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#killer and healer prompt
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My brain is jumping ahead to how I’m going to write the reunion scene between Jiang Yuelou and Chen Yuzhi in ep. 35 and I’m just over here like WE HAVEN’T EVEN FINISHED WRITING EP. 20, WHY THE FUCK WE SKIPPING AHEAD FOR?! WE AIN’T THERE YET, SLOW YA ROLL!
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throneofsapphics · 6 months
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RowAelin in falling in love with the palace healer? 👀 they are trained killers but god they can’t get enough of her? Sometimes even they will make sure that in the next sparing sesh that one or both of them gets hurt so they have an excuse to see her 👀👀👀👀 or even that at one point Aelin sees her helping somone else and gets jealous and straight up looks Rowan in the eye while she stabs herself and he’s like AH while running her to the healer while she smiles HEHEHEHHEH
any reason
Rowaelin x f!Reader 
Summary: Aelin will find any reason to visit the palace healer. 
Warnings: self-inflicted injuries, blood, not proofread as usual
A/N: I love this, Aelin is SO chaotic, it’s just a lil drabble based on part of the prompt! maybe i’ll write a longer version later, thank you for the request!
Aelin had a wicked look on her face as she raised her knife, flipping it in her palm. 
“Aelin,” Rowan groaned. “Please don’t Fireheart.” 
She shrugged, stabbing the tip of the knife into her forearm - in a completely non-lethal place, but deep enough it would require healing. 
“For fucks sake,” he cursed under his breath as she wiped the blood off on her pants, heading directly for the healers quarters. One specific healer - that she knew was on duty. Then again, they both always knew when she was working. Aelin had even stolen a copy of the healer’s schedules. 
He grumbled under his breath but followed after her. He wouldn’t turn down a perfectly good chance to see y/n. 
-
“You’re ridiculous.” Y/n groaned as Aelin walked in with a grin on her face, holding her arm out. She sent the Queen a small smile. 
“Careful how you speak of your Queen,” Aelin teased. 
“Apologies, your Majesty.” She dropped into an exaggerated curtesy. “I swear, I think you do this on purpose sometimes.” She huffed, but gathered the necessary supplies. First, she carefully washed the wound - ignoring Aelin’s winces, before throwing a particularly strong cleansing tonic over it, and finally using her magic to heal the small but deep cut. She could’ve sworn Aelin let out a moan, and she ducked her head to hide the blush forming on her cheeks. 
“How did you get that?” She asked, finally lifting her head to look at her. She spotted Rowan in the corner, leaning back against the doorway. Of course, she wouldn’t complain about seeing them - but sometimes she wondered why they didn’t just heal themselves or each other. 
Aelin flicked her eyes towards Rowan, who pinned her with an exasperated look. Maybe it was self-inflicted. 
“A secret,” she gave a small smile and y/n didn’t question any further. 
“You’re all set,” she told her after examining the space one last time. No scar, either. 
“I could kiss you.” Aelin hummed, and y/n shot an alarmed glance to Rowan, who only raised one brow, as if to say I don’t care. She swallowed and ignored it. The queen ran her hand down her forearm, squeezing her hand. “Thank you,” her mouth curved up at one side and y/n got the opinion Aelin knows exactly what her words and touch do to her. “See you next time,” she said cheerily, rising and leaving the room. Rowan gave her a polite nod, and followed her from the room.
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A Brilliant Color From A Voiceless Völundr
[Jack The Ripper x Nezuko!reader] [platonic]
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Warnings: violence, hurt/comfort, ooc, spoilers for season 2
Special thanks to @onecantsimply​ and @nyxthehunterxdblog​ for providing feedback/edits to make this best possible fic it can be. 
The battle was over.  Another victory for humanity, and another god swallowed by their opponent’s malice. 
But was the outcome worth it all in the end? 
Jack the Ripper would remain despised as a psychotic serial killer who sent Heracles’ soul to Niflhel. A sentiment that both human and godly spectators shared when they slandered him in the arena, screaming to give their beloved hero back to them. When one rock bludgeoned Jack across the temple, more of them followed in a steady shower. The crimson vortex of the audience’s emotions only grew stronger, much bigger, when he bowed to them with a wide grin stretched across his bloodied mouth. 
Just when a rotten tomato then hurled towards him, a clawed hand caught it in midair. He blinked in surprise, seeing a young lady standing near him protectively and growling through her bamboo muzzle, [Hair Color] locks and [Favorite Color] kimono covered with just as much sweat and blood as him. 
[First Name]. His Völundr. 
Although he had been informed by Brunhilde that his partner for the fight against Heracles was to be a young lady by the name of Hlokk, certain…circumstances had happened. In short, the aforementioned Valkyrie refused to bond with him because of his reputation even when the existence - or annihilation - of humans was at stake in this Ragnarok. Although Brunhilde struggled with this sticky situation at the last minute when her younger sisters also refused under the same excuse, she found a willing volunteer in [First Name]. Thurd tried to argue with Brunhilde, protesting that their sibling’s mental state was still delicate, yet the latter refused to compromise further. 
She knew [First Name] was much stronger than the other Valkyries gave her credit for. Brunhilde could never forgive the gods for the unspeakable crime they had committed against [First Name]….but if that malice can be harnessed as a weapon, then so be it. The healer who had overlooked her sister’s mental conditioning assured her that the hypnosis was perfected. 
Her enemies were the gods who acted high and mighty. [First Name] would protect the humans as if they were her family. But if a human acted maliciously against her, cripple but do not kill them. 
Dropping the fruit, [First Name] swiveled around and stood in front of Jack, her small back facing him. Before he had a chance to speak to her, she leaned down and hooked his legs around her middle, keeping a steady grip as she stood up at her full height, dashing towards the arena’s exit, carrying him as if he were a small child and not a gentleman with his arms around her shoulders just so he wouldn’t fall backwards. Jack felt a small twinge of embarrassment at their current situation…though how could he have the heart to tell [First Name] otherwise when she was so earnest in doing this?
“Much obliged for your assistance, young lady.” 
[First Name] did not say anything and just kept running down the marbled corridor towards the medical wing. If it weren’t for the slight squeeze of his legs, Jack would have thought that she was ignoring him. 
“I am aware that you cannot speak, given your current…situation, though would you allow me to express my gratitude?” Another squeeze prompted Jack to continue. “Thank you. Firstly, I did not expect such…support from you in the fight, young lady.  ‘Tis one thing to allow me to change anything into a weapon against the gods, but to also harness the power of fire with my piano wire and knives as a conduit? Quite brilliant against a god of immeasurable strength.” Jack frowned. “Yet with this victory…I’ll never see that color of his ever again, will I? It’s funny, really. I reveled in seeing that beautiful color when life was being drained from the people I’ve killed, yet now…all I feel is remorse for extinguishing that light from Heracles. Fate is a funny thing, isn’t it?”
Silence fell between the human and his Völundr for the rest of the way to the medical bay. Nurses were already standing by the double doors, prepped to heal humanity’s representative immediately. When [First Name] lowered him to the ground, he almost expected her to leave and go about her business. But just when he followed the medical personnel inside, the Valkyrie stood in front of him. 
Standing on her tiptoes, [First Name] carefully pulled Jack down to her height before her clawed hands stretched forward to cup his face. She stared at him long and hard, [Eye Color] orbs reflecting neither malice, exhaustion, or grief. Instead, they shined with pride and concern as her fingers gently caressed the bloodied, bruised skin. 
Like a loving parent would act towards their child. 
Although her actions made him speechless, it shocked Jack even more to see the bright and warm yellow light circulating around [First Name]’s body. The very same color Heracles possessed right up to his untimely demise by Dear God. How was this even possible?
“You -”
“There you are!” A voice boomed before [First Name] was suddenly lifted up in the air by two large hands coiled around her waist. The culprit was an enormous green-eyed woman with reddish-orange hair pulled back in a braid and fitted crimson armor. Although his Völundr wiggled around her grasp she did not try to harm the stranger. Instead, she appeared…annoyed? 
Jack blinked, seeing a pair of pristine wings jutting out from the woman’s back. Ah, she must be one of the Valkyries. What was her name again? Hrist? No, that was the samurai’s Völundr. Then who…
“Lady Thrud!” A nurse squeaked. 
The Valkyrie hummed in acknowledgement before she turned her attention to [First Name], a frown stretched across her face. 
“You were fearless in the match, my dear sister. I am proud of you.  But there is a difference between being brave and needlessly reckless!”  A whine emitted from [First Name]’s muzzle as she began to wiggle again in Thrud’s grasp, only to have the older woman tighten her grip ever so slightly on the Ripper’s Völundr. “Don’t you dare say that you are fine! I was in the arena when you were carrying him out, and I know your side is still bleeding! We might be able to heal ourselves, sister, but we are not invincible. Which is why you are coming with me to for a medical checkup, now.” 
[First Name] mewled pitifully in response, stubbornly trying to pry herself free until a pained groan spewed from her muzzle. Thrud looked down and huffed. “See? This is what happens when you do not listen to your elders.” 
Jack could only watch in slight amusement and worry as the Valkyries bickered for a bit longer till [First Name] finally agreed to be taken away to a separate section in the human’s area to be healed. It was obvious that she wanted to stay with him. Although he was touched with her concern, he wanted his Völundr to get some proper rest. She needed to, should they ever be summoned again to fight for humanity’s sake. 
As Thrud walked away from the medical wing with [First Name] in her arms, she peeked over the giantess’ shoulder and waved at him enthusiastically, her voice muffled by the muzzle before she winced, earning another scolding from Thrud.
Jack chuckled and waved back, watching the two figures grow smaller as they traveled further down the corridor before he walked inside the hospital wing. Who would have thought that a black-hearted monster like him would kill a god, and yet be saved by the loving touch of a voiceless Valkyrie? He certainly did not deserve it. Perhaps…this is the ultimate punishment bestowed upon him by God.
Bonus Content:
Once he was healed, Jack took it upon himself to bake a homemade apple pie to share with [First Name]. It took him plus Hrist and Kojiro to persuade the terrified Valkyrie that it was not Brunhilde’s specially made pies. 
[First Name] was allowed to eat and drink without her muzzle so long as she was not within the vicinity of the gods or else she would (possibly) go berserk upon seeing them. 
taglist:
@recreationalfanfics
@nyxthehunterxdblog
@onecantsimply
@rukia-writes
@radioactivesweet
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keleravna · 8 months
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@tes-summer-fest day 6: blood
i was too busy to participate this year so this is the only prompt i managed to complete !!
i had lots of fun drawing this in fucking microsoft powerpoint so i hope yall like it <3
behold! the killer, the healer and the necromancer
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crisiscutie · 11 months
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Can you please do a yandere sephiroth X willing reader basically the reader doesn't mind sephiroth being a yandere for them
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I've wrestled with this prompt for some time now, but I think I finally got it. This will center on Dissidia Sephiroth! I combined elements of his 012, NT and Opera Omnia incarnations into one. Featuring the killer clown prince king, Kefka.
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At first, you were just a useful tool for him. You, like Cloud and others from these strange worlds.
He was forced to work with you to achieve his goals, which was no problem for him. Achieving what mattered the most overrode his general misanthropy. He will become a god, but first, he must regain his memories.
You didn't mind Sephiroth much yourself. Like him, you had an important goal. A selfish one also like him, but not at the expense of others (or so you think).
You held no ill will towards anyone but it wasn't like you had any special feelings for everyone else as well.
You became a person of interest in Sephiroth's conquest of absolute power because of your abilities and your unique presence within this universe.
You were just a healer plucked from your journey with your friends to fight against the oppressive, alien masquerade that took over your grand, technologically advanced city. i think i may've accidentally leaked the setting of FF17, please dont sue me SE.
You also had the rare ability to reawaken and summon divine beasts that would threaten the power of The Masquerade. Maybe that's why they had you whisked away from the world. Because you were their biggest threat.
You wanted get back to your world. To help your friends. And to get revenge on The Masquerade.
Sephiroth's persuasive words of offering you assistance in reaching your goal charmed you into helping him.
You two worked together, eventually forming a bond as you completed missions to pursue your objectives. You were with him as he regained his memories, bit by bit.
When you also finally regained your memories like most others, all you wanted to do was get away from this Cosmos vs. Chaos vs Materia vs Spiritus nonsense. None of it mattered to you anymore.
Despite his claims that you meant nothing to him, Sephiroth acted with remarkable politeness and even supportive of you when you two encountered formidable enemies.
Even when enemies directed their attacks your way, Sephiroth will step in, his presence a strong shield of protection as he urged you to not let them get to you.
Because of his composed demeanor, it's easy to forget that Sephiroth shares the same oppressive qualities as the rulers of The Masquerade from your world.
Like them, beyond the composed and polite exteriors, you could sense his calculated and callous nature. Nevertheless, something about him kept you tethered to him.
༻❁༺ From Seduction to Love.
Sephiroth came to enjoy your presence. He'd revel in the power boosts you gave him during battles, sometimes looking at you with a flirty smile and expressing how good you made him feel. He found great amusement in your flushed face afterwards.
You've noticed you're pushing your own mission aside to help him with his, which is exactly what Sephiroth wanted.
After all, the center of everyone else's world will be him, so it's only natural his cute pet will be the same.
He worked hard to charm you, waiting for you to come to him and confess your love.
He kept his strong emotions for you suppressed, referring to you as a cute, useful "pet" instead of what you meant to him on a deeper level.
He didn't want you to go back to your universe. He wanted you to stay at his side, to see him become a god.
He manipulated your memories and purposefully held back information from you, to thwart your aspirations.
He delighted in dangling the fruits of knowledge in front of your eyes, making you want to learn more about the worlds, yourself and him.
You came to realize that Sephiroth seduced you, and it worked. You didn't care about your friends or your world now. They can make do without you.
Sometimes, you could see the twinkle in his eyes as you outperformed in battle. Afterwards, he would approach you, complimenting you.
One time, he reached out, almost going for a... head pat? You will be confused but left with an insatiable curiosity.
But then he will give a light chuckle and pull away, leaving you craving his touch.
He promises if you continued being a good girl for him, he'll do more than give you that...
He didn't mind showing off some affection for you in front of Cloud, Kefka, The Emperor and whoever was around. He wasn't overt about it, but it was clear that you belonged to him.
༻❁༺ An Unusual Situation...
There were a few necessary times you were separated from him, but he always worked hard to reunite with you.
You've come across Kefka during a brief period of separation from Sephiroth. You were looking to add some summons like Shiva and Ifrit to your collection of divine beasts.
You admit this clown is annoying as hell to deal with. There was something within you that found him amusing though as he offered to help you to capture these beasts.
Kefka knew messing with you was playing with fire, but that's what made him excited. What about you that made someone like Sephiroth so captivated, he wondered.
As Kefka previously observed, Sephiroth's emotions seemed to be greatly stirred up by his "pet".
Kefka was being much more obnoxious than normal later on. To the point you attempted to make him leave, but he lingered onwards.
With an evil smirk, he yanked you close to him and forced a strange sort of crown on your head.
Your attempted all your best to resist him but you couldn't. This tight crown on your head suppressed your will.
You feel your conscious and willpower being submerged, as an emotionless, obedient version of yourself takes control.
Kefka smirked as he puts his hand on your shoulder. He had you summon your divine beasts and wreck havoc on your surroundings.
You were nothing more than to be a toy used for his petty amusement, while Kefka waited for his own plans to be unfolded.
You tried to regain control but you couldn't.
It didn't take long for Sephiroth to show up. When he did, he quickly knew something was wrong. His composure was unshakable, but the fury and worry glinting in his eyes was unmistakable.
Your beasts started attacking him and you weren't actively responding to his presence.
You were screaming internally. You never wanted this to happen. You only hope that he will put you down before you caused harm to him.
He moved swiftly, delivering fatal blows to his opponents without flinching, his gaze fixed firmly upon you.
Before your controlled state knew it, Sephiroth knocked your staff out of your hand and grabbed you by your waist, forcefully ripping the slave clown off your head.
It crumbled away as it was thrown to the ground. His warm, gloved hand gently cupped your cheek as he examined your condition, you slowly began to regain consciousness .
He looked up from you to see Kefka laughing like a madman, jesting that it's a good thing that he has another crown, sparkling and ready to be put on his new "pet".
Sephiroth's burning glare bore into him. But before he can take any action, Kefka sadly announced his departure, saying he must attend to his other amusements, leaving you and Sephiroth alone.
You came back to the helm, the emptiness in your eyes now replaced by a spark of life. You felt your vision blurring with tears as you gazed into his intense, slit mako eyes.
You tried to speak, but a soft whimper escapes your lips instead, and Sephiroth quickly shushes you with his finger on your mouth.
You thought he would be mad, but instead, he was serene and only pledged to be with you at all times.
And he promised to turn Kefka into a human kabob when he's he's a god.
Later, you crafted a unique gift for him, a sparkling bead bracelet that perfectly matched the rest of his majestic outfit. Each bead was magically crafted with your devoted love.
He accepted the gift with a sly grin, and his eyes lit up when you put it on him.
He lifted the magic bead bracelet up to the light, the colorful beads sparkled and shone.
He held your cheek, commenting how adorable it was that his pet had made him something.
You nuzzled your cheek against his large, gloved hand, not caring if you were just a pet to him. All you wish for is to keep feeling his love and to see his dreams come true...
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Glad I finally got this out. The darling is from a future FF game if that wasn't clear enough.
(This was an early prototype of the One Winged Masquerade AU, much of this has been retconned in the current AU, see FAQ for more information.)
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creepychan08 · 1 year
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Thranduil x Reader- Period Pains
Prompt: Thranduil comforting you during your time of the month
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You wake up that morning with a massive cramps, sensitive breasts and a slight headache. The ray of sunlight filtering through the curtains and falling on your form normally would have made you smile as you wake up happily but not today. It only serves to make your headache worsen.
You groaned and shifted your body, back facing your husband.
"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" Thranduil's gentle voice greeted you as he plant a soft kiss to your shoulders.
You only grunted in response. Not in the mood to talk with anyone today as the pain in your lower abdomen increased. Its normally not like this. Your time of the month usually just pass by like a breeze, save for a slight cramps. But this month was the worse.
Sensing your discomfort, Thranduil embrace you closer from behind.
"Are you in pain, meleth nin? Is something bothering you?"
His sensitive nose finally picks up on a smell.
Blood.
Immediately, his senses were on alert as he check over your body. He saw the big, red stain of blood on your bottom and his eyes widen in shock.
How did this happen? Did someone harmed you while you were asleep? And you were even sleeping beside him. How could he fail to sense the intruder and protect you?
"Its nothing. Its part of human anatomy of a woman. We bleed like this every month and with it comes the cramps. Although I admit, its the worst today" You patiently explain to him, gritting your teeth when another wave of pain pass through your body.
He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion but decided not to further ask you as he can see you were already in pain. He decided to do research on his own about this topic later after he tends to you.
"I'm sorry you had to go through this, my love" He pressed a kiss on top of your head as he rub his hands up and down comfortingly on your arms.
"Please tell me what can I do to help alleviate your suffering. Anything you want or desire YN."
He paused and continued, "I'll call the healers right now"
"No wait" you grasped his hand tightly. "No need for the complete check up. I just need them to give me pain killers." 
He looked at you seriously, debating his decision as he feels it would be best to have the healers check on you thoroughly but after seeing the determined look in your eyes, he figured you know more on how to deal with your pain.
After the healers came and gave you pain killers, you finally relax as you felt the pain decreasing to a tolerable amount.
Thranduil still hovered around you in concern, constantly asking how you're feeling and you can't help chuckle at his antics.
"Why are you laughing, YN? Do you find it humorous to find me in great worry over your condition?" If you look closely, you can almost see a small pout on his face.
"Oh Thranduil, my love, I do not mean it like that." You cup your hands on both his cheeks as you smile at him in apology.
"I am most flattered and grateful for your concern but I am feeling better now. And I find you fussing over me quite adorable in my eyes"
He blush slightly and hides his face in your neck. You hummed in delight while gently brushing his soft hair. 
'Who would have thought that the stone cold, Elven King would have this side of him' You thought with a smile.
"You don't have to worry a single thing today, YN. Ease your mind. I'll take care of you and make you forget about your monthly misery" 
After a whole day of being pampered more so than your usual days, eating your favorite foods, endless cuddling, massages and a special bath prepared to sooth your body, you can say for the first time that you were already looking forward for your next month's red days.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So I just finished my period and can't help but wish Thranduil to be there and care for me as well lol. Really sucks to be in love with a fictional character.
Anyway, this one is shorter as its just imagine scenarios for when the reader was in her painful time of the month and what I think Thranduil would be like in those case.
That's all! Hope you like it and you can comment what you think about the story so far. Stay safe, guys! :)))
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mischiefmoons · 15 hours
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🐥 drop an ask for a short blurb/headcannon! send me a prompt and i’ll get to work as soon as i can (check requests for guidelines -> will write fluff, smut, angst, crack)
Child of Apollo headcanons? I have a daughter of Apollo Luke Castellan fic I'm working on! By working on I mean have done the characters and that's it
🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥
child of apollo headcannons
i have a soft spot for children of apollo im gonna be real,,, this is gonna be a combination of research & random thoughts—mans usually has a decent amount of kids and a variety of specialities so choose what you like
has perfect pitch, always. think of charlie puth being annoying and naming notes easily, which is the annoying part about it because you’re always right
impeccable ability to play by ear; one listen to any song and you can replicate it perfectly on any instrument or you’ll know all the lyrics
imagine having like a banshee-like scream? or maybe a voice that can break glass
or maybe your singing is persuasive like a siren
the ability to enchant instruments to all start playing, even if you’re by yourself, like a one-person show
awesome healer yes, but i would think you’d be healed by sunlight alone, whether it be skin regrowing or sunlight as a powerup
uses the sun as a lie-detector (i used this in one of my fics for the trouble!verse); sunbeams to confirm whether someone’s lying or not
besides being an awesome marksman, you’re also killer at darts and pool and anything that involves shooting
constellated skin; when the sun shines on you, you look like you’re radiating bursts of light
no sunburns! always sunkissed and smelling like a summer day
body clock wakes you up at the crack of dawn when your dad is starting to spread morning light
internal body temp is always warm; the person you want to snuggle next to when its cold
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Constant Whump - Whump Lists
A sub list of whump lists where characters are constantly targeted, kidnapped, or hurt in general. (Does not include emotional/mental whump) - (Will also include if it becomes constant even after a slower period)
The ask that prompted the creation of this list >>> {link}
DRAMAS
🇰🇷Korea
Duel >> {x}
Just Between Lovers >>> {x}
W: Two Worlds >>> {x}
Memorist >>> {x}
Sweet Home >>> {x}
Two Weeks >>> {x}
Healer >>> {x}
The Uncanny Counter >>> {x}
Lawless Lawyer >>> {x}
Memories of the Alhambra >>> {x}
The Arthdal Chronicles >>> {x}
The K2 >>> {x}
One Ordinary Day >>> {x}
All Of Us Are Dead >>> {x}
Bulgasal: Immortal Souls >>> {x}
Come and Hug Me >>> {x}
Snowdrop >>> {x}
Alice, The Final Weapon >>> {x}
Bad Guys >>> {x}
Big Mouth >>> {x}
Blind >>> {x}
Connect >>> {x}
Revenge of Others >>> {x}
Bloodhounds >>> {x}
A Time Called You >>> {x}
Sweet Home Season 2 >>> {x}
My Demon >>> {x}
🇨🇳China
Reunion: The Sound of The Providence >> {x}
Reunion: Sound of The Providence Season 2 >> {x}
The Untamed >> {x}
The Golden Eyes >>> {x}
Sand Sea >>> {x}
The Blue Whisper >>> {x}
Back From the Brink >>> {x}
🇯🇵Japan
Fuujinshi >>> {x}
The Killer Inside >>> {x}
King’s Game >>> {anime}
Chainsaw Man >>> {anime}
MOVIES
🇰🇷Korea
Project Wolf Hunting >>> {x}
Fabricated City >>> {x}
Shark: The Beginning >>> {x}
🇯🇵Japan
Bleach >>> {x}
🇺🇸USA
Shattered >>> {x}
Jumper >>> {x}
EPISODE HIGHLIGHTS
🇰🇷The Fair >>> {x}
-------------
MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {X}
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howtowhumpyourhiccup · 6 months
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Something So Small
Summary: Written for AI-less Whumptober 2023 Day 9. Set in The Compound AU. Who knew scars so small could carry traumas so big?
Warning: gunshot mention, torture mention, kidnapping mention
Rating: Mature
Characters: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid (mentioned)
Pairing: /
Words: 677
Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon
Prompt: Scar reveal
Whumpee: Hiccup, Toothless, Astrid (mentioned)
Author’s Notes: So happy to be returning to this AU!
@ailesswhumptober
XOXOX
One of the worst parts of recovery is that sometimes the pain just won’t go away. A couple of weeks after his second- or technically his third- amputation, Hiccup lies awake in bed. Jolt’s of pain running up through his nerves. Midnight has long since passed and he won’t be surprised if dawn is just around the corner. The books Fishlegs loaned to him have all been read, he doesn’t feel like playing a game, his sketchbook and art supplies go neglected. So all that remains now is to stare up at the ceiling, waiting for the discomfort to finally pass and for sleep to come.
For once, it’s not either of his legs that bother him, but rather, it’s his hand. His left hand. He lost his index fingers there. It was cut off as a proof of life after he was violently kidnapped and held for ransome. Now its tiny stump shoots tiny jolts of electricity up his wrist into his forearm. It’s not the excruciating kind of pain that he’s used to feeling in his legs, but it’s just painful and annoying enough that it keeps him from his much-needed sleep either way.
He would take his pain killers, they’re on the nightstand, but it’s too early to take them.
Toothless stirs on his stone bed. Rolling onto his side, curled up under the blankets, Hiccup shoots him a glance in the dark.
As if able to sense his plea for someone to end his loneliness, Toothless groggily lifts his head. His eyes, quite adept at the dark, catch Hiccup’s quickly. Groggily, he purrs his way.
“Hey Bud,” he whispers. He doesn’t want to wake their parents up.
With unsteady steps, Toothless comes over to settle on the floor, his big head on his human brother’s torso as he rolls onto his back. Hiccup lifts arms to lay them on top, but gasps when the move sends a jolt up through his left arm. Toothless raises his head, they both watch the limb shake. The sight of his left hand, missing an index finger, is still new to them.
Toothless licks his hand carefully. He already doesn’t need a bandage there anymore. While his leg still has some ways to go still, the stitches on his hand have been removed and it's well on its way of healing. All that remains is for that fine line to scar.
It’s going to be a ridiculously small scar for the amount of trauma that it carries. He practically pleaded with his kidnappers not to take it.
“How’s yours doing?” Hiccup asks his dragon, he wasn’t the only one hurt by the group who took him.
Toothless saw a bunch of miscreants steal his brother away and he tried to stop them. For his efforts, they shot him.
The dragon lifts his head high enough to let Hiccup take a look. Dragons are good healers, but even so, it’s always a relief to find that his gunshot wound is already scarring.
He finds it; a blemish on his otherwise perfectly smooth underjaw. It’s round, not that big, and yet it had threatened his life at one point. Once again, a scar so small for a deal so big.
“Does it still hurt?” He asks. And while Toothless purrs, he’s not sure if it means he’s not in any pain anymore. He could be lying.
Toothless replaces his head on his torso and Hiccup his hands on top. One of the brothers closes his eyes, still sleepy enough to doze back off.
Hiccup doesn’t know how he feels about any of this. Would he have felt better if their scars were bigger? Big enough to match what he… they feel within? Astrid doesn’t even have any scars to speak of, though she will never forget taking her eyes off him for a moment only to lose him. And it led to him losing his other leg and a finger.
He doesn’t know, but it certainly doesn’t feel as validating when their scars are as small as they are.
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officialleehadan · 8 months
Text
Too Far
Hello darlings! Today's story was brought to you by L! Darling, thank you so much for all your support! It means the world to me!
TW: This one... got pretty dark. So there's that.
Prompt: A villain pushes a hero too far.
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“Please. Please let me heal him. He’s down. You won,” Feverfew begged on his knees as he tried desperately to heal up the gushing wound under his hands. He was one of the better Powered healers around, could even heal damaged cells and some illnesses, but without time to concentrate, the villain under his hands was going to die. Feverfew didn’t care that Pyroclast was a villain. Barely even knew the man in fact, but he wouldn’t let a single person die if he could prevent it. “You can drag him to wherever you want after, just let me- let me close this up.”
Too-strong hands grabbed him and pulled him away and he yelled, a bad fighter on a good day, but willing to fight anyway. “No! He’s a villain! He’s on your side!”
“He is no friend of mine. Who do you think did this to him?” Hammerblight asked in his ear as Feverfew struggled helplessly to get back to Pyroclast. Hammerblight wasn’t like Pyroclast. Pyroclast avoided civilians, but Hammerblight, he liked to watch people suffer. “How long do you think he has, little healer? What will you do to save him?”
“Anything, please!”
“Would you leave the heroes?”
“Let me go!”
“You think you can fight me?”
“He’s dying!”
“That isn’t what I asked, Healer.”
Feverfew didn’t stand a chance against Hammerblight. The villain was one of the heaviest of heavy hitters on the villain side, and had killed a dozen heroes, all more powerful than Feverfew. Now Feverfew knew that the disappearances on the villain side had probably been his doing too. A serial killer among the villains. It was the worst nightmare of the support teams like him.
“He has less than a minute. Please,” he sobbed and struggled uselessly. He wasn’t a combat Power. He couldn’t fight. He was useless. “Please. I’ll- I’ll join you. Just let me save his life. Please!”
“Tempting,” Hammerblight mused. “A healer at my beck and call. I don’t like healing the long way, but all of you little fix-it types are with the heroes. Might be nice to have one to help out here and there.”
“Let me go, and I’ll do it! I’ll swear to you! Just let me heal him!”
Feverfew staggered when Hammerblight suddenly let him go, and he ran for Pyroclast, clumsy with haste, and his Power already brimming on his hands. He was just barely fast enough to close up the bloody spray that colored the ground bright red. He poured every ounce of his Power into closing the deep wound that pierced Pyroclast almost all the way thorough. A half-inch over and it would have been a nearly-instant death, but it would only take a few moments more if Feverfew wasn’t fast.
“Come on,” he whispered as he worked frantically. “You never give up. I hear from all the heroes how you’re the one who gets back on his feet no matter what. Don’t give up now.”
The glint of a knife made Feverfew flinch, but he didn’t stop working as the blade trailed over his throat teasingly. Hammerblight laughed behind him. He liked knives, even though he was a Strength factor with the ability to deliver crushing blows to his enemies. Feverfew had healed his work more than once.
“What would you do,” Hammerblight whispered in his ear eve as Feverfew painstakingly coaxed Pyroclast’s heart back together. “If I were to put my knife into his heart right between your fingers? If I killed him just as you got him whole again?”
“I don’t know,” Feverfew gasped. The distraction nearly cost Pyroclast as Feverfew’s attention slipped, but he pulled himself back to his task with the mastery every doctor learned early. “Please, just let me heal him. You won. You beat him. What more do you want?”
“I can’t just like to watch him bleed out? You don’t have any imagination, do you? Pain is funny. Haven’t you ever had the urge to make them hurt, just a little more, while they’re under your hands?”
With the worst of the damage healed, Feverfew was able to turn his attention to the lesser damage. The ragged edges where the blood vessels were cut through. Pyroclast would still bleed to death if they weren’t healed, but it would be slower. Not much, but slower.
“Everyone has intrusive thoughts. Mine don’t control me,” Feverfew snapped to Hammerblight, but spared a quick smile for Pyroclast, whose eyes were open, just a little. “Hey, there you are. Hang on, okay? Don’t try to sit up yet.”
“No, don’t try to sit up,” Hammerblight said gleefully and leaned over Pyroclast, who tried, and failed, to twist away from the knife Hammerblight still held. “Don’t disturb the little healer, now. Don’t try to get away, or you’ll make me hurt you again.”
“It’s okay,” Feverfew tried to reassure Pyroclast desperately. He could feel Hammerblight’s breath on the back of his neck. The promise of a slow, painful death, or worse if he really did take Feverfew as a fair trade to let Pyroclast live. “I’ll get you whole. You know me, right?”
“Yeah,” Pyroclast whispered and closed his fingers around Feverfew’s wrist lightly. “Get out of here. Run. ‘M not worth it.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Feverfew told him as the blood finally stopped coming up between his fingers. “It- it doesn’t matter now anyway. Hold still, I need to do your lungs.”
“I don’t think so.”
Feverfew yelled when Hammerblight dragged him back again, this time with a crushing grip on his arm. Feverfew ignored the pain in favor of a desperate flare of his Power, directly into Pyroclast’s body. It was graceless, but it healed the worst of the internal damage. Pyroclast would live, as long as he got to a doctor. Now, at least, he had hours instead of minutes.
“Now we get to have some real fun,” Hammerblight said brightly, the mockery of Feverfew’s reassuring tones that he spared for anyone under his hands. Pyroclast pushed himself to his feet, covered in his own blood, but standing. Feverfew flinched again when the tip of Hammerblight’s knife caught the skin over the artery in his throat and drew a drop of blood. “Hey Hottie, you good for another round?”
“You know I’m not,” Pyroclast rasped, but he tried anyway. Fire boiled along his hands, almost a mirror of the soft green light that Feverfew wielded. “But let’s go, big man. Let the healer go. He’s no fun.”
“More than you’d think,” Hammerblight laughed. He looked between Pyroclast and Feverfew. “But I’ll tell you what? Let’s make it his choice, huh? What do you say, little healer? I’ll let one of you live. You pick who.”
“What?” Feverfew breathed, and began to fight again. Hammerblight just bashed him back against a wall hard enough to grey out his vision. Concussion, his rattled mind provided as his vision swam. Maybe a cracked skull too. Fixable, but slow to heal. Distorted judgement. Possible brain bleed. “No, you said- you said you would let me save him! You promised!”
“I didn’t promise anything,” Hammerblight  said and bared his teeth, completely unphased by Feverfew’s struggles. “I let you heal him because that just makes it better. Now I get to do it all again, but you have to pick. Do I do it to you, or do I do it to him?”
“Let him go!” Pyroclast yelled and flung a handful of fire at them, but Hammerblight shrugged it off as if it wasn’t even there. “You want to hurt someone? You take me!”
“You’re not a very good villain,’ Hammerblight told him mockingly. “Giving your life for a hero? Pathetic. Well, Healer? Who dies? It’s going to hurt. I promise that. I’m going to take one of you apart, and the other one will watch me do it. After that, well… we’ll see what happens after that.”
He was going to kill them both, Feverfew realized all at once. It wouldn’t matter who he picked. It wouldn’t matter what Feverfew said, or how Pyroclast tried to fight. Hammerblight held all the cards and had all the power. He was going to have his fun with them, and the mind games were only the first part of it. The real fun came when he stole their hope, too. When he stole their humanity.
“Let him go,” he said anyway and looked up at Hammerblight even as Pyroclast yelled protests and called up his fire again. It wouldn’t do any good. He wouldn’t take a real shot at Hammerblight with Feverfew in the way and they all knew it. “You can- you can have me. But you have to let him go first. You have to let him go for real.”
“Or what?” Hammerblight said, and snickered to himself, before he threw his fist out. The air bent around it and created a concussive wave that blasted Pyroclast back against the ruined building behind him. Pyroclast couldn’t even scream as the breath was forced out of his damaged lungs. “You don’t have any power here. You can’t stop me. You’re just a weak little flower, and I’m gonna rip off all your petals, but I’m gonna make you watch what I do to him first.”
Cold terror swept over Feverfew and stole what reason he might have had. The image of a flower burst into his mind suddenly, but it wasn’t the flower he was named for. Not the healing herb that grew nearly everywhere. Not the delicate thing that lost its petals the moment the wind blew past.
“Leave him alone,” he said suddenly, cold and strong and truly angry for maybe the first time in his life.  Pyroclast’s eyes found him, but Feverfew wasn’t looking at him anymore. He was looking at the towering, hulking villain before him who still held the knife that dripped with Pyroclast’s blood. “I’m warning you.”
“You’re warning me?” Hammerblight asked with a scathing grin and looked Feverfew up and down. Feverfew felt his cheeks heat. He wasn’t exactly the image of a hero. He was short, and a little thin, and not very strong because his Power just didn’t do much for his own body. He wasn’t in hero shape. He wasn’t impressive. “You can’t do anything to me.”
“You would be right,” Feverfew said softly, lethal as morphine. Hammerblight must have heard something in his voice, but he didn’t let go. Didn’t back away. “I’m just a healer, you know? But I’m a very good healer.”
“Don’t do this,” Pyroclast said suddenly. Feverfew glanced over at him, and was surprised to realize the villain was addressing him. “Don’t let him win.”
“Tell them I’m sorry,” Feverfew said, and looked at Hammerblight, who was still smiling. Who was still holding onto his arm, brutally tight. All at once, his grip relaxed, and Feverfew took a single step back from him. Hammerblight collapsed to his knees and curled in on himself, suddenly made small as pain wracked through him. As his gut cramped and his hands shook. His eyes dilated, and his heart pounded as his blood pressure began to climb. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breath wheezed in his throat.  He was dead before Feverfew spoke again. “When they come looking for me, tell them I’m sorry, and tell them my name isn’t Feverfew anymore.”
“When they look for you?” Pyroclast asked and tried to get to his feet. Feverfew knelt beside him and pressed a hand to his chest. The Power came easier now, and Pyroclast collapsed under the mingled pain and relief as his injuries closed. Pyroclast tried to catch his hand, but Feverfew pulled away. “Hey now. don’t- don’t make any rash decisions. This was- this was bad, but you’re a hero. You’re one of the good ones, remember? What do you mean your name isn’t Feverfew?”
“You can tell them my name is Hemlock now,” Hemlock said, the edge between sanity and madness a shard of broken mirror in his mind, shattered apart by a villain who pushed a healer too far. “And I’m the one they’ll all fear when they realize what I’ve become.”
+++
Supers:
Card Shark
Heroic Rescue
Housekeeping Before Villainy
Jet Fuel
Rescue Me
On the Dance Floor (Subscriber Only!)
Two-sided love (Subscriber only!)
New Partners (Subscriber only!)
Once More To Die
Too Far (New!)
+++
MASTERLIST
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lilac-gold · 6 months
Text
Day 5- Omori AU Whumptober 2023
AI-less Whumptober Day 5- ALT Prompt Blackmail
@ailesswhumptober
Fandom: OMORI Rating: Teen Word Count: 2860 Summary: Basil had never expected so much of his personal life to be involved in this case. Unfortunately, Jawsum seems determined to involve even more. AO3 LINK See this post for a summary/explanation of the AU
Hero was dead.
Basil had found out through a case file, ordered to defend Hero's suspected murderer. He'd been shocked, a sort of numb devastation quickly spreading under his skin. It was cold and unwelcome, yet distant in a way, and Basil found himself numbly accepting the case.
He'd have to tell Sunny. Oh gosh, what was Sunny going to think?
It seemed impossible, the prospect that Hero could be murdered. Hero was the protector of their group before Mari died, the healer. He was the eldest, charming and well-liked and invincible. Why would anyone want to kill him?
Like ripping off a bandaid, Basil looked at the name of his client. And his heart dropped like a stone.
Because there, printed in bold, black letters, was the name Kel Montoya.
Basil couldn't breathe. It was as rough he'd been doused in freezing water, fingers trembling as his lungs fought for air, strangled wheezes rising in his throat as he desperately tried to deny what lay before him. Hero was dead, and Kel was suspected of killing him. This was all too much.
Eventually, he composed himself, feeling like he was caught in a trance as he visited the detention centre. Kel was sitting forlornly behind the glass, staring miserably at the floor with eyes red from crying. Basil couldn’t help but flinch, the reality of what had happened crashing into him again at full force. Kel was so tall now, his hair even longer than it had been when he was younger, and the look on his face was so distinctly un-Kel that it looked wrong. Kel was wrong.
But Basil knew what guilt looked like, and he knew Kel. Kel was innocent, Basil knew he was. He just had to prove it.
“Wh– Basil?!” Kel exclaimed upon first noticing him. “What are you doing here? It’s been years!”
Basil winced. Kel was right. Nearly a year had passed since Basil attained his law degree, and he and Kel had drifted apart far before that. He opened his mouth, then closed it, hesitating. Then, in a sort of garbled rush, he blurted, “I’m here to defend you.”
“You…” Kel’s eyebrows rose, bloodshot brown eyes widening as they zoomed in on his badge. “You are?”
Basil nodded, uncertainly swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t think that Kel had killed his brother, but even so… “Kel, I– I have to know. Did you really kill him?”
Kel’s face contorted in horror and grief, and that was enough of an answer in itself. “No,” he said firmly, voice hoarse and choked. “Of course I didn’t! Hero’s– he was my brother.”
Basil panicked a little upon seeing the tears that had begun streaming down Kel’s face, fumbling for words of comfort. “I– um—”
“You’ll convince them I’m not the killer, won’t you?” Kel stared at him pleadingly. “We can’t let the person who actually did this get away with it. This was deliberate, that much is obvious. And I think– no, I know who the culprit is.”
“You do?” Basil’s face lit up with hope. That would make things far easier!
Kel nodded firmly, a sharp contrast to Basil’s earlier affirmative gesture. “It was his boss, Mr Jawsum.”
And that hope shattered. Everyone knew Jawsum, renowned as he was for having the most successful business in the city. His connections were unmatched, his confidence unwavering, and it would be impossible to catch him out. Basil wilted. If Jawsum really had killed Hero, he was going to make sure Kel got a guilty verdict. There was nothing Basil could do about it.
“Sorry, Kel,” he said softly. “I don’t think we’re going to be able to prove your innocence after all.”
“What?! Why?!” Kel shouted, fire lighting in his eyes. “We’ve got to!”
“Jawsum knows people, Kel. So many of them are scared of him,” Basil shuddered. “Besides, he’s super rich. There’s no way we can beat him.”
“Catch him out. You’re a lawyer, you’re supposed to be good at this,” Kel said firmly, eyes still blazing. “Hero knew he was suspicious, and must have discovered something big. He was Jawsum’s right hand, there’s no way Jawsum would’ve… Would’ve killed him unless he thought he had to. There’s something up here– extortion, money laundering, blackmail, I don’t know. You’ve just got to find out what.
Basil averted his eyes uneasily. He couldn’t afford to get on the bad side of a suspected blackmailer, not after what he’d done.
“Come on, Basil!” Kel cried in a mixture of frustration and anguish. “We can’t let him get away with murdering Hero!”
Basil flinched again. It wouldn’t be the first time he let someone he knew was guilty get away with killing someone.
…But then… Jawsum wasn’t Sunny, and Hero wasn’t Mari. Hero’s death was deliberate. Jawsum was corrupt. Basil had a chance to expose him. Basil wanted to expose him.
“You’re right,” he agreed quietly, fists clenching at his sides. “Hero is– was a good person. He deserves to have his killer found.”
It felt sickening, referring to Hero in the past tense. Hero was gone. Forever. Just. Like. Mari.
Once he exited the detention centre, Basil managed to procure a copy of Hero’s autopsy report. He’d been stabbed clean through with what seemed to be a fillet knife, easy enough to hide but able to do some serious damage. He’d been discovered in his apartment with Kel, who had reportedly been crying unstoppably at the scene of the crime. Basil hated thinking about it, imagining how the murder might have gone. Maybe Hero fought. Maybe he was caught off-guard. Maybe Jawsum threatened him. Whatever had happened, Basil had no way of finding out for sure, because Hero wasn’t around anymore to tell him.
Eventually, he decided to check up at Hero’s and see if he could find anything. Memories hit him softly as he walked through the house, each feeling like waves on a beach– a slow lulling that came and went, bringing something new every time. He didn’t find much until he looked inside of the attic. There was a box labelled ‘MARI’, and Basil felt sick as he opened it. Looking inside was like being hit with a wave of rancid nostalgia, burning his innards and twisting his memories until they soured even further. Slowly, he looked over Mari’s old Christmas sweater, letters and notes she’d written, photos of her. Then, his hand brushed against something large and firm, and Basil carefully pulled it out.
It was a file, red and sturdy. Curiously, Basil opened it, turning away from the box as quickly as he could. Inside was a sticky note, taped to the inside cover. It read ‘think of what she would want. Don’t fail anyone else. Do it for her’. Basil had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who the note was talking about, and something twisted in his stomach.
As he flicked through the folder, he gasped in surprise. There were pages and pages of names, of crimes, of desperate people trying to tell someone what had happened before it was too late. Basil felt cold sweat prickle at the back of his neck at the countless accounts of blackmail, threats and disappearances. He… he had to take this to the police. That was the logical thing to do.
So, as he passed by the door again, he stopped by a huge, muscled figure who wore a nametag reading ‘Detective Pluto’. Basil gulped, looking up at him and suddenly feeling very, very small as he clutched the folder to his chest. It was like he was a schoolboy again, avoiding people in the corridors and hiding with Sunny inside of the greenhouse.
“Hello!” Pluto greeted in a booming voice. “My name is Pluto!”
“Basil,” Basil greeted stiffly, shaking his hand and trying to hide his nerves. “I’m the defence for the Montoya case.”
“Ah, I see!” Pluto’s eyes lit up in recognition, then they darted towards the folder in his arms. “Hey, what’s that, young Basil?”
“It’s nothing!” He squeaked quickly, and Pluto’s gaze narrowed in suspicion.
“You know that you aren’t allowed to tamper with evidence from a crime scene,” Pluto warned, a frown overtaking his chiselled face.
“I– I know,” Basil forced out through the squeezing in his throat. “This is… Mine. From home. Just case notes, you know? Hahah, hah…”
His voice trailed off weakly, and he hurriedly scarpered, rushing away from the house. When he reached his mint green car, he sighed in relief. He spent some time catching his bearings and rereading the file. He was puzzling over how to go about things when he received a notification in his emails. Basil opened it warily, freezing when he saw who it was from. Jawsum.
It requested that he meet Jawsum in his office as soon as he could. Basil didn’t know what to do.
…This would be a good way of getting information. He didn’t have to tell Jawsum anything, but it seemed that Jawsum had something to tell him. He couldn’t suspect anything– not yet, at least– so Basil had no reason to be wary, right? What could Jawsum realistically do to him? 
Okay, maybe he didn’t want an answer to that. But even if Jawsum did threaten him, Basil did not have much left to lose. He cared not about dying by that point, Hero was already dead, he’d helped string Mari’s corpse from a tree, and Kel was locked away behind a sheet of glass. He could do this. He had to. For Hero, and for Kel. For the sake of everything he’d lost, everything he’d given up.
To his surprise, Kim from his old high school was the one who directed him to Jawsum’s office. He hadn’t expected to see her again, and while they didn’t have the best relationship, it wasn’t like she hated him or anything. He allowed her to guide him, making mindless small talk as they walked past portraits of many businessmen. Basil’s heart twanged painfully at every ‘Employee of the Month’ sign, each having a smiling picture of Hero attached. Kel was right, Jawsum didn’t seem to have any immediate reason to kill him. But the file in Basil’s car suggested otherwise, and Basil was going to meet him, alone. He took a deep breath.
“Kim,” he said slowly. “If– if I… D-disappear, or anything like that… Remember this meeting.”
“What are you talking about?” She asked, perplexed.
“N-nothing,” Basil stuttered out, embarrassed. “It’s– it’s nothing.”
“If you say so,” Kim shrugged. She seemed to be doing well in her position, enjoying it a lot. Basil was happy for her. He couldn’t really say the same about his own profession. “We’re here.”
So Basil bid her farewell, and hesitantly knocked on the door. At the foreboding ‘Enter!’ that followed, he shut his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He could do this. For Hero.
He swung the door open, stepping inside and looking at Jawsum face-to-face. The man was large; tall and broad-shouldered, seeming strong and powerful. He held himself in a way that exuded importance, his suit immaculate as he offered Basil a blinding grin with too-sharp teeth. His slicked-back hair was held perfectly in place, Jawsum’s image exactly what he wanted it to be. Basil, on the other hand, felt like an anxious mess in his green suit and pink tie, hair messy from how many times he’d nervously run his hands through it.
“Ah, Parsley! I’ve been expecting you,” Jawsum greeted, acting as though he knew Basil personally. “I see you got my email.” “Yes, I did,” Basil confirmed shortly, the words jarring and stilted. “And it’s… It’s Basil. What– what did you want to talk about?”
Jawsum let out a loud, deep, unique-sounding laugh. “For a lawyer, you’re not very confident, huh? Or smart, come to think of it…” The click of a lock sounded behind him, and Basil froze like a deer in headlights. Jawsum’s terrifying grin widened. “Let’s talk business.”
“Alright,” Basil agreed, feigning indifference and cursing the way his voice shook. Hero and Mari and Kel and Aubrey were all confident, but Basil had lost them a long time ago. All he had left was Sunny. Sunny was his everything.
“As I hear it, you’ve recently come across a little… Document I’ve been searching for,” Jawsum said smoothly, and Basil could hear his heart hammering against his chest as nervous sweat beaded on his brow. “Red, leather-bound, contains a whole lot of files I don’t want anyone seeing.”
“C-can’t say I’ve heard of it,” Basil lied, his voice high and unconvincing. He’d never been a good liar. It was ridiculous how long he’d managed to keep so many huge secrets to himself. Basil got an awful feeling that he wasn’t going to be able to keep them for much longer.
“Is that so?” Jawsum laughed again, then his demeanour shifted abruptly. His black eyes bore into Basil’s pale blue ones, cold and merciless. A shiver ran down Basil’s spine. “Do you know what the secret to success is, Parsley?”
Basil shook his head. He didn’t try correcting the man that time.
“Know your enemy,” Jawsum flashed his dazzlingly white teeth again. It was not a pleasant smile. “You don’t want to be my enemy, do you, Parsley?”
“N-no, of course not!” Basil exclaimed hurriedly, clenching and unclenching his fists rapidly. He didn’t like this. Jawsum continued to stare at him, vulture-like.
“Good, good… That’s the right answer,” Jawsum nodded approvingly, and Basil breathed a short sigh of relief. He shouldn’t have come. “Because believe me, Parsley, I know all about you.”
Clearly not enough, considering the businessman couldn’t even get Basil’s name right. He frowned.
“I know your past, your friends, your secrets,” Jawsum slid open a drawer, taking from it a few sheets of paper. “Secrets that I’m sure no-one would want getting out.”
He turned one of the sheets towards him, and Basil’s heart stopped.
Because that was one of his pictures, the one he’d taken of Mari’s corpse at the bottom of the stairs. He’d been fumbling with it on the way to collect the siblings, and seeing her there made his finger slip onto the click, turning something in the meantime. It took its own photos from there. Basil should have burned them. He didn’t. He wondered if that was his way of punishing himself for what he’d done. Either way, this was terrible. “No,” he croaked out, because those photos wouldn’t just shatter his life. Oh, no. They’d destroy Sunny’s, too.
“If you don’t want me sharing these around, I suggest you listen closely,” Mr Jawsum instructed, a smug smirk on his face. Basil was hit by a sudden spike of fear and loathing. “After all, we wouldn’t want anyone knowing about how awful you and Sunny are, hm? Hanging a dead girl, making everyone believe she died by choice… It’s despicable, Parsley.”
Breathing felt more like a method of torture than a way to survive by that point, Basil’s lungs burning like they’d been filled with freezing water.
“But, nobody needs to know if you follow orders. Listen to me, and your little friend will be perfectly fine,” Jawsum said, far too jovial for the situation at hand. “What do you say, Parsley?”
Basil remembered the click of the door. There was no escape, and even if there had been, he couldn’t leave without those photos. He’d been doomed from the start. How had Jawsum even gotten them? “...Okay.”
It was Sunny or Kel.
“That’s what I like to hear! So, I want you to keep the case, but drop your investigations. As far as anyone knows, Hero Montoya was tragically murdered by his brother,” Jawsum emphasised, his voice deadly. “A shame– the kid he cared for growing up, stabbing him quite literally in the back. A real, real shame. Kel is guilty, and you’re gonna make sure it stays that way. Capisce?”
“Understood,” Basil affirmed through gritted teeth, the words acrid and sour on his tongue. Sunny or Kel.
“The kid’s already a lunatic– people’d have no trouble believing he murdered his brother. It's not hard to pull off, Parsley." Jawsum assured him lackadaisically. “One failed trial under your belt won’t make much of a difference. Hell, if your friend’s prosecuting, that’s a win for him! So, what are you going to do, Parsley?”
Sunny or Kel. “Fail the trial, sir,” Basil forced out, disgusted by himself. He was such a coward.
“That’s all I needed to hear. I’ll be holding onto these,” Jawsum added on, holding up the photos again. Basil felt bile rise in the back of his throat, resisting the urge to dive towards him and grab them. Jawsum was far, far stronger than he was. “To ensure your… Cooperation. I’m sure you understand.”
Sunny or Kel. Basil didn’t know what to do. This wasn’t a decision, not really, not when he’d spent his whole life craving affection, and all of his teenage years covering up that incident for good. But he had a choice. Sunny or Kel.
…As always, Basil chose Sunny.
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I will continue to work on the Killer and Healer rewrite, I’m just currently at a cringey part of ep. 16 and the cringe is keeping me from writing (even though I have the volume off, I still get second-hand embarrassment).  Once I get past the cringe, I will be back to having a more consistent upload for this story
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apomekhanes · 1 year
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crushed by the wheel and reshaped by the gear [changed by love] - elrond x adar
Chapter 12 posted 27/12!
Rating: E
Fandom: The Rings of Power
Pairing: Elrond x Adar
In the next days Elrond rested and recovered his strength. There was so little to demarcate night and day in these lands, and only when Adar arrived to feed him and tend to his wounds did he see another living being. This arrangement was perfectly acceptable to him—the other Uruks were sure to be less attentive—and less surprisingly, oddly gentle than Adar, who for all the darkness hovering around him still had some spark of Elvish wisdom and healing in him.
In fact, the more Adar acted as his healer, the more the idea planted itself firmly within Elrond’s mind that Adar had been a healer once, in days long since past, in lands Elrond had never seen. His knowledge of herbs, the quickness with which he judged its state; his skill at keeping a wound from infection, the deft way he wrapped and tied the wound—it all reminded Elrond of the elder healers in Lindon, and of the long years over which he studied and worked with them.
He dared not raise the question, not yet at least, but it haunted him, the idea that a practiced healer and the killer who created this foul land could be one and the same. Who was Adar, before all of this? Who could he be, with the right direction and prompting, if only Elrond could find out how to navigate this strange new road?
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geekygirl24 · 5 months
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BL Prompts - Chapter 45 Links
Prompt from Anonymous: For a change it's ZiGang who's jealous & insecure, when Boxiang carelessly starts spending more and more time with an old childhood friend, even cancelling on plans and finally even forgetting a whole date with him. #happyend please! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46255276/chapters/130175002
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Prompt from GaryQ90: Gen Y BL threesome Thanu and Padbok are in a friendly competition in Wayu's eoom on who can make Wayu come the most and make wayu scream (in a good way) and Wayu just find this…oddingly arousing to say the least. Also them marking Wayu as theirs only. Thanks! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46207009/chapters/130111105
Prompt from Lexborn: Hi! A prompt for The director who buys me dinner where we don't get the bittersweet ending and Dong baek dodged the stab and successfully stopped the attacker, saving them both. Of course a happy ending where after 300 years, they're finally together and Director Min finally getting his happy ending. Can be fluffy or sexy up to you. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46231810/chapters/130236220
Prompt from Stormborn_88: An aftermath of what happened with Anna's stalker. They just moved on like nothing major happened (at leats it looked like that without the subs). Anyway… rambling. The prompt therefore being: Kiyoi has some PTSD after what happend to him with that stalker, but also bc of what happened to Hira. So they talk about what happened to them while Hira is the sweet, caring boyfriend he always is with Kiyoi around (srsly him switching between crazy psycho towards the stalker and sweetly talking to Kiyoi was irritatingly cute). So, did I make it on time this round!? https://archiveofourown.org/works/46179736/chapters/130305421
Prompt from AquaM: Hi. Can we try a Killer and Healer Omegaverse where Yue Lou's rut gets triggered unexpectedly? I'll leave the rest of the details to you. NSFW would work. https://archiveofourown.org/works/46279000/chapters/130372072
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book club meeting no. 0
for the @owlcatober prompt 3, reading.
Daeran interrupts Mura reading to have a conversation around the books shes been weighing the party down with, and requests for certain types of books
warnings: none! except some dirty humor about illustrated demon summoning books and a joke that's in line with daerans dialog about certain key figures of the crusades.
The vapid aasimar lounges in her doorway, a book in his hands; A book that should be locked in her chest at the foot of her bed. The bed she's currently sitting on, curled over reading one of the books that caught her eye in the library, just before she finally gave way to exhaustion.
‘And pray tell, why do you think you have the right to rifle through my things?’ a tad defensive, but he revels in evoking such emotion.
‘I was hoping that at least one of the books you decided to make us lug around the city after various mutts and malcontenters would make for more interesting reading than the blandness that counts as reading material in this armpit of the city’ a faux outraged turn of his head, ‘you would think a establishment such as a tavern would have interesting material, not this depravity of culture’ a mock look of dismayed understanding, ‘although i do suppose the damn crusaders got here first and practically leached anything interesting out of this place the second they crosses the threshold’
She volleyed back with a desert dry voice ‘what a shame, i left the heretical books illustrated sex rituals in the dungeon with their creators corpses, i thought i should let their ghosts have some entertainment. And given that you occupy so much of your time and derive so much joy from taunting the crusaders that surround us, I thought that sated your appetite for entertainment. I see my mistake now, and shall seek to rectify it in the future’
‘Surely you could have left some for me?’ he pulled off the pleading look well, but not as well as the tiefling. 
‘If we make it out of here alive i'll commission you a personalized version with all the sacrifices being replaced by her majesty’
And there was the sharp grin that was uncomfortably close to the one that fills her dreams.
‘I will hold you to that, as payment for my suffering among these cruel killer of joy’ his dramatics made him more irritating than endearing, but he was plenty of entertainment by himself, and though she didn't suffer much under the practicality of the current crusaders, the urge to laugh in there face and mock them to the end of the earth for their naivete and piousness was one she fought down often, so having the count voice her slander made some petty part of her sing with joy.
‘Your more than welcome to leave, i believe you should be able to walk out the door’ a dramatic point not out of place on a theater stage, but slightly out of place coming from her wrinkled and creased shirt sleeve, and topped by her cracked nail polish and in some cases torn nails. 
Of course the world had conspired against her appearance in front of the one person in the city who would currently care.
His smug and self assured voice cut through her thoughts, ‘Please you would miss my darling personality’ 
Sharpening her tongue, she lowers her hand and dons a smug grin of her own,  ‘I wouldn't miss the severed heads weighing us down- surely they take up more space than a few books’
A thud through the left wall, and a cut off exclamation accompanied by the sound of swiftly moving hair proved that the tiefling and the half elf had both been, at least to some extent, listening in.
Mentally rewinding the conversation revealed no major conflict, indeed the thief would almost certainly appreciate her joke about the queen, although the rapier wielder was another thing altogether, but one on the fence rather than far out in the field on the opposite side.
The healer in front, on the other hand, had become an order of magnitude more insufferable for his small success in her slip up. Although the jokes on him, given the loudest their conversation got was her sharply revealing the source of the severed heads plaguing the groups various storage's.
Wrapping her hand around the spine of the book splayed open on the covers of her bed, she snapped it shut in an attempt to signal an end to the conversation. 
An attempt that works thankfully, with a mere parting shot of ‘i'll hold you to that promise, and make no promise of my own about hiding the source’ as he turned away to his own corner of the tavern.
A grin slowly built up inside before bursting onto her face as she slipped a hand under her pillow and cracked open the sloppily bound, and disconcertingly bloodstained book hidden underneath.
A delightful read, and insight into the warped minds of the cultists they were fighting, even if some of them were, let's say, lacking imagination. Maybe it would even find its way under the pillow of a certain counts chair.
A book club sounds like the perfect idea to promote conversation and bonds between the ragtag group- she couldn't wait to see what books the count managed to find if it did go ahead.
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“Hurt you,” I finish. “Okay, so we take this one step at a time. I’m not asking for marriage.” I grin, and he laughs. “Just a truce, if we can manage it. I’ll stop pushing you for a reaction, and you can stop trying to choke or kill me…okay, maybe the kill me part. Feel free to choke me any time, it’s pretty hot actually.”-Roxy
"Freedom, family, work, none of it matters. Only them.The Vipers.My Vipers.I’m their girl.And I just ruined that. I refuse to be like Ryder and Kenzo’s parents. I refuse to be the bitch who ruined Garrett. I refuse to be the mother who never loved Diesel. I refuse to repeat the past."-Roxy
"With them next to me, I turn and take in their eyes. “You keep saying you don’t want to be like your father.” I look to Kenzo and Ryder. “Your mother.” I look to Diesel. “Your anger and hate.” I look at Garrett then. “But the question isn’t who you don’t want to be, but who you do want to be. I think you’ve finally decided,” I whisper, tears in my eyes. “And so have I. I want to be yours.”-Roxy
"I am imperfectly perfect. I am a lover and a fighter. I am strong and weak. I can be cruel and a killer, but also kind and a healer. I am all of those things, and loving my weaknesses means I can embrace my strengths and be just whom I want to be."-Roxy
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"Slick black hair is pushed back, styled flawlessly, long on top and short on the sides..But his eyes? They are black, cold, and calculating. ... His cheekbones are high and sharp, his jaw chiselled with stubble covering it, only framing his lush, plump lips. He’s tall, around six foot three, and his suit hugs his thick thighs and arms in the most tempting way. He’s just too perfect to look at, like a model."
“It isn’t about the money, it’s about keeping my family safe. Giving Diesel a place where he can be himself, and providing Garrett with a home to retreat to and be protected,” I murmur.“And Kenzo?” she prompts.“He needs a family, people to care for and love.” I shrug.“And you?” she presses with a smile.“Me?” I repeat.“Yes, Ry, you. What do you need?” she inquires.I hesitate, and she smiles wider. “I don’t think you have ever thought about that, have you? Too busy being the best, and giving them everything they ever wanted and needed, that you never thought about what you wanted.”“I want them, my brothers. I want their happiness and safety.” I shrug."-Ryder & Roxy
"I’ve done some evil shit in my life. I’ve stepped on people. I’ve killed them. I’ve destroyed their lives and families and businesses without a blink. My hands are covered in more blood than she could ever imagine. All for them. My family."-Ryder
“No, we took it after my father died. We never wanted his name nor to have any of our success resting on his surname. We took Viper, because when you back a snake into a corner, they are more dangerous than anything. We had all been backed into those corners. By family. By grief. By money. We were all vipers…and now you are too.”-Ryder
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"This guy’s facial structure is similar to the first one, but no stubble. He’s clean shaven with a slightly squarer jaw. His hair is longer on top and shaved on the sides, shoved back carelessly. He’s taller than the first and more stacked, not as put together, but hot as hell."
"He hums. “I saw in your eyes, like I said, the same ghosts we carry. Honestly, we needed someone to come here and shake us up. We were just functioning, barely a family anymore. The business and money were taking its toll, and we were all becoming cold—Ryder too serious, Diesel too wild, Garrett too angry and withdrawn…”“And you?”...“Too wandering. I kept going further and further, but you bring me home, Roxy. You bring us all back and remind us why we started this. Love and family,” he whispers."-Roxy & Kenzo
“She wasn’t a bad woman, she loved us deeply. I think Ryder forgets that sometimes. He did pay for this, though, to look after her in death. I come here a lot to speak to her, to feel close to her. To never forget where we come from and the strength of love and bonds,” I whisper into the dark...“She would have loved you, you know?” I grin. I used to find sadness here, but not now. I find it peaceful, my escape. I miss her, I always will, but she wasn’t made for this world. Too soft, too loving, too caring. My father destroyed it all. I will never let Ryder become that. He protects us, and I keep him humble…well, I try."-Kenzo
“Strategy,” he murmurs, looking back at me. “It’s all about strategy and reading people, darling, just like I read you that first day and every day since.”...... When I look back, though, he’s staring at me. “You’re the best bet I ever won, darling,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing my shoulder. “And this is now your empire too.”-Roxy & Kenzo
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"His long blond hair is pushed behind pierced ears. Tattoos peek out of the top of his white shirt, which is partially tucked into ripped, faded jeans and black boots. His arms are huge and dotted with tattoos here and there, his skin golden and glistening, but he seems like the type to be covered in grease and dirt. His eyes are a bright blue and locked on me, but there’s something not quite right about them."
"Do you know what monsters fear, Little Bird?”“What?” she whispers shakily.“The bigger monster,” I whisper, licking her lips. “They fear me.” -Diesel & Roxy
“Your surrender,” I growl. “I know there is a wild one inside you, like me, just waiting to be set free. I noticed it in your eyes the first time I saw you. You will do anything to survive, like us. You’re more like us than you can imagine. You see the darkness, and you walk that line, one foot in and one foot out. Put both feet in, Little Bird, this is your world now. Filled with bloodshed and snakes. You want something, then take it. Do whatever the fuck you want, Little Bird, because the rest of the world does.”-Diesel
“Because you really don’t hate us, and you’re looking for reasons not to. There’s one. Yes, I’m a monster, Little Bird. I love people’s pain, I love my job, I enjoy killing people and making them suffer. I love protecting my family, and I do it all for them…and now you.”-Diesel
“Me? You barely know me,” she murmurs.“I know enough. You are one of us now. I will protect you like them, you entered a den of vipers, Little Bird. You choose whether to remain as our prey or shed and become a predator. Choose wisely. Not everyone is invited inside, in fact, no one is. Live or die."-Diesel
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"The last one doesn’t speak, just stares at me from dark eyes. I spot his long eyelashes from here, the type girls would be envious of, but that’s the only girly thing about him. He’s massive, his arms are thicker than my whole body, and his white shirt clings to his bulging biceps and veiny forearms, indenting at his pecs and chiselled abs.His jeans are tight, like he can’t find the right size, and his hair is brown with blond streaks, styled casually to the side. Every single inch of him is covered in tattoos, and a black lip ring glistens in the light."
"I grin. “From you?”“It’s an essential, I still hate you,” he snaps, making me laugh.“Don’t worry, I hate you too.” I nod, and he smirks at me for a moment.“Open it,” he demands.I do as I’m told, and a huge grin covers my face. It’s a gun, better than my old shitty one. No, this one is fancy, and carved into the slide are the words “Vipers’ girl.” “There is no ammo in it at the moment.” He coughs.“Didn’t want me to kill you?” I grin. “Accidentally, of course!” I flutter my lashes at him, and he barks out a laugh."-Roxy & Garrett
"Roxy is so alive, so full of laughter, and if I ever tried to give her money, she would throw it in my face. Her hate, her anger matches mine, her scars mirroring my own. She is my world now, and it only shows me how desperate for love I was to not only fuck this woman, but propose."-Garrett
"She worked her way under my armour, under my ruined skin to the fighter, the warped killer beneath, and she loved him and made him love her. She is my reason to breathe now, to fight my demons every goddamn day."-Garrett
Book Rating:⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ 1/2
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