher laugh?” Tell it a soapy joke! Everyone appreciates good humor, even your hardworking kitchen appliances. “What did the dishwasher say to the dirty plate?” ‘Let me take care of that – I’m all washed up!’ This quip showcases the dishwasher’s helpful nature and dedication to cleanliness. “Why did the dishwasher cross the road?” To get to the other sink! A classic joke format gets a fresh kitchen-themed makeover. “What’s a dishwasher’s favorite TV show?” ‘Dish-aster Chef!’ This clever play on words combines cooking shows with dishwasher terminology. “Why did the dishwasher get a promotion?” It had a spotless record! Your dishwasher’s commitment to excellence deserves recognition. “How does a dishwasher answer the phone?” ‘Wash-ing, can I help you?’ Phone etiquette is important, even for kitchen appliances. “My dishwasher is so efficient; it really knows how to wash away my troubles!” Sometimes your dishwasher doubles as a therapist after a long day. These dishwasher jokes rely heavily on cleaning-related wordplay and anthropomorphizing the appliance for maximum humor. Many incorporate clever “dish-” homophones that create instant laughs when shared. Perfect for lightening the mood during kitchen chores or breaking the ice at parties, these quips have become popular in social media compilations and even appear on novelty merchandise. 11 Vacuum Cleaner Puns That Really Suck (In A Good Way) Powerful Attraction: What did the vacuum say to the carpet? “I’m really drawn to you!” This magnetic pickup line showcases the undeniable attraction between these two household items. Relationship Status: Why did the vacuum cleaner stay single? It couldn’t commit to just one dust bunny! Dating in the appliance industry comes with its own set of challenges. Career Aspirations: What does a vacuum cleaner want to be when it grows up? A super sucker! Dreams of professional advancement exist even in the appliance area. Music Preferences: Why was the vacuum cleaner great at karaoke? It knew how to pick up all the notes! Musical talent exists in unexpected places throughout your home. Diet Plans: How does a vacuum cleaner stay slim? It goes on a dirt-free diet! Fitness goals aren’t just for humans in the appliance kingdom. Emotional State: Why was the vacuum cleaner feeling down? It was going through a rough patch! Even appliances experience ups and downs in their daily routines. Travel Ambitions: Where does a vacuum cleaner go on vacation? To the Dust Bowl! Destination preferences reveal a lot about an appliance’s personality. Social Life: Why are vacuum cleaners terrible at keeping secrets? They always spill the dirt! Gossip spreads quickly in appliance social circles. Workplace Complaints: What did the overworked vacuum say to its owner? “I can’t take this anymore—I’m reaching my breaking point from all this dirt!” Job burnout affects even the most dedicated home appliances. Dating Preferences: Why did the vacuum cleaner fall for the broom? Because it swept it off its feet! Romance blossoms in unexpected corners of your home. Family Dynamics: What do you call a vacuum’s family reunion? A gathering of the dust busters! Family ties remain important even in the industry of household devices. 7 Coffee Maker Jokes To Perk Up Your Morning The Perfect Brew Line – What did the coffee maker say to the cup? “You brew me away!” This caffeinated compliment shows how coffee makers can express their brewing affection with just the right amount of steam and charm. Morning Therapy – Why does everyone talk to their coffee maker first thing in the morning? It’s the only thing that truly understands the daily grind! Coffee makers know exactly how to listen without interrupting your pre-caffeine mumblings. Relationship Status – How’s your relationship with your coffee maker? It’s brewing with potential! These kitchen appliances create strong bonds with their owners through daily ritual and consistent support during morning slumps. Job Application – Why did the coffee maker apply for a barista position? It wanted to prove it could handle the pressure! Coffee makers bring professional-level dedication to creating the perfect cup every single morning. Musical Talents – What kind of music does a coffee maker enjoy? Drip hop and percolator rock! These appliances have their own rhythm as they brew, creating a morning soundtrack that signals hope is on the way. Party Animal – Why does the coffee maker get invited to all the best parties? Because it knows how to keep everyone energized and perking along! No social gathering is complete without the life of the party brewing in the corner. Comedian Career – What did the coffee maker say during its stand-up routine? “I’ve been filtering my jokes, but they’re still pretty strong!” Coffee makers understand timing perfectly, delivering punchlines that wake you up faster than their brew. 14 Oven Puns That Are Too Hot To Handle Get ready to heat up your conversation with these sizzling oven puns that are guaranteed to make everyone laugh. These jokes are perfectly baked with humor and ready to serve at your next gathering. Baking Humor That Takes The Cake Why did the stove apply for a job? It wanted to make some hot cash! What’s an oven’s favorite type of math? Pre-calculus because it’s all about degrees! How does an oven celebrate its birthday? With lots of cake, of course—it’s a piece of cake for them to make! Why did the oven go to therapy? It had too many issues baking in its past! What do you call an oven that sings? A hot vocalist with a warming voice! How do ovens send messages? They use baker’s telegram! What did the chef say to motivate the oven? You’re on fire today! Roasting Comedy That’s Well-Done Why did the oven win the race? It had the best bake time! What happens when an oven tells a joke? The kitchen heats up with laughter! How do ovens stay positive? They always look on the bright side—usually at 350 degrees! What’s an oven’s favorite TV show? The Great British Bake Off—it loves watching its relatives in action! Why don’t ovens ever get cold? They’re always self-warming! What did the old oven say to the new one? You’ve got big racks to fill! The Ultimate Collection Of Kitchen Appliance Wordplay For Home Chefs We hope these appliance puns have brightened your day and given you plenty of material to share at your next dinner party. From refrigerators keeping it cool to vacuum cleaners that really suck (in the best way possible) these jokes celebrate the unsung heroes of our homes. Next time you’re loading the dishwasher or waiting for your coffee to brew remember there’s humor hiding in every corner of your kitchen. These puns aren’t just entertaining—they’re also a reminder that even the most mundane household chores can be opportunities for laughter. So go ahead and work these jokes into your daily conversations. Your friends might groan but we bet they’ll be secretly impressed by your appliance wit! Frequently Asked Questions What types of appliance puns are featured in the article? The article features puns about various kitchen and household appliances including refrigerators, washing machines, microwaves, toasters, blenders, dishwashers, vacuum cleaners, coffee makers, and ovens. Each section highlights the unique characteristics of these appliances through clever wordplay and humorous one-liners designed to bring laughter to everyday conversations. How many refrigerator puns are included in the collection? The article includes 15 refrigerator puns that showcase the appliance’s “coolness.” These jokes highlight the refrigerator’s ability to stay calm under pressure, its commitment to keeping things chill, and its reputation as a terrible secret keeper. They’re designed to add a fun twist to everyday kitchen conversations. Are the washing machine jokes appropriate for all ages? Yes, the washing machine jokes are family-friendly and appropriate for all ages. The collection features 12 playful puns about washing machines’ fitness habits, their relationship with cycles, and their dramatic “soap opera” lives. These clean jokes are perfect for lightening the mood during laundry routines. What makes the microwave puns unique? The microwave puns stand out because they focus on the appliance’s “heating” capabilities with quick-witted one-liners about relationships, listening skills, and party invitations. The collection includes 10 jokes that showcase the microwave’s confidence and comedic timing, such as “Why did the microwave become a comedian? Its jokes were always served hot and fast!” Can these appliance puns be used at parties? Absolutely! These appliance puns are perfect ice-breakers for parties, especially kitchen gatherings or housewarming events. They’re clean, relatable, and appeal to a wide audience. The dishwasher puns, for example, promise to add “sparkle” to gatherings with their clean humor and spotless delivery. Which section has the most puns in the article? The refrigerator section contains the most puns with 15 jokes, closely followed by the blender section with 13 puns and the oven section with 14 puns. Each collection offers a unique take on the personality and characteristics of these common household appliances. Are there any vacuum cleaner jokes in the article? Yes, the article features 11 vacuum cleaner puns that “really suck” in a good way. These jokes explore the vacuum’s relationship status, career aspirations, and social life with quips like “What did the vacuum say to the carpet? ‘I’m really drawn to you!'” They highlight the quirky personality of this cleaning appliance. How can I use these appliance puns in everyday life? These puns are perfect for lightening the mood during chores, breaking the ice at gatherings, or simply bringing a smile to someone’s day. Use them when cooking with friends, doing household tasks, or even in text messages to family members. They’re especially effective when used around the relevant appliance for context. https://lolpuns.com/?p=2014 LOL Puns

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Noni dearest! (⁠｡⁠♡⁠‿⁠♡⁠｡⁠)

How are you ? I missed ya around here.

* eye anxiously twitching *

You absolutely want to send me to the ER with more than heart problems! * aggressively makes and drinks tea * My nerves are all hell bent and under no circumstances or conditions are operating correctly!

Since you said before and please correct me if I'm wrong, I'm so shy now * proceeds into throwing myself in the ditch *

( ≻⸝⸝⸝≺ ྀི)

Sweet yet naughty Wife of mine ! Now we have more more monsters ?!?? 👀🫠🔥❤️‍🔥🙈🙊😈

I'm dying of thirst (pun intended) for more Vampire! Nanami and now Orc! Nanami is just sinfully delightful and now my head conjures maybe Werewolf! Nanami that omg help ! Someone call a doctor ! I need those antique fainting chairs and smelling salts ! Or just put me in a coffin !

If Nanami Kento vampire version joins me in that coffin something entirely different than sleeping eternally is happening and boy that reminds me of a Motionless in White "Eternally Yours" video that OMG. Has the perfect scenery for this. Oh no, maybe this is new kink unlocked. Oh no no.

The other day a customer didn't understand when I repeated his coffee order, because I got anxious and said it too fast, probably I missed something, and politely he said "come again?" and my brain froze and rotted into idk how many Nanami fics and the things he says in your stories (and other good writers around here) I didn't know if I had a epilepsy, said "yes sir", muffle a noise my throat almost did, or just drop dead. Was my hands shaking when delivering at the table his hot cup of coffee with some baked goods he asked ? Yes it was. I felt like a first day in new job all over again. lol

I'm not one to point fingers but you did a wonderful great job in damage points, Congrats to you ! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。Along with others that I should point fingers at too ! * pouts *

My head is in the gutter lately 24/7 and I'm a junkie on Nanami! The Man is haunting me like a ghost ! * mind wanders for a split second * Could he be the Phantom of the Opera? * face palms myself * You see the issue, darling? It's your fault ! Someone needs to be blamed ! I need rehab!

Idk if I strangle you pretty neck, or just darn right kiss your cheek politely and bless you ! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

With tons of love, and in more than angst and agony

Kat

Oh! Welcome home darling! Let me take your bags. How was your day? You want a little something extra in your tea tonight baby? How about a massage? I've seen how hard you've been working, my love so I brought in a little surprise for you. Head on over to the bedroom, I think you'll like the blonde you see. 😏😏😏

Jokes aside my dearest wife, I am so ecstatic that you're liking the orc nanami piece. The vamp nanami is still cooking. It's a tough meat and I wanna make sure it's so soft it melts in your mouth.

Also ok what did this coffee shop mannlook like omg YOU CANT LEAVE ME HANGING LIKE THIS??? WAS HE HOT WAS HE INCREDIBLY SEXY AND CLASSY AND KINDA OLDER??? Did he SMELL NICE?!? YOU CANNOT LEAVE ME HANGING. OH MY HOD IMAGINE NANAMI. IMAGINE SERVING NANAMI COFFEE. HIS HAND BRIEFLY TPUCHING YOURS AS YOU GIVE HIM THE CUP. AAAAA

Oops sorry for being feral. (It will happen again.)

I'm sorry vamp nanami is taking so long even though you gave me the idea so long ago. I'm just obsessed with doing a good job on this. I've had several distractions too so it's just not been a priority but I promise I'm working hard.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for interacting. I'm so glad you're here my dearest wife!! Now come on, the bedroom and Nanami await!

Love, hugs, and neck kisses.

Noni🩷