#thinking about love nothing able to be seen the same to mortals

[iammissingautumn]

thinking about how ralph is hostage to zimforth as johnny is hostage to ralph’s Deal

So no one wants to talk about Life Eater and how Johnny says “How can a god that loves you do this to you?” and Ralph laughs back “Loves me?” because Zimforth doesn’t love him. But in the end it’s gone too far. “You know who I want dead. You are mine alone, now and forever.” Zimforth tells Ralph, after he cries and begs saying he won’t kill Johnny. And you cry and Johnny knows the world will end. And he knows there’s reason to be upset with Ralph. But Johnny says he doesn’t hold it against him. That he regrets nothing. Ralph says “I love you, Johnny”. and Johnny says “Do it, Ralph”. But how could your god that loves you kill you?

[bet-on-me-13]

Culture of the Ghost Zone

SO! This is less of a full on prompt, and more of an opportunity.

I've been in this Fandom for over a year now and over that time I've seen so many little bits or lore and headcanons about the Ghost Zones Culture, but I've never seen a single post put them all together.

So, here I'll try to write down as many as I can think of, and anyone else can add their own Headcanons, or add to whatever I or someone else writes!

...

So! My personal Headcanon is that when a Ghost Passes on, it's a thing to be celebrated.

Ghosts are Immortal Beings, holding onto a desire or unfinished business that tethers them to the Mortal Plane. They live, because they are Unfulfilled, unable to accomplish the task that would allow them to Pass on, and be at peace with themselves.

So when a Ghost manages to fulfill their Obsession, manages to Pass On to the After? It's something to CELEBRATE!

Like when a Viking would die, you don't just mourn their death, you celebrate their Life! A Ghosts Passing On is much the same. When one of them manages it, there are parties across the Zone of people who knew them, or people who didn't but still want to celebrate! It's a Joyous thing when someone you know was able to find peace!

...

Ghosts socialize through Battle.

Ghosts are Immortal, Superpowered, and Stuck together for Centuries. They are going to fight, and they are going to love the thrill of it!

From the freshest of Newborns to the Oldest of Ancients, All Ghosts love the thrill of Battle. It's one of their defining traits! They have Centuries of nothing to do and energy to burn, and they devote it to the art of Combat!

And it's not just Brawls! Some Ghosts prefer to battle with Swords alone, others with their Fists and no Powers, others with their Powers and no Fists, there are entire communities of Ghosts who have specific Rules, or Customs for Combat!

In one part of the Zone, it may be common to Tackle any Ghost you see and instantly start to fight them, but in another? That would be seen as Rude, you need to throw down your glove in front of them to request a Battle!

Or in another section of the Zone you may be forced to battle without Weapons whatsoever, in another it may be Without Powers whatsoever, or with ONLY Powers!

The Fight Culture stretches far and wide, no two parts of the Zone are exactly the Same

...

Art is highly Valued.

Of course not all Ghosts are entirely focused on Battle, and even the ones that are like to focus on something else from time to time. Some of those Ghosts were Artists when they were Alive.

And they continued to make Art in Death. But this Art is Special, with all the Time in the World, a Ghost can spend Decades or even Centuries on their Magnum Opus! It would be their Life's Work, something they dedicated their entire Afterlives to!

So of course, it is respected. Ghosts know better than to ruin or destroy another Ghosts work or Art. Be it a Statue, a Painting, a Song, or a Theater Production.

...

I think that's Good for now, what do you think? Anything to add to the points I written down? Any entirely new points to add?

Go ahead!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Nothing At All (Doctor Who One-Shot)

Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader / requests are open and encouraged!

Summary: Your feelings for the Doctor are outed, and you're pretty sure he doesn't feel the same way. Thank God you're wrong, eh?

CW: angst, pining, canon typical peril, small amount of fluff, fluffy-ish

Doctor Who tag list: @nyxiethesimp @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

“The mortal is exhibiting signals of elation and relief in the presence of our enemy,” the alien cyborg said robotically. You let out a frustrated puff of air. Of course, you felt relieved to see him. He was here to (presumably and hopefully) save you from their disturbing clutches. “Subject exhibiting pupillary dilation and increased blood flow to the chest, ears and face.” 

You groaned, eyes widening slightly at the implications of just what this cyborg was stumbling into finding out. 

These particular cyborgs had taken you hostage to study. They’d never seen a human before and supposedly this meant that they just had to have you. They needed to know everything under the sun, apparently. 

The Doctor grinned and you pressed your hand up towards the glass as if to reach him through it. It was thick and sterile and there was a cool mist spraying down onto you from above- no doubt with some sterilising agent in it as well. Liked their shit clean, these cyborgs did.

 

“Right then,” the Doctor said, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, sonic clutched behind his back. “I think you’d better let my friend go, don’t you?” 

The cyborg’s metallic head stared vacantly at the Doctor before it whirred and clicked to focus on you.

 

“The subject displays a rise in heart rate upon making visual contact with the enemy.”

 

Your eyes flit to the Doctor, who is doing his best not to make eye contact with you. You’re starting to piece together just what the cyborg is currently monitoring.

 

The Doctor clicks his tongue, whipping the Sonic from behind his back and scanning the lock on your glass door. The door opens with a ‘shhhhhk,’ as the gas leaks out around the framing. 

You spring into action, darting past the canister-like tube that you’d been held in and running for the Doctor’s hand. You took it with a squeeze and the Doctor shot a beam at the cyborg, who’d started towards you. 

“Emotion identified,” the cyborg said, robotic voice slowing as the Sonic did its thing. “Human emotion… named… love…” 

You groaned, flushing deep red as the Doctor grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you forward, urging you towards wherever it was he’d parked the TARDIS. You didn’t even want to look at him. This was it. This was how you died. You almost wished the cyborg had killed you right then and there to save yourself from the misery of it all.

You’d not wanted the Doctor to find out about your little crush this way. In fact, there were about a million other ways you would have preferred he found out. 

You ran in whichever direction the Doctor told you, not daring to look behind you for fear of his expression, yes, but also for fear of seeing several angry cyborgs charging up their face lasers or something to smite you down with. 

Then, at the end of the corridor, you saw the TARDIS. She was parked half in the shadows and a cyborg was scanning it. The Doctor grunted as you both pelted it towards the blue box. You heard the telltale sound of the Sonic as he aimed it over your shoulder and fired it at the cyborg, most likely disabling the laser. It wasn’t as though the cyborg would have been able to garner much information from scanning it anyway, of course. The TARDIS had natural defences against that sort of thing, but it was the principle of the thing. 

The cyborg shut down as you narrowly escaped running face-first into its arm. With a shriek, you bolted inside the TARDIS doors, trying to avoid toppling up the stairs and breaking a bone in the process. 

The Doctor was hot on your heels, skidding to a stop to close the doors behind you both and lean back against it, skin flush with sweat and adrenaline. He panted, hands on his knees. 

It was only a minute before he was back on his feet, trying desperately to catch his breath but so rejuvenated by the narrow escape that he was bursting with energy. You were not in a similar boat. You were doing your best to just not collapse onto the floor from fear and exhaustion. 

Your cheeks were ruddy red, and sweat was beading in your hairline. You groaned irritably, desperately needing some water or a very, very long shower. And as you slowly started to bring yourself back down and your breathing started to even out, you remembered what the cyborg had said. 

“Oh, wasn’t that exciting?!” The Doctor practically yelled, energy bouncing off him in spades. “Cyborgs- brand new cyborgs sent to catalogue anything and everything! Bit of a job, but I s’pose that’s why they sent cyborgs. Not going to degenerate too fast. Oh, and their inter-cranial wiring- I mean, did you see that? Gorgeous!”

You were vaguely listening, in the very back of your brain. Hearing the words? Yes, but actually listening to what he was saying? Not so much, no. You wanted to curl up into a ball and just… roll away out of sight so you could avoid the Doctor forever. The TARDIS was basically never-ending. You could hide out there for the rest of your life, right? It would take him forever to find you if you kept moving from room to room. 

“-Hello? Are you hearing me?” 

“What?”

The Doctor pouted, eyebrows drawn down in concern. 

“Are you alright?” 

Were you alright? Were you alright? No, you were not alright. You were in love with the Doctor, and he’d avoided eye contact upon hearing that particular little factoid, which made you feel just so amazing about the whole thing. 

“Me? Never better,” you replied with a tight smile, swallowing thickly, throat dry. 

“Oh,” the Doctor said, nodding like he was trying to make himself believe it but knowing better. “Are you sure? I mean, that wasn’t all that convincing, really.” The Doctor scratched at the back of his head. You rubbed a hand down your face irritably and sighed. 

“Not really,” you finally admitted. “No.” 

The Doctor stepped forward, putting the Sonic away in his pocket. He put both his hands on your shoulders and gave you a very sincere look of genuine concern. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Besides the fact that you can’t even stand to look at me?”

The Doctor flounders for a moment, dropping his hands from you. You regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth. The Doctor, your poor un-offendable Doctor, looks hurt. You’ve hurt him. 

“Shit- I-” 

“Is that really what you think?” His voice sounds small and tinny in a way that unnerves you. You step forward, a small shuffle of a step, only for him to take one back. Ow, it feels like a fist has been rammed right through your gut and out the other side. Only that’s not what’s happened, and you’re not going to drop dead from having a hole torn right through you to avoid having to replay that memory in your head for the next thirty years. 

That flash of hurt on his face is gone the next, and it’s replaced by something that- if you’re not mistaken- almost looks angry. 

“No, is that really what you think?” 

It’s your turn to flounder now, hand hovering in the air toward him like a phantom. You’re not even convinced it’s your hand anymore. What was happening, and why was it happening? 

“I- n-no,” your voice wavered, unsure. “It’s just- when the cyborg- and you- I-” Your hands went to your head, and you forced yourself to breathe. The Doctor was fighting with himself on whether to rush forward to comfort you or remain in his protective defensive bubble. 

In and out. Once more. Okay, you were a little calmer now, your breathing evening out. With great care, you said, “You couldn’t look at me. When the cyborg told you… how I feel. I thought-” you broke off, tears springing up at the thought. “You might be done with me now that you know. That you might take be back home.” 

“Take you home?!” 

You jump at the volume of his response, eyes managing to meet his in defiance of all odds. 

“No, I’m not going to take you home. I- I didn’t want to let on I felt the same, because, well- they were calling me the enemy, and I didn’t need them thinking I had a weak spot for you. I mean, what would I do if you were gone? Cease to exist, cease to function.” The Doctor barely stopped for a breath. “Who else is going to call me out on my mismatched shoes, or- make sure I eat all the broccoli on my plate? Yuck, hate broccoli. Really, there’s no one else for me, I-” he breaks off so suddenly it’s almost jarring. 

“What?”

“You feel the same?” 

The Doctor blinks, clearly jolted out of his train of thought. 

“Course I do! You’re- well, you’re you! Look at you, how could I not?”

 

In those three seconds all of your fear, anxiety, embarrassment, anger, it all fades away, and you know everything is going to be alright. You’ll be alright, and so will he. You’ll be alright together, and what else did you need if you had each other? 

Nothing at all.

[rebeliz7]

MONSTER

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Underworld!Reader

Word Count: 5375

…

“You’re a monster!”

The words seem to echo in your head, as your wife clearly debates whether or not she should take them back. Not that you think she would, not after what happened--not after what she saw you doing. 

All the anger you were feeling just seconds ago evaporates, leaving only hurt in its wake. You can’t believe she’d scream that at you, not even while the two of you were fighting. 

The fight is over now, not that you can even remember what you were fighting about in the first place. At this point you two could have been yelling spiteful things at each other because of the phone charger, because that’s who you’ve become. 

It doesn’t take much to ignite a fight nowadays, anyways. 

You’re a monster. 

The venom in her voice, the way she spit the words at you--the moment is replaying in a loop in your head now. 

Finally, you manage to look away from her eyes and leave the room. 

She doesn’t stop you. 

…

“You good?” Bucky asks you when you join the team in the conference room, which is where your feet took you automatically. He seems to be the only one who notices, or cares. 

The world seems to tilt on you, as you remember that it’s the middle of the day, and you went to your floor earlier to get your wife--because there’s a mission and she wasn’t here for the debriefing. 

She was on the phone when you entered your shared bedroom, but she ended the call as soon as you closed the door behind you. You asked her who she was talking to, and she exploded. 

You’re a monster. 

You can’t believe she’d say that. Not after everything she knows. 

“I’m fine.” You reply, as you take a seat. 

He takes your response the same way all of them do, not completely uninterested but keeping a safe distance from you. 

They’ve never seen you as more than an ally, and Natasha’s wife. They’ve never really accepted you, and although you all live under the same roof, they’ve never concerned themselves with making you feel at home. 

You don’t belong here, you never really have. 

You’d keep your distance too, you think. They know who you are after all--what you are, you don’t blame them. 

Natasha enters the conference room, and her mood seems to invade every single corner of it. There’s no mistaking her attitude, and the anger that threatens to eat her away every time she’s forced to be in the same room as you. 

It wasn’t always like this--she loved you, you’re sure she did. But things have changed, and everything she once loved about you, now seems to have pushed her away. 

“Any takers?” Tony asks, and you finally look up. The map behind him shows a Hydra base with almost every single corner secured. 

It’s a dangerous mission, no one is eager to go because as important as it is to retrieve a nuclear weapon Hydra is threatening to use against the people in London if they don’t get what they want, everyone in this team has something to live for, even you. 

But your life, your existence is slightly different than theirs is. Maybe your time is up. 

Your father warned you though, he warned you that if you left home then he wouldn’t be able to protect you from these situations. Mortality is--not something you understand completely. You didn’t care at the time, you were in love and to be with Natasha you needed to be on earth and not--you needed to be on this mortal realm because she’s human. 

The room grows quieter the longer the seconds drag on, and with a sinking feeling in your gut, you decide to take this one. You don’t know what will happen, but if you leave now you think it’ll give the people who loved you and still do a little bit of peace. 

“I’ll do it.” You speak, and your wife’s eyes are suddenly on you. 

“What?” She asks, growls, but you don’t look at her. This is not the right place, and maybe these people are nothing more than a working team to you, but you’re far from letting them see what a wreckage your marriage has turned into. 

You left everything to be here, everything. 

“Me too,” Bucky says, but you don’t look at him either. 

“No, you’re not.” Steve tells him.

“It’s too dangerous.” Wanda’s hand is on Bucky’s arm, her concern clear. “We should plan better. Go all in, or none at all.”

The last time Wanda fought Hydra, they hit her with a powerful weapon meant to disable her powers. She was unconscious for two days, and now she’s not eager to ever face Hydra again.  

“Let’s think about this for a second.” Sam joins in the conversation, and in the blink of an eye you have a room full of people hellbent on keeping Bucky out of this mission. 

The more they raise their voice, you wonder, where was this concern when you initially offered yourself for this mission?

You’re not close to any of them, you’ve never been good at making friends, but it still hurts. 

It hurts, because they know about your father’s warning. They know you can die here too.

Natasha tries to touch your hand, and her words replay in your mind again. You move your hand away and stand up, only to walk towards Stark in the front of the room. 

“When do I have to leave?” You ask him, and he’s uncomfortable as he hands you a tablet, holding all the details of the mission. 

“In an hour.” He clears his throat, looks into your eyes and looks away just as fast. 

“Okay.” 

Natasha’s eyes are glued on you as you leave the room, but she doesn’t try to stop you. No one else seems to notice your departure. 

…

This time you go straight to daycare. Your daughter runs to your open arms the moment she spots you, and everything else loses importance, even if for a couple of minutes. 

“It’s so cold, mommy.” Elizabeth squeezes you in her arms, and you rub her back soothingly. It’s snowing outside, but the temperature is comfortable in the room, which makes you smile because Beth has always been a bit too dramatic for her own good. 

“I know, princess.” You put her down, and let her guide you towards her desk in the middle of the room. 

“Look at my unicorn, mommy.” She shows you a drawing, and the next couple of minutes you spend them with her. 

At one point you watch Tony walking in as well, and picking up Morgan before leaving with her. 

You’re a monster.

The words continue to replay in your head, making you feel hurt all over again. You’ve always thought that Natasha was the only person who didn’t see you like that. 

You were wrong though. The only person who doesn’t see you like that is this little girl, your kid.

When you leave daycare, you’re not exactly feeling better but at least you do it with the knowledge that someone cares about you, Elizabeth cares and even if you don’t come back you’ll still have a way to take care of her. 

…

“Barnes is going with you.” Natasha tells you the moment you step inside your bedroom, where she’s been waiting, apparently. 

You stop moving just inside the room, looking at her and her tensed posture. It wasn’t always like this, she loved you. 

She used to love you.

“The things I did before--” you start and she growls in annoyance. 

“Not this again.” She interrupts you. 

“I thought you knew me. I thought you knew I’m not an actual monster. I left everything for us.”

“Yeah, well.” She swallows, and her eyes find yours with only a little bit of insecurity in them. “Maybe I don’t really know you. Maybe we really did rush into this. And maybe you can't fight whatever it is that lives within you.”

Those words steal your breath away completely. This, she says, referring to your marriage, your family and the little girl you two adopted two years ago. 

She says it as if she doesn’t remember all you gave up to be with her. Not that you blame her, she never asked you to give up anything, you made that decision on your own. 

The pain in your gut seems to spread to every inch of your body, and you wonder if she knows what she’s doing to you, or if she even cares anymore.

You father warned you, of course. He told you all about humans, but you fell for Natasha and he saw it too. There was no stopping you. 

“You don’t love me anymore.” You speak, and she doesn’t look away when she answers. 

“Love is for children.” She spits out, and you try to swallow down your heartbreak. 

“Okay.” You nod, and she sighs. 

“Okay? Do you get what I’m trying to say?” She asks, and although you’re one step away from breaking down, you still meet her anger with your own. 

“You’re ending our marriage. I’m not an idiot.”

“You don’t care to know why?” She asks. 

“You already told me.” You answer as you pick up your bag from the closet. “I’m a monster, right?”

…

Everything goes sideways as soon as you and Barnes touch ground. You’re both hit with darts, and neither one of you has the time to even speak through your coms before you fall unconscious. They were waiting for you.

You wake up on the ground of a flying cargo jet. Your mouth is covered with duct tape, and there are ropes tied tightly around your wrists and ankles. You try to locate Barnes without alerting the couple of masked guards sitting a few feet away from you, but as far as you can tell he’s not here. 

You have two options, you can get out of these ropes and kill everyone on this jet but there’s no guarantee that the pilot will take you to your real destination. Or, you can pretend to be unconscious and let them believe they’ve captured you. 

“How are we gonna do this?” You hear one of the men ask.

“We’re not doing it. They’ll make the Winter Soldier do it. Hydra’s name won’t even come up.”

“It’ll be the end of the Avengers.”

They continue to talk, but you barely listen anymore. They’re gonna program Barnes to do their dirty work, which means that your mission just got more complicated than it initially was. 

You’ll have to stop a nuclear attack, and rescue Barnes on the way too. 

…

You don’t know where you land, but it’s hours after you heard the guards talk. The jet lands on an underground facility, and you’re carried inside a large cell made of glass walls. 

With no way to communicate with base, you sit up as the ropes around your wrist and ankles burn in flames at your will. 

You’re about to open up a portal on the thick glass wall to your right, when the air stills and time itself comes to a stop.

You feel the atmosphere thickening before a portal opens up on the floor a few feet away from you, and your father emerges from it. 

He’s wearing a black suit, three piece, and a large coat hanging from his shoulders. He has a cigar between his teeth, and fire burning in his eyes. 

“My kid.” He grins, while you sit back down on the iron bench the guards left you. 

“Father.” You incline your head in respect, and he sighs before shaking his foot to get rid of a few little lingering flames.  

“This is the end of your journey,” he says without sugarcoating anything, while walking closer and sitting next to you. “As a mortal, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree with unmasked sadness. “How will it happen?”

You refuse to look at him just yet, but he still offers you a cigar and you take it. 

It was your thing back at home, he’d come to see you and offer you a cigar and you’d talk for hours. You’d join him at court, and he’d offer you a cigar while you two listened to his advisors talk for hours. You’d look for him down at the pits, and he’d always offer you a cigar while you waited for the boatkeeper to count his coins. 

It’s sort of poetic that he’s come all the way up with one, to warn you one more time.

“They’re gonna torture you for a couple of hours, and you’ll let it happen because the longer they interrogate you the longer your ‘friends’ have to get here.”

“Will they get here in time?” You ask him, as he lights up your cigar and he watches until you take a long drag. 

“Yes.”

You’ve never died before, your siblings have and even your father experienced it once . You’re scared, and he sees it. 

“They won’t save you, it’ll be too late for that but they’ll save the other one, and they’ll stop the nuclear attack too.”

A part of you wants to ask him to intervene, but you know you can’t. He’ll punish you for asking, and he won’t lift a finger to intervene. He respects the law, he abides by it and anyone who’s ever dared to cross him is still paying for it and will continue to pay for it until the end of times. 

“What if I attack first?” You ask, and he takes a deep breath. The room is filled with smoke, the taste of the cigar has lost its appeal on your tongue but you still take another drag. 

Among his many qualities, your father can see what will happen according to a multitude of choices a person can make in a split second, so you know he’ll tell you the truth. 

“Chaos will erupt. They shoot the other guy in the face first, and then they release the nuclear weapon. London is wiped off, the Avengers find you to be the only survivor on this base but it wouldn’t matter either way.”

“They’ll blame me.” You conclude, and he nudges your shoulder with his affectionately. 

“They’ll blame you.”

Time goes by with the two of you smoking your cigars, and no talk. 

You were almost on your way to attack this base, his showing up at that exact second was not a coincidence. He’s come to ask you to make the right choice. 

It’s not common for him to have a say in these types of things, so you know it means more than he’s letting on. He has a chance to make something right, you both do.

“You will still be able to see your daughter,” he tells you. “I’ll make sure of it.”

When he meets your stare the fire in his eyes is burning brightly, a beautiful contrast to his skin. The dimples on his cheeks are prominent as he grins at you, and you know the same dimples appear on your face as you smile back. 

Your mother always said that the reason why he loved you the most out of all their children, is because you’re his spitting image. You always argued that the truth couldn’t be further from her statement, since out of all your siblings you’re the only one sane enough. 

But you know it’s the truth, he’s always loved the way you smile and those dimples reminded him that you’re his daughter. The first time he saw your eyes burning like his do, he laughed so loud that even the souls in the Styx River peaked out to marvel at the sound of it. 

He was an angel once, after all, and the sound of his laughter remains to be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. 

When you finish your cigar he promptly stands up, and you do too. 

“Your mother misses you,” he says just as a portal opens up on the floor and you catch sight of the raging flames that surround it. 

The thought of your mother makes you smile, you miss her too. 

“Well, you can tell her I’ll be home for dinner.” You smile, although a treacherous tear rolls down your cheek. Your father is quick to wipe it off for you, the back of his fingers graze your cheek as he smiles too. 

“She knows.” He sighs, and the flame in his eyes dissipates and leaves in its wake the saddest look that you’ve ever seen on your father’s face.

“I’m sorry you had to learn about humans this way.” He says, and the sorrow of his soul spreads all over you and even home, it seems. The flames of his open portal evaporate, and smoke rises up from it. 

“I imagine there’s no other way to learn this lesson.” You swallow with difficulty and he kisses your temple, his hands cupping your face. 

“I’ll see you home, kid.” He smiles. “That dog of yours has been missing you.”

You chuckle, as you picture the faces of your three headed dog howling into the dark skies, begging for your return. He always tended to be a bit dramatic. 

“Thank you, dad.” You tell him as he begins his descent, and he smiles one last time before he’s gone. 

…

They do come for you, they take you to an interrogation room where they begin by hitting you. They move you into a different glass room, and you can see them trying to reprogram Barnes in the next room too. 

It’s not an easy task, since he had all his triggers removed when he was in Wakanda. They try and they try, and they attempt to punch the answer to his resistance out of you but you give them none. 

Barnes looks at you, but he’s too weak and he still has his metal arm. That’s how you realize how the team will find you, the arm has a tracer. Stark installed it a couple of weeks ago, Barnes wasn’t happy about it but it’s paying off either way. 

Hours go by, and by then they’ve pulled out seven of your finger nails with tweezers. The pain is the worst, the pain still shocks you, and makes you feel smaller than you really are. 

You don’t feel any pain at home, pain is not something made for your kind. Pain is human, and you remind yourself that you chose this and endure it. 

Weakness doesn’t embrace you, it’s not natural for you to feel tired, let alone weak in the face of trouble. Which is the reason why your capturers continue to beat you, and cut you and even shoot you. 

By the time you hear a commotion, your head feels funny and your vision is blurry. They hit you in the head a lot, and the gunshots on your abdomen are already taking your life away. This body is human after all. 

You see the Captain going for Barnes, and Barnes collapsing in his arms. The glass around you shatters and Wanda’s powers swirl all around you, before Natasha falls on her knees next to you. 

She’s talking, her lips are moving and tears begin to roll down her face the moment she blinks. 

She yells something over her shoulder, more people gather around you and Natasha is touching you, but you can’t feel it. 

I still love you, you want to tell her. 

I will always love you. 

She’s crying as she holds you, her sobs make her body shake as she speaks, but you can’t feel her touch and you can’t listen to a word she’s saying. 

You’re a monster. 

The memory flashes through your mind, hurting you even worse than all the wounds that are killing this human part of you do. 

She saw you capturing two rogue demons yesterday. They were hard to find, and ever harder to apprehend. They laughed at you, and you had to remind them who you are. 

You’ve never shown Natasha that side of you, not willingly anyway. She knows who you are, she knows the things that you do or used to do, because of being who you are. 

She also knows that you left everything for her, everything. You left your home, and stopped answering your father’s call for her. 

Your father warned you, of course. He said that loving someone like you wouldn’t be easy, and he was right. She was always going to see who you really are in your eyes, there’s no escaping it, there never really was. 

Now she cries, brokenly and desperately as you die. 

…

Your mother welcomes you back with nothing but joy. She’s prepared a feast for your arrival, and your siblings are eager to hear about the way you were tortured. 

Nothing compares to the things you see down here, of course, but it’s still entertaining for all of you. 

You go back to being who you were before you met Natasha, and you visit your daughter regularly although not wearing the same face twice. She’s growing into a beautiful young woman, brave and clever like her mother. 

Natasha doesn’t forget you, and she mourns your death for years. She regrets calling you a monster, not that it makes a difference after you’re gone. 

She tries to move on a couple of times, but nothing lasts. 

As for you, you never really move on from them, not even after their mortal time is up and they’re forever gone. 

… 

[signanothername]

What do u think of the trope where Blue/Swap joins the bad guy???

I have complicated feelings about it?

I love the trope in of itself, I think it would be a really interesting trope to explore

The problem tho? I never once saw it executed in a way that grabbed my attention or made me actually love the story it was used in

It immediately goes to the “asshole” Dream and Ink and “kind found family” Nightmare gang trope

Which again, if you don’t know, I hate the trope of Dream being somehow an asshole or somehow treating Swap as tho he’s less than him

Ink is a whole different story where the fandom simply villainize him just cause he’s soulless

And the kind found family Nightmare gang is a trope I love, but just like the trope of Blue joining the Nightmare gang, it’s poorly executed most of the time (and I mean, how can you call it a “Blue joins the bad guys” when the “bad guys” are shown to be good guys????)

Like, I opened so many different fics only to be hit with the same execution of this trope over and over, eventually just losing interest bxhxhdhdh

The idea of Swap not being able to “keep up” with Ink and Dream or is somehow neglecting himself to take care of Dream just doesn’t really intrigue me (or even make sense to me)

Like don’t get me me wrong, I’m an absolute sucker for the “Swap is literally the only anchor Dream has left in his life otherwise he’d fucking break down” but I dare say Swap is more than capable of handling it without it weighing him down to a significant degree

This is Swap for god’s sake, he’s literally Papyrus’ personality but in a Sans body, if anything, he’s the one who has his shit together the most and is able to go on with a genuine happy and determined smile on his face, no matter the shit that happens to him, it would make a lot more sense for Dream to be the one to try and catch up with Swap than the other way around

I get that the trope tries to show the limitations of Swap as a mortal compared to Dream and Ink who are both pretty much immortal, but what people tend to do is that they completely twist Swap to be absolutely pathetic just for this trope to work

Which *shakes the fandom* I promise you don’t have to completely change a character up to make a trope work

Like I saw stories that made Blue to be somehow a weak depressed anxious guy trying so hard and is failing and whatnot and I question myself whether that’s even Swap anymore hchcchcjvj

I think the problem I usually see when people try and write different tropes for different characters, is that they try to make the trope make sense, and so they twist the character around to fit around the trope

Which, imho, is ineffective, you should understand the character, and then think of how the character would deal with a certain situation and how that leads to the trope you’re trying to write, one step at a time without having to ignore/erase important personality traits of the character

Of course, that doesn’t mean the trope you’re trying to write can’t fundamentally change the perception, personality, or behavior of a character, but you have to show how it affects the character to such a fundamental degree, show how can the character be heavily influenced and affected in a way that makes sense for said character

For example, I’ve seen people write Swap neglecting to eat cause he’s trying to “keep up” or sometimes Dream and Ink don’t give him the chance to cause they pressure him to go on another mission or push him too hard

Here are some problems I see with this:

- why is the Nightmare gang even somehow attacking every single day? Have they got nothing better to do? Especially with the fact they’re a found family now?

- why is Dream and Ink going out for “missions” every day if the Nightmares aren’t attacking, like damn what are they even doing?? What are these “important missions”?? Since when was Ink so obsessed with “missions”?

- Swap would absolutely not let that shit stand, if anything, he’d be very vocal about it and tell Dream and Ink to sit down and eat his great delicious tacos (Swap’s voice always has power behind it, and his actions are a direct reflection of his beliefs not what others push him to do)

- Ink has a home in the doodlesphere, he wouldn’t even be around enough to push Blue, while Swap has an AU and a brother, there is pretty much no way he’d be with Dream and Ink 24/7, and if he was somehow, you think Swap Paps would let it slide? And even if we go with the idea of Swap not being part of an AU anymore, you think Swap himself would neglect himself just to please others even when it doesn’t align with his own beliefs?

And those are only few of the top of my head, I’m pretty sure if I sat down and thought about this for a few hours, I’d be able to write you a whole other set of problems

Not saying you can never write Swap neglecting to eat, you absolutely can, it’s just needs to make sense for Swap as a character, what would it take for Swap to start neglecting his health? It’s not others pressuring him or pushing him I can tell you that much

So yeah, good trope, not so good execution (for me at least)

I guess I’m way too focused on the logic of it to truly enjoy it for what it is, but then again I always love to complicate things way more than I need to

Not every trope or story has to make sense completely, but I guess seeing Swap be completely made into a pathetic mess with no actual grounds to support it beyond “he’s mortal and his friends aren’t“ just ruins it for me dhdhhdhd

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, no other warnings

notes: i enjoyed writing this one ajfdhuaisdfuhs it was a bit of a character study for dottore, i love being able to get into his head like this

MIDWINTER

He was born without a mark. It’s not abnormal--statistically, half of the population would be born without a mark because you don’t receive your mark until your soulmate is born. Most receive theirs within the first five years of their life, if they weren’t born with one. Others are unlucky, and they have to wait up to ten. 

Dottore never received his. 

He waited years. When he was five years old, and other kids his age were starting to see the red thread that connected them with their soulmate, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was ten years old, and other kids his age were starting to feel their soulmate's emotions, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was fifteen years old, and other kids his age were finally seeing random words scrawled on their forearms reflecting their soulmate’s thoughts, he was still waiting on his mark. 

When he was younger, he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter--that one day, his mark would show up, just like how it did for everyone else. But it was hard to convince himself of that when everyday he was reminded that he didn’t have one. He was reminded by nasty kids who would push him to the ground and laugh at him, he was reminded by equally nasty adults who whispered that only the soulless and the damned didn’t receive their soulmarks, and he was reminded by his parents who stripped him down to search him for his mark everyday so they could prove their son wasn’t cursed. 

Dottore accepted that he did not have a soulmate. He would even go so far as to say he embraced it. It took him a long time to reach that mentality, years of coming to terms with it, but he firmly believed that he was better off. Having a soulmate was a mortal weakness that he was freed of--he had seen it be the downfall of many men before and he refused to meet the same fate. 

Without a soulmate, he could focus on more important things. He could devote his time and energy to his research, further the Fatui in their rebellion against Celestia, and he could do it all without the weakness that all of humanity had. 

He was stronger without a soulmate. It proved he was above mankind, beyond the limits that humans were confined to. He was better without a soulmate. 

A harsh gust of wind battered the window of his room, ice webbing at the bottom of the glass, creeping up the sides. Dottore sighed as he lifted his hand to his face, pulling off the mask that hid him from the rest of the world. 

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this again. His gaze drew to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, eyes tracing the rough, jagged skin across the top of his face--a product of the demonization cast over him by the people of his old village. Dottore’s lips twisted into a deep frown as he forced himself to look away, it had been a long time since he had even had a passing thought of it, much less dwelling on it as he was now. 

He turned away from the mirror over to the candle resting at his nightstand--dimly lighting up the dark, spacious room. Shadows reflected eerily across the room from the trees swaying in the wind outside to the small flame dancing at his bedside. A blizzard rattled the palace around him, he wondered if it was the doing of the Tsaritsa or if it was just a natural storm. 

Dottore hated the winter.

He always had. It had nothing to do with the bone-chilling weather and frequent storms. He barely could even feel the cold anymore, and he thought storms might be better for him because he could coop himself up in his lab without having to worry about the Jester disturbing his research and telling him to go on some mission. He had hated the winter even before he had left Sumeru for Snezhnaya, where the temperatures were five times as warm and the earth of the forest started to dry from a lack of rain. 

Winter had always been the unluckiest time of year for him--it was when he was originally chased from the village, it was when he was cast out from the Akademiya. Winter was when he had faced some of the biggest failures of his life regarding his research into Archon residue. Winter was when the first segment he had created was destroyed. Winter was when he was dealt a fatal blow that had made him abandon his body for an artificial one. 

Dottore despised the winter. 

He sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, that was the only explanation for why his mind was wandering to such a topic. He had been able to free himself of the shackles that many mortals were restricted by--aging, natural death, even unnatural death could be avoided, for the most part, but he still found himself chained by fatigue and hunger. He could suppress it longer than the average person but it never failed to limit him. 

He supposed that he should rest. Tomorrow there was to be a meeting with all of the Harbingers--discussion on what was to be done about the spots of the late 9th and 11th, who had met their end on a failed mission in Natlan earlier in the month. With the Captain finally returning with their bodies, it would be time to put them to rest and figure out how to move forward. He could already hear the bickering of Sandrone and Scaramouche, Arlecchino’s snide comments that just set the other two off even more. 

Dottore thought that the whole situation was ridiculous. There had been no need to send two of the newest Harbingers down to Natlan when they all knew very well that Natlan was getting more and more aggressive to the Fatui within their borders. They had been sent on a diplomatic mission, to observe, but the Pyro Archon claimed that they had made an attempt on her life. A blatant lie, but the only ones left alive to corroborate the story were the Pyro Archon’s sycophants.

It was meant to be a challenge. The Pyro Archon was challenging the Tsaritsa to do something about her butchering two of her most loyal followers, she was hoping for a war… but Snezhnaya could not afford a war right now. Their economy was failing and the dead of winter was nigh, when all crops would start dying and animals would freeze mid-trot. Famine would begin to wrap its chilly fingers around the throats of the citizens of Snezhnaya, the bitter cold would seep into the warmest homes and it was not the time for the Fatui to war with Teyvat’s strongest military. They were already struggling politically with the old-blood aristocracy breathing down their necks and with the support of the masses, there wasn’t much that the Fatui could do to press back until they were in a better position, even with the support of the Tsaritsa herself. 

Dottore pinched the bridge of his nose, the meeting was hours from beginning and he could already feel the incoming headache. He had no interest in Snezhnayan politics, he had no interest in what was to be done about the empty seats amongst the Harbingers. All he wanted to do was continue his research--the Delta segment would be returning from Sumeru at some point tomorrow to give him an update on the Irminsul project and his input was needed before Delta or any of the other older segments took any further steps. 

He let out a heavy breath as he rose back to his feet, intent on changing out of his clothes and into something more comfortable before he finally laid down to rest for the night. As he rose, he felt something soft, feather-light even, brushing against his thumb. Without thinking, he reached for a handkerchief folded tidily on the edge of his bedside dresser.

He wiped off his hands without even bothering to look, figuring that it was just the remnants of the material he was working with down in his lab but as he crossed the room to his wardrobe, that strange, weightless feeling against his thumb remained. 

Dottore’s eyes finally drew down to his right hand, curiosity getting the best of him, as always. And he stared, for a second and then two before a laugh bubbled in his chest, begging to be released. 

Not for the first time, he thought that the gods had a sick and twisted sense of humor because wrapped neatly around his thumb was that thin, red thread that supposedly tied him to his soulmate, over four hundred and fifty years late. 

He thought it was strange how everything around him moved on as normal as if his whole world hadn’t been shattered in a matter of five seconds the night before. He wasn’t able to sleep after noticing the thread and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look for the soulmark that was undoubtedly branded somewhere on his body. 

He felt weak. Mortal, again. He hated it. 

“Then we wait,” Sandrone said dryly, her sharp voice drawing Dottore back into the conversation. His eyes left the red thread for the first time since he arrived at the meeting, flickering up to where the woman was resting in a chair, a large automaton standing behind her. “Why give a seat to someone unworthy? We’ll wait until two have proven their strength and they can-”

“And how long will that take?” Scaramouche’s voice was cold and grating as he interrupted Sandrone and Dottore’s lips thinned, realizing the inevitable argument between the Sixth and the Seventh was about to begin. 

“However long it takes,” Sandrone responded, voice little over a hiss, blue eyes flinty.

“Ah, yes, yet another a bright idea from the Seventh. Let’s just leave the spots empty when enemies are on our doorstep, show even more weakness,” Scaramouche scoffed, not even bothering to hide the way he rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. 

“If you have a better idea, Balladeer, please, speak up with it,” Sandrone replied. “I’d love to…”

The thread was vibrating. 

Dottore’s gaze flickered down beneath his mask to where his hands were resting on the ebony table, tuning out the conversation around him as he focused on the red string. He could barely feel it, much less see the little vibrations, but he was hyper-focused on it now. It was uneven thrums, as if someone was flicking the thread over and over again--they were getting faster, more impatient, and Dottore couldn’t help but think back to his childhood, when he was five years old and would watch other kids his age laying in the grass snapping their string incessantly, waiting for a responding snap from their soulmate. 

His eyes flickered to the wide windows on the far side of the room, the blizzard still raged outside but he could see the sun rising in the distance. 

So, you’re finally awake, he thought to himself, gaze drawing back to his thumb as the thrums got more and more insistent. A child. His soulmate was a child right now--excited at waking up to the appearance of the thread, hoping that their soulmate was just as excited as they were. Dottore had, for a long time, believed that his heart had gone cold and dead and he did not like the ache he felt in his empty chest. 

A weakness. Just like that, he was brought down to the level of man. 

Soulmates were blinding, they caused people to act with their heart and not their head. Dottore prided himself on being a man that removed his heart from decision making. He put nothing above furthering his research--no morals, no virtues, no principles came before his success and he could not allow this to change anything. 

He had gone this long without a soulmate, he didn’t need one now. 

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off the vibrating thread no matter how hard he tried. He could hear the conversation continuing around him but it sounded like a distant buzz--nothing could break his concentration on the thread, not even himself, and before he knew what he was doing, he was lifting his pointer finger and flicking it down, right on the string. 

He inhaled as discreetly as he could once he realized what he had done, straightening in his seat. The vibrations from the opposite end had stopped instantly, and then all at once: one, two, three, four flicks. 

Excitement, but all Dottore could feel was dread sinking in his stomach.

He could feel a pair of eyes on him. Dottore forced his gaze up to where the Tenth was sitting across from him, green eyes trained on his hand. Dottore’s lips flattened. Did he know? How would he know? But even with the mask adorning his face, the Tenth must have felt Dottore’s livid glare, looking up with a sheepish smile as he motioned to his own hand, his pointer finger, as if he was trying to show Dottore what he was looking at. 

Dottore’s ring.

Of course, Dottore thought to himself dryly. He should have expected nothing less from the avaricious man.

Brighella had been brought in by Arlecchino--the Knave had spoken highly of the man’s intelligence and fighting ability, but so far all Dottore had seen from the Tenth Harbinger was a greed for wealth and alcohol. Dottore thought the man was more deserving of the title Jester than Pierro was, because all he was good for was his unintentional drunken entertainment during events. 

Dottore let his gaze drop back to his hands, where the vibrating had finally stopped--seemingly pleased with finally getting a response from him--and Dottore couldn’t push away the emotions clawing at him from every angle. 

He hated it. 

He was good at compartmentalizing all of his feelings, pushing away all of the unwelcome ones and storing them in little corners until they finally dissipated but he couldn’t this time. They were too intense and Dottore felt overwhelmed. It had barely been half a day and he was already rattled by the new circumstances--rattled enough that he was struggling to keep himself composed internally. 

Anxiety and dread were paramount, yes, but there was also pity. 

The people of his old village had convinced him that he was cursed but he knew now that he was not the cursed one--it was the one that shared a mark with him instead. 

Delta had arrived. Dottore could feel him approaching the palace, battling his way through the blizzard. He was not alone, he could feel another presence at his side--another segment--and he had a feeling he knew exactly which one it was and he was not pleased. 

His movements were sharp as he put away the materials that he was using, annoyed at Delta and his inability to say no to the younger segments. For as stubborn and prideful the older segment was, all it took was a few whines from the Iota or Kappa segment and he was rolling over doing whatever they asked. 

Dottore did not know how having a soulmate would affect the segments. He just knew it would be a distraction that they could not afford.

Would they have a mark? Dottore didn’t even know if he had a mark. He had yet to step in front of a mirror and look--it would make it too real, as if the damning thread wasn’t real enough. 

Would they be able to see the thread? Would they have their own? Dottore hoped not. He did not want them to know--not yet, at least. 

Dottore exhaled, safely storing the final vial in a cabinet too high for the Iota segment to reach and knock down just as the door to his lab was flung open harshly, shaking the cabinets closest to the door. He raised his eyebrows, turning on his heel to face the two arrivals. 

Both segments were bundled in layers, cloaks drenched with water and furred hoods littered with snowflakes. The Delta segment was frowning, eyeing the room suspiciously, and the Iota segment was bouncing at his side, head whipping back and forth as he looked around the room--his first time in Dottore’s personal lab.

Something that Dottore had tried to keep on purpose. The last segment he wanted in his lab was the Iota segment--he was the clumsiest segment, one of the two segments with absolutely no sense of self-control, letting his curiosity get the best of him even in the worst situations. He was created in the mindset of his ten year old self, right after he had been cast out from his village. Dottore had thought that he could use Iota to see the Aranara of Vanarana but evidently, Iota no longer had that childlike innocence that allowed children to see the Aranara… which Dottore should have expected considering the circumstances after which he was created.

“You’re late,” Dottore said dryly, wiping his hands with a towel as he stepped out from behind the lab table he was working at. 

“Yes,” Delta responded, voice just as dry. “There’s a bit of a blizzard outside, if you didn’t notice.”

Dottore raised his eyebrows at the snark and Delta, the most quarrelsome of the segments--except maybe Theta--only raised his eyebrows right back. Dottore’s eyes narrowed, annoyance worming its way onto his expression at the blatant disrespect. He had half a mind to remind him what exactly happened to the last segment that pushed him too far but instead, he was forced to move forward, right hand curling around Iota’s wrist just as the boy reached for some of Dottore’s notes. 

“Do not start,” Dottore said sharply--perhaps he should have watched his tone, Iota was always the most sensitive when it came to tone and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a hysterical child. 

… but Iota didn’t react to his tone. Instead, his eyes were wide and wondrous as he stared at Dottore’s hand. His right hand. Specifically, his right thumb. 

Dottore’s stomach dropped, he released Iota’s wrist in an instant, stepping away, but Iota was persistent, darting forward to grab Dottore’s wrist now, reaching to grab the red string but his hand went right through it. 

“What is that?” Delta asked, voice quiet and sharp. 

So they could see his thread, but Dottore could safely assume that they did not have their own. 

“Is it real?” Iota was still trying to grab the string--undoubtedly to tug at it just to feel the responding tug from their soulmate, just as he had felt from the opposite end this morning. 

“It is real,” Dottore wasn’t even sure if he believed the words himself but logically, he had no reason to think otherwise. “It appeared last night.”

The reaction was almost instantaneous--Delta’s eyes shot open and Iota was wailing, clutching at Dottore’s waist, letting out incoherent babbles of how he knew that they had a soulmate, and how he knew that they weren’t damned or soulless, and how Kappa and Gamma would be-

“Do not tell them,” Dottore said sharply and Iota sobered up immediately, bottom lip wobbly and red eyes teary as he peered up at Dottore, questioning. “This is to stay between us for now, do you understand?”

“But Kappa-” Iota sniffled, confused, “and the others, they’ll be-”

“Do you understand?” Dottore asked again, gaze heavy as he waited for a response from both of his segments. “We do not need any new distractions, we’re finally making progress on our projects.”

Iota looked as if he had been physically slapped, brows knit together and biting his bottom lip as he looked between Delta and Dottore, as if expecting Delta to argue with Dottore. Dottore kept his expression steady, challenging, waiting for Delta to say something. Delta was argumentative but unlike Theta, he was not stupid. He knew when to pick fights and when to back off.

Delta was searching Dottore’s face for something, and Dottore made sure to keep his face blank. “You really don’t care?” Delta finally asked.

Dottore didn’t respond, partially because even as Delta asked the question, there was another soft tug at the red thread wrapped around his thumb. He forced himself not to look down at it, ignoring it this time. He did not care, and even if he did, he would force himself not to, just like he did a million times before when he forced himself to not care that he didn’t have a soulmate. 

It was better for him, and it was better for the child on the opposite end of the string--who would grow up expecting their perfect match and be met with him.

“You were called back to report on the Irminsul project,” Dottore, a master of deflection, changed the subject rather than responding. Delta scoffed. “So, sit down and report. Enough of this nonsense. This is exactly why the other segments will not know.”

The anxiety, and the dread, and the pity was gone. It was replaced by anger. 

Dottore was sick and tired of the gods fucking around with him.

Dottore stood in front of the mirror, lips thin and mask removed as he considered searching for the soulmark that was bound to be branded somewhere on his skin. It had been a long, long time since he had last searched his body for one. He had stopped after he had been cast out from the Akademiya--having given up on acceptance of any kind, be it from strangers or finally receiving his soulmate. He didn’t even want to look now but curiosity had always been his fatal flaw. 

What did it look like? Where was it placed? His body was artificial, would there even be a soulmark?

Slowly and meticulously, he removed his shirt, scanning his torso and arms for any sign of the mark. He didn’t know what to look for--as far as he was aware, people’s marks could look like anything. The majority of people had some sort of symbol, be it a flower or animal or even some sort of item that’s a shared interest of the duo. 

Dottore had no idea what he might share with his soulmate. 

Methodologically, he turned over each arm--just as his parents would do when they were frantically searching him for a mark when he was a child. 

Nothing. 

Dottore stared at himself in the mirror, the scars that littered his body and face were stark in comparison to the rest of the fair skin. He shook his head as he finally turned around, back facing the mirror. He twisted his neck, looking over his shoulder to scan his back, gaze crawling up from his waistband until it reached his shoulders. 

Dottore inhaled sharply, red eyes widening just a bit as he caught sight of the mark branded right between his shoulder blades--a small cluster of purple flowers spread out on his skin. 

Heliotropes, he recognized and Dottore didn’t know if he should roll his eyes or laugh at the irony. Symbol of eternal devotion… poisonous to humans. 

Of course. 

Dottore thought that should be enough of a sign to end this before it weakened him even further--nip the issue in the bud before it could become detrimental. He had never actually seen someone cut their thread before but there were old wives’ tales about it and if anyone could figure out how to do it, it would be him. 

For his sake, and for whoever was on the opposite end.

… and then there was a little tug at the string--once, then twice, and then a third time. 

The moon was high in the sky now. Night had long fallen. He wondered if this was meant to be a goodnight. 

Dottore sighed as he stepped away from the mirror, sitting down at the edge of his bed, leaving the goodnight unanswered as he contemplated what he should do. His gaze shifted back to the window as a branch rattled the glass. 

Dottore hated the winter. Time and time again, it proved to be the worst months of his life… but a part of him--deep, deep down--wondered if this was all too bad because as he watched the ice creep up the frame of the window, this time with the phantom vibrations of his soulmate flicking at the string, it was with a bit more fondness than there was the night before.

—-

reblogs appreciated!

—-

[loveofdetail]

Let's talk about Gale's sex scenes

I love the astral sex scene and it means so much to me, and I have some problems with the way I've seen it talked about.

I should start by saying this post is not intended to critique anybody's personal preferences. The license to do Whatever The Fuck in an rpg is sacrosanct and there are no wrong choices. But I’ve also seen people imply that the astral scene is not “real” sex, or that Gale romancers “deserved more.” I hope I do not have to explain why that's kinda fucked.

Additionally, I think it is a saddening misread to call the astral scene “performative” in contrast to the bed scene (which gets correspondingly framed as “showing Gale that you want the real him.”) But doing a grandiose magical gesture IS the real him!

I know I'm not alone in viewing Gale as autistic; for me the astral sex scene is a big contributor to that. For one thing, it resonates with the concept of having unusual sensory wants. For another, it reads to me as Gale opening up and showing his passion for magic to the PC in a way he’s never been able to with another mortal before. What neurodivergent person has not had someone view their passion as too weird or too over the top? Have you ever been at a level of enthusiasm that wraps back around into seeming “performative” to others? Ever wanted to show a loved one something that matters to you, but worried they’d never understand—or, worse, they’d actively cringe?

In the astral sex scene, Gale shows the PC how much he loves the Weave (which is not the same as loving Mystra), and the PC does not cringe.

If all the glowing merging translucent bodies, the nebulae, the multiplying limbs, the spinning, the trippiness, the celestial music—if all these trappings made you, the player, cringe: there is nothing wrong with that. But I do think it is a misread to say that the bed version constitutes “helping him heal from his trauma.”

Maybe I have a hair-trigger for anything that implies “becoming more sexually normative = character growth.” Or “vanilla sex = a more intimate connection.” But they are just such tiresome concepts.

I understand that some of the dialogue in the game also suggests that idea, but all that dialogue is coming from the PC. What Gale says is that having bodily sex is “a small gesture toward your comfort.” This has been widely glossed over, imo.

Ultimately the two versions of this scene fulfill two different narrative functions: the bed version is to show the player that Gale will set these wants aside for you should you ask him to. But the astral version is there to show the player who HE is and what HE wants. And I think it is sad to write off this beautiful, lovingly crafted, unique and creative approach to a sex scene as merely something “performative” that he only does because Mystra made him think he had to.

“Stay with me now. There are endless worlds out there. Countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. Too much for one night... but we shall try.” I've admittedly got a ways to go in the game, but so far this is my single favorite line of dialogue. I genuinely don't understand how people can hear this line, the way it’s acted, and think it's just for show. He knows he's about to get weird but he longingly, vulnerably asks you to stay there in his weirdness with him.

Many writers, when they are writing something kinda out there, have doubts of the form Who is this even for? If the astral scene just isn’t for you I don't have beef with that. But the people who saw the astral sex scene and went "Oh, my god, now THIS is FOR ME"—are perhaps people who only very rarely get to watch a sex scene and have that reaction.

I'm glad Baldur's Gate brought something this beautiful to this particular table and I think it deserves consideration as a serious element of Gale’s characterization.

[whereserpentswalk]

There was a mermaid who had chosen to go onto land, who had given up her tail for legs, her fangs for square teeth, her feathery gills for pretty pink lungs. And she grew to regret it. She had fallen in love with a mortal man, and found him to be nothing but a fool.

She hadn't realized how diffenet her new body was. She knew she would have legs, she prepared for that, but she didn't prepare to really be a human woman. Her silver scales were now replaced with pale skin, which seemed so weak and easy to hurt to her, she felt flayed alive. She wasn't prepared to wear clothing on her body, which felt like being trapped in a net. And not to mention how slowly she moved, how strange and disturbing it was to not be able to swim miles and miles whenever she needed to, she was trapped in one little peice of the world.

Not to mention, she had to eat human food now, which was set on fire before it was served to her, and it was sometimes made of plants. She wanted to vomit just thinking about it, but her new body needed it to live, and she cried through every meal. And just as bad where her new reproductive organs, that were so much more complex, and bled for her constantly, and made it feel like she was always wounded.

The worst thing about her reproductive organs was how her husband treated them. She had fallen in love with him from the sea, watching him and knowing so little about his kind or his disposition. He wanted to mate nearly every night, but wanted no hatchinglings to come from it. And human mating itself was disgusting to her, instead of just laying eggs for him he'd somehow be inside her. She didn't want to imagine the details. She made excuses to keep him away, but she knew some day she would run out, and wept knowing it would happen.

Her husband was a strange human. She thought he was a prince when she watched him from the water but he had a diffrent title as a duke of some sort, bowing to a king on a different continent. She had seen him in uniform and thought him a hero, slaying dragons and orcs and devils and harpies and goblins and witches. But all the dragons and harpies had fled to the skies, and the goblins and orcs deep underground, and the devils and witches had gone into hiding. She saw him set fire to a witch once, she wasn't sure she was a witch though, but it wasn't brave, all she did was cry, he didn't fight her at all.

All her husband's wars were with other humans. Sometimes humans with diffrent flags who seemed the same as them. Sometimes humans who had been on the land longer then him, who his armies pushed further and further from the coast. Sometimes his own subjects, weeping and broken masses, people he hurt, those were the wars he won the most. She wanted to help him just to be with him, but she learned human women weren't allowed to fight. So when he was at war he was away, and when he wasn't all he talked about was war, and money, and the awful things he wanted to do with her.

She expected to be his wife in a way she wasn't. She learned human wives were treated like children to their husbands, that they had to obey them, that he could yell and her and hurt her just like he did his servents. She learned he was able to yell at his servents, she was allowed to too but she didn't. She learned things she had to do, she had to become civilized, whatever it meant to be civilized. She wasn't allowed to go outside the palace, not alone. And she wasn't allowed to pray to the gods of the deep, she had to pray to the one god of the humans, a bleeding god on a torture device, a sad god, a weak god.

There was one final night when her husband tried to force her to mate with him, more forcefully then he ever had before. He hit her. And though she didn't have fangs anymore she bit him so hard he bled. He tried to restrain her, to undress her, to undress himself. She ripped off the part of his body he tried to pit inside her. And she thought it so strange, how blood looks on land, flowing to the bottom as opposed to floating away.

She walked to the water after that. And slowly walked in, losing herself in the waves. Some people think she became a mermaid again, and that she's safe in her kingdom in the deep. But others think she walked into the water knowing she'd stay a human, and let the ocean filling her lungs set her free.

[murfpersonalblog]

"I agree that Lestat had nothing to do with [Paul's death] directly. However, if we remember that episode, Paul was like: 'That man is a devil, he got into my head!' And my whole thing was, I mean Lestat did get into his head.... I don't believe Lestat pushed him to do what he did? But obviously Paul was very mentally ill. That, mixed with him being hyper-religious and hyper-Christian, I feel like that intrusion of Lestat into his mind? Maybe it made him feel like his temple was unclean, or it made him feel like the devil got into my head and now I am soiled now I am bad. And it probably pushed him to do that. So I don't believe Lestat did do that to [Louis'] brother. But I think [Lestat's] intrusion into [Paul's] brain probably played a role in him doing that, so I'm glad they spoke on it here."

WOW | Interview With The Vampire 1x6 | Reaction & Commentary - FrankFreezy (23:23 - 24:37)

I LOVE this so much.

Cuz it goes back to what I was saying here: Louis has ALWAYS loved Lestat--beyond reason, religion, family, himself, Claudia AND Paul combined. I HATE when people act like Louis never loved Lestat, or never showed Lestat how much he loved him. Pay attention, y'all!

IWTV S2 Ep8 Musings - LDPDL: Burning Questions (Pt2)

EVERYONE called Lestat the Devil. Louis KNEW what Lestat did to Paul--both at the family dinner, and what Paul said later on the roof. He knew it was all true, cuz he'd seen it with his own eyes, and he'd FELT the same way--Louis felt unclean & soiled & bad, and RAN out of 1132 after they had sex the first time; and RAN to the confessional screaming "HELP ME, Father, he's in my head!" after Paul died.

But the gothic horror/romance is that despite seeing Les at his absolute worst, killing all those priests like an utter demon, LOU CHOSE LESTAT ANYWAY. And it's been (literally) KILLING him ever since. "I run to bad beds!" His 128+ dead men in SanFran are all Les!

It's why I love Ep5, as it's just more of the same: seeing Lestat at his worst and Lou STILL loving the monster AND the man in Ep6 (my fave episode in the whole series so far). Seeing Les try to kill Claudia in 1x7 and STILL mourning him all the way into 2x7.

There's A LOT of Les' trash Lou settles for & accepts, inc. even the suspicion that Les ad something to do with Paul's death; inc. Les abusing both him & Claudia. It's not until Les SPAT on Lou's love before a whole crowd of lynchers with "Come to Me" that the last straw broke how much Louis could forgive, cuz "Come to Me/Viens a moi" was when Les got into LOUIS' head and drove HIM to death (vampirism) too, literally in 1x1 & figuratively in 1x6.

The fandom doesn't talk about the dubcon/noncon/mind-rape of the Come to Me/church scene as much as we should, and how much of a violation it was for Les to be barging all up in Lou's head the way he was, while Lou was literally suffering an entire grief-triggered drunken suicidal mental breakdown. Lou's POV makes it seem more like lethal assault (I'm being mortally hunted; my life/soul's in danger by the white Devil). But Lestat/the script acknowledged the predatory nature of Come to Me during the Trial, when Les flipped it to make it seem like Lou had (sexually) assaulted HIM instead (my purity/chastity's in danger by the Black pimp).

This violation of their relationship is IT for Louis ("those were HIS words! F**k you!"). Their history is sullied, Lou's name & reputation (personhood) is dragged through the mud & soiled. ("I was dead.") With Claudia dead and Les betraying them by participating in the rigged Trial, Lou was able to believe Armand's weak AF lies for 77 years ("bad beds"); and sacrifice his love/marriage, "kill" Les & get divorced (Lou's most non-Catholic move of all, LOL) for good.

Les had ONE chance to be honest about the Trial (the 2x8 Tower Scene) & totally blew it by letting Armand get away with "Banishment." It all comes home (literally, in NOLA), when Lou finally stops running AWAY from uncomfortable truths, and asks the burning questions about Les that REALLY define their relationship.

Cuz it's not really about the Trial, or even Claudia; it's about Paul, the catalyst for Louis' entire arc--she was just the final/ultimate casualty. Everyone important in Lou's life has just been another replacement for Paul, "I loved him more than anyone on earth." All the people he had sit & TALK to him--Lily, Lestat, Claudia, Daniel, even Armand (to an extent), are all just Lou looking for Paul--understanding, acceptance, and love--i.e.: his companion. Someone he can confide all his secrets in, who won't judge/condemn him, and who'll accept & love him for who he is.

Sam said Les is Lou's "soulmate." Even though his heinous antics constantly proved Paul RIGHT, Lou also loved when Les put in the effort to prove Paul WRONG--he CAN behave & act like a human & charm the absolute pants off of Louis by just sitting on a park bench or sofa & TALKING to Louis; CONNECTING with Louis on a deeper level than even sex (which Lou already said is the best he's EVER had--and ya boi got around in the 70s-2000!).

But Les can also match Louis' freak; show his fangs, and be an utter monster Lou ALSO loves; cuz there's something dark in Louis too, that Jacob said "needs friction."

I said before that actual saints like Jonah & Paul are way too nice for Louis; too good & pure for this world. Lou LIKES Bad Boys; he likes men who're effed up & broken, cuz it makes HIM feel like he's not alone--HE'S not so bad after all. Vamps are just crabs in a bucket, and Lou's own hyper-Catholic brain treats it as a form of punishment, that he "deserves" effed up devils like Les & Armand. Beaten down all his life, and hating himself, full of self-loathing, Lou never knew his own worth--"let's meet vampires WORTHY of your love!" In 1x5 Lou stopped putting in the effort to take care of himself & their family/household ("ignoring all other duties of the role Claudia once mocked me for: the unhappy housewife"), and stopped confronting Lestat about his BS ("He treats us like sh*t and you take it! Why is that?!"). He's about to burn Les alive in 2x8, then just visibly gives up (puts the fire out), to "kill" Les by marrying Armand (who he's not even in love with, and who KNOWS Lou's only with him to spite Les) before the ink on Loustat's divorce papers are even dry.

It's only after Daniel FINALLY helps Louis claw his way out of Armand's clutches that he understands what Claudia meant about him having never known or loved himself ("Who are you, Louis?"). Lou's TRUTH AND RECONCILIATION required that he work on bettering himself, and allowing Lestat the chance to better himself too. That "friction" was toxic AF, and they both needed a real CLEANSING, which only started when Lou opened his mouth to ask Les the truth (the false-start in 1x6 about Paul; and the real-start in 2x8 about Armand).

So yeah, I love what Frank said, cuz IMO people in the fandom miss a lot of the horrible things Les does INDIRECTLY, in order to forgive the horrible things Les does DIRECTLY--just like Louis did. But just like Louis, it's possible (& totally valid) to love the man while acknowledging the ways he IS a monster, who needs to come clean & be honest, and start taking accountability for the ways he (in)directly contributed to both Louis & Claudia (& Paul's) demise.

[in1-nutshell]

Hey, not sure if you're down for writing a continuation of the “Megatron 'accidentally' adopting human Buddy who fears nothing” post. But there was a line “Rung has a line of bots that express the same worry for Buddy one day doing something dumb and not being able to come back from it.” that I think should be expanded upon. Dangerous things are constantly happening to the lost light crew and Buddy must have the devil's luck to come out of everything that happens unscathed. I'd like to see that luck run out. I'd like to see the crew panicking because Buddy got hurt badly and there's been no news if they'll recover or not. I want to see Megatron deal with the impending mortality of his newly adopted kid poorly. And I want to see everyone on the lost light panic even more because if Megatron doesn't start a war if this kid dies, Whirl absolutely will. P.s please let buddy live, I may crave angst, but not that much.

Have a good day, love your writing

Ooooh! Have you been peaking at some of my drafts? haha! I have been thinking about what would happen if Buddy ever got hurt on Megatron's watch. But now more bots are going to watch.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron and Fearless Buddy who gets seriously hurt

SFW, familial, platonic, angst but happy ending, mention of injuries but nothing graphic or detailed, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

As we all know Buddy fears nothing

And this put some stress on their friends and new dad, Megatron.

“Hey Megs!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus, don’t call me that.”--Megatron

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Anyways I was wondering if you’ve seen Buddy anywhere. They were supposed to show me something?”--Rodimus

“Show you what?”--Megatron

“Something about being a present for being Brainstorm’s ‘Guinea pig’?”--Rodimus

Buddy flying by on a jet pack.

“Hi Roddy! Hi Megs! Bye Roddy! Bye Megs!”--Buddy

“…”—Rodimus and Megatron

CRASH!

Both mechs start running

But as time continues to go on, their little antics are just normalized. Sure, there are still some bots that know the true fragility of the human life span. Such bots included but not limited to Ratchet, First Aid, Velocity, Swerve, Rung, Megatron, and Whirl

“Where are you going with those pilars?”—First Aid

“It’s nothing illegal, yet.”--Buddy

“What type of answer is that!?”—First Aid

But for the most part the crew thinks Buddy is almost as durable as they are. Yes, even Megatron has been guilty of this type of behavior. He isn’t too proud of that.

“C’mon Fleshy jump and do a flip!”—Random Bot

“Bet—”--Buddy

“I think not.”--Whirl

“Whirl?!”--Buddy

“If you break your dumb fragile bones who else is going to come with me on planet expeditions? Cyclonus? I think not. He sucks out all the fun.”—Whirl

“I am literally right here.”--Cyclonus

So, let the angst begin.

The place was being invaded by space pirates.

The pirates where taking the bridge and had successfully barricaded themselves in.

“Why can’t we just break the door down?”--Buddy

“The main room has delicate equipment. One wrong move…”--Megatron

“Okay that’s a bad idea then.”--Buddy

“We just need an opening from the main door and we can figure out the rest.”--Rodimus

“Hey, I’m tiny enough to fit through the crack under the door. I can open the door!”--Buddy

“Absolutely not.”--Megatron

“For once I’m agreeing with him.”--Whirl

“Hey, its not like we have many options here. Unless someone else has a better idea then I am quite literally the only thing stopping these guys.”--Buddy

“…go then…”--Megatron

He was going to regret saying it like that. The computers dashboard in order to unlock the door or at least give it an opening. So, when they were sure that the aliens weren’t looking, they sprinted over to the console by swinging up with a grappling hook to the chair and began running towards the buttons.

They had indirectly activated the plasma screens.

These were holoscreens all over the ship that would show what was happening on the bridge. Everyone had a front row seat to Buddy sprinting across the console. There where cheers as Buddy was coming closer and closer to the button

“They made it!”--Rodimus

“Way to go Buddy!”--Tailgate

“Just press the button.”—Ultra Magnus

“That’s my Amica—”--Whirl

It was right there…

The alien came out of nowhere…

“EW! A Rat!”--Alien

“A ra—"--Buddy

They swatted Buddy across the room in one swift movement. They’re tiny body hurdling across the room and off screen. A small sickening crack was heard.

It was barely noticeable.

But it caused a deafening sound across the entire Lost Light.

 Good news for the crew, Buddy’s shoe came off from the force of the hit and successfully pressed the button opening the door.

Everyone is lined up to take these aliens down.

Megatron and Whirl are at the forefront of it.

Megatron is trying to find Buddy while Whirl is absolutely destroying everything.

Megatron spots Buddy slumped over in the far corner of the room.

No motion, nothing

He is just frozen in place.

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“…”--Buddy

“Megatron! Move!”--Ratchet

Ratchet snaps him out of it as he is trying to help Buddy.

Megatron snaps out of it a cover him.

Buddy is rushed out an into the medbay.

Everyone is waiting.

The sudden gravity of Buddy’s mortality weighs heavily on the minds of everyone involved.

Megatron sulks in his room thinking about how he failed them. He can’t bear to sit by Buddy in the med bay. Ratchet understands and tells him that he when Buddy wakes up.

Whirl on the other hand, stays by Buddy’s bed side the entire time.

“Hey Tiny. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve open those little eyes… You mind opening them up?”--whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Fine be like that…”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Well, you’ve missed a lot since you took that hit. One you have a ton of inner most energon by your room and a growing number of get-well gifts. I personally made sure none of you’re a secret bomb. Megs is still in his room and its giving everyone the creeps.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“… Don’t tell this to anyone… but we miss you, you scared the ever living Pits out of us.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

Whirl has lost every good thing in his life. He is going to make sure that this one thing does go so soon.

Buddy does wake up

“Hye Whirly Bird?”--Buddy

“Buddy?!”--Whirl

“Why you looking at me like that? Someone died?”--Buddy

“You nearly did Tiny!”--Whirl

“But I didn’t, huh? It takes more than a hand to stop me.”--Buddy

“…I guess huh.”--Whirl

Megatron is zooming over when he hears. Buddy is trying to play off their injuries to try and keep the peace.

“Hey Megs.”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“You okay? You look like you’re dying.”--Buddy

“… that was a poor choice of words.”--Megatron

“Yeah I guess— woah, Megs?"—Buddy

Megatron gently holding Buddy’s hand the best he can

“Just let me hold you please, just a little bit.”--Megatron

“Sure Megs.”--Buddy

As they are recovering Buddy is treated with a bit more respect than they had before. Good thing too, they did after all manage to save the ship after all.

[dragonmurray]

Poisoned Truth

Loki x female reader

Triggers - smut, 18+, mild angst

Description - hydra had poisoned the team with a love drug. What will you do when you’re the only one without a lover?

————

You were screwed. No two ways about it. Death was coming for you. The irony in that phrase.

A simple mission with the Avengers turned out to be a trap set by Hydra. Tony, Nat, Clint and you headed over to a warehouse thinking you would be collecting some valuable intel on the latest leader to step up in Hydra. It was too late when Tony detected the gas in the building, you were all infected.

The flight back in the jet was spent scanning, researching, testing everything possible to work out what they had poisoned you with, but 5 minutes in to the flight you were starting to realise.

Tony was desperate to get to Pepper, Nat to Bruce, and Clint to his wife. Desperate with need. Overwhelming, soul crushing need. From the little Tony could gather the Hydra drug would drive them to madness, boil them from the inside out unless they found their completion with the one they love.

Hydra were placing their bets on no Avenger being able to find true love. They would lose that bet, for the most part.

You however? Agent y/n l/n? You had no such love. Not that anyone knew anyway. You made it back to the tower, the others running to their loved ones for some life saving alone time. You slowly stumbled back to your room, a thin veil of sweat starting to cover your body. Alone.

You closed the door to your room and sank down to the floor. A weird kind of acceptance seeping in to your brain. So this is how it would end. Thwarted by the one enemy you could never defeat, love and orgasms. How poetic. You weren’t a virgin, you’d had your share of partners, but every one a disappointment. No man had ever taken the time to learn your body, to relish in your pleasure instead of their own. You’d never known pleasure from another.

An ache in your core starter and your mind drifted to the man you had dared to hope would have changed that. A secret hope he could never know of. He, a God, could never lower himself to the standards of a mortal. Sure you spent most of your free time together. Reading, playing tricks on each other to pass the time. You were one of the few to get him to open up and on some occasions, laugh. But he was also quick to tell you of his lineage, his power, his birthright.

You were just y/n. A basic mortal with some killer fighting skills. Nothing more.

A knock on your door had you jumping and groaning at the same time as the heat flared in your body.

“Agent?” Loki called “agent you need to let me in”

“Go away Loki, you can’t be near me. You can’t see this. It’s fine just go” you replied. Keeping your voice as flat as possible in the hope he wouldn’t care enough to stay.

“We both know that’s not true. I’ve seen, and heard the other return. I know something is very wrong now let me in” Loki sounded aggravated. So he wanted to know what happened, good for him, he can read about it later you thought.

Shivers were starting to run down your spine. His proximity not helping your situation. You may not be ready to admit your feelings for the god, but clearly your body knew. It was getting harder to form coherent thoughts so you didn’t bother to respond to him. Resting your head back on the door you closed your eyes as pain started to deep in to your limbs.

“Agent!” An urgent voice right in front of you. You open your eyes to see Loki knelt in front of you, his eyes taking in the sight of you. Dazed, hot, your breathing increased.

“How, how are you here Loki?” Tony restricted his magic in the compound while he earned his place in society.

“My dear y/n. If you think there is anywhere in the nine realms I couldn’t reach to get to you, you are so very mistaken” he reached a hand forward to cup your face.

“NO!” You shot up and tried to back across your room, anywhere to get some distance from him. His proximity was sending your body into overdrive. Your mind couldn’t comprehend his words. Was this the drug? Making you see and hear things? “Loki you can’t be here. The mission went wrong. Hydra, drugged us. It’s bad. I can’t… you can’t…” your eyes fluttered and your legs faltered as a wave of heat came from your core.

In a second Loki was beside you, catching you as you fell. You cried out as his body made contact with yours. Part pain, part desperate need. Loki couldn’t wait any longer, his palm touched your forehead and he dove in to your memories. A sigh escaped him as he realised why you were trying to escape him.

“Y/n, I am here. You have nothing to fear. It would be my honour to stay with you, foolish mortal” a smile tugged his lips “I will not stop until you are cured, and I can’t guarantee I will after that either”

Your eyes fluttered open as you tried to take in his words. “I…” that was all he allowed before his lips crashed in to yours. I’m an instant heat burned through you with the power of a thousand suns. No pain, just need and fulfilment. This is what you needed. He is what you needed.

A moan escaped your lips as fingers caress your scalp, tugging your head to align you more perfectly with his mouth. His sinful, achingly beautiful mouth. You could come apart right now. A tiny voice in the back of your barely functioning mind started to whisper dark thoughts, telling you this wouldn’t work. No one else has managed to pleasure you fully, you’re broken.

Loki couldn’t sense your hesitation. He needed to silence it. After months of yearning, never daring to risk their treasured friendship, he finally had you. Upon seeing the state of the other avengers on their return he knew he had to find you. He couldn’t lose you.

His mouth left yours and blazed a trail down your neck, stopping to nip and suck at your pulse point, pulling a ragged moan from your throat and silencing all voices in your head. Your fingers dove in to his hair and pulled him closer. Still half collapsed in to each other on the floor he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist and ground in to him as moans spilled from your lips. Loki intended to lay you on the bed but it was too much for him. He slammed you in to the wall, teeth latching on to your neck as his hand found your hardened nipple beneath your suit and rolled it between his thumb and finger.

You cried out, core tightening as you felt yourself close to cumming already. Gods how you wanted him, needed him. You had never felt like this before. He groaned as his hips rocked in to you. “Gods y/n, you feel perfect against me. I need to touch every part of you, taste all of you” with a wave of his hand your clothes melted from your body. “Perfection” he said as he looked down at you, still wrapped round his waist. Your head back and eyes closed in pure bliss. The pink tint to your skin brought him back to reality, he needed to save you.

His hands gripped you tightly as he spun round and placed you on the edge of the bed. With no time to think about your new position he dove between your thighs, mouth latching on to your clit and sucking hard. The force of it slammed in to your nerves and had you screaming out, back arched in pure pleasure. You had never felt anything close to this before, even from your own hands. His attack on your clit didn’t let up as he slid 2 fingers into your pussy, curling to find your spot and pumping relentlessly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t breath, not enough air in your lungs to even scream out as an orgasm ripped through your body with enough force to bend your backwards.

When you finally came down you gasped for air. Your foggy brain trying to work out what happened, how it happened. Blinking back to reality you looked down at Loki still sat between your legs looking at you with awe in his eyes.

“How… how did you do that? Is it the drug?” You asked.

He looked at you confused. “I’m unsure what you mean Y/n. Has no one done this to you before?”.

You shook your head. “Not like that, no one’s ever made me cum Loki” you looked away and started to try to cover yourself from embarrassment. He took your hands to stop you. As he did another wave of heat started to build, the drug wasn’t done with you yet. You whimpered and Loki realised your pain.

“Mortal men cannot comprehend the goddess that you are Agent. It seems you have been waiting for me for far too long…”. He climbed up your body, his hand sliding into your hair and…..

And I’m a really mean writer! Do I carry on?!

[gachagon]

I watched the newest episode of The Amazing Digital Circus, and yeah I can already tell this is gonna be a great show. I think it manages to handle both its comedy and horror pretty well without one being less effective than the other.

The pilot was great, but I really like that episode 2 shows us a better picture of the characters than what we already thought about them. I think the most surprising character who's development was made really clear was Pomni.

In the pilot she's naturally apathetic and also freaking out about everything, and the promo material with her included seems to follow that same track record, but here in this episode Pomni does what Ragatha's been trying to do with her the whole time! She consoles this cute little gummy gator guy about his own existence and stuff in a really mature way that we just haven't seen Pomni do before.

This episode is really about the fear of not belonging or having an impact on other people. The beginning nightmare sequence where Pomni imagines herself being abstracted versus the end with Kaufmo's funeral really shows that what she's most afraid of is that she ultimately won't have a place here at all, even if being there terrifies her.

I think Pomni has come to terms with the idea that she won't be able to leave or find an exit right away, but the fear of not fitting into her role as the Jester and doing the same song and dance for eternity eats away at her.

The funeral is a really good coping skill for all of the people in the Circus (minus Jax who just didn't go to the funeral at all) because it eases the fear of not remembering any of the people you spent all that time with, but also eases the fear of being forgotten.

I can imagine the idea of Gummigoo not remembering Pomni but still being out there "Out of bounds" is sad, but unlike the people in the circus he can always come back and in a weird ironic twist always has a place in the world he's in. And even if he doesn't remember Pomni, she'll always remember him and that's the really important part.

Also can I just say that I love this little crocodile/gator man T_T He showed up with such a silly concept but I think he really added a lot to the episode. It makes me wonder what would've happened if he really was allowed to stay in the circus despite not being real.

The episode has a lot of themes about being aware of your own mortality and why you're even alive and what purpose you serve. And in the end, for Gummi he was able to stomach the truth of his own existence with the help of Pomni, but he decided to just keep it a secret from everyone else up above.

After he gets "poofed" its safe to say he'll always still exist just not in the way Pomni saw him. And whenever Cain wants to use him for a future quest, he'll still have the same old memories of his friends and his "sick mom" who needs syrup, but the knowledge of Pomni and being Out of Bounds will not be there.

Is it better that he doesn't know what's out there? That his mother isn't actually real, and that he and everyone he knows is just 1's and 0's in a computer? Or is it better if he does know and is able to cope with that reality? Likewise, should Pomni really even worry about trying to leave this world she's been forcefully thrust into, or should she just go with the flow and accept her place as the Jester in the circus?

Truly an "Ignorance is Bliss" kind of story. We already know from this episode alone that the one thing Jax craves is chaos but that's not because he's fallen in line with being a rabbit in the game or because he wants to leave.

I think Jax is an excellent parallel to Pomni in this episode. Where Pomni tries to peacefully cope with her place in the circus and possibly coexist with the world around her, Jax wants to do nothing but cause as much disruptions as possible. Jax has accepted long ago that he's not leaving, but instead of losing his mind over it he's just become an incredibly selfish person who only wants to take his entertainment from other people. He uses his veneer as the trickster rabbit to cause as much problems in their journey's as possible all so he himself won't go crazy.

And even though in the end he's not there to witness what happens to the candy people, I think just having something new to think about is enough for him in a weird way. While Pomni struggles with feeling like she belongs, Jax has been there for a long time and his biggest struggle is "disappointment". It's being so mind numbingly bored that you forget yourself.

This is leading me to believe that what causes people to abstract isn't finding the exit or thinking about the exit, but that it's more personal than that. Abstraction seems to be when someone really truly breaks under the pressure of being in the circus itself. All of the members of the circus seem to cope with being in the circus in different ways. For Gangle it's drawing and art, for Ragatha it's throwing herself into all of the journey's and just immersing herself as an actual "ragdoll" who's going on quirky adventures, Pomni just potentially found her way of coping which could be trying to just help other people with their own baggage and being an ear to listen to, and Kinger has by all means lost his marbles so as long as he's not thinking about how hard it is being in the circus he's fine.

I think Zooble's is to just not go on the adventure's at all or maybe we just haven't seen how they cope yet. I'm guessing that Kaufmo didn't really have a coping skill, either that or it became too much and he abstracted. I think his obsession with finding an exit had something less to do with the exit itself making him go insane, and more about the possibility of him remembering something he wasn't supposed to.

He probably regained his memory in some way and that was what led him down the spiral into abstraction, looking for a way out in any way he could.

[drstrangedaughter]

𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍’𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒

✦ 𝐀/𝐍: I NEED to talk about Bi-Han and his hypothetical relationship with his father and mother, and how this affected him and his choices according to personal thoughts. Although Bi-Han is not a character I like, I am fascinated by his psychological introspection. I’m sorry for the angst, I love to think that all three Lin Kuei brothers love each other, I swear— these are all theories.

Ph: far2wi1

[mortal kombat 1] [bi-han]  [sub-zero] [lin kuei brothers] [headcanons] [daddy’s issues]

➛ you can ask for headcanons ideas in the ask-box; this is a side blog, I can’t answer in the comments; you can commission me for customize x reader scenarios and letters from you comfort characters

It all starts from an exchange of phrases between Bi-Han and Tomas at the beginning of a fight:

« If Mother were alive—»

« She would applaud my actions »

My thoughts immediately focused on Bi-Han's response, was it his bravado talking or veiled feelings? This led me to reflect on what relationship he might have had with his mother, about whom we know nothing. Doing some research I was able to learn that apparently the two Lin Kuei brothers were brought to China by their father, who was a secret operative in the United States, to be trained as Lin Kuei assassins, against their mother's wishes.

Not knowing how old they might have been when this happened, I can speculate that this event worsened the relationship between Bi-Han and his father, he probably preferred to spend time with his mother and seeing himself forcibly removed from her must have affected him. There are children who prefer the company of one of the two parents from an early age, and seeing with how much anger Bi-Han speaks of his father during the story I imagine that from an early age the preference was for the mother, probably due to compliance with the exuberant character of the eldest son, perhaps always reprimanded by his father. As the eldest son and therefore hereditary of the Lin Kuei, his father must have forced him to follow teachings and ideals dictated by his experience, totally in contrast with Bi-Han's ideas. Serve the people with modesty opposed to the desire for power over the people themselves.

Kuai Liang he demonstrated growing up that he followed his father's ideals religiously, and this may have been another trigger: your figurehead preferring your younger brother to you, when you should be the firstborn, the best. I would add that I have the headcanon that Kuai Liang was his father's favorite, and this really bothered young Bi-Han, who grew up with hidden resentment. Bi-Han carried within him the dualism of not wanting to follow his father's ideals by thinking differently and the incessant need to still be seen as better than his brother Kuai Liang, who was evidently preferred. He must have found that acceptance that his father did not give him in his mother, who must have celebrated his revolutionary ideas for the future of Lin Kuei.

Then the father decides to take the brothers to China away from their mother, who was the only source of celebration for Bi-Han. Here something must have completely broken and the hatred for the father exploded.

Another trigger was the arrival of Tomas, yet another person who wanted to follow his father's values ​​without questioning, stealing the show from the eldest son who claimed to be the head of the family's favorite. And equally hatred was born towards Tomas, how could someone who didn't have the same blood as his father be preferred to him?

« You will never be one of us » —Bi-Han felt the need to continually tell Tomas, perhaps to convince himself that he was superior, better.

The mother seems deceased, and this loss must have pushed Bi-Han to act against everything and everyone in his family, the loss of his mother was like having lost the only sincere support and gratification towards him. For him, perhaps his father was even responsible for the little time he spent with his mother, because he had pushed him and his brothers away to train without her wanting it.

At that point, letting the father die in his time of need was nothing more than the only solution, I wouldn't be surprised to know that it was Bi-Han who killed him. His ego was now out of control, he was in charge of the Lin Kuei, of his brothers, now he was the one with the power. And Bi-Han would follow his ideals, those celebrated so much by his beloved mother. So much so that it even tramples on the fraternal relationship.

[be-it-so]

Okay, I lied, I'm not done with vengeance saga.

For some reason I'm still so angry and sad because of it, that I need to criticize it more or I won't be able to sleep.

I'm again so fucking disappointed, the whole saga felt like some kind of joke. I mean, the song I was worried the most about - "not sorry for loving you - turned out to be the most normal one. Like, yeah, Calypso is still very selfish and manipulative, Odysseus just want to be as far from her as possible and etc, I don't like that we are clearly expected to sympathise with her, but you know, in the context of this saga I'll go with it.

Dangerous felt a little overdone. I love Hermes, "wouldn't you like" was my favorite song for a long time, and maybe compared to it "Dangerous" is trying so much to go with the same vibe, but feels so deliberate about this.

I don't have much to say about "Charybdis" because there is nothing really to talk about, visuals were great, but everything felt so rushed, and also so meaningless, like they just needed to show at least one obstacle for Odysseus before Poseidon and nothing more.

And, yeah...

"Get in the water" and "600 strikes".

If you haven't guessed it yet, I'm very disappointed.

First of all, it is a lot weaker musically that I've expected. Okay, maybe there are good. Maybe I just am not able to hear this, because through these two songs I just stared at the screen with the confused and disappointed look, so I wasn't able to enjoy music or acting on its own.

Second, I was so interested in "get in the water", i liked the snippet we had so much before. It was so cool, emotional, and dark. I was so invested in finding out how Odysseus could escape this, what he might have said to change Poseidon's mind, maybe expected there to be some gesture towards the Odyssey, where Odysseus would tell Poseidon that he will go on this quest with the oar and so on. Also, i hoped to finally see "snake tongued" Odysseus in action because, like, that's what he is the most known about, for his mastery in words.

But this?

This was so bad. It also feels so fucking disrespectful to Poseidon, like, don't get me wrong, i like the change in power balance, I love when a character who wasn't able to do anything at some point now is beating the shit out of his former abuser and etc, BUT THIS IS NOT WORKING WITH THE GODS AND MORTALS IN GREEK MYTHOLOGY. AND THIS IS NOT WORKING WITH POSEIDON AND ODYSSEUS, THE STORY OF THE ODYSSEY IS NOT ABOUT HOW TO BECOME STRONG ENOUGH TO BEAT THE GOD. IT IS SO FAR OFF!

Like, yeah, the original is neither about "learning that you need to be ruthless to be able to return home if that's what you want so much", but there is difference in the level of what level of getting things wrong is normal and can be called "creative liberties" and what level is just bad. If you wanted so much for Odysseus to show how ruthless he became, well, we've already seen "different beast" to show us his cruelty, don't you think that maybe if they showed us how epic-Odysseus is able to put aside all the men Poseidon has killed and all of the pain he himself have gone through because of Poseidon and just talk with him, bargaining about his own life or something like this it would have also shown his ruthless side in a new way and be so much more believable? Even if he pulled out "there are other ways" move I think I would belive it more than that he is able to defeat Poseidon, the god of SEA, STORMS and EARTHQUAKES, PHISICALLY, in the SEA, with the STORM and fucking power of friendship (no, I will not stop calling it like this).

You know, I have a lot more to say about this, but I guess i'll stop with this. I guess I feel so bad about it because I really liked epic, yeah, I had problems with it, but I considered it nice adaptation even if it's kind of far from the source material, it felt very good and respectful to the original Odyssey, but now it became this. So yeah, I'm really disappointed.

And also, even if epic Odysseus was somehow able to defeat a god, what the fuck will stop epic Poseidon from returning after couple of months recovery and just wipe whole Ithaca off the face of the earth after such offense and shame? Like literally what? Or little epic Poseidon is now so afraid of big bad epic Odysseus that wouldn't bare even think about his name again?

[hazbinhappy]

Hey I think I've seen like three Adam posts on him being interested in a seraphim!reader but how about headcanons of a seraphim being interested in him? Like so much so that she tries to get his attention oftentimes and will even agree with stupid points he makes purely because of it?

A/N: Ooooo! I dont often read Adam, but that is such a cool concept!!

This actually had me thinking about how Adam is treated in heaven! Because in the first episode we’re told/shown it was the higher angels/Seraphim’s who made Earth, Adam, Eve, and Lilith! Makes me wonder if God is just the Divine Judgement and nothing more idk

I don’t think he’d be regarded as high as them because he is still a mortal soul, just the first one (speaking of: did he die before Abel??? I’m assuming so)

He definitely tries to act as a big shot though even though he’s just the same (I do think they let him have a lot more leeway with things since he is the first man)

Regarding Seraphim Reader, I think they’d be the one who specifically created Adam

It does sound like an abuse of power in a sense, but it’s not really since Sera didn’t let them be around Adam post his creation. They were said to learn Eve came from his rib, sounds painful :(

They did watch him though and was excited to see every discovery that he made because wow look!

When he died and made it to heaven they were with the other Angels to greet him and show him around

At this point in time there wasn’t much to be in charge of really…. Well except you were in charge of making sure humans didn’t die out so you weren’t able to watch Adam anymore

Once humans were on a roll though of self-populating and heaven gained more of a population as well, you had the chance to roam around

I don’t want to say you stalked him, but you definitely did and hung around places he was until he finally noticed you

You consistently did that and he loved having someone who just agreed with him and found him interesting

Of course you did because you made him and thought it was completely fascinating that this is how he turned out

Of course you’re not a doormat so you even gently nudge him to newer ideas as well and whenever humans on Earth discover something new you present to him and let him act like he found out about it

It hurts that he finds other souls more interesting on occasion but without fail he always goes back to you

The other higher angels find it a bit sad, but Emily thinks it’s sweet in a way. To her as long as you both love each other it’s fine!

And he does eventually love you! Just will never admit it

When you found out he died it broke you because when he died the first time you knew he was going to heaven, but when he died the second time you were unsure because you knew he wasn’t the best and that the Divine Judge did change it’s morals depending on the times

You just hoped you’d see him again or you’d risk becoming fallen like Lucifer if need be

[maimingaffairs]

hi hi hi i would like to request fluff for thee one and only Aleksander where reader gets really sick maybe a very high fever and maybe he panicked and called heartrenders and healers because he thought she might die and it ends all fluffy and soft Aleksander 😶‍🌫️

soft Aleksander yes pls <3 I love.

warnings: none, mostly angst and some fluff

word count: 2.3k

Just a Cough

(aleksander morozova x fem!reader)

-

It all started with a cough. A silly little harmless cough, of which you assured Aleksander after a few days of the persistent cough that there was nothing to worry about. Being sick was just a part of life for you, but apparently according to your loving husband, it wasn’t for him. In fact, upon asking him, the stoic faced general had stated that he’d never been sick in his entire life, and come to think of it, in your four year long marriage, you hadn’t seen him sick even once. He promptly thereafter reminded you that Grisha do not get sick as you did and you accepted this answer.

It was just a cough.

That’s what you kept insisting, even after it had been weeks. Though he’d never been sick, Aleksander was no stranger to illness, and stopped believing that it was only a cough. Just like clockwork, the second he began to suspect it was a bit more serious than you’d been insisting, you got worse.

Soon you were hardly able to keep food down, dizzy when you stood, the cough had gotten worse, and every night you’d run fevers. He brought you medicines given to him by the Royal Family, had doctors see you, and nothing was working. 

He hardly left your side, and when he did, someone was always there to keep an eye on you, and though you swore it wasn't necessary, his response was always the same:

“You are only mortal, my love. I will not take risks.”

So here you lay, on your marvelous four-poster bed while a young Grisha healer sat at your bedside, flipping idly through a book, glancing up at you every so often to make sure you were okay before she’d go back to her reading. A tap on the door pulled you out of your sick haze and your eyes fell upon Genya as she walked into the room.

“You may leave. I can keep watch on The General’s wife.” she spoke to the girl next to your bedside, and the girl wasted no time in getting up and scurrying out. 

You let out a miserable sigh and placed your hand over your eyes to shield the light, much preferring the company of your husband, “Oh, my. Is he almost done with whatever he’s doing? I need him to block the light.” you rasped and Genya only laughed and stood in the doorway.

“He cannot be too much longer, y/n.” she replied and you groaned.

“What did the Heartrender say?” you asked and opened your eyes to look up at Genya hopefully.

The red haired girl wandered over to your side and checked your temperature with the back of her hand, letting out a sigh of displeasure, “Well, she couldn’t deduce much except for that your heart is healthy, which is good. Your husband has ordered for one of our best healers to be removed from the frontlines and brought here to help. You're getting hotter, by the way.” she said with a frown.

“Genya, the last three healers haven’t made any progress.” you stated fearfully and she responded to you with nothing but silence and she grabbed the cool, damp cloth off of your nightstand that had been left there by the girl previous. She laid the cloth on your forehead and finally gave a sigh.

“We have very limited knowledge on what is ailing you. If a doctor couldn’t find a conclusion then it is very hard for us to know what to heal.” she explained in a gentle tone, “have you had any water today? Aleksander won’t be pleased if you haven’t.” she said quietly and you simply pulled the covers over your head and let out a terrible, wheezing cough.

Tears fearfully made their way into your eyes and you shook your head, though the Tailor could not see you, “I just want Aleksander.” you whimpered through a wheeze, your throat burning terribly with every word. You hadn’t even known Genya had left until you lifted the blanket and poked your head out to see why it had fallen so silent and you looked around the empty room and let out a painful sob.

You buried your face in your frail hands and let out hoarse cries until you felt the bed dip next to you, prompting you to wipe your eyes with the heels of your hands and you lifted your head to see your husband sitting at your side, his face completely colorless as he looked over you. You weakly sat up and pushed yourself into his lap with whatever strength you could muster, which must not have been much because you found yourself being easily lifted by Aleksander and pulled into his lap. You laid your head on his collarbone and you let out a shaky breath and you weakly grabbed onto the lapels of his kefta.

“Am I going to die?” you asked suddenly, the question that had been plaguing your mind for weeks now, the question that you were too afraid to speak out loud. The question both of you were asking silently. The question that made Aleksander kiss you on the forehead every time he left the room, that made him hold you a little bit tighter every chance he got, that had him terrified for perhaps only the second time in his life. The question that made him fear leaving your side, afraid to return to a lifeless form in his bed.

He didn’t answer right away, but the stiffness in his voice gave away everything he must have been thinking, “You are mortal.” was all he said before he tightened his arms around you, being careful not to hurt you in your fragile state.

His reply only caused you to cry again, and this time you could feel him crying with you. You didn’t see his face nor did you hear him; you didn’t have to. His shaking shoulders told you enough. He brought his cold hand up to your forehead and he held it there, occasionally swiping his thumb across one of your temples. To even meet the possibility of your death this soon was frightening and angering to Aleksander, and it had been the cause of several outbursts of anger in nights past in rooms far from your shared bedroom, to ears far from yours. He wasn’t supposed to be the one that was scared here, he was supposed to be the strong one that had the solutions. The answers. His highest obligation to you was to protect you at all times, defend you, his mortal, very breakable, wife. But there was no enemy to fight, no weapon to use to defend you. There was just you. Poor, sick, miserable little you, and this killed him. He lost sleep to this, he lost his appetite to this, and he was certain that if he was to lose you to this, he’d lose his mind, too.

“Aleksander, everything hurts.” you whispered, your voice hardly going higher than that. He grit his teeth angrily and simply pulled you closer, shushing you. He wasn’t good with comforting. His words weren’t often gentle unless directed at you, and it wouldn’t matter anyway. Words were completely lost on him as he sat in paralyzing fear that he could very well lose you to illness. 

He finally found the voice he’d been chasing around his throat and he reached up to soothingly pet your hair, “Oh, my darling, you must get some sleep. You aren’t going to die,” he promised, though he was beginning to fear he could not see to that promise being kept, “We have a healer coming for you, my little angel. I’d never let you succumb to whatever this illness may be.” he said hollowly, almost wincing when the little voice in his head told him not to make promises he couldn’t keep. Losing you meant losing a vital piece of himself.

“It’s punishment, Aleksander. There is nothing you can do.”  his mother had drawled when he had come to her practically on his knees, begging for a way to save his wife.

“Do you really think the fates would allow you to be happy after all you have done? You should have left her alone, now she is paying for your sins as well, there’s no one to blame except for you.” she had said coldly, leaving Aleksander with a guilt that had taken him days to even partially recover from. He’d deny it to the haggard old woman’s face but deep down he agreed. 

Lost in thought, he barely noticed that the stroking of your hair had lulled you into sleep, and your sudden stillness caused him to panic as he quickly laid his hand over your chest, only to feel relief wash upon him like a million crashing waves when he felt the shallow rise and fall of your chest. He finally willed himself to gaze down upon your sunken face and he traced his fingertips over your now very prominent cheekbones and jawline, and his lips turned downwards. You, his wife, the only light in his shadowy life, lay so lifelessly on his lap. He couldn’t help but think of the sick irony of it all, how he’d considered you his light when he himself could only summon the dark. The irony wasn’t lost on him at all there, bitterly so. A small tap on the doorframe made him slowly tear his eyes away from you and he raised one eyebrow at David who stood there awkwardly.

“I hope you have a very groundbreaking reason to be here interrupting the time I am spending with my wife.” Aleksander said in a clipped tone and David simply nodded once.

“The healer has arrived. He’d like to see her.” he answered, causing Aleksander to sigh once.

“David, three Healers and every Heartrender under my roof couldn’t even cure her. We need to start focusing on alternative methods to keep her alive. By any means possible.” he said lowly and the man at the door only nodded again, “but please,” Aleksander added, “bring the healer to me. Let us see what he can do for my y/n.” he conceded.

David motioned to someone who must have been just past the doorframe down the hall and a tall man walked into the room and looked down at the vulnerable, sickly form of The General’s wife laying in her husband’s lap, “Sir, this is the most experienced and talented healer we could find, he has the most experience in-”

“Can you help her?” Aleksander snapped, cutting David off. 

The healer didn’t answer but rather walked towards the two of them on the bed and he placed his hands on either side of your head, and the new contact had your eyes snapping open instantly with panic. Your husband gently tightened his grip around you and informed you softly that it was only a healer, and you relaxed a bit and closed your eyes again, a ragged breath being drawn from your lips. 

In reality the healer only had his hands upon your head for five minutes, but it felt like hours to your fear-stricken husband who watched the display before him desperately. Finally, the healer took his hands off of you and he reached up to feel your forehead before he looked up at your husband and nodded, “The fever has broken. Give her two or three days to fully recover, but she will not grow any sicker, and she certainly will not perish.”

Aleksander looked down at you with wide eyes and then back at the healer, “Why won’t she open her eyes?” he asked worriedly, his eyes threatening to water.

The healer chuckled and stood up straight, “She’s exhausted, General Kirigan. I put her to sleep. But make no mistake- she is healed.”

Aleksander’s lips moved but no sounds came out, so he settled for a stunned nod, and the healer gave him a slight smile before he headed out of the bedroom, followed by David. Your husband reached up promptly to feel your head, the past five minutes seeming entirely too good to be real, and he expected to feel your feverish skin. Instead, he was met with the completely normal temperature of your skin as you slept against him. He sucked in a shaky breath and leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your now cooled forehead and he stayed with you like that for a long time before he lifted his head. He swaddled your small form in a blanket and he sat with you just like that in his lap for hours, and he’d stay there for as long as he needed to.

When you finally woke some hours later, the first thing you noticed was that there was no searing pain behind your eyes any longer, and you looked up to see the face of your husband staring back down at you, his eyes misty and full of feelings you were sure he likely didn't have the words for.

"You look like hell." you commented with a short laugh and Aleksander rolled his eyes and pulled you up against his chest tightly, and you laid your ear over his heart, listening to it beat steadily.

"I was certain I was going to lose you." he said finally, his voice full of what you recognised to be pain.

"But you didn't."

"But I could have." he countered and buried his face in your hair, "And what then? What would I have done then?" he asked demandingly and you frowned, his disdain making your heart ache.

"Well, then I suppose you're just going to have to find a way to make sure that we never have to fear that again, won't you?" you asked, and he thought about it for a moment before he shrugged and tucked your head underneath his bearded chin.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose I will."

And in the silence of your shared bedroom he swore that no matter the cost, he’d find a cure for your mortality, a way to keep you alive for just as long as he.