#which i SPECIFICALLY remember because i remember her taking the doctor's body and it Doing Something to my ten-year-old mind

[dyketennant]

i haven't been able to stop thinking about this since i saw it

[ohtobeleah]

Day Eighteen [I Love You, Always]

Summary: When an unknown man comes into the cafe looking for who he calls “The Mutant” Logan’s world is once again turned upside down when you make the ultimate sacrifice.

Warnings: Logan Howlett x F!reader. Main character Death. Logan Whump. Mind Control. Possession.

Word Count: 5.1k

Whumptober Prompt Day Eighteen: Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

Author Note: Please make sure you read the warnings provided. Disclaimer: I do not condone nor endorse the actions that are written about during the month of October. These works of fiction are just that, fiction and should be treated as such. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for this year's prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist | ILYA Series

In the 1800’s, one of the most common reasons a woman visited the doctor was ‘Hysteria.’ A now-defunct diagnosis, hysteria was used to describe a wide array of symptoms: chest pain, anxiety, a swollen abdomen, and mood swings. They tried a variety of treatments for hysteria ranging from rest to psychosomatic therapy. 

But true relief for these women didn’t exist until physicians tried using what they called pelvic massage. The cure was called ‘Hysterical Paroxysm’ which today has come to be known as an orgasm. 

Modern medicine continues to recognise the stress-reducing benefits of the female orgasm. But doctors no longer perform the cure. 

When done properly and consensually, sex can be medicine. We know it reduces stress and strengthens the immune system. It even rejuvenates your brain activity. But sex without connection can leave you feeling empty. Friendship, laughter, simple human touch, are stress relievers too. 

Because truly, it’s about connection. When you’re physically close to another person the nervous system responds, the body is flooded with feel-good hormones, and everything else just fades away. 

“I specifically remember there being a no mutant policy behind the counter, Logan,” You cooed as Logan came barrelling right around the front counter of the cafe.

“You never put that in writing,” Logan growled as he immediately made a direct line to the little girl sitting on the floor babbling away to herself. “You can’t discriminate against senior citizens either.” He teased with a wink, knowing that the old man jokes hit you where it hurt. There was no secret there was a two-hundred-plus-year age gap between the two of you. 

“Ha ha,” You sighed as you went about your closing duties, having a look back at the days taking on the square machine. “For a senior citizen, you sure are looking good,” Logan raised an eyebrow as he momentarily turned his head over his shoulder to catch your gaze. Only to turn soon thereafter, his attention back to the little girl who had captivated his entire heart without ever so much as speaking a single word of grace. 

“Your mother is a serious flirt ya little Runt,” Logan teased as he picked your seven-month-old up off the floor. “She might have to clear her schedule later if she keeps it up, won’t she?” Logan cooed, knowing full well that the smile that crept itself across the little girl’s face had nothing to do with what he was saying, but rather from his presence. “Back in my day, they would have prescribed a pelvic message for your mother’s current condition,” Logan teased as he bounced Ilya on his hip playfully. “I'm no doctor, Runt, but I might have to perform one tonight.” Her slightly chunky self was ever so delighted to be in the safe embrace of the man she knew to be her guiding light in life. “How are my girls doing today?” 

That very question was one laced with love and admiration. Logan Howlett had lived a long, tortuous life. But in this new universe? He swore black and blue he’d found his forever home with two people he couldn’t live without. 

When you first met Logan Howlett, your first impression was that the brooding man in the booth off to the side, was going to be one of those customers who were more trouble than they were worth. He never wavered for the first few months. It was always the same interaction. Before you knew his name, you just knew him by his coffee order: One large black coffee, no sugar, no syrup, just bitter black coffee that could rival tar. 

“I see you’ve had the pleasure of meeting this ray of pure sunshine,” Wade was the connection, he’d come into the cafe one morning trailing behind the brooding man you’d come to know as a regular. The man with beautiful eyes full of torture and despair. The man with the aged appearance, the auburn locks, the dated clothes that smelt of burning embers and bourbon. A tortured poet if there ever was one. 

“Y/n, this is Logan–” It was nice to finally have a name to go with the face. “Sorry, he probably hasn’t introduced himself yet, he has a disorder,” 

“Would you shut the fuck up?” Logan growled under his breath as he fished his wallet out from the back pocket of his jeans. His eyes immediately softened when he met your gaze, drinking in the sight of you as you waited for the two of them to order. “I was going to, I just–I’m not,” You could tell that Logan was struggling to get the words out, you could see his mind racing around trying to find the right ones to say. 

“One black coffee, right?” You smiled softly, saving the enigma of a man from his latest version of hell. “What can I get for you, Wade?” 

“Surprise me. I’m feeling kinky so make it extra sweet,” Wade replied with a chipper smile. Wade’s antics never shocked you anymore. He’d become a regular over the years he found himself on Gore Street long before Logan had first stepped through your doors. Your humble little coffee shop sat nestled in the middle of the somewhat low-income neighbourhood. Coffee on Gore was seen as a wayward haven for the underprivileged in life. But no matter who walked through your front doors, they treated you with respect. You gave them a safe place to just breathe. A priceless commodity. 

“Coming right up,” You replied as you went about making Logans regular order and something sweet for Wade. It was only when you came out to their table that Logan spotted the name you had written on his takeaway cup. Before you’d never had a name to write on it, but now you did. 

Logan - The Brood 

The friendship only grew from there. Often you found yourself sitting across from the older man in silence. He’d speak infrequently, but always had the time to listen to you talk about your day, your achievements, your problems. Soon enough? Logan found himself in your little coffee shop every day. The coffee shop soon turned to your bedroom, your car, your kitchen, living room and bathroom. 

It wasn’t until your daughter turned six months old that he smelled the mutant blood that coursed through her veins. Little Ilya was a Howlett, but Logan never asked you about it. It didn’t matter when he’d been treating her like his own since he held your hand during her birth. He knew why you’d keep that card close to your chest. He’d been around the block a few times to understand that he wasn’t your average guy. 

“I’m the worst version of myself,” Logan could remember saying one night as you sat straddling his waist. “But I’m not a violent dog,” He swore in that moment he could see your silhouette draped in the belt of Orion. “I don’t know why I bite,” 

“How can you be the worst version of yourself? I only know this version,” You cooed as you carded your fingers through Logan’s hair, revelling in the deep hum that came from his chest at your touch. “You aren’t so bad,” You whispered softly. “Besides, I usually bet on losing dogs anyway.” 

“You better not tell me you love me right now, Darlin,” Logan replied, knowing that if you did, he’d say it back without hesitation. “I can’t have you being obsessed with me.” You could read between the lines with Logan, for you he was an open book on a public library shelf. He loved you, you loved him. Things were just……complicated, to say the very least. 

“Love you?” You teased as you leaned in to cup Logan’s scruff-covered cheeks. Cheeks that adorned a soft crimson. Caressing the pads of your thumbs over the harsh hairs. “Honey, I dunno if you’re that lucky,” 

“We’re good,” You smiled as a heat spread across your cheeks at the very thought of being one of Logan’s girls. “She’s been a little fussing today, but now you’re here I’m sure she’ll settle.” 

“Oh, is that so? We’ve been a fussy little monster huh?” Logan sat the little tot he knew deep down was his daughter on his hip as he came to stand behind you. He worked to sneak a gentle hand around your waist, drawing you back into him. Encapsulating you entirely. The aroma of your perfume captivated him wholeheartedly. A scent he’d never forget even if he tried. “It’s a good thing I’m here then, huh Darlin?” 

“You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but chuckle and shake your head in soft defeat as Logan kissed your cheek tenderly. Only for you to crave more of his affection and chase after his lips over your shoulder. For a moment, time stood still as your tongue danced with Logan’s, your daughter gently clawed at Logan’s cheek as she tried to gain his undivided attention back on her. With his eyes and your nose, the perfect combination of the two of you, how could she be anything else?

“Ilya,” Logan cooed as the little girl he held tenderly slapped at his cheek, enough to coax a chuckle from deep within his old soul. “Okay, okay, sorry Darlin, this little one is in serious need of daddy-daughter time.” The second Logan pulled away, time began to move again. His touch brought you comfort, love, and desire. So much so that every night as you put your little girl to bed, you thought about what a life with Logan would be like. A life without the bureaucratic tape the two of you saw yourselves tangled in. A life without confusing titles, or uncertainty surrounding what you truly meant to one another. 

For now, though, friends with incredible benefits boarding on boyfriend and girlfriend status would just have to do. 

“Daughter and strange old man who keeps coming into her mum’s cafe, time.” You corrected Logan playfully, knowing full well he was her father. There was no one else who had your heart like Logan Howlett did. 

“Not the only place I keep cumming,” Logan was quick on the draw to fire right back as he raised his eyebrows and faked a shocked expression. “Who said that?” He grinned ear to ear as Ilya chuckled and held onto Logan’s flannel sleeve. 

“You’ve been hanging around Wade way too much for your own good,” If you had rolled your eyes any harder, you probably would have fallen over as you shook your head and returned to recording today’s takings. 

“He’s kinda the only friend I’ve got beside you. I don’t really have any choice in the matter,” It was the way Logan referred to Wade as a friend that made your heart swell inside your chest. To even say that word, to refer to someone as a friend, that was a lot. The man you loved unconditionally and unapologetically had come a long way in the time you’d been blessed to know him. 

“Who ever said I was your friend?” You sent Logan a shocked expression as he placed a hand over his heart. “Oh, who said that?” You followed up with a chuckle, looking around the empty cafe, twenty minutes until close. 

Logan let you win that one, he knew you had things to do for the next half an hour. He threw your daughter up into the air playfully and took a few strides back towards you. 

“I’ll leave you to work shall I?” The small little nod you gave him in response with the tight-lipped grin of agreeance was all Logan needed. “I’ve got the Runt,” He reminded you innocently as he pecked at your cheek before rounding the corner of the front counter, Ilya in his arms. “I’ll take you for a walk,”

Your little family may have been unconventional, but they were all you needed in life. The ring in Logan’s jeans weighed him down, so much so that if he were to go swimming, he’d sink to the very bottom. He was ready to take the leap. He wanted you forever. He wanted you and only you for the rest of his days here on earth. Labels didn’t matter to Logan, but he wanted the world, and the next, to know that you were his and he was yours. 

In hindsight, being dragged to this universe was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He had a daughter now, a tiny human that relied on him. He had a beautiful woman who loved him, although unconventional, Logan knew wholeheartedly that the love that ran through his veins was reciprocated in every breath you took. 

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

“Oh, I’m so sorry, but we’re closed,” There is a portion of the cerebral cortex of our brains, folded deep within an area between the temporal and frontal lobes. It’s called the insula, and it’s where desire starts. “We open at five-thirty in the morning though, if you want to come back another time?” You politely told the man who had come through the front door only a few seconds before you could make sure to lock it. He didn’t look a day past forty-five, but the smell of rotting flesh made you gag. When was the last time this guy had a shower or used any sort of soap?

“I’m not here for coffee, sweetheart,” We’d like to imagine that we’re in control, but more often than not, the chemicals in our brains control us. “I’m here for The Mutant,” 

The very mention of the word mutant had you on edge immediately. Not many people when around referring to people they knew like that here. It had the tiny little hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention. 

“The who?” The insula lights up, and we’re compelled to change our lives. Compelled by longing. Compelled by yearning. Compelled by a desire for more. “I don’t know anyone by the name of that.” It was the first thing that came to your mind, to deny deny deny. 

“You sure?” His wickedly evil smile told you all you needed to know. “We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, my dear,” The man grinned as he walked further into your cafe. “I know she’s been here recently, her scent is still lingering.” 

With the use of the pronoun ‘her’, your blood ran cold. No. She couldn’t be. Why had that thought never crossed your mind before? Your baby girl, half human, half mutant. You should have expected her to be just like her father. She was only a baby, just a little girl. She hadn’t shown any signs of being anything less than ordinary. But a switch inside you had flipped as your brain processed the new narrative you had just been exposed to. As you stood behind the counter, your eyes darkened with the very desire to protect your little girl at all costs. 

“If you were here for her father, there’s a small part of me that would have allowed you to try him,” You warned. “But you’ll have to go through not only me, but him, to get to her.” 

“So I guess we’re doing this the hard way then?” The man sighed as he looked up to the roof above. For a moment he stood still and closed his eyes, the silence that surrounded the two of you in your empty cafe was deafening. “I’d like a cup of coffee.” 

Before you knew what you were doing, you were going about making the man who had threatened to take your daughter a coffee. It felt like someone was inside your mind, dancing with your own desire. 

“You’re a telepath–” You asked as you went about making the man his coffee, an order you somehow already knew but had never made before. 

“You’re a perspective one, aren’t you, dear?” The man chuckled as he slid into the bar stool at the front counter. “Your daughter processes a unique genetic code, one that could see the beginning of a new generation of mutant children,” He explained as if it wasn’t a big deal. A life-changing exchange. “I need her for my collection of children, some would liken me to the Charles Xavier of the new generation,” 

“Over my dead body,” You hissed as you poured the fresh batch of coffee directly from the pot into the clean mug sitting in front of the man. 

“More–” He growled as he watched the coffee lap at the sides of the mug. No matter what, you couldn’t stop pouring no matter how hard you told yourself to stop. “More, dear,” He added, watching as you struggled to fight against your own actions. “Burn yourself, go on.” He snarled as you moved your hand under the steaming stream of fresh hot coffee. 

“Ahhhh!!” You screamed out in pain as the boiling liquid scolded the palm of your hand. But you couldn’t stop yourself, no matter how hard you tried. 

“Stop,” The man demanded. Immediately you stopped the coffee pot and raced over to the sink to cool your hand. Blisters appeared almost immediately. “You see, you can stand here all day and waste my time talking about how you’d never let me take what I came here to collect, but my dear I’m telling you right now, I’ll always get what I want.”

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

“Alright ya little Runt,’ Logan chuckled to himself as he held a bouquet in one hand and his daughter in the other. She could sit happily on her father’s hip all day. “You reckon your mother will like these?” 

There wasn’t much of a response from the little girl who was just happy to be out and about with her biggest protector. But as Logan rounded the corner towards the cafe, he could smell fear radiating down the block. 

Your fear…..

His stride got a little wider, his pace got a little quicker, and his heart rate jumped into the stratosphere with panic. Logan was on a mission to get back to you as quickly as he could. What could be happening back at the cafe to have you smelling with such fear, such panic, such fright? 

“I think we need to drop you off at Uncle Wade and Grandma Al’s house,” Logan spoke out loud to himself as he raced up the small set of stairs that led up to the townhouse Wade resided in. The best thing about the cafe was that it was within walking distance from where Logan usually laid his head down to rest. “Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe so I can go help Mum.” 

It wasn’t long before Logan was bursting through Wade’s front door, the small rundown apartment was enough for the three of them, but it wasn’t a place for a child. It would have to do for now until Logan knew what was wrong. He couldn’t risk taking Ilya back to the cafe, not with how much fear he could smell from down the block. 

“Wade!?” Logan growled as he looked around, dropping the bouquet on the ground as he did so. “Wade, you blistered fuck, where are you!?” 

“I’m banging your mother,” Wade called out as he rounded the corner, freshly showered with a towel hung long on his waist. “Hi honey, nice to see you too,” His demeanour immediately changed when he saw the worry on Logan’s face, the panic in his eyes. The fear in his old soul. “What’s going on? Why is the little crotch goblin in my house?” 

“Somethings wrong at the cafe,” Logan explained as he handed over his little girl. “Stay here, no matter what,” He ordered. “Do you understand me, you walking nut-sack? Don’t leave this house, don’t let go of her for anything.” 

“I’m all over it like a bad rash,” Wade said as he nodded in response and held his friend’s daughter in his arms. “Go, I got her.” 

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

The human body is full of energy. Sprinting at full speed, it produces enough wattage to power anything in your house. So just imagine the wattage, the magnitude of power that surged through Logan’s body as he raced down the street towards your humble cafe. The scent of fear was prevalent in the air around him. 

Your fear. 

“I’m coming, Darlin, I’m coming.” The human cells are built to move charged ions through the cellular membrane. And the nervous system is a highway of electrical signals, zapping through your muscles and brain. 

“Y/n!?” Logan shouted as he barged through the cafe door, eyes as dark as what he once thought his soul to be. Scanning around the somewhat trashed cafe, hoping, praying, to see you breathing. “Y/n! Darlin!? Where are you?” The silence was all Logan was met with as he took notice of the mess. You’d put up some sort of a fight at least. 

Chairs were knocked down haphazardly. Cutlery lay strewn around the cafe from the tops of tables that had been moved around. It wasn’t how you’d ever have the cafe looking on its worst day, even after that one time Wade brought a street brawl inside. 

“Logan,” Your voice was barely audible, but to Logan? He heard you loud and clear. 

Across the cafe, you laid in a pile of broken glass. Beaten. Bloodied. Bruised. Logan could feel his heart racing as the pain of seeing you in such a way took over his primal desire to kill whoever hurt you. 

“I’m here,” It was the first two words that Logan spoke as he crouched down to hold you in his arms. “I’m here, Darlin. Who–who did this to you? Who?” It was a charged question, who had done this to you? Your mind was fuzzy, like a grey cloud of fog had plagued your memory, your mind. 

“I–I don’t remember,” You coughed. Logan saw the blood that came up as he held you tight in his lap. Embraced in his arms where no one could ever hurt you. “You,” You struggled to speak as you fought off unconscious. Logan knew you were in a bad state, he could see it in the way your eyelids fluttered, “You need to–to leave.” 

“Why would you say that?” The human body runs on positive and negative charges, all obeying a basic law of physics… opposites attract. “I’m not going anywhere, you hear me?”

“Ah, The Wolverine,” There’s a lighting in everyone. Opposite charges find each other. They connect. They spark. And as long as they do, your life goes on. Your cells keep multiplying. Your brain keeps thinking. “What an honour.” Logan’s eyes left you only for a moment as he looked around the ruined cafe to see where the man’s voice had come from. 

“Who the fuck are you?” When Logan finally caught the man in his line of sight, he knew he had to let you go to protect you. 

“Me? I’m just a simple man who’s come to collect the next generation of your kind,” The man who’d turned your entire world upside down, explained to the love of your life as you struggled to stay conscious. “Y/n here, well, she’d a means to an inevitable end, unfortunately,” 

“Listen to me you piece of shit,” Logan growled as he stood in front of where he’d laid your badly injured self down. “No one hurts the people I love and gets away with it, do I make myself fucking clear, Dumpster-diver?” 

“Lo, don’t–” Your body wants to move, so it moves because it can. Life is electricity. Positive and negative. Creation and destruction. Destruction, sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. “He, he wants Ilya.” You remembered as the cool tiles caressed your burning skin. 

“Smart woman you’ve got yourself, Wolverine,” The man with the rotting flesh and the undesirable stench of a thousand rotting corpses smiled ear to ear. He took a few steps towards where Logan stood protecting you. “But the smarter you are, the more you know,” He sighed. “Happiness is an unfortunate trap, my dear friend,” He chuckled to himself. “It can’t last forever. 

“Listen, bub, I’m not your friend,” Logan growled as the claws came out from between his knuckles. He was ready to fight for his family. The only family Logan had ever truly had. “You leave my family alone before you pay for your mistakes with your fucking life.” 

“Logan, Logan, Logan,” The man repeated to himself as he entered the mind of the adamantium man, rendering him completely under his possession. “Let’s say you’ve met the love of your life here,” Logan struggled to remain in control of his mind and body, but as he struggled, the more he realised he’d lost any ability to control himself or his thoughts. 

“Well, it’s gonna end, isn’t it? It’s inevitable… whether by the slow pull of a disease or the shock of loose footing on a hiking trail. Whether it be the corrosion of two personalities that reshape each other until they’re incompatible.” 

“What are you doing to me?” Logan growled as he turned back to face you lying in a pool of your own blood. “No, let me go!” Logan shouted as he dropped to his knees before you, truly breaking at the seams of his clothes trying to take back his own body. Fighting an invisible, powerful force controlling every fibre of his being. 

“The point is son, happiness always ends. The best-case scenario is that you die at the same time, but that would just be too easy, Logan.” Logan trembled as his mind was clouded with grey clouds until they were all he could see swirling in his line of sight. 

“Kill her,” He heard a voice whisper inside his mind, through the clouded fog. “Kill the very woman you love,” The man commanded as he smelled the familiar scent of a child mutant growing stronger with every passing second. “Everybody will end up despising you.”

Wade had begun to grow more and more concerned for his friends as he paced around the living room holding little Ilya in his arms. With hesitation and a whole lot of worry, Wade had left the safety of his humble apartment and headed on foot down towards the cafe. 

“Kill her,” The command was too strong for Logan to struggle against. He felt his claws dive deep into the torso of a body lying before him. Cluded with the grey fog, his mind told him he was in danger. “She's going to kill you. Kill her before she has the chance to kill you, Logan.” 

“AHHHH!!!” Your blood-curdling screams of unimaginable pain cleared the fog in Logan's mind as he felt himself regaining control. By the time he’d woken from where he’d been locked inside his own mind, his adamantium claws had slashed through your stomach, still buried deep inside your guts as he came back from the very darkness of his own mind. “Lo–” 

“Oh god,” Was all Logan managed to say as he retracted his claws and tried to stop your bleeding. “No, no no no no no,” The panic was all-consuming. The fear was unstoppable. “Y/n, Darlin, no fuck! I didn’t mean to,” Logan scooped you up into his arms as he tried to stop the blood from gushing from your wounds. Wounds he’d been forced to inflict on you, the love of his life. “NOO!” 

“Ke-keep,” You gagged on your own blood as you looked up at Logan, the man you loved for all his perfect faults. “Ilya,” It was hard to remain conscious, everything self so cold. “Safe,” 

“Don’t you leave me,” Logan cried as he shook and held you tight. Your blood was seeping into his jeans, his flannel, into his skin. “DON’T Y/N!” 

The ring of the font doorbell took Logan’s attention away from you for five seconds, but he never let you go. He watched as the man who’d done this to you walked out, following a scent he was bloodthirsty for.

“She’s yours, Lo,” You whispered as Logan returned all his undivided attention to you. “Ilya–” 

“I know,” Logan cried. He watched as his tears fell onto your blood-stained cheeks. “I’ve always known. I love you so much, Y/n, you can’t do this, you can’t leave me.” 

“Ilya, Logan, my love,” You tried to explain as you reached up to caress the bearded cheek of the love of your life. “I love you, always,” You had never told Logan what your daughter’s name stood for, but as those words left your mouth, Logan understood. “Protect her, promise me?” 

“I can’t lose you,” Logan cried as he leaned down to kiss your lips, they were cold to the touch. “Stay, stay with me, I love you, so much,” Logan knew you were fading, he could see it in your eyes. But denial had him in a chokehold that revenge couldn’t even pull him out of. “You’re the love of my life,” 

“I know,” Was all you said back as a peaceful calm washed over you. “Protect our daughter, Logan,” You whispered as blood pooled in your mouth. “I love you, always, but she n-needs you.” 

When you’re physically close to another person the nervous system responds, the body is flooded with feel-good hormones, and everything else just fades away. 

“But I need you!” Logan cried out as he watched your life fade from you. “Don’t go!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Y/n?” Logan shook you in his arms, waiting for you to wake up, begging the heavens above to give you back. “No! No! No no no Darlin come back, WAKE UP!” 

At the realisation that your soul had left your body, Logan broke. He cried and shouted and held your bloodied body until his instincts kicked in. He wasn’t sure how long he held you for, or how long he allowed himself to hate what he had been forced to do. But to you, Logan was the only version of him that you had ever known. 

To you? He wasn’t the worst Logan, he was simply Logan. 

“I love you,” He cooed as he kissed your lips and closed your eyelids. “I have to go save our baby girl,” Logan wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself to leave you or if he was letting you know that he’d be back. But either way, he left the ring he carried around in the back pocket of his jeans on your left ring finger.“I love you, always.”

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

[citruswriter]

Hello, sorry in advance - my English is VERY bad😭💔

have problems with blood pressure, which often makes me dizzy, and yesterday in the bathroom because of the pressure I lost consciousness and fell - my mother was very scared, and we waited another half hour for an ambulance🤣

(everything is fine, I got tangled in the bath curtain and it saved me my head from a concussion, but I sprained my neck, hit my nose and got bruises all over my body)

I would like to know how the bayverse tmnt(individually) reacted to the fact that there was a crash from the bathtub, the door was locked, and when they managed to open the door, their beloved was lying on the floor, her feet on the edge of the bathtub, and the girl herself was lying unconscious, confused in the bathroom curtain on the tile floor? 🤣

Will they scold the girl for her habit of locking doors, or will they wash her themselves after this event, idk

(please guys take care of yourselves especially if you have the same health issues as me 🙏)

Bayverse Turtles x Fainting Disorder Reader

Listen with me! ↠ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ↺ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗ ⊜ ᵖᵃᵘˢᵉ

A/N: Behold! The singular ask that survived the Tumblr askbox purge. It's ok dear! It took me a bit to decipher the ask but I think I've got the jist of it!

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Heart attack the first time you fainted. Warn a guy if you have a fainting disorder will ya?

Internally screamed while carrying you to Donnie to see if you need the hospital. Deep breath of relief to find out, no you don't.

Please tell him what you have and how to help. He's just one big ole softy and he loves you and wants to make sure you're safe and comfortable.

Scolds you every time you lock doors. He understands your wish for independence and privacy but either you leave the door unlocked or he breaks down the door. Your choice.

Can be a bit overbearing at times so don't be surprised if you need to have a talk with him at some point. Let him know you appreciate his effort but it's just a tad suffocating.

Probably knows your medical history like the back of his hand. Wants to know everything to be helpful so you've probably told him something about something at some point and now he has it all memorized.

Call him while at the doctor's office if you forget. He'll think it's amusing that you forgot your own medical history but will still happily tell you what you forgot. He enjoys feeling useful.

Constant stash of water and snacks in his room and kitchen specifically for you. If anybody else touches it, they are required "by law" to replace it or else they get ha'shi treatment.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Raphael x Reader 🧡

Literal panic attack the first time you faint around him. Screaming for Donnie and asking if you're gonna die.

Don't be surprised if he yells at you for not telling him. He's not trying to be mean, you just scared him is all. Just let him get it out and eventually he'll calm down and apologize for yelling before holding you in his arms.

This man ain't gonna remember shit about what ever the fuck you have. He'll remember the name and that it's a fainting disorder and that's probably it.

This man already has a water bottle stash but he happily lets you access it whenever you need to. Hydration is good!

Not afraid to break your door if you lock it. What if you faint face first into some liquid and then drown and die? Hm?! He loves you too much. You're not allowed to die. Leave the damn door unlocked.

Another turtle you might have to sit down with and have a "I appreciate your effort but you're suffocating me" talk with.

Probably has a note on his notes app labeled "Tiny's Medical Shit" with some basic information on your disorder and how to help with dizzy and fainting spells.

His room looks like it's absolutely baby proofed with the caps he puts on sharp corners and with all the pillows and blankets on his floor but really he's just doing his best to keep you safe and injury free.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Donatello x Reader 🧡

Worried the first time you faint around him but not all panicky like Leo or Raph. He might softly scold you for not telling him about your fainting disorder though.

Faint proofs his lab. He wants his baby in his lab with him but that wasn't exactly possible for awhile so he had to faint proof his while fucking lab. Please praise him for it, he desperately needs the validation.

As soon as he knows you have a fainting disorder, he looks up what it is and suddenly knows more about it than even you do. POTS, narcolepsy, it doesn't matter. He knows more than you now.

Will love you for eternity if you call him while at a doctor's because you forgot something about your own medical history or just don't know the answer.

"Hey Donnie?" "Yes dove?" "How many times would you say I've fainted in the past month?" "Twenty-seven. I have it all documented. Why? You at the doctor?" "Yeah. Figured if anybody knew the answer to that question, it would be you." "Well you were correct. I love you, dove." "I love you too, my love. See you tonight."

He doesn't care if you lock doors. This man knows how to pick a lock in twenty different ways. He also knows that, if push comes to shove, he can easily just break the damn door down.

Lots of water and snackies for you in his lab. Nobody tries to steal from your stash. Mikey tried once and had to deal with scary Don for few solid minutes. They know better now, lest they incur the wrath of Scary Dontron.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Surprisingly chill the first time you faint around him??? Like why the fuck is he so calm???

He does his best to study up on your disorder but, much like Raph, he knows what it's called and that's about it.

Has a "fainting spot" for you in his room that's essentially just a nook in his room with extra fluffy blankets and pillows with a basket of water and snacks within reach. Whenever you faint, he places you there and stays close by until you're awake and conscious.

Doesn't worry too much about locked doors. He'd prefer if you don't but he understands that he can easily bust the door down if needed.

If you're clingy after a fainting spell, this man is gonna eat it up. Need him to hold you? Course baby, come here. Need some kisses? Who is he to deny you? Need some head rubs while you bury yourself into his arms? Why it would be criminal to deny you!

He isn't the best at keeping up with all the fun facts about your disorder but he's surprisingly fantastic about tracking your fainting spells. Like, it's Donnie level tracking. He may not know the ins and outs of your disorder like Don would but he can indeed tell you that you've fainted three times this week.

Will chirp if you call him at the doctors. He can't promise he'll know the answer to your question but the fact that you thought of him and called him still warms his heart. Prepare for him to cuddle and scent you when you get home if you do this.

I'm so sorry for not writing guys. I've been in Ao3's embrace for the past few days. 🤭😂

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I remember in the game, like during Riddle's flashback, Mama Roseheart says that a food was full of something that would make him smarter. But that kinda sounds like something from a factoid. Do we know if she's actually a qualified doctor?

Mrs. Rosehearts is a licensed medical mage. We have no reason to believe she isn’t, especially not when Riddle cites her occupation as a reason for her being well-respected in their community. Why would Riddle and their entire hometown perpetuate a lie and revere a woman if she’s not in such a powerful position?

I don’t think the scene you brought up is as much of a “gotcha” as it may seem to be. It might give the impression that Mrs. Rosehearts is one of those pseudoscience peddlers, but only if you take her dialogue at face-value and consider no other context.

Firstly, it’s important to note that Mrs. Rosehearts claiming the birthday cake has lecithin-rich ingredients, which will “make [you] smarter” occurs in the Japanese text.

The localization is more specific and has Mrs. Rosehearts instead claiming that the lecithin will “improve cerebral function”. Between JP and EN, EN actually provides the more nuanced wording this time.

The reason she says this is because lecithin DOES play an important role in cognitive function. It is necessary to make choline, an essential nutrient to then make acetylcholine. Acetylcholine, as it happens, is a neurotransmitter that conveys messages between the neurons and all cells in the body. In the simplest terms, lecithin is vital in brain function and memory development. If Riddle doesn’t get enough lecithin, it could legitimately impede with his studies, since the brain wouldn’t have what it needs to support optimal learning.

It isn’t pseudoscience, it’s real science and you will find numerous studies that back this up. The only reason it comes off as “fake” is because Mrs. Rosehearts grossly oversimplifies the explanation in her dialogue. This most likely happened because 1) adults tend to talk to children this way, especially to make less desirable food sound more appealing (which is the case for Riddle’s mom) and 2) the Twst writers know that most of their general audience don’t want to sit through a long lecture about how lecithin is converted to other substances to support the brain.

Mrs Rosehearts doesn’t actually mean that she believes Riddle will magically become smarter if he eats food with lots of lecithin in it. She most likely means she wants him to eat ultra healthy in general because the alternative, junk food, won’t give him the nutrients he needs for the high amount of studying he does.

[roll-of-royces]

Drabble: Workplace Violence (Zayne x AFAB!Reader)

Content: You get hurt. Zayne picks up the pieces, and maybe, possibly, loses his temper.

Rating: T for slight violence and injuries

Spoilers: Slight Chapter 4 mention

Word Count: 1170

It has become a bit of a habit of Zayne's and so the other staff have begun to notice it. Whenever a Hunter comes into the hospital, (specifically a female hunter) he always asks, "What is her name?" 

This is the only time he ever asks a patient's name unless it is prevalent to what he needs to do next. After all there are clipboards with that information, it's not important if he's deep in surgery, covered in blood trying to keep someone alive. 

But he asks, and he waits with bated breath for any name that is not your name. 

So when Greyson pops his head into his office, "Hunter in surgery. You're needed." 

Zayne stands, runs his hands along his coat and asks as he always does, "Their name?" 

And then Greyson does something he never does, he looks down at the floor and hesitates. Because his staff are starting to pick up on why he asks. They're starting to notice one woman that is always around. The woman that eats lunch in the cafeteria, and shows up unannounced and lets herself into Zayne's office. 

The woman that Zayne leaves his office door open for in the first place. 

Greyson says your name. 

Zayne is torn between two sides of himself, the side that is calm, a doctor, he asks, "What are her injuries?" His voice doesn't waver, his expression shows nothing. He is the cold creature half the hospital thinks he is. 

The other side of him riots, he feels ice curl up his back from his Evol before he gets it under control. He wants to ask what happened, who hurt you, who could have stopped it. This side of him stays silent as he follows the other man into the hallway toward Operating Room D, the one specifically kept for Wanderer related injuries. 

Greyson rattles off everything that needs to be mended and fixed. He came prepared. He knew Zayne would ask, of course he would ask. You'll need surgery, but the chances you'll live are greater than ninety-three percent. That high rate comes from Zayne himself, he's not arrogant, he's just better than most. 

When he slips into the operating room you're already there, sedated, prepped for operation. Against his wishes he freezes for less than a second, staring. There's bloody gauze in the waste bin below the table, you have wounds that seep red ichor down onto the metal table. 

Your hair, which you're always running your fingers through to keep smooth is in disarray. Your skin is pale, lacking the playful pink it normally is. 

But now is not the time to mourn what has happened to you. Zayne bottles it all up, shoves is deep inside himself where mountains and men in black coats live and gets to work. 

It takes five hours of extensive operating to stabilize you completely. He doesn't let anyone do anything but the most necessary work, he trusts his hands. He's not arrogant, he's just better. That's what he keeps telling himself on repeat. 

It has nothing to do with a desperate attempt to make sure that tomorrow you look at him with those wide beautiful eyes. It has nothing to do with the ice in his heart, and the terror of the idea of living without you. 

All Zayne knows is something breaks in him, something integral and controlled that lives in his chest at the sight of all the blood coating his gloves, his operating suit, the table, your body. 

Once he has you in a recovery room, door closed, asleep for now, he turns to Greyson. "What happened?" 

"From what I heard she ended up taking on too many Wanderers alone, her partner brought her in." 

Zayne swallows, "Is Xavier here?" 

Sure, he knows all about your partner. You're his girlfriend, you chat about the other man occasionally. He's talented but under-utilizes his abilities. He's lazy, too casual, and is inept at plenty of basic tasks like cooking, remembering how to get into his own apartment, and directions. 

Zayne didn't care much for Xavier before today, but now... 

"He's in the waiting room." 

All of his patience, all of his understanding, all of his careful step by step planning has been used up on making sure that you live to see dawn tomorrow. His feet hit the tiles of the hall hard as he heads for the waiting room. 

Pushing through the door he looks around. First, he looks for Caleb out of pure reflex, because if you are injured he will be here. The distinct lack of your brother is a stark reminder of the pain you have already suffered. 

Next he categorizes the others waiting for you. Tara is nibbling on the edge of his finger, anxious with a few of your other coworkers. Rafayel, is sitting off alone looking down at his hands, quiet. Respectable enough. 

And then of course there is Xavier. He sits in his bloody uniform, head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. As if this doesn't matter, as if you did not almost die. He's taking a nap. 

Zayne is not on most days what he himself would consider an impulsive or violent man. Today is an exception for many things.��

He advances and Xavier has just long enough to start opening his eyes before he's yanking him out of his chair by his collar. The Hunter straightens, but doesn't pull away.

His acceptance is his guilt. 

"What were you?" Zayne's voice echoes. Staff and visitors alike stare, because this is not like him at all. He doesn't raise his voice at anyone let alone grab someone like he's done to Xavier. 

When Xavier doesn't immediately give an excuse Zayne keeps going, he puts all of his fear, all of his frustration into it. "Where the hell were you when she was getting torn into? Forty-three stitches! The stress can make her heart condition worsen. She'll need weeks, possibly months, to recover. Where were you?" 

"I was late getting to work." Xavier replies, there's no more fatigue in his eyes. "I made a mistake. I won't let it happen again." 

Zayne's hand tightens on his shirt, "Why were you late?" 

Jenna stands, "Doctor Zayne, I understand - " 

"Why?" He snarls at Xavier ignoring her entirely. 

Guilt again. Good he should feel guilty. 

"I overslept." 

Something ugly overcomes Zayne, something covetous and cloaked in darkness. Something old and new, something foreseeing and breaking. He lets go. 

And punches Xavier as hard as he can. 

His knuckles crack against the man's jaw. Xavier stumbles under the hit, hand reflexively coming to his face. He makes no move to attack back. There will be no war in the hospital waiting room. 

Before anyone can say anything else he drops his bruising hand to his side and addresses the crowd, "She'll make a full recovery, but won't be taking any visitors today. Please excuse me, I need to check on my patient." 

[sillylittlestoryblog]

(Not) Hard to Love

( Part 1 of 2 )

Trafalgar Law x Reader

Warning: ⚠️ reader has self love issues, angst, some suggestive thoughts, not a native English speaker here :)

Authors notes: I have read your comments about writing a part 3 to Keeping me warm, i hadn’t really planed it as a series, so if you have a suggestion how the story should end, I would love to hear your thoughts.

I know this story isn’t that much different. But I am just living for that angsty pining shit. 😗✌🏻this will have a part two and it will follow soon. Anyways have fun. Feel free to comment your thoughts. And remember nice words are good for everybody’s mental health. ;)

"You're staring again"

Robin's words snapped you out of your thoughts. The dark-haired girl was sitting next to you on a sun lounger. There was an open book on her lap. She giggled.

" what?! No. I'm not!"

"Are you sure? You seem to be quite fascinated by him"

She held her sunglasses up for a moment so that you could see her eyes. She winked before putting the sunglasses back on her nose. She grinned and looked happily towards the sun.

It was a hot midday on the Thousand Sunny. Chopper and Luffy were playing a mixture of catch and hide-and-seek, with Luffy usually winning.

Zoro was snoring on deck, his swords always beside his sleeping body.

Usopp and Franky repaired small things on the Sunny and Sanji prepared a few refreshing drinks. While Brook was singing to himself somewhere.

Nami, Robin and you were sunbathing on the main deck. At least that was Nami's plan. Robin had gone along to do some reading. And you had mainly agreed to it for a very specific reason.

Normally your friends would have been reason enough, but the drastic heat was anything but pleasant.

If it hadn't been for this one reason, you would have gone somewhere in the shade long ago, preferably to Sanji in the kitchen or to the girls' room. Somewhere where you could best escape the sun.

But your reason for staying out on deck hadn't really moved for two hours. He was sitting at a small table with a parasol, a few sheets of paper and books spread out in front of him. Immersed in his work.

He was sitting far enough away not to be disturbed by Chopper and Luffy's games.

Trafalgar Law had been on board the Sunny for a few weeks now. Being part of the Strawhat crew again, even if only for a short time, was really getting to him. Groaning, he stretched his body, which was already a little sore from the uncomfortable posture. He really should take breaks from studying more often.

He walked briskly towards the kitchen. As a good doctor, he knew how important it was to drink water regularly, especially in these temperatures.

" and do you like what you see?"

" huh?!"

Once again, your mind wandered. For a brief moment, you wish you could take photos with your eyes. Just save certain moments in your mind forever. And return again and again to study them in detail.

That's all it was. You wanted to know what his deal was. Although you had already had several conversations with him, and in your opinion always with friendly intentions, he had managed to make you feel terrible every time.

Almost every conversation had degenerated too quickly. You could hardly believe how stubborn someone could be. And your captain was Luffy.

So you definitely knew your way around stubborn men. But Law was different. He was cold and grim and always wanted to be right.

You were annoyed by him from day one. Annoyed because this handsome, strong pirate was making you feel things. And that completely destroyed your former inner harmony.

There were either constant arguments or harsh silence between you. Sometimes he ignored you for days. At first you didn’t understand why he stayed with your crew, if he hated it so much.

But every now and then you could see a different side to him. How he talked caringly to Chopper about medication, how he complimented Sanji's cooking, how he gave Robin a brief smile after she had shown him her newest book collection in the library.

But these little moments were never with you. Every interaction between you and him was a disaster. He was grumpy, stressed and strict. So most times he just gave you a weird glance or turned the other way when he saw you walking towards him.

At least you had tried. But ever since Law decided to treat you differently from the other crew members and set out to make your life a living hell, you didn't want to be the friendly one either. You were sure, he didn’t have a problem with the rest of the crew. His problem was you.

But the heat was getting to everyone, and with such temperatures you can shortly forget the real problems.

Especially after Law had gotten rid of his long coat and overly thick sweater. Even his hat, which he usually wears, had been laying on the table next to his medicine and history books for almost half an hour.

And law without all that, was definitely interesting enough to briefly forget what the real problem was.

Tattoos on his upper and lower arms, his dark hair crushed and disheveled from wearing his hat. And his warm eyes that were now really visible for the first time.

"Robin! ... Why is he like that?"

" like what, y/n?"

" like so... so... so arghhhhh..., annoying ?! Angry? Attractive?!" You sighed and put your hands before your face. Not wanting even more people to see your blushing face.

Robin grinned again and took the book off her lap.

" so you do fancy him. Nami and I were right. ... hey Usopp! You owe me 50 berry!"

"Oh no. You did a bet on me ?!"

You loved Robin. She was the most beautiful, intelligent and loving woman you knew. But sometimes you were a tiny bit mad at her for knowing you so well. You couldn’t keep any secret from her. This woman had all the wisdom of the world (+ the gossip on the sunny ) in her head.

" I just don't get why someone who has that gorgeous hair and pretty smile, is such an asshole."

" Law isn't that terrible, Y/N. I told you he's just shy around new people. He'll make friends with you sooner than you know, I'm sure of it. And I don't think he hates you. He just doesn't know how to talk to you yet."

"Yeah, but he can't really get to know me and be my „ friend“, if he always leaves the room when I walk in.... I just want to know why he won't at least try to be friendly to me.

I mean, we have a lot in common. And I was really nice to him on his first day here. I showed him around the ship and even made him fresh juice from Nami’s trees and prepared his room. And all I got was a grumpy face and not a single comment.

And I just don’t know what is wrong with me?! He likes you guys, and he is so kind to Chopper." A sad frown making its way onto your face.

„sounds like you are jealous.“

Nami hadn’t really participated in the conversation yet. But she just enjoyed teasing you too much.

„ ahhh… just shut up, Nami.“

Now hiding your entire body under the beach towel you had brought with you.

You sigh after rolling your eyes for a moment. This wasn’t helping. You would have to find out what exactly his problem with you was.

Later that day, you helped Sanji in the kitchen. You were preparing some muffins for after dinner.

" Hey, can I ask you something?"

" Sure thing, honey. What's on your mind?"

Nervously, you bite your lip. Should you really ask Sanji for help? He certainly wasn't your first choice, but you felt you had to talk to a man. And the other men on board wouldn't be much help either.

„ but of course you are! You are incredibly beautiful and as pretty as a glowing nightsky or a bouquet of expensive flowers.“

Sanji was dancing around you with hearts in his eyes. Making weird noises while twirling like a ballerina.

That’s exactly why you were nervous. Surly Sanji wasn’t the right one to talk about this. But you at least had to try and find out what was wrong with you.

„ but like… do you like my personality too?“

„ yes of course sweetheart, you are the kindest, sweetest and most loving creature to ever bless my eyes.“

„and do you think that the others think so too? That I m helpful ? And kind ? And have a purpose on this ship?“

Sanji stopped dancing and looked at you seriously. „ why are you doubting yourself so much Y/N ? Of course the others think so too. You are part of our Nakama. What makes you think that way? „

Sanji stepped behind you and wrapping his arm around you. „Did the stupid Marimo say something again? I told you not to listen to the shit he says.“

You sat down on one of the chairs next to the kitchen table.

You immediately felt your chest tighten. You didn't want to cry. You really didn't. But the whole thing bothered you more than you initially thought.

"I just don't understand what I did wrong. I was only ever friendly and did everything I could to make him like me. But he hates me and I don't know why."

You sat uncomfortably on the chair with your legs drawn up. Sanji had never seen you so irritated.

" hey hey. It's all good, y/n. Who are you talking about?"

" The fucking Doctor, of course..."

Sanji smirked. He had almost suspected that. He had seen how you kept looking after the dark-haired man after he had ignored you and quickly left the room.

" I just don't get it! Why does he hate me? I've really tried everything, but he won't even look at me when I talk to him.

I've been asking myself for days... am I so ugly that he can't even bear to look at me? Is there really nothing to like about me?“

Hot tears started falling. Your flushed cheeks covered with them.

You didn't deserve all this attention you were hoping for. There was a reason nobody loved you. Something must be wrong with you. Something everybody probably knew, but was too afraid to tell you.

Were you this hard to love ? Why did you have to be so interested in this dude anyway?! Oh yeah, he was gorgeous to look at, intelligent like no other and had seen more of the world than you could ever dream of. Of course you had a stupid crush on him. But for him, you were only air. Or maybe something worse.

Sanji didn’t know if he should laugh or cry with you. He couldn’t believe how stupid you were. Almost as stupid as his captain and the dumb green haired swordsman.

„ y/n hey. Calm down. It’s okay. Nobody hates you. Shhh.“

His arms wrapped around you and held you in a tight embrace.

He almost chuckled thinking about what happend just a few hours before.

Law couldn’t take it anymore. The weather was already killing him. But seeing you in just your short bikini, laying just a few feet from him in the glistening sun. That was clearly to much.

He frowned under his breath. What a cruel joke. Almost as if his crew was behind an evil prank. Watching him, suffering all by himself.

He knew he was fucked the moment he saw you for the first time. He was just saying goodbye to his crew, when he spotted the newest crew member on deck. You were holding Chopper up like a toddler. Making sure he wasn’t gonna fall overboard, while still being able to see the other pirate ship.

Law had looked at you far to long for his liking. Your hair floating around you in the sea wind. And your bright smile lighting up his entire mood. You were mesmerizing.

How did Strawhat-ya always find these people? Law was almost jealous. Even tho he knew he wouldn’t be able to have a woman like you on his crew. It would never work out.

Looking up from his textbook he noticed you watching him again. In some wild fantasy in his head, he would wink at you now.

But Law was a serious man. He had things to do. And he couldn’t get distracted. Even tho the sight before him was definitely something he couldn’t forget in a while, he knew it wouldn’t be good if he was gonna stay sitting at this place. His mind was already wandering to very different places.

This wasn’t good.

Law exhaled and got up. He picked up the textbook before him and went inside. The kitchen wasn’t nearly as hot as the outside and definitely not as distracting.

The blonde cook was standing next to the stove preparing something that looked like dinner.

„ Hey. Is it okay if I sit here for a while?“

The cook turned around and gave him a kind smile.

„ sure. I don’t mind. Was it to hot for you outside?“

„ something like that.“ Law muttered, wishing he wouldn’t have noticed how the sentence had a double meaning. Ignoring Sanjis knowing grin he pretended to already be occupied with his book again.

During the afternoon, some crew members came by the kitchen. Law remained quietly seated at the table, absorbed in his studies.

Even when Nami and Robin entered the kitchen together, still dressed only in their bathing suits, Law did not look up from his work. There was no reaction to be seen on his face.

The others had been observing this behavior for a while. And Sanji was pretty sure by now.

His expression was mostly relaxed or thoughtful. Busy with his work. But that could change abruptly. Because Law showed some other forms of reaction as soon as you entered the room.

You had fallen asleep in the afternoon sun and after finding the deck empty, the first thing you did was head for the kitchen. A glass of water was now your only salvation.

Sanji saw you climb the stairs to the kitchen. And even though he would have liked to continue looking out of the window, enchanted by your face, he had more important things to do. His gaze darted back to the Surgeon of Death as inconspicuously as possible.

When you entered the room, he had already given himself away. Law's face was strangely tense. His eyes stared as unnaturally as Sanji had ever seen them, at the sheet of paper in front of him.

Bingo.

Sanji knew exactly what was going on.

Only when y/n turned to Sanji did Law look up from his book.

Law had to swallow. The view in front of him made him freeze for a moment. His mind going absolutely blank.

The next time Sanji turned his gaze to Law, he held his hand in front of his nose. He rushed out of the kitchen with a bright red head.

Sanji couldn't help but grin. So he had been right all along.

Nami, Robin and Sanji whispered through the night. Their captain laying and snoring between them. Luffy had initially been very excited about this secret meeting. But after he had found out that it was only about you and Law, he had fallen asleep from boredom.

"Haha, I knew it." Nami was beaming from ear to ear.

"Usopp doesn't stand a chance. I'll be rich tomorrow!!!"

"Oh Nami love, it can't just be all about money for you, can it? After all, it's about love, devotion and passion. Law is so attracted to Y/N that he can't even stand to be in the same room with her."

Sanji got heart eyes. "That's the most romantic thing I've ever witnessed. Oh to be in lovee..."

Robin giggled. "So what exactly are we going to do now?“

„ We have to get them to confess to each other !!“ Nami hushed to her friends „and not just for the money“ she added while holding her hands up in the air. Signaling a promise.

„ Maybe we could set up a romantic date for the two of them. I could cook their favorite meals and“ Sanjis lovestruck face suddenly changed into a dark frown.

„ Watch over them, because if Traffy tries to hurt my dear Y/Ns feelings I will kill him.“

„ Oh we shouldn’t do that Sanji, it would be more than stupid to do that. If he hurts her I will simply give him to the marines. At least we could make a profit like that.“ Nami was grinning proudly at her plan.

„ My dear friends, I don’t think that’s gonna happen. Let’s see, Franky said that he didn’t have time yet to repair the door to our storage room yet… let’s say for some unknown reason he doesn’t repair it until in a few days? I m sure there is enough other work around the sunny!“

„ What are you suggesting Robin, Dear?“

The dark haired woman placed her chin on her hand, grinning into the blonde cooks face with a mischievous look in her eyes.

„ You’ll see Sanji. You’ll see.“

[expectiations]

I can't believe it's been four months since we've been given the absolute gift that is the NineRiver audios. I remember weeping at 1 am over them and just melting at the way Nine became the most protective, most gentle, caring person after understanding River. Oh to be able to listen to Star-Crossed again for the first time!

On one note, I have seen people claim that for this particular regeneration, they're in a QPR. I object, but that's not what I started this post for.

Just like what is said in this post, the Doctor and River constantly fall in love with each other because River is River and the Doctor is the Doctor. They just click. It's evidenced by this specific pairing too. Sure, Nine may have been brash and rude to her at first but it changes once he processed the fact that apparently, he'd open up enough to marry someone in the future.

I may have said this before but one of the things I love about Archipelago is how it dispels any notion that the Doctor is forced to have sex with River. I have seen too often enough the (loudly incorrect) takes over that idea which irks me out because frankly, which version of Doctor Who did they watch? Cause it was clear af that the Doctor's very much into her and is always the one who instigates physical affection—cheek kisses, nose bump bops, see-you-next-adventure kisses, etc. Their marriage isn't built around sex. There is mutual trust and respect (and steamy, hot sparks) between these two. While some have chosen to gleefully point out that they're in a QPR, once again I respectfully disagree. If you insist, just scroll away.

I also love how he tries to understand, to *know* her. He reads her diary and tries to fathom the timey-wimey life they lead. He is basically acting the way any other regeneration of the Doctor would when they meet River, except this one is fresh out of the Time War and the wounds are still too raw and the loathing still too loud. Not that it got better by the time they met in the Library but relatively and all that.

Have I mentioned that I melt over how he's also *reaaally soft* with River? When River cries out of disappointment, he asks her what's wrong. She tries to 'hide the damage' but he shushes her and tells her to tell him what is wrong. When River tells him he should have left her in the time storm, he quietly tells her that that was never going to happen. And mind you, that was even *before* he read her diary.

For an endless moment, they had their happily ever after. They got to grow 'old' together. They got to exchange secrets no other version of the Doctor or River will *ever* know. And while there are conflicting interpretations of the part where River says 'they finally lay again together', I choose to believe they somehow found a way to have sex. Although I wouldn't be able to comprehend how considering they had crystals all over their bodies but unless I'm taking things literally, it's River and it's the Doctor and between the two of them, they're very much likely able to work it out lol

The penultimate part for me was right before they reset the timeline. When River told him that it's *the most romantic thing* he's ever done, that he's not just doing it for the timelines but he's doing it for them. He's giving up everything they had for everything they will have. And he responds that if it works, he'll have a lifetime to prove otherwise.

Oh and did I mention that I started sobbing uncontrollably AT ONE AM IN THE MORNING when I realized that their time together has left an indelible imprint in the universe??

Literally peak soulmate-ism.

[alexendria-rose]

~The love Between a sorcerer and an ex assassin~ 3

Part 1, Part 2

A/n- so this is a little bit of the readers childhood past, this is mostly what the chapter is about. It will be a lot, I won’t go into specific details because that’s too much but I will basically be stating it. And yes the avengers do break up in this and I know it doesn’t make sense since Thor hair was already cut and Stephen isn’t in any of it but ya know it’s a fanfic so cut me some slack lol but most of it from here on out should be accurate. Also more of Stephen and readers slow burning love.

Warnings: cussing, Childhood trauma, SA, assault, PTSD, the inability to have children:(

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

I never should’ve gotten involved between Tony and Steves fight. And now here I am hiding out in the sanctum, knowing Stephen would take me in. We’ve gotten closer in the last couple months-him not getting involved with either sides. Well unfortunately for me I was; especially on Steves side, where I was a walking criminal now and didn’t know where the others were-before I got onto that stupid jet; Stephen decided to get me before I got to far into the fight. The fight against the only family I knew triggering me in ways I didn’t even know. I couldn’t sleep knowing the avengers were split up and no longer had that family bond that we all once had. It was rough- not being able to go to Natasha and rant to her about this going around in my head. Now I was stuck with my thoughts- my childhood/the red rom triggering all of it; thinking about how it all started when I officially became a widow and there was not turning back,

“No please don’t!” My 5 year old self cried, the tears rolling down my cheeks as they pinned me down to the gurney. The doctor pinned my wrist down before putting a cuff on both of them.

“This is for the better. Dear child.” The doctor shushed me before patting my hair in a disgusting manner. “We’re just going to do a small procedure…” he whispered harshly. The other male opening up my small legs. I sobbed loudly wondering and pondering what procedure they should attempt to do-I was just a child not realizing that they were about to take the ability of not being able to have them myself. The doctor sticks the needle in my neck-me screaming at the pinch before realizing the black around me.

The fact that Draykov had so much faith in me at such a little age-made me sick to my stomach. Five years old I got the involuntary hysterectomy… most widows didn’t get those until they finally graduated but he knew I didn’t remember much of my family being the youngest widow; easily brainwashed it was like he kept me as a little trophy to prove to the other girls that I was smarter, swifter and better then them which made me an easy target for the girls that were jealous of the “great treatment” I was getting-not knowing being the favorite was ten times worse.

Draykov watched as I continued to fight the widow in front of me, my small arms and tiny body that was not even reached to full adulthood-just merely 12 years old, fought a widow much bigger then me; much older, more experienced. But for me-I was still quicker, faster and had much more advantage than her. I swept under her feet making her fall harder onto her back punching her across the face in the process knocking her out in an instant. Draykov starts clapping slowly making his way towards me before grabbing my chin- his thumb caressing my lip.

“Good job little one, look at you go.” He voice dripping with venom and poise. The way his eyes flicked up and down my body with the very exposed tightness of the suit clinging into the youth of my skin. I shake slightly under his touch, terrified as I stared at him.

“Thank you.” I mumble trying to stop the shake in my hands as he stared at me. The other widows watched in distaste, Natasha was the only one who looked at Draykov with disgust and anger in her eyes at the situation. God how badly I wish I can run away from this with her. Draykov grins at me his hand moving down to my waist caressing it with a soft touch but a disgusting one at that.

“This is why you’re the best widow my child.” He whispers lightly his hand resting on my waist. “You’ll get your reward later.” My stomach drops knowing exactly what that “reward” implied, something painful, something I’ve always wanted to stop but never could knowing it would just lead to torture rather than death. Draykov pats my hip before moving swiftly away from me. Natasha looks my way as the tears start to cloud my eyesight before looking at the widow that was unconscious below me- I quickly blink the tears away trying not to let the emotions fall knowing that punishment would eat away at me, I couldn’t be a weak widow-

The memory often ate me up, it hurt me that I couldn’t stop it but hurt more that I was just a child. A grown man idolizing a child that way… I laid in my bed staring at the wall before slightly gazing at the alarm clock near the bed- oh wow that’s lovely it’s already 1:00Pm and I’m here doing nothing. I sigh loudly taking the blanket off my body, my body shivering from the heat that was taken off my body but the cold hitting my exposed skin instead. My head pounded as I sat up too fast, the memories that sat in my head were knocking against my skull. I didn’t even notice the dry tears on my cheeks nor the red dark circles under my eyes. Why did the avengers have to split up? Everything was good, everything was great until that moment that everything went down hill for the team. And here I was hiding out in the sanctum because I was a literally criminal now; well I guess I’ve always have been… I guess it’s a different kind now huh?

I feet pad towards the kitchen in the sanctum rubbing my red eyes from the lack of sleep.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” I jump slightly at the voice turning around to face the only voice that I knew better then ever now.

“Why do you do that!” I groan towards Stephen. He chuckles lightly walking towards me as I lean against the counter. He stands right in front of me-way too close where our bodies are basically touching but reaches above me grabbing a mug a smile on that stupid smug face.

“For an assassin you really don’t seem to focus on your surroundings.” He laughs softly before moving his body away from me. Suddenly missing the closeness- nope can’t think of that. I roll my eyes at him before turning around and grabbing my own mug.

“An ex assassin.” I mumble lightly watching Stephen grab the pot of coffee pouring some in his mug, I bring my mug out giving him pleading eyes. “Can I have some?”

“You can,” he quicks an eyebrow giving me his teasing stupid smile.

“You know what I mean!”

“I know what you mean but you’re not saying it right.” He laughs moving the pot away from my grasp, I move my way in front of him trying to grab the pot from his hand but he moves way up so I couldn’t reach it.

“You’re an asshole. You know I could just flip you. Remember I’m an assassin.” I mocked him from what he said from earlier.

“You know that’s an unfair advantage. I’m just looking for one word.” He jokes looking down at me with a grin on his face. I try to jump up to grab the pot but he keeps it out of my reach before I end up tripping on my own toes because of my own stubbornness(can’t believe I use to be an assassin) Stephen uses his other arm catching me in the process of me basically almost falling flat on my face, my face close to his and his close to mine. My hand automatically placed on his chest as I looked at him. The tension obviously there from the way we both freeze from the contact, the intense eye contact. My eyes flickering all over his face, his doing the same as both our breath hitched at the same time. His head seemed to move closer to mine, my head unintentionally moving closer to his before realizing the situation; I grab the pot from his hand pushing my body away from him as quickly as I could. He clears his throat noticing the way I was hastily pouring the coffee in my cup trying to escape this situation.

I didn’t understand how Stephen made me feel these things. The way my heart always sped up around him, or the fact whenever he got super close my mouth would go dry, or whenever he would sit at his desk while I read my eyes would always linger towards him. Was it just strong friendship feelings? Maybe… but it was different that’s for sure. Something I haven’t felt before, but it also felt wrong. Part of me knew what I was feeling but that also scared me. Knowing I told myself that I would never get close to someone like that. Never. And I mean never.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

“Y/n. It’s a go.” The widow whispered into my earpiece. I brought the sniper up to my eye as I watched the person I had to take out. I didn’t care for who it was, my brain felt blank, as I just followed instructions. Yelena stood next to me as she stared at the same girl. I look towards Yelena and nod silently.

“Ready.” I mumble. Yelena nods back, focusing on the mission on hand.

“Fire on the place of three.” Yelena mumbles. “5,4-“ suddenly the alarms start ringing and kids start shouting. “She made us, target deployed smoke.”

“She’s on foot with the package. Stay high. Yelena and I are going to ground.” I mumble into the earpiece placing the sniper down as does Yelena. Before we start repealing from the roof onto the ground. We unhook our things before dashing towards the woman on foot with the package. We kick down the door that she moves across the woman getting hit with a car in the process. Yelena sees the package immediately going towards it, I run towards the woman tackling her down so she could grab the package, the woman starts to tackle me back before landing a hard punch on my face kicking Yelena legs in the process and grabbing the package back, she grabs Yelena hair pulling it back trying to get her to drop the knife but she also grabs a the thing from the package spraying it in Yelena face. I grab the woman while Yelena looks lose all the suddenly. I grab my knife before stabbing the woman in the stomach, and Yelena snaps her head towards me.

“Y/n stop!” She yells, the woman lays still looking at both of us, as I stand up to look at Yelena.

“Spray her with it.” The woman grunts out. “Free the others.” She manages to gasp out. Yelena looks at me as I glare Yelena the antidote holding close to my chest. Yelena grunts before trying to grab the bag from me but I kick her down grabbing my knife- not knowing what I was doing I start to lift my hand to stab Yelena but she was able to grab the antidote before I could spraying it on my face. I gasp out loudly dropping the knife in the process looking down what I was doing; wait where was? What was I doing? Yelena?

“Yelena?” I gasp out looking down at her, tears welling up in my eyes realizing I was about to kill the only kind of sibling I had.

I scream out loudly as I sat up from my bed. The sweat collecting on my forehead-actually everywhere on my body. I gripped the bedsheets as the tears welled up in my eyes thinking of the awful memory of being mind-controlled. All the evil things that draykov did while being mind controlled. How much he took advantage of that situation. My bedroom slams open revealing a very worried and scared Stephen. My hands start to shake as I look at him trying to form some sort of words. The tears trickling down my cheek. He rushes over to me moving himself on the bed before holding me close to his body. I grip onto his shirt my eyes wide in fear, he rocks me trying to calm my shaking form.

“It’s okay. I’m right here.” He consoles running his shaky fingers through my hair holding me close and tight; I feel my body relax from his warm and gentle hands running through my hair. I sigh deeply sniffling softly.

“I wish it was just a nightmare.” I murmur out calming down my breathing and my trembling. He places his head ontop of mine.

“We don’t have to talk about.” He coax me softly his voice gentle and tender as he continues to rock me and hold me close. “Just relax, I know you haven’t slept in days. I need you to sleep.” He moves his hand to my back rubbing gentle motions to calm me down. I take a deep inhale breath appreciating the fact that he wasn’t forcing me to talk but rather worried by the fact I was indeed not sleeping well. He lays down against the bed more, my head on his chest as he continues to rub circles on my back and his moving through my hair. I close my hairs enjoying hearing his heart beating against my ear, and his soft breaths included in so.

“Don’t leave.” I muttered sleepily holding him close as I feel the sleep overcome me.

“I won’t. Im right here doll.” He whispers before the sleep finally overwhelms me.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

The feeling of two strong arms around me, the soft patterns of breathing overshadow me as I start to stir slightly; I open my eyes to see the familiar cheekbones and facial hair that I’ve become accustomed to. His lips slightly parted from his soft breathing, his chest heaving up and down, and the way his nose scrunched up at whatever dream he was having; made my heart fluttering. He slowly opens his eyes sleepily looking down at me, he hums gently rubbing my back gently.

“You okay?” He says in a murmur but in a raspy sort of way. Who knew his voice could go even deeper. I nod shyly not use to being this close to a man(well consensually…) I had to admit this was the best sleep I’ve ever gotten- well ever.

“I’m okay.” I whisper quietly. “Thank you.” He closes his eyes leaning his head back a small smile coming up to his lips.

“Anything for you.”

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆ ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ

A/n: LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA BE ON TAG LIST. LOVE YOU ALL. please let me know if you like this btw I want to see love in the comments!!

[queenofmalkier]

In regards to the arrow removal, I think a lot of people are not considering the context in which Nynaeve made the decision. And I am here to defend my wife, obvy.

For starters - they're going to Egwene, who Nynaeve refuses to think of as anything but 100% FINE AND OKAY AND DEFINITELY NOT TRAUMATIZED. And Egwene can channel which means she can heal.

Nynaeve spent enough time in the tower to basically see the impossible compared to her knowledge of healing before. Suddenly a lot of her knowledge is irrelevant because the one power can fix things better than she can with traditional medicine. Nynaeve is stubborn, but she takes healing seriously. She'll always choose the best option.

That informs her decision. The most important thing is getting Elayne off the active battlefield and to Egwene for healing. The closest I can think of is Star Trek - you wouldn't treat a wound when in ten minutes it's going to be gone, you just need to get the injured person to the doctor.

(Side note but I don't believe she had anything on her to even treat a wound at the time, either, given the sul'dam costume.)

Now, I've gone through a lot of first aid training due to various jobs I've held, so I'm right there with everyone saying not to take it out! You do not take the thing out. Never, ever, ever. Pulling/pushing it out can cause more damage and more bleeding and no one but a medical professional should be touching that sort of injury. This is a modern approach though! Remember, context.

I've seen a lot of people talking about her breaking the shaft before pushing it through, but that would actually be worse. There's no way to cleanly break the fletching away, which means by tugging it through she'd be introducing splinters of wood into the wound. Also the breaking is in regards to arrowheads, not the fletching.

The fletching (feathers on the back) is not actually the dangerous part of the arrow. I've seen some people say it was a crossbow bolt, but either way, from what we were shown the arrowhead itself had exited Elayne's leg already. If that was the case, pushing the shaft through wouldn't actually be harmful to her. It would hurt like hell, but it wouldn't cause any more damage.

I tried finding some actual sources for this specific scenario, but unfortunately most articles are focused on removing the arrowhead and not the shaft (and were also paywalled, boo). The closest I found was information from U.S. Army Surgeon Joseph H. Bill who essentially catalogued American Indian arrows as a way to determine the best removal technique.

He advised not applying traction to the shaft due to the likelihood of the arrowhead coming lose and remaining in the body, but I couldn't find what he advised if the arrowhead had already passed through the body although I did find this quote "An arrow may be pushed out as well as plucked out."

I DID find this lovely gentleman giving a very in depth discussion on medieval arrows as well as removal techniques and some of those are shove it through and hope for the best. (He also mentioned that healing the infection was what doctors and healers handled rather than wounds which... wow. Remind me to never be a medieval soldier in case I ever get that longing.)

So, yeah. I trust Nynaeve was right about her approach to the wound, and I feel like this is a case of a modern audience not trusting her knowledge because of our own knowledge of how those injuries are approached currently. I do think the scene could have been improved (in that regard) if they had Nynaeve explain her thought process, but overall, we got the point: Nynaeve felt like an utter failure, she couldn't help her friend, she couldn't do anything with all her alleged power. What good is she to her friends?

[lazymonth]

More art for Wondergøtten crossover and Bible accurate Dr Facilier. Concept of Truila outfit that match with The card holder

Have a reference from Turbo outfit concept specially Doctor Vøodoo’s one made by the creator of Wondergøtten @danisha-tdh ( I’ll give a credit to the creator of this concept every time 👍🏻 )

Dr Facilier kinda have a little bit of customize because I never see him in full version as The Wheel of Fortune. So, I find everything I can about his design mixing him with The Princess and the Frog’s style

————————

Also, have a little fact here about how it choose Tarot card for each of the characters. Mostly I picking it from what Tarot meaning is match with the characters backstory ↷

( sorry for my bad English too </33 )

Truila as Wheel of Fortune : Journey through life’s cycles, turning points, and the beauty of embracing change. All this meaning is match with her backstory about how Truila’s life changed completely after she hacked her own game. It’ll never back to the same but she need to live with it no matter what. It’s turning good or even worse she can’t design it

Cassie Kane as The Emperor : Leadership, power, authority, and success in the material world. It’s a good describe words of what Truila has become after disguised herself as Cassie. When it’s the first time she’s winning, Cassie quickly full with ego and doing anything to win again and again. Stuck in the short joy of wining like a drug… in other words she has become what Turbo has been

Richard as The Tower : Danger, crisis, sudden change, destruction, higher learning, and liberation. Both of the twins were at the peak of their lives before Truila make it all fall apart and make their game need to be unplugging. They not even have a chance to prepare anything it’s like just a blink every thing their have is all gone. Sadly they’re not going to the “ higher learning and liberation” part yet

Rogers as The Chariot : Determination, willpower, and the ability to overcome obstacles on our path to personal growth and success. After The twins lost everything they need to stand by their own self living the new hard life being homeless for over 10 years. But their have a hard determination on one thing… make Truila pay for what she have done ( bonus : The twins are not specific about which one is the older or younger brother but indeed Rogers is giving the older brother energy by take care a lot of stuff. So, this card might be match for him )

Octane as The Hermit : Will, he’s actually not my character but he’s my friend Oc @-itschr1spy but I just gonna describe a bit about how he match with The hermit. Octane is depressed guy his body and code has be ruled by the effects of Turbo-time getting unplugged. So, he’s match with The reversed Meaning. Loneliness, paranoia, isolation, bring reclusive, withdrawal, anti-social, restrictive, paralysed by fear. And why it’s need to be reversed? Well, as I remember what my friend say about concept of Octane he’s the opposite of Turbo ( maybe? )

[disabledstraydogs]

For the ship ask game:

Sigma(Autism, ocd) and Nikolai(adhd, bpd, and schizophrenia)

💮🪷🌹🌷🌲

Long post up ahead! Also using they/them for Sigma (ngl I was so close to using she/her for Nikolai then I remembered that this is not about the fem DOA agenda).

💮- If one of the characters in the ship are having a bad disability day how long does it take the other(s) to pick up on the fact that they're struggling? Are they good at picking up on the signs, if not, is there a point that they do notice without being told?

Hmm, this is an interesting question. I think Nikolai is better aat picking up on body language than Sigma, so if Sigma is having compulsions and/or is overwhelmed Nikolai picks up on it and carries them out of wherever they're stuck in.

Sigma on the other hand is not very good at picking up on subtle hints, they only seem to realize when Nikolai is having an episode which does make them hate themselves. It's ironic because Nikolai isn't one to hide his emotions or his mental health (if he's suffering everyone within a 10 mile radius will know), it's just that Sigma's autism can impact how much they can pick up on, how dedicated they are with work and how rapid Nikolai's mental health can change, it doesn't give them a lot of opportunity to notice.

🪷- If all characters in the relationship are disabled, what would happen if all of them were having a bad disability day?

This is a complex situation because usually when the other is in a bad place they both want to care for the other. They will go to lengths to try and help, but usually this makes them both worse and/or can lead to arguments. Because of this a third party is usually brought in to make sure that they're both okay and coping.

🌹- How did the people in the relationship find out that their partner(s) are disabled? Was it a shock? Did the disability happen while they were already in their relationship?

I think for Sigma they've always known that Nikolai struggles with his mental health, so when Nikolai opened up about his diagnosis they took the time to research each disability and make sure that they were prepared (or at least as prepared as you can be for these types of things).

Nikolai picked up on Sigma having autism pretty much instantly, although given that Sigma wasn't created until recently, they don't know they're neurodivergent until Nikolai asks them about it directly. Sigma then goes to a doctor and starts a diagnostic process soon after.

However Nikolai is not ready for the ODC diagnosis, although when he thinks about it this makes sense, but he hadn't thought about it too deeply considering that he doesn't know a lot about OCD.

🌷- How does being disabled imapct their love life? For example does it impact their date nights, activities they can and can't do as a couple, ect. (Note that this isn't a NSFW unless you want to answer it that way.)

Yes, pretty heavily. If they want to go out anywhere Nikolai has to be near an exit and against a wall so no one can sneak up on him from behind.

Sigma can't do places like movie theaters (too overwhelming sensory wise), Nikolai doesn't do well in the dark, Sigma doesn't eat specific foods from specific places, even being at home together can be an issue because Nikolai gets bored of being in the house too long.

They're still trying to work out where is the best place for them, but currently open nature based places (ie parks and fields) are a safe bet.

🌲- How do they accommodate eachother? Do they have a routine that helps with this? Do they do this consciously or subconsciously?

Nikolai is very much aware of how he accommodates Sigma, making sure that their spaces are clean and orderly, his natural instinct is to make a mess and be as loud as possible so he sometimes finds it hard to mellow himself as to make sure that Sigma is comfortable.

Sigma is also aware that they're making accommodations for Nikolai, with autism it's hard to put someone else first sometimes so it's a very deliberate thing that they have to do. The issue is that Sigma has had no prior experience being in a romantic relationship so they research pretty much everything before they do it. Nikolai finds this adorable and has told them not to worry so much (this only makes Sigma worry more) but their efforts are appreciated and acknowledged.

[oldsargasso]

ep 3 stream of conscious thoughts!

so I went and rewatched ep 2 in the hopes I might remember who is who🤞With the ending reveal that Tyme is working against the gambling ring, the way he listens to the woman in the hospital about how she lost her son to debt makes more sense now. Wondering if Tyme knew the son specifically, or someone like him - he obviously has a personal motivation to take out Great's family's business. (thunderstorm while she's talking - coming back I don't think we got a thunderstorm in ep3?)

also the fakeout on the identity of the dead guy is so perfect even second time around

I never noticed the hospital logo before; the cross with a heartbeat rhythm going through. subtle!

also how is Tyme literally looking in a mirror yet is surprised to find Bee behind him when he turns around. he must've really been focussed huh

the high-pitched flatline whine during serious moments…god this show is so good

okay NOW i'm gonna watch ep3

is that the body from ep2's first scene? my interest in the brother character (??name I should remember) would go up immeasurably if he was secretly a serial killer ngl. probably more like he's revenging his brother by killing his killer the same way which is also pretty good. coming back to remind myself his name is Tonkla.

oh Great asked him? hmmm.

bed #4 you love to see it!

so Tyme has a bit of a saviour complex. or control issues (relatable). Dr Den might be a little too emotional for this part of the job though

Great has a pool table in his place? I desperately need a floor plan of his apartment. how is he living like this. not the #4 ball as the phone shows 11:01 this episode was like SEE. DO YOU GET IT YET. idc I love it

do we think Great is a little dumb? if I thought I was seeing things and recently acquired a headwound I would definitely be seeing many doctors immediately. oooh LUCKY there is one doctor already on the case it seems

(so Tyme just showed up at Great's school - how does he know where Great goes to school/when he's there - and asks a random student to give Great a drink from him?)

"can you forgive me Great?" omgggg. vision of the future or a divergent timeline orrrrr.

I don't care if the flirting has ulterior motives it's adorable and I love it

so Great's ~episodes~ are 100% being used to get him to alter his actions/path to move toward Tyme. I like the theory that it's future-Great coding out manipulating his past self but also I enjoy the idea that it's someone else (Tyme himself?)

Tyme clearly thinking "okay so it's you…who should be a psychiatric patient". personally I would've been like let's go to the hospital and get an MRI or something but asking your friends is doing something too I guess

P'Tyme 🥺

I love how much interaction we get of Tyme and other staff in the hospital, so we get to see the different sides of him. the way he and Den are together is DELIGHTFUL.

fascinating (and feels a little like we're getting dessert first) that it's only ep3 and we're already getting the characters talking and linking things we as the audience got to do earlier, like the heart patient who mentioned 4 minute future to Den.

Tyme's already asking "why 4 minutes?" this show is so good to me. I have medical-related theory that I generally feel like the show will go for, but I'm interested to see how it plays out

they're on a date your honour. what if Tyme was hungry though. circling back to my "is Great just dumb" question because clearly it's going through Tyme's mind rn. I think it's just a matter of privilege in this case though.

Tyme's a nerd too. control issues peeking through!

(the need I have for a terrible cat soft toy is ever growing)

the juxtaposition of Great's (bright red) car against the dilapidated fence around Tyme's house…chef's kiss. I love that they're having a little conversation about their different statuses.

the way they perfectly captured the awkwardness of sitting in the car at the end of a date lmao. the heaviness/weight/don't know what word I mean in the way Great moved his arm was perfect.

(not really relevant to this scene but do we know how old Tyme is?)

Great truly living out the stereotype of held a guy's hand once and is already picturing their life together

it's interesting that they said specifically 4 minutes into the future but Great is clearly seeing more than that when he is with Tyme. they're gonna kiss and then Tyme's grandma is going to be standing there like :| OR NOT LMAO she's not even looking you can still go for it my guy

you may have ONE of the many cat toys we won

I know it was mostly a pause for emotional processing but good to see Great is the wait until you're inside kinda guy

my girl better be getting very richly rewarded for all the work she is doing to take down this gambling ring. I hope she gets to kill someone

NOOO. jump into the water!!

feel like the chief could've handled that better. and more privately. that was like textbook suspicious

omg that zebra artwork!!

okay I zoned out let me start this scene again. this couldn't have been a phone call? oh I guess not lol

couldn't even close the drawer properly smh rookie move

he's a cop!!! dude. not only is he grieving he's high af right now.

I'll be honest I skipped the sex scene so if it had important character work or something let me know

Tonkla's definitely using sex to foster intimacy I just hope he's doing it in a manipulative way

I guess it makes sense that they all go to the same school. a case for divergent timelines I think re: the identity of the deceased

smoking and watching traffic in his underwear, Great has the most relatable hobbies

ohhh progression!!! 11.02. two more minutes to go?

look at Great using 2 colours for his little brainstorming. now that is organised. I like how he immediately calls tyme like. maybe he's at work. (I think the "sex?" note should be screenshot and used everywhere)

"do not hurt her under any circumstances" except for she already got shot so

well I guess the good doctor is at work in a way. is this the most soundproofed open hallway in existence?

was that a look of recognition or not. I guess not. okay Tyme!!! we love a man of action with a brain.

ughhh is it next Friday yet.

[scarlet--wiccan]

Hello! I was wondering, what would you classify as the outfits defining the different eras of Wanda? Like her first, classic, Wada, and Dauterman outfits.

Well, I think you've kinda answered your own question. Wanda's had lots of costumes, but her most iconic ones can usually be attributed a specific artist's work on a specific book. She didn't really start changing up her look until the 90s, but I would say that her most iconic outfits, outside of the classic one, really are the Pérez dancer costume from Avengers (1998), and Kevin Wada's design from Scarlet Witch (2016). A lot of her other looks are more short lived, or just not well-remembered. The new one's made a big splash, but it's too soon to say what kind of staying power it'll have.

Some of those short-lived looks are actually my favorites, though, so I want to do a brief history of Wanda's costumes. This is only going to be from the main Earth-616 continuity, and, full disclosure, I'm cribbing most of these images from uncannyxmen.net's costume gallery.

The classic Scarlet Witch costume has had several variations over the years. She consistently wears some version of this outfit from the 60s through to the 90s, but there were often changes to the style and cut of her garments. She wore a wimple-like headpiece in her early appearances, and traded it in for the now-iconic M-shaped diadem in Avengers #36, published 1966. She also went through a few maternity versions of her costume during her pregnancy in Vision & The Scarlet Witch (1985).

Wanda's first major costume changes were actually the result of possession or mental manipulation-- when possessed by Chthon, Wanda takes on a ghastly appearance and her clothing transforms into a dark red bodysuit with a tattered cape, sans headpiece. [Avengers #186] Later, while under Immortus's influence, Wanda cuts her hair short, ditches the headpiece again, and dons a red-and-black costume with a dramatic purple cape. [Avengers West Coast #55]

Wanda began changing her look more frequently in the 90s. During the late run of Avengers West Coast through Force Works, she wore a red dress over a black one-piece, with a necklace, gloves, and boots-- no headpiece. This is the first real costume change that she made of her own volition. She also had a brief-lived costume which first appeared in The Crossing, that drew more inspiration from the magical characters in Doctor Strange.*

The Pérez design first appeared in the opening storyline of Avengers (1998). In an alternate reality conjured by Morgan le Fay, Wanda and Pietro both appear as sterotypical "gypsies." Wanda later adapted her her outfit from this world in a contemporary costume. This was intended as an earnest representation of Wanda's cultural identity, but it fell quite short of the mark. Alan Davis later designed a more conventional superhero suit combining many of the same elements, without being an ethnic costume.*

In the early 2000s, Wanda debuted a set of red body armor with that combined fantasy aesthetics with a superhero silhouette*. This what she's wearing during Disassembled, but it's not well-remembered, perhaps because of the understated color palette. Wanda returned in Children's Crusade wearing a slightly updated version of the classic costume, with a halterless one-piece and cowl-neck cloak. I think this is the version most people refer to when they draw her classic suit, so to that end, it might be the most iconic.

Wanda had another rapid succession of costume changes in the 2010s, starting with the knee-length red dress with built-in gloves she debuted in Uncanny Avengers (2013).* In the Uncanny Avengers 2015 miniseries, she and Pietro both donned new, but very short lived, futuristic costumes for a brief adventure into outer space.

Then, in late 2015, Wanda received her first solo title in two decades, and it came with full aesthetic overhaul. Kevin Wada designed a collection of looks inspired by witch-house and dark romance fashion trends. This was eventually streamlined into a cohesive superhero suit for other ongoing comics, with an ornate red bodice and jeweled diadem.

In 2022, Russell Dauterman designed Wanda's look for the second annual Hellfire Gala event, taking heavy inspiration from the silhouette of her Crossing costume and the darker, more ornate aesthetic of Wada's design. A slightly simplified version of this look became Wanda's main costume in Scarlet Witch (2023) Most notably, this design incorporates the same magical galaxy effect from her son Wiccan's costume into Wanda's skirt and hair, signifying her mastery of chaos magic. Whether or not this costume lasts, I believe that the dark, bejewelled aesthetic and galaxy effect will continue to define Wanda and Billy's looks for years to come.

*these are my personal underrated faves

[stitching-in-time]

Voyager rewatch s5 ep6: Timeless

A big episode for Harry, with a clever timey-wimey plot. Starting with two snow-suited people trekking across a snowy planet, only to find the USS Voyager buried in the ice, was a heck of an opening, and then finding out the episode is set 15 years in the future, with the events that led up to it on Voyager told in parallel, is a cool story device. Garrett Wang got to stretch as an actor, playing an older, embittered Harry Kim, who's wracked with guilt for accidentally killing the entire crew of Voyager, except himself and Chakotay. (Though I think they made him look too old- he was only in his 20s during Voyager, he wouldn't already be grey haired at like, under 45. But I guess accidentally killing your entire crew ages a person!)

Chakotay seems a lot more chill about the whole thing, (despite a creepy scene where he walks through the frozen bridge, and sees the whole bridge crew dead under the frost) and he even acquires a new girlfriend in the future timeline, who helps them out in their mission to save Voyager. (Chakotay is turning into an intergalactic ladies man at this point lol- poor J/C shippers!) Harry and Chakotay are conspiring to go back in time and change history, so that Voyager doesn't crash while using their experimental quantum slipstream drive. They're wanted by Starfleet for stealing the Delta Flyer and some Borg time-travel technology, and we even get a little cameo from LeVar Burton as Geordi LaForge, since LeVar directed the episode. They retrieve Seven of Nine's body so they can use some of her Borg tech (why is there a morgue drawer on board the Delta Flyer?! there is no way that was there before!) and they retrieve the mobile emitter so the Doctor can help them. (Specifically, they need him to dissect Seven's body to remove said Borg tech- which is more than a little creepy! They literally show him holding part of her Borg cranial implant with her prosthetic eyeball attached to it! And yet nobody bats an eyelash?! He just dissected their dead friend!! How is that not traumatic for them all?! Especially the Doctor who actually had to do it! Yikes!! They just conveniently glossed over that nightmare fuel!)

Meanwhile, back in the past, Tom realizes that there's a phase variance that will cause the slipstream to fail (Tom doing science! And at a party, no less! There's my good dutiful boy again!), but Harry figures out a plan to make the slipstream drive work, and volunteers to pilot the Delta Flyer ahead of Voyager to calculate the course corrections himself, which of course will lead to the disaster that his future self is trying to prevent. Twists and turns ensue, but future Harry finds a way to save Voyager in the end, while still getting them ten years closer to home. (I think that brings it down to 50 years from the Alpha Quadrant at this point? I know Kes knocked ten years off, did Q knock some time off too? I don't remember, but they're chipping away at that total pretty steadily.)

The episode is a big visual effects showcase, with the big crash scene on the ice planet, but mostly it's a character study for Harry, but also for Janeway. There are a lot of interesting parallels between Harry and the Captain in this ep, as the two people who are most determined to get home, and, with the alternate future, the most wracked with guilt over not doing enough to get the ship home safe. He's almost like a younger version of her- brilliant, eager to advance, totally devoted to the ideals of Starfleet- you can see why Janeway took a shine to Harry and became so protective of him- she saw so much of herself in him. (It makes you wonder if maybe Janeway became so parental toward him because she had an eye to him becoming her successor for the captain's chair in the event that Voyager did actually take 70 years to get home- it would have been an interesting concept to explore!) And the parallels between them are also strong in that both characters always choose to destroy whole timelines just to get back to and/or save Voyager. Above all else, both of them love that ship and her crew. It was certainly nice to have an episode that highlighted that love after some episodes that seemed to forget it. (Even the Doctor was helpful and encouraging here- a welcome change!)

Tl;dr: A cool time travel/alternate timeline episode with high stakes, that gave Harry some juicy dramatic writing, and reaffirmed the Voyager crew's devotion to each other as an important plot point, which I'm always here for.

[thehistoriangirl]

Where the Woods Brought Us Together [Final Part]

Thanks to everbody for read all the way until here :3 I hope you enjoy it.

Viktor x Fem!Reader-------/Magical Forest AU/------11.2K---NSFW, +18 only pls

Part One is here

Part Two is here

Summary [of this part]: With the arrival of the plague, you find that the final path is forked: the forest, or the town. Is onto you which one you decide to take, what you decide to become. It’s time for a proper love confession--even if time is running scarce; and you two can only hope that the forest can accept you as part of it so either Viktor or you have to fear about loss ever again.

Tags: Angst, Fluff, and Smut (in that order)| Domestic Fluff| Mentions of Illness and Plague| Near Death Experience| Magic and Rituals| Vaginal Fingering| Vaginal Sex (in the forest you guessed correctly)| Body Worshiping sprinkled somewhere| Eventual Happy Ending :)

Taglist: @local-mr-frog

Your steps echoed in the cobblestone as you reached the town square; smoke clouded the view of the limestone buildings as the incipient smell of powder made your nose itch.

So they were also trying to dissipate the miasma from the air.

The governess remained at your side as her assistants moved your patients inside the hospice, the wooden doors of the adjacent preaching room open as the bell rang announcing curfew.

You felt her stare but decide to ignore it as you slowly walked near the entrance, the chapel looming at you, new markings carved in the rock to ward off evil spirits—to ward off the forest’s powers, better put.

Inside, a nurse put a washbasin on your arms as soon as you crossed the threshold, not wanting to talk with the governess, or anyone, for that matter. The young woman barely looked at you as she said:

"Cot twenty-three, cold bath, and then one dose of camphor.” Her green eyes were cold. “Do not bleed them unless the doctor has specifically prescribed it. Did you hear me?”

Why not? Part of you wanted to argue with her, to give her a sour smile to try to pour out the growing regret of coming down here. What kind of witchcraft do you think I’d do with the blood?

Your teeth nibbled your cheek as you nodded, passing away from her and inside the hospice, mustard walls with wooden boards signaling the number of the cot, with no name of the patients. You knew that keeping track of a permanent series of numbers was easier than remembering the names of people that tomorrow could fade away.

Inside that place, time seemed to both run very fast and be bottled up in an agonizing routine. Trapped inside the town could make you feel that way, you thought because you were indeed trapped, not only for your inner sense of duty, but also for the curfew and the patrols of volunteers that stepped in the outskirts of town to look after new people entering the town, or trying to leave it.

You got used to sleeping in a cocoon, your back against the cold wall and a rag of a towel under your legs, your bag clutched on your chest as you were keeping some dry flowers and extra medications from your hut, many of them made with Viktor’s help.  

They may not have the courage to say it out loud, but the people started to think that the forest was to blame for this plague. Or at least, they blamed it because the woods wouldn’t magically cure it.

You didn’t want them to burn the contents of your bag only because they thought they’d be contaminated with the dark magic of the forest.

First, the sleepwalking kids that were lulled to stay at the forest’s edge, and now, the children that remained were falling as leaves in autumn for the fever. If the forest had killed the townsfolk before, you knew they were thinking as they eyed what kind of broth you were giving the sick, what assures us it won't do it again?

Of all the sick people, only around a third recovered, and you were too scared of them relapsing and dying anyway—you feared and loathed the side eyes the townsfolk gave to you when they believed you weren’t looking. The one that teachers would give you when you didn't perform as well as they expected you to do in the test. The same gaze your parents gave you when you told them you’d be covering your grandmother’s place as the village’s healer.

Her? No. We can’t trust her anymore.

Soon enough, the people forbid you to feed patients, and the doctor told you weren’t skillful enough to bleed them—despite you had been practicing the technique ever since you were studying medicine and botanic in college.

As a result, you stopped trusting the people that sent you food, eyeing the broth and tea as too opaque, the contents too mushy. It was pure paranoia, but you couldn't help it. When you could make enough time to eat, you preferred some boiled vegetables and some fruits you ate with your both hands as the hunger seemed to devour you from the inside out.

Sometimes a nurse would catch you on your lunchtime, mouth wet from nectar from the fruits, the inner part of your nails filled with green rests of vegetables.

A wild creature, you could look into their eyes, in the slight scowl of disgust and the widened eyes. An animal dressed in human skin. These moments were when you felt like an ultimate outsider to a world you never thought you’d lose connection to.

She has become part of the woods.

A half-truth you wanted so badly to be fulfilled. You wished to be the monster everybody claimed the forest to be, to be selfish, hungry, and angry as all the legends said the creatures roaming the woods were.

Rather you were weak and lonely, still fearful of people being disappointed in you.

A handful of full moons went by and passed, and of course, you couldn't meet Viktor in any of them. You were up in a perpetual vigil, sleeping only during the day when the nurses switched schedules with you. So sometimes you had to think that you were imagining things.

Owls stepped in the old, little apple tree in the courtyard of the chapel, their howls sounding almost sad as you walked outside to take in the cold, smoky air inside your lungs pestered with alcohol and the bitter essence of medicine.

How the wind carried flowers toward the center of the village, making the elder confused and the younger terrified as they questioned if it was a good idea to sweep them away.

Probably it was stupid to feel so homesick in a situation as delicate as this one, but as you watched the multicolor petals, your heart squeezed as if someone were caging your heart with a metallic grip.

On one of those nights, you had enough time to walk around the town square, sitting at the edge of a fountain reflecting the full moon on its calm waters.

Without his help cooking your food and insisting you eat it, it was only a matter of time before you grew weak. A human body could only endure a certain number of restless nights and skipping meals before becoming fragile.

Now your vision became dizzy if you stood up too quickly, hands tremble when you bathed the patients in cold water. They probably related the behavior to fear, but you weren’t scared, or at least, not that much.

Flames shaped the shadows around the made-up bonfire monstrously as you watched a bunch of dirty and stained cots become ashes. Death still clouded the walls of the hospice, the empty seats where families slept next to their beloveds, maybe to not see them again the next morning, cushions morphed by the never-ending weight.  

You were blinded by the orange-reddish fire, so the figure approaching startled you when the little kid paused at the other side of the fire, eyes lost on the flames.

His tiny, fragile frame was dressed in a worn-out sweater too big for him, and dirty white pants stained with something that looked like oil compared to his elegant, spotless black shoes.

He wasn’t part of the sick in the clinic, what was he doing in the middle of the night? In curfew?

“Kid?” you muttered, afraid the vigilantes would see him here with you. “Hi, child. May I ask what are you doing here? Are you here with a familiar?”

You didn’t notice the strange stare he gave you until you stood up at the cold limestone fountain, your steps muffled against the crackling of the fire. His eyes were of a plain white color, and thin and chipped lips curved slightly.

“Forest wife,” he said, and his voice didn’t sound like the one of a child at all, even if the sweet, pitched tone was. The world stood still, and your breath hitched irregularly as you tried to stumble away from the fire, away from him, or whatever he was.

It was a scorching hot summer night, but you were sweating cold, with goosebumps covering your arms.

“What do you want?” you finally whispered back, and part of you hated the way it sounded like a plea.

The kid walked around the fire until he was right next to you. From so close, he didn’t look like a kid at all, his face wrinkled and his expression dull—not pouty or dramatic in any way.

“If I can’t make the forest burn, you’ll have to do.” He looked at you, his blonde hair covering part of his brow partially as he produced a knife from beneath him. Your question got caught in your throat as you watched his swift movement, blurring at the edges of your vision as he leaped toward you, steel shining against the ever-changing flames of the firepit.

Your feet staggered backward, the warmth of the burning cot licking your ankle. A hiss escaped your lips as you felt his tiny body tackle you, eerily heavy, knocking the air that panted through your throat.

An electrical wave traveled your body, hot against the cold cobblestone as you hit the floor, the child changing in the form to become a larger figure, a velvet coat embedding its head in the darkness. A couple of meters in the distance, a chorus echoed from within the chapel.

As your mind drifted into a sea of darkness, inky limbs enveloping the otherwise beating pain, you thought vaguely that this was what a sacrifice would be like.

This was how a truly vivid nightmare would be. Nothing more.

You woke up when a nurse yanked your arm up, her brown eyes darkened with a scowl only half-hidden in them.

"It's very unprofessional to skip work to take on a nap," she said, looking at her hands in disgust as the ashes from the death firepit had stained your body. "You better pray no patient died within your shift." And with that, she was walking away.

Your head pounded heavily, fingers touching the sensitive skin in your skull to find it bleeding, thick consistency that denoted that you’d been bleeding for quite a couple of hours, almost stopping now.

The grey fountain edge was tinted with a crimson amorph circle there where your head met the rock before collapsing.

Then you fell asleep and then collapsed during your slumber, but somehow you didn’t notice? Not so unlikely, you thought with resentment at thinking how many weeks you’d been taking vigil at night while trying to sleep in the middle of the hallway during the day, being awake at the slightest movement, the lightest sound.

You started to get delirious.

A couple of hours later, when you slid to take a quick bath in the dwelling of the sexton, you noticed bruises along your wrists there where the child had grasped you.

Bruises that wouldn't disappear no matter how much time had passed.

The townsfolk decided to bring another healer to help you with the patient's load when they noticed your diminishing health, the way your eyes were rimmed with dark, purple circles, and how you'd look in a random direction as if someone were there.

Sadly to say it took them long enough. Approximately three months too late.

The hospice was almost empty now, with the cold and dry wind making your cheeks rosy with the upcoming, early autumn. The trees scattered around the courtyard of the chapel were starting to lose their leaves, scarfs of red and orange starting to diminish the green shades.

You were scrubbing the marble floor, black stains of dry blood that nobody had time enough to clean correctly.

The air was misty with smoke from the burial sites on the outskirts, the townsfolk unsure of burning the lost ones near the forest, preferring to do it along the path carriages and carts used to connect the town with the coastal city. Not that you really cared about it, even if part of you wanted to, telling you it was the correct thing.

You were too tired to pretend you didn’t regret having to come, first to be treated more like a nurse rather than a healer, and then to be settled as a cleaner assistant at best.

That evening, the last patients under your care were transferred to the newly arrived healer, where the doctor and her staff would take care of them better than your physical ability could allow you to. It was the least they could do, they assured you all, as they arrived too late to attend the peak of the epidemic.

Your hands started to shake that night, when you finished cleaning the main room, steps staggering to try to sleep for three days in a row in any corner available.

But you couldn’t sleep, napping between a light sleep and an annoying, tingling sensation running through your muscles as you tried to roll into a comfortable position. Night arrived, and obviously, the governess didn't lift the curfew.

You sat in your cot, springs stabbing your thighs. Your stare felt dizzy, vision flooded with dancing black stains if you turned your vision too quickly. You were so exhausted, and yet your limbs ached when you lay on the bed.

It was around two in the morning when your stomach knotted, and mouth filled with a sour aftertaste. You couldn’t run toward the bathroom staff on time, tinting the cot with the black shade of blood instead.

Fear plunged a free-fall knot in your stomach as you looked at the liquid, thinking you were having another vivid nightmare. Because it couldn’t be something else. Right? Why fall sick just now, when your body had so much time to do that before?

You wandered to the bathroom, filling your mouth with water to clean yourself so many times you were expecting it to clean you from the sickness, too. But you knew how it was pointless, so instead, you returned to your dirty cot, pulling out your bag, the beige fabric now brown from all the dirt of sliding it under furniture to avoid people snatching it.  You checked the insides, tiny bottles of nitre, salt of tartar, and camphor, your handwriting difficult to read inside the dimming room.

You knew the infirmary would have all this, but you weren’t going to stay. Even if you were in your hut, you wouldn't have preferred to travel to a hospice in the town. You knew how that was, looking at death as a doctor, a nurse, or even a patient. Hearing breathings cut forever, presences next to your cot disappearing overnight as the sickness reclaimed them, and you had no choice but to ask yourself if you’ll be next.

You didn’t want that. Thinking about dying here in the town square put an abnormal weight in your stomach that made you want to puke again.

You stumbled over a pile of discharged bedsheets as you tried to wobble your way to the exit. The nurse asked you if you were alright, and you had to avoid her gaze so she couldn’t see the yellow on your scleras.

It was a selfish desire, even a cruel one, as you thought that you were so exhausted of seeing the townsfolk—and the fever was too aggressive and fatal that you didn’t wish to die with them surrounding you. Part of you asked if they would even care if they feared and loathed the forest enough to stay with you in your last moment. If they would at least try to nurse you back to health, or would they just give up?

Who knows if they would tell the forest about your demise, or if they'll just pretend as if nothing happened as if you were the one who had run away from it. You imagined your burial in an arid sideway of the path, so far from where you longed to be.

It was a windy night, but your brow was covered in sweat. From the corner of your blurry vision, you imagined shadows following you from between the buildings, your heart trying to run out of your chest as you imagined another encounter with the creature that supposedly was a child.  

From only imagining his grasp on your weak limbs, your bones grew even more aching, as if every moment made them see between articulations. You stumbled at the upcoming irregular terrain, the cornfields moving with the wind as if they were rag scarecrows, hissing like vigilant beasts.

You looked at your hut in the distance, the lights were on and as you tried to run, you saw a ghostly figure moving around the overgrown grass. Snowy.

The light wasn't on, you knew after another walking a couple of meters. Light flooded from the backyard. Golden light.

The gates were too cold against your boiling skin as you hugged them for support, the metallic sound of the shaking hinges echoing in the woods that were deep-settled in the penumbra. You felt the fever coming in and out in waves, and you thought you’d pass out before finding Viktor.

But then you saw a tall figure next to the peach tree in your backyard, a basket in his hand as he harvested the ripe fruits. Even when his light was off, Snowy barked, striding your way with the forest guardian tailing close behind, almost half-running when you couldn't even open your gate that couldn't be locked if he was inside.

Upon seeing him only a couple of meters away from you, your relief was enough that all forces you had recollected to walk and stand up evaporated. Clinking noises of glass crashing together made you pray for the bottles not to break, you didn't have more medicine, and you couldn't think you'd bear a walk to the town's square in such fragile condition.

“Viktor,” you breathed, your nails digging into the muddy ground as you tried to stand up. He left the basket to fall into the ground as he ran toward you the missing meters, opening the gate in a swift, silent movement. He lifted you in his arms, careful to not smash your bag against his body. “Please help me.”

He cupped your boiling cheek, and even if Viktor was wearing his mask, you could hear the worry in his voice. “Oh, my love, you got sick… Don’t worry,” he said, nudging his mask against your face as if to kiss you. “I'll take care of you," Viktor promised as he gazed at your yellow scleras.

Viktor strides back to his hut, the path clearing after his step. You felt dozens of stares as you peeked at the landscape in front of you, a dread thought of not being able to see it ever again clouding your mind as Viktor’s words escaped your ears.

The first he did when arriving at his hut was prepare a cold bath, filling the deep floor until it almost crossed the threshold separating it from the sink. You were too delirious to care when Viktor told you he had to take your clothes off to soak you in the cold water.

You whimpered when you felt his hands against your bare skin as he gently carried you inside the water, leaving you resting against a rounded edge. Viktor folded your clothes and put them under your head so you could lay as comfortably as possible inside the tub.

Viktor took his mask off, his golden eyes filled with concern as your teeth clattered together. You were so cold it was baffling that you weren’t becoming solid ice.

You looked away from him, a plea forming on your lips to get you out from there and inside his blankets. But he couldn’t, not until your fever got under control.  

While you were shivering in the water, Viktor fed you some sliced peaches from his basket, waiting ten minutes to be sure you wouldn't throw up when he gave you some camphor afterward.

He was taking your hand, your fingers barely responding to his soothing touches as Viktor promised you to come back in five minutes. “I’m going to boil some willow bark for your fever, yes? I won’t be long.” Viktor kissed your forehead, a little relieved it felt less hot than an hour ago. “Stay here with Snowy.”

As he left, Snowy entered the bathroom, his cold presence soothing your pounding head when it lay next to your hand.

You didn't want to die—not like this. Your grandma, Amaya, had also died during an epidemic of malaria in a particularly hot and dense summer. You had been there next to her bed when it happened when her already weak grasp became limp.

You were going to fight. You didn’t wish for Viktor to re-enact the loss of your grandma, but with you instead. Not when your Forest Guardian had lost his beloved ones early in life; not when you were the only one left for him to love.

It was already morning when Viktor take you off the tub. He tried to muffle a groan when he stretched from his hunched sitting position from where he surveilled you all night. He quickly rolled a fluffy towel over your body, one that smelled like his strong coffee and the ashes from the hearth. You felt better, you realized as he laid you on his bed, ignoring that your hair was still wet.

He had made you lemonade and broth with carrots, ginger, wine, and some mushrooms. His hand hovered in front of your mouth, a wooden spoon filled with the liquid mixture as Viktor persuaded you to open your mouth for him.

“I’ll make you some creamed rice if you eat all your broth,” he said, looking at your teary eyes as you forced the food inside your stomach. “You can even pour all the nuts in the cabinet on your portion. I won’t mind.”

You could only eat half the bowl, shaking your head when he offered you more. “Give me the medicine, please. I don’t want to throw it up.”

Your stomach hurt from the medicine, but at least you didn't have a fever anymore. A shallow consolation, because it was normal that patients presented a recovery in a couple of hours, only to fall into a violent relapsing the very next day.

Viktor’s clouded gaze was also thinking about it, in the way he spent the afternoon with you between his arms, soothing you that it was alright to sleep, that you needed to rest.

“But what if I can’t wake up?” you asked, your voice sore as if you’d been screaming all day.

His brows got pinched together in concern, but his hands never stopped soothing your muscles, applying ointment for your pain.

“You’re stubborn enough to not let anything push you into doing things you don’t want to,” Viktor muttered. “I’m here with you, too, to help you.”

You turned your head slightly at him, your cheek over the cold pillow. The remnants of the fever were dragging you toward slumber, but before you closed your eyes, you had to tell him. No matter if you were going to live to see the next sunrise, he had the right to know.

Between your half-closed eyelids, you gazed at his golden eyes, feeling his hands running up and down one of your arms, smelling the eucalypt from the ointment.

“Viktor,” you whispered, so low that you thought he couldn’t have heard it. "I love you." But he did, his smile contrasting with the growing pools of trapped tears.

“I love you, too, my sunflower,” Viktor whispered, kissing your forehead as he cradled your body against his for the rest of the night, hoping to memorize it into his touch forever. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

Viktor had a terrible dream, the one about opening his eyes and finding you gone.

That somehow you passed away silently while you slept, that he didn’t notice that your breathing had stopped, even if the rhythm of your heart had lulled him to sleep before.

It felt hollow and wrong, just like the way your body felt stiff and cold despite the fever conquering your system hours ago. He felt tears pooling down his cheeks as Viktor understood that you’d never see him again, that he’d never get to see your eyes twinkling with the sunlight, with the golden light of his armor—not anymore.

It had only been a dream, and yet, the sudden loss was too much for Viktor to bear. As if someone had punched him in the stomach, stealing all the air from reaching his lungs.

Before you, he'd been all alone in the forest, talking to his dogs, to the animals, and mostly, to the trees. But even so, their company wasn't enough, the forest knew. They couldn't hug him and soothe him with gentle words, they couldn't cradle him and kiss him good morning.

Viktor wished to have not just a companion, but a friend. A lover, maybe. If you wish so if you'd take him. If you’d do it, he will promise to never let go.

He wanted to wake you up with soft caresses over your face until he heard your giggles, soft hands pulling you close to silently ask him to kiss you. To surprise you with bright bouquets, showing you the kind of life the forest could bloom all year around. Viktor wished to bathe you like he did last night, putting aromatic flowers and creamy soap bubbles along your skin, to slide into the tub with you, if so you wanted.

Imagining a life without you helping him collect the harvest of his garden was like draining the forest of all colors, to stripe it from life and letting it remain like a mere carcass. Viktor wanted to learn how you knitted the reeds to make baskets where you put all the food collected for dinner.

Even if you still lived at your hut most of the time, he’d love to send in birds to sing when you were doing the laundry, knowing that you adore feeding them with the dry seeds you left unattended on the windowsill. Perhaps one day the forest would trust you enough so the deer would come to eat the apples from your hand, too. He would love to see that.

He would love just to be with you—as simple and absolute as that.

You shifted at his side, your cheeks growing red with fever again.

Upon seeing this, Viktor's heart squeezed hurtfully. Part of him knew that the treatment wouldn’t work, not when you were so weak.

Delirious or not, you probably felt the fever as the slumber was being washed away with each blink. “Viktor…” you started.

He leaned in to kiss the top of your head, taking in a huff of the essence of your hair. He wished to tell you that you’d be alright, that you’d recover, but he didn’t want to lie to you, to a healer that surely had seen this same development dozens of times.

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” you sniffled, voice breaking. Your hands slowly tangled on his chest, filled with the fabric of his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

He put his chin atop your head. “If don’t wish to leave, we’ll find a way to keep you here.” Viktor looked at you, your familiar features. One of his thumbs grazed your cheek, finding it warmer than it was supposed to be. “I promise we’ll find a way.”

You nodded, Viktor carefully wiping your tears away. “Let’s prepare a bath, then.”

As he gently squeezed the sponge on your shoulders, the answers came in the form of the whistling the canopy made with the upcoming cold wind. Viktor had almost died in this forest before, and he was saved by it.

He had never thought about the deal as unfair, for the woods made him wield the forest's power in exchange for him taking care of it. You were a little bit like him, now. Even if you only were in the forest’s heart one week every month, you were the one who watched its outskirts.

And now you even had the forest’s guardian heart.

Viktor wouldn’t lose anything if he tried—no more than he could actually lose if he didn’t try. So he nudged your cheek softly, your weak gaze looking up at him.

“My love,” he muttered, and you tried to smile despite your evident exhaustion. “I think I know what we have to do.”

You blinked, waiting.

Suddenly, Viktor couldn’t find the right words, his mind going blank as your attentive stare. The morning light surely couldn’t hide his blushing. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it would go.

In a utopic world, his confession would’ve been much more romantic, but time pressed. He could do it again later when you were out of risk.

“I think… I—, eh, I think the woods can save you… like… like it did with me. Do you remember?” There was a pause, but you nodded slightly. Your eyes started to brighten, but it could be all in Viktor’s imagination. “But, well, you’d have to be like me… to stay with me, probably.”

He felt his cheeks on fire, and if he were still a mortal, he would’ve gotten worried about catching a fever, too.

What are you doing? He thought, fidgeting with the loose threads of the towel over your brow. What kind of confession is that?

“I—I don’t want you to think that I wouldn’t like you to stay permanently here with me, but… But I understand that you've lived your life quite a different way. A-and that we haven't talked about it yet.” His hands were trembling, so Viktor steadied them grasping the tub’s edge. “I’m asking you if you want to do this. If you want to stay here with me, like this,” he said, signaling to himself. Not truly human anymore.

For a moment, his brain skipped to the worst conclusions, where you considered his existence as a monstrosity—like many did before—and a part of him thought that he wouldn’t blame you.

“I want to stay," you whispered, your voice hoarse. “To be with you.” You tried to smile, to reassure him; your chipped lips were thin and pale. But for him, it was the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. "Truly. I love you, Viktor. I really do."

“Thank you, my sunflower.” Viktor kissed your brow, still hot. “Drink your lemonade, my love. I’ll be right back.” He opened the bathroom door, calling in Snowy to keep you company, his presence hovering on the threshold. “I promise you, everything will be alright. Do you trust me?”

The tile was cold against your throbbing head. “Of course I do.”

Viktor then went out of the cottage and inside the forest's heart, where the trees stood so close to each other that the canopy absorbed all light. There, where the sound would echo like in a chamber, as he sat against a tree bark with tint on its wood from the ancient times when people would give offerings to this forest.

In the stillness of its heart, where time froze, he went and asked for help for the second time, hoping it would pay him any mind.

The moment Viktor stepped in the clearing, your fuzzy mind started pulsating with energy, your eyes darting between the old trees so thick you couldn’t hug the complete width of their trunks with your arms, their roots half exposed as fingers dipped in the still pond located in the middle of it all, like a mirror of the cloudless sky.

It was too still. No wind moving the treetops, no animals lurking between the bushes, and yet, you felt something watching you. The clearing was too bright, speckles of gold moving in the air, tiny firelights, in both yellow and blue; contrasted with the black floor made of soft dirt, green luminescence of tiny plants poking in between.

Viktor’s steps were muffled when he laid you against a cocoon of tree trunks, their roots forming an amorph nest. “I’m going to put you in that spot with the blanket, yes? I’ll be a little bit… uncomfortable,” he muttered, his nose snuggling against your hair.

He kneeled next to you, producing a tiny pebble from one of his pockets. Taking one of your hands, he put it on your palm.

It may have been the fever, but you felt the tiny thing beat against your skin, feeling much heavier than it was supposed to be.

“You have to plant it, my love. I'll help you dig." Right next to the nest-like root formation, Viktor buried his hands in the dirt, and you help him with your free hand, enjoying the soft consistency of the soil, smelling as if it were about to rain any minute from now.

The pebble looked like it was carved in black marble, with tiny waves and cracks of white and gray on the polished surface. You clenched it on your fist with the strength that remained in your arm, bathing in your warmth, letting it soothe you in its coldness.

Your fingers carefully laid it in the bottom of the hole, hearing the muffled sound of its fall. Diligently, you are covered in soil, patting the surface to smooth it out.

Viktor took your hand, not minding that your fingers were covered in black dirt. His gaze was deep and solemn, and the words were spoken softly. "Are you… are you sure about this, my love? I'm afraid this can't be undone."

You squeezed his hand. “I am,” you whispered, trying to conceal the stuttered tone of your teeth clattering. “I want this.” I want to be with you, your eyes tried to convey.

You smiled as his thumb grazed your cheek. His hands took a knife out of his pocket, the silver blade shining. It looked old, the wooden handle worn out with the curves of his fingers carving the material.  

“May I?” he said, and you felt the weight of it against the palm of your hand.

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek when the cold bite of the knife became a hot throbbing pain.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry, my love,” Viktor shushed you, your eyes bright with tears that started to pool down your cheeks. “You’re doing it perfectly.” His grasp was gentle, fingers around your wrist to guide your dripping hand over to where the pebble was buried. He enveloped your fist in his, locking eyes with you. “Now press it,” he said, his chin pointed at your bleeding hand.

You whimpered, lines of crimson liquid disappearing into the earth. The was frozen inside the forest's heart, and you could only hear your forced breath as you commanded the pain to go away, to the fever to diminish. As you pleaded silently to the forest to accept you.

Viktor brushed the tears away your fuzzy view, letting you see the blooming red flower growing from the soil, its center black as it gazed toward you.

He chuckled, kissing the top of your forehead before standing up, and getting near the pond where he went to fill a bowl with water from the pond, the liquid felt cold down your throat, the mint extract Viktor had poured leaving a sweet aftertaste. You exhaled, the cold creeping in through your veins, making you feel limp, your hands falling from Viktor's touch.

The tree bark against your back was the only thing grounding you, sensing yourself getting to the edge of slumber. But you didn't wish to sleep, you knew you wouldn't come back if you did.

You saw into Viktor's eyes, trying to form his name on your lips.

“It’s alright,” he muttered, his hands stroking your hair as you fell against the trunks and roots, sensing them shift underneath. “Close your eyes. I’ll be here with you. I love you, sunflower.”

Would you be there, though?

Everything was very cold and humid, the blanket growing heavier when you tried to steady your breathing, heartbeat amplified madly in your ears. A sudden fear took control of your body when you were back in that clearing with the lumberjacks, looking at one being swallowed by the woods.

Now, it was your turn.

Viktor let go of your hand, his voice lulling you, the only remnant of his presence, the cadence slowly growing far and far away, until it was difficult to breathe, to conjure an image even inside your mind as earth plunged you deeper and deeper on its core.

You wanted to scream, limbs tangled in roots, chest covered in dirt. Along the fall, you started to hear a heartbeat, growing louder as the pressure augmented. A part of you thought you wouldn’t be able to bear it, that you’d die. That this was your grave. Your fingers twitched trying to thrash toward the surface, toward Viktor and the light.

But part of you knew that if you’d follow that path, you’d end up dead. Down here, you felt your body getting colder, the delirium of fever washing away, substituted by the heartbeat that then divided into a million more, all of them connected to the woods, to all the life it bears.

You took in a tiny breath, smelling the fragrance of humid soil, remembering all the times you’ve been taking in deep huffs of the aroma in your hut, gazing from the kitchen’s window to the cloudy evening sky until the first drops of rain started knocking on your roof. You remembered the deluge, where the air got so thick in that essence that the town became a swamp—but there, inside the forest, it was alright.

Inside the woods, you'd be alright, as you had always been.

You left out all your air, focusing on your heartbeat that echoed inside your ears, letting it relax until it matched the forest’s, until it encompassed Viktor’s, too.

Until you become part of it—understanding that this was no grave, but rather, a cocoon that brought in new life.

There, the sun still filtered through the thick canopy. The white light of the early morning awakened you, leaving red dots every time you blinked.

You were covered in a blanket whose ends were stained suspiciously with dirt, just like the ends of your fingers, as if you had dug yourself out of the earth’s core.

Part of you was expecting the ritual to fail, to regain consciousness as feel the sore pain of your bones again, your brow boiling. But you found yourself looking, smelling, and sensing the trees around you, discovering new shades of green between the leaves, hearing their whispers as the breeze moved their branches. Calling you.

You felt their gazes and the animals peeking inside the clearing. Curious and welcoming. The red flower was gone, in its place laid Viktor, his figure curled toward you, still asleep.

You rolled away from the blanket, carefully putting it on top of him as you walked toward the bigger tree of them all, a willow tree. Its bark beat along your heart when you pressed your brow against it.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice getting slightly broken with overcoming emotions. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Viktor called your name, his voice echoing in the place that felt more alive than last night. You turned around, looking at him with his disheveled hair, eyes squinting to get used to the bright sunlight. From deep within your chest bubble out a laugh, your feet running toward him to collapse into his lap, hands around his neck as you cried, thinking how impossible it felt you could be between his arms.

Viktor holds you close against his chest, his laugh between a chuckle and a sob. "You came back," he said, voice muffled against your hair. “You came back.”

"I missed you so much," you said because it was time to say everything, even if time didn't matter anymore. "I love you, Viktor. So much that I was terrified of leaving and not being able to tell you that every day for the rest of my life.”

His eyes shone like stars. “Now we have many days ahead of us,” he muttered, cheeks tinted a shy red. “If you’d have me.”

“I wouldn’t like nothing more.”

Viktor laughed, leaning in to kiss you, a soft caress of your lips as if he were too scared that you disappeared into smoke. But your touch was real, the brush of your hair against his cheeks, the weight of your hands over his shoulders.

“We can go home now, my love,” he said, helping you to stand up. “Let’s go.”

Viktor filled a bag with shampoo and soap when he was done cleaning the bathroom from the usage last night.

He walked to where your figure was huddled on the couch, a bowl filled with boiled oatmeal clanking as you happily dug the spoon into it. You had crumbs of sticky honey along your lips when you looked up at him.

“What?” you said, mumbling before filling your mouth with another spoonful of oatmeal boiled with honey and sprinkled with dry berries.

"You're so beautiful," Viktor answered, leaning in to take in a peck from your lips, tasting sour and sweet of the breakfast.

You were feeling healthy ever since you returned home, the energy blooming around you as you smiled at him, cheeks starting to feel hot with shyness.

“Do you want to me help you draw a bath?” you said because he had emerged from the bathroom dry and with the same clothes he wore yesterday.

He brushed your hair between his fingers, relishing in the soft texture of it. “No. I’d prefer you to take the bath first.” Viktor pretended to scrunch his nose.

You pouted. “Why? Am I stinky?”

“Eh—, maybe just a little.”

You pretended to look offended, eyes widening as one hand rested over your collarbone. “Later don’t ask why you aren’t getting any kisses.”

He chuckled. “Is that so? Then I’ll suppose I have to earn my wife’s kisses back.”

Your fingers fidgeted with the fabric of one of the cushions. “And… may I ask how you plan to do that?”

Viktor shrugged, noncommittally. “It’s a surprise.” He sat while you ate the rest of your breakfast, stealing bites from your sliced apple when he thought you weren’t looking.

But then you mysteriously left the last slice, taking it between your fingers as you put it against his lips.

“Here, open your mouth. Thank you for taking care of me.” Your fingers were sticky from the apple you were eating when he went to kiss your cheek, but he didn't mind when you cradled his face. The sun made your hair shine, and rounded cheeks when you smiled at him with a tender gaze. “I think you may deserve many kisses for that, even if you think I’m a little stinky.”

He smiled, tears starting to accumulate in his eyes. Viktor would always be grateful for the forest for letting you stay here with him, and he was even more grateful that you ended up loving him, just as much as he loved you. "Let me bathe you today, my love," he found himself whispering. "Please."

Viktor felt the warmth emanating from your flushed face. "So what's the surprise?"

“You’re thinking dirty of me again, don’t you, pretty sunflower?” he muttered, hovering close.

“M-maybe,” you muttered sheepishly. "And what with that? We're a couple now anyway." Officially since last night, which was a very brief window of time, you felt your belly fluttering in excitement, even if another part of you was still nervous. But he had taken your clothes off before, soaking you in freezing water to alleviate your fever, so it wouldn't be that different, right? “It’ll have to happen someday.”

“And would you like it to happen today, hmm?”

You couldn’t dare to look him in the eye. “Yes.”

“Then I shouldn’t keep you waiting,” he said, putting your empty bowl on the floor as he carried you between his arms, his strides crossing the kitchen toward the backyard, and ever further from there.

Viktor took you to where the running river thinned to a stream, crystal water gurgling gently, showing round rocks on the riverbed. It was a clearing with young floral trees circling the terrain their barks a greenish-brown color, a blanket of pink and violet as he let you sit at the edge of the ground, your bare feet feeling fresh water and the soft surface of the beneath.

He helped you untangle your hair, his fingers massaging the scalp, some loose locks brushing the sensitive skin of your neck, which arose goosebumps all over your skin when you imagined Viktor’s touch right there.

His hand hovered over your shoulders, fingers brushing the neckline of your blouse. A silent question in his eyes.

You nodded, feeling your cheeks growing hot. Viktor took off your clothes, taking its time to unbutton your blouse and folding it neatly, unfastening the laces of your pants.

You held your breath, Viktor’s fingers tracing the outlines of your body just like he did while giving you a cold sponge bath last night, the same gently up-and-down movement that made you close your eyes, a sigh escaping your lips when you were naked under his loving gaze. The soft, hot breeze of summer caressing you as if commanded by him.

“You’re so beautiful,” he uttered, a flush tinting his cheeks and down his neck. Sudden shyness and excitement mixed in his golden eyes as they scanned your skin, taking in every curve and angle to carve it in his memory.

You stumbled next to him, your shoulders clashing together as you leaned in closer until your lips were hovering just above his, your nipples brushing enticingly with the soft fabric of his shirt when you started to turn around. “Kiss me.”

He cupped your cheek. “How could I ever say no to you,” Viktor muttered back, his hand sliding to cradling the nape of your neck, fingers gently tilting your head backward to deepen the kiss as soon as he felt the brush of your lips against his. Avid teeth nibbled your bottom lip to urge them to open so his tongue could taste you properly.

Your hands found themselves tied around his shoulders, steadying you when you sat straddling him over, knees on the soft mossy ground as you ground your naked little cunt against the rough fabric of his pants.

“Please,” you whimpered, his eyelashes brushing your cheekbones when you were about to kiss him again. “Touch me.”

Viktor hummed, trying to pretend he was considering the chance of not. His hand traveled from his grasp of the curve of your hip down to your navel, quickly finding the hot and wet spot between your folds that was aching for the friction of his fingers.

“Oh, you’re so, so beautiful, my love. My sweet flower.” He praised, sticking one finger in and out of you, relishing the sensation of your walls clenching in around him, the whimpers he made break free from your bitten lips becoming one of the things Viktor never wanted to stop from hearing. “Am I doing it correctly? I’m—I’m afraid I haven’t done this in… eh, in a long time.”

You smiled softly. “Please don’t stop.” You held onto him when your legs buckled, feeling the inevitable collapse of your force when Viktor slid two fingers inside, his pacing kept tight, fingers curling inside of you to reach that deep spot within when you rode his hand, natural synchrony.

Your head rested in the curve of his shoulder, your pants moving the locks of his hair, making his arms get covered in goosebumps at feeling your warm breath against his ear. Viktor turned to kiss your jaw and cheek in chastity pecks, the seeming innocent gesture polarizing with his words.

“You’re going so well, pretty sunflower.”

You whimpered his name right against his neck, the air growing scarce inside your lungs. Your mind got adrift, feeling a knot uncurl slowly on your lower belly, pooling heat down and down, there where Viktor was working devotedly. You felt your body trembling like a leaf against the autumn winds, but Viktor’s hand steadied you just alright, fingers white for the pressure against your hip.

While tracing a path of soft kisses down your neck, Viktor started massaging your clit with his thumb. Slow circles that suddenly changed pressure or direction only to make you moan, with him trying to discover all the kinds of noises he could get out of your beautiful lips.

At the back of his mind was his purpose of bathing you—first, Viktor wanted to fulfill your wish. Or part of it. He’ll have more time to do it properly after your bath.

His fingers settled in a quick, deep pace. Viktor was curling his fingers while his lips were nibbling your earlobe, showering you with praises that you weren’t listening to over your frantic breaths and sudden moans.

Teeth grazed your neck, traveling to your collarbones and then down your chest, your back quickly arching to give him more access. You started to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging his head closer and closer.

The sun played with the canopy, showing a mosaic of light and shadows that reflected on your skin. Golden rays moved along your skin as you moved, unveiling the secret shadows of your hair and the contrast of your eyes against your fluttering eyelashes as you tried to focus your eyes on him.

Viktor took you in then, thinking that the one who looked utterly otherworldly was you; with your intense gaze of curious eyes now clouded with desire, the way you bit your bottom lip as if to muffle your cries, only for him to fall into the memory of your soft kisses and lean in to kiss you again, thinking they looked plump as a blooming flower whose nectar could only be consumed by him.

It was the forest the one who created magic, but Viktor couldn’t pretend there wasn’t something just as mystical about you, about the way you made him feel. He was lucky enough to have you in his arms and his life, so he was going to thank you like the goddess he was convinced you were.

He quicken the pace, looking up attentively to your expressions as you started to enter the brink of pleasure.

“V-Viktor…,” you cried, one of his hands against the solid ground when you leaned your whole weight onto him. He felt you clench around him, a squelchy sound coming from your folds where you were dripping your sweet essence down his hand.

“It’s alright, my dear,” he cooed. “Let me please you.” Viktor kissed one of your hard nipples, thinking that it was like the adorable button of a flower as he put it inside his mouth.

You stiffened, an electrical wave flowing from your chest down your stomach and in between your legs. You bit your lips, tasting the copper aftertaste of blood, a half-cry calling him when you started to tremble without control, reaching your climax between his arms.

You collapsed, panting. Your thighs hugged his torso when you curled your body around him, heavy eyelids trying to look into him, to discover what he was thinking.

Viktor smiled, his hands cradling your body on his lap as he leaned to kiss your sweaty forehead, pulling some rebel locks away from your eyes.

The pad of his thumb was wet from your cum when he dried to incipient blood from your lips. You parted them, taking in his thumb and licking it as Viktor gasped, eyes widening.

“I should bath you first, my love,” he said, carrying your body over to the water. You plopped inside, half sitting and half floating as Viktor took a wooden bowl to rinse your hair. Finger massaging your scalp when he poured some shampoo over your head. “After all, that’s why I brought you here.”

“Oh? I thought it was for the romantic scenery.” You were playing with the current, putting your fingers through it to feel the gentle tug of the water.

“Good to know it got you inspired.” Viktor conveniently forgot the sponge, so he used his hands instead, asking you to give him your arm. Fingers covered in soap rubbed your skin in gentle circles, you could smell the essence of lavender and roses when he massaged your shoulders.

Then, you dipped your head into the water to wash it off.

With your skin under the sun, you were surprised to discover that the bruises inflicted on you by that strange entity were gone, Viktor’s right hand glowing with brown and green tones like nerves thread in each movement, golden sparks running across the surface from time to time.

Viktor took his clothes off, leaving only his underwear as he got inside the stream, his chest brushing your back as he sat right against you. “Now turn around and give me one leg.”

You bit your lip at feeling his hand around your ankle, soapy fingers traveling up your thigh. Your core was still throbbing from your past orgasm, and you noticed the way he eyed your cunt, pulling your leg to open more than it was necessary.

The water didn’t help to conceal the bulge between his legs, and you felt your core start to get hot again.

You straddled him again when he finished cleaning your legs and started to massage your stomach. Your body squirmed, a laugh bubbling out your lips. You tried to catch his hands, but they were slippery, and Viktor was clearly enjoying himself.  

“So pleased to discover my sweetbriar is ticklish,” he said, snuggling his nose against the top of your hair. Your legs got locked against his back, and you felt him hard and big under the soaked fabric of his underwear. It started to get harder to talk. "I’m so glad to have you here with me. Thank you, my love.”

You squeezed him between your thighs, kissing the corners of his lips. "I've never regretted something so much as to imagine have wasted all my time with you without ever telling you how I felt—how I feel."

Viktor smiled, stealing a peck from you when you hovered close. “Now there’s nothing to regret. We have all the time in our hands, and I’m going to make sure to use it wisely.”

You arched one eyebrow, a cheeky smile starting to expand on your lips. "Well, that's an interesting promise."

“If you don’t believe, allow me to prove myself.” Viktor positioned himself between your legs, sitting against the riverbed, his eyes locked into yours, asking silently if he should continue.

Your hand went from stroking his hair to dipping in the water, palping his twitching cock, fingers curling in the hem to free him from the cloth “Please go ahead,” you finally said, feeling your cheeks growing hot by your boldness.

Viktor had his eyes wide open, a flush traveling from his cheeks down his neck. “M-my… my love is so eager.” His hands ran the curves of your waist down your hips and around your thighs. “I think it’ll be better if you ride me this first time. While you get used to me.”

You were holding him in your hand, fingers running up his tip and down his shaft, enjoying the sensation of his soft skin around the fresh water, looking at how the movement made it tricky to guide you solely by your vision, instead choosing your touch to explore such sensible spot of his body. And your hands told you he was big—not that you were annoyed by it.

Your hand started to pump him at a slow pace, only to sense him around you, the way Viktor buckled his hips against your hand, eyes half-closed when his lips parted to elicit groans from time to time. A sense of pride overcome you, that he was enjoying something as banal as your touch.

You nodded, thanking silently that the water made it much easier to hold your weight in your legs. Squatting, you felt his tip brushing your entrance, heat pooling, almost dripping from between your legs at imagining his size inside of you.

Viktor hissed when you started to slide his cock inside of you, inch by inch, the initial pain passing when Viktor held you in place as you opened to him, walls wet and tight throbbing around him so enticingly that he thought he wouldn’t last too long, even if he wanted to.

He cradled you, one hand on your lower back, the other on your hip the moment you had taken him all. Staying still, resting your brow against him to recollect some strength and start riding him.

“Are you ready?” you told him, more like it was meant for yourself.

He smiled. “Yes, my love. I am.” Viktor kissed the tip of your nose. “Please try to relax. There’s no way you could love me wrongly.”

A sheepish smile bloomed on your lips, the movement of your hips growing in ripples around the water, your hands around Viktor’s shoulders, loving the way the sun made his skin shine, dotted with moles you’d love to kiss on another occasion when they weren't underwater.

It was a strange sensation, having him conjoined in you like this, with your heels pressed against his back, nails digging at the skin of his shoulders. You felt him filling you, the sweet friction of his cock thrusting your sensible, aching core.

Viktor’s wet hair pocked your collarbones as his head moved up and down, gently nibbling at your nipples, the little, happy sounds getting out of his mouth made you blush, golden eyes scanning the contents of your heart as he looked up at you.

“I love you,” he said, feeling your pace growing irregular, your body plopping down his lap as your legs started shaking. “So, so, so, so much.” Kissing your neck every time he enounced a ‘so’. They were so many, Viktor repeating them until he became breathless, beads of sweat shining on his forehead.

By that time, you were already clung onto his neck, your breath against his ear. You were supposed to feel numb because at least you wouldn't mind your legs anymore. You had your body pressed on his chest, the simple way your hips could keep buckling. The sudden loss of the weight of your lap on top of him allowed Viktor to help you meet your thrusts midway.

You felt him getting deeper, the pacing becoming harder, and irregular, just as your both euphoric pants. Viktor tensed, his breathing caught in his throat. He was going to finish already, but he didn’t wish to. Not when you weren’t ready just yet.

“It’s alright,” you soothed him, stroking his hair. “Please cum for me, yes, my love?”

Well, Viktor had told you that was impossible to say no to you, so there was no way he was going to refuse.

He grasped your waist, and you felt a strange mix of desire and pain where you were sure his finger would get printed on your skin the next day—but he'll probably kiss them and apply some ointment if they hurt you.

His cock twitched inside of you, and you clenched him dearly, a soft whimper escaping your mouth when you felt him spilling inside of you. You thrusted one, two times; Viktor found your clit and rubbed it as his orgasm started to fade.

You weren’t so far, so it only took a couple of messy circles around your sensible bud for you to scream his name, nails scratching his back just as aggressively as his clasping hands.

The water was fresh enough to calm the hotness of your skin, so Viktor embraced you, still buried inside of you, for what seemed to be a tiny eternity. Feeling the current brushing by, the branches moved by the breeze.

This would be your life from now on, sensing the animals wandering nearby, sensing the forest’s call, its roots expanding across the ground and up into the sky with emerald foliage. With Viktor's gentle, loving gaze following at every step, fingers interlocked as you walked through the forest, the ghostly dogs following behind.

You knew that not even the forest could promise you a perpetual bubble of happiness, but as long as you were determined to take care of each other as you were doing, you’ll be fine.

“Thank you for coming back to me, my love,” Viktor said, his strength regained. His lips felt soft, a sigh escaping his lips as he kissed your forehead. “Thank you for your love.”

You snuggled against his chest, relishing in the steady rhythm of his heart; the one you felt you were going to be falling asleep listening to every night.

You were happy.

A blizzard had arrived in town, a thick layer of fluffy snow covering every inch possible of ground, even around the hut, making the crunch of your steps as you waddle from side to side in the cobblestone path, the path painted a navy blue with grey undertones from where the moon shone between clouds.

The wind howled among the buildings, moving your hair. If you weren’t wearing the wooden mask, you knew your cheeks would’ve been flushed from the cold.

Your mind couldn’t stop from comparing the creaking walls of the hut against the limestone ones in town, the newly installed blubs shining with golden hues outside despite being dimmed by the curtains. Odd, clean patches between so many abandoned houses with broken windows and dark insides.

So much time had passed since the ritual, and the feeling of overlooking the graveyard as you walked through town was strange—now you've become a tale, just like Viktor, just like the forest on itself. Death wasn't something you were afraid of, for all the ones you loved now would stay for as long as the woods remained.

Your hut was gone, completely swallowed by the forest. Ruins as the rock walls peeked from between the overgrown grass, trees, and flowers blooming there where the dry seeds were placed before you abandoned the house altogether to live within the forest's heart.

Viktor didn’t like to walk inside the town, even if the townsfolk that remained were well warned about the tales. But you still surveyed it, paying attention to their crops to stop them from catching plagues, or to redirect lost children that from time to time still sleepwalked inside the forest.

You were looking for a kid, one with white eyes and a knife hidden on his back. For the spirit, you learned, the one luring the kids into the forest and leaving dark offerings with them. You did it from time to time, with no schedule. But with no luck; all the children you saw were looking sheepishly at your dark silhouette roaming the streets.

The sound of your metallic heels is a well-known telltale of your presence in the legends that people started to whisper about the forest wife, the woman that disappeared from the hospice one night, only leaving a trace of her dry blood behind.

They believed you were a ghost—just like Snowy and the other dogs of the pack. That you were haunting town punishing people who disrespected the woods, that you were keeping an eye on the town’s children. In reality, you wanted to look for the kid again, the marks in your arms long gone, but with the sensation of the pressure remaining yet still just the same way his words did. For you didn't burn, either the forest, so he may come back to try his luck again.

But today was like any other night, empty streets, echoing footsteps muffled by the irregular path up the crops and into the overgrown forest. Your lamp shone from behind your shoulder like a reflection of Viktor's third arm.

Your slightly orangish hue met his golden one among the tree trunks. You walked toward it, taking your mask off.

“This round was faster than usual,” he said, his gloved hand extended sheepishly toward you, pinkies interlocked. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded, Snowy and the rest of the dogs walking in a zigzag between the two pairs of legs as you strolled back to the cottage. "It's cold out there."

You couldn’t see his face behind the mask, but his tone echoed with the happy undertone of a smile. “Oh, don’t worry, my love. I’ve planned something to keep you warm.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, your hand sliding to interlace all your fingers with his. “I’m sure you have. It’s one of your favorite activities, isn’t it?”

Viktor almost stumbled over a rock, steps tutting as he crossed the river behind you. "You have such a naughty mind, sunflower." His hair moved when he shook his head, clicking his tongue. "I was barely thinking about making hot chocolate and reading by the fire." He shrugged. "But I suppose I should better follow my wife's wishes."

“What a devote husband you are.” When you crossed the muddy rocks, Viktor stood in front of you. His eyes shone playful and mischievous against the lamps, and you couldn’t from feeling your cheeks suddenly getting hot against the cold slippering between the trees. “What?”

He slipped his mask above his brow, leaning in closer until his breath moved your messy hair. “I consider that you would be a very devote wife if you’d kissed your husband right now.”

You copied his past shrug. “Sorry. As the naughty one, I think you should wait until we’re at home.” Viktor’s eyes widened, and you giggled, tiptoeing to kiss the outline of his jaw instead.

He enveloped you, his hands quickly carrying you in his arms as he strode across the forest. You laughed, taking his mask in your lap to pepper his face in kisses as the tiny lights of the candles on the windowsill grow in intensity—just like your signs of affection, your hands buried between his hair as you kissed him fully, his steps stumbling in the uneven terrain.

“I love you so much, my beautiful flower,” he whispered between kisses, his cheeks all red. “I’ll show it to you tonight.”

You felt your stomach starting to pool in warmth, like the hearth in the living room, as Viktor gently laid you on the couch, your body pressed against his.

"You'd already proved it," you said, smiling when his hair tickled your cheeks and forehead. "But I look forward to your demonstration."

Viktor smiled, his eyes diverting down to your lips. “Then we shall start right away,” he muttered, closing the distance between you two.

[fluffyprettykitty]

alteration

Pairing: Jack Russell x female reader (no other specifications!)

Word Count: ~1000 words

Outline: He was your patient yet you were willing to become his whore.

Warnings: dark themes, dub/con, swearing, praise kink, biting, size kink, derogatory names, rough play, facefucking, breast play, sub!reader.

Author's Note: Reader works in the medical field, could be a doctor or a nurse whatever you want. It's dubious consent, with Jack having started to transform.

PS: dividers by @firefly-graphics ​//​ banners by @maysdigitalarts

Main Masterlist ・❥・ Jack Russell Masterlist

He growls.

The room feels smaller than what you remember yet bigger than you want it to be. You want him to feel closer to you.

Jack tilts his head, a bone-cracking, his eyes narrowing.

Sucks in a breath and lunges himself at you. His kind eyes had longed turned silver and his aura had longed gotten heavier. His grip is tight on you. Placing his hands on your body, feeling and groping your body part, however, he needs to. Hands sneak in underneath your scrubs, tasting the bare skin as his teeth are lunged at your neck.

He is forcibly marking you, leaving his teeth trail there for whenever he might need you again. Making you his own, his own brand of whore. He needs you to become his, to wear his mark, for others to know that now you are part of his, his harem.

He sucks your skin so deliciously that it almost makes you forget that you are not supposed to like this. Guilt overwhelms you as his hand gropes your breast, squeezing it while your eyes shut. Maybe if you can't see him, he is not the one doing this to you. You want to breathe him in, you want him to devour you and have you and it stings your heart to know you shouldn't be feeling this way.

"Jack..."

You try to mumble, to push him away but he only growls in response clearly angry and his lips crush yours in a way that makes you shut up. His tongue is battling for dominance inside your mouth as both of his hands are holding your breasts, tearing the fabric down. He is kneading you like his dough, preparing you for your meal. Oh, you wouldn't be able to handle him if you weren't dripping wet and he knew that very well.

"Y/N. My Y/N."

He whispers your name in a way that makes your gut shutter, his voice sounding deeper than you'd ever hear it. Half man and half beast as he is right now, the sound of your name on his lips echoes deep inside his heart making his desire grow stronger. He is going to have you, feel your every nerve and have you forget any one else.

"My beautiful, beautiful Y/N."

He presses a hand on your neck pining you still as his other hand tears the rest of your scrubs in search of your cunt. Your throbbing wet aching cunt.

"I could smell you for hours. Your cunt is so desperate to be touched, she was practically singing to me long before the moon changed. Haven't got anyone to fuck that pretty little thing huh?"

He chuckles, you know he does because he wants you to feel that shame, that urgency, that desperation. He is going to take you anyway but he wants you to beg first. It's not like you have a choice.

"Sitting in your room all alone, your pussy throbbing at the thought of anyone, perhaps someone like that sticking their big fat cock inside you and taking you any way they wanted?"

His grip on your neck is tight, barely allowing you to breathe but the way your pussy now visible to him, responds for you, clearly having a pulse just for him.

"Oh look at her." He smirks looking at you and then down at you. "She's begging. Would be rude not to stuff her. I am a gentleman after all. Do you think that pretty little thing could handle something big?"

His free hand is now caressing your pussy lips tenderly, teasing the skin, watching your juices grow and flow down your thighs. He begins to tease you, stroking you so softly while he's practically choking you which has your mind gets hazy and desperate to be filled.

You try to mumble something, push your lips together to make a sound but before you can even focus on catching your breath when his hand frees your throat, you watch him as he pushes the zipper down of his pants, freeing the biggest cock you could ever see. Where was he hiding this?

Leaking and standing in attention he studies you as your eyes grow wider at the sight, practically salivating for it. You shouldn't want him, not like this, but you'd fall down to your knees, crawl to him, just to have a taste.

And so you do, your body thinking ahead of you, dropping down to your knees, semi-naked, your clothes torn, reaching for his cock. That image jumped up straight from your most forbidden dreams.

"Good girl."

He smiles as you touch his cock, feeling it between your hands before darting your tongue out. You'd want to take your time, feel him down your throat but he doesn't let you. He pushes your head away and grips your chin.

"Beg."

He commands you and it works like a charm on you. You want to follow each and every one of his orders, anywhere he goes, you'd follow. He slowly strokes your chin with his thumb, his cock close to your face, leaking and throbbing.

"Please." You whisper. "Please, let me have your cock, I will take good care of it, I will clean it dry."

"Louder. Could barely hear you."

"Please, please, let me have your cock."

"Too damn quiet. I want the whole building to know you want my cock."

He is clearly not satisfied, he is shaking his head negatively but you have no time to react as he keeps your head still, forcing his cock inside your mouth and you can't help but gag at the sudden movement, trying your best to accommodate him.

"Now you look like my whore."

And by the end of your shift, you'd get fucked any way like one as well.

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