#like what did he offer his brother in return what did the bargaining looked like xD

[angryducktimemachine]

A brotherly visit.

[ID: a digital drawing of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft is sitting in an armchair with a large cat asleep in his lap. Sherlock is pacing in circles around him, talking. /end ID]

[koolades-world]

hiii!! congrats on 2k!!!

can i req nr.7 and nr.17 with mammon(both directed at him) please? i think it'd be really cute <33

thank you! i will gladly write this :)

i might make some headcanons about the whole laundry day concept thing, like what it would be like to share a laundry day and washing machine with them! i really ran with it without intending to haha

enjoy <3

prompts 7 and 17 w/ Mammon

Laundry wasn't exactly easy to manage in a house with seven demons and their human. Before your arrival, it was much more simple. Each brother got one day to do their laundry. The brother knew they'd have to add an additional member to their laundry rotation when the exchange program started, and at first it seemed as if it would be a chore in itself on who'd have to share their laundry day with you. They could just add you in after Belphie and before Lucifer, but that would throw off the seven day system and make things much more prone to conflict. So, the best option seemed to be sharing a day.

However, after they met you, it became something of a competition on who'd get to share their day with you. Naturally, this duty fell onto Mammon at first since he was the first to get closest with you and was your assigned guardian. He defended this honor hand and foot. His brothers constantly bargained with him to try and get him to swap. A couple times, Lucifer forcefully took it from him and other times he had an offer he couldn't refuse, but you always ended up back with him somehow.

Today was Tuesday, Mammon's laundry day. Washing your clothes together at the same time was easiest, so you always sat together and sorted your dirty clothes into lights, darks, and colors. At first, Mammon was very opposed to it, blushing and averting his eyes when it came to dealing with your undergarments, but he got over it after a while, but not before the two of you had lots of moments that involved yelling, embarrassment, and half an hour of awkwardness on his end. You took turns moving the clothes into the washer, then the dryer. Once it was all done, you separated your clothes so you could fold them and take them back to your respective rooms. Mammon learnt a lot from you about how to properly fold and organize his clothes, so much so that he didn't know how he functioned before. At first, you folded together because he needed help, but now it was just a nice time to chat and get the task done absentmindedly.

Both of you really looked forward to this time together, and while you'd probably both be more efficient if you did it separately, it was time spent together, which Mammon wouldn't trade for the world. He secretly really enjoyed the domesticity. But, because you often folded without thinking, sometimes you got each other's clothes. As a result of this, Mammon ended up with your shirt. He realized while he was putting his shirts that he'd accidently folded one of your shirts and put it in with his. It had originally been his, actually, but he'd given it to you while he was clearing out his wardrobe a while back.

His first thought was to return it, but as he sat there, he realized he kind of wanted to keep it for a little bit. While it had originally been his, the two of you had made plenty of memories when it was under both his and your ownership. It was a little selfish of him, but he wanted to wear it to relive those times. Besides, you wouldn't miss it for the one day he wore it. So after his shower, he put the shirt on along with a hoodie because he was cold.

After a few hours had passed, he'd totally forgotten that he'd worn your shirt and went to hang out with you in your room as usual. He took off the hoodie at one point, and threw it aside on your bed. It wasn't long before you pointed out his choice of outfit. "Mammon, is that my shirt?" He froze mid-stretch.

"What? Nooo, of course it's not." Mammon shoved his arms back to his side, and crossed them over his chest.

"It's alright if it is." You laughed at his antics.

"I'm not falling for that again." He angled his body away from you, but kept stealing glances back at you to see if you were looking at him.

"By saying that, you know you just admitted that it was my shirt," you said.

"I did not! I'm not falling for yer mind tricks again. Besides, this isn't your shirt." Mammon didn't exactly understand what you'd just said, but either way, he refused to admit he'd borrow your shirt.

"You're a terrible liar." You knew him too well. You always saw right through him.

"Am not!" He vehemently protested.

"Whatever you say Mams. You can hang onto it for as long as you want. It's our shirt." Mammon's heart pounded at your words. The fact that anything could be both of yours made him nervous, but he liked it. More specifically, he liked you, but he'd never tell you that. Well, not directly. Maybe someday he would if you didn't figure out on your own. For now though, he was content with things how they were. Just you and him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Reader takes post Hisui Ingo (and possible Emmet) to Sinnoh where he takes them to Lady Sneaslers cave, Ingo would probably find her fossil and be sad until Reader reminds him that they can now bring back well preserved fossils. Que Ingo and Ladys reunion (headcanon that fossils retain their memories cos its cute)

It took quite some time for Ingo to readjust to the present, considering at least five whole years have passed since he got thrown back in time...lost in the ancient region of Hisui.

You've been stuck there too, but eventually you made a deal with Arceus after "seeking out all Pokémon" as requested and capturing it:

If you released your cherished team back into the wild, it'll let you both go home. Of course, that wasn't an easy sacrifice to make, though after bidding farewell to the Pokémon that helped you save Hisui--and the world as a whole--Arceus did fulfill its end of the bargain.

It dropped you and Ingo off into a familiar underground subway, where Emmet so-happened to be patrolling alone at that same time.

He nearly passed out upon seeing that you both finally back home, especially his older twin.

Fortunately, he remembered everything about him the second they met eyes....leading to the brothers hugging and sobbing for a solid ten minutes together. You simply stood on the sidelines as Chandelure and Eelektross gave their trainers space and celebrated your return.

After the media caught wind of the good news, life pretty much resumed as normal--except the brothers put a temporary halt on their battle subway operations as you suggested a vacation to Sinnoh. Obviously Ingo's mind was still foggy, so he wasn't quite fit to resume any dual battles yet.

He did, however, wish to show Emmet what he learned of this region based on his experiences in Hisui--especially Mt. Coronet. He took you both to the cavern that used to be his warden post.

"I gotta admit, you're turning into quite the historian." Emmet remarked, looking all around as the three of you ventured further into the cave. Only your flashlight shined the path forward. "You were just..guarding this so-called "Noble Pokémon" from danger?"

"Indeed. That's exactly it!" Ingo explained with much vigor. "As warden, it was my duty to ensure Lady Sneasler's territory was protected and that offerings were delivered to her from time to time. Of course, I didn't think Pearl Clan would ever trust a stranger like myself. But it ended up being a wise decision on their part."

Emmet simply muttered an "ahh" in surprise, nodding his head as you and him continued listening to the older twin's story. He went on to discuss the baby Sneasels that were under Sneasler's care, saying they were cared for in this very cave and that you were nearing her den.

However, you three would soon happen upon a rather...unfortunate sight. But neither of you knew it yet until Ingo abruptly stopped in his tracks, having found something he wishes he could unsee.

"...oh, so...that's all there is now...." His voice turned flat.

"Ingo? What's wrong?" Emmet asked in worry.

"I think I know.." You frowned slightly, standing beside Ingo and flicking on your flashlight, revealing bones embedded into the dirt of the den.

But they weren't just any regular old bones scattered everywhere...

They made up the fossil of a certain Sneasler.

"..of course, h-how could I forgotten? She's gone.." Ingo bowed his head in mourning, feeling the ache in his heart growing as the reality of this discovery hit him hard. But even with the bill of his hat casting a shadow over his eyes, you and Emmet could see his lips tremble, tears sliding down both cheeks.

"M-My Lady..."

Hearing his voice break was something neither of you expected, but of course....you understood why.

This had to be a difficult thing to confront, knowing that the Noble he formed such a close bond with, the one who helped him in that lost and unfamiliar distant past...was now extinct.

There will never be another Sneasler like her again.

The only proof of her existence was kept within a fossil-

'Wait...her fossil...'

You suddenly remembered something extremely crucial, and smiled, knowing exactly how to help Ingo in his moment of despair. So you gently put a hand on his shoulder, trying to get his attention. "Hey, Ing-"

"I never even thought about what became of her until now.." He put his hand over yours, voice still trembling, as he believed you were only trying to comfort him. "We left so suddenly and...god, she must have been so confused. Did she think we abandoned her? Did she live out the rest of her days in anger or sorrow? Oh how I...I-I just wish I could see her one last time..."

"We can make that happen, Ingo."

"..huh?" Blinking, he stared at you with puffy eyes, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? We can't go back-"

"We've got the technology to revive fossils, remember?" You reminded him, seeing his expression shift for a moment. And then recollection seemed to flash in his eyes.

"Ahah..that's right. I-I must have forgotten..." He chuckled softly, wiping away his tears as he finally calmed down. "Is it possible to fully restore her?"

"I believe so! Her fossil looks verrrry well-preserved!" Emmet nodded, happy to see his brother's smile again. "We must dig this up post haste! It'd be an honor to meet this "Lady Sneasler"."

"Then it's decided, gentlemen." You grinned, clapping your hands together. "Let's get to digging!"

.........

The excavation of Lady Sneasler's fossil went off without a hitch, and you wasted no time heading to Oreburgh's Mining Museum afterwards.

The scientist in charge of reviving fossils was initially taken aback by the odd skeleton piece you gave him, though he accepted it nonetheless and insisted you three waited outside until the process was complete.

Yet his words left Ingo nervous as he paced back and forth in front of the museum sign. He kept muttering train-related facts under his breath, trying to keep calm. But he couldn't help wondering if something could go wrong.

What if it's impossible? What if she's brought back wrong or without any memory of who he was?

Would she be terrified of the sudden changes that modern society brought and go berserk??

Did..any Fossil Pokémon feel that way when they were first revived?

Fortunately, as quickly as these concerns descended upon him...they were just as quick to leave when he heard a familiar cry and footsteps growing louder. And he turned in astonishment to see who came running out of the museum, a frantic scientist in-tow.

Both you and Emmet looked on, the latter surprised to see it was a tall Sneasel-like Pokémon with purple fur jogging over to you all. But you had a huge smile on your face, knowing very well that's the Noble you hoped to see again. She looked the same as she did all those years ago.

"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! I-It ran out the second I brought it back to life!!" He kept shouting.

"Halt! There's no need to proceed further!" Emmet barked, putting his hand up to stop him in his tracks. "Thank you for your services. We'll take care of her from here."

"...a-ah yes, of course! Sorry." Coughing nervously, the scientist smoothed out his ruffled lab coat, before heading back inside the museum.

"Sneas?" While initially confused at Emmet's presence, Lady Sneasler perked up at Ingo's voice as he approached her.

"My Lady..."

For a moment, she looked down at the man, at first not recognizing him outside of his tattered Pearl Clan garb. But after sniffing him a few times, the usually stoic Pokémon smiled warmly and ruffled his head gently. "Snea!"

"O-Oh, thank Arceus...you remember..!!" He beamed, although her mood suddenly switched as she huffed, before stepping back and crossing her arms, foot tapping with impatience.

The look in her eye told Ingo "you owe me an explanation big time".

But before he could speak up, you intervened, knowing it was really your fault that they never got to properly say goodbye to each other. So you explained everything to her, and she seemed to understand, given how her facial features gradually softened.

After nodding her head in respect, she turned back to her warden, embracing him in an act of forgiveness. At first he was in shock, though he returned the hug seconds later, tears of happiness streaking down his cheeks this time.

He'll worry about how Lady Sneasler will adapt to this new world later on...but for now he just wanted to take in this moment.

You and Emmet just looked on, relieved to see the pair reunited after being thrown timelines apart.

"Awh, that is verrrrry touching." He clasped his hands together with a grin. "I wonder how she'd fair in batt--ough!!"

Elbowing him in the gut, you huffed in annoyance. "Not the time, Em."

"..r-right, sorry!"

[biscuitbox23]

“I’m alright on the other side, what about you?”

Summary: After your death, Daryl starts to lose his mind. He hallucinates about you in the woods, taunting him. well, that's what he thinks.

Author’s Note: I had to admit, I almost cried while proofreading this, not because the story is sad but because of the amount of grammar mistakes (I have a love/hate relationship with Grammarly).

warnings: mentions of character death, violence, typically angst shit.

Word count: 1.1k

Daryl's heart ached with a fierce longing for you. He spent countless nights consumed by anger and bargaining with fate, but nothing could ease the pain of your absence. The emptiness he felt inside was all-encompassing, and he knew that only you could have offered him any measure of solace.

He kept blaming himself for it every day despite your recklessness. You were torn at the hip by a walker and had to go through the hell of letting the blood flow and allowing the horde of walkers to rip through your body. Daryl tried his best to keep you alive.

He walked through the woods, away from the prison for now. It was quiet, other than the occasional squeaks of squirrels and rustles of the wind. Your death was recent, and it had an enormous impact on him. You were the type of person who feared death, so you did what you could to survive. You didn't want to give up because you were scared. He acted like a knight saving a fallen princess. It was ill-fated from the start.

You had met Daryl and his brother at the beginning of the camp when the situation was unfolding. Despite Daryl's rude attitude and his brother's questionable behavior, you always checked in on them. Making sure they were doing well. However, as the world around them crumbled, things started to change. Daryl's brother disappeared, and now you were gone too. For Daryl, his world had crumbled beneath his feet, leaving him lost in a sea of chaos and despair. Even so, you were always there for him, always willing to offer a helping hand or a kind word. You even helped him find Sophia, not because you wanted anything in return, but simply because it was the right thing to do.

But there was a saying, 'If you're a good person, you die out there.' 

You were good enough to try and get him a way to escape on one run. The only thing is, you had no other way out. The best you could do was look at him with a deep sigh. The look on your face still haunts his dreams.

You left with acceptance. You didn't beg for your life at that point. It was just a sigh of acceptance, knowing there would be no way out. Back in camp, when things went wrong, you were like a scared little mouse that Daryl had to save your ass almost all the time. And it was okay for him. 

"Still sulking over me?" You chuckled smugly.

Daryl felt himself jolt up from the ground. Your voice echoes through the woods. as if you were still there, sharing a cigarette with him like it always was. He enjoyed your company, and he needed it more now.

"Y/n?" Daryl breathed out. 

"Hey, Dare," You puffed out smoke from your lungs as you leaned on a tree, "Guess you get a little jumpy now, huh?" The cigarette hung between your middle and pointer finger, tapping the small paper-wrapped intoxicant with your thumb to let some ash out. The ash trickled down like snow to the ground.

Daryl doesn't respond, just watching you look around at the trees as you lean back to the tree. Your eyes met him, a big grin forming on your face.

"Come on, you used to talk to me a lot. What's bothering you?" You looked at him with a chilled-out smile.

"Nothin' just missed you..." Daryl said, his voice hoarse and husky.

"I missed you too, Dare," You chuckled, "at least you were the last person I saw when I died..." You shrugged sheepishly. Your tone was casual, almost as if you weren't terrified anymore. 

"Don't..." Daryl sighed deeply, "Don't remind me... please."

"Well, you gotta live with it," You scoffed, now on a tree trunk, taking a sip of a beer. Every time Daryl looked away, you started moving from one place to another, "live to fight another day, Daryl."

"You're the one who killed yourself to save me," Daryl spat as you looked over at him lazily.

"I didn't kill myself, Daryl. I sacrificed myself," You smiled, sitting on a log now. You held onto a leaf, examining the intricacy of nature. Your clothes changed too. You wore an orange-shaded striped sweater and jorts, like when he first saw you.

"No, you didn't. You killed yourself. You do not even know how long I have left," Daryl shook his head, feeling himself starting to lose it a little.

"Don't say that," you rolled your eyes.

"I have every right to. You were stupid to do that and sacrifice yourself for me," Daryl sighed deeply.

"I had no choice. There was nowhere to run," you said sheepishly.

"It could've been me in there, don't you think?" Daryl spat his tone with rage and anger.

"No, but you can protect yourself," you shrugged as if you weren't bothered. "I can't, but you got Judith's formula, didn't you?"

There was an eerie, long pause. 

"It's okay, Daryl," your tone became gentler, more reassuring, "you can't save everyone, and that's okay."

You went over to him and hugged him from behind. He refused to look at you, knowing that once he looks at you, all he sees is his imagination. Despite his desperation to forgive himself and the longing for acceptance of your death, his mind can't help but think of you.

"I liked the way you cook squirrel," you smiled softly, hugging him tighter, "It tastes nice..." 

Bringing up the small memory made Daryl feel his heart sink. 

"you're not real, are you?" He asked as he looked at your arms wrapped around his waist. His hand reaches to your fingers, feeling your soft, cold flesh. Similar to when somebody dies in the hospital, their body becomes frigid as ice.

"I am," you console him, resting your cheek on his broad back and the leather bracing half of your face, "I'm living on the other side, Daryl."

"Is it nice there?" Daryl asks quietly, feeling his eyes tear up. He took a small halt but continued, "The other side?"

"Yeah, it's nice..." You nodded, "I'm alright on the other side. What about you?"

"I guess it's alright, too," Daryl's smile formed on his lips.

Knowing that you're happy somewhere brought him ease. It gave him a chance to move on calmly. That was when he opened his eyes, finally seeing you nowhere in the woods. A hallucination in which Daryl managed to move on. Walking back to the prison to finally let go of the burden of you.

———————————————————————

tag list:@richardsamboramylove55

A/n: Hello everyone! Yes I have brought you another tear jerker (i think). I have to admit I wasn’t really attracted to Daryl Dixon when I first saw him I started shipping him with Carol 😭 but anyways, I watched the Judas music video and OML he is so fine. Thank you lady Gaga for giving me the motivation to write about him ❤️

[palebonedry]

Could you tell us something more about nyavka!afo, please? How many appearances he has, what’s his opinion on Kudou, what sort of legend locals made of him and maybe something about his first follower 🥺?

Thank you for your ask. Of course! 😁

I rambled for quite a bit so I'm putting this under a read more:

Appearance wise Yoichi is the more traditional of the two with longer hair and sheer white clothing if he is wearing anything. But I think AFO would explore his style a bit more (on days he chooses to wear clothing of course) He often takes garments from those he has drowned, he may wear the tattered pieces around him like a robe. An older AFO might even wear some actual shirts if he is feeling fancy.

Both enjoy adorning themselves in foliage and wreathes but between the two AFO is far more likely to not wear them, and when he does he prefers more ostentatious and darker arrangements. (Even in death and a quirkless world he still needs to dress like a super villain lol). Additionally I have thought of them both with very long hair like would be more traditional for Nyavka, perhaps they did that when they were younger.

Concerning local legends, no one knows AFO's name but they are certainly aware that something lurks in the waters of the forest. Locals say that after two brothers drowned after being chased out of a village, a massive flood destroyed it completely, due to the work of a vengeful spirit. Not to say that AFO is the only spirit in the forest but he is certainly one of the most aggressive and consistently murderous. Yoichi meanwhile goes out of his way *not* to drown people and can be even be benevolent when not giving in to his urges. And the neighboring rusalka (other water related spirits) tend not to drown everyone they come across, only those who they find amusing or who insult them.

Onto Machia. . ..Machia is a huntsman who was raised in the mountain nearby. Unlike many other people who have discarded myths he is very aware of legends came prepared with the proper things to keep his life and to bargain properly if he were to encounter any spirits . . . And encounter a spirit he did as AFO stood in river expecting another easy victim.

But Machia was something new. Countless others had begged before. But to have someone look at him in all of his terror and beauty like he was something to be worshipped instead of just sniveling in fear? To throw themselves at his feet offering themselves completely to him without having to strangle them first? That was new. . .Machia's proper offering of a bejeweled comb certainty helped him gain favor as well. (Like some rusalka stories Nyavka sometimes are placated with gifts such a comb in some stories) So AFO decided to let him live. . . With the promise of Machia returning with more finery naturally. Machia of course falls head over heels for him, while AFO is delighted to be worshipped. I imagine in his own way he does feel some affection for Machia (even if he does not recognize it at the start) but it's certainly twisted by his being an undead spirit and it's very much again based on what Machia can do for him.

As for Kudou . . . Oh he despises Kudou. Yoichi is his and has always been his. When Yoichi fled with the man it was naturally Kudou's fault and not a result of AFO trying to kill Kudou and control Yoichi. The two were born together, died together, and he refuses to let some mortal break those bonds now. This concept has many versions, in several he either tricks Yoichi into killing Kudou (with the help of Machia) or drowns the man himself. Even in happier endings where Yoichi escapes with Kudou, he is willing to take some extreme actions to hunt him down and get Yoichi back.

Some other miscellaneous info: - even an undead quirkless AFO is still a hoarder he collects trinkets from drowned souls and the villages he has ravaged. He and Yoichi live in a cave which is primarily filled with this "treasure". He appreciates the luxurious offerings Machia brings even more, even if he has no use for fine furs and horilka he still likes feeling revered. -Yoichi and AFO had a frankly miserable and short human life, during which they were both considered cursed by those around them. Neither of them have many good memories but Yoichi is more idealistic and willing to let himself be more vulnerable around Kudou, while AFO would prefer to pretend he was never human in the first place. One of the reasons he likes Machia so much is because of how he treats him like an untouchable god.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Carrion Flowers

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x original female character (Ceryse Stone) Warnings: Cartomancy/tarot/fortune telling, mentions of death, smut. Word count: ~4k

Summary: Annoyed after offering to help seek out his older brother, Aegon, Aemond wanders into the tent of a fortune teller in Flea Bottom to seek out information. He gets much more than he bargains for. Based on this request.

Artwork by the insanely talented @cyeco13

Ceryse drums her ring covered fingers on the cloth covered table top, her green eyes scanning over the tarot deck spread out in front of her for what feels like the hundredth time that afternoon. It has been a slow day in Flea Bottom. Were it not for the merciful relief from the blazing sun that her tent provides, she'd have packed up and gone home hours ago. The only people that have ducked under the canvas so far have been opportunistic drunks looking for somewhere private to pass water, or lost merchants seeking out directions.

She sighs as an intrusion of sunlight casts her in momentary brightness, before darkening once more. The movement of the opening causes the candlelight to flicker. She doesn't bother to look up, she hasn't had a customer all day.

"I'm looking for a man." A smooth, even voice says.

"Pleasure house is that way." She huffs tiredly, half heartedly casting her forefinger in the general direction of the Street of Silk, the movement causing the bangles that adorn her slender wrist to clatter together, as her gaze remains on her cards.

"It's information I'm after, actually."

She looks up, pushing the waves of her long auburn hair from her face in order to take a better look at her insistent visitor. The tall figure is having to stoop to prevent his head from hitting the peaked roof. He exhales heavily through his nose, his nostrils flaring in obvious annoyance.

She'd recognise that face anywhere; the eyepatch, the scar. It is Prince Aemond Targaryen that stands before her. He is trying to disguise his identity, though doing a poor job.

The clasp holding his cloak together costs more than she makes in an entire year. She bites back a laugh thinking about how stiflingly hot he must feel in all those layers.

"Information?" She muses nonchalantly, hiding her recognition. "That will cost you a silver."

He hesitates, narrowing his eye and pursing his lips. "A silver? My lady, you are attempting to extort a Prince!"

"A Prince?" Ceryse rests her chin on her hands, regarding him with amusement. "Well, why didn't you say sooner? In that case, for you, it's two silvers."

“I do not have time for this.” Aemond seethes, turning to leave.

“I’ll throw in a free reading?” She offers, her tone saccharinely sweet. 

“No.” He says icily, pulling back the tent flap.

“Suit yourself. Good luck finding your brother!” She retorts cheerfully.

He turns, looking at her incredulously as he’s about to crouch back through the way he came. “How did you-”

“Goodbye, Prince Aemond.” She calls out airily, returning her focus to the fanned out cards on her table.

He leaves with a haughty huff. 

Ceryse smiles to herself. Aemond has provided welcome amusement on an otherwise dreary afternoon. She spends the rest of the day half wondering to herself if he’ll send the Gold Cloaks after her for her insolence, though when early evening rolls around and she begins to pack down for the day, she is relieved that he has not.

The sky is awash with purple and orange hues as the sun sets, and she is placing the last of her tent poles into a linen sack when Aemond approaches once more. She straightens, eyeing him with levity as he stalks towards her.

“You know you’re fooling no one with that silly cloak.” She laughs.

He ignores her comment, though she notices the tight line his lips press into. “I would like a reading.” He tells her matter of factly.

“Couldn’t find your brother?”

“No, we found him, but…you knew I was looking for him. Your powers of divination must be strong.”

She gives a wry smile, shaking her head. “‘Tis no divine magic. Prince Aegon frequents this little corner of King’s Landing. I’ve chased him out of my tent more than once for trying to piss in it. It wasn’t hard to guess who you sought.”

Aemond appears to consider this for a moment, his gaze downcast. “I’d still like a reading.” He states, meeting her eye.

“I’ve packed down for the day already.” She gestures towards the bags around her feet.

“I’m willing to pay. Double what you asked; four silvers.”

Ceryse’s eyes go wide. She wouldn’t have to work for an entire week with that sort of coin, she’d be a fool to refuse him. “Very well.” She nods. “You can accompany me home and I’ll do it there. The sun is setting and this isn’t a place it’s wise to be once night falls.”

She picks up the largest of the bags, containing the tent canvas and poles, and thrusts it into Aemond’s arms. “Might as well make yourself useful.” She smirks, collecting up the rest of her things.

Aemond adjusts the bag in his arms, looking affronted at having been asked to carry it. “Who helps you with this usually?"

“Nobody. Us small folk don’t have servants to fetch and carry for us. I load that onto my back and carry the other two in my hands.”

“Hmm.”

They walk through the winding, cobblestoned streets of Flea Bottom for a few moments in silence, until Aemond decides to speak. “I didn’t ask you your name.”

“You didn’t.” Comes Ceryse’s clipped reply.

“You are infuriating.” Aemond mutters.

She giggles, looking sideways at him. “My name is Ceryse.”

“Might I know your last name?”

She hesitates a moment, sighing. “Stone.”

“Hmm. A bastard of the Vale.” He muses.

“Does that offend you?” She eyes him curiously as they continue walking.

“No, it’s just-”

“A bastard put out your eye.”

“That is treason.” He states coolly.

“Do you care?”

“I suppose not.”

She stops once they reach a row of single storey houses all on a slant. They are packed tightly together and look as though the slightest breeze could topple them over. She approaches the one on the end, setting her bags down and unlocking the door.

“Here we are.” She announces, stepping over the threshold and moving to the side to allow Aemond in.

He has to duck to get through the doorway and once inside the sight of this towering hooded man in her humble abode feels like a fever dream. She watches as he takes in his surroundings. She has never felt resentful of the little she has, but now, seeing the face of royalty cast their gaze around the cramped space she inhabits, she can’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Her bed is unmade, and her belongings litter every available surface.

“You have a lovely home.” Aemond says stiffly.

“You’re a horrible liar.” Ceryse snaps back.

“Where should I..?” He hefts the tent bag in his arms, looking at her questioningly. 

“Oh, just stick that anywhere!” She says with a shrug, masking her shame as she sets her own bags down, and begins rummaging for her deck of cards. “So you wanted a reading?”

Aemond unfastens his cloak, taking it off and folding it carefully. “Yes. Where shall I put this?”

She takes it from him, throwing it onto the bed, then sets the cards down on a small wooden table that sits at the end of it.

He raises his eyebrows in shock. “Do you have wine?”

“No, too expensive. I’ve got ale though.”

She moves towards the little area that serves as her kitchen, snatching up a clay bottle from the side. Pulling the cork out with her teeth, she fills two mugs before handing one to Aemond.

He accepts it with a quiet thanks, sniffing it apprehensively before taking a sip. His nose immediately wrinkles in disgust.

“Not to your liking, my Prince?” Ceryse asks with a grin.

He coughs slightly, shaking his head. “That is vile.”

She chuckles, moving back towards the table. She seats herself on the end of the bed, gesturing a hand towards the sole stool situated at the other side.

Aemond sits, looking comically too large for the rickety wooden furniture. “So, how does this work?”

“Payment first.” She reminds him. “The drink is free, no need to throw in extra for that.”

For the first time that day he smiles, genuine mirth tugging at the corners of his mouth. Fishing four silvers from his coin purse, he deposits them onto the table, then takes another swig from his mug with a grimace.

Ceryse pockets the coins then shuffles the deck of cards. “What is it you wish to know?”

Aemond licks his lips nervously, his voice lowering as though he is afraid he’ll be overheard. “Am I to be King?”

She quirks an eyebrow. “Is your father dead?”

“Yes…I should not be telling you this.” He pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I shan’t tell a soul, but what of his heir, Rhaenyra?”

“My mother has plans to crown Aegon instead. His coronation is tomorrow.”

Ceryse inhales sharply. She is no fool, that is as good as a declaration of war. “So what makes you think you will be King?”

“My brother does not want the crown, furthermore he is not fit to rule.”

“I see.” She spreads the cards out in a fanned formation on the table between them, her jewelry clinking together as she moves her palm over them, waiting to feel the warmth of the one she should pluck out first. As heat tingles her fingers, she snatches it up, laying the card face up in the centre of the wooden surface.

The Tower.

A snap of jaws. Bones crunching. A dragon and its rider falling from the sky.

Ceryse startles from her vision, meeting Aemond’s worried stare. “There will be a terrible accident, it will change the course of everything.”

“Does it involve me?” He asks.

“Truthfully, I do not know. I didn’t see enough.”

Aemond takes a deep breath, nodding for her to continue.

She passes her hand over the cards again, selecting one once she feels a prickle of hotness.

The Magician.

Aemond sits upon the Iron Throne. He wears an iron and ruby crown.

“You will rule as King of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Aemond’s eye widens. “What of Aegon?”

“I do not know. There is one more card to draw still.”

“Go on then.”

She picks it up as soon as she feels the subtle warmth.

The Hanged Man.

Aemond plunges into water. He is chained to his dragon. A sword is plunged through his seeing eye.

Ceryse’s gasps, her hand shaking as she lets the card flutter loosely from between her fingers.

“What is it? What did you see?!” Aemond demands.

She hesitates. When she’d learned her craft in Braavos one of the first rules she’d been taught with regards to divination is to never disclose the nature of a person’s death to them, should she happen to see it.

“I saw nothing.” She lies. “The card means sacrifice, release, martyrdom. You will serve Westeros well.”

“I think it is you who is the horrible liar.” He stares pointedly at her. “Tell me what you saw.”

“I saw nothing.” She repeats, her voice raising as her heart hammers in her chest. She puts the silvers back on the tabletop. “I couldn’t complete your reading fully. Take this back and go.”

He leaves the coins where they are, but stands and retrieves his cloak from the bed. “I bid you goodnight, Ceryse.” He nods at her as he moves towards the door. “Perhaps I shall return another time for the rest of my reading.”

“Do not come back here.” She urges, rising from the edge of the mattress and ushering him into the street.

She leans heavily against the door after closing it on him, the image of his lifeless body sinking downwards branded into her mind.

True to Aemond’s word, the next day brings about the coronation of Aegon Targaryen. Watching through her window, as the crowds filter through the streets towards the Sept, fills Ceryse with an eerie feeling. She will not join them. Nothing good will come of this. They are doomed to a terrible fate and she wants no part of it. She thinks back to how she had seen Aemond smile the previous evening and wonders how many more times he will feel such genuine happiness before his life is cruelly snuffed out.

The almighty crash, followed by a dragon’s roar that echoes through the city causes her to jump, and she knows she was right to avoid going to the sept. The distant screams of the smallfolk are a stark reminder of how easily her life could have been taken from her. She wonders if Aemond is okay, whether today will be the day that he meets the fate she foresaw.

It is early evening when she hears a knock at the door. She pulls it open and there he stands, dressed in the same ridiculously obvious disguise from yesterday; Aemond.

“I told you not to come back.” She says flatly.

“I know.” He shifts awkwardly. “I just…I went to look for you after the coronation and I couldn’t see your tent in Flea Bottom. I thought-”

“I didn’t go.” She interrupts.

“I can see that. I’m glad you’re alright.” He replies, relaxing slightly.

She smiles softly. “I’m glad you are too.”

“Does that mean I can visit you?”

She rolls her eyes. “On one condition; you don’t ask for any more readings or for me to elaborate any further on the one you already had.”

“You drive a hard bargain.”

“And it’s a long walk back to the Red Keep. Off you go.”

He smiles that smile again and she finds herself returning it, a warmth spreading through her chest.

She invites him inside and they while away the evening, drinking more of the ale that makes Aemond wince in distaste as he tells her all that happened at Aegon’s coronation. She hears about the tears he saw on his brother’s cheeks as he walked through the sept, about how Rhaenys had burst through the floor on the back of Meleys and had now surely made her way to Dragonstone to swear allegiance to Rhaenyra.

Ceryse listens in silent horror. She feels anguish for the lives needlessly lost over Rhaenys’ arrogant urge to make a statement, and dread gnaws at her insides over the war she knows will stem from the rivalry for the Iron Throne. She knows if she had any sense she’d push Aemond from her home and make sure he never returns, nothing good can come from inviting this man into her life. She cannot escape the image of his death, and yet she is drawn to him all the same.

He eventually leaves her home under the cover of darkness, with a promise to return soon. It is an unlikely friendship, a fortune teller and a Prince, but she enjoys his company and he seems to like hers too. 

He returns two nights later, a bottle of Dornish red in hand.

“I thought we might indulge in something a little more refined than that swill you call ale.” He tells her.

It is viscous and sweet, subtly spiced. The flavours dance on her tongue and she is certain she has never tasted anything more exquisite. 

“It’ll do.” She shrugs, and there it is once more; the slight curve of his smile. Her heart flutters, though she is certain it’s the effects of the wine.

They chat idly for a while, until Aemond grows solemn. “This will be my last visit.” He tells her quietly.

“Oh?” She feels her chest tighten. She knows she will have to let him go eventually, but hadn’t anticipated ending their friendship so soon.

“I am to fly to Storm’s End tomorrow. My mother wishes for me to marry one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters, in order to strengthen Aegon’s claim to the Iron Throne.”

She nods, the acrid heat of jealousy blooming down her throat and into her chest. She despises the sensation, swallowing thickly in an attempt to rid herself of it. “Well, I suppose congratulations are in order.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a few moments, neither one of them knowing quite what to say.

“I suppose I should go.” Aemond finally decides.

Ceryse stands to see him out. He turns to her as opens the door.

“Would you let me kiss you? Just to say goodbye. I-I can’t face never seeing you again and not knowing what it is to taste your lips.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Aemond, I’m sorry.”

He bows his head sadly, glancing up at her one final time before turning and walking away.

She closes the door, knowing in her heart she has made the right choice. She knows that the moment his lips touch hers she will beg him to stay, but he is not hers to keep. Their destinies are not entwined.

Life carries on as normal for Ceryse. Setting up her tent each day in Flea Bottom, before packing it down again and returning home at dusk.

Three days after Aemond leaves her he returns to her. He stands at her door soaking wet, his right eye rimmed red with tears.

“I-I didn’t know where else to go.”

She ushers him inside, stripping him of his wet clothes and hanging them in front of the small fireplace.

“May I stay here?” He sounds fragile, like a frightened child. “I cannot return home. Not yet.”

She nods, passing him a blanket to wrap himself in as he sits in front of the fire in his braies and undershirt. “What happened?”

He simply shakes his head, wet silver hair hanging in his face.

He doesn’t need to say it, but she knows it has happened. The Tower. 

They share the space of her tiny bed that night, and Aemond clings to her like she is a lifeline. She isn’t sure if he ever actually falls asleep, his breathing never deepens or relaxes, and he remains rigid against her despite the embrace he holds her in.

As the first soft rays of sunlight begin to stream through the small window, she rolls to face him. His seeing eye is closed, and his patch has slipped away from the one that bears his scar. She studies it intently, she had heard rumours that Prince Aemond wore a sapphire in his empty eye socket, but had never seen it for herself. It catches the light, shimmering brightly. She traces her finger delicately along the ragged line that mars his cheek and he grumbles, rolling to face her and pulling her tightly against him.

“Does it not bother you?” He asks groggily.

“No, you wear it well.” She replies honestly.

They lay together, the steady rhythm of their combined breathing the only sound in the room, until finally she builds up the courage to ask. “Aemond, why are you here?”

He closes his eye, inhaling shakily and it is only then that she notices he is trembling. “Aemond?”

He buries his face in the crook of her neck, his voice muffled. “You saw it, didn’t you? You said there’d be a terrible accident.”

She strokes a hand comfortingly through his hair. “I saw parts. What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to do it.” His voice cracks. “I only meant to scare him.”

A snap of jaws. Bones crunching. A dragon and its rider falling from the sky.

“Oh, Aemond.” She says sadly. “Who was it?”

“My nephew, Lucerys. The one that took my eye.”

There will be a terrible accident, it will change the course of everything.

“You have to go back, you must deal with this.” She tells him.

“I will.” He sniffles. “I will, just…not now. I want to feel anything but this, if only for a moment.”

He presses forward and his lips are upon hers. She kisses him back, his tears wetting her cheeks, wanting to give him a fleeting moment of happiness amidst his turmoil. The moment intensifies as their tongues meet and he pulls her on top of him before sitting up, her legs falling either side of his waist.

She gasps as his mouth moves from hers to trail white hot kisses along her jaw and down her neck, and she wonders where a man of such good breeding learned to commit such sinful acts. Her fingers tangle into his silver locks as he tugs down her shift to reveal her breasts, mouthing at them before sucking a hardened peak into his mouth. Arousal pools between her legs as she feels herself involuntarily grinding against him, his own desire more than evident through the thin cotton of his undergarments. 

“Aemond, we shouldn’t…” She says breathlessly, as his hand moves beneath her hem and up her thigh.

“I know.” He responds in a whisper. “But I do not have the willpower to stop.”

Her jaw goes slack as she feels his fingers move through the slick that has collected between her legs. A noise akin to a growl rumbles from the depths of his throat.

He withdraws his hand, freeing his cock and before Ceryse can stop herself she is sinking down onto it, moaning quietly at the gratifying stretch, as Aemond grits his teeth, his grip on her tightening.

He pulls her in for another passionate kiss, as she plants her feet flat on the bed, using the purchase to aid in meeting each of his upward thrusts. She wraps her arms around his neck and his mouth returns to her chest as he fucks up into her. Their pace is hurried and full of desperate need.

Ceryse’s hand drifts between her legs, circling her pearl as her and Aemond’s hips move together. Her other hand returns to his hair, her grip tightening as she feels her impending climax and he lets out a feral groan, releasing her nipple with a wet pop.

“I am not going to last…” He murmurs.

She nods, the familiar tightness coiling itself in her lower belly. “I won’t either.”

Speeding up her ministrations, she pushes herself over the edge, clenching around Aemond as she cries out in ecstasy, feeling light headed as every nerve ending comes alive. He is not far behind, pulling out and spilling ropes of pearly spend across her thighs and lower belly with a relieved grunt.

They collapse next to each other, both panting for breath. As the rush of euphoria wears off, reality sets in and a deep, aching sense of dread overwhelms Ceryse. She is certain Aemond feels it too, as he tenses up beside her.

“Will you really not tell me what you saw in the final card?” He asks solemnly.

She gulps. “It wouldn’t change anything. It’s better that you don’t know.”

He rises from the bed, dressing in silence, and she does the same.

“I won’t forget you.” He whispers, cupping her cheeks and pressing his forehead to hers, once he is ready to leave.

“Nor will I forget you.” She answers softly. “But I mean it this time, you cannot come back.”

“I know.” He says sadly.

He gives her one final soft kiss on the lips, before walking away. Ceryse turns away, unwilling to watch him go.

In the days that follow, Ceryse decides it is best if she leaves King’s Landing behind for good. Lucky for her, she has spent little of Aemond’s four silvers and is able to afford passage on a ship departing to Braavos, the city in which she learned the art of divination. She is eager to be away from Westeros before the war begins in earnest. She does not want to be on the continent as it burns and crumbles, and she cannot bear the thought of being there the moment that Aemond ceases to be.

As she stands on the sole of the ship, the wind whipping her auburn hair around her head, she pulls the Hanged Man from her pocket, watching it flutter in the breeze before she lets go, her final tie to the One Eyed Prince. She watches as it floats on the surface of the water before sinking downward, much as she has watched Aemond do the same.

[shadowqueenjude]

Elorcan

“You swear it? That you will protect me?” “I didn’t leave you to the ilken today, did I?” “Swear it.” “I promise. I will not abandon you.” “Then I will tell you what I know.” “Bigger tits won’t prove or hide anything.” “Perhaps they’ll keep men distracted just enough that they won’t ask questions.” “Husband." "Brother. I am your brother." “You are my husband. We have been married three months. Follow my lead. Men will not fear the threat of a brother. I would still be unclaimed—still be open for … invitations. I have seen how little respect men have for anything they think they are entitled to. So you are my husband until I say otherwise.” "You have no money, do you?" "Looks like I was mistaken." “Come, wife.” "Figure it out yourself." "We have a bargain, girl." “You did not specify when I had to tell you. So I may take as much time as I wish to recall details, if you desire to wring every last one of them from me.” “Do not toy with me.” “Or what? Kill me, hurt me, and you’ll still be out of answers.” “I could find some buckets, heat water, and you could bathe in here, if you want. I’ll stand watch outside.”

“I’ll offer Ombriel a coin to wash it all for you tonight.” “I have no other clothes to wear.” “You can sleep without them.” “With you in here?” “What about your own clothes?” “What of them?” “You … they’re filthy, too.” “I can wait another night.” “Why should I be the only one naked? Wouldn’t the ruse work better if you and I both took the opportunity at once?” “You are very young. And I am very old.” “How old?” “Old.” “A body is a body. You reek as badly as I do. Go sleep outside if you won’t wash.” “Fine." “How badly does it hurt every day?” “I’ve had it since I was a child. I learned to live with it.” “That’s not an answer.” “Why do you even care? You said you’d stand watch. I thought you meant outside.” “Enjoy yourself.” “My uncle … He is a commander at Morath. He … locked me in the dungeon once. His name is Vernon, and he is clever and cruel, and he will likely try to keep you alive if you are caught. He wields people to gain power for himself. He has no mercy, no soul. There is no moral code that guides him." “Would you like me to kill him for you?” "Would there be a cost?" "No." “Your foot has been ruined for years, though. He locked you in the dungeon that long?” “No. I was only in the dungeon for a week. The ankle, the chain … He did that to me long before.” "What chain." “When you kill my uncle, ask him yourself.” “Molly will be begging you to stay, you realize.” “Is that your professional prediction?” “Did you sell your shirt, too?” “Got ten coppers from a farmer’s wife for it.” “That’s disgusting.” “Money is money. I suppose you don’t need to worry about it, with all the gold you’ve got stashed.”

“Marion was my mother’s name. She died defending Aelin Galathynius from her assassin. My mother bought Aelin time to run—to get away so she could one day return to save us all. My uncle, Vernon, watched and smiled as my father, the Lord of Perranth, was executed outside our castle. Then he took my father’s title and lands and home. And for the next ten years, my uncle locked me in the highest tower of Perranth Castle, with only my nursemaid for company. When I broke my foot and ankle, he did not trust healers enough to let them treat it. He kept bars on the tower windows to keep me from killing myself, and shackled my ankles to keep me from running. I left for the first time in a decade when he shoved me into a prison wagon and dragged me down to Morath. There, he made me work as a servant—for the humiliation and terror he delights in. I planned and dreamed of escaping every day. And when the time came … I took my chance. I did not know about the ilken, had only heard rumors of fell things being bred in the mountains beyond the Keep. I have no lands, no money, no army to offer Aelin Galathynius. But I will find her—and help her in whatever way I can. If only to keep just one girl, just one, from ever enduring what I did.” “I am over five hundred years old. I am blood-sworn to Queen Maeve of the Fae, and I am her second-in-command. I have done great and terrible things in her name, and I will do more before death comes to claim me. I was born a bastard on the streets of Doranelle, ran wild with the other discarded children until I realized my talents were different. Maeve noticed, too. I can kill faster—I can sense when death is near. I think my magic is death, given to me by Hellas himself. I am in these lands on behalf of my queen—though I came without her permission. She might very well hunt me down and kill me for it. If her sentinels arrive looking for me, it is in your best interest to pretend not to know who and what I am.” “Do you have a family?” “No.” “Do you have friends?” “No.” “Then you and I are the same in that regard, at least.” “I’m going to Eyllwe. Take me ashore and I’ll wash my hands of you as easily as you washed the blood of that man off yours.” "Did you not hear what I said? Take me to shore.” “No.” “No?” “The river veered southward two miles ago. From the map in the cabin, we can take it straight south, then find the fastest route to Banjali. Turns out, I now have business with Aelin Galathynius, too. Congratulations, Lady. You just got yourself a guide to Eyllwe.” “As far as anyone’s concerned, you’re still my wife.” "I will always find you. I promise." "I will always find you too, Lorcan." “I wanted to go to Perranth with you.”

“I love you. I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken. And I will be with you …I will be with you always.” "No." "I love you. I have loved you, from the moment you came to fight for me against Vernon and the ilken. And when I heard you were somewhere on that battlefield, the only thing I wanted was to be able to tell you that. It was the only thing that mattered.” "Ask me to stay." "Stay." "Ask me to come to Perranth with you." "Ask me to marry you." "Will you marry me, Lorcan Salvaterre?" "I'll think about it." “It’s just … I’m Lady of Perranth. If you marry me, you will take my family name. Lord Lorcan Lochan?" “I’ll use it with pride every damned day for the rest of my life. I will marry you, Elide Lochan. And proudly call myself Lord Lorcan Lochan, even when the whole kingdom laughs to hear it. And when we are wed, I will bind my life to yours. So we will never know a day apart. Never be alone, ever again.”

[pocketramblr]

39. — heartache. Thank you!

tw- uh. blood. organs? surgery? its all unrealistic but still.

There were mottled bruises on Yoichi's chest. The green and purple stood stark and dark against the pale skin. He shivered more from the cold than from Kudo's eyes on it, even though he was used to both.

"Bruce?" Kudo asked, and the other man sighed.

"It's like I thought." Like Yoichi had said. "His heart's too weak on its own for his body. But as it is now, it's too strong."

It was too strong. Too loud. Yoichi's brother's voice used to be what echoed in his head. Now it was the rush of his own exhausted blood.

"So, the rest of his body just needs to catch up in health?" Kudo asked, as if they had the time or resources for that. Bruce shook his head.

Yoichi moved his hand. "No, I'll show you."

He pressed the bruised skin, and it moved back around his fingers. At his call, the organ moved closer, until bits shone in the light. His own pale green, but also the pearly new white that shimmered in other colors.

Kudo breathed in sharp as a knife.

Yoichi let go, and his heart sunk back. It was so heavy in his chest.

"So the rumors about your brother are true?"

Yoichi shrugged. It had been years since he last saw the glint of his brother's heart, green as well, but so dark it was almost black. Glinting like blood did.

Kudo turned again to Bruce. "How much stronger is it?"

"Than Yoichi's own heart? Two and half times stronger, maybe. Than yours or mine, one and a half?"

"Than his brother's?"

"Weaker." Yoichi answered for Bruce. Far weaker, still, than it probably had been at their birth. Certainly weaker than it now, with all the hearts he took from his followers, with all the hearts he stole.

Kudo hummed. "Alright. Take mine."

"No." Yoichi denied him almost before the offer reached his ears, eyes wide, hands moving frantically at nothing.

"Yoichi-"

"I'm not going to be like-"

Bruce cleared his throat. "Wouldn't that make it worse?"

Kudo blinked. "How would it?"

"Because- oh, you meant, I see."

"I don't. And no, I'm not taking-"

"You aren't." Kudo held out his hand. Yoichi took it by habit. His thumb rubbed over the back. It was rough, and warm. "We're going to trade."

Yoichi squeezed the hand tighter. That was worse.

A trade, a bargain, those all ended in death. Kudo had offered him freedom without a price. That was why he had taken it. There wasn't supposed to be an exchange.

"Yoichi."

He closed his eyes, instead of seeing Kudo's expression. The pain he was causing.

His heart beat even faster. His ribs ached with each thump.

"Don't die to spite him. Come out of the vault with me." Kudo said, over the drumming sound.

Just like he'd said the first time Yoichi had heard him speak.

Another hand on his, surrounding it.

"You know we're not the heroes you call us. Can you let us play at it too though, now? Let us try?"

Try. Just for him.

He'd be so selfish to let them. He'd be so selfish to deny them.

He had a headache from the sound of his heart.

He couldn't even hear himself think anymore.

Or maybe he just wasn't.

He opened his eyes, and looked at Bruce. "Is he healthy enough for it?"

Bruce nodded. "He should be. It's not even in the top half of the worst risks he's taken."

Yoichi almost wanted to laugh at that. Instead, tears stuck to his cheek.

"Fine. Yes."

"I'll get the supplies. Kudo, you'll need to lay down." Bruce ordered, and left the room.

Yoichi stood from the bed he was sitting on to give Kudo room after he took his shirt off, but found himself pulled down again anyway. They both fit, if narrowly.

Bruce returned and sterilized his scalpel and needle, put on gloves.

"Alright, if Yoichi's like I think, he'll be able to survive longer without it in than you, so, get it ready first."

Yoichi nodded, and this time, he almost pulled the whole organ out. It sat on his skin and in his palm. It moved under his fingers so quickly.

Bruce twisted a t-shirt and had Kudo bite down, then moved faster than Yoichi had seen.

It felt like no time at all, and also far, far too long. It took twelve heartbeats.

Kudo's heart was like all the others Yoichi had seen. Red and orange and shining, but he had no time to examine it further as Bruce grabbed the one from his hand and switched them, letting go to press the too-large heart into the hole in Kudo's chest. He held it there for a second, and Yoichi suddenly realized the gaping vacuum in his own.

He gasped, and pressed the new heart over his skin. It sunk in like the first and second ones had.

Suddenly, Yoichi was burning. The shock faded, but the warmth didn't.

Yoichi went limp.

He watched Bruce discard his top pair of gloves, then hold the skin closed to sew it back together.

The thread was yellow, whatever they'd been able to find. At least it had been boiled.

Yoichi realized there was blood, sticky and red, on both his and Kudo's chests. But under it on his would only be fading bruises. Under Kudo's, stitches and scars.

Kudo's sticky red blood was on Yoichi's hand, too. He moved it, and in a second Kudo had taken it, squeezed it just as tightly as he had.

Bruce tied off the thread and stuck down the bandages, then stepped back, panting like he'd run across a city.

"You ok?" He asked, taking the t-shirt from Kudo's mouth.

"Fine."

Yoichi nodded.

"Good." Bruce collapsed back into the chair, hands in his lap, not even bothering to remove the gloves. "Good."

Yoichi turned his head to look at Kudo. "How does it feel?"

"Like you. How does mine?"

Yoichi thought about the warmth that was spreading through his body now, more than he'd had in his life. The weight that was solid, but not crushing. The movement that was quick, but not running him into the ground. The sound that was there, but quieter.

"Like you. Thank you." He tilted his head, pressing his forehead to Kudo's. "My hero."

"Thank you. My heart."

"Thank you, doctor who saved both our lives." Bruce said to himself. "You're welcome."

"You never got a doctorate." Kudo breathed.

"You're only brave enough to say that now because I'm not holding the scalpel anymore."

Kudo and Yoichi let out breaths of laugh, then winced as their bodies and hearts adjusted to the sensation.

"Thank you, doctor hero." Yoichi added.

"You're welcome, favorite patient."

[obxone]

Vigilante Shit (Chapter Six)

Edited-ish. ~3.1k words

Tag list: @fishingirl12 @gillybear17 @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gills-lounge @emmafitzzz @redfieldfx @baby19sthings

Masterpage

Kildare County Detention Center looms before you. You sigh, shouldering your bag before climbing the steps into the building. You smile weakly at the sheriff as you go through the process of getting scanned for any possible weapons and contraband.

“Maybank, through here,” Peterkin gestures to the enclosed room after a deputy escorts you down the hall. Several incarcerated men bang on their doors and yell at you from their cells, but you ignore them.

The room is larger than you expected. Several people sit at aluminum tables that are placed throughout for inmates and visitors to sit at while they talk. You see your dad sitting at a table. His back to you, but that does not stop the nerves from exploding inside of you. In an attempt to wipe them away, you brush your hands down your jean clad thighs. It does not work. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She stops you, arm barred across the doorframe before you can enter. “I’m glad you are back, Sweetheart. I hear you’ve turned over a new leaf. Now, we need to get your brother to do the same. That’s the trick.”

“I’m trying. For both of us.”

“Good. You don’t need to end up in a place like this, you hear me? Either of you.”

You nod, and she drops her arm to let you through. You slid onto the bench across from Luke. He stares at you, a smirk toying at his lips.

“And the prodigal daughter returns.”

You huff as you drop the bag of things you had with things that were allowed to be given to him onto the table. “Do you even know what that word means? You barely graduated high school if I remember correctly.”

He snorts but seizes the bag and rifles through it. “Why are you here, y/n?”

“To let you know, I’m back and cleaning up some of the mess you created.” You say, chin raised as you stand your ground. “Again.”

He smirks, picking at the pack of cards you had brought him. “My dutiful daughter. Barry found out you’re back?”

You shrug, clasping your hands together. “Barry knows. When do they think you’ll go to trial?”

“Next month.”

“A plea bargain offered yet?”

He nods, the tip of his tongue toying with the inside of his bottom lip. “Five years in prison and parole for two after.”

“Was it worth it?”

He laughs, that dark maniacal laugh you hate. “What do you think?”

“No.”

“Smart girl. You always were, you know.” He looks up at you through his lashes. “Just like your momma. You’ve always been just like her. You look like her, and you act like her too.” He goes back to digging in the bag like a toddler that is ready to count his prizes. “Thought you were gone for good.”

“I did, too,” you confess quickly. “But JJ needs someone in his corner.”

“He didn’t want to come today?”

“No.”

He frowns, shaking his head. “Ungrateful bastards, both of you.”

“Ungrateful?” You ask, venom lacing into your next words. “Ungrateful that you abused us, barely managed to provide enough food and shelter to keep us alive? Oh wait, or is it that we both had to start working when we were old enough to pay the bills because you are a cocaine addict and always gambled away our rent money?”

He rears back like you have smacked him, and you smirk at him. Pride swells inside of you because you are still able to dig back at him. 

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”

“You are such a little shit. After everything you’ve done, you want to talk to me like this?”

“Everything I’ve done?” Your eyebrows raise, and your gaze hardens. “If I remember correctly, I almost ruined my future getting you out of debt with a drug dealer because you couldn’t pay for your cocaine habit.”

He shakes his head. “You started with him before my debt ever came up.”

You ignore his retort as the anger builds inside of you. “I’m not scared of you anymore. And I will be making damn sure JJ isn’t. You gave us nothing and took everything. This will be the last time you see me. You will never see him again. Not if I have any say.”

You begin to get to your feet and leave him, but he snaps and reaches out after jumping to his feet. He grabs your wrist tightly, yanking you against the table to keep you there.

“Who are you to walk away from me?!”

“Let. Me. Go.”

His grip tightens, and he yanks hard. You gasp, pain spreading up your arm and around your hips, as he tugs you harshly against the table’s edge.

“Inmate Maybank, let her go,” Peterkin orders from across the room. She and four other deputies are in the room along with the original set of guards. Several other inmates and their families look up to see what the commotion is about. Your cheeks redden as all the attention in the room shifts to you. “Let her go, now.”

“Not until she apologizes for being a brat!” He tightens his grip again, and you wince, body bowing from pain, curling away from him as he glares at you. His sole focus is on causing you the most pain he can now. “Apologize! I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all.” You spit at him and try to yank your arm back, but he only yanks you closer again. The upper half of your body practically pulled over the tabletop. “Big John did, The Cut did, you did nothing!”

“Let her go!” Peterkin demands louder, a taser lifted in his direction. “Luke, I will tase you right now if you do not.”

He lets you go and shoves you harshly away from him. You fall backward over the bench. You close your eyes tightly, ready to topple over, but a strong grip prevents you from crashing into the floor.

Deputy Thomas glares at Luke after he helps you back onto your feet, and you glance around, fighting the tears of humiliation. Peterkin steps up to your side and reaches for your wrist.

“I’m fine,” you whisper, carefully moving your wrist away from her reach.

“If you’re sure.”

You nod, turning your attention to your dad. You would not give him the satisfaction of seeing your crack under his aggression anymore. “I just need to say goodbye.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, and gestures for the other four to leave the room with her.

After they are gone, the attention seems to shift away from you both. You raise your chin and glare at him. “You might be my family, and I wish I could say I loved you. But I don’t. You are terrible, you’re horrible, and I hope that you rot in here,” you mutter as you rub your injured wrist. Tears sting your eyes, but you refuse to cry in front of him. You will hold it in until you get to your car. “Enjoy your time in prison.”

You leave him behind, and despite your hopes for him not to, he screams after you. Your name and profanities blend perfectly enough together to drag you back to your childhood.

Once you are in the safety of your car, you exhale, pressing your forehead to the steering wheel. Nails bite into your thighs when you grip your legs and try to calm your racing heart. Old tendencies ache to be unleashed so that you can take out the hurt brewing in you. To release it from under your skin. You nor JJ would ever come back to visit him. Not after today.

The tears brim over and streak down your face as you shiver at the reminders of childhood. Of that haunted look in his eyes as he assaulted you. It is the same look her had when he used to yell at you and abuse you because you were too much like your mom.

After getting control of yourself and trapping that damaged little girl back in her hiding hole, you head to Figure 8. A shift at the Island Club is the last thing you want to do, but it is what you have to do. Finding a parking spot is the first thing you do before you shut off the car and dig out a makeup remover wipe to use on your face with hopes to try and get rid of the tearstains on your cheeks, and that is when you notice it. A brilliant red mark is left from Luke’s grip on your wrist. You will bruise, just like you always do after he hurts you. And this one is a very public bruise, unable to be hidden by clothing because long sleeves during summer in a beach town would raise just as many questions.

“Welcome to chaos,” Summer greets you at the door of the girl's locker room when you emerge from changing into your Island Club uniform.

Confusion paints across your features, and you stare at her for a moment. “What chaos? It’s a Wednesday.”

“Lauren went out to deliver a drink to Mr. Beckett and hasn’t returned.”

“What?”

She nods, not impressed with the bartender’s actions. “And then Gerald went to find her, and he is missing too.”

“How long?” You ask as you tie your apron into place. Being down a bartender and a barback is not a good thing, especially when the backup is not due to arrive for another two hours.

“An hour nearly since Lauren went and fifteen since Gerald went.”

“And no one has seen them?”

She shakes her head, and you look at your watch.

“I have ten minutes to spare before I’m even allowed to touch the timecard system. I’m going to go look.”

“Please for the love of the ocean, come back when your shifts begins!” She begs, and you wave at her with a laugh as you jog to the golf course. The first mission, find Mr. Beckett, and maybe they are with him. If not, the second mission is to track them down. Sometimes the older guests could be demanding and promising a good tip if you stuck it out with them, which is the most likely reason that they have gone missing.

“Well, look who it is!”

You smile tightly when you see Kelce grinning at you and Topper not far behind him. “Hey, Kelce.”

He offers you a fist bump, and you take it, not wanting to start anything.

“Your boyfriend should be coming soon. Reese lost one of his golf clubs during a swing.”

You giggle, picturing him swinging the club, and it goes flying along with the ball.

“Right into the water hazard, it was glorious,” Topper supplies with a gloating grin. “What are you doing out here? Are you a cart girl today?”

“No, looking for Lauren and Gerald.”

Kelce shakes his head, looking around. “Haven’t seen them.”              

“They were helping Mr. Beckett.”

“Oh!” Kelce grins. “He’s out by the sixteenth hole.”

“Of course he is,” you frown, looking around for a staff member on a golf cart. “Thanks, Kelce!”

“Anytime.”

You wave at him and ignore Topper, who is grinning like the cat that ate the canary as you walk away. You shiver in disgust before climbing one of the grassy hills to see if you can spot them or a golf cart to temporarily use.

“What are you doing out here?”

You sigh, eyes closing briefly when it is Rafe that meets you at the top. Likely on his way to his two kook friends.

“Are you a cart girl now?”

“Nope. Just looking for two staff people.”

“Lauren and Gerald?”

You nod, squinting against the sun. “Have you seen them?”

“Sixteenth hole.”

You huff, kicking the toe of your shoe into the grass. “I’ve heard.” You plant your hands on your hips, judging if walking out there is worth being late and risking Summer having a panic attack. “I should’ve grabbed a golf cart.”

He smirks, squinting against the sun before he shifts his club to his other hand. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

Your attention snaps to him in surprise, and he shrugs, looking away.

“I was.”

The silence hangs for a second, and you reach up to fix your hair in an attempt to busy yourself. When you had dated, Rafe always had a way of knowing when you had been crying, even if you redid your makeup to cover it up. You never could figure out how he knew when no one else ever did.

“Have anything to do with the mark on your wrist?”

Another huff escapes you, and you turn your attention back to him. “You are too observant, you know.”

“I know you.”

“You used to,” you amend, closing your eyes briefly. “I went to the detention center, saw my dad.”

“And?”

“And he grabbed me,” you shrug before taking a step past him. The conversation is turning in a direction that you would rather not have with him. “Just like old times.”

He groans, shaking his head. “Why’d you go?”

“To see if he was getting out soon.”

“And?”

You bite your lip and look at him, tipping your head. “Why do you care?”

He stares at you, his gaze hardening by the second. “Forget it, Maybank. Enjoy your walk.” He turns his back to you and walks away, and you notice the hard tension in his shoulders and the way his neck has a slight red hue to it. Kelce and Topper joke with him loud enough that you can hear them, and it answers whether the walk is worth it or not for you. You would much rather make the walk than have to pass that trio again to get back to the clubhouse.

You spot Mav and Reese once you are clear of the next dune. Reese’s shorts are damp from wading into the water hazard, but he seems happy from what you can tell.

“Hey!” Reese grins, hugging you before Mav can. “What are you doing out here?”

You smile at him, patting his shoulders, and he drops you onto your feet. You shake your head at him as you hug Mav, sinking into his chest that you have found someone you want to be near. “I heard someone lost a club to a water hazard...”

Mav laughs as Reese rolls his eyes, grumbling about his misfortune.

“Kidding,” you laugh while staying pressed to Mav’s side. “Hunting two stray staff members.”

“Want me to walk with you?” Mav asks, his hand tightening around yours.

You shake your head. “I think I’ve got it. Enjoy golfing. I’ll see you later though, okay?”

Reese grins, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “She coming to the cookout tonight?”

Mav groans, shaking his head. “I hadn’t asked her yet.”

“My bad,” Reese mumbles before shrugging. “Ask her now. See you later, y/n.”

“Later,” you laugh as he runs off, unfazed by his slip-up. You turn to Mav and frown at the defeated look on his face. “It’s fine, Mav. I can play dumb if you want.”

He shakes his head and widens his stance to allow himself to be closer to your height. His lips brush your forehead. “Will you come to my family’s cookout tonight?”

Your eyes widen a bit at the realization. “Like meet your parents?”

He shrugs. “They’ll be there.”

“But…” Your mouth goes dry.

“They know about you already if that is your concern.”

“Ah,” you murmur before looking off over the visible parts of the course and the ocean at the edge. “Then yes, I will come.”

“Yeah?” He asks, happiness spreading through him as he cups your face with both hands.

You nod before leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. “I’d love to.”

“Good!” He smiles, and you run your fingers up his forearms to his hands. “Now that we have that out of the way, I have another question.”

“Go for it.”

“Have you been crying?”

The serotonin boost is temporary as you deflate and huff again. “Maybe.”

“Why?”

“Rough morning.”

His lips press into a line, and he gently lifts your marked wrist. “Have something to do with this?”

“Also, maybe.”

“What happened?”

You exhale and try to ignore the sadness as you watch him examine your wrist. “Nothing major. I’m okay, I promise.”

He frowns, his touch gentle as he flips your wrist over to inspect the inside of your wrist. “You can tell me, you know. It’s part of how dating works…” He looks at you with a teasing tilt to his lips, but you can see the concern in his eye. His attention shifts back to your injury, head bending over your wrist to inspect it further. “You don’t have to lie for my benefit, y/n. I like you, all of you.”

You blush a little and carefully pull your wrist from his hands. “Okay, truth then...” You fidget with your fingers for a second before meeting his gaze again. “I went to visit my dad in jail. He’s awaiting trial, and I went to see if there is a possibility he would get released anytime soon.”

“Is he?”

“No.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Mav attempts to read you.

“Good. If he gets out, then I can’t stay here.”

He frowns. “Why not?”

“It’s a long story.” You murmur, glancing back at the clubhouse. You are late now and likely sending Summer into a spiral. “But he used to abuse me. It is one of the many reasons I had to move away a few years ago.”

Mav nods before clearing his throat. “I can keep you safe, you know. So you can stay…”

You smile, stepping into his space. “Thank you, but I’m safe with him in jail. And I’m staying… some people need me here.”

Mav smiles at you. “Good.”

You smile at him, dragging your hand over his arm. "Now that we have caught up and I've agreed to meet your parents, I need to go find my coworkers, okay?"

He smiles before leaning in and kissing you. You kiss him back before patting his waist and starting the trek out to the sixteenth hole.

(Chapter Seven)

[thenightling]

How Morpheus pays his servants

Every so often I come across Sandman fans who joke (or are serious) that Morpheus does not pay his servants, that they are secretly his slaves.  They’ll even all him a hypocrite when he tells Hob Gadling that it’s a poor thing to hold another in bondage. Let me state, Morpheus IS against slavery.  In The Sandman: Season of Mists Titania ”gave” Morpheus Nuala as a gift as a bit of a trap.  She knew Morpheus fairly well. She must have known he he feels about slavery.  If Morpheus refused the gift the fae could “take offense” and go to war, an excuse to try to take the key to Hell from Morpheus.  And if he did keep her, it rids Titania of a potential annoyance.  In some fae lore Nuala was the name of a fae Oberon had interest in. When Morpheus is given Nuala he is reluctant to accept. Finally he allows her to stay.  He never gives her any commands but he removes her glamour.  Though it was initially against her will, Morpheus’s removal of the glamour actually did Nuala a favor. Nuala’s people are very conformist and they all wear glamours, hiding their true forms to look ‘as beautiful as possible.”  What Morpheus did was teach Nuala to appreciate who she is without conforming to what her society had demanded of her for her whole life. It can be seen as a trans metaphor, especially when, later in the story Nuala shows in the fae court without her glamour on and it nearly causes a scandal but she decides she prefers her true self rather than what her society wants of her. Morpheus never gave Nuala any orders. She went about cleaning within the castle to give herself something to do.  But despite this Morpheus repaid her service with a boon.  A boon being any favor (within reason) that she might want, should she call upon him.  Not only that, but as a bonus, Morpheus rescued her brother from imprisonment while Nuala was still working for him.  Morpheus makes it very clear he saved Cluracaun for Nuala’s sake. Though he does not use money, Morpheus DOES pay his servants in Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman.

Here are some examples as to how Morpheus pays his servants.   Cain and Abel = Morpheus gave them each a magical haunted house that is bigger on the inside and full of stories, ghosts, and monsters, to fit their spooky inclinations and desires.  The houses are somewhat sentient too and they gain caretakers to look after them, make repairs, and keep things up and running. It’s a win for everyone involved.

In the Netflix Sandman series both gargoyles, Gregory and Goldie, were actually given as gifts to Cain and Abel instead of Goldie being a gift to Abel from Cain like he was in the comics.     

Lucien / Lucienne is revealed in the comics to have been the first raven. In the story called The Hunt we see that Lucien can still take raven form at will. Lucien loves books. So how was Lucien paid?  Lucien was given a new elfish form (taller even than Morpheus) and the largest library in the multiverse.  And status as second in command in The Dreaming.  That’s a pretty nice payment for services rendered. Aristeas the Raven is based on an actual myth where he was the raven of apollo. Aristeas was a real Greek poet who supposedly became a raven after his death to serve the God Apollo.  This ties into the running gag in The Sandman of people mistaking Morpheus as Apollo.  After two hundred years of service Aristeas decided he didn’t want to serve Morpheus anymore and he was offered a boon.  He chose becoming a mortal man again but he soon found that he could not adjust to the mortal world after having been away from it for two centuries so he asked to return to being a raven.   It’s unclear where he is now. John Constantine / Johanna Constantine was paid by having their nightmares dealt with.  There’s also the possibility that Morpheus may have rescued Constantine’s soul from self-made damnation since Jon Constantine tends to believe he’s going to Hell and has made some bad decisions / bargains as a result.  In a Hellblazer comic it’s pretty much confirmed that Jack Constantine, Johanna (eighteenth century version) and John Constantine were all the same soul just reincarnated into the same bloodline. For John Constantine Morpheus also helped Rachel to die peacefully in a pleasant dream since there was no saving her (in the comic it was implied she was actually already dead and rotting. The sand was the only thing keeping her semi-alive / her soul tethered to her body.)      His usual method of payment though is a boon.  So I think I’ve made my point here. Yes, Morpheus does pay those who serve him and he never forces anyone to do anything against their will (unless you count him telling The Corinthian not to kill people...)

[hebuiltfive]

In The Stars, Chapter Three: The Gift

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALAN TRACY!

It’s Alan’s nineteenth birthday. He’s home early for Spring Break. After re-discovering the journals, he eventually decides to give them back to Jeff to read, just as he had planned on doing all those years before.

AO3 link here Chapter One: AO3 | Tumblr Chapter Two: AO3 | Tumblr

Content warnings for swearing.

-----------------------------------------------------

Occasionally, the universe was open to making bargains. Sometimes, the bargain that was made was easy. Other times, it was more challenging. Either way, the universe would, when willing, offer up impossible rewards in return to those who helped make the universe a better place.

That was what Alan had come to believe, anyway. After so many close calls and near misses, after so many rescue missions where he, and his family, had risked their lives to save others, it made sense for them to finally be rewarded with the largest prize the universe could have offered them.

Jeff Tracy’s return was no easy feat. Often, when Alan called in from college, his father looked frail, but he was gradually getting his strength back. These things took time, as the doctors had continued to tell the boys. Scott had been impatient, and for once, Alan had tried to not be like his older brother.

Being away at college helped a little. Though frail, Dad looked better on a video call than he did in person in those first few months. Seeing him less ill made Alan’s life a little easier. He could focus better on his studies and not have to worry about the treatment his father was going through. Although his health was improving day-by-day — he didn’t even need the walking stick anymore — Alan sometimes felt guilty that he had left for college so soon after Jeff had returned home. A quick word with any of his brothers, however, and that doubting part of his mind was soon kept at bay.

Just as Dad was now back where he belonged, so too was Alan in Colorado.

Continue reading on AO3 here

[thecameronchronicles]

The Tutor

TW: Smut. Language. Praise Kink. 

SUMMARY: Your summer job gives you more than you bargained for as you catch Ward’s eye as Wheezie’s tutor. 

WORD COUNT: 900

REQUESTED

Anonymous asked:

I don’t know if you write Ward fics but could you do one where he fucks wheezies tutor?

The Tutor

Working for the Cameron's was a prestigious position no matter what it was for. Their name on any resume would prompt you into further success in any future hiring. Mowed their lawn? You could own your own company by the end of the week with the support of someone like Ward Cameron behind you. But all you had done it for was a few extra bucks for the summer, tutoring his daughter, Wheezie, completely unaware that you were unprepared for what the job would truly entail. 

Academics came effortlessly to you, however, which made this nearly easy money. You didn't have to worry about being tongue tied or frustrated as Wheezie accepted you as a role model as she had drifted away from her own sister since she moved away to college. And with only an unmotivated older brother who was constantly locked away in his room or somewhere spending his daddy's money, you were often left with only the youngest Cameron. 

But you couldn't help but notice how Ward would choose to work from home whenever you were around. It had begun a few hours spent in his office, and then where he would take full days off to take you on The My Druthers after study sessions as you both discussed Wheezie's progress from a C minus to a low A. But you quickly began to feel his attention was from something else entirely. Such attention that made you feel sheepish to any hug or handshake offered, even the glide of the cash payments tracing your skin at the end of the week. 

For this, your own efforts were subject to change. The lackluster bun that usually sat at the top of your head was now curated into loose curls. The outfits that consisted of jeans and tees were now more delicate and feminine, showing off your body in a way that was still appropriate around Wheezie. But it was enough to make him shameless in the way his eyes fell over you. 

"Can you come to my office to discuss the schedule for next week?" Ward asked as Wheezie was working on her algebraic equations in following your hints and clues to figure out those very problems. 

"Yes, Mister Cameron?" You heard the door close softly at your back as he began walking slowly towards you. Each word he spoke, leading you to the edge of his desk. 

"You're a very hard worker. Always on time. Always doing your job so perfectly...." He paused for a second. "And you're such a beautiful young woman, too...but I think someone should take care of you..." His hand cupped your hip, riding slowly up your curves, before settling on your breast. 

"Would you want that, sweetheart?" Your lips parted to speak, but you could only agree with a nod. 

"But we have to be quiet...don't want to disrupt her studies now, do we?" You smirked before he lifted you onto the surface of his desk, your legs taken over his shoulders. 

"Mister Cameron..." You whimpered breathlessly as he smirked against your thighs kissing it sweetly, before shaking his head. 

"Be my good, quiet, girl for right now, okay?" You nodded, gripping through his hair before he returned into you. 

"Dad, have you seen my tutor? She just up and disappeared…" Wheezie groaned in annoyance as your eyes suddenly flashed to the clock on his desk to realize what time had lapsed. But as Ward rose, fingers replacing his tongue inside of you, he bent them perfectly as his other hand wrapped around your mouth. 

"Still my good girl?" You nodded, eyes screwing closed. 

"I had her run somewhere for me, sweetie." 

"It's been like an hour? Where did you send her?" Wheezie whined. "Nassau?!" 

"I'm sure she is gonna come soon." He looked at you for validation as you nodded quickly, a pout forming beneath his palm as he grinned. 

"Real soon..." 

Hearing Wheezie's departures steps let you breathe a sigh of relief as his hand was removed. 

"Please, Mister Cameron..." His hand came around your neck as he stationed himself in a tease between your legs. 

"Gotta keep this between us, alright, my sweet girl?" You nodded. "Don't want anyone else to know how you feel..." 

Your back arched as he pulled you back into him. 

"But I want to hear you beg real pretty for me, sweetheart...I've imagined it since you first sat at my table and every moment since. So make it real sweet for me..." 

"Please Mister Cameron...fuck me..." This was all it took to have you in a bend. His motions quick but deep, through, all while his hands rode up the lines of your curves and into a rest at your hair. 

"I am expecting you to wait for me after your lessons with her. You tell anyone else about this or make a sound then it won't bode well for you. You keep being being good girl and you'll come, fuck, you'll squirt for me, every goddamn time...." 

"Mister Cameron!" You gasped. 

"I'll take care of you-" 

"I'm gonna come!" 

"Every. Time." You expelled around him, contractions of your sex bringing him to his release as he held you in place. 

"I want you back here when you're done. This time, I won't have to rush..." Your eyes widened. 

This was rushing?! 

He kisses you softly and adjusted your attire, mention how you were a good girl, before he set you on your way, as if you could focus on anything but the fact you'd just been fucked by Ward Cameron….

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @bethoconnor

[lemonidae]

Taboo BL Manga

Kaori no Keishou (The Inheritance of Aroma) by Nakamura Asumiko

Two adopted brothers, a forbidden love, and a lifelong conflict are the essence of this shocking story. Although Shinobu Hiraki is his brother, they are not related by blood. Takezo became a member of the Hiraki family after his mother married the head of the family, but his new older brother seems to hate him. Shinobu looks at him with eyes filled with deep disgust and hatred, but Takezo can't help but desire him in return. One night, giving in to his lust, Takezo sneaks into his brother's bedroom. He uses his sister-in-law's perfume and covers Shinobu's eyes with a blindfold, hiding his identity to fulfill his most twisted desires...

Status: 2 Volumes (complete)

Tagged: Adult, Drama, Psychological, Tragedy, Yaoi, Adultery, Angst, Blindfold, Incest, Dubcon, Rape etc...

Tourou no Ori (Mantis Cage) by Psyche Delico

It takes place during the Showa Era in Japan. The story revolves around a young man who has lost both his mother and father. Now, the only person he has that he can rely on is his butler who has been working for the family. However, his father had a secret he was hiding. This secret reveals itself after his demise.

Status: 5 Volumes + extras (Complete)

Tagged: Drama, Psychological, Tragedy, Yaoi, Adultery, Master-Servant Relationship, Grooming, Rape etc...

MadK by Suzuri Ryo

Makoto has long been ostracized because of his odd hobbies and a sexual kink others would see as disgusting. One day he finds a book on summoning demons and manages to summon the intimidatingly beautiful and rather chatty Archduke J. The demon offers to grant Makoto's deepest twisted desire in exchange for his life. Once Makoto has sated his demented appetites, he fulfills his end of the bargain, only to find he's been reborn as a monster…in hell!

Status: 3 Volumes (Complete)

Tagged: Adult, Drama, Horror, Mature, Psychological, Supernatural, Tragedy, Yaoi, Blood, Gore, Prostitution, Cannibalism, Demons, Ero-Guro erc...

Venus ni Seppun by Sadahiro Mika

Toma and Miyako were raised in the same orphanage. From the moment they met, Miyako has been unable to repress the impulse to soil Toma's beautiful hands. What awaits the two who wound each other and lick each other's wounds!? Sequel: Shinkai no Venus (1 volume)

Status: 1 Volume (Complete)

Tagged: Adult, Drama, Yaoi, Amputee, Dependency, Fetish, Sadism, Voyeurism, Violence etc...

Heartless by Nishin Masumi

A beautiful “incubus” luring humans with his looks and eating them lives in the present age. With him lives his “lover,” a man called Manuel. Before the two living quietly in the woods, appears a self-entitled heresy hunting cult… Drawn with overwhelming reality, a never-before experienced survivor horror BL.

Status: 1 Volume (Complete)

Tagged: Adult, Horror, Mature, Supernatural, Tragedy, Yaoi, Demon, Violence, Rape, Guro etc...

Umi no Soko (The Bottom of the Sea) by Jnnkleche

Living in a seaside village, Wakashio is secretly in love with Yakaze, a member of the forest tribe. As the youngest son of the chieftain, Wakashio is living a difficult life, and spending time with Yakaze is the only solace he can find. However, when his brother discovers their relationship, Yakaze is killed. Just when Wakashio sinks into despair, Yakaze returns in a different form. With pale skin and red eyes, he may look like a monster, but his heart remains unchanged. The two still love each other as they once did, and begin to search for a way to live together.

Status: 1 Volume (Complete)

Tagged: Adult, Romance, Supernatural, Tragedy, Yaoi, Body Horror, Monster, Rape, Incest, Tentacle, Violence etc...

[skylarmoon71]

Timeless Wells (Flash) - Speedster Chapter 10

It’s hard integrating into another universe. When you were stuck at Star Labs it was more about survival. A part of you expected everyone to look at you the way Barry did. 

A greeting you received this morning had caught you off guard. You can’t remember the last time someone has smiled at you so kindly. Even if they were just serving coffee. You take the bill from the woman, nodding your head as you walk out briskly. 

Harrison has pretty much given you free range to do what you want. He’d offered his home to you, but there was something unsettling about being with him like that. Almost like you’re waiting for him to turn on you. 

So after much convincing, you’d bargained to sleep in Star Labs extra rooms until you could make enough money to support yourself. He was against it at first, but he never pushed, which you respected. 

He wasn’t trying to force anything, you know that in the back of your mind. He’s kind. 

Honest. 

But your mind won’t give you the satisfaction of letting your guard down. You lecture yourself not to get too comfortable. Exiting the shop, you don’t expect to see him casually standing outside. 

“Good morning.” 

You’re a bit tense, and you nod. 

“I thought I’d meet you and we could discuss your integration as a hero in this society.” 

“I’m not going to be a hero.” 

You’ve already gone down that road once. You have no interest in doing it again. Harrison walks in step with you, making small hand gestures as he tries to make a case. Your eyes drift over the people as you pass by. 

It’s crazy just how different these earths are, yet so similar. Maybe that’s where your heistance comes from. The fact that you keep seeing your mistakes played back to you no matter where you end up. It’s like a record that continues to reset on the same song, just a different version each time. 

“You’re only saying that because you don’t see the bigger picture. I already told you, you’re destined for greatness. You just haven't seen it yet.” 

You aren’t sure if he’s naive or just simply delusional. Nothing good could ever come of you trying to save lives. Not after what has already happened. You don’t get why he doesn’t see that. He’s like a ball of hope and enthusiasm and it’s a little off putting. 

“Did you forget what I did? I blew up a power grid. I could have killed so many people. Just like my brother did. There’s nothing great about us Thawnes. We’re all monsters. It’s in our blood. I was stupid to think otherwise. “

You click a button to cross the street. Your eyes stay focused on the light, and Harrison looks as though he’s about to further argue his point. Your gaze spots a ball in the distance. It rolls into the road, and you’re shocked when a boy follows it out. The light is still green, and you don’t see a parent or guardian running to his aid. 

Your heart feels as though it’s stopped. 

Everything else around you has. It’s maybe a gut reaction, but your legs move before your brain fully catches up. 

The bodies around all move slower than you are, and you grab the boy by his arm, just at the last second, pulling him down. Your feet skate, and the boy stumbles as the car’s tire screeches to a stop. 

Time returns to normal and you’re breathing heavily. You hear a mother calling for her son and she practically tackles him into a hug. She’s crying and laughing as she looks over, thanking you. Harrison’s eyes shift in your direction, and it doesn’t take long for him to put together what just happened. There’s a bit of a stand still in the street. People are gathering around to view the commotion. 

Harrison makes his way across to you. When he’s right in front of you, he smiles. 

He doesn’t say anything, you can read the expression on his face. 

He does enjoy being right.

[venusimi]

Under a million stars: Take me back to the night we met

(REDO OF THE SERIES "Let's love again") > "Take me back to the night we met" - Lord Huron > Mammon x OC (Tabitha), (Past) Mammon x mc > You/yours & she/her > Death, mourning, angst with a sad ending, crying, regrets

Mammon is the lord of greed. The second oldest brother. He is strong, his strength surpasses that of Leviathan, the third. He's loud, greedy, and rarely ever keeps his promises. He's a thief and spends far too much money.

Everything everyone says about him is true, except the part where he cried the loudest. In fact, he was the most quiet. The day of your death, he did not cry. He did not scream. He stood there motionless, silently hoping you'd return like you did before.

Everyone says he immediately ran to gamble, but that's not true. He stayed in his room and if he wasn't there, he's at lord Diavolo's castle on his knees willingly offering his entire being just to be with you again and yet the demon just shook his head and left the lord of greed to mourn with no tears, he bargained with witches, and made pacts with anyone that he thinks can revive you.

It was all fruitless.

They said it was impossible, but how would they know? They haven't tried.

So he went to another witch...

"Revive someone? I-I can't do that! That's an impossible task, no witch can achieve such great feat. Even if there was... I doubt he'd be willing to revive someone who had died in peace."

The witch had told him. Funnily enough, she looked like you. Her hair was similar to yours, only it had been in a different color and shade. Her eyes was exactly yours. Her eyes shone brightly like yours would. It was breathtaking.

What was her name again? Tammy? No, that's a different witch. Taser? That's a defensive items humans own for safety, it doesn't work on demons though. Oh! Tabitha. That was her name.

It was pain having to hear the same words, and yet he kept enduring it all in hopes for good news.

He spent weeks on the streets searching for someone who can save you, he hadn't gone to Barbatos because he knows that the reality is... You're dead. And he can't bring you back.

But, he tried anyways.

"Barbatos. Please, I know you can-"

"I can't."

A quick and easy shut down. A simple "I can't" spoke so many unsaid words.

He can't accept the rational solution: acceptance, and chose to deny all truth in hopes it's all a mere bad dream that he was unfortunate enough to be stuck in.

At some point in time, he desperately pleaded his father up above to bring you back. To allow him a bit more time to at least say goodbye.

He had begged Lucifer to put him in a sleep where he can meet you.

He had begged Leviathan, lord Diavolo... Everyone he can talk irrationally to. And yet, he was met with the exact same response each and every time.

"MC isn't coming back. Let her rest, she would've wanted you to be happy."

...

It hurt.

Did you know that?

Did you know that when you left him to hold your body one last time, it broke him in ways that felt impossible?

His room was dark, and devoid of life other than his own.

On his knees with his hands clasped together, and his most gentle soft voice, he whispers a prayer.

Can't you believe that?

A demon, praying?

Unheard of.

But if it's for you, he's willing to defy all odds and endure the burning flame that burned his entire body.

"Father... Take me back to the night I met her...

Please."

[lailyn]

A Face In The Crowd, Ch 6

Mobius' swift return was met with both relief and disbelief; to their collective surprise, Judge Renslayer had given the go ahead without so much as an argument. 

“How in the world did you get Renslayer to say yes?” Vincent asked suspiciously. 

“Nice to know you had so much confidence in me, Doc,” Mobius said. “Bargaining is a tool y’all need to learn. It comes in handy sometimes.”

“You bargained, huh?" Vincent snorted. "What did you give away? Hope you didn’t offer her a kidney or something.”

“Nah, I’m saving up Loki’s kidneys for hopefully something bigger in the future,” Mobius said coolly. “All she wants is a front seat to the whole thing.”

Vincent’s eyebrows rose to meet his hairline. “She wants to watch me at work? That’s new.”

“I didn’t even have to twist her arm," Mobius said with a shrug. "She just said to knock yourself out. Maybe she’s warming up to you at last. You have given us some good results in the past.”

“Well, it is about time I get some recognition for my genius,” Vincent agreed wholeheartedly.

“You don’t look too happy,” Mobius said, finally noticing the frown on Loki’s face. 

“I find it a bit suspect how easily it went, that’s all,” Loki said. “Do you think it’s a good idea to have her sit in?” 

“It’s not like we have a lot of say in the matter,” Mobius said. “And this wouldn't be the first time we’ve allowed the prisoners temporary access to their powers.” 

“That is true, we do it sometimes for research purposes,” Vincent said, backing up Mobius’ claim. “And your magic will be limited to the manipulation of basic physiological parameters, like your internal homeostasis and thermoregulation to name a few so you can adapt to the harsh environment you’d expect to encounter on Mount Everest.”

Loki made a sound of dismay. “Are you serious?”

“We’re not a bunch of idiots, Loki,” Mobius said. "Giving you full rein of your magic when the last Variant who executed a spectacular jailbreak happened to be a Loki? It's never gonna happen."

"I don't know if I should feel proud or insulted," Loki muttered.

"How about grateful? This is your chance to get into the TVA's good graces," Mobius said. “Pull this off and maybe we’ll keep you around.”

"Grateful," Loki echoed in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "How very kind of you to say that, when I'm the one doing you a favour."

"I'm always grateful for you, Loki," Mobius said with an easy smile. "Thanks to you, I will always have a job."

_________________________________

“I’ve seen this before.”

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it?” Vincent said. “We lifted the design off the detention cell on board the Helicarrier. You know, the one you trapped your dear brother in. You should feel right at home.”

Loki knocked on the glass lightly with his knuckles. “Will it hold?"

"It's an upgraded version. We've used it to subdue a Thor variant or two. If it could contain your brother, I'm sure it could contain you," Vincent said absently. 

“Your taunts do not bother me,” Loki said, though his glare clearly said otherwise. “Get in with me, if you dare.”

Vincent’s smile turned savage. “That sounds like a proposition.”

“Mobius was right,” Loki said flatly. “You work too much. You see subtext in everything.”

“Word of advice, we don’t project our loneliness here at the TVA, Loki.”

Loki snorted loudly, but said nothing.

"Talking about my work, I do not see it as a flaw. I see it as having a purpose," Vincent said. "Without purpose, what good are we?"

"Having a purpose is important when you have a short shelf life, I suppose. It doesn't really apply to me, I'm either going to die very soon, or live longer than any of you."

Ever the reader between the lines, Vincent proceeded to ask, "Are you afraid?"

"Of dying?" 

"How very simplistic," Vincent said. "Let's not kid ourselves. You meant to die when you took that arrow."

The silence that followed stretched the seconds into painful minutes, poignant and heavy.

"Does Mobius know?" Loki asked quietly.

"He does now," Vincent said. "I told him."

Loki remained unusually impassive. "Of course you did." 

Vincent let out a frustrated sigh, earning him a sharp look from Loki. 

"You’re being really annoying right now," Loki growled. "Spit it out, why don’t you? What are you trying to imply?" 

"Appreciate being alive? Just a suggestion,” Vincent said.

What followed was another soul-crushing pause of agonising silence.

"How can I, Doctor?" Loki questioned gently. "I lack purpose."

"That's not true," Vincent said swiftly. "Purpose doesn't have to be altruistic or life-defining. It can be as simple as wanting to live another day to listen to your favourite song or engage in banter with your sworn enemy."

"Something to live for, one day at a time."

"That's exactly right."

"That is so sad," Loki said. He pressed his face against the impenetrable glass barrier again, but this time there was a fire in his expression that had not been there before.

"You just found one, didn't you?"

"Yes," Loki said, eyes glinting with excitement. "I'm going to burn this place to the ground."

Vincent nodded nonchalantly as though he had been expecting such an answer all along. "Start with my office. I've been asking for an ergonomic work desk for ages."

_____________________________________

The day of the experiment could not come soon enough, but now, standing inside the temperature chamber with so many eyes watching, Loki could feel his confidence waver. 

His reluctance must be written all over his face, for Mobius to see it from where he was observing up on the viewing deck.

"You survived the cold of outer space, this should be an easy ride for you." Mobius' voice crackled through the intercom.

"For the millionth time, it is not the temperature that is the problem, it is altitude," Vincent muttered. "I pray for the day when communicating scientific concepts to non-science people stops being so tedious."

"Can we proceed?" Judge Renslayer's razor-sharp voice cut in. "Some of us don't have all day."

"Let the record show this is Doctor Vincent Strange, Personnel Number S616, Chief Medical Officer of the TVA. I will be overseeing the High Altitude Simulation Study today on subject Variant L1130." Vincent looked at the silent figure sitting cross-legged in the cell. "L1130, do you consent?"

Loki rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "Now you ask me."

"Od - " Vincent caught himself, acutely aware of the distrustful eyes watching his every move. "Laufeyson."

"Yes, yes, I consent," Loki said, waving a hand. "Not that it matters."

"He likes to talk, this one," Mobius said, amused. 

Ravonna's reply was hostile and sinister. "He won't be talking for long. Doctor Strange, get on with it."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Vincent sighed. He cleared his throat loudly. "It is now fourteen hundred Sacred Timeline time, and the test will commence - ” he pressed the start button. “Now.”

Frigid air and snow blew in through the vents into the chamber, and the atmospheric pressure began to drop with each increment on the altimeter.

It did not take long before the first signs of hypothermia set in. Ice clung to Loki's eyelashes and hair, and the tips of his fingers as well as his nose turned an alarming dusky colour.

Vincent spoke into the intercom, "How are you doing, L1130?"

"P-peachy," Loki managed a laugh despite shivering uncontrollably. "How is it l-looking from all the way down there?"

"Your body core temperature has now decreased by 15%. You should be feeling it in a minute or two."

"Oh, I am feeling it right now," Loki gritted through chattering teeth. He tried coaxing his ice magic to life, but it was like attempting to swim against a rip current; the more he tried to get to the shore, the further the tide pulled him out to sea. 

Vincent silently counted the rise and fall of Loki's chest. "Respiratory rate is elevated at sixty breaths per minute."

"There is still time," Ravonna purred.

Vincent could hear the smile in her voice, and it sickened him to the core. He tried again. "Judge Renslayer, the subject's oxygenation saturation is approaching hypoxic level, you have to deactivate the limiters now."

Loki's face twisted in agony as he clenched his chest, vapour escaping from his blue-tinged lips with each desperate gasp for breath. 

As his lungs began to fill with fluid, blood frothed at the corner of his mouth. He banged his fist against the glass, growing visibly weaker with each passing second.

Vincent could see Mobius yelling at Renslayer, gesticulating wildly with his hands, but the judge simply stood with a smug smile on her face. 

This was a power struggle, one that Renslayer was clearly winning.

Hanging onto the last tethers of consciousness, Loki peered through the glass, and his glazed eyes met Vincent's. 

Gone was the centuries worth of pain and fury that personified Loki from the day they met. All that remained was sadness, and…fear.

Are you afraid of dying?

It was only then that Vincent realised, he never did hear the answer from Loki's mouth. 

I don't want to go, the watery green eyes pleaded, Not like this.

It was warm outside the chamber, but Vincent felt the chill all the same, collecting at the base of his spine like an icy finger running down his back. 

Loki's eyes fluttered to a close.

Through a haze of red and muffled voices, Vincent threw himself over the controls and his fingers flew over the keys, entering the codes required to bring the experiment to a halt.

The howling gales persisted despite his frantic commands, and Loki's vital signs continued to plummet. 

As the blaring of the alarms reached a deafening clamour, Vincent looked up at the observation window, where Ravonna was standing, gloating. 

Mobius was no longer by her side; he must have made his way down by now. True enough, the sounds of banging and shouting from the door soon joined the cacophony.

There was only one thing left to do. If Vincent could not bring the wretched experiment to a halt…he could override the magic limiters. He knew the codes, being one of the handful of people in the TVA who did.

Yes, he could return Loki's magic, and ensure that one of them would live. 

After this stunt, there was no way Vincent would not pay with his life.

What are you doing? He screamed internally.

Primum non nocere. Do no harm.

Loki was unconscious now, his frostbitten digits twitching in the artificial snow.

Vincent pressed his hand onto the palm print reader, authorisation from the higher ups be damned -

The collar around Loki's neck disengaged, and the detention cell imploded in a burst of bright green light.  

__________________________________

"Mobius…"

"Shhh. Don't try to speak." Mobius pressed the oxygen mask over Loki's face, "Just breathe."

"Vincent?"

"Vincent's been...detained."

Loki's bruised lungs seized at the news, and a series of painful, wet coughs wracked his body.

"I'll take care of it." Mobius' soft tone hardened. "I'll take care of it."