#The Doctor cured the pits after all

[nelkcats]

Ghost Doctor

Danny became the new underground Gotham's doctor, unlike Dr.Leslie he treats anyone as long as they're willing to find him (and it is hard if is not the right time) and pay the price.

This may sound extremely sinister but the reality was that Danny was not interested in money; he was already King of a dimension and his funds were not going to run out while he was on vacations.

The treatments vary, along with the reviews, but this is due to the prices he give. When Danny treated the Joker, the clown ended up shaking and almost regretting his actions, falling into a laugh full of madness (Danny's price was simple: Face the same thing you put your victims through)

But when Dr. Freeze knocked on his door, tearfully begging to treat Nora, Danny cured her, his price being a smile and a plea "Live happily with your wife for as long as you can."

With all the knowledge that Frostbite teach him combined with Clockwork showing him all human advances on the future (is not illegal if your ghost parent show you) he rented a warehouse and with the help of some ghosts he dig a hole the same size as the warehouse but meters underground, after that he used his powers and sinked it directly into the hole; he developed all his machinery there, turning it into a Bunker that he was the only one who could access.

Therefore, Danny was a mystery, a danger, his prices were varied and he treated anyone: villain, hero, anti-hero, mafia, criminals, innocents, metas, etc. but your values ​​and actions were what whispered your charge and not even an extremely high amount of money would convince him of giving you a different treatment.

Of course, when Jason jokingly visited him asking to cure the pits (He knew it had no cure), his slightest hope was rewarded when the Doctor simply smiled and accepted (His price? A date).

[colourstreakgryffin]

*holds hands out for alms*

Reincarnation content where wife!s/o of Muzan who cared and loved him during his sickly heian days (who died either natural causes / accident, and he didn't get to appreciate her enough and is kind of an a-hole at that time) reborn as a hashira? And he stumbles upon her?

*coughs aggressively* i need bittersweet pining Muzan to cure my desperation

Wooowwww! I like this idea so much! This is actually very cool and I absolutely love this! Once again, thank you all for this incredible concepts! Muzan is quite the common powerhouse for this blog so let’s give him more attention

Kibutsuji Muzan- Loop-Around

Muzan knows those eyes too well… those beautiful, colourful eyes on a woman so pretty and loving. The flashbacks, the memories, the tragedy and the anger he feels over his past. Over his own failure and his own mistakes over what he did during Heian Era, during his life as a human. Those awful, painful drawn-out days where all he could do was sit in a bed and watch people come in and out of his room

The person who arrived the most was his assigned wife, Dokusha. A kind, patient, sophisticated woman of wealth, and she always spent so much time to take care of and love Muzan, all whilst looking around for the right medicine to cure his terminal illness. Muzan, during this time, couldn’t care less for that woman. She was just a useful tool to make him comfortable, feel validated and save his life but through the weeks, as he grew even weaker, he got real tired of waiting to be rescued by so many incompetents.

When he gotten given a type of medicine that worked, that odd concoction from a rather viable doctor you had bought in for Muzan, and when it shaped him into the first ever demon. He could finally walk for the first time in his life

And he walked out of that room… in perfect health, with razor sharp fangs, with a blood-thirst for human flesh, with his muscles clenching and strong. However, as he explored. He ended up finding something else as tragic as what he caused to his rescuer. His assigned wife mauled to death by wild Ussuri Brown bears in the forest, all whilst clearly trying to find absolutely any medicinal herbs that could possibly do anything to save Muzan

Muzan never really appreciated nor cared for Dokusha, he didn’t see her as much of a person and whilst he looked at the mangled body of that woman… he felt… almost nothing. It wasn’t disgust but it also wasn’t anger, it was just… emptiness and after that day. He suspected he would never see a human woman named Dokusha ever again, foolishly unaware of the fact he truly did love Dokusha and truly did feel a deep pit of misery-fuelled fury at her death. She did so much for him and he did nothing for her

Even after learning the fatal accident that caused her death was entirely centred around trying to recover Muzan from his birth sickness

Currently as the high and mighty Demon King, the first ever Demon in existence. Kibutsuji Muzan, has been confronted by the newest Hashira of the Demon Slayer Corps in Asakusa, the Tashio Era when walking back to his ‘family’, and she has the eyes and the voice of his real wife. 10,000 years after her death, she’s back in a entirely new form and just knowing his dead wife has been reincarnated as his moral enemy is making Muzan’s undead heart throb in pain and outrage. Why does he feel this way looking into this Hashira’s eyes?

10,000 years after her death and now, Muzan has finally realised he has missed his wife so bad that he has grown desperate to see her again. He never noticed it, he always thought about locating the Blue Spider Lily and spreading over his ‘gift’ of demonicism around to every human he can find to gain the power he desires, to concur the Sun. Now, he notices how aggressive he is over the idea of love and how he is so repulsed by the six other wives he has pretended to marry throughout his life

Muzan stayed silent, blood red slit-pupiled eyes glaring at his reborn Hashira wife, taking in her features to every corner and constantly seeing glimpses and flashes of her original self… she’s so beautiful and he didn’t even notice how beautiful Dokusha actually was. How she didn’t deserve to die for his sake, if he could, he’d have ordered Dokusha to stay with him when she left upon calling that doctor in, as to save her life so then, he could have turned her into an demon too

Made her his Queen of Demons but no… he failed and now, he is beyond bittersweet. Pining, angry at his own blindness, upset he let the only woman who actually genuinely cared about him go… if he could reverse time, he would

Muzan, now, cannot bring himself to be the cause of his wife’s death once more… he can’t. He’ll just have to figure out another way to get her back, all without hurting her so before Dokusha could even think to begin attacking the Demon King with all the strength she has within that branded Nichirin Katana. Muzan fades away into the pitch black night, his glowing red eyes providing the only semblance of light for him when he retreats from that Hashira and those magnificent eyes, disappearing several streets down from her in a way she can’t track him down

He loves her

He knows he loves his wife and he can’t believe he had to wait for 10,000 years to recognise the mere fact that he did love Dokusha. Even if he didn’t know her enough to even call her a friend, her optimistic compassionate nature and the right to admire that personality was drowned out by Muzan’s own bitterness and desire to remain alive. He messed up royally with the first Dokusha, he won’t mess up with the second Dokusha

And he will make her his queen… even if it includes spending hours following the Ice Hashira around. He’ll do it and he already has a plan devised in his mind. He won’t hesitate to find some method to transform into a powerful immortal being like himself

All because he wants you back so bad

[alwaysmicado]

Trouble

5.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 5

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, D/s dynamic, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, cum eating, leg humping, degradation/praise, humiliation kink, pet names, aftercare, feelings Summary: After you’ve distracted Joel from work with your explicit texts all day, he decides to teach you a lesson.  A/N: Consensual degradation & humiliation – my beloved. This one's for you if you're into unadulterated filth with feelings sprinkled on top hehe. Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thots! 🤍

pt. 1 ・ pt. 2 ・ pt. 3 ・ pt. 4 ・ series masterlist

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

---

“Sneaking out for a hot date?” 

Busted. 

You sigh and turn around to face Kristen’s triumphant grin. Beautiful Kristen. The only person at your job with a bearable personality. 

If you only had Janice from accounting and her incessant yapping about her feral kids, or John from HR and his never-ending tirades against “modern women”, you probably would have burnt down the building already.  

Kristen’s been your lifeline over the past two years at this job. She’s upbeat, fun, a gifted painter and the closest thing to a female friend you have. 

Her only flaw: she’s so nosy it’s not even funny.

After your get-well-fuck with Joel three days ago where he left multiple marks on your neck, you not only plastered a bunch of foundation over the purple reminders of his fever-fueled nipping, you also wore a silk scarf which, in hindsight, was a dumb idea.

The first thing you were welcomed with when you came in that morning was an enthusiastic “You go, girl!” followed by giggling after Kristen saw your unimpressed face. 

You shoot her a half-hearted smile and raise an eyebrow. “Who says it’s a date?” 

Kristen’s grin widens. “Oh, come on! You think I don’t notice the way you giggle at your phone like a lovesick idiot?”

“Oh, shut up,” you protest in mock offense. What the hell is she talking about? You don’t do that. “I got a doctor’s appointment. Nothing hot about that,” you say nonchalantly.

Kristen leans in, lowering her voice dramatically. “A doctor, huh? Do you have an ache only he can cure with his special tool?”

“You’re a pervert, you know that?” 

“Yeah, duh. That’s why you love me,” she chuckles, causing the corners of your own lips to twitch. 

“Well,” she smirks, “I hope the doctor will take the best care of you.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing, grab your bag and blow her a kiss before heading out. You leave the office with a grin, reveling in the sunshine that greets you when you step out.

The warmth of the day feels refreshing against your skin as you stroll to the parking lot. Your dress, despite being a result of prolonged laundry procrastination, is surprisingly comfortable, allowing you to appreciate the light breeze that rustles its fabric. 

The sun casts a golden hue on the cityscape and you can't help but smile at the small pleasures of life – the sun on your face, a staff meeting getting canceled earlier, finding twenty bucks in an old pair of jeans this morning.

Life is okay at the moment.

Despite work kicking your ass, your mother trying to guilt-trip you into coming “home” and the last hookup you had throwing you out in the middle of the goddamn night because his wife came home from her business trip early.

You’re feeling good. 

One might even say you’re happy.

If only there wasn’t this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders when you see your Uber pull up. Get yourself together. 

The car winds through the city streets, and as you give Joel's address to the driver, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. The engine hums softly as you navigate the familiar turns, presenting the perfect background to lose yourself in a daydream.

As you settle into the comfort of your bed, the world outside fades away. In the gentle embrace of your imagination, you feel a figure appear behind you. Their warmth is a soothing balm, and as they pull you close, a profound sense of security envelops you. The weight of the world, of your being lifts, replaced by the tender reassurance of this ethereal embrace.

In this imagined sanctuary, sleep finds you easily, cradled in the arms of solace. The whispered promise of warmth and safety lingers, allowing dreams to unfold like petals, undisturbed and serene in the soft glow of moonlight.

The notification sound of your phone pulls you back to reality. Glancing at the screen, you see Joel's name. You open the message and involuntarily press your thighs together, your pulse quickening instantly. 

Door’s open. Get naked, then come upstairs.You’re in real trouble, angel.

---

The familiar scent of Joel’s home greets you when you step inside. It smells more like home than your apartment or any other place you’ve lived in since you were a child. Safe, warm, comforting – like its owner. And it’s a surprisingly well-decorated and welcoming home for a bachelor.

So much so that you asked him flat out if he had a wife on your first night together.

You take your shoes off and put your bag on the couch in the living room before heading to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands and quickly check if you look presentable. Your eyes are a bit swollen from lack of restful sleep, but other than that, you’re good to go.

As you take your dress, bra and panties off, you somewhat fondly remember the last time Joel ordered you to his home because you were sending him filthy texts and photos while you both were at work. 

You spent thirty minutes sitting still on his lap while he worked on his computer, his throbbing cock buried deep inside you. Every time he would shift in his chair a little, you would whimper into the crook of his neck and he would whisper into your ear how well you were doing for him and draw soothing circles on your back with his palm.

You hated and loved every torturous second of it. 

The office door is open when you come upstairs. Your eyes widen when you see Joel sitting at his desk. It’s incredible how handsome he looks. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, blue gym shorts and his glasses as he’s staring at the computer and typing something with his index fingers.

Your heart starts beating faster as you take him in, the domesticity of this scene giving you an unexpectedly warm feeling deep within you. 

“You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Joel asks with a swivel of his chair, his body now facing yours. He saw you out of the corner of his eye before but now that he’s getting a good look at you, his jaw almost hits the floor.

He will never get used to seeing you naked. 

“God, you’re so much more beautiful in real life,” he murmurs, his pupils blown wide and the admiration in his voice unmistakable.

You give him a satisfied smile as you lean against the doorframe. “I sure hope so,” you tease. 

“Do you know why you’re here, darlin’?” Joel asks with a tilt of his head, his brow slightly furrowed.

“I’m assuming it has something to do with the silly little texts and pics I sent you to brighten up your day,” you say, feigning innocence. “Did you like them?” 

“You really think now’s the time to be a brat, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright, then.” His eyes sparkle dangerously as he sits back in his chair and spreads his legs wider.

“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”

“I’m—sorry?”

“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”

You bite your lip as your eyes focus on the visible bulge in Joel’s shorts, and try to suppress the huge grin that’s threatening to spread across your face. This is exactly what you wanted and you both know it.

“Hands and knees, baby,” Joel orders calmly and puts his hands on his thighs. “C’mere.”

You lower yourself on all fours without hesitation and crawl towards him slowly, making sure to sway your hips and never break eye contact. Joel’s the only person you’d put yourself in such a submissive position for and you revel in the exhilarating feeling it gives you.

Joel keeps his eyes trained on you, subtly rubbing his thighs as you come closer to where he’s needed you all day. His eyes are dark and full of need as he licks his lips and follows the mesmerizing movement of your body. He likes how you, despite your brattiness, know perfectly well where your place is. 

“Look at what you did,” he says, once you’re kneeling on all fours between his spread legs. He palms his throbbing cock over the fabric and your eyes widen a little, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“That's right, baby, you did this. And now you need to take responsibility for your actions.” He gently caresses your cheek, tracing your lips with his thumb.

When he presses on your lower lip, you instinctively open your mouth enough for his finger to slip inside. He presses on your tongue, admiring the feeling and your willingness to submit.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, gently rubbing his cock. “Such a little slut, always wants something in her mouth.”

He moves his thumb further along your tongue, causing you to furrow your brow and gag a little. “You couldn't help yourself, huh, just had to put on a show all day like the needy whore you are.” 

He takes his thumb out of your mouth and pulls his shorts all the way down, letting them fall on the floor next to his chair. His heavy cock flops against his lower belly, causing you to swallow and part your lips instinctively. Joel smirks at your reaction, enjoying the raw need sparkling in your eyes as he strokes himself slowly.

You start squirming, pressing your thighs together to alleviate at least some of the uncomfortable ache between your legs, and let out an almost inaudible whine as Joel continuously strokes up and down his length while looking at you curiously. 

He leans in and tilts your chin up, his dark eyes boring into you.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” He asks softly, feigning concern. He looks from you to his cock and back, raising an eyebrow. “All of this just because you’re a pathetic little cockslut with nothing else in her dumb little head than my cock. Isn’t that right, angel?”

You nod slowly, your lips slightly parted, hypnotized by Joel’s big eyes and filthy words.  

“Use your words, slut,” he growls, gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head up even more. 

“I just—wanted you so bad, I–” 

“Aww, of course you did,” he teases you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me your safeword, angel.” 

He looks into your eyes intently as you say it out loud, then puts a soft kiss on your lips. You whimper when he withdraws, the feeling of his warm lips lingering. 

“Open up,” he orders with a tap of his fingers to your bottom lip. “Stick your tongue out for me.” 

You obey and do as he says, looking into his eyes expectantly. You watch in awe and pure need as the thick glob of saliva makes its way down from Joel’s mouth and lands on the back of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel it run down your throat. 

“Swallow.” He gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear as you show him your empty mouth. “Good girl.”

You moan softly at his praise and furrow your brow when your eyes find his cock again. 

“You really want it, huh,” Joel purrs, trailing your neck and chest gently with his hands. When he brushes your nipples, you wince a little, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “Spread your legs, baby. Let me see your little pussy.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching impatiently when you sit back on your heels and present your glistening folds.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs, tracing your belly all the way down to your mound and stopping right before touching your clit. “Must’ve been uncomfortable to sit in that all day, hm?” 

He gently pulls your lips apart with his thumbs and index fingers, inspecting you closely. “Your little clit is so swollen, baby, does it hurt?” 

“Mhm,” you whine, his touch so close to your neglected bundle of nerves torturing you beyond belief. “It–it hurts so bad, Sir.” 

“Hmm,” he searches your eyes, “and that’s why you thought it was a good idea to send me all those naughty messages?” He spreads your lips apart further, eliciting a long moan from you. “You thought I’d fuck you if you did?”

“Y–yes,” you stammer, your legs trembling, “I’m sor–”

You’re cut off when Joel lets go of your lips and swipes his fingers through your dripping wet folds agonizingly slowly, once, twice, three times, barely brushing your pulsating clit. 

Listening to the noises you make and feeling your hot cunt on his hand is enough to make him almost come, despite his cock not having any contact at the moment. His eyes never leave yours as you whimper desperately, his barely there touch enough to build your long overdue orgasm.

“Go on, angel,” he withdraws his hand and holds his hand up to your lips, “clean up the mess you made.”

He pushes his wet fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck your own juices off of him. You do so eagerly, sucking and licking his fingers, moaning around them. 

“You would’ve sucked my cock in front of everyone if I had let you, huh.” You let out a desperate moan, feeling your pussy get wetter at the thought. “That’s right, baby,” Joel chuckles. “Show everyone you’re my little cockslut.”

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with the job you did, then grabs your chin hard, his wet fingers pressing into your hot cheeks.

“You want it so bad, baby? Then beg for it.” 

“Please,” you whine. “Please let me suck your cock, please, I–I want your cock so bad—”

“All yours, baby.”

He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, looking at you through lidded eyes. 

“Fuuuck, that’s it,” Joel groans as you start licking and sucking at his balls, then lightly trace the veins of his cock with your warm tongue, swirling it around the tip, licking up the salty precum. You look at him expectantly as you lick up and down his length, fondling his balls with your hand. 

He smiles at the needy look in your eyes, finding it unbelievably hot that you want to, need to hear his praise so badly even though it’s obvious that everything you do to him is and feels beyond perfect. 

“Good girl,” he says softly, eliciting a little whimper from you. “Now stop teasing and take it.”

You immediately hold him up by the base and take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it eagerly. You take him further, inch by inch, bobbing your head up and down his shaft until he’s nudging the back of your throat. Your eyes well over with tears as you gag around his cock. Joel groans in response, his whole body tensing as he tangles his hands in your hair.

You make a surprised sound when he leans over you and pushes your head down until your nose is rubbing his pubic hair, giving you no chance to move your head. He keeps his length buried deep inside you for a few seconds before pulling you up, a thick string of saliva mixed with precum connecting you two, only to push you right back down.

“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel pants as you choke and whine loudly. 

He pulls your head back up to let you catch your breath and make sure you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is. He knows from the look in your eyes that you are, but he wants to make sure before you continue. 

“What’s your color, angel?” 

You look at him with bleary eyes, but give him a dazed smile and whisper, “Green.”

Joel nods and caresses your wet cheeks, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. 

He traces your swollen lips with the head of his cock, loving the way his precum sticks to them. 

“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he pants. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”

You wrap your lips around his head, swirl your tongue around it, then bob your head again – messily, sloppily, just the way he likes it. 

“Good girl,” he breathes, thrusting his hips to slide in and out of your mouth, smiling at you and petting your hair. “Such a perfect little fleshlight.”

You tremble and moan around him, not entirely sure if his filthy mouth, his groaning, or the fact that he’s using you for his pleasure  is turning you on the most. You just know you love it when he holds your head steady and fucks your mouth roughly, taking what he wants from you, making you gag and choke, saliva and tears running down your cheeks, chin, neck, and body.

You look like a masterpiece. 

“I’m close, baby,” Joel pants, your perfect, wet mouth and the admiration he sees in your big, wet eyes making him tremble every time he thrusts his hips into you. You push him right over the edge when you squeeze his balls hard. 

He comes with a strangled groan, shooting rope after rope of warm cum down your throat and onto your tongue. You welcome it with eager moans, so far gone that you don’t realize what you’re doing until after it’s too late — you swallow it all without his permission.

Fatal mistake. 

Joel grabs you by your hair, pulling you off his pulsating cock, still breathing heavily.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”

Your eyes widen in shock, your lip quivering. “I–I'm sorry, I–I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Joel sighs and raises his eyebrows. He loosens his grip in your hair and looks at your eyes welling up with tears. You stumble over your words as you keep apologizing over and over again. You’re so perfect like this. 

“What’s your color, baby?” 

“Green, Sir,” you sniffle. “It’s green.”

“Now what am I supposed to do with a fleshlight that doesn’t work right, hm?” He tilts your chin up and rubs it softly with his thumb. “Do you think you deserve to get fucked?”

“I’m—please, I'll be good, I promise,” you choke out through tears and hiccups. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please—”

Joel smirks and leans back in his chair. “No need to tell me that, angel. I know you’ll do anything.” He lifts his foot between your thighs, eliciting a small, needy noise from you when he presses it against your swollen cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All from being used, hm?”

“Yes, Sir,” you whine, wiping your cheeks and trying your hardest to stay still. “Thank you.”

“Such a pathetic little slut.” He rubs his foot against your folds, and you moan, closing your eyes, your lips trembling, your face hot from embarrassment and arousal. Joel presses harder and you cry out, your hips jerking instinctively. 

“Pathetic enough to hump my leg?”

He snorts when he sees the stunned look on your face. You are definitely startled, but you don't protest. Joel can see a mix of hesitation and need in your eyes, and he understands that he needs to push you.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” he says, gently petting your hair, “so you better thank me for letting you come at all.”

He sighs and pulls your head back by your hair when you don’t answer fast enough. 

“Use your words, slut.”

“Th–thank you,” you whimper. “I–I just–” You trail off, too shocked and embarrassed to finish your sentence, your voice trembling as you babble unintelligibly.

You hear Joel say your name and feel him cup your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

You sniffle and try to focus on his eyes. “Tell me your color,” he says gently, his deep voice soothing your nerves. 

“Still green,” you breathe, swallowing hard. 

He searches your eyes and nods before sitting back up and extending his leg a little.

“Go on, then.”

You look at the satisfied smirk on his face before taking a deep breath and scooting forward, adjusting yourself against Joel’s leg. Gripping Joel’s thigh for balance, you tilt your hips forward until your clit makes contact with his hairy leg. You shudder at the feeling, a needy little moan escaping your lips. 

Joel’s pupils are so blown, his eyes are completely black now. 

You slowly drag your hips upward and duck your head, embarrassed that you’re actually enjoying this – and that you’re this wet. After slowly rocking your hips up and down a few times, you can’t keep yourself from moaning anymore. It feels to fucking good.

You shift a little and allow yourself to set a pace that will make you come. You nuzzle your face against Joel’s thigh and don’t hold back anymore, rutting against his leg with abandon, chasing your release. 

“That’s it, angel,” Joel purrs, gently brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well for me.”

You rock your hips against his leg over and over again, your brows furrowed, whimpering desperately as you grind your wet folds against Joel’s leg, the friction causing your whole body to shudder.

Joel fucking loves seeing you like this; pliant, obedient, wanting to be good so badly that you’d do anything to please him. Most of all, though, he loves how much you trust him. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises, tilting your chin up to look into your glazed over eyes. “My good girl.”

You moan at his words, your fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, your hips jerking frantically, desperate for release. Joel smiles softly at your reaction, reveling in the fact that he's ruining you for anyone else.

He fucking delights in it.

“That’s right, angel. Keep looking at me with those beautiful eyes.”

You barely hear what he says as your breathing comes out in noisy, deep gasps, too far gone, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed at fucking yourself on Joel’s leg. There are no thoughts left in your brain, your only focus now is chasing your climax.

“Feels good, huh? Such a spoiled brat, aren’t you,” he taunts, marveling at your blissed out expression and the sheen of sweat glistening on your naked body.

“You think you deserve to come, hm? Even though you’re just a dumb little whore, only good for taking my cock in all her holes?”

That’s almost enough right there to tip you over the edge. 

“Tell me what you are.”

You let out a choked sob, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. Joel wipes them away with his thumbs as you stutter, “I’m–I’m your dumb little whore, Sir. I’m all yours — please, please–”

He gives you a warm smile as his dark eyes bore into. “Come for me, angel.”

You press your throbbing clit hard against him, humping his leg feverishly until the tension finally snaps and shockwaves grip your whole body, your legs trembling as you moan uncontrollably. Your walls contract around nothing as you collapse onto Joel’s thigh and start sobbing.

It’s all too much right now. 

He immediately draws you into his strong arms, lifting you up and cradling you. “Shh, sweetheart,” he purrs, holding you tight and stroking your hair, “you did so well. Are you alright, hm? You want me to go get you a towel?”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion of him leaving you, causing you to shake your head fervently, your tears flowing freely now as you gradually come down from your high. 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby” he coos, putting soft kisses on the top of your head and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

You're still naked and Joel wants you to feel comfortable and warm, so he swivels you two towards the couch to snag the blanket and drape it over you. He holds you close, whispering into your hair how well you did and how good you are, intermittently pressing soft kisses on your wet face. 

You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, a comforting rhythm that wraps around you like a protective cocoon. The warmth emanating from his body seeps into yours, making you feel calm and protected. 

Joel’s not surprised that you need physical affection and closeness right now, knowing that humiliation is one of the most effective ways to make you fly – and crash.

Falling apart in front of somebody, allowing them to see you in such a raw, uninhibited state, is an incredibly vulnerable act.

Joel is not taking your trust lightly. 

When he sees you wipe your nose with your arm, he swivels you back to his desk and opens the drawer to get you some tissues. Your heart skips a beat when you see what else is inside, but you keep quiet. 

“Was I really good?” You mumble after listening to Joel’s calming heartbeat for a few minutes.

“You were perfect, baby,” he says softly, pressing a tender kiss on the crown of your head. 

“So, can you fuck me now?”

The vibrations of Joel’s chuckles reverberate beneath you, making you laugh yourself. 

“How about we make sure you drink enough and eat something first, hm?”

“Just say that your refractory period is getting longer, old man.” 

“Why, hello,” he laughs and pinches your sides, making you squeal, “the princess is back.” You lift your head to look into his eyes. His beautiful, warm eyes. “You think I’ll fuck you if you keep being a brat, hm?” 

“That’s exactly what I think. Because you always do. Because you love it.” 

“Wow,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “All this just now and you’re still sassing me?”

“Just admit you fucking love it, so we can move on and decide what we wanna have for dinner,” you murmur. 

Joel can’t hold back the beaming smile that’s spreading across his face.

Save for last time, you usually leave shortly after you’ve come down. He’ll sometimes ask if you want to stay a bit, but will never pressure you into doing so – even if it hurts him. 

And it does, sometimes, if he’s being honest. 

“Alright, alright,” he sighs deeply, his smile betraying his mocking tone. “I fucking love it when you’re a little brat and torture me all fucking day, making me sit in a fucking meeting for hours on end with a hard cock, listening to some rich fucks who want me to build some bullshit building for them.” 

You giggle at the description of his day and kiss his dimple. “I really am sorry, you know.”

“No you’re not,” he shakes his head. “Now, what are you in the mood for?”

“Can we, um, can we go eat the fattiest, unhealthiest junk food ever and then wash it down with huge cups of pure sugar, so we’re both gonna have a stomach ache for the next three days?” 

“Have I ever told you you’re perfect before?”

---

You step out of the shower, dry off, wash your face with Joel’s face wash and drink a glass of water. Joel put your bag outside the door when you were in the shower, giving you space to do your thing and going downstairs to take a shower there himself.

You’re kind of tired now, feeling a little burnt out.

You put on your panties and retrieve the comfy gym shorts you were smart enough to bring with you from your bag. They’re the only other clean piece of clothing besides the dress you could find in your drawer this morning.

“Joel?” You shout from the top of the stairs. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow a t-shirt?” 

“Sure, darlin’. Just grab one you like.” 

“Thank you.” 

You smile and make your way to Joel’s bedroom. Opening the drawer, your eyes fall on a white shirt you’ve seen him wear many times. Don’t do it. You sigh defeatedly and lift the shirt up to your face, inhaling the unmistakable scent. 

Then you suddenly remember it. Fuck. You need to make sure. 

You put on the shirt and quickly walk to the office. Taking a deep breath and making sure Joel’s not watching you snoop through his things, you open the drawer. 

The polaroid feels strange in your hand as you lift it to take a closer look. 

It’s one of Tommy, you and Joel in it, from the night Tommy introduced you two. You don’t even remember taking this one, but now that you’re looking at it, you see something. It’s the way you’re smiling.

You turn the photo and read the handwritten note that catches your eye. 

when I met her

You swallow hard and put it back. It doesn’t mean anything. You hung the other polaroid, the one of only you and Joel, up in your apartment and that doesn’t mean anything either—right?

“Babe?” Joel’s voice pulls you back.

You turn around and look at him, startled. “I, uh, was just looking for some batteries. Couldn’t find any though.” 

“I got plenty downstairs,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Come on, let’s go.”

---

You’re sitting in a booth, munching on your burger, intermittently sipping your soda. You don’t even realize you haven’t answered Joel for the third time. 

“Are you sure everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Joel touches your arm, his brow furrowed. You look at his concerned face, his cute little frown, before putting down your burger with a sigh. 

“I, uh,” you start but can’t think of the right words. “I’m just feeling a little off these days, I guess. Work’s been stressful and, um, you–you’re gonna think I’m weird,” you murmur while picking at the fries on your plate. 

“Darlin’,” Joel sighs, taking your hand into his, “you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles when he sees your offended face. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He rubs the back of your hand softly and searches your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“It’s, um,” you clear your throat. “Do you ever get this feeling that there’s something looming?”

He tilts his head and looks at you curiously. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’?”

“Like if you’re happy, do you ever feel like it’s not real, it can’t be real, and there’s something looming? Like there’s something just waiting to fuck everything up?” 

When he doesn’t answer, you avert your gaze and try to withdraw your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m killing the vi–”

“No, sweetheart. Hey, c’mere.” He extends both of his hands to you on the table and you give him yours to hold. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs, “your question just caught me off guard a little.”

You softly rub his hand with your right thumb and study his features. He looks gorgeous with his tousled hair and his big cow eyes.

“Look, I know that happiness is hard to accept sometimes because we’re afraid of it not lasting. It may even seem easier to sabotage it preemptively, so we’re not disappointed or don’t get hurt when something bad does happen. And I also know that we sometimes don’t think we even deserve to be happy.”

Bingo. 

“But sweetheart, I need you to understand something,” he squeezes your hands gently, his sincere eyes boring into you.

“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.” 

You try your best to blink away the tears that are forming in your eyes.

---

Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 4 || part 6 || series masterlist

[laura1633]

I can't stop thinking about 8. with Omega Max and Alpha Charles, except that it's not slick but milk. I'm just a little obsessed with his chest and the thought of him lactating around his crush, oh my

First up for the omegaverse prompt game (I do have lots of your prompts and I will pick through as many as I can)

This was a wonderful adjustment to the prompt anon 😍. I do firstly have to apologise because this did turn into lactation kink which I have no idea how to write 😂

These omegaverse prompts are mostly just going to be rough and ready rather than fully fledged fics so hopefully you will all forgive me for that and still enjoy them for what they are (this one was was a little longer than intended)

Tags: Lactation kink

The first time it had happened Max had assumed it was a coincidence. 

He had been chatting to Charles in some fancy bar when his nipples started tingling and his breasts felt as if they were slowly starting to swell. It was strange. Not strange enough to concern him immediately though. Charles always made him feel funny. Butterflies in his stomach. Slick in his panties. It was only when noticed that there were wet patches forming on the front of his shirt that he had squeaked and scurried off to the bathroom to clean himself up. 

He’d been expecting his top to be damp with sweat so the discovery of milk trickling from his nipples had set off a whole array of alarm bells that resulted in a mad dash down to a late night pharmacy to get his hands on a pregnancy test.

It had come back negative which he really should have known. Other than letting one of his pit crew go down on him after his win in Vegas he hadn’t engaged in any sexual activity for at least the last nine months.  Still, he’d only ever heard of omegas lactating when carrying or nursing a pup so it was worth ruling the possibility out. 

He’d hoped it had been a one off. A bizarre experience that he would laugh about one day, but it kept happening. Over and Over but always around Charles. The Monegasque would only need to smile in his direction and Max would feel slick dripping from his pussy and milk leaking from his tits. He may as well have been melting into a puddle on the floor, it probably would have left less mess. 

He had tried his best to get things under control by himself.  He’d taken to wearing extra layers and using nursing pads to soak up the worst of it. It was only ever masking the problem though,  Charles was still making him leak even if it was now happening under four layers of clothing. So, after much deliberation Max had hauled himself off to a doctor’s to get check out.

He had been expecting a complicated diagnoses. What he had received was an elderly beta doctor looking him square in the eye and asking him if the alpha in question was one he would like to be bred by.  Max had of course, like any self respecting omega, shook his head vigorously in response but the flush of crimson on his face was seemingly more convincing an answer.

It was true. The image of Charles breeding him was one he’d conjured up many nights whilst laying out in bed with a silicone knotting device pushed up inside him. He’d just never expected his fantasies to make his breasts leak. 

The official diagnosis:  On set lactation resulting from an urge to be bred by a particular alpha.

The cure : to talk to said alpha.

The prognosis : Not good. There was not a single chance in hell Max was going to tell Charles that his tits leaked milk whenever he came close. 

And so Max had tried his best to carry on as normal. He joked around with Checo in the garage. He played padel with Lando in Monaco. And he leaked fucking milk out of his tits around Charles.

It had been absolutely fucking fantastic. It had never been as bad as right now though. 

Max fidgets around trying to make himself comfortable as he tries to ignore the fact that he’s been placed right next to Charles at the FIA gala ceremony. Despite all of the omega’s successes he really was starting to feel like the universe hated him.  There seemed no other logical reason why his white shirt was darkening against his nipples as he waited to go up on stage and collect his trophy. 

It really didn’t help that watching the ceremony was about as interesting as watching paint dry.

“You okay?” Oscar leans in from where he’s sat on the other side of Max and gives the Dutch omega a look of concern. 

“Fine. Why?” Max tries to keep his eyes focused on the stage ahead. He’s almost certain that he’s blushing but right now the colour of his cheeks are the least of his problems, Charles’ alpha scent is filling his nostrils and making his tits feel like they’ve swollen to the size of footballs. If it goes on any longer Max’s chest is going to feel so heavy he’ll probably tip over if he tries to stand up. He supposes he will at least have two pillowy breasts full of milk to cushion his fall.

“You’re whining” Oscar says gently as he lets a hand rest on Max’s thigh and gives it a reassuring squeeze, “Are you sure you’re fine?”

“Just nervous” Max tries his best to smile. If he was going to speak to anyone about his little problem then Oscar wouldn’t be such a bad choice. He doubts the younger Omega would make any huge dramatics out of the situation.

“What’s going on?” Charles leans right across Max to join in the conversation, his earthy scent flooding Max’s nostrils once more and Max is sure that the fabric of his shirt stretches in response to his expanding chest.

“Nothing, just nerves” Oscar gives Max’s thigh another reassuring squeeze before turning his attention back towards the stage.

“This never gets any more interesting does it?” Charles giggles. The alpha is so close that Max can feel the warmth of his breath as he laughs, “We have another hour before it’s our time.” Charles inches himself back in his chair much to Max’s relief. Most of the damage has already been done though, Max’s panties are soaked and he can feel milk trickling down his chest all the way to his stomach. As he chances a glance down he realises that his shirt has turned see through where the material is damp. 

The omega pulls his jacket around himself and tries to hold it across his body. He has at least had the foresight to bring a spare shirt with him to change into before he gets up on stage but he’s determined not to slip into it yet or that will also be drenched by the time his moment in the spotlight arrives. 

It’s starting to feel uncomfortable though. His nipples itch as his shirt rubs against them and his breasts feel heavier each time Charles talks to him. As much as he was hoping to avoid the indignity of having to try and milk himself in a bathroom stall he’s not sure he has much choice. If his breasts swell any further his shirt is going to rip at the seems. 

“We should maybe go for some food or something afterwards?” Charles mumbles quietly against Max’s ear. Unfortunately Max’s response is a lot less discreet, the omega keens happily but his happiness is short lived as he feels another gush of milk leak from his left breast and he’s quickly brought back down to reality. He can’t sit opposite Charles in s restaurant in this state. 

He’s pretty certain that other people must have noticed something odd going on. The milk doesn’t have the strongest smell but there is something rather soapy about the aroma and the scent is starting to spread outwards. The omega jumps up from his chair and sprints out the room as quickly as he can as he bolts towards the bathroom and shuts himself away in a stall. 

Shit.

When Max slides off his jack and looks down to see what the damage is he finds his shirt soaked at the front. None of this seems remotely fair.

“Max? Are you in there?”

Max yelps as he hears Charles’ voice and his breasts tingle and expand on cue like some unwanted new party trick.

“Did I upset you? Sorry I didn’t mean to. We don’t have to go out, I just thought - “ Charles trails off and Max realises its because he is whining loudly from where he has shut himself inside the toilet cubicle, “Max I think you need to let me in or I need to go get Oscar or - “ 

“No” Max whimpers, “Please, it is  just - “ The omega sighs as he tries to work out what he can possibly say that will explain this all away. There isn’t anything though.  He’s a complete and utter mess. There is one thing he is certain of above all else, he can’t go on like this. The thought makes him want to sob. The omega steels himself before opening up the door and coming face to face with Charles. 

“Max -“ 

“I had a sort of accident.” Max mumbles. His jacket and bowtie still hung on the back of the door leaving his crinkled wet shirt on full display as it stretches wet across the broadness of his chest. 

“Oh my god” Charles immediately shuffles himself into the stall and closes the door behind him, “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s milk” Max keens helplessly.

“You’re pregnant?! Who got you pregnant?” Charles’ eyes darken as his chest puffs out. 

“I’m not pregnant!” Max reaches out and runs his hands over his stomach to show how flat it is and then, because he can’t hold it in any longer, he blurts out the secret he has been trying to hold in for so long, “This is because of you.”

Charles freezes. He looks surprised, startled, confused. 

All of which Max thinks are perfectly valid repossess to an omega telling you that you are the reason they are currently lactating. 

“Me?” Charles’ mouth opens and closes a few times as if he’s trying to elaborate on his question. Instead he just settles on repeating himself “Me?”

“I always do it when you are close to me. Always with the milk and the swelling and the tingling,“ Max pauses before starting to babble to fill up the silence once more, “My body wants you to breed me.”

It’s not an eloquent explanation. Nor is it the way Max had wanted to explain his little affliction to Charles. 

“You want me to breed you?”

“My body wants you to breed me?” Max tries to draw some sort of distinction between his brain and his body. In reality they are both pretty much on the same page, Max goes all mushy brained whenever Charles is close and he’d quite happily let the alpha fill him with one or two tiny Leclerc pups if Charles was up for it.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Whenever you talk to me or smile at me or come near me this happens” Max looks down to the ever growing wet circles around his nipples, “It is because I want you.”

Max’s breath catches as he hears the low rumble coming from Charles. The alpha’s scent has shifted again, it’s not sour notes this time, it’s thick and warm enough to make Max want to melt right into Charles’ arms.

And Charles - 

Well, Charles doesn’t look immediately put off by all this. 

“Does it hurt?” Charles lifts his hand and reaches towards Max’s chest but stops short of actually touching the omega much to Max’s dissatisfaction. Max lets out an unhappy little sound and tries to push his chest towards where Charles’ hand is lingering. It’s in that moment that Max finally accepts that when it comes to Charles he has almost no control over what his body does. He’s just a walking ball of hormones falling apart every time he is close to the most handsome alpha he has ever seen. 

Charles cups his hand against Max’s breast and the omega tries his best to bite back a desperate whine as his shirt rubs agains this erect nipple. 

“Shhh it’s okay” Charles coos softly, “You want me to help you get cleaned up?”

Max nods meekly as he lets Charles slowly start to unbutton his shirt. There is a steady rumbling coming from the alpha now. Louder and louder. The vibration like an engine revving. Max is sure that the only time he’s ever made an alpha rumble this loud before was when their cock was inside him.

“Fuck” Charles growls as he eases the shirt off and soothes his hands over Max’s breasts . There’s still milk trickling down, his skin sticky and wet. Yet far from looking disgusted Charles is licking right across his lips. Max tries not to let himself get carried away by trying to work out what exactly that means.

“This is all because of me?” Charles growls again, low and possessive. The alpha’s hand cups and squeezes against Max’s right breast and the trickle of milk starts to build in to a stream. 

“For you” Max mumbles but the words come out as little more than a breathy moan as he sees the milk dripping down over Charles’ fingers and hand, white liquid splashing against the Monegasque’s jewellery. It feels so obscene yet Charles’ eyes are just widening in fascination and he’s bringing his own fingers to his mouth to lick them clean.  

Max holds his breath. The milk tastes sweet. Sugary even. Max knows because he tasted it in one of his weaker moments. Charles’ tongue licks over his fingers again, lapping up the last few drops that have dripped down to his knuckles. 

“You taste beautiful” Charles looks up, his eyes flickering as they meet Max’s gaze, “so good.”

Max feels his skin tingle. His chest tight. Body vibrating. He tries to hold as still as possible. Nothing feels real.  The lactating. The sight of Charles licking milk off his fingers. The sound of clapping and cheering filtering in from the room next door. It’s like a fever dream. 

Charles puts his hand back on Max’s tits, massaging and cupping the flesh and watching the way the drops of milk form and then drip down. 

“This is - “ Charles squeezes again and watches another bead of milk form, “Fuck you’re so pretty. Such a pretty omega.”

Max’s legs shake as Charles leans closer and starts to lap up the milk that is falling down over the curve of his breast. The alpha’s tongue is warm and wet against his skin. 

The omega arches his back and pushes his chest closer to Charles’ mouth. He has never been an overly dominant omega when it comes to sex, he prefers to encourage rather than demand but his hands are twitching by his side as he considers tangling his fingers into Charles’ hair and pulling the alpha down on to his nipple. 

“All for me?” Charles looks up and grins excitedly as he runs his tongue around where Max wants it. The movement slow, deliberate, in control. 

It’s too much. Not enough. Max isn’t even sure anymore. He’s leaking from more than just his chest, his panties are soaked and there’s slick racing down his thighs. 

“Please” Max’s voice is breathless, his cheeks burning red as he watches Charles’ mouth close around his nipple. The alpha latches on and Max groans happily at the sudden rush of relief and pleasure he feels. 

Charles sucks the nipple in his mouth and pulls off with a wet slurping popping sound, his lips now glistening wet. 

With milk.

With Max’s milk.

With Max’s milk that he’s just sucked out of his body. 

“Alpha!” Max whimpers and arches his back as Charles dives back in, this time massaging his hands against the flesh as he purses his lips and sucks more firmly. Over and over until Max can feel the milk spurting right into the alpha’s mouth. 

It makes him feel light headed. His nipples seem to have a direct line to his pussy. Each time Charles sucks and flicks out his tongue Max feels the sensation go right through his body until there is more and more slick gushing out of him. His tits throb. His clit throbs. His toes curls in his shoes. The sight of Charles attached to his tit - lapping, sucking, wet and filthy - makes him whine unashamedly. 

Charles pulls back to take another breath, the alpha panting, milk dripping down off the roughness of his stubble. When he goes back in he goes for the other breast, mouthing around the area before wrapping his lips around the nipple and sucking it into his mouth.

Max almost buckles this time, his legs barely keeping him upright. 

Charles is growling around him. One of the alpha’s hands cupped to his breast and the other - 

The other is - 

Oh 

Max moans and throws his head back as Charles’ hand dips below the waistband of his trousers and down into his panties. The alphas fingers brush lightly against his clit. The faintest and briefest of touches before Max is coming, his whole body spasming as he feels another spurt of milk shooting into Charles’ mouth and sees it drip down from side of the alpha’s lips. 

His body feels lighter. Floaty. Wet. So, so wet. 

Charles groans as he pulls back. His pupils blown. Face damp. He look stunning. Hair ruffled. Cheeks red. 

Max lets his own instincts take over as he gets his hands into Charles’ hair and pulls the alpha into a kiss. It tastes sweet as he licks up and into Charles’ mouth and tastes his own milk. 

Charles is hard, the alpha’s cock pushed against Max’s leg. Nice and big as it presses into the fleshy part of the omega’s thigh. Max can’t help but wonder how much bigger it gets when it knots. The thought alone makes his breasts tingle. 

“Forget going for dinner” Charles tugs at Max’s bottom lip with his teeth, “Come back to my hotel with me.” 

Max nods without hesitation. His body is already dripping all over, his pussy slick wet and ready to take the alpha’s knot, milk still dripping down over the curves of his breasts and down the contours of his body. 

He’s not ashamed anymore though. How can he be when he sees how much it’s turning Charles on. If anything he realises that maybe it’s been some sort of courting ritual all along. His body providing something his alpha wants. Because Charles is surely his now. Fully and completely. 

“Perfect little omega” Charles praises, his eyes wild as he goes back to smothering Max’s chest with warm wet kisses. 

Max closes his eyes and purrs as he hears the low possessive growl Charles makes as he continues to lick up the milk made solely for him. 

[simply-whump]

Mysterious Lotus Casebook (莲花楼) - Whump List

Whumpee : Li Lian Hua played by Cheng Yi, Fang Duo Bing played by Joseph Zeng and Di Fei Sheng played by Xiao Shun Yao

Synopsis : Ten years ago, Li Xiang Yi, the master of the Sigu Sect, dominated with his superior swordsmanship and was a symbol of light in the martial arts world. However, he suddenly disappeared along with Di Fei Sheng, the leader of the Jinyuan Alliance, after they arranged to battle in the East Sea. Ten years later, Li Lian Hua is a countryside doctor who travels dragging around a lotus tower. He accidentally becomes "famous" and gets pulled into the pugilistic world that he no longer wants to have any connections with. (MDL)

Genres : Mystery, Historical, Action

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Li Lian Hua

Ep 1 : Fighting, cuts on his face and chest, veins appear on his arm, stabbed, spitting blood, eyes red, falls into the water — Slammed into a table

Ep 2 : Paralysed briefly — Choked

Ep 3 : Unwell, blue veins, treating himself — (Flashback) Stranded on a beach unconscious, wakes up, blaming himself for the death of many — Walking weakly, collapses, treated, bleeding from the mouth, told he lost almost all his power and is poisoned with no cure in sight, told he only has 10 years to live — (Present) Sword at his neck  — Locked up

Ep 4 : Hands tied — Chained, almost tortured, saved

Ep 5 : Hit by rocks, blood at his mouth, found, concern for him, passes out — Unconscious in bed, wakes up from a nightmare

Ep 6-7 : None

Ep 8 : Hit, holding his chest, spitting blood — Sword at his neck

Ep 9 : (Flashback) Crying — (Present) Grabbing his chest, concern for him — Fails to get up

Ep 10 : (Flashback) Has an allergy to peanuts, red spots on his neck — (Present) Pinned against a column, grabbed by the neck, grabbed a second time 

Ep 11 : Pushed, rolls down, hits a rock, falls into water, bruise on his neck

Ep 12 : Arm in a sling — Crying

Ep 13 : Paralysed — Kinda forced to drink some medicine, feeling uncomfortable, inner power given to him forcefully, blue veins on his neck and hands, in pain, spitting blood — Thrown into a pit full of snakes, bitten multiple times, groaning in pain — Spitting blood

Ep 14-17 : None

Ep 18 : Healing someone, using some power, sweating — Collapses, spitting blood —Coughing, concern for him, passes out — Unconscious in bed, concern for him — Walking unsteadily, vision blurry — Told he only has 4 months left to live — Crying — Has trouble getting up, given inner energy

Ep 19-24 : None

Ep 25 : Falls through a trap — Choked, almost stabbed, saved

EP 26 : Holding his chest, kidnaped — Thrown to the ground, surrounded by monsters — Found on the ground seemingly unconscious, concern for him, is fine, helped up

Ep 27 : Identity revealed to Fang Duobing, collapses, spitting blood, passes out — Wakes up, coughing — Walking unsteadily — Waking up in bed, coughing, told he was unconscious for 3 days — Coughing

Ep 28 : Hit, holding his chest

Ep 29 : None

Ep 30 : Arrested — Poison acting up, unwell, cold, curled up on himself, shivering, concern for him, wrapped in blankets — Wakes up in bed, vision blurry — Loses balance briefly — Blue veins on his neck, fighting, spitting blood, concern for him, in an explosion, helped up, attacked, thrown around, spitting blood, weak on the ground, vision blurry, protected — Unconscious, carried — Unconscious in bed, wakes up, concern for him, can’t get up, shaking, blue veins on his hands, coughing, told to lie down, cold, coughing up blood, passes out — Unconscious in bed, treated — Carried unconscious

Ep 31 : Wakes up — Crying — Coughing, refuses to be saved at the cost of someone else’s life

Ep 32 : Crying

Ep 33 : Crying, spitting blood, collapses to one knee, continues to fight even though the poison is acting up

Ep 34 : Crying — Red and blue veins on his wrist, concern for him

Ep 35 : None

Ep 36 : Captured, chained in prison, wrongful accused, frees himself

Ep 37 : Drops a cup, rubbing his eyes — Stabbed by someone he trusted, spitting blood, passes out — Missing — Prisoner, chained, unconscious — Wakes up, vision blurry, weak, coughing blood, blind

Ep 38 : Still chained, coughing — Choked, coughing — Regains sight, manages to free himself 

Ep 39 : Intense final battle, poison acting up — Learns a shocking truth, teary eyed

Ep 40 : Uses his internal power to save someone, coughing, sweating — Walking unsteadily, collapses to one knee, spitting blood, vision blurry, concern for him, passes out — Wakes up in bed, pulse taken — Spitting blood — Leaves (Dies? Lives? You decide)

Fang Duo Bing

Ep 1 : Drugged, dizzy, passes out 

Ep 2 : None

Ep 3 : Locked up

Ep 4 : Hands tied

Ep 5 : Drugged, passes out

Ep 6-7 : None

Ep 8 : Hit, spitting blood, passes out — Woken up

Ep 9-12 : None

Ep 13 : Hit, spitting blood, collapses to one knee, in pain — Suddenly passes out, unconscious in bed, treated

Ep 14 : Unwell, treated — “Poison” acting up again, in pain

Ep 15 : None

Ep 16 : Cured — Tied up (Comedic)

Ep 17-25 : None

Ep 26 : Has a headache, collapses — Fighting, arm cut, treated, bandaged

Ep 27 : Bombarded, fighting many enemies at once, shoulder cut, saved by Li Lianhua — Feeling betrayed, upset, crying

Ep 28-29 : None

Ep 30 : Drugged — Wakes up tied up with ropes, taken hostage, finally learns that Lianhua is gravely poisoned, grabbed by the neck, freed — Fighting a lot of people at once, injured, holding his side

Ep 31 : Coughing, bleeding from his previous injury, hiding it

Ep 32-34 : None

Ep 35 : Hit, falling through a deep hole, trapped

Ep 36 : Still trapped, fighting, hit, spitting blood

Ep 37-39 : None

Ep 40 : Crying, worried for Li Lianhua

Di Fei Sheng

Ep 1 : Fighting, stabbed in the shoulder, stabbed in the chest, falls into the water 

Ep 2-7 : None

Ep 8 : Poisoned 

Ep 7-12 : None

Ep 13 : Acupuncture performed on him

Ep 14-19 : None

Ep 20 : Stabbed in the stomach, poisoned — Unwell, bleeding, walking unsteadily, passes out, found in the water unconscious — Lost his memories, passes out — Unconscious in bed

Ep 21-24 : None

Ep 25 : Has a headache, poison spreading, treated

Ep 26 : Headache, groaning in pain, collapses

Ep 27 : Headache, poison acting up, stumbling, supported, sweating, cutting the palm of his hand with his sword, cured, passes out — Wakes up in bed, regained his memories but pretends he has not

Ep 28-33 : None

Ep 34 : Poisoned, attacked, bleeding from the mouth, stabbed, both wrists and ankles slashed (tendons broken), bleeding, collapses, bleeding from the mouth — Weak

Ep 35-37 : None

Ep 38 : Prisoner, chained in water, injured, wound touched, wincing, stabbed, spits blood (in the villain face, which was kinda nice), slapped — Freed, carried — Meditating to heal himself, bleeding from the mouth, helped — Trapped

Ep 39-40 : None

>> More Whump List

[dairy-farmer]

Tim getting lobotomised from the villain of the week, now Bruce has to look after him in every way (including sexually). Dick and Jason are sad that Tim's changed at first but slowly they accept it and it brings them back together as a family, Tim seems happier now anyway, watching children's shows, carrying around his plushies, getting fucked, being bathed, why bother trying to fix him when it makes them all happier? (Maybe Bruce even arranged it in the first place to keep him from leaving)

tim becoming permanently injured snaps something among them. because it's one thing being killed, another thing becoming physically and mentally scarred. with tim it's a deliberate act of cruelty designed to extract the most pain from tim's friends and family by forcing them to see what they've taken away from tim.

tim. poor tim. they were too late. it's not until his distress beacon turns on, activated by this new villain that decided to make their name by taking out one of the 'birds' of gotham, that they arrive.

his injuries are minor. some rope burn around his wrists and a cauterized circular scar above tim's eyes where the sick fuck had used a laser to sever tim's prefrontal cortex.

they don't want to believe at first. but the villain had left documentation, scans, taunts to show them how they were a "threat" to be taken seriously. they track him down in a matter of hours, it's the fastest they've ever caught a rogue. they won't go to arkham. it's highly unlikely they will ever even leave a hospital bed for the rest of their lives given the damage jason had done. because unfortunately for that villain, red hood had gotten to their location three minutes before anyone else and that had been more than enough time for him to instill his own personal brand of justice.

they extend every effort they can to fix this. leslie says there's not much she can do. yes she's a doctor but neurology is not her specialty but even without it she knows that...injuries with the brain are very complex and intricate matters. bruce extends every effort. he flies in doctors, specialists, doctors who have been retired for years but had been the best of the best, professors who don't even practice but have done more for the branch of science than anyone else, he gets special permission to visit villains in prison to get consults from them even though it burns the ethics seared into his bones but he can't deny that some of them know their stuff.

in the end its the same. the brain is complex. it's a deeply important organ but so much of it is still an enigma. bruce is given prescriptions for tim, recommendations for therapists for him, told that his support is all he can offer, a few of them even tell him that...that a care home might be the best option for tim if he doesn't feel equipped to deal with someone who is disabled.

at every person who can't help him bruce and the others grow more desperate. they're thinking of consulting magic users but zatanna says that's not their specialty. bruce thinks of consulting that short list of metas the league has of those with healing powers but none are particularly skilled and can only hear minor cuts and breaks. bruce thinks...of the pit...

and stops himself. and in a moment knows he's gone too far because he knows that tim would never want that. he wouldn't want the pit. and so...with a heavy heart bruce calls it off. tells the others to stop their desperate search for a cure or a fix. they have to accept this. tim is still alive, he's still tim. the brother and son they all love so much. and tim might be a little hurt and a little less of himself but that doesn't mean they love him any less.

so they have to try, to try and adjust to how things are now. it's easier than they thought it would be. but also hard in ways they hadn't expected.

tim had a temper sometimes, tim was a grouch in the mornings, tim got angry and always knew what to say to hurt someone, tim was independent, tim was private, tim was funny, tim was rude, tim stood up for himself, tim never hesitated to call them out on their shit.

tim was an incredibly self sufficient person. he was like a plant that could go months without being watered and it wouldn't die. he was resilient. and they didn't realize how much tim was away and absent until they saw him each day to help him. bath him, dress him, feed him.

tim isn't fully helpless. there's some element of cognition he retained given that he still refuses to eat the navy beans that alfred makes for lunch one day. tim has preferences, things he likes and wants and enjoys. it's easy to love tim like this. he's so...simple. so easy to please and make happy and ask for forgiveness.

dick holds and kisses the top of tim's head all afternoon while movie after movie plays and tim doesn't fuss or whine once.

damian finds it easy to endear tim to him by offering little gifts. chocolates, candy, stuffed animals. things that make tim trust him without a second thought and it soothes some hurt indignation inside him that had always simmered because he and tim had never really fallen into that easy relationship once damian had stopped wanting to kill him.

jason...jason finds an ease at being with tim. a simplicity. he'd always harbored some suspicion towards the other. he was...conniving. sneaky. it was just hard to believe his words and not feel like he was being conned or used as some pawn in a bigger scheme because jason wasn't cooperative and when bruce wanted something that's what HE did and everyone said that bruce and tim were so similar...

maybe it's cruel. fucking disgusting even. but...jason likes tim better this way. tim's capacity for trickery has been greatly cut down. jason could ask if tim spoiled his dinner by eating chocolates when he wasn't supposed to and tim would clutch a stuffed hippo close and say he didn't, all while melted chocolate would be smeared on his lips and cheeks. tim is an open book. and with a family full of bats its a breath of fresh air. even alfred isn't fully transparent. with tim there's an honesty between them.

tim is different now. softer, weaker...sweeter.

they get used to him fast. tim requires more careful attention but its nothing they aren't willing to do.

until dick goes to get tim dressed for the day and finds his panties soaked through and tim making soft sounds and pressing his thighs together.

and bruce tells them that tim may have become changed mentally but his body is still very much that of a young adult. that he has needs and desires even if he can't understand them or do anything about them.

and they try to ignore it initially. dick cleans between tim's legs and ignores tim's soft noises and the wet stickiness coating his thighs. they ignore the soft slopes of tim's body, the hard ridges and lines of him having softened from retirement.

tim grows agitated, frustrated, upset. bruce already had tim on birth control because the pain of his period would just confuse and cause him unnecessary pain.

so..jason brings up a possible solution. an idea. there are...toys they can give to tim, things to help him along. tim's clearly in discomfort.

and they do. they try to offer them but tim doesn't understand what to do with them. he gets frustrated, upset.

so...they need to help him. just like how they have to help tim in other ways now they have to help him like this. if that means they help part tim open and press a toy in before turning it on so tim can squirm and writhe on it well, that's just part of the job.

they escalate without realizing it.

sometimes they're out in the garden or on the couch in the sitting room, or in the library and tim gets needy... but they don't want to go all the way to tim's room where they store his toys. so...they just use their fingers. their hands are clean so it should be okay and tim seems to enjoy it so much more. he's curled up close and weakly clutching at their clothes while they press fingers in and gently rub at his front- so they keep doing that until they suddenly they don't use the toys anymore.

damian is the one who gets curious. he's young, he's horny, he's curious- they really should've realized that. and damian after having his fingers dripping and hand drenched with tim's..release. he grows...curious. the smell, the taste...

before he knows it he's using his mouth on tim instead of his fingers and tim just likes it so much better. he gets all sweet and pliant afterwards and damian likes seeing the different reactions so he keeps doing it until dick finds him with his head buried under tim's skirt while tim squirms and whines on the carpet, his hands wrapped tightly around a stuffed giraffe.

damian doesn't get...grounded. but he is reprimanded by dick for allowing tim to lie on the floor which could hurt his back and for making tim's panties messy and not properly cleaning him up.

it progresses. it just does. suddenly dick is gently poking the head of his cock into tim, checking his reactions and whispering assurances and telling tim that dick will make sure this feels good that he wants tim to know what this feels like because he will never have gotten to feel it otherwise.

sex with tim is nice, he's so vocal and doesn't hesitate to express how much he enjoys something which is refreshing. every person dick had ever fucked always tried to retain some kind of dignity or clung to the idea that they needed to pretend like he wasn't good at what he was doing to 'check his ego' or something. tim reaches for him, kissing at his cheeks, and whines so sweetly and breathlessly when dick presses in nice and deep filling up his baby cunt with cock. tim is tight and hot and so pliable and easy to move around into good positions and though dick may have been hesitant at first that changes after the first time he sinks his cock into tim with a thick wet sound.

it's good. it's nice. its addicting fucking tim. pumping their hard cocks into him, watching it disappear into tim's hot little cunt, pressing flush to his puffy lips, gently fondling his baby tits, and fucking him in all different ways until he's clenching hard and going 'ah ah ah' on their cocks while the head is pressed right against the entrance to his womb and their spilling ribbons of warm cum all over his walls.

tim is so much happier after they fuck him. he cooperates better, behaves better, has less tantrums, is more affectionate. its a win win for all of them.

the only rule to it is that they're not allowed to fuck tim through the night.

'you're robbing him of his sleep' bruce scolds them after tim can barely stay awake at breakfast because damian had kept him awake the entire night by fucking him. its the reason tim sleeps in bruce's bed with him at night, so none of them get any ideas and also so bruce can prevent tim from rolling off the bed.

it also means bruce is the first of them to get to fuck tim as soon as he wakes up when his cunt is all warm and wet. bruce enjoys fucking tim's thighs, not quite trusting himself to push in. he's significantly bigger than his sons after all, even jason doesn't try to work in more than half his cock. but tim seems content either way, laying under him, underwear and little shorts pushed down to his knees, shirt pushed up to expose little, pink tits. bruce coats his cock in wetness and fucks the wet seam, listing to the thick wet noises and squishes as tim whines and grinds up against him.

truly tim has never been happier. the family has never been happier, and bruce has never been more content.

he knew when he'd found that new villain's plans during his raid of the office building they worked to track down a different criminal that he'd made the right choice in stepping back. he'd considered how things would turn out and they'd far exceeded his expectations.

sabotaging tim's distress beacon to delay by half an hour once activated was the best decision bruce had ever made. tim had been making to many moves that had bruce tensing, making too much talk of perhaps moving to san francisco permanently.

no. at least this way bruce's family stayed together. and thats all that really mattered in the end.

[autisticrosewilson]

Okay okay, but what if- Talia is the doctor that Catherine goes to when she starts getting sick. Maybe Jason is interning at the same hospital Talia works at (she moved to Gotham for Bruce but they're...not working out) when it starts getting bad and so he brings Cathy to the best doctor he knows. Technically, Talia is supposed to do any of these procedures for free. In fact she could get very fired for it, but she's the best damn doctor in Gotham and her work son needs help. So she agrees, and it's a very good thing because without intensive treatment Catherine would certainly suffer until the gruesome end.

Well, they go through with the treatment, and somehow manage to hide it all from the higher ups (likely with bribery), and Talia starts getting to know her patient. Catherine is...a lot. She's sharp and clever and sweet. She used to bring coffee and pastries to share for lunch before she was confined to her bed. She likes braiding Talia's hair since her own is too brittle to touch these days. Sometimes she asks Talia to do her makeup, to make her look a little more alive than she feels.

Talia thinks they both know that the treatment isn't going to work for long, at most Talia can keep her on enough painkillers for it to be painless but time is running out. The most Catherine can hope for is making it to Jason's graduation. Sweet, worried Jason who visits Catherine as often as he can, diligently doing his homework at her bedside as if he can rush his graduation anymore than he already has. Maybe he knows that she doesn't have much longer too. Catherine hopes so, because she can't bear being the one to tell him. Talia thinks it might ruin her as much as Jason if she has to tell him their Cathy has a scant few months left.

Ra's doesn't mind sharing for a good cause, the pit is constantly regenerating itself after all, it's not like he's really losing anything. But Gotham isn't exactly known for birthing people who are pure of heart, he fears what a corrupted soul might do to the pit. He demands to meet the woman Talia is so insistent on saving. He knows better than most that his daughter's heart can be soft, often for people who don't deserve it. It's that same love that stole her away to the cursed land to begin with.

And Jason insists on coming with, naturally. So for the first time in months Catherine is out of bed to go on what might be her last trip if this experimental, vague cure doesn't work. Her last trip as her if it doesn't work as intended. She's nervous, and not just because she's never been on a private jet before. She agrees that Jason can come but she refuses to let him in the room. She doesn't like the sickly green glow beyond the door and she won't risk him getting radiation poisoning,nor worse.

Ra's as it turns out, is far more interested in Jason than Catherine when they get there, which Talia is hardly surprised by. Damian is still a baby, just beginning to toddle around and while he just adores his grandfather, babies aren't the best company. The fact that Jason is a humanities buff and a child prodigy certainly helps. Talia hardly has to convince him of anything, he's ushering them into the basement before the week-long trip has even reached the third day.

He insists he be the one to conduct the procedure, however. Jason and Talia are left to sit on the stairs at the end of the hall as Ra's wheels Catherine into Lazarus room.

Talia has to put her full weight into holding him when Catherine starts screaming.

[khepiari]

Hyped Up Rambling: Spoilers for ONE PIECE Chapter 1104

There are many daddies in One Piece.

But there is only one person who deserves the title of FATHER!

And it’s you, sir Kuma.

As much as I have grievances with Odachii, this is an arc written by a father for his daughter.

Parental love hurts. But still, parents continue to love their children despite the pain, loss, fear, and hardship.

Again I am reminding you all. The series finale actually began exactly two years back when Luffy punched Saint Charlos.

Kuma just continued the fight that Luffy lit the fire for! As my best friend put it, “Kuma is following in Joy Boy’s footsteps. Bringing light to the world…”

Even a “slave”, stripped and robbed of all his rights, mental prowess, and dignity and abused to the point of being on the brink of death will FIGHT TO PROTECT! A slave who lost everything rose up on his two feet to protect his child and punched the man who sits on the highest seat of power, and Joyboy aka Luffy made it possible.

And do you know who the people in power fear the most?

The slave they robbed of autonomy.

The scholar they denied true knowledge.

The ethnic groups they massacred.

And the God Born Out Of People’s Despair who comes to seek vengeance.

AND KUMA IS ALL!

May I also remind you all, Borsalino is worse than Sakazuki, he is a scum without any hope in him or in anyone. He is scarier than a straight-cut villain like Sakazuki.

There is a reason idealists are easier to defeat than cynics. You can’t beat a deadbeat easily.

My favourite rascals! Franky and Sanji have no chill! They went after Saturn, without any fear or hesitation, just like they went after Saint Roswald, Doflamingo and Big Mum. Their brain operates on: we are Future Pirate King’s Crew, we will kick anyone who is a scum!

I still can’t believe so many people hate Franky! The dude has literally the least count of losses and the funniest battles! Because he doesn’t fight one one-on-one guy, and he shines in the fights when minions and their bosses are involved against lone him! In Dressrosa he ran wild; kissed a girl (yes without consent; thanks scum Odachii) to defeat her, had a hard-boiled match with Senor Pink, destroyed the SAD factory and went to support the fairies on his own! And In Wano he ran his monster bike right into Big Mom’s face and knocked her out! We need more Franky love!

And finally!

I don’t like to pit series against series, but this is how you utilize the most cliché theme in the entire world: LOVE. You have to show it with actions and gestures and not tell it to your readers. Yes, Gege, I mean you brat; do better.

Why do you think we the readers and viewers still crumble at the theme of love? It’s extremely simple.

Love is radical.

Love is unpredictable.

Love is powerful.

And time and again in One Piece—Love is an Anomaly.

Ace was born because of Rouge’s willpower born of love.

Sanji was able to retain his humanity because Sora did everything in her power to protect her kids.

Robin was saved because her teachers, mother, and Saul loved her so much that they chose to protect her.

Nojiko and Nami had a chance to live because Bellemere protected them.

Trafalgar Law made it through a life-threatening disease and nihilistic approach to living because Corazón bet his life on him.

Hiluluk’s love for Chopper pushed him to be the doctor who wanted to cure everyone.

Zoro’s love for Kuna is what pushes him to work hard.

Because Franky wants to protect his “Family” he becomes the face of criminal activities.

Shirahoshi never revealed her mother's death circumstances because she decided to protect her mom's dream.

Examples of love changing the course of history are endless in One Piece, hence we should remember: Love is the invariant.

[heartfullofleeches]

There once was a witch.

Yandere Candy Folk + G.N Sweets Witch Reader Teaser

An: A taste of what was meant to be a blurb, but became more. Hope it peaks your interest and I'd love to hear theories on where you might think the plot will go

-

There once was a witch.

The first of her kind.

"A candy witch? What a ridiculous idea!" She was quick to disagree.

"It is my magic. If I can't do for me first, I haven't the heart nor time to do a thing for others."

Her mother had been the town doctor with her healing magic, and her mother's mother nurtured the barren lands they founded their village upon. Her mentors encouraged her spirit - cautioning to keep her roots close to heart. The young witch had not a care for their warnings nor the people around her. Her goals and ambitions were met much closer to home right - in the pit of her stomach. The girl found even great tragedy could become the sweetest delight with the right confectionery. A spoonful of sugar a day kept most of her troubles away. Outside of home, she was mocked and ridiculed for her dreams. How selfish and cruel was she to use her birthrights for her own agenda. Without her, the town would be left unprotected. As the day of her ascension to power drew near, the kind eyes and faces around her turned scornful. The witch wore a brave face, but she did not have the same guise to protect her behind closed doors. She cried through every spoonful.

Had it not been for that one person, she would've given up on everything.

"My birthday is the day after your coronation. If you do become a sweets witch like you say, would you make the cake?"

That person gave her a tooth ache no amount of her mother's magic could cure. Everything she ate hours after their meeting tasted bland and bitter. Nothing in her entire pantry could be sweeter than that smile. They were the child of the town baker who saved a loaf of sweet bread for her every week, and her first and only friend. Against her own word, she acted from the kindest of her heart and did as they pleaded. The cake was an extravagant piece; nearly twice the size of banquet table it stood upon and tiered with every flavor she could think of. The light in their eyes was brighter than the flames all six dozen chocolate candies held. The witch's fingers were in her mouth more than her fork as she had to make sure her teeth had rotted and fallen out. Her family had always given her praise, but that silent display of gratitude and wonder opened her heart. She wanted to see that expression more - on their face and beyond. She would come a witch for the mass, like every witch in her family before her.

The newly appointed candy witch became an apprentice not at her mother's clinic, but the baker's kitchen. The two youths were inseparable with the time they spent as one. They swore to run the shop together when the mantle was passed down. Balancing magic and her culinary skills, the witch uncovered numerous feats in her time. In doing so, she learned she had the influence from any element of craft - so long as they were baked into her treats. She infused healing magic into her scones, created truffles that turned hair the same color as their filling. She built a house for her and her friend to live made out of gingerbread and sugar glass. Everyone was happy.

Too happy.

The town's people demanded more than she had already gave. They wanted sweets that could increase their wealth or assure their hand in marriage. The witch began to double back on her old beliefs. Being wed was a necessity as food and shelter were. She hadn't confessed to her true love yet either - so why should others get what she hadn't the guts to? They grew angry, she locked herself away in her home - unaware that her sweet friend was the new outlet for their fury. They ran the store and stocked it's shelves with her treats all by themselves; returning home with a smile and hidden wrists. The witch knew something was off, but she never bothered to ask as their smile was still as sweet as it was the day they met. She never questioned a thing - until it was too late.

Left all alone in a place that reminds her of what she lost at every turn, and people so uncaring of her grief and pain - the witch went mad. These savages acted as if they cared, reassuring her her love would return while holding out a hand for their reward. Selfish. Greedy. Demanding... Murders. If they hadn't asked for so much, her friend never would have tried to become a witch on their own to help their community. A task proved too taxing on their untrained body. The witch could not help those deep in the hell of their own making. She still longed to make others happy, but her talents were wasted on these dreaded husks known as humans. She would create her own town - with people made of the treats of her youth. They would never take her for granted and they would never die - the only securities she needed. The witch would clear out the entire town and make room for her and her candy companions were they would love the rest of their days in eternal peace. What the witch didn't know...

Was that they'd betray her worst of all.

-

The bell chimes above a confection shop's door. Wiping sweat from their brow with their forearm, a figure curses beneath their breath; hunched over a lit stove.

"Shoot..... Just a minute!"

[bramble-mouse]

The Faery Doctor

Chapter 3

Tags: G/t, gentle giant, timid tiny, fantasy setting, adventure Content warnings will be tagged appropriately for subsequent chapters. These may include death, gore and vore. They will include no sexual themes. CW: Mention of non-fatal vore. Minors, please do not interact!

“Trish, love, you’ve got to wake up.”A woman with tight brown curls perched on the edge of a low bed, a wooden tray in hand containing a bowl of clear, steaming broth. The child in bed let out a soft whine, sniffling. Her nose was running and red, her lips chapped and her throat on fire.“Mummy…”Trish whimpered. The fever had taken her so suddenly, and her entire body ached. The sensation was so new and horrible. She felt afraid.Trish’s mother put her palm to the child’s forehead.“I know, my love, I know.”She soothed, smoothing dark curls away from Trish’s freckled face.“Try to get down just a little broth and you can go right back to sleep.”She sat up at her mother’s behest, and with guiding hands, the child sipped what she could.

The waking world ripped Trish free of her dream, of her mother’s warm hands.. Her throat was sore as she sat up and gasped for air. Trish recalled crushing walls of muscle, deafening gurgles, the spray of acid. She shivered and hugged her arms. Was she dead? The bandages bound around her forearm, reeking of a simple poultice told a different story. Trish continued to fight for even breath as she inspected the work- careful, precise. She tethered herself to the smell of medicinal herbs a moment before she chance a look around. Trish sat atop a massive cushion, covered in a knitted blanket. It was warm, the wool soft to the touch. The cushion she rested on sat before a fireplace, the flames hot and dancing gently upon tree sized fuel.

The ground beneath began to shake rhythmically. Giant footfalls. A shadow fell over her and when Trish turned to peer up, she let out a surprised yelp.

“My apologies once more, doctor.” Frio smiled wanly. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Trish laid her hand on her chest and nodded mutely. The frost giant bent down (far less terrifying than staring up 80 feet vertically) and crouched beside the woman on the cushion. “Though I suppose startling you so soon after waking measures rather low on my list of transgressions against you.” Trish gently rubbed her wrist beneath where the bandaging lay. “No, I…” She tried to say something, but the words caught in her throat. She glanced up towards Frio. Even with her poor eyesight, her was large enough to still make out good detail. “W-Where are my…” A clawed forefinger and thumb extended, offering Trish’s round glasses. “I thought you would prefer them back cleaned.” Trish recalled the mess within the frost giant’s belly. She shuddered to think how much worse things had been only a few hours prior. “...Thank you.” Trish spoke and accepted her glasses back, unfolding and setting them on the slope of her nose. She blinked a few times then tilted her head back. “H…How are you feeling?” Frio chuckled. “You passed out and you are asking about my well-being?” “Y-You are the one who had an injury.” Trish countered, her face going red. The frost giant laughed all the harder, the sound rumbling through Trish’s bone. He laid down on his side, smiling. Those same pale eyes settled on the faery doctor again and she felt as if she were being swallowed by him again. “A valid point.” Frio extended his finger tip again. “May I have a look at your arm again, my dear?” Trish’s lips parted in an ‘o’. “Did…did you really dress my burns?” Frio hummed. “A far cry from the work your skilled hand is capable of, but I have learned a few simple cures.” Trish nodded, lifted her bandaged arm and rested her hand atop his finger pad. The frost giant moved closer to inspect the wound. He sniffed at it gently. “Mmn. Does it still hurt?” He inquired. Frio’s deep voice was still so near that Trish felt its resonance in the pit of her belly. “N-No, not so terribly.” She replied. Frio hummed again in confirmation. He continued to eye the bandages on the woman’s arm. His eyes weighed down with remorse once more. He leaned forward to gently brush his lips against Trish’s arm. “That’s good.” He sighed, relieved. His breath was cool, fresh. Frio carefully brushed the back of Trish’s hand with his thumb. “What do you take in your tea?” The frost giant inquired. Trish stared up slack jawed at Frio, a thousand miles away. If it were possible, Trish’s ears would let out bursts of flustered steam. “Wh…S..Sorry, what…what was the…” Frio’s mirth crept out softly, a sound Trish felt more than heard. He asked again patiently. “Sugar and milk in your tea?” Trish nodded her head furiously. 

The frost giant appeared entirely amused at her reactions. His eyes danced over her little form with great interest. “Then a cup of tea with sugar and milk you shall have.” He winked, carefully removed his hand from her vicinity and rose again.

Frio’s height made Trish’s stomach drop. He was utterly massive, a mountain of a man that moved with a silent predator’s grace. She’d expected frost giants to be great lumbering beasts, not refined fellows. She watched Frio return to his kitchen gesture towards a clay tea pot. At his command, a carefully measured stream of hot tea flowed from the spout and into a tiny cup carved from stone. Frio balanced the cup between a forefinger and thumb before returning to her.

“Th…Thank you.” Trish breathed as she took the pro-offered cup. Frio crouched again. “Let me know if you should like anything to eat as well, doctor.” He assured, then settled in next to her again, sitting with his long legs stretched out, a frigid cup of tea of his own size in his free hand. He took a sip and Trish winced when she heard him swallow, watched his Adam’s Apple bob. The fire crackled softly as the pair sat there drinking tea and eventually, Frio rose to get them a scone (snowberry, freshly baked) to share. She enjoyed her chunk in a rather rodentlike manner, nibbling away at the top as Frio bit carefully into his, the frost giant’s attempt at manners rather at odds with sharp claws, sharp teeth and impossible size. Once finished, Frio folded his hands over his stomach and looked down at Trish. “I imagine you will tire of my saying this, but…I am grateful for your bravery.” He said, his voice nearly a whisper. “I cannot think of a single human who would be willing to go so far for a strange frost giant. You could have made the choice to leave me to my pain and I would not have blamed you for it.” Trish held her cup in both hands. “Leaving a person in that state, I…” Trish chewed her lower lip “I would no longer be fit to be called a doctor.” “You risked your life for me, Doctor Mctavish.” Frio insisted “To cure me of a little indigestion.” “Indigestion my f-foot!” Trish blurted out “You had the beginnings of a terribly nasty ulcer, and had I left it alone, a hole in your stomach!” Frio tilted his head to the side. “I stand corrected.” He conceded rather easily. “I shall rephrase: you risked your life to save me from a terrible fate. I am in your debt twice over.” Trish let out a few incoherent, wobbling sounds as she sought to deny him, but failed utterly. She fiddled with the ends of her hair. It was still so gross, reeking of bile. “A bath, my dear?” Frio inquired. Trish squawked in reply. Frio burst out laughing. Trish whined and hid her face in her hands. A bath meant getting naked in front of a man she hardly knew. A very large, very handsome, very charming man. “You need not be self-conscious on my account, if such is the case.” Frio reassured. “After all, you’ve seen me in as vulnerable state as is possible.” He traced a clawtip absent-mindedly over his belly through his shirt. “Fret not. I’ve no intention of acting untoward. I will give you privacy when you are ready.” Gods. He was a gentleman. Very large, very handsome, very charming and a gentleman. Why wasn’t he a bit smaller? Oh, but what in the world was she thinking, entertaining thoughts like that about a patient? Was she a smitten school girl? Well, perhaps a touch. But not enough to override her sense of professionalism as a doctor. “I-I would never suppose that…that you would.” Trish mumbled. “I…Th…Thank you. As…As soon as you should like to..to prepare a bath. I…I don’t want to intrude on you.” Frio arched his brow. “Intruding would imply I am not entirely enthusiastic to host you in my home, little doctor.” He drawled.

Trish fiddled with the ruined lace ends of her stays. She would need to make or purchase new ones after this. One tea cup full of soap and water later, Frio turned his head as she sank into the bath he’d set up for the faery doctor on the counter top. He whisked away the woman’s dirty under things and set about carefully cleaning them up in a bowl of water. He hummed while he did.

As Trish cleaned her hair, she listened to the sweet sound of the giant’s voice, wordless and filled the relative silence of his home. How could a hunter wish to hurt such a sweet soul? ‘The fat reward’.

The words of the scarred warrior from the Crooked Cat came to mind. She scrubbed at her bare skin with her hands. Greed was an evil thing and spurred men to commit foolish acts. She wondered if the fellow Frio had eaten harboured such desire before being consumed. Compassion for the thief was difficult to muster if such violence without good cause drove him. Trish closed her eyes and sank further into her make shift bath. The water was warm and refreshing, every bit of Frio’s stomach contents sloughing off of her. While Trish bathed, Frio took a seat by the fire with a book in hand, quietly reading while he awaited the woman’s indication she had finished. He’d made quick work of washing up her clothes and drying them with magic, had folded and set them next to her bath tea cup. A less polite version of Frio wondered how Trish would look without all the water and soap bubbles to conceal her. She was such a skinny little thing, delicate and pretty like a bird. The monster inside him demanded he eat such a little beauty and make her his forever. HIs rational mind silenced the thought with no room for debate. He focused on his book, tracing his eyes over a series of descriptions of fauna from sandy deserts on the continent far to the south. The giant heard a swish of water. He waited a minute or two more before that soft little voice piped up. “I’m…I’m dressed.” Frio’s lips pulled up into a smile. He marked his page, set the book down on the rug next to the fire and got to his feet. He crossed to the counter and bent down to inspect Trish. The woman flush, her chaos of wet curls loose and falling to her waist. “Did…Did I miss a spot?” She asked nervously. Frio shook his head and offered a hand. “You look beautiful, my dear.” Trish stepped in his palm, sat down in the middle and pushed her round glasses up her nose.n How did one even respond to compliments like that? She wasn’t exactly used to be treated in so ladylike a manner, least of all by a patient. Frio swept her away and brought her back to fire place. There were mere embers in the hearth now, hardly burning. He considered setting her back on her cushion but he considered another course with a half smile. The giant went to his bed, laid down in the pile of cushions and set a flustered Trish atop his chest. “Forgive me if I am being a touch forward, doctor.” He chuckled, steadying her wobbling form with his gentle hand. “I thought this might be a good way for us to…talk, if you would be amiable to such before I escort you back to Dalrstead.” Trish, keenly aware of the thin layer of tunic separating her from the giant’s bare skin, lifted her doe eyes. “I…I…” She croaked. Words wouldn’t form. Frio could only laugh, brush the side of her arm gently. “I do not mean to make you nervous. It is simply more comfortable to speak this way.” His expression was soft but belied a yearning that made his wolf like eyes almost boyish. “It has been a long time since I’ve had a visitor who was here for…friendly reasons.”

‘He’s lonely.’ Trish thought. She laid still on top of that vast expanse of living body beneath her, feeling it rise and fall with Frio’s breath. His fingers smelled sweet, like the berries in the scones they’d shared despite his washing his hands. Trish wondered idly if that was simply part of his natural scent. “I…Don’t have any pressing need to return just yet.” Trish said soft and turned over onto her stomach, great big doe eyes peering up towards Frio’s face. His cheeks turned a muted red. Trish could feel his heart thumping fast beneath her. “Really?” He spoke in breathless disbelief. “Well. I…” He bit his lower lip and regarded Trish with great interest. “Would you permit us to exchange a question for a question then?” Trish shifted. The weight of Frio’s have over her body was cool, heavy but not unwelcome. On the contrary- the heaviness felt grounding, reassuring. Trish managed a shy smile as she smoothed her hand over the fabric of Frio’s tunic in front of her. She nodded. Frio hummed, sifted carefully through his thoughts before asking his first question: “How did you become a doctor?”

A/N: -drags self across ground- I FINALLY DID IT. Here’s chapter 3!

[mrcompass]

The Devil(s) of Metal Fight Beyblde.

Dr. Ziggurat, the main antagonist of Beyblade Metal Masters, shares many parallels and similarities with the Christian Devil.

He is a ruthless and manipulative executive of an enterprise called Hades Inc., who enjoys making "deals" with other people. Note that Hades and Hell were interchangeably used in Greek mythology to describe the afterlife. The deals he makes are almost like demonic contracts: Zeo had to become a lab rat to save Toby, losing his sanity in the process. Ziggurat takes advantage of desperate people like Zeo and even Julian.

Ziggurat transformed Toby into Faust, whose name comes from the main character of a German legend. Faust, inspired by Johann Georg Faust, made a contract with the devil: Mephistopheles would serve him, and after a certain number of years, the devil would take his soul. Faust sacrificed his soul either to gain knowledge or for material and personal gain, depending on the version. Toby accepted the arrangement against his will, and even if he was cured, he lost himself in the process. He can play Beyblade again, but as Faust, he is only a soulless tool.

The doctor himself seems to have "sold his soul," since he doesn't care about ethics or the fact that he is using children for his experiments. Hikaru explicitly said that some of the bladers incompatible with the arrangement system were so impacted by it that they had to end their careers.

Physically, Ziggurat appears taller than most of the cast, though this is because they are all children. He has spikes of hair at the back of his head, like Damian, that emulate horns. He also wears a dark gray suit, which contrasts sharply with all the colorful characters (even his collaborators, Daidoji and Pluto, seem more colorful than him). He is as gray and dark as the hellish world Damian creates with his Kerbecs.

His name comes from ancient structures called ziggurats, built by the Mesopotamians for cult practices. Daidoji's name means (literally) "great road/way to the temple". They were both part of the Hades cult, lead by Pluto who lived in a temple. However, Ziggurat can also be a reference to the German word "Ziege," which means goat. Ziggurat's design also emulates the animal, with his goatee and spiky hair. His Beyblade is Spiral Capricorn, and in the anime, its Bey beast is often depicted as a simple goat.

This animal is often tied to the Devil and is one of the forms it takes. The painter Goya depicted a gathering of witches with "Witches' Sabbath" (Goya, 1798), where the Devil takes the form of a goat and is offered children to eat. While the doctor doesn't (seem to) eat children, he effectively despises them and shows a lot of disdain towards them. He also steals their innocence in a way. Zeo and Toby do not take back their Aries Bey; they now use Beys with the Spiral fusion wheel, reminiscent of Spiral Capricorn. Aries is a sheep and is typically associated with innocence. They cannot go back to who they were; they are permanently scarred by what they have been through during their time in Haves Inc.

In the scene where Zeo is stopping Ziggurat, he is at the bottom of the stairs, symbolizing a shift in power dynamics between them. This positioning could also symbolize Zeo casting Ziggurat back to Hell, as Hell is below the Earth in popular culture.

"JoJo's Bizarre Adventure" has previously utilized its antagonists, DIO (assimilated to God) and Diavolo (a mafia boss, assimilated to the devil), in a similar manner. DIO is upstairs (heaven), while Diavolo is at the bottom of the stairs (hell). I would add that in the Metal Saga, it is common for villains to fall: Nemesis and Daidoji fell into a pit, and Hades City fell into the abyss of the sea.

These falls can be interpreted as both a physical defeat and a symbolic triumph over an evil that is cast back into hell.

Ziggurat is a more traditional version of the devil who makes deals with people and manipulates them, while Nemesis embodies the devil of the apocalypse, wishing for total chaos.

[bristlefrostsbbg]

All my SMG4 Aus and what are they because i feel like i have too many to count :[(Part 1)

Igbs!AU = I gotta be safe AU, A fic on my wattpad that you can read so im not gonna explain.

ANP = A new pet AU, same as Igbs.

TSATP = The siren and the prince, same as the others

SPFTM = Stellar pieces from the moon, Same on my wattpad

TLD = The living doll, Same

DD = Dreaded Delays, its a AU where 4 took too long to decide to save 3 in the pit, as 3 fell into the pit and became infected with the tentacles; and 4 saved 3 but he still got infected, and 4 held him in a prison in the basement to find the cure, and 3 accidentally escaped, attacking the crew, but 4 managed to help 3, and 3 calmed down.

Blunt!AU = Knifes are too blunt to hurt anymore. Basically PV has the crew captured, and wotfi 2024 but my own way, aka PV wants to kill 3 for the sake of it, but 4 begs for PV not to do it, and PV(somehow) agreed. PV said, if 4 would be his puppet, and 4 said to let 3 and the others go. PV happily agrees, letting them go back to the showgrounds, aka pushing them in a portal without consent. the others already planning to help 4, but they needed someone to continue 4’s channel for a bit, and everyone thought 3 was the reasonable answer. 3 doesn’t take this option well, but he had to do it. Quarter a year later, the crew get their plan up. But suddenly, 3 gets a message from PV to meet him at puzzle park. Alone. Smg3 explains his plan to find 4, and if he wasnt back in half a day, come save his ass. PV himself greets 3, leading 3 straight to the engine room, where he comes face to face with 4, and he didnt look fucked up and tortured, he was in expensive looking makeup and blah blah fuck this part , and was brainwashed, attacking 3. Cornered, 4 came up to him, 3 whispering “I love you, dude” to his lover, before a knife was stabbed into his head, knocking 3 out, and it somehow didnt hit any vital parts, like the original 4 was trying to save 3, but just dodged the vital parts, but also blinding 3. at this point, its been half a day, i forgor to mention idk im losing track sorry 4- the crew break in just in time, 4 breaking free from PV’s control when he was attacked, rushing 3 to the hospital for treatment. And helping 4 get his sanity back. Half a month later, 3 finally wakes up(not fully just so they know hes still alive), and sappy shit blah blah i hate my job, and a day later, 4 goes into the now destroyed puzzle park, looking for anything for some reasons im still inventing, and finds destroyed PV’s head all fucked up. Smg4 was gonna leave it, but he realised that if he had PV at his mercy, he could get his revenge. 4 brought PV back, taping his limb holes idk bro to prevent PV from escaping. After PV woke up, and got BRUTALLY FUCKING smashed by 4 multiple tjmes, he realised PV was converted into a inmobile TV head now, for his body was beyond repair and was separated from his body which was burnt in Puzzle park. 4 threatened PV that if 3 was in any way damaged permanently, he would kill PV immediately. 3, although he survived the attack, still suffered damage, his two eyeballs’s films were shattered and damaged, causing him to be literally almost blind, but his left eye could see out barely, and the doctors gave him a special idk fucking shit i made it up, and he could see at least something better. He slowly recovered, being well enough for 4 to meet 3, and 4 apologised for everything, crying and sobbing, before 4 suddenly kissed 3, confessing he had heard everything. Smg4 also told the whole situation about PV, and 3 gradually accepted it, as long as he could beat up PV again. Then 3 was better, going back to the showgrounds, getting used to his blind ass. He kinda already got a prescription for glasses, but he simply ignored it and used the glasses whenever he generally couldnt see, and 3 faced PV, and insert beating up. Then, 3 SOMEHOW broke a vital wire in PV’s head, causing PV to lose his grip on the TV, cause he is still human at heart, and boom die :3 Then insert happy ending idk bro im tired

I’ll probably write Part 2 soon man

[haggishlyhagging]

During the '80s, mannequins set the beauty trends—and real women were expected to follow. The dummies were "coming to life," while the ladies were breathing anesthesia and going under the knife. The beauty industry promoted a "return to femininity" as if it were a revival of natural womanhood—a flowering of all those innate female qualities supposedly suppressed in the feminist '70s. Yet the "feminine" traits the industry celebrated most were grossly unnatural—and achieved with increasingly harsh, unhealthy, and punitive measures.

The beauty industry, of course, has never been an advocate of feminist aspirations. This is not to say that its promoters have a conscious political program against women's rights, just a commercial mandate to improve on the bottom line. And the formula the industry has counted on for many years—aggravating women's low self-esteem and high anxiety about a "feminine" appearance—has always served them well. (American women, according to surveys by the Kinsey Institute, have more negative feelings about their bodies than women in any other culture studied.) The beauty makers' motives aren't particularly thought out or deep. Their overwrought and incessant instructions to women are more mindless than programmatic; their frenetic noise generators create more static than substance. But even so, in the '80s the beauty industry belonged to the cultural loop that produced backlash feedback. Inevitably, publicists for the beauty companies would pick up on the warning signals circulating about the toll of women's equality, too—and amplify them for their own purposes.

"Is your face paying the price of success?" worried a 1988 Nivea skin cream ad, in which a business-suited woman with a briefcase rushes a child to day care and catches a glimpse of her career-pitted skin in a store window. If only she were less successful, her visage would be more radiant. "The impact of work stress . . . can play havoc with your complexion," Mademoiselle warned; it can cause "a bad case of dandruff," "an eventual loss of hair" and, worst of all, weight gain. Most at risk, the magazine claimed, are "high-achieving women," whose comely appearance can be ravaged by "executive stress." In ad after ad, the beauty industry hammered home its version of the backlash thesis: women's professional progress had downgraded their looks; equality had created worry lines and cellulite. This message was barely updated from a century earlier, when the late Victorian beauty press had warned women that their quest for higher education and employment was causing "a general lapse of attractiveness" and "spoiling complexions."

The beauty merchants incited fear about the cost of women's occupational success largely because they feared, rightly, that that success had cost them—in profits. Since the rise of the women's movement in the '70s, cosmetics and fragrance companies had suffered a decade of flat-to-declining sales, hair-product merchandisers had fallen into a prolonged slump, and hairdressers had watched helplessly as masses of female customers who were opting for simple low-cost cuts defected to discount unisex salons. In 1981, Revlon's earnings fell for the first time since 1968; by the following year, the company's profits had plunged a record 40 percent. The industry aimed to restore its own economic health by persuading women that they were the ailing patients—and professionalism their ailment. Beauty became medicalized as its lab-coated army of promoters, and real doctors, prescribed physician-endorsed potions, injections for the skin, chemical "treatments" for the hair, plastic surgery for virtually every inch of the torso. (One doctor even promised to reduce women's height by sawing their leg bones.) Physicians and hospital administrators, struggling with their own financial difficulties, joined the industry in this campaign. Dermatologists faced with a shrinking teen market switched from treating adolescent pimples to "curing" adult female wrinkles. Gynecologists and obstetricians frustrated with a sluggish birthrate and skyrocketing malpractice premiums traded their forceps for liposuction scrapers. Hospitals facing revenue shortfalls opened cosmetic-surgery divisions and sponsored extreme and costly liquid-protein diet programs.

The beauty industry may seem the most superficial of the cultural institutions participating in the backlash, but its impact on women was, in many respects, the most intimately destructive—to both female bodies and minds. Following the orders of the '80s beauty doctors made many women literally ill. Antiwrinkle treatments exposed them to carcinogens. Acid face peels burned their skin. Silicone injections left painful deformities. "Cosmetic" liposuction caused severe complications, infections, and even death. Internalized, the decade's beauty dictates played a role in exacerbating an epidemic of eating disorders. And the beauty industry helped to deepen the psychic isolation that so many women felt in the '80s, by reinforcing the representation of women's problems as purely personal ills, unrelated to social pressures and curable only to the degree that the individual woman succeeded in fitting the universal standard—by physically changing herself.

-Susan Faludi, Backlash: the Undeclared War Against American Women

[maximwtf]

“I’ll promise you this.”

                                  Julian Devorak x Reader

words: 1200

google docs pages: 2.5

Warnings: description of the red plague and the symptoms, death.

opening: Julian is so busy working on the cure for the plague, that he doesn’t notice you, his apprentice falling ill. He comes to find out about your condition when he finds you locked in his office. 

AN// Does this fandom have any demand on here anymore? I have no idea. I’ve still come back to this fandom after all these years, because I saw 1 picture of Julian on my Pinterest feed. (Reader can be any gender)

                                 “I’ll promise you this.”

It had started as a simple cough, and if you hadn’t been working as hard as you were, you might have realised that it wasn’t just a simple cough. Being Julian’s apprentice made you work as hard as you could for the cure, which led you to ignore your own health most of the time. This all put together got you to ignore the symptoms of the very thing you were searching a cure for. But you not noticing what had been going on, didn’t mean that no one had noticed. As the cough got worse and your temperature began to rise, Valdemar noticed. 

It was already night, and you had been planning to leave soon, only collecting some of your things from the dungeons before getting out of there. A voice caught your attention, you weren’t alone anymore. “Doctor 069 left you something in his office. He requested for you to see it as soon as possible.” Valdemar’s cold voice said. You could only let out an agreeing hum, accompanied by a firm nod. You snapped your bag shut, and slowly swayed your way to Julian’s office. You could tell there was a fever rising in your body, and by today you had come to accept the fact that you had fallen ill without noticing. A nasty cough escaped your mouth but that didn’t startle you, the slam from behind you did. It was as if your body turned around on its own to see what had happened. The office door had been slammed shut, and before you could speak a word the key on the other side of the door turned, clicking it locked. “W-what?” You asked, leaning on the wooden table behind you. “You obviously got a case of the plague. We can’t have you getting others ill as well, can we?” Valdemar’s cold voice replied as they walked away. The heels of their shoes clicked against the hard floor, before disappearing completely.

You slumped down onto Julian’s chair, chest feeling heavy. It was true that you’d be a danger to others out there, but this wasn’t the place you would have ever thought of having to die in. Gaze following along and slumping down to your hands, you could see the redness starting from the tips of your fingers, soon it would spread more. This morning your left eye had seemed a little red, and by now it must have been worse. There was no mirror to fact check that from, but you had taken care of enough patients to know how the symptoms progressed. Time would pass in the cold dungeons, and as the fiver would rise you’d slowly start to get more delirious. 

Time passed, but you couldn't count the hours anymore. Your vision felt blurry and a cold sweat kept you feeling uneasy. The only sound you could hear were the bugs in the pit, feeding on their latest meal. It disgusted you, or would have if you weren't in the delirious state you had thought about earlier. Nothing made sense, time felt like it didn’t exist anymore and sometimes when you gained a little bit of your sense back you’d find yourself either sitting on the cold floor or sitting on the chair with your head in your hands. Your body shook. 

Through all this, you couldn’t hear what was going on outside the small office. But someone had heard you, heard the heavy breathing and painful sounding coughs. Julian had a worried look on his face as he fumbled with his keys, clicking the lock open and revealing your worn out form, leaning against the table. “Y/n!” He exclaimed as the keys fell from his hands, clinking as they went down. The doctor was quickly by your side, leaning you off of the table to get a look at you. “Open your eyes for me dear.” He said silently, tapping your cheek a little to get you to cooperate. His eyes went over your form frantically, not even noticing that he was biting down on his bottom lip. A groan left your mouth as you opened your eyes, gaze wandering around the grim room. That was enough for Julian to see the scleras of your eyes had turned red. The one that had started to go earlier was a deeper shade, the other had just begun the process. Julian took a napkin from his coat, wiping the cold sweat from your forehead in a desperate attempt to help you. Your hand shook as it lifted up to take a hold of his wrist, barely hanging on. “Stop. You’ll get infected.” You groaned out, looking up at him. His eyes on the other hand were on your palm, watching the red that had spread even more from the tips of your fingers. “How did I not notice…” He scolded himself the same way you had seen him do many times in the past. “We’ve both been busy.” You mumbled as a response, feeling the sense in you being pulled away by the high fever.It almost felt like something was taking over you, not allowing you to think properly. 

A loud rumbling noise filled the room as Julian sweeped half of the items from the table to the floor, some of them he slid into a compartment. “Come on dear, we’ll get you all healed up.” He murmured as he lifted you to the table, laying you to your side, in a position he had found the patients at this stage found the easiest to breathe in. “I’ll get some leeches and we’ll-” His almost frantic voice said, not being able to hide his sheer panic and regret much longer. “There is no need for that.” You growled out, trying to keep a hold of your mind as it spiralled. “Surely you don’t think I’m leaving you to die here?” The doctor said in a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, mostly for himself. “What is there to do?” A much weaker cough escaped from you. “If you wish to help me, find the cure after I pass. Then my work was not for nothing.” You added slowly, the fever making you see things. You might have only been an apprentice, but you knew what a good fever was capable of. Your comment seemed to have stunned Julian in a way for a moment, since he didn’t say anything. 

The doctor's hands had formed into fists, anger in him boiling as the knowledge of not being able to do anything for you slowly set in. Could have he prevented this if he had noticed earlier? You didn’t deserve this. If anyone deserved this, it was him. He should be laying on that table, alone. Julian easened his jaw, and spoke up. “I’ll find the cure. I’ll promise you that my dear.” He looked down, hair falling over the white raven-like mask. There was no response from you anymore, and wouldn’t be for a long time. 

[exghul]

[/league/lazarus] ENTRY 001.

DAY 004, 16:12Z. west of nanda parbat. the league of assassins is a centuries old myth made flesh: a group of half-maddened shadows that all follow a single timeless man with the goal of molding the world into his image. they work as a uniform body, each a muscle under the scrutiny of the head of the demon. few ghouls leave the side of their master, for who would forsake such intoxicating power to live among mortals again? to have the demon's favor is to be afforded the life-giving powers of the lazarus pits.

from the breast of the source came the seven forces of the universe, with life force & death force being the most important in their relation to the league. the death force is a primordial energy which is intangible to mortal & immortal alike -- though exceptional mortals have briefly harnessed it with disastrous results, such as the possession of the tear of extinction by the late king arion of atlantis.

those who live through brushes with the death force are said to have become corrupt, necrotic bastardizations of their former selves; this sacrifice of sanity also affords the entity with an infectious affinity to take the life force of others. in contrast, life force affords organic matter to flourish in the multiverse; entities that interface directly with the life force are said to retain a connection to all life & are afforded the power to compel & control any life born of the sea. the only known entity to have directly interfaced with pure life force is the greek deity poseidon.

power struggles between pantheons after the source birthed them all caused untold catastrophe across earth as each laid their claims to the planet. these disasters formed great mountains & perilous valleys, within which concentrated pools began to form where the blood of gods were spilled. as eons passed, undisturbed life force & death force mingled into a physical manifestation best described as an unnatural syrup-like liquid that emits an eerie emerald light despite a lack of bio-luminescence.

to the rest of the world, the earthen hollows that contain the lazarus resin are most commonly referred to as ley lines.

these pits, as they would eventually be coined, remained undiscovered by mortal life until 688 CE when a young healer discovered the first in the arabian peninsula on the search for the cure to an unknown ailment that plagued his patient. in a desperate attempt to save the man as the spirit of ahriman watched nearby, this doctor & his wife placed his patient into the pit. the perfect balance of life & death cleansed his body of the disease; the toll paid in return was the clarity of his mind. maddened by the invasion of the connection to all existing life & the rot of necrosis, he strangled the doctor's wife before the effects had time to wear off.

the doctor razed the city of qaryat al-faw in his grief & set out to discover more about these mysterious pits. well rounded in the mythos of his era, the doctor named this phenomenon a lazarus pit. having witnessed the first man to be resurrected in the likeness of lazarus, the doctor was cautious in his experimentation & it took many years before he began to harness its strength to preserve his youth & that of those who followed him. those who pledged themselves to his cause were blessed by their leader to access the pool in healing major injuries & protect them from the sands of time. first among these were the doctor's parents & the badawī tribesmen whom he had been raised among.

rā's al ghūl, my grandfather, achieved complete control over all discovered lazarus pits in the world; he discovered almost all himself. through these, he maintains near immortality & has returned from death hundreds of times. as of this written account, rā's al ghūl is deceased.

he will return; i will understand who he once was before that day comes.

[madllamamomma]

 The Lullaby (Updated Edition)~ [Muriel x OC short story]

[WARNING: Graphic depictions of blood, death, and dying.]

[This is a short story about my female OC, Rhemi; its mostly about tender moment with her friend Julian total fluff and reveals a little into their past. (2024) So I have revised this story because it now pertains to the current arch in The Visitor~. So.... yeah! Here it is].

The silly doctor and you have had your ups and downs. But despite constantly being annoyed, getting into petty arguments, occasionally throwing an elbow or semi-sharp objects at him, you considered Julian Devorak to be a very good friend. He always seemed to walk the line of an annoying brother you never had, nor asked for. Yet, you cherished that in a way. It was a very quirky relationship, but if it ever came down to a serious situation, you knew that Ilyan had your back.

Just before opening his small clinic down the street from the shop, Nadia had sent him a few trunks filled with a few items from his cell in the dungeon. Back when he worked in the palace for a cure, he had collected many things, and abandoned a lot of them after the ritual with the Arcana. But nonetheless, Nadia had found old notes, textbooks, letters, things like that and they no longer had a home in the belly of the castle. She kept wanting him to come and pick up his things, but he always had an excuse, until one day she brought it all to him. Now he was forced to go through it all. Admittedly it's a dull and cumbersome task, but it has to be done one day. A few months after he opened his clinic, he still had things to shift through, and today was a particularly slow day, so he decided to go through the last trunk. Strangely he noticed an old tattered letter that was still sealed with a stamp. The wax was rather pretty, never seen such a mixture of colors before, but for some odd reason it wasn’t addressed to anyone. It did however seem to be housing something inside of the envelope, it seemed to be metallic and had a bit of weight to it. Intrigued, he sits at his desk and decides to open it carefully. Something then spills out despite his care, hitting the desk with a soft CLANK. Two sheets of paper with shakily handwriting encased a small silver locket connected with a long chain. Faintly the locket even sounded as if it was ticking. The closer he looked at it, the locket was beginning to look rather familiar, so much that it actually made him feel a sense of unease without an owner. Gathering his courage, he finally reaches for the necklace….

Muriel came to the shop to meet you for lunch like he did every other day. Julian usually does the same for Asra, and he’s usually very punctual, however today he strangely wasn’t. As the magician starts to get a bit worried, you feel it too. Something is wrong. With a quick look at the clock still ticking by, Asra stands to his feet and decides to go to the clinic and check on him. You suddenly have a pit in your stomach, and feel like you need to tag along. Even Muriel surprisingly didn’t object at all, Julian may not be his favorite person in the world, but he did care about him in his own way. 

Once at the clinic, the vibe was like hitting a brick wall, it was cold and harsh. Asra walks in first and just sees Julian sitting at his desk. The poor man just stared at the necklace on the desk, expressionless, his skin pale as if he saw a ghost. He looked like he’d been there frozen for hours. Asra cautiously walks toward him, calls his name out repeatedly, yet he wouldn’t speak a word to him. He didn’t even seem like he could hear him calling. Now terrified, he runs his hand through Ilyan’s red hair, he suddenly jumps, inhaling, finally realizing that his partner was even there. “A-Asra….” He gasps.

The magician pushes his hair out of the Doctor’s face, “What are you doing, Ilya? Why are you staring at some—” His attention suddenly goes to the necklace on the desk, and he starts to turn white as well. “I know that...locket—Where?—H-how? That’s—That’s”

You look up at Muriel, his expression matches yours, you both haven’t the slightest clue of what’s going on. Your brow then narrows. You want to get to the bottom of this. What’s so important about this silly necklace anyway? You stomp over almost wanting to slap some sense into them.

“What is going on here you two?” You start to conjure your magic into your hands. Is there something evil about that necklace? Has it been hexed or something?? Asra takes a step back and refuses to look at you.

“Rh—Rhemi….” Julian hears your voice, he reluctantly stands and slowly turns his face to you. His expression makes you stop dead in your tracks, breaking your heart. He starts to shiver and tears overwhelm his eyes, and whimpers, “It’s my fault...” Asra whips his head towards him, his eyes watery too.

You don’t like how the two are looking at you. It reminds you of the first year you came back to life. Asra would look at you like that. Like he knew something you didn’t. Fear and a bit of anxious anger rises in your stomach as you dart your eyes back between them. “What’s going on?….” Silence. You look at Asra, curling your tight lips into your mouth. “Why...why are you both looking at me like that?” Asra turns his face towards the floor looking like he was trying to search for the words, Julian looks so guilty. You try to search for an answer from Muriel who is still standing behind you. But he just looks as confused as you do, and shakes his head with his brow narrowed as well.

You glance down at the silver necklace. You want to know what’s going on—Something about this stupid damn piece of jewelry has your friends completely scared speechless. It doesn’t feel like any magic is there….Wait… yes there is. I know that magic. You hastily swipe it off the desk about to inspect it closer. Julian sharply yells, “Don’t!! NO!!” And tries to reach out and stop you… but it’s too late….The world goes black for a moment, then suddenly images appear.

A memory……...

———————————————————————————————————

I didn’t like wearing plague masks. They scare people, and for good reason, you can never see your eyes or any form of expression that people so desperately wanted when close to death. Most of these people were going to die and I didn’t want that to be the last thing they saw before they left this realm. That’s not why I did this. I wanted to help people… I didn’t want to make people afraid of me. That's what Aunt Atheana did. She helped people without any want of praise or recognition or riches, no, she purely just wanted to make the world a better place to live in. “We should always try to leave this world better before we give it back.” She’d say. Attempting to finally walk in her footsteps, after she succumbed to the plague herself and Asra leaving me high and dry, I found myself taking her uniform and essentially taking her place. 

I wasn’t in the best of places mentally to deal with such chaos, yet I stayed. Hoping. Praying. Mostly for a cure, but deep down I wanted to feel something more than this pain and emptiness I had been feeling the two most important people in my life have left me. But admittedly, I was really here because I was lonely and desperate for a purpose. And even though people around me were dropping like flies, I somehow took solace in it. Death. Maybe even before I got sick… I thought I was dying too?... Maybe… I wanted to die…

There was this little boy…. His bed was in the back corner. His mother and father died just a few days ago. Rene… that was his name… It was Rene. Something about him sitting there on that old banged up cot made me feel like I was looking into my own reflection. He was all alone, dying sitting in a dark damp place with no one left to comfort him. Because of his age, the head plague doctor, the one with eerie sickly green skin and sharp teeth, the very one I  despised deeply, wanted the poor thing for an autopsy. They said the boy was a ‘valuable asset’. A valuable asset indeed. He was just a poor little boy, he hadn’t even lived his life yet and this sick fuck wanted nothing more than to tear into him.

Julian, I mean Doctor Devorak, (that's what I was supposed to call him during working hours anyways), he always got onto me when I got too close to the patients. I especially liked to hold the children, I could be a very harsh person, but children really brought out the best in me. They made me feel like I could be a better person.

 Julian would say, “..That’s an unnecessary risk you're taking holding them like that.” and get upset at me. Yet, he also never physically stopped me… maybe it’s because I think he knew deep down why I would do it. I think if he could, he’d do the same. Most of the patients go off to the Lazaret after a while, all piled on boats to the small island towards the large ashy smoke stack. But when little Rene’s family had left, and he had to stay behind, he had no idea why. He just wanted to hold his mother’s hand, just so he could say goodbye, yet they took them away regardless.

...He told me he wanted to be an inventor when he grew up….

The frail thing was in the end stages for the Red Plague: His eyes were blood red, skin with a sickly yellow hue under his caramel skin, blood vessels breaking all around his mouth and hands, his poor face even was sunken in and showed the skeleton underneath. That day, he was laying down on the cot in a tight fetal position, clutching something close to his chest. Once he noticed me, he reached out for me, too weak to sit himself up. “M-Miss Rhemi?” He had such manners. I did not like being called a little ‘Miss’. Reminded me of those bad days, but when Rene called me that, it was an exception. No one else was capable of making ‘Miss Rhemi’ sound so sweet..

“Hello Rene.” I said as I sat down next to him, taking off my bird-like mask so he wasn’t so scared.

“I’m cold Miss Rhemi…” He muttered. 

I see his boney face and him breaking so shallowly… He’s not going to be long for this world. Choking down my own fears, I gathered him up in my lap, crawling into the cot and covered the both of us with the little dirty blanket and all. “Is that better?” I said, trying not to let him hear the shaking in my voice. He loosens his grip on a tattered stuffed teddy bear with a ribbon around its neck and a button missing for an eye.

He clutched his little weak fingers onto my clothes a little more. God… He was so fragile, so skinny, so weak. “Miss Rhemi… can you sing to me? Momma… she used to sing me a song before I would fall asleep.” 

I paused for a moment knowing what was going to happen when he'd fall asleep. “Well… umm..” I started clearing the lump in my throat. “...It’s been so long….. I don’t really know any—” It then dawns on me… Mummy…. Mother’s song…..

I try to remember the words for a moment as I cradle and rock him a bit. A short exhausted chuckle comes from my lungs. “I don’t know if I remember all the words…. I’m also not the best singer.”

Rene buried his boney temple into my chest a little more, seeking motherly comfort. “That’s ok. Momma wasn’t good either...” he suddenly curls himself in a little ball coughing up some blood on his arm, he doesn't even flinch at the sight of it. He’s only eight years old, and he is braver than most adults, he doesn’t look afraid, just tired. I think I was more afraid than he was… He sniffles a bit then continues, ”..But….I still miss her. I miss her voice. Do you miss your mother, Miss Rhemi?”

A hard twisting in my chest swims in my lower intestine with that question. “I do, but she’d sing this song all the time when I was your age. She said one day, she’d become a bird, so she can keep watch over me. So… her song still comforts me.”

“A bird?”

I nod slowly.

He ponders about it a little. “I’d like that. I won’t mind becoming a robin.”

My stomach hurts even more when he utters that. “....I like robins. They’re pretty.”

“Ms. Rhemi, could you sing that to me?” He whispers, becoming a bit heavier in my arms. 

I rub his head, gently pushing his hair back, it's so thin some of it even falls out but I try to ignore it. “Alright then…..” Clearing my throat a little, I try to remember the song, but as it starts, it just flows from my lips, I don’t missing a single word:

Ahh oooooooo. Lu lu lu lu.

Hush now, Close your eyes.

Sleep is already coming. 

Let your dreams take you miles.

Rest your head to my humming.

Dream of all the beautiful things,

And forget all today’s shortcomings. 

Ahhh ooooooooo. Lu lu lu lu. 

Hush now, rest your head.

The waves, they’re churning.

Do you hear as they crash? 

Forget what you’re yearning

Get some rest, stop your thoughts.

You are young and still learning. 

Ahhhh oooooooooooo. Ah-Lu Lu lu lu.”

Rene chuckles through his nose weakly and faintly. “You lied, Miss Rhemi….You have a pretty … v-...voice….” I hum the tune quietly for a moment getting ready to sing the last part.

Rene’s grip suddenly loosens, a strangely deep exhale espaces from his lungs, as if they were completely deflating followed by silence. My blood runs cold as I freeze, realizing that his body is completely limp in my arms. My heart sinks as I check for his pulse… Praying he just fell asleep. He can’t leave me either… not just yet–please don’t leave me too– 

Holding his thin wrist I try desperately to search for a sign of life. But eventually I realize that it's no use… He’s…. He’s gone… My breath shutters a bit as I click open the locket to see the watch inside. My hands are shaking so hard, it’s almost impossible to see. Time of death: Wednesday, 2:41 pm… The tears won’t stop pouring out of me. The goddamn green vulture of a doctor will be here soon once he gets word he passed, and then–Then he’ll take him away. He’s body isn’t even fucking cold yet. I… I don’t want them to take him… Not yet…. just… not yet… I just don’t want to be alone. 

I swallow the large lump in my throat and continue the last part of the song.

“ Hush now, go to sleep.

Enjoy the night, and what it brings. 

If I’m not here, in the morning. 

Don’t fear, I'll have grown wings.

I’ll take off to the sky, remember,

Listen to the bird as it sings. 

It’s me, I’m still here. Always stop,

And listen to the bird as it sings.

Ahh oooooooooo. Lu lu lu lu.”

I see a pair of long legs making their way towards me, and in the corner of my eye I see Julian slowly approach me. I can't see his expression with his mask on, with his posturing and silence, the silence is answer enough. Despite him, I continue to sing to little Rene as tears still fall from my eyes. He isn’t going to take him from me. But surprisingly, he doesn’t dare stop me….. instead, he kindly comforts me by gently placing his hand on my back and starts to slowly and comfortingly lean into me as I give him no resistance, turning into an embrace. Soon I fully sob into his shoulder and under the mask I can hear him cry as well. I always thought I wanted to be a mother… But losing a child that wasn’t even my own… This was just too much.

Inevitably, Rene was carried away with a light shroud over his face and coins placed on his eyes. The two of us just stayed like that for a moment as Julian held me, and I honestly didn’t want him to let me go either. He insisted afterwards that I’d go home early and take the day off tomorrow. He knew I couldn’t bear to watch that monster, Valdemar, as they cut poor little Rene open to inspect his insides.

I noticed a red beetle crawling on my neck later that night once back in the shop–and I quickly flicked it off in disgust to the floor and smashed it with my boot. Unsure what kind it was. I have never seen its species before... and even looking at Athena's old books I couldn’t find it either. 

But as the next day came… I realized I was sick….

But Rene didn't even cough on me... or did he?... Maybe the blood he coughed up accidentally got into my eyes? Or was it the blankets he was wrapped in? The teddy? 

The more I think about it the less I realize it even mattered. I’m going to die. And somehow… I'm more shocked to feel that somehow I just feel calm… Instead of being grossly upset, bargaining to save my life like I’m expecting to be…. I don’t think I even mind it. Regret never seems to cross my mind either, Rene would have died alone if I hadn’t been there. And no one that young deserves to die alone like that… Somehow an almost comforted feeling ensnares me after the initial shock. Admittedly, I feel like dying would honestly be easier than living at this point. Strangely, I am not afraid, I don’t like the feeling of easily accepting my inevitable death, but maybe little Rene has given me courage. That or I just lost the will to survive. 

As I glance out the window I see a nest of robins on a nearby tree chirping for their mother to feed them and I strangely smile with a single tear dripping down my face. 

Rene, maybe I will join you once I’m gone too… Then you can sing me your song.

—————————————————————————————

You stagger backwards, shuddering a little as you drop the necklace to the ground. Your hand braces against your chest hurting all of a sudden. That magic I felt...It was mine…

All the emotions of the past just flooded in like a dam had just broken. But your mind and body can’t keep up with all this, now you just feel numb, unable to process things currently. You feel a little faint. 

Muriel’s arms catch you as you nearly trip backwards. Wrapping his arms around you, shocked, “What happened?” He turns you around, and wipes tears from your eyes. You start a bit, not noticing them. He glances back at Julian and Asra, lost for an answer. 

Julian drops to the floor to your feet, he’s completely overcome with grief. He rips off his eyepatch, revealing his sick eye and his hands hold the top of his head. His whole body is shaking, sobbing. “Oh, god— Rhemi—My friend...My sweet friend…I’m… I’m so sorry.” Asra rushes to his side, his hands on his back, trying to comfort him. 

Julian… he saw that memory too. He didn’t remember that you worked together either. Muriel mentioned that you were trying to help find a cure before you died. But you didn’t connect the fact that Julian was too at that time.

“Julian—“ You mutter.

“I—I knew you— back then…” He chokes on his tears as he speaks.

“Ilya!—“ You gently remove yourself from Muriel’s hold and kneel down to grab Julian’s shoulders, bringing his face off of the floor.

Tears are just streaming down, it breaks your heart, you’ve never seen him like this before. “I… I should have stopped you…I-I got so busy with everything else, I...I didn’t even notice that you’d—”

You grab his face and mutter. “—You were trying to find a cure.”

Muriel looks over to the desk and carefully grabs the tattered letter. He gasps once he sees the words, “Rhemi…. This… this letter… It’s your handwriting.” Silence chokes the room. You can’t even hear anyone breathing.

“I— I know, Muriel…” you say without looking back at him.

“Why… Why is this… your handwriting?” You can hear the paper crumple in Muriel’s hands, his voice sounds desperate for an answer.

You turn your head half way slowly, still holding up Julian. “It was my will….”

His face scrunches, “Your...will??...” he gazes at the letters, a somber look washes over his face as he realizes. “... Your will…”

“It was down there… this entire time… All these years. I had no idea— I never—I never even opened it!!” Julian's shoulder quivers as he continues to cry. “If only I'd gotten the cure quicker!” He slaps his fist into the hard coble stone floor, shaking his head.

“Julian. Stop. That wasn’t your fault.” He grabs your forearm, sniffling.

“I don’t deserve to be your friend, Rhemi…I...I killed you—“

“—No! You didn’t. The plague did.” Tears start to fall from your eyes and lift Julian’s chin up with your fingers so your eyes meet. “ ...I… held that child. Me. I made that choice. I knew what the risks were.”

Muriel's voice shakes a little, “W—why?...Why do you have it, Ilya?”

Julian shakes his head and hangs it down. “She worked for me...”

Muriel is just still, too still as he stares at the letters in his hand. Asra’s has about a thousand different emotions currently.

“You died because….I wasn’t good enough, Rhemi…I was such a failure—” You wrap your arms around his neck, he hiccups and suddenly stops his ranting, but continues to shake violently.

“—I’m here now.” Muriel comes to Julian's and your side and drops to his knees. Asra wraps one of his arms around Julian’s chest, hugging him tightly, his cheek resting on his shoulder. “None of that even matters anymore!...I’m here today because of Asra, because of Nadia, because of Muriel….Because of you, Ilya.”

Slowly Muriel places his large hand on top of his opposite shoulder, and firmly squeezes it. Julian turns his eyes towards him. “She’s—she’s right….” He swallows hard, water in his eyes. “....We all did things we wished we could take back. But we can’t…”

“...I left Rhemi during the plague in the first place.” Asra mutters, muffled by Julian’s shirt. “Ilya, dear. I understand how you feel… But please… it’s true… we all made choices. Made mistakes. But you were not the one to blame. No one really is. Don’t do this to yourself.” 

Muriel rests his head on yours. “...I came back because of what you all did…I’m here on this earth. On the floor. Hugging all of you.” You hold Julian even tighter. “...You saved me in the end, Julian.” The doctor slowly wraps his arms around your shoulders, accepting the embrace.

You sit there for a long while until he is able to collect himself, once all of you get yourselves off of the floor. Asra chokes down the tears as he reads the pages out loud. The first page is particularly hard for him. He had to pause sometimes to collect himself:

~~~~~

First page: 

 The last will and testament of Rhemi Niamh.

To all whom it may concern:

Except for the silver locket enclosed I,magician Rhemi Niamh, of sound mind, hereby relinquish all my earthly possessions to fellow Magician and friend Asra Alnazar, including the shop and all its contents. 

He’s the only family I have left. 

Asra,

I’m sorry. I was so angry when you left, the only thing I regret is how we ended things, I never would have said those things if I had known it was to be our final farewell on this plane of existence. You're my best friend Asra, and I love you.

I hope you can forgive me. 

 —Rhemi Niamh

Next page:

Dear Doctor Julian Devorak,

Ilya, I’m so sorry I had to burden you with this task, but I honestly don’t have anyone else in this city. I know we were mostly just colleagues, I made it abundantly clear that we were nothing but that despite your attempts to be my friend. For that I am sorry. I didn’t let you know me, not the real me anyways. I've had a bad habit of that since I was a girl. As I write this letter contemplating my death, I hope you know that I cherished the company, the laughs, your kindness, and knowledge you shared with me down in the dungeons these last few months. You were always very caring towards me, even when I was difficult or stubborn, or just downright terrible. You never ceased trying to be my friend and I thank you for that. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you these things in person.

...I think we are all a little lonely these days, especially you Julian. Which leads me to the next part…

Please give this will to a magician named Asra Alnazar, he has whitish hair and a purple snake as a familiar. He may come back to shop anyday and I don’t want the deed getting lost. 

You should get to know him too, somehow I have a strange feeling you’d both hit it off well. By the way, he’s single, or last I’ve known at least. He’s rather a beautiful creature, honestly. I at least know your type, right Doc? If I was looking at you right now I’d be giving you a wink. With all teasing aside….

I wanted to give this locket. Thank you for taking me in as a student and an assistant to the victims of the plague. I know I wasn’t a replacement to my Aunt Athena, but I only hope by my passing, that you will soon find a cure. Please end this suffering. Maybe even find that sister of yours that you've been searching for. It reminds me of a better revision of someone in my life.

Mother told me on her deathbed that she’d come back as a bird so she kept watch over me from above. Sometimes I think I hear her voice when I hear a songbird sing. I never really understood before. But as I told little Rene, I realized how wonderfully comforting it was. I hope he becomes a little robin, maybe then he'll be full of luck and never want for anything. Robin’s songs are beautiful, don’t you think?

I don’t know what kind of bird I’ll become, but I hope you stop and listen to their songs everyday. Who knows, maybe I’ll sing to you sometime.

With all the love in my heart,

–Rhemi Niamh

—————————

Asra breathes deeply as he wipes his tears. Muriel is holding your hand so tightly, this is all so much to process.

You finally straighten and open your hand and Asra gives the letter to you. “What are we going to do with this?” He asks.

Looking between the three of them and you take a deep breath. Conjuring up a bit of magic in both hands, you blow on the pages and they burst into flames, letting the burning papers drop to the cobble floor.

Asra, Julian, and Muriel all jump, their faces all have the same question. Why?

“Wel…” You smile feeling a bit relieved. “We don’t need it anymore, do we?”

Muriel quickly wipes his nose with the back of his hand and smiles back. “No. You don’t.”

Asra suddenly embraces you from behind. “Thank you, Rhemi.” You lean your face into his arm.

Julian picks up the necklace, stroking the locket’s metalwork with his thumb. All the magic that was once there has all but dissipated. With his outstretched arm he hands the pendant to you. But you shake your head, closing his fist around it and pushing it back to him. “I gave it to you, Julian. I want you to have it…” He looks to you with such an amalgamation of emotions. “... Look, I may get irritated at you… A lot... But you’re still my friend. I never told you that back then and I was wrong to never say it to your face. The old me gave it to you for a reason. So for her sake, please keep it.” 

A deeply touched smile graces his lips and he drapes it over his neck. “I’ll wear it proudly, Rhemi.” He says as you wrap your arms around his waist. Asra comes over and pats you gently on the top of the head with the other arm around Julain’s shoulder. 

Finally letting go of him to let Asra take over a long hug, you stand back and Muriel reaches and grabs your wrist. Willingly you go into his arms, feeling somehow lighter than before. Then it dawns on you as you suddenly let out a giggle.“Sooooooo, Is no one going to say it?”

The three of them just look at you blankly, have no idea what you're talking about. You glance between them all seeing if one of them would even remotely guess. But, nothing. You sigh hard gesturing towards Asra and Julian, “I’ve been trying to get these two together for years apparently!” Both pairs of their eyes flutter in disbelief.  

Muriel huffs grumpily, then just gives in and laughs through his nose, shaking his head slowly at you with a grin and he holds you tighter in his chest. Julian and Asra finally allow themselves to laugh a little holding each other’s hands tightly. Had to lighten the mood somehow, right?

“I guess I’ve always been a hopeless romantic.”

✨The end...... ?....~

The next day as all the outgoing mail was being given to the messenger, Julian hands them everything that was enclosed on his desk rather sloppily, gives them a few coins before shutting the door locking it. Not really knowing what he had handed them, he shrugs too tired to care and heads back to his quarters where a certain lazy white haired magician was keeping his bed warm. He was half asleep when the messenger knocked at the door, and the doctor wanting nothing else but to go back to bed for once. He feel like he could sleep all day today, somehow feeling the most relieved in ages.

Annoyed, the messenger sorts through the scattered bundle of letters, some not even addressed to anyone and had to be returned, until they notice one rather tattered and crumpled letter with a pretty wax seal. It looked like it had a faint shimmer like magic and it was addressed to someone with an overly long fancy well-to-do name and it was to be sent to a foreign kingdom called 'Charlés', which was all the way across the Salty Sea. "Psssh! I ain't taking that..." They grumble as they place the letter into their satchel. "... Hmmm. I'll hand it off to a trading boat heading that way I guess... It'll get there... eventually."

Thanks for reading my hot garbage~