#there are a few circular saws but nothing unreasonable

[shittysawtraps]

2025 is a year to better ourselves. who among you will get in the group saw trap with me.

[silvernyxchariot]

Kabuto Yakushi x GN!Reader

Content Warnings: Fluff, sickeningly sweet; Lords, was I always this gawky as a kid; reworked one-shot from 2012-14 era

Word Count: 1437

“My life wasn't horrible… but it certainly was dreary.”

Another day in my life and I wake up in a candlelit room, the small prison window on the door also supplies my sight with the torches in the hallway. There’s practically nothing for me to do, maybe a simple little desk and some writing supplies. The other inmates are crazed from constant boredom and experimentation; not even one can offer an intellectual sentence.

I roll my eyes at another distant scream.

Orochimaru's forsaken eastern hideout was miserable, but aren't they all; even though we are in the land of fire, as far as I could remember, why hasn't anyone found this place? My jutsu is undeveloped. My shinobi skills are unrefined. So, why does he want to keep me? No… I think I want to be here.

Flashback Back then, I had lived a simple life. The waterfall was luke warm at best, but it was useful for a bath and I can't help but linger in the lakes depths. Brilliant blue to a burnt orange to a yellowish grey, I watched as the sky turned to night. The day had come and gone as if nothing else had existed. The water calmed my nerves, but I must've looked like a raisin by now. My cottage is only two minutes away from the waterfall. As I walked through the brush, my reflexes proved horrible. Three little pricks sent shivers into my very core, silver piercings in my arm, shoulder, and neck. Pressure points. “Damn it.” When I hit the ground, and before I fainted, a man walks up to my place on the ground. In a rather polite voice laced with hints of venom, “I'm sorry Miss; I didn't—” That's all I could hear before the my senses went black. Fortunately, I saw my assailant's face. He was… pretty? His silver hair and onyx black eyes just shown so beautifully; but what was so funny was… His circular glasses made him look so boyish. Then everything faded. End Flashback

That was such a cliché meeting. Yes, the reason I stay is for this one person. Stupid, don't you think? And it started with mistaken identity. But I don't care; I couldn't help but love him. For months, I've followed Kabuto around, whether it be for small errands or a dangerous mission. Most of the time, I have been his subordinate specifically. At least I try my best to be. You see, I’m not the best shinobi since I was never given any formal training. A few punches and kicks in taijutsu. I can barely release myself from simple genjutsu. And never mind trying to pull off a shadow clone. I was a horrible shinobi.

I would fall off almost any branch or ledge, trip and roll down a hill but Kabuto was never mad at me. He’s patient and maybe hyper fixated on his current task that I must force him to remember how to drink or eat. It’s strange; possibly he felt the same. Kabuto had been a creeper on a couple of occasions: staring at me, caressing my thigh, or maybe twiddling my hair. I stare into his eyes when he’s too close.

In the darkness of my cell a small beam of light appears, for the door creaked open and guess who stood there. “Come on out. We're going somewhere,” his close eyed smile is so innocent that I had to chuckle. “You must be bored. As always.” Kabuto stayed in step with me.

“Ok…” I never argued, Kabuto never asked anything unreasonable of me. “Where are we going, Kabuto?”

“I just need to find something… You have decent eyes. So, you're going to help me,” he shrugs nonchalantly as if the screams didn’t exist. The smirk on his face was far too enigmatic for a simple mission like he claims this one is, but I could not read his face; what's new?

I have no idea what time means or what it is when I’m underground. Kabuto brought me out in the blazing heat of summer, and I have to squint and keep my eyes shut for a few minutes. But the fresh air feels good. My joints pop as I stretch and rotate my joints. My lungs groan and scream as I fill them with air.

Four Hours Later, flying through the trees, the orange gleam of disappearing light is behind us. The branched groan at our landing and body weight. Kabuto and I had been traveling on foot. The evergreen forest became thicker and thicker, but it was beautiful. The trees offered shade from the blazing sun and cool relief in the summer heat. As we continued, rainbow bundles of flora became more evident. Over the horizon, a silver round moon began to rise.

Finally, Kabuto dropped at a moment’s notice and came to a stand still near a small cave entrance. Catching my breath, I descended to stand beside him. Kabuto only slightly turned to see if I was even still here. “Kabuto!” He left me without a clue, so the basic thing I would do… follow him. Time and time again, tripping fucking hurts. The only thing I could possibly grab a hold of for balance in the barely lit cave was Kabuto. Despite his slender build, he’s sturdy and holds me upright without even trying. His dark chuckle only ever made me clumsier, as it was distracting. Always was. I staggered until he finally decided to pick me, legs and knees up, and face-to-face with those circular frames.

“If you keep this up you do realize we'll never get back to the hideout in time. I'm only given roughly 2 days just to find this.” What is it!? He never tells me anything. “Close your eyes, count to ten, and then open them.” I huffed but obeyed. He was demanding and actually quite forceful sometimes. If I didn’t close my eyes, he’d shove his face over my sight. I had to take advantage of this and let myself snuggle into his embrace, arms wrapped around his neck and the collar of his shirt. I heard him huff but I had a triumphant smirk on my face.

Ten, nine, eight, seven…

When I open my eyes, the moonlight is an ethereal beauty. Everything glimmered with a silver coat of pale light. Everything is moving in slow motion. The dragonflies and fireflies buzz around. The more I looked around the buds of the evening moon lilies opened wide as if to greet me. My favorite. They only bloom in the dark. Small flowers with a sweet scent; the best appearances for a night wedding, ornaments, or a bouquet.

“Happy birthday…” Kabuto stands at the edge of the cave we just exited. A little awkward, not sure what to do with himself, but I was too busy chasing the rabbits that inhabited the little clearing. He set me down to let me wander the garden cave. In that moment, exasperation and awe fills me with warmth despite the creeping cold of the night.

This small area. It was beautiful. The pond and little river, that reflected the shimmering moon, was surrounded by iridescent blooms.

I couldn’t hold my excitement as I turned and crushed Kabuto in a crushing grip. I peered into his black eyes, satisfaction. He was happy and so was I. But it didn't matter where we were and what was happening, as long as we were together a moment like this would never go away. “I have something else for you.” He pulled a chain from his pocket and clipped it around my neck. An intricate summer themed locket.

“I wish I could repay you for this…” Nothing but a whisper. I could say nothing more. But no other words were exchanged. In their place, a forceful kiss.

Kabuto chuckled in amusement while adjusting his shirt and smirking into the chaste kiss, “I guess we should be getting back…”

“Yeah, uh, Kabuto. I lik- I love you.” A deep, bloody crimson filled my cheeks along with heated ears.

“I figured you'd say that” he chuckles as he stares down at me. “I love you too. I belong to you; you can do whatever you want to me, and I would let you do it.”

It was so exciting. “Really?” I whined with high-pitched excitement. He stayed silent for a moment and then patted my head like I was a kitten. I wrap my arms around this waist and rest my chin on his chest. “I know. I will always be yours in return… Always by your side.”

.

.

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One of the fan fics I'm editing from my neophyte years, and will subsequently post here to Tumblr.

Damn. I wish teenage me was mentally mature enough to have joined Tumblr during the SuperWhoLock era. For context, I'm catching up on some old shows that I wasn't interested in when I was a kid: iZombie, Bones, HIMYM, Dexter, and newer stuff like Queen's Gambit. THE CHAOS, where everyone loved gushing and word vomiting, must have been so much fun.

[incorrectbandofbrothersquotes]

You Better, You Better, You Bet - Chapter 6

Adore You

Ron Speirs x Juliet Fletcher

Summary: Juliet Fletcher reaches a breaking point in her life. When she is at her absolute lowest, she meets Ron Speirs, and something happens between them that neither of them will ever forget.

Word Count: 4.2k

Tag List: @vintagelavenderskies​​​ @how-are-those-nuts-sarge​​​ @iilovemusic12us​​​ @hesbuckcompton-baby​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​ @whovian45810​​ @50svibes​​​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Hope you guys enjoy this update!

Warning(s): The beginning of this is just a touch NSFW, but nothing explicit. Also, mentions of abuse and later abortion. 

Chapter 1  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4  Chapter 5

AO3 link

Chapter 6 here we go!!!

Sunlight pooled into the room above the Blue Boar, warming the skin of the two bodies tangled up in the sheets upon the bed. It illuminated for Juliet all the places Ron had touched her the night before, the memory of it as electrifying and sensual as the moment itself. She stirred to look up at his sleeping face, goosebumps erupting over her as she recalled the number of times she’d whined his name as he drew climax after climax out of her. It made her squirm against him now from her spot tucked into his side. No one had ever made love to her like that before, and she found herself hungry for more already. 

To steady herself, she listened to his heart, counting the beats coming steady and strong. It didn’t help quell the ache between her thighs because she just remembered bracing herself against that firm chest as she straddled and rode him. Face growing warm with all the images of their tryst, she shifted again. This time, enough to wake him. 

“Morning,” he said, voice raspy with sleep. “‘M surprised you’re up. Must not have done my job right.” 

“Believe me, you did more than enough,” she returned, pressing her lips to his chest, right beside the faint marks from her fingers. Her own voice was a bit hoarse as well, but she had used it quite a bit during the evening.

“I see,” he smirked. “You want more then.” 

Very few people could make Juliet Fletcher blush, but that made her cheeks burn. He was right after all. Even with everything they had done, she was eager to have him again. And again and again and again…

“Shut up,” she grumbled. 

“Fine,” he said with a shrug. “Tell me what you’d rather I do with my mouth.” 

She giggled at that, biting her lip as she considered his offer. “I want it on mine.” 

True to his word, he said nothing, but pulled her close for a deep, heated kiss. Their lips were still slightly swollen from the night before, but it didn’t stop them. There was no rush this morning, just gentle exploration, soft moans, and slow hands. 

As his mouth trailed from her jawline to her collarbone, he stopped, something on her skin standing out to him - something he hadn’t noticed in the night. A circular, red scar where her collarbone met her shoulder. He gently touched it with his index finger. 

“Birthmark?” he guessed, but something in his gut told him he was wrong. 

She shook her head. “Scar. The cigar was a pretty typical threat for Dad, but he made good on it once when I got carried away with back chat. And Billy wasn’t around.” 

His face shifted just slightly when his jaw stiffened and his mouth turned down. “How old were you?” 

“Ten,” she told him. “I don’t even remember what I said or why we were fighting. But I remember the pain, that’s for sure.” 

He met her gaze. “You’re awfully casual about something like that.” 

“It was so long ago,” she returned with half a shrug. “Honestly, I forget it’s there most of the time. And he’s gone now.” 

The way she averted her eyes told him it bothered her more than she was letting on, but he didn’t pry. Instead, he pressed his lips to the scar in a display of tenderness that nearly took her breath away. It did not erase what her father had done, but it felt more healed than it ever had before. 

After their morning round, they decided they needed food or they’d never be able to keep this up. So they headed downstairs.

Juliet hummed through most of breakfast, which was a stroke to Ron’s ego, but he didn’t mention it. He just watched her pop a bit of food into her mouth and do her little in-seat dance that was fucking precious in his opinion and appreciated that he was with her. It seemed odd that the last time they’d had breakfast, they were perfect strangers. Just a few weeks later, they knew each other...well, intimately. 

“Why the book?” he asked suddenly. 

She looked at him mid-bite into some toast. “Hm?”

“Why did the book make you kiss me?” he said.

“It really wasn’t the book to be perfectly honest,” she said, setting the toast back on her plate. “It was what you did to get it.” 

He cocked his head to the side questioningly as he took a sip of his coffee. 

“The whole making up multiple bidders, and choosing Humphrey Bogart as the winning name,” she explained. “And then how much you paid for it. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before.” 

“No way,” he returned. “Not even when you were engaged?” 

She shook her head. “Arthur was...a very self-centered man. He wasn’t unkind, but he had a role he wanted me to fulfill. And I was expected to do it without him putting in any effort to keep me there. I think...he always thought I was lucky to have him. So he never took on any grand gestures.”

“I’d hardly call bidding on your book a grand gesture,” he replied, unsure what else to say to that. Putting effort into someone you liked? Wasn’t that setting the bar a little low? That felt like the bare minimum. He had always thought of love as two people sort of earning each other, and continuing to prove that they cared. 

“It was to me,” she said, her voice soft and just a smidge quieter than usual. Which told him she was really touched by what he’d done. It didn’t surprise him since apparently the only man who had never let her down was her brother. “Thank you.” 

“Well, don’t get too mushy, I mostly did it so I can make fun of you,” he said, lightening the mood. 

She snorted. “You’ll get loads of material from that, trust me.” 

“You’re not afraid of what I’ll find?” he asked. 

“I’m not afraid of anything,” she shot back, a determined gleam in her eye. 

For a moment, he believed her. She did seem to put almost her whole self out there for the world to see, so ready to take a risk. With the father she had and the heartbreak she’d endured, it would have been especially understandable for her to be afraid of everything and everyone. But she took the world head on, and had even opened herself up to him, without once asking him for any sort of promise for a future. She was so remarkable to him, he just sat back and admired her. Until she froze and the color drained from her face. 

“Jules?” 

She didn’t answer him, she only stared at a spot on the table, eyes fixed on something in the middle. He followed her gaze and saw a small spider, maybe a couple centimeters long, creeping across the wood. 

“Juliet?” 

“Fucking shit!” she cried, leaping from her seat. The chair scraped against the floor before toppling onto its side as she scampered away, pressing her body into the wall on the other side of the pub. “Ron, you have to kill it!” 

He gaped at her, utterly astounded. “Are you serious?” 

Her ghost-like complexion told him she was, but she nodded her head anyway, eyes wide with paralyzing fear. 

“Spiders?” he questioned. “That’s what gets you?” 

“They’re creepy!” she insisted. “It’s perfectly normal to be -”

“It’s the size of a -”

“I DON’T GIVE A GOOD GODDAMN HOW BIG IT IS, RON, JUST KILL THE BLOODY THING!” 

Resisting the urge to laugh, he picked up a napkin and slapped it down over the spider, wiping it away before balling it up and walking it over to a trash bin to dispose of the remains. When the coast was clear, he approached her and she shuddered. 

“Ugh, I still feel it on me,” she said. 

“It never touched you,” he reminded her. 

She scowled. “Look at my face.”

“I am looking at your face.” 

“Does it look like I want to be sassed?” 

“It does not.” 

“Then keep your little opinions to yourself.”��

“Not an opinion,” he returned. “It really didn’t touch you.” 

“What did I just say?” she shot back. 

“You’re being unreasonable,” he said. 

“Okay, and?”

He rolled his eyes. “Let’s just finish breakfast.” 

“No way!” she cried. “I’m not going back over there, what if there are more of them?” 

“There aren’t.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do, actually, I was just there.” 

“Can’t we just leave?” she asked. 

“Juliet, I promise if there are any more spiders, I will kill them just as swiftly and mercilessly as this one,” he said. “Let’s finish our meal.” 

She eyed him skeptically, as if at any moment he would open up his jacket to reveal a secret stash of spiders just waiting to assault her, but he only held out his hand. Reluctantly, she took it and allowed him to lead her back to the table. He resumed his seat right away, but she inspected hers first. Satisfied there were no more spiders, she sat. 

He sipped his coffee. “So, is it just spiders or all bugs?” 

“Spiders, mostly,” she answered. “Other bugs I can take care of myself.” 

“Why spiders, then?” 

“It’s just a thing,” she said with a shrug. “I can’t explain it.” 

He could have argued there was a lot about her that couldn’t be explained, but decided against pointing that out. He just took another sip of coffee. She reached for her fork. 

“Juliet, wait!” he said urgently. “I think I see another one!” 

She screamed and hurled the fork away from her. It soared over to the adjacent table and clattered onto it before skidding to a stop. She looked over at it, chest heaving with her frightened breaths. Incidentally, it was free of any creatures. She glowered at Ron and the infuriating smirk on his face.

“That’s not funny,” she grumbled. 

“It’s a little funny,” he returned. 

“I loathe you right now.” 

“I can live with that.” 

She snatched his fork from in front of him and used it instead. “You’re a bully.” 

“Eat your eggs,” he replied. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she retorted. 

He shot her a steely look, and she stuck her tongue out at him before taking a bite of her eggs. She chewed and swallowed. 

“That’s a good dad look you’ve got there,” she said. “D’you use it on your subordinates?”

“Dad look?” he questioned. 

“Y’know, the stern look,” she said. “You pull it off well.” 

“You seeing that as paternal is only a little bit disturbing,” he replied. 

“That’s fair,” she conceded. “I didn’t have the best example.” 

“I’d say you probably had one of the worst,” he said. 

“Wouldn’t fight you there.” 

“To answer your question, if my men disappoint me, I make it known, in whatever way the situation calls for,” he said. 

“That’s...vague,” she said. 

He only shrugged again before he changed the subject. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” 

“I’m actually taking the train to Trowbridge to interview the defense attorney for the Lee case,” she said. “I should be back by this evening, though.” 

“You want some company?” he offered. “We don’t have any training going on today.” 

She blinked. “Really?” 

“Sure,” he said. “Despite your attitude, I kinda like spending time with you.” 

“Flattering,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I actually...would love that. Thank you.” 

Once again, something so basic was - to her - going above and beyond. It was clear to him that Juliet had become accustomed to a certain level of interest in her, and it was low. He hoped to prove otherwise. 

***

Trowbridge was not much bigger than Aldbourne, there was just more going on since it was the capital of the county. Juliet was meeting the defense attorney at his office, and she confessed to Ron she was a bit nervous about the interview. He wasn’t an attorney that worked for the government, he was in private practice. His name was Harvey Cooper, and when Juliet had done some background on him, she discovered he was well-known for cases like the Lee case. He had actually sought out Meredith Fisher when the police report came through about Peggy’s body. There was a lot that could go wrong, but Ron reminded her that there was also a lot that could go well. 

They arrived at the office, where they were greeted by a secretary. Harvey emerged from his office with a smile that would have been more appropriate for a salesman than a defense attorney for a murder case. He shook Juliet’s hand, accepted without question that Ron was her photographer, and took them back to his office. He gave a brief, cheerful tour of the place, explaining that he’d done some updating, but was limited because of the war. Juliet and Ron exchanged a surprised look at the man’s chipper disposition. 

“Well, Miss Fletcher, I must say I’m surprised you’re working this story,” Harvey said as they all took seats in his office, Juliet and Ron on one of the desk, and Harvey on the other. “I read some past issues of the London Pursuit, and saw you were an entertainment writer.” 

“Yes,” she said gracefully. “I got a bit of a promotion, you see, with the majority of the men otherwise occupied.” 

“Sure, sure,” Harvey replied. “Of course, in my line of work, I’m more than aware of what women are capable of.” 

Ron watched Juliet’s careful disguise of her distaste to that remark. She forced a smile and tucked her hair behind her ear, before retrieving her notepad and pencil from her bag. 

“Certainly,” she said. “Which brings me to the point at hand. I’ve spoken to the prosecution about Meredith Fisher’s case, and the evidence is really strong. How do you plan to plead?” 

“Not guilty,” Harvey answered simply. 

“On what grounds?” she asked, unsurprised by that answer. 

“Institutional failure,” he said. 

That took her aback. She blinked for a moment and sat back in her seat. “Institutional failure?” 

“Absolutely,” he said. “Operation Pied Piper was under prepared and under planned. According to my research, no one vetted any of the families who agreed to take in children. If you signed up, you were approved, no questions asked.” 

Juliet’s brow furrowed. “While that’s certainly interesting, it doesn’t absolve Mrs. Fisher of responsibility for her individual actions. No other unvetted family has done this.” 

“But they could have,” he insisted. “I believe Mrs. Fisher is being made into a scapegoat for something that could have reasonably happened to any number of the children who were part of the program.” 

She stared at him for a long moment, and Ron watched her. He could see the wheels turning in her head as she tried to make sense of what she was hearing. Ron didn’t quite understand it either - it was a flimsy argument. 

“Are you...are you taking the piss?” she questioned. 

“Not in the slightest,” Harvey said. 

“Mr. Cooper, that argument is generally only used in civil cases for things like job termination,” she said. “This is murder. And it didn’t happen to any of the other children. Mrs. Fisher isn’t a stand in for something that’s been happening nationwide, this is a single instance.” 

“But, if the committee in Parliament had done its job, Peggy Lee would never have gone to the Fisher home,” he said. 

“Why?” Juliet pressed. “Does Mrs. Fisher have a record of violence?” 

“No, but one interview could have told them that she had no children of her own,” he said. “They never could conceive - a naturally devastating thing for a woman. Who would trust her with a child after discovering that?” 

She froze, and Ron watched something flash behind her eyes. A storm was brewing inside her, a hellish anger at the implication there. He didn’t agree with what Harvey was saying either, but that was just the sort of comment that set Juliet off. 

“Your entire argument is childless women being unhinged simply because they are childless,” she said, and there was a strain on her voice to keep it level. “There are plenty of women who cannot have children who do not go around murdering other people’s, myself included. Your head is up your ass if you think this will be an acceptable defense in a court of law!” 

It took Ron a moment to fully absorb what she had just admitted. He wondered for a fleeting second if Juliet was bluffing, but she was too ethical. In situations like this, she wouldn’t lie - not about something so serious. He also wondered if it was something he could ask her about, but that was a conversation for later. 

“Any doctor would diagnose her as unstable,” Harvey said, face darkening. “And I don’t appreciate your tone, Miss Fletcher.” 

“I don’t appreciate your ignorance, Mr. Cooper,” she shot back. “She wasn’t diagnosed as anything except woman, and that was by you, not a doctor.”

“Hold on -”

“So if I - I dunno - leapt over this desk and strangled you,” she cut across him, and Ron held back a laugh. “You would reasonably expect another attorney to argue that it’s the responsibility of the London Pursuit because they should have known, say, that my ex-fiancée was an attorney therefore I’m more likely to kill one? Because scorned women are known to be more furious?” 

“That’s not the same.” 

“It’s exactly the same, only in your case, worse,” she snapped. “A child is dead, and you are making a mockery of the fight for justice.” 

“I’m doing my job -” 

“Your job should entail getting Mrs. Fisher evaluated by a doctor and arguing down her sentence based on her mental capacity,” she returned. “Instead, you are reducing her to a monster because she is unable to give birth.” 

“I’m not -” 

“Even if it were true - which it isn't,” she interrupted him again. “It would still be her own fault for putting her hands on a child!” 

Harvey slammed his hands down on his desk, which prompted Ron to get to his feet, but Juliet didn’t even flinch. She stared that lawyer down as if they were in the courtroom already and she was the cross examiner. She was so unafraid it was almost difficult to believe that just hours ago a little spider had sent her running across the room. 

“Miss Fletcher,” Harvey said levelly, casting a sideways glance at Ron. “You clearly came into this interview with your mind made up about my client and this case. I must ask you to leave.” 

She stood up. “You’re right, I did come in here with my mind made up,” she said. “But that’s because I’ve got the facts. Unlike you, Mr. Cooper, I do not rely on drollery to do my job.” 

“That’s a bold statement coming from a woman -” 

“Do not ever reduce me to my sex, Mr. Cooper,” she snapped. “Yours certainly will not protect you from being intentionally stripped of your dignity.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and swept out of the office. Harvey stood up. He went around his desk and started after her. 

“Hold on, what does that mean?!” he called. 

Ron intercepted him at the doorway, stopping Harvey with a hand to the chest. 

“No,” Ron said simply, with a warning look. It went without saying that Ron had about fifty pounds on Harvey, so if he followed them out, there would be consequences. When that was well understood, Ron went after Juliet. 

She was already outside by the time he caught up, and she was waiting for him. The wind blew her hair, and he was briefly struck by how attractive she looked. He was already aroused by how she did in the interview. When he wasn’t on the receiving end of her ranting, it really was something. It was something when he was, but ultimately more enjoyable when it was directed at someone else. Because he could just sit back to watch her go and admire her. 

“Well done back there,” he said. 

“What an absolute wanker,” she said. “Institutional failure, what a fucking joke. And how insulting for Mrs. Fisher. Everyone deserves a lawyer who takes them seriously. And he clearly doesn’t.” 

He only nodded in agreement. “What did you mean by the dignity stripping comment?” 

“I can’t print anything about this until the trial happens, but believe me, that conversation will be included in the article,” she said. “I’m not normally one to get set on taking someone down, but if he seeks cases like this out just to pull stunts like that, the public should be aware.” 

Her face was red with frustration and her pace had quickened. Luckily, Ron had no trouble keeping up since his strides were longer than hers. His own heart was racing, but mostly out of his excitement about her. When there was a break in the buildings, he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into the alleyway, pinning her against the wall. He stifled her yelp of surprise with a searing kiss. He wanted to show her how much he felt for her. She was smart, passionate, and annoyingly ethical, but he adored her. Seeing her in action only reinforced just how much. 

She moaned into his mouth before they broke apart for air, but clung to his jacket so he wouldn’t get too far away. Her eyes took a moment to re-focus on him after the dizzying intensity of his kiss. 

“You’re incredible,” he breathed. 

She searched his face for something behind his words, but found him genuine. “Thank you.” 

She bit her lip as she looked him up and down, that hunger from the morning returning to her. She craved him again, and when he smirked she knew he was aware of the effect he had. 

“God, what’s wrong with me?” she sighed, shaking her head. 

“Plenty, but I really like you anyway,” he returned, and she beamed. “You wanna get back to Aldbourne?” 

She nodded eagerly. “God, yes.” 

He turned to get onto the street again, but she pulled him back for another kiss, this one just a little longer than the last. 

It was on the train back to Aldbourne that he decided to inquire about what he heard her say in Harvey’s office. Her head rested on his shoulder as the countryside whizzed by, slowly disappearing as the sun sank behind the horizon. He looked at the yellow glow on her face and couldn’t help himself. 

“You really can’t have children?” he asked. 

She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Oh, crikey, I almost forgot I mentioned that.” 

“You don’t have to talk about it if -”

“No, it’s quite alright,” she assured him as she sat up. “We are sleeping together, so you’ve got a right to know.” She paused and looked down at her lap before continuing. “I was pregnant once. By a man I’d been seeing only a few weeks. But I was nineteen years old and terrified of what life would be like with a child I didn’t really want.” She fiddled with the handles of her bag. “So I made the decision to terminate. Only, something went wrong, and I was told because of the mistake, I’d be unable to have children. That’s the long and short of it.” 

The confession should have been shocking, but he found himself remarkably indifferent. He wanted to know more about it, but the act itself did not bother him in the slightest. 

“Did you tell the father?” he wondered. 

She shook her head. “No. I’d made up my mind and I didn’t want him to try and persuade me to change it.”

“So you went alone?” he asked. 

“No, Billy took me,” she told him. “No questions asked. He was the only one who understood.”

“Understood?” 

“I wasn’t ready for marriage or a child,” she explained. “I had so much more I wanted to do with my life.” She met his gaze. “And I’ve done it.” 

“So, no regrets, then?” he questioned hesitantly. 

She pondered that, glancing out the window before looking back at his face. “Not really, no. I’m not suited for motherhood, anyway.” She bit her lip. “Is that...is that a problem?” 

Honestly, he had not thought much about the future, especially since the war started. It was dangerous to hope. Juliet had awakened some of that in him - some glimmer of faith that he could go to war and come back to her. But children? He had never thought that far ahead, so life without them didn’t feel like a disappointment. He just wanted her. 

“No, not at all,” he replied. 

She visibly relaxed at that, letting out a low breath before easing herself back into his side. Before she got there, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and made her look at him once more. 

“And by the way, we’re more than just sleeping together,” he said, and he kissed her smile. 

She settled against him and closed her eyes. He draped his arm around her shoulders. They were content.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

I've been thinking about your Ruthari angst prompts and idk if that's even allowed 😅 but what do you think about a mixture of 3 and 11? 👀

Okay, so I wanted to play with the arranged marriage au for a bit, and these two lines landed like they might be part of negotiations. So here you go:

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?” and “How am I supposed to go on?”  

“What would you do if I didn’t come back?” Runaan paced slowly at Ethari’s side as they circled the fog-shrouded gardens of the Silvergrove Council House for the seventh time, matching the craftsman’s easy amble. The assassin had begun their negotiations with his hands clasped behind his back as they trod the well-worn path just inside the pale filigree wall that ringed the grounds. Now they hung loose at his sides, after over an hour of conversation that gradually found its rhythm. Ethari was surprisingly easy to converse with, so far. Runaan wasn’t certain he really approved of the taller elf’s playful mindset, but his easy forgiveness and acceptance had soothed away a lot of Runaan’s initial worries.

Runaan kept his face carefully forward as they walked, not wishing to indicate any weakness by glancing Ethari’s way too often, but he kept Ethari’s boots in the corner of his eye so he didn’t walk too fast and leave him behind.

I could. I could leave him behind. I’m faster, stronger. But my life has never been mine to direct. It belongs to Xadia. And so does my heart. Runaan took a slow breath as Ethari thoughtfully contemplated his reply, nibbling at his lip. My heart for Xadia. So, my heart for Ethari, as much as I can manage it.

“I suppose,” Ethari began slowly, “I would do whatever the council wished me to do.”

That was the best answer Runaan could have expected. Ethari had a deep sense of duty that overrode his personal feelings, just as Runaan did. Another thread of tension loosened in his shoulders. No one understood duty like an assassin, but the council had selected Ethari from among all the eligible craftsmen in the Silvergrove. He was the best they could find. But Runaan was the one who’d marry him, and he needed to be sure, too. And now, to his relief, he was sure. Ethari was willing to do his duty, no matter what.

Good. He’ll need that as much as I do.

“Would they make me marry the next assassin leader, too, do you suppose?” Ethari continued. He looked further ahead on their circular path, as if he could see such a dark future already looming.

Runaan blinked in surprise. He shifted himself out of the equation--an easy habit of long practice--and considered the idea. “It depends on what sort of match we have, I think.”

“How do you mean?” Ethari’s voice was carefully distant, unwilling to give any indication of interest either way.

Runaan pouted thoughtfully. “Well, if we match well in skill, if your crafting is of high quality and I perform admirably with your weapons, then the council will be inclined to match you with another assassin so you can continue to perform your valuable services.”

“Hmm.”

Runaan glanced over from beneath a single raised brow at Ethari’s noncommittal noise. “You don’t agree?”

“Does the council take feelings into consideration in situations like that?” Ethari asked.

“Feelings?” Runaan scoffed lightly. Feelings never protected anyone from anything. They were more likely to cause chaos than bring order.

Ethari shot him an uncertain glance. “Yes, feelings. What if...?” He looked away abruptly.

“You worry they would match you with a woman?” Runaan guessed.

A tiny smile flickered at the corner of Ethari’s lips and vanished. “That wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Oh. What, then?”

Ethari glanced across the gardens, to where the lacy arches of the Council House faded into the mist. “Can I ask you for a favor, Runaan?”

Runaan’s spine straightened. A personal request from his intended? This was the sort of thing he would be expected to agree to, wasn’t it? They were to be partners, allies, for the protection of Xadia and the Silvergrove. But soft subjects were merely practice for the important things. That was Runaan’s takeaway after Tiadrin sat him down and gave him a thorough talking-to, anyway. “Of course,” he responded. He had no idea what to expect, but he was intensely curious what could prompt Ethari to ask for a personal boon just then. “Anything you like.”

The craftsman’s eyes scanned the foggy garden until he spotted something that met with his approval. He held out a broad-palmed hand toward Runaan. “Will you come with me for a moment?”

Runaan stilled, studying the outstretched hand so easily offered. I suppose I should get used to this elf’s touch sooner rather than later, he reasoned. Slowly, he placed his gloved hand in Ethari’s, resting it there as lightly as a landing bird.

Ethari grinned warmly and gave Runaan’s hand a gentle squeeze. Then he towed him past a couple of short fruit trees that were just budding their spring leaves, until they were entirely hidden from sight, against the outer wall of the gardens. He pulled Runaan to face him and gave him a secretive smile. “Here, this’ll do.”

Runaan glanced around uncertainly. “For what?”

Ethari glanced down, suddenly bashful. “I, I thought we should kiss. To get used to it. They’ll expect it of us in public from time to time.”

Runaan’s brows lowered. “We don’t have to kiss.”

Ethari’s shoulders slumped a little. “Do you mean right now, or... ever...?”

Runaan’s expression tightened as he struggled with these unfamiliar notions Ethari was creating in him. “We are to be wed for the good of the SIlvergrove, Ethari. You are a craftsman of immense skill, and I am to become the leader of the assassins. Our union will stabilize the chaos of the past few years and ensure a brighter future for everyone. Kissing...” Runaan shook his head slowly, baffled. “Kissing doesn’t enter into it.”

“Kissing doesn’t--?” Ethari blurted. “Runaan...”

Perplexed at Ethari’s sudden outburst, the assassin took a moment to look him up and down, seeking some reason for his intense reaction. But he saw only a tall, frustrated craftsman before him, clearly in on some secret Runaan did not possess. It seemed he’d have to ask out loud for it. “What?”

“You fool.” Ethari’s hands were on his cheeks in a heartbeat, pulling him closer. Runaan’s sound of protest was trapped in his mouth as Ethari’s lips found his, hard and urgent, driving him back against the garden wall. Runaan backed into it with enough force to  draw a grunt from his chest.

Ethari chased him there, pressing himself flush against Runaan, pinning him with writhing eagerness. At the sound of Runaan’s grunt, he let out a low, grinding moan to match, sieving his fingers into the assassin’s hair.

Don’t stab him. Do not stab him. He wouldn’t understand. This is for Xadia. The thought flared red in Runaan’s mind, tangled and fragmented by a truly frightening amount of heated sensations that burst out of nowhere and swarmed him like a cloud of moon moths seeking escape, finding none. What is... what is he doing to me... what is this...

A stifled groan slipped through Runaan’s teeth. Instead of shoving Ethari away as he felt would be proper for such an uninvited assault, Runaan found his hands knotting in Ethari’s shirt and tugging him closer still. He wrapped a leg around Ethari’s ass and snugged their bodies together, lost in the grip of unreasoning neediness.

“Nnngh.” Ethari’s moan nibbled its way along Runaan’s jaw and nipped at the delicate skin beneath his ear. Runaan arched against his lips, tilting his chin up, bucking his hips forward with a soft cry.

Ethari steadied himself with a grip on a swirly amid the pattern in the filigree wall. His other hand teased beneath the lower edge of Runaan’s shirt, and his words rang breathlessly in Runaan’s ear.  “Runaan... I’ve always loved you... always... You make me so happy, this is a dream come true...”

“Aah!” Runaan tore himself away and stumbled a couple of steps sideways, panting heavily. His body throbbed in all the best places, his skin was flushed, his pupils blown. But he held out a hand to ward Ethari off. “You tricked the council?” he puffed. “You lied to them?”

Bereft, shocked, Ethari made an abortive reach toward Runaan and then stopped. “What? No!”

“They asked me if I had any attachments.” Runaan’s voice was cold, but why wouldn’t Runaan’s heart settle? It insisted on galloping across the Forest like a wild moonstrider. “I said no, so I was approved for consideration. And it was the truth.”

“I... Runaan, it wasn’t a lie! I’d never told you. There was no attachment to lie about.”

“There was in your heart.”

Baffled, breathless, desperate, Ethari took a step forward with his hands out pleadingly. “How is that a bad thing? I told them nothing of my feelings. I let them decide, for the good of the Silvergrove. And now that it’s decided, I’m telling you the truth! Isn’t that what couples do when they trust each other?”

Runaan’s brows drew down, and he thought searchingly through the wild storm of his feelings, seeking the hard edges of something reliable. Ah. There. He tucked his hands behind his back--the better to keep them off this deceptively charming elf before him--and straightened up into a formal assassin pose. “That’s just it, Ethari. I don’t trust you. We don’t know each other that well. And we’re not a couple. We’re a team--or trying to be--serving Xadia first and foremost. And you just admitted that you’re capable of deceiving the whole village council--and me--to get what you want. You told me you’d marry whoever the council paired you with, if I fell, but that’s not true, is it? You’ve put your needs above those of the many. And that, I cannot abide.”

Genuine fear bled across Ethari’s face as Runaan’s words sank in. “Runaan, please don’t... Are you calling this off?” His bottom lip trembled, and he pressed a shaking fist against his mouth. “Please don’t tell me I’ve ruined everything, please, please...” He closed his eyes and stood there, vulnerable, exposed. “You’re right. You’re right. It probably isn’t true. If I lose you to the humans someday, I won’t want to marry another. I just want to be with you. If...” His sunset eyes searched the mists for answers and flew back to meet Runaan’s stern gaze. “If I lose you--later, or right now--how am I supposed to go on?”

Runaan’s jaw worked as he stared at the pleading craftsman. His touch had been electric, dazzling. Runaan craved it again already. But such neediness would be an imbalance that could cost him in a critical moment--and if he fell, then his entire purpose was at risk. His head scrambled for distance even as his heart thrummed with eager heat. “I cannot trust you, Ethari. That must be the base tenet of this relationship, or we cannot serve Xadia as it requires.”

In true distress, Ethari grabbed his own horns and turned away, pacing erratically, muttering “No, no, no” through his teeth. Then he whirled back to face Runaan. “Please, I promise you, I won’t give you any further cause to doubt me. Let me prove myself. I’ll do anything. Just tell me what you need.”

Runaan stalked closer until they stood nose to nose. “I need you to give your heart to Xadia. Not to me.”

“Done,” Ethari blurted. His gaze clung to Runaan’s face, and he trembled with tension, his fate hanging in the balance.

Runaan’s gaze betrayed him, falling for a single moment from those urgent eyes to his intended’s full lips, before snapping back up. He gritted his teeth, tugged his shirt smooth of Ethari’s recent elfhandling, and added roughly, “And don’t you dare kiss me again. You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Ethari looked down. “I’m sorry. It... won’t happen again.” His voice faded to a whisper like a wounded animal crawling into the shadows to die.

“How am I supposed to go on?” Ethari’s words echoed in Runaan’s mind, and he relented a little. “Wait. This is to be an alliance. I must consider your feelings, however... misguided, if we are to make this work, yes?” Ethari will make a solid ally, at least. I cannot say the same for every craftsman in the Silvergrove. I may never find an easier or stronger connection than this.

Ethari looked up from beneath his downcast brows, curious but not hopeful. “I suppose so,” he allowed uncertainly.

Runaan nodded decisively. “Then I’ll do the kissing, when it’s appropriate. You were right: they will expect it from time to time. Does this meet with your satisfaction?”

Ethari stared at him for a long moment and sighed dully. “I’ll take it.“

Runaan’s brows drew together. He’d expected Ethari to be delighted, grateful, that Runaan had considered his feelings and made allowances. Wasn’t that how these negotiations were supposed to work? Moon help me, I may just be making this worse... is it too late to take it all back and just let him kiss me again? That was... hnnngh...

Runaan opened his mouth to admit he was wrong, but Ethari spoke first.

“My heart for Xadia.” The craftsman offered his hand again, hesitantly.

Runaan studied that open palm again. Holding hands. A decent compromise in itself. He took it softly and nodded.

Together, hand in hand and worlds apart, the betrothed elves made their way through the mists to the Council House. For Xadia.

[the-coda-project]

The Coda Project | 1.02 - Inherit the Flames

After reuniting Tommy Collins with his family, Dean and Sam stop for the night in a town called Rifle.

They’re about two hours out of Blackwater Ridge, at a dumpy motel on the edge of a town called Rifle, and Dean’s been staring at the tree-print wallpaper for so long that he’s started detecting patterns in the branches.

A cheap plug-in air freshener in the bathroom has the whole place reeking of artificial pine. Between that and the walls, Dean’s starting to feel as though the wilderness they just barely managed to escape from has followed them here. Hell, maybe they didn’t escape. Maybe he’s still strung up in the mine; maybe the wendigo is still tossing him around like a ragdoll, scrambling his brains just enough that he’s dreaming of a motel that doesn’t exist.

Outside, an eighteen-wheeler passes on the I-70, close enough to make the windows rattle. Dean shifts in his bed as if a different position is going to be enough to distract him from how badly his ribs ache. His scratched-up neck feels raw as road rash.

No matter how hard he tries, sleep still feels so far out of the realm of possibility that he starts wondering how long he should lie here before he can cut his losses and call it.

But then Sam pipes up—“Hey, can I ask you something?”—from across the room, not bothering to check first if Dean’s awake, and immediately he wants to just keep feigning sleep until morning. He might have sought out his brother’s company only a couple of weeks ago, but right now, with the memory of Sam’s dismissive attitude toward helping the Collins family fresh in his mind, he doesn’t feel much like talking to him.

“Dean.”

He presses his eyes shut, ignoring the part of himself that’s berating him for being childish. Whether he can get to sleep or not, he’s too goddamn exhausted to talk about anything that isn’t life or death.

If he thought there was even a chance that his brother was angling to talk about Jessica, he’d be sitting up and listening in a heartbeat. But his tone is inquisitive, not hesitant, and Sam’s been so closed-lipped about his grief that Dean only knows how much her death is affecting him because of how loud and frequent his nightmares have been.

“Dean,” Sam says again, slightly louder. “I know you’re awake.”

With a huff, Dean tilts his head to squint at him across the gap between their lumpy mattresses. He grimaces as the motion pulls at the claw marks on his neck. He’ll be lucky if they don’t scar, but maybe it’d be better if they do. Maybe it’d help if he could see something visibly fucked up when he looks in the mirror. Maybe that would make it easier to explain away the revulsion he feels when he meets his own eyes.

“Dude, can it wait until after I get a solid four hours?”

Bullheaded as ever, Sam ignores the question, sitting up and tucking his shaggy hair back behind his ears. He looks twelve years old. Dean figures he always will, in some ways.

“Did something happen with Dad? Before he took off, I mean.”

“Like what?”

He’s not sure why he bothers asking Sam to clarify.

Maybe it’s just to buy himself some time; to give himself a second to come up with some version of the truth that doesn’t amount to Dad’s an overbearing, pigheaded prick, just like you’ve always said, and if I didn’t think he was in trouble right now I’d be glad to be rid of him for at least another month.

Even thinking it makes him guilty. Like he’s a bad son for being so angry with the guy. But he’s gotta believe that his actions are the important part here; proof that no matter how much he hates his dad sometimes, he still loves him enough to want to keep this family as connected as he can.

Still, a part of him is wondering if it’s really worth it anymore to keep up the act. If his clinging to John and clinging to Sam is just making things worse for all of them. Making John think he’ll put up with whatever he throws at him. Making Sam think he doesn’t care enough to take his side against John when he’s being unreasonable.

A part of him wonders—but it’s not a big enough part to win. The thought that something might have happened to him keeps him from letting the bile spill.

Because if they can’t find him—or worse, if they do find him but they’re too late—Dean doesn’t want Sam to have more reasons to be angry with a dead man than he’s already got.

It’s not as though Dean’s not used to keeping this shit locked down, anyway. There’ve been other disagreements, other fights, other circumstances over the years that he knows weren’t even close to being fair on him, but that’s just his life. It sucks, but it’s how it’s always been. No use complaining about it if it’s never gonna change, and after living this way for twenty-two of his twenty-six years, he sees no reason to consider change a possibility.

In the grand scheme of things, this particular incident doesn’t even make the top five list of awful things John’s put him through. The honors there go to that time with the shtriga, abandoning him at Sonny’s and then uprooting him as soon as he let himself get comfortable, the hunt he sent him on as a seventeenth birthday “present”, the night he told Sam not to bother coming back if he left for school, and the simple act of raising his kids into this shit in the first place.

This one might make it into the top ten, though. He hasn’t decided yet.

“Well,” Sam says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “You said you hadn’t heard from him in… what, three weeks before you got that message? Seems weird that it was so long, is all. You were on a hunt, he was on a hunt… it’s just weird that you weren’t checking in more often.”

Dean rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling. There’s a water stain on the popcorn tile overhead that almost looks like a cactus if he looks at it the right way.

Christ, he could use some tequila right now. Maybe he can find them a case further south while they wait for some sign of John to turn up. Someplace warmer than the mountains in Colorado. Someplace where he can roll into town, waste a ghost, and then knock back a few drinks on a motel patio without having to talk to anyone at all.

“I mean, you usually check in more than that, right?” Sam goes on, and Dean sighs. He lifts one hand to rub at his brow.

“Yeah, usually.”

“So… what happened?”

“Nothing you gotta worry about,” he says, and immediately knows it was a mistake. Sam zeroes in on what Dean didn’t say just as intently as anyone else would focus on what he did.

Maybe he should go to law school after all—he’s already got the artful-conversational-trap shit down.

“You had a fight.”

“Sam—”

“No, c’mon Dean. You asked me to help you find him. If you had a fight before he left, that seems like it might be relevant.”

“It’s not.”

“So why won’t you just tell me?”

“It was nothing,” he insists. “Dad isn’t exactly Mr Congeniality, Sam. We fight all the time.”

“No, me and Dad fight all the time. The two of you are usually on the same page.”

Dean suppresses a snort and rolls onto his side, his back to Sam now as he looks at the narrow strip of moonlight edging past the thin motel curtains.

“You know I’ll just ask Dad when we find him if you don’t—“

“Jesus, Sam. It was nothing. Just a stupid disagreement about the hunt we were on. You know how he can get.”

“What was the hunt?”

“A witch in Louisiana. We had different ideas about what was going on, but it’s done, the witch is dead, and it doesn’t matter anymore. Okay?”

“That’s all?”

It’s not all.

Thanks to a botched salt-and-burn in Kentucky the previous month, things had already been tense well before they checked into a motel in Souffran, Louisiana. It only got worse when they ran into a woman Dean knew on their second day in town.

She’d been a civilian, last he’d seen her. Said she was a hunter now.

John had been ready to leave as soon as he found out she was already looking into it, but Dean wasn’t so eager.

It wasn’t that he thought Marisa was helpless—far from it, in fact. She’d been teaching capoeira when Dean met her in Texas a few months back. Had the thing terrorizing her students been corporeal, he has no doubt that she never would have needed any help in kicking its ass. But she was inexperienced as a hunter. Green as they come.

Dean didn’t love the idea of her taking on whatever was killing kids in Souffran alone.

When he told John as much, his dad just gave him a sly look, as if he thought the only reason Dean cared was because he was looking to get into Marisa’s pants. Dean wasn’t, for the record. As he saw it, it was his fault that she’d decided to try hunting on for size in the first place. He figured he owed it to her to back her up while she was still so new.

At first, all they’d had to go on was two kids who’d gone missing and turned up dead a week later without any visible injuries beyond a circular burn in the center of their chests; a girl named Lucy Parker who’d disappeared without a trace from her grandmother’s backyard yesterday but was yet to be found; and half a dozen wildly inconsistent reports of strange lights being seen in the swamp running along the north edge of town.

John had been convinced that they were dealing with a fi follet—a kind of malevolent will-‘o-the-wisp known to enact vengeance and drain the blood of children. When Dean disagreed with him, explaining to Marisa that the whole thing felt witchy to him, and pointing out that neither of the kids who’d died had shown any signs of blood loss, John got pigheaded and petty.

He called Dean arrogant. Accused him of acting like John was an idiot ever since they left Kentucky. Spat, “You spend one day showing a civvie the ropes and now you’re an expert, huh? Well go ahead, kid. Handle it on your own.”

And then he bailed.

Left Dean and Marisa to track down a missing eight year old on their own, and made Dean feel about three inches tall when he did it.

It took them almost a full two days to track the thing responsible. A witch, like Dean had thought, who’d been draining the kids of their life force in a desperate, last-ditch effort to stave off some sickness that was eating away at him. But the spell he’d been using was unstable and ineffective, and he’d been haggard and jittery when they found him in a rusty little shack out in the middle of nowhere.

Lucy Parker was right there with him in the room, suspended in mid-air by some unknown force as pale, flickering light leached from the center of her chest and down into a copper bowl on the floor beneath her. Her eyes were wide and rolled back to the whites. Her mouth was open as if she were screaming.

Marisa shot the witch point blank, right between the eyes, and Dean had darted forward to catch Lucy before she could hit the ground. He’d spent the entire time terrified that they were going to get to her too late; that she’d turn up dead before they could figure out where she’d been taken or how to deal with the thing that had taken her.

When she landed in his arms, he’d almost been sick when he felt how cold she was. How limp.

But after a second, she gasped, and coughed, and then she was clinging to him. Shaking.

He couldn’t put her down. She wouldn’t let Marisa take her.

He’d been forced leave the shack while Marisa dealt with the witch’s body and destroyed all the evidence before some local could stumble upon it, and when she’d emerged gray-faced and bloody half an hour later, with the crackle of fire just audible over the steady croak of frogs in the nearby water, he’d known that Marisa wasn’t going on any more hunts.

Lucy still refused to let go of him once they got back to the car, so he’d let Marisa drive them back to town, sitting in the back seat with the kid clinging to his side and sobbing snot into his jacket. He hadn’t even minded. If he didn’t think it would scare her more, he might have let himself cry out of sheer relief at finding her.

Late that night--once Lucy was back with her grandmother, and Marisa was on her way back to San Antonio, and Souffran was far enough in the rearview that it was safe to stop for the night--Dean had called John. He didn’t pick up.

Just sent Dean’s call straight to voicemail, then texted him coordinates for a poltergeist case near Mobile, Alabama an hour later. A few days after that, more coordinates directed him to the voodoo hunt in New Orleans.

So yeah, a witch in Louisiana is not all. Not by a long shot. He doesn’t tell Sam that, though. What would be the point?

“Yeah, that’s all,” he lies, still staring at the gap in the curtains. Another truck rumbles past, air brakes hissing as it slows to take the town exit. It’s so loud that he’s not sure that he’d manage to sleep here even if he wasn’t a headcase. “C’mon, I gotta crash, man.”

For a minute, it seems like Sam’s gonna keep at it. Like he’ll needle at Dean until he spills everything out onto the pilled carpet between them. How scared he is. How angry. How resentful. All the ugliest feelings that seem to be pressing up his throat and onto the back of his tongue like bile.

But he doesn’t. Just sighs, sounding as tired as Dean feels, and says, “Yeah, okay. Night, Dean.”

Dean grunts in reply, and Sam starts snoring after a half hour. Another half hour after that, his nightmares begin. Low, helpless murmurs of Jessica’s name and high-pitched whines of terror that stick in Dean’s chest like buckshot.

With dry eyes and an ever-present lump in his throat, Dean pushes out of bed and heads for the bathroom, taking the laptop as he goes.

If he’s lucky, he’ll find them a hunt before Sam wakes up. He can get them back on the road as soon as the sun rises. Keep them focused on something that isn’t the complete lack of leads on John.

If he’s not, maybe staying up will wear him out enough to sleep tomorrow. He’ll take what he can get.

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[cerastes]

The Abyssal Hunters are very mysterious and undoubtedly sinister. Obviously, both Specter and Skadi want nothing to do with them anymore, given that:

Specter was explicitly on the run, had finally managed to escape confinement, and had to deliver a message to someone (presumably in Rhode Island).

Skadi is also on the run from this group after escaping and refuses to associate with anyone because she knows they’ll be targeted in order to get at her.

Both Specter and Skadi are explicitly monstrously strong: Their Physical Strength scores are Outstanding for Specter and unquantifiable for Skadi, and both of them are referred to being insanely physically powerful in their Files, totting around their heavy weapons with ease and noting that their styles are suited to fighting massive monsters more so than fellow humanoids, which is why they just turn foes into bloodstains with their powerful swings. Most worryingly, it seems to be direct result of experimentation in both cases.

Specter has a high percentage of Cell-Originium Fusion ratio at 14%, a very high number compared to other Infected. It’s not quite as high as the 19% of Amiya and Ifrit, but unlike them, she shows no physical symptoms of Oripathy... Externally, that is. Specter’s cluster of crystal formations is actually inside of her, on her nervous system.

“While Specter showed no physical signs of Originium crystals, her nervous system has suffered a case of severe Infection, the cause behind which remains unknown.” 

It’s a unique case which explains her deteriorating mental state and her very peculiar behavior (more on that later). Intel appears to confirm that Specter was indeed a nun in a convent, but also that it was this very convent that kept her prisoner and experimented with her, which leads me to believe that Abyssal Hunters are either a religious organization or masquerade as one. 

“In actuality, when Specter first approached Rhodes Island, she was articulate and sincere, claiming she had just escaped confinement and wished to deliver a message. However, she fell silent before she could finish conveying it. In her last moments of sanity, she told the Operator who retrieved her that she has once again gotten entangled in a dark conspiracy. After she failed to tear off her habit, she then descended into madness.”

Apparently, she got close to delivering the message she wanted to bequeath, but ultimately didn’t make it before she lost her mind... For what seems to not be the first time. “She told the Operator who retrieved her that she has once again gotten entangled in a dark conspiracy.“  Notice how she says ‘once again’. That’s one thing, but the other two clues that lead me to believe this isn’t the first time she’s gone mad, and that she’s regained her sanity before, are:

As you build up Trust with Specter, you unlock more lines, and these tend to be regressions and lapses of lucidity.

Though she is described to have descended into madness, she is still an Operator in Rhode Island, follows orders, and, despite her cryptic way of speaking, seems to be otherwise very on top of her actions, not causing any trouble or showing any aggression to anyone that isn’t an enemy.

Now, this is just me theorizing, but I think Specter sought Rhode Island out after escaping the convent for the express purpose of going mad in there and not elsewhere, as she knew she’d eventually be able to regain her senses one day and then finish delivering the message and possibly warning them about the Abyssal Hunters in full, to not trust them. I think the ideal scenario for Specter was to actually warn them before going mad, but that didn’t end up happening, so she’s settling for Plan B, the next best thing.

And this takes us to the next point: I think the Abyssal Hunters are trying to mass produce extremely strong soldiers. This is where Skadi comes in. Skadi, unlike Specter, is fully sane, has 0% Cell Originium Fusion ratio, and 0.013 Blood-Originium Density, lower than everyone else, the lowest of all characters by far and possibly in the world. Her profile explicitly states it should be outright impossible to have such little exposure to Originium. Her physical strength is even higher than Specter’s, who is noted to be monstrously unreasonable already, and she apparently is immune to Oripathy. As stated before, she is being actively pursued by a certain group that is likely the Abyssal Hunters, meaning she is a valuable specimen to them... And most likely, their masterpiece. I theorize that Specter was one of the initial trial subjects, or a “lab rat”, if you wish, used to start trying out this process that:

Involves Originium.

Grants an insane level of physical strength.

Makes obedient soldiers.

And that, after mastering this experiment with Specter (and likely others), Skadi was the result of the refined, polished process.

Why those 3 points specifically? Let’s go over them.

“Involves Originium” and “Grants an insane level of physical strength” -> Specter’s Originium numbers are very high, Skadi’s are impossibly low. The process likely utilizes Originium in one way or another to augment the physical strength, not the Arts strength, of the subject. A high Cell-Originium Fusion ratio directly results in powerful Arts strength, which is why Casters tend to be highly Infected (example: Amiya), however, despite how high Specter’s ratio is, higher than most other Casters, her Files state she has zero Arts aptitude.

“Furthermore, Specter lacked both the necessary aptitude and knowledge to wield Originium powers. This is puzzling and greatly impacts her combat ability. Despite her difficulties, Specter was still devastatingly powerful during her missions, to the point of unsettlement. She undoubtedly has incredible room for growth and improvement.”

To put it in other words, Specter should be, in theory, an incredible Caster, yet, not only does she not know how to tap into that power, she also has zero aptitude for it. Instead, she showcases downright unsettling levels of physical strength. The Abyssal Hunters do not want Arts strength, they want physical strength specifically, perhaps because of the nature of their enemies: I theorize that whatever it is that the Abyssal Hunters hunt, they have very high Arts resistance or perhaps even immunity to Arts. Immense physical strength, massive weapons, and a style of combat suited to fighting large monsters instead of humanoids all seem to point towards their usual foes being large, Arts-resistant monsters. Maybe they are not immune or resistant to Arts, maybe the environment in which they are fought makes Arts unwieldy or ineffective (perhaps underwater? We have no information on how Arts function underwater to my knowledge), we need more information here.

“Makes obedient soldiers” -> Specter has a very peculiar behavior in combat.

“Even more important is her polarizing attitudes in combat and in her daily life. She is demure and quiet in battle (other than a few occasional mumbles to herself), with a mindless tendency to follow orders to the end, completely unaware of potential danger and obstacles. Her inability to react has endangered her safety more than once. It can be concluded that Specter is a vital part of the squad, but a commander must also adapt to her single-mindedness and plan accordingly.”

She is not a laughing-mad berserker, she’s not running into the fight screaming louder than the roar of her mechanized circular saw, she stays perfectly silent and mindlessly follows orders to the letter with no regards of what happens to her. This is actually embodied in her Skill 2, “Bone Fracture”: 

“During the skill duration, Specter's HP will not drop below 1; ATK +100%”

While it is active, Specter cannot fall down by any means, period. She’s immortal for the duration, and she also gets a massive attack boost. The “Bone Fracture” of the title doesn’t refer to her breaking her opponent’s bones, it refers to her own fractured bone and how it doesn’t impede her at all. It’s a chilling mindlessness to complete the task at any cost, to fulfill the order no matter what. Thus, I think that’s part of the experiment, too, to be able to make not only immensely strong soldiers, but also soldiers that will faithfully obey any order to the letter, no matter how badly they get hurt.

Finally, I theorize Skadi escaped after she was given the super strength, but before they could actually do things to her mind and nervous system to make her a perfectly submissive soldier.

We’ll learn more as we get more information on the Abyss Hunters and on Skadi and Specter, but for now, I think we can get at least a pretty clear picture of their needs and their methods if we look at, compare and contrast Skadi and Specter.

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter. New? Start from the beginning!

Rise of the Guardians: Earthsong

Ao3

Chapter 3: Mother Nature

As Jack spiraled down from the clear blue sky towards the emerald earth below, he could hear nothing over the tremendous thundering of the water cascading from the cliffside to splash into the massive pool hundreds of feet below. White, frothy foam bubbled at the point of impact, swirling through the crystal clear water like soap. Just feet from the rocky shore of the pool, the forest encroached, towering trees stretching their leafy branches to the sky while ferns and bushes hugged their thick trunks and roots. Broad leaves caught the sunlight wherever possible. He landed beside the water, his bare feet digging into the soft, loamy earth for a brief second before it froze solid beneath his toes. He inhaled the deep forest air, savoring the scent of succulent fruits and flowers mingling with earth and decay, then propped himself up on his staff.

“Now, where would a nature spirit hide around here?” he wondered aloud, swinging his staff as he began poking around the massive waterfall. The water droplets shooting through the air froze into little diamond droplets as they splashed onto his clothes and hair. He left icy footprints where he walked, meandering around the edge of the pool to inspect crevices in rocks and pull up rotting logs, watching as the bugs scattered to find another dank, dark hole. He found plenty of centipedes and spiders and beetles, and dark tunnels, but no sign of the beautiful, golden-haired woman he sought. With an irritated huff, he whirled around and shouted up at the booming waterfall, “Oi! Mother Nature! You out here?” His voice bounced through the small clearing; his only answer was his echo. He stomped over to the rocky moss-coated cliff smothered with stubborn clinging plants to lean up against it with his arms crossed, snorting. “Where are you?”

He took a few minutes to fume silently before he pushed himself away from the wall, unable to think straight with the constant, tremendous drumming of the gushing water. He craned his neck to gaze up at the impressive height of the waterfall until his eyebrows knit together when a sudden thought occurred to him. Could there be something behind the waterfall? All of the Guardians had homes in securely hidden, off-the-wall places, after all; it would not be unreasonable, given the massive size of the cliff from which the waterfall poured, for there to be an expansive cavern hidden behind the streaming water. Thus, Jack swirled his staff and allowed the cold wind to bear him into the air, shooting alongside the endless torrent.

Stray droplets rained down onto him as he peered behind the sheet of foaming water, but all he could discern was the same slick, dark rock. When he was about halfway up, he was beginning to grow discouraged, until the rough surface suddenly vanished. Beyond the water, the wall abruptly caved in into a spacious cave-like opening. Finally! Carefully, using the slippery rock as a foothold, he wormed his way into the thin gap between the hollow and the thundering water. Somehow, he managed to squeeze through without slipping, though his hair and clothes now contained a thin frost from the sheer amount of water that poured onto him. He shook his head, sending snowflakes fluttering in the gloom. Only a little light filtered through the waterfall, white lines dancing across the moss-slicked cave floor; however, the back of the cave was shrouded in deep darkness. Cautiously, he descended into the murkiness, holding his staff aloft as the shadows embraced him.

As he pressed further, the rhythmic drumming of the waterfall was replaced by the fall of his footsteps echoing in the gloom. The air was cold and heavy with moisture, causing his breath to fog up in front of his face. It felt like he shuffled through the dark for an eternity. He soon wondered if it would be a dead end. Then, suddenly, a light glimmered. “Bingo!” he grinned and shot towards it. The ball of light rapidly expanded until it swallowed him, and it was so bright that he had to squeeze his eyes shut and shield his face with a hand lest he be blinded. His lashes repeatedly fluttered for a moment as his eyes gradually adjusted to the glaring light, and as he did so, a fantastic image emerged. “Wooooow!” he breathed as he lowered his arm, his eyes wide with wonder.

The cave led to a gigantic circular cavern hewn into the inside of the cliffs, a hemisphere hundreds of feet in diameter. The stone was not just dark like outside, but carved with rivers of white calcification from the high level of moisture. Stalactites and stalagmites and columns spanned the impressive height, making the room seem like some elaborate throne room. At the peak of the dome, the ceiling had fallen away, leaving a large hole open to the world above. Vines crawled over the edge and clung desperately to the stone ceiling. The light that filled the spacious room originated from this point, as well as a few other holes dotted here and there in the stone ceiling. That wasn't the most impressive thing, though.

Planted in the center of the cavern was the most massive tree that Jack had ever seen in his life. The tree’s trunk was colossal, so large that five of him probably couldn't embrace the entire circumference. Its branches were as thick as the trunks of the trees outside, twisting like corkscrews through the air. They even bent down to crawl along the stone floor. Smaller branches sprouted from the thick main branches, and smaller ones sprung from those, making a dense network. The leaves, about the size of his hand, were rich emerald and shining in the sunlight. Strange, glittering fruits, perfectly spherical and several feet in diameter, nestled within. Jack scampered over to the nearest one, contained within a bend in one of the thick branches, and was amazed to find that they were not fruits at all; rather, they were portals of some kind.

“Amazing!” he breathed as he brought his face close to the portal-like orb, the surface rippling with his breath like a bubble. Within the sphere was an entire world, a beautiful coral reef stretching across blue-grey stone. The corals were dyed red, blue, purple, yellow, green, and every shade in-between, with structures that varied just as much- branches and fans and brains and shapes he couldn’t even describe. The squishy stingers of anemones flowed back and forth in the gentle water current, and Jack was delighted to see little orange-and-white clownfish flitting between them. Other colorful fishes swam in schools across the reef, an eel poked its snake-like head out of a hole, an octopus scuttled across the rocky floor, starfish clung to the rocks and corals- even a sea turtle slowly glided by, like a guardian enduring the peace of its sanctum. Jack's blue eyes shimmered with the light playing through the water, and almost entranced, he found himself reaching out to touch it. His hand did not meet resistance with the barrier, however; it melted through the thin, malleable surface to slip into the water, and he felt the coolness of it spreading across his hand. He pulled it out and was astonished to find that it was not wet, and a grin slowly spread across his face. Without further ado, he shoved his head into the strange ball.

His head emerged from a sizable crevice within the rocks, and his hair floated around him as he turned his head from side to side. His appearance had startled the fish around him, sending them scattering like marbles, but after a few minutes, they grew more curious than afraid and ventured over to inspect the strange boy. He laughed as they nipped at his frosty-white hair and swam in front of his face, and his giggles sent them fleeing once more. After a few more minutes of enjoying the underwater haven, he pulled his head out of the sphere to return to the task at hand.

He walked toward the base of the tree, stepping over the roots that had cracked through the rocky earth and maneuvering through the sprawling branches, all while investigating the strange portal spheres. He saw an African savanna, a dense jungle, an Antarctic tundra, a scorching desert, and several kinds of forests. As he grew closer to the heart of the tree, he began to see more and more species of animals he did not recognize; they were funny-looking and a lot bigger. He jumped back from one, a sphere containing swirling snow and an icy glacier, when he saw a wooly mammoth trudging through the snow. He peered into it, watching in awe as a pack of saber-tooth tigers sprung out from behind some rocks to begin chasing after the sizeable elephant-like creature. “What the-? What is this tree?” he cried and dashed forward, jumping up in the air to follow the spheres further into the dense treetop. He landed on one thick branch next to one orb with an open plain, and his jaw dropped when he saw dinosaurs dashing across the short grass. “Cool! If only Jamie could see this!” he snickered and jumped down. Though he would love to explore the portals, he had a job to do.

As he landed back on the rough, rocky ground and glanced at the thick trunk, he was finally close enough to discover that a multi-room cottage built around the massive tree. It was made of soft, creamy brown wood with cream-colored accents, shutters, and the like. Its roof tiles were a darker shade. Jack could see a warm light blazing within the marbled glass windows, but because of the pattern, he could not see anything inside. Outside was a gazebo of white metal, with crawling ivy with large white flowers in bloom. On that gazebo was a set of two plush, grey chairs and a small gray table. In one of those chairs sat the woman Jack had been trying to find.

She sat with a book in her small hands, and her face turned downward as she read silently. All he could hear was the occasional turn of the page. Jack cautiously crept closer with his staff clutched in his hand; he could only barely see her, and she did not know that he was there; he didn't want to startle her, but in case he did, he certainly did not want to be caught unawares. As he came around to peer into the opening of the awning, his heart stopped in his chest. She was looking at him, staring at him with eyes like pure emeralds, her golden hair shining around her.

“Did you enjoy the Tree of Life?” she asked him. Jack was struck by how beautiful her voice sounded; it matched the rest of her, soft and sweet as North's silver bells. He stood there for a moment, captivated, while a small smile appeared on her pink lips. Then she snapped the book shut, jarring him out of his stupor.

“O-oh. Yes,” he stammered shyly, glancing up at the impressive plant. “The Tree of Life?” he echoed.

“Yes. It is the record of all life since the beginning of time, and I am its keeper,” she explained. “Those portals lead to biomes that are representative of different points in time, both past and present.” Jack bit down on his knuckles slightly as the happiness bubbled up inside of him again, and a pink haze appeared on her cheeks as he hopped into the gazebo to gesture wildly at the tree with his staff.

“So, you have every animal ever here?” When she nodded, he laughed giddily and danced around slightly, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, man, I gotta bring Jamie here! Man, he would love this! Wait, wait, what about mythical creatures? You got those?” he babbled, whirling back on her and causing her to jump.

“Yes, I do,” she smiled and rose from her chair and waved for him to follow her as she stepped out of the gazebo. He scampered after her, avoiding the flowing train of her white dress as she walked out into the grass. He found that she was barefoot as well, and little flowers sprouted where she strode. She walked up to the trunk of the tree and placed her hand on the bark. To his shock, the tree began to move, its branches writhing and shifting positions. One of them dove down to settle itself in front of her. A sphere perched against the wood, and she waved him over. Jack approached the globe and peered inside to see a forest clearing, which contained a shining white unicorn grazing in the grass. His lips parted slightly as he gazed at it in pure wonder, and when he looked at Mother Nature, she was smiling proudly. “Who is Jamie?” she inquired as she touched the tree again, sending it back to its original position, and he smiled bashfully.

“Oh. He’s a little boy I’m friends with… He's real big into mythical creatures, and he would have a ball with this place,” he snickered, leaning on his staff. Now that the initial excitement was over, he finally had the presence of mind to really look at her. “You know, you’re pretty young-looking for someone they call Mother Nature,” he frowned. Honestly, she looked no older than he did. She blushed again and looked away.

“I’m only one in a long line of Mother Natures. I inherited the title four hundred years ago. The Earth appoints us to guide life's progression and record it, and, if necessary, protect it,” she explained. “I am also responsible for the coming of spring, the renewal of life each year.” As she mentioned the season, he suddenly remembered why he was there in the first place.

“Oh! Speaking of, Mot- no, that's weird. I’m calling you something else. Can I call you… Nat? Yeah, I’m calling you Nat. Anyway! You’re in big trouble!” he cried and grabbed her by the shoulder, shaking her a little. Her eyes fluttered rapidly as she struggled to comprehend his stream of chatter until she finally narrowed her eyes at him.

“Trouble? Whatever do you mean?”

“It's Pitch Black! I overheard him hatching a plan to ‘rid the world of its spring,’ and so the other Guardians sent me to come get you so we can keep you safe.” At the mention of the Bogeyman, her expression grew sour, and she pulled herself away from him to march toward her cabin. “Um, where are you going?” he asked as he scurried after her.

“So, Pitch thinks that he can defeat me, does he?” she snorted, ignoring him as she threw the door to the cabin open and stomped inside. He poked his head into the threshold, his eyes following her movement to a fireplace. She plucked an ebony-wood bow from a mount above the hearth, and grabbed a quiver of arrows from a hanging hook. As she whirled around, her golden hair and white dress spun with her. “Well, I think he'll find that I’m quite a bit tougher than I look.” I like her spirit, he thought with a smirk as she haughtily stomped back out of the building, red roses springing up where she walked. Do the flowers change with her moods? He thought with a grin. “To be honest, Nat, I didn't think it would be that easy. Bunny said you were shy. Is that why I’ve never seen you in four hundred years?” he asked casually, and as the words left his mouth, she stiffened. That’s weird.

“… I just don't get out much. I have to keep constant guard over the Tree of Life. It is the lifeblood of the Earth, not just a record. If anything happens to it, then the Earth will freeze in time. Crops will yield little, animals will give less and less meat, and the Dark Ages will return,” she answered, but despite the logic, he could tell that she was withholding something from him. However, before he could inquire, she summoned an orb from the tree again. She leaned forward, whispering into it in an ancient language, then retreated. “You may want to step back,” she warned as he tried to walk closer and inspect it. When he moved to look at her, he cried out when a massive reptilian head shoved its way out of the bubble.

“You have a dragon?” he shouted as the gigantic winged lizard slithered out of the sphere, rapidly growing larger as it exited the portal. It towered nearly as high as the tree itself, its scales as emerald as Nat's eyes. Its thick legs stood on either side of Jack as he craned his neck to gaze up at it in sheer awe, while its tail slithered back and forth over the rocky earth. Its bat-like wings folded against its side, and when its long neck twisted around so it could look at him, golden eyes bored deep into his soul. Its forked tongue flickered out of its maw to lick him, and he wriggled at the strange, tickling sensation. “Hey!” he snickered. The dragon exhaled deeply, blowing white smoke into the air before it looked at Nat.

“This is Salazar. He guards the Tree while I am away,” she smiled as she reached up and stroked the dragon's face. The ground rumbled from the ferocity of its purring, like a gigantic cat. Then, after being caressed for a few moments, it slipped away to curl protectively around the cabin and tree. Jack held a hand out for her, to which she responded with a quizzical look.

“We have to fly to the North Pole.”

“Who said I needed your help to fly?” she smiled wryly, and placed her fingers in her mouth to whistle shrilly. A loud neigh responded, and Jack glanced up as he heard the leaves rustling wildly. From the emerald green burst a white shape, and he grinned elatedly as a pegasus soared around the top of the tree before descending and landing primly in front of Nat. She climbed up onto the beautiful white winged horse, slinging the bow and quiver over her back. The horse tossed its head, flipping its long mane about, before she smirked at him. “After you.”

Jack grinned before flipping his staff and summoning the winds, shooting upwards to soar above the giant tree through the hole in the cave top. He glanced down to see the horse galloping through the air after him, with Nat perched on his back with her golden hair streaming in the wind.

Well, mission accomplished. I wonder what will happen next?

Here’s the next chapter! Want more stories? Check out my Table of Contents!

[megalony]

Let me love you- Part 6

This is another part for my slow-burn Roger Taylor series which I hope everyone is enjoying so far.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @rogahs-drowse

Summary: (Y/n), Brian’s younger sister, finds herself falling for Roger but he has a thing going on with someone he used to date. There is something off about his relationship with his ex and (Y/n) realises it is affecting Roger.

Warning: Descriptions of injuries/ mentions of abuse.

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can I help you, little lady?"

(Y/n) found herself cringing for more reasons than one when her eyes met Roger's in the mirror he was standing in front of.

The drummer said the usually sweet and cheerful pet name in such a snide tone it made (Y/n) feel like he had insulted her or was intentionally being rude to her as if she had done something wrong. Her hands tightened around the door she was partially hiding behind as she tried her best to fight off the tears welling in her eyes.

Last night had been one of the worst nights sleep (Y/n) had had in a long time. She couldn't stop herself from thinking about how she could have handled the situation better. How she could have tried to understand things from Roger's point of view or tried harder to get him to see things from her eyes. She could have tried harder to get him to stay so they could talk rather than leaving things on such a bad note.

But why should it be (Y/n) trying harder?

Roger could have tried to see where she was coming from and understand rather than simply ignoring her view and walking out. Hell, he could even have simply kept his shirt on and stopped her from taking it off so she didn't see the marks. But then again, (Y/n) would want to know he was hurt because she knew there was more to this than he was telling her and she had to know what was happening.

(Y/n) couldn't walk around not knowing if someone was abusing Roger or if the situation was something that needed rectifying or help. Roger would have said if he had been in a fight with someone which he clearly hadn't, who stubbed out more than one cigarette one someone they were fighting?

(Y/n) was about to walk away from the toilets when she realised someone was in there but the moment she saw that it was Roger she found herself hiding by the door. She didn't know if she was simply trying to see if he was alright or if she was checking up on him or simply trying to get closer to him but whatever the reason she was standing in the doorway, he had now seen her. It wasn't as if she was trying very hard to hide from his view anyway.

"I was going to ask you the same thing." (Y/n) feebly pointed to Roger's chest and his eyes lost contact with her own as he dipped his head down to face the sink he was standing in front of.

Roger didn't have a medical box at home, he didn't have anything that would clean the burns on his chest and stop them from getting infected. But he knew there had to be something at the studio and when he found it he brought it to the toilet so he could try and patch himself up without anyone seeing.s But (Y/n) already knew he had the burns so it wasn't as if he had to lie or shield himself away from her.

He arched his back as his hands tightened around the sink as his eyes fell closed. Roger knew she wasn't going to walk away and leave him alone even if he asked.

Seeing that he hadn't told her to leave, (Y/n) braved the anxiety welling up inside her and walked into the room. Quietly closing the door behind her before she advanced over to where the drummer was standing.

"Let me help."

Roger's eyes looked cold and frustrated but he turned so he was facing her nonetheless. He braced one hand on the sink as his eyes followed (Y/n)'s movements that were slow and shakey. (Y/n) grabbed one of the cotton pads from the leaf green emergency medical box before pouring a small amount of antiseptic cleanser onto it.

Her eyes locked with Roger's, a silent message passing between them because they both knew this was going to hurt. Roger tipped his head back as he closed his eyes, breathing through gritted teeth when (Y/n) pressed the cotton pad onto one of the circular burns. Roger had tried to clean them himself but out of pain and instinct, he kept pulling his hand away the moment anything touched the burns. Even the fabric of his shirt was rubbing against them and it caused Roger to scratch at the marks and cause them to bleed.

(Y/n) pressed her free hand against Roger's chest as she pressed the cotton a little harder against his burn to try and make sure it was clean.

Folding the cotton pad, (Y/n) put more antisceptic onto it before moving to the next burn. Grinding her teeth as Roger's chest turned and his skin twitched and writhed to try and get away from her touch although he did a good job at staying relatively still and not backing away from her.

"Fuck!" Roger hissed, his hand quickly latching around (Y/n)'s wrist to stop her as his head tipped down so his eyes could lock with her own. He bit down on his lip as (Y/n) looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her head tilted up to look at him as she held her breath for a moment too long.

"T-there's ash in the wound." (Y/n) couldn't find the ability to speak properly, only whisper as she stayed frozen until Roger gently released her wrist, allowing her to carry on. She didn't mean to hurt him but if the ash was left in the wound it could go septic or get infected. A groan bounced against Roger's throat and tightly pressed lips as (Y/n) rubbed the cotton into the wound before pulling back when she got the ash out.

She winced at seeing the blood now beginning to lightly trickle from the wound and spot onto his chest.

When all four wounds were wiped clean, (Y/n) applied some cream to each one before placing a circular plaster over each one to stop anything from getting in the wounds or irritating them.

"Why can't you tell me what happened?" (Y/n) spoke quietly as she started to put everything back in the box and throw the used cotton pads into the bin next to the sink. She avoided eye contact with Roger for as long as possible before finally daring to look at him. He looked a mix between angry and given up and it made her heart break into a million pieces.

He didn't deserve any of this, whether someone had just decided to mess with him or pick on him and so they did this or whether someone was actually abusing him. Whatever it was, Roger deserved so much better.

"Why can't you let it go?" Roger controlled his tone and the pitch of his voice as he grabbed the shirt he had slung over the edge of the sink. He grimaced as he slipped his arms into it and slowly started to do up the buttons, being careful of his freshly cleaned wounds. (Y/n) had seen his chest, it was clear that he had only gotten four marks and had none since yesterday and there was nothing else wrong with him. He wanted to forget it and he wanted (Y/n) to do the same.

Roger's eyes widened when (Y/n) three the closed green box into the sink out of anger. She raked one hand through her hair as she tried to calm herself down but it wasn't working very well. Roger couldn't just pass this off as nothing and he was grating on her nerves by deflecting this.

"Because someone's hurt you and you don't give a shit, that's why! Who goes around stubbing cigarettes out on people, that's not normal Rog and it isn't normal to just accept it either. Unless you have some kind of pain fetish then I'm not convinced this is nothing." Burning people with cigarette buds was something that an abuser or a very disturbed person would do for fun or to force someone into submission or make them feel worthless and hurt. It was something (Y/n) could only think that someone would do if they enjoyed seeing people in pain and causing them hurt.

To see that Roger was the victim of this concerned and worried her because she didn't know if this was someone just messing with Roger or someone trying to abuse him or make him feel worthless or in pain. Whatever it was it wasn't fair and she wanted it to stop.

"I did it okay, no one did this to me (Y/n) I-"

"If you're going to lie to me at least come up with a reasonable one." (Y/n) snapped, feeling like there was an elastic band within her that had just broken. Roger could at least have the decency and respect not to lie to her, but if he felt he had to then he should come up with something that was believable rather than that.

They both knew his words were bullshit, even his expression showed he wasn't trying very hard to convince her or to come up with something that she would accept or believe.

"Roger, is someone hurting you?" (Y/n) tried to calm down but keep her words serious to show him he couldn't laugh this off or act like she was being unreasonable with her question. It was a yes or no question and (Y/n) needed to know the truthful answer.

"No. No one has been hurting me, I promise you that is not the case, okay? The other night I went out with a few friends and I got high..." Roger trailed off as he shrugged his shoulders. No one was abusing him and (Y/n) knew by the calm tone he was using that he was being truthful, or at least he believed his own words.

His eyes narrowed at the look on (Y/n)'s face that looked like she had just had an epiphany or a sudden realisation had hit her but whatever it was she thought of was clearly nothing good. (Y/n) felt her chest tightening as she lightly shook her head, feeling tears welling behind her eyes as sorrow filled her heart. Now she knew why Roger wasn't telling her how he got those burns or who had done it. She knew why he wasn't coming up with some elaboration of what had happened or some convincing lie to calm her down.

"You don't know what happened." The pain and sorrow in her voice made Roger feel like someone had pierced his heart as he felt his chest constricting.

He didn't know who had done that to him or how it had happened because he had gotten high and the night had soon become a simple blur of images and thoughts that made no sense to him when he woke up in the morning. When he found those marks he simply presumed the night had taken a different turn and things had escalated. He didn't believe someone had abused him or was trying to hurt him, he simply believed things got out of hand somehow.

Roger had been to a few wild parties in his time.

"Why doesn't that scare you? You don't know who did that to you and you have no idea why they hurt you like that-"

"I woke up in my flat in bed so one of my mates clearly managed to get me home. That tells me no bad shit happened because I didn't go to hospital or have someone stay with me and no one rang me the next day to tell me about a fight I'd been in. No one else knows about them or has said anything so whatever happened wasn't some kind of attack. I don't know and right now I don't care so leave it alone (Y/n). I'm serious."

Roger hadn't been taken to hospital or to a friend's house and no one had stayed the night with him. That told him they simply put him in a cab and either got him inside his flat or he walked in himself so he clearly hadn't been distressed or screaming or crying in pain or fear. No one had attacked him if he managed to get home safe and okay and no one he went out with said anything about him getting hurt or about the burns so Roger didn't care.

He got them but he wasn't distressed or traumatised or afraid so he didn't see any reason to cry or worry about the marks. He just wanted them to heal so he could forget about them and he was done discussing this with (Y/n).

"Thank you for helping me."

Roger didn't wait for (Y/n) to say anything before he walked past her, resting his hand on her shoulder for a second or two to show her he was grateful for the help before he left her standing in shock.

(Y/n) couldn't help but worry. Whoever Roger had gone out with and had gotten high with had clearly gotten him back home again but that didn't mean they didn't know. Surely being on drugs didn't necessarily take away his sense of pain or stop them from noticing the marks that must have bled even a little. Someone must have seen Roger was in pain or had gotten hurt somehow and that made (Y/n) wonder if it was one of Roger's friends he went out with that had hurt him.

But if it was one of his friends, then by dismissing this, Roger was going to put himself in a sense of danger if he saw them again.

[stella-maria7]

THE UNTAMED FAN FIC: THE TANGLED HEART

Chapter 11: FOR YOU, I WOULD

“It won't work. His spiritual power is too strong. Even if he is not using it right now, its power is still beyond our reach.”

In a pitched black colossal room, a big heptagon with a human-sized circle in the center were drawn on the damp ground. Judging from the color and smell, these geometric dimensional shapes were created using human’s blood.

A figure was on one’s knees inside the 7-edges shapes and was arranging a few things in the circle. Once the things were properly lay, the figure stood up with the right hand lifted up in the air and the wrist moved in a circular motion. The dark room suddenly got illuminated by a fire effusing through the splayed fingers. Then, the wrist flicked the fire off its finger into the circle’s perimeter. The belongings that were laid down there caught up in flames. During the process, the formation glowed red light just faintly before it fused, leaving the room pitch-blacked once again.

The same voice reverberated throughout the dark a second time. “I’ve told you. He was too strong. It won’t work this way.”

“Damn it! Why?! Despite the same dominant's blood running through our veins, why does he have to be better than me in everything? I won’t accept this.” The figure stood in the heptagon clenched the fists so tight that nails started to dig into the flesh, causing blood to trickle down the closed palm. “Since this way doesn’t work, I will need to use another way.”

"How?"

"If he is too strong as a whole, then I'll just have to break him into pieces." 

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

When the three Lans and Wei Wuxian mounted off their swords in front of Lotus Pier, Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng were already there waiting for them at the entrance. Jin Ling was standing with his arms behind his back looking serious whereas Jiang Cheng stood beside him with his arm folded along with an expression that said I-am-so-wanting-to-kill-somebody.

Since Sizhui couldn’t use his spiritual energy, he had to ride with Jingyi. Given Jingyi’s limited cultivation level combined with the weighting of two people on the sword, they arrived a bit later than their seniors. So when Sizhui got off, he already saw Wei Wuxian was bear-hugging both Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng tightly despite the struggles of the two hosts.

“Urgh…stop hugging every people you meet.” Jin Ling complained when he was fortunate enough to fight his way out of the hug.

“Jin Ling, I don’t just hug anyone. I only hug those I want.” Wei Wuxian pouted at his nephew.

“Which is almost every single living things you encounter.” Jiang Cheng pushed his brother away, his expression turned even grimmer.

“Oh my dear Jiang Cheng. Why do you always have such a scary expression on your face? No wonder you still can’t find yourself a wife.” Wei Wuxian teased his brother and put on an exaggerated sad face.

“You!”

Zidian was emitting purple sparks. Before Jiang Cheng unleashed it into a full form of a whip, Wei Wuxain had already run to hide behind Lan Wangji.

The tension in the air was relieved when Sizhui walked in and gave his greetings towards the hosts. “Greeting Sect leader Jiang. Greeting Sect leader Jin.” He smiled at Jin Ling when addressing him only to get back a diverted gaze in return. Did Jin Ling just avoid my eye contact? Sizhui thought. Still, it was more than suffice for Sizhui to be able to personally confirmed that Jin Ling was safe and sound.

When Zidian was no longer acting up, Wei Wuxian peeked from behind his husband’s back. “By the way Jiang Cheng, how could you kill that man? I mean, not that he doesn’t deserve to die but at least you should have given us a chance to ask him a few questions.”

“Who said I killed him?” Jiang Cheng chided.

“Well, your reputation proceeds you, you know.” Wei Wuxian muttered which caused Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows twitched in anger.

"I didn't kill him." Jiang Cheng said.

“Well, if you didn't kill him, then how did he die? Did his people come to assassinate him to prevent information leakage?”

“No.” Taken everyone by surprise, Jin Ling spoke up in an orotund voice. “I killed him.” 

                                                ***

After all of them went to the dungeon to see the corpse and let both Sizhui and Jingyi confirmed the bulky man’s identity that he really was their attacker, the older generations went to the guest hall of Lotus Pier to have a discussion while the younger trio went to the pond to wait.

Inside the guest hall, the servants were bringing in snacks and teas for the three seniors. When a servant girl was placing a tea set in front of Wei Wuxian, he naughtily asked, “Hi beauty, do you have wine?”

The girl was bashful to speak when looking at Wei Wuxian’s flirty face. The act earned a clear-throat sound from Lan Wangji and a growl from Jiang Cheng. “Just ignore him and go back to your chores.” He told his servant. The girl did her curtsy and hurried out of the room with her entire face still red.

“Anyway, Jiang Cheng. Why did Jin Ling killed that man? I mean I know his temper but still, it was so unlike him to just kill the guy like that.” Wei Wuxian turned business mode.

“How do you expect me to know when that brat hasn’t told me anything yet? I am not a psychic you know.” Jiang Cheng replied with a gruff.

Like uncle, like nephew. Wei Wuxian’s mind talk to himself when he thought about Jin Ling’s and Jiang Cheng’s temper.

“Then while he was alive in your possession, did you get anything out from him?”

“No. He was unconscious the whole time until this morning.”

“He must have said something that pisses Jin Ling off badly to meet his end so soon then.”

There was a brief silence before Jiang Cheng spoke up. “That guy mentioned something about your son.”

“What? Sizhui?” Wei Wuxian was alarmed and turned to look at Lan Wangji, who changed nothing in either expression or posture. But Wei Wuxian knew his husband well enough from the look of his eyes that he too was appalling. “Well, what did he say then?” he turned to look back to his brother.

“I’d told you I didn’t know. Jin Ling asked me to let him talk alone with the man. So, I left. Then, when he came out of the dungeon, he just said that he had killed the man. What a preposterous brat. And here I’ve thought he is improving now that he becomes a Sect leader.” Jiang Cheng was livid when thinking about the situation back then.

Wei Wuxian was afraid that once Jiang Cheng was done with his anger, he would start to ask about SIzhui so he got up and grabbed Lan Zhan. “We have something urgent to take care of Jiang Cheng. See you later.” Wei Wuxian shouted his goodbye while walking out the guest hall without bothering to even look back.

Jiang Cheng was left fuming at his two blood-related people's unreasonable behaviors today.

Wei Wuxian asked his husband when they had walked passed the crowded place into quiet section in Lotus Pier. “Lan Zhan, can you play your qin to do the Inquiry? I want to know what that jackass has said about Sizhui.”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “I can’t, Wei Ying.”

“Why?”

“Jin Ling didn’t just kill him. He destroyed the soul as well.”

                                             ***

Along the way to the pond, Sizhui couldn’t help but felt that Jin Ling seemed to keep avoiding his eye contact. Even during their conversation, he would look anywhere: Sizhui’s feet, robes, hands. Except the eyes. Though he replied Sizhui’s questions and talked normally in his usual tone, Sizhui couldn’t wave off the feeling that something was off.

Jingyi, of course, noticed none of these details. He was being his talkative self, pulling pranks and making jokes. He claimed that today was the happiest day of all because first, he defeated the giant beast and earned a praise from Hanguang-Jun. Second, the man that attacked them was dead so Sizhui was no longer in danger. He kept on blabbering things the entire way. Only when they reached the pond full of lotuses did he stopped talking. 

“Wow. It is beautiful." Jingyi stared at the pond with his mouth opened in amazement. They had been to Lotus Pier a few times but today the pond was full of blooming flowers. A sight that he had never seen just yet.

"Yes, it does." Sizhui was also captivated by the beautiful sight.

"Oh, I’ve heard from Senior Wei that lotus seeds in Lotus Pier are the best.” Jingyi said.

“Of course it is. It belonged to my uncle and my mother after all.” Jin Ling said proudly.

“Sizhui, do you want to try some? Senior Wei also said the freshly picked are the best of the bests.” Jingyi took off his outer robes and boots before proceeding to roll his sleeves up.

“W-What are you doing?” Jin Ling asked in astonishment when he saw Jingyi stripping.

“What do you think I am doing? Taking off my clothes of course. Do you expect me to go into the pond fully clothed?” Jingyi rolled his eyes.

Jin Ling turned his red face away.

“Jingyi, you’re not thinking of picking those lotus seeds right now, are you?” Sizhui asked.

“That’s right, Sizhui.”

“But this pond belongs to Sect Leader Jiang. You have to get his permission first or else we are breaking our Lan’s rule.”

“Rest assure Sizhui. I already got permission from Senior Wei. He also belongs to The Jiang Sect, remember?” Jingyi winked and went down to the pond. “Ow. So cold.” He murmured complain yet kept on going.

Shrugging, Sizhui turned to look at Jin Ling only to see that Jin Ling was already staring at him. But again, he quickly looked away when Sizhui’s eyes were on him. He could no longer stand this. He must find out the reason behind Jin Ling’s odd behavior.

“Sect leader Jin” Sizhui finally broke the silence. He sensed the other party’s body stiffen.

“Yeah?” a faint reply came out from Jin Ling’s mouth yet he still refused to turn his way.

“Did I do anything to offend you?” Sizhui asked.

“What make you think that?”

“Well, because you have been avoiding my eyes this whole time. So I thought you are angry with me.”

“If I were, I wouldn’t have had talked to you.” 

“Then, can you tell me why you don’t look at me when we are having a conversation right now?”

Clicking his tongue, Jin Ling said. “You Lans people are so persistent. Do you really have to get an answer to every question?”

Sizhui felt a pinch in his chest. Why did it feel so painful upon hearing those words? This was a pain he had never experienced before. Sizhui went silent as he was analyzing the foreign illness that was infiltrating his heart.

When Jin Ling no longer heard Sizhui’s voice, he thought the boy wasn’t feeling assured, so he repeated again. “I really am not mad at you.”

It still didn’t put his heart at ease even with this second confirmation because Jin Ling was still looking away. He couldn’t see the expression on Jin Ling’s face at all so he had no idea if Jin Ling was telling the truth. But he accepted it anyway because at the very least, those words came from Jin Ling’s own mouth. Knowing that no one was able to see, he still put up a weak smile and said “It’s good that you are not mad then.”

Jin Ling took a deep breath. “Now that I have given answer to your question, can you also help with mine?”

“What is it that you want to know?”

“It’s about the man who attacked you.” Sizhui held his breath and waited for Jin Ling to continue. “Have you known each other before?”

Sizhui felt his hands trembling. Did he know? And this was why he had been acting strange? Sizhui thought to himself as he tried to hide his shaking hands under his sleeves and maintained his smile. “I don’t know him but I can’t say the same vice versa. His words and actions seemed to show that he has known me.”

“I see. Then…” For the first time today, Jin Ling turned to stare into Sizhui’s eyes without blinking. “Lan Sizhui, is there something else you wish to tell me?”

Sizhui’s weak smile faltered. He somehow got a glimpse of what Jin Ling was referring to. But the question still remained. Was he ready to tell?

[do-your-socks-have-holes-in-them]

Til the End of the Night / Ch10: In which the forest’s trials begin (*insert ominous music here*)

Previous / Masterpost / Next 

Summary:  Patton makes some friends. Logan makes complicated arcane machines. Virgil makes a misstep.

Warnings:  fear/paranoia, injury, harm to an animal (but it's okay), vague body horror?, mentions of death, and some pretty intense danger

A/N: oh a cliffhanger? :D

AO3

Logan was on his fifth “room,” and beginning to wonder just how big this semi-artificial cave system was.  The puzzles were getting more complex, but all had to do with drawing magical symbols on things.  He was beginning to recognize some of them: this one allowed a machine to draw on a nearby source of magic, this one could teleport an object from one position to another, this one made something translucent so light could pass through it, this one created light like a more powerful version of his glow-bottle.  All required magical energy to function.  He moved from chamber to chamber, forming arcane circuits and manipulating physics. This was the most he’d enjoyed himself since entering the Imagination.  There were only two things dampening his mood: the fact that everything was still magic, and his concern for how Virgil and Patton were getting on without him.

Hopefully, they were still in the clearing, and would have the sense to wait for him there.  He didn’t have much faith in their common sense when left to their own devices, though, especially Patton.  He would just have to get through the rest of this as quickly as possible so he could find them before they got into too much trouble.

Patton felt much better now that he was making progress. He’d been following his little path for a while now, and it had yet to lead him to a dead end.  And this part of the forest was so much nicer than where they’d all been before!  Sure, it was a little foggy beyond the edges of the sunlit trail, and a tad quieter than he would have expected, but otherwise it was a beautiful day.  He wished his friends were with him to see it, too, but he wouldn’t dwell on that, they would find each other soon enough. Besides, although he knew it wasn’t the same, he seemed to be making more friends out of just about everything around here.  At the moment, for example, there was a small hot-pink bird with tiny antlers perched on his shoulder, tugging on his hair as if trying to eat it, which kind of hurt, but it was just so cute he wasn’t going to complain, and some kind of fluffy, soft-looking pastel blue rodent at his feet which wouldn’t let Patton pick it up, but seemed happy to run along next to him and keep him company.

He came to a fork in the path and stopped, rubbing his chin and making a thoughtful pout.  “Hmm… Well, either way will probably get me out of here eventually… but I still want to get out as soon as possible so I can find my friends!  What do you think, Mr. Fluffles?”

The animal blinked at him, and seemed slightly affronted by the nickname.  Still, it looked between the options and then darted over to one of the two branches, looking up at him expectantly.

“Aw, thank you!”

He headed in that direction, confident that his small, furry guide knew what it was talking about.  It seemed almost impatient now, darting around his legs as if to urge him forward, and he laughed and tried not to trip over it.  The further he walked, the more magical his surroundings became: giant dandelions nearly as tall as he was and mushrooms large enough to sit on, interspersed with bushes covered in brightly colored fruit.  On impulse, Patton grabbed a bright yellow berry and popped it in his mouth.  It tasted like lemonade, the flavor of the fruit without its sourness, but the next one he tried was closer to a mango.  Maybe they were all different?  He gathered a few handfuls and filled his cloak’s inner pockets with various colors to snack on as he walked.  A voice in the back of his head told him he wouldn’t have been able to do that with Virgil with him, who would have swatted his hands away in case they were poisonous, but he squashed it down- he’d rather have his friends than some berries any day.  He offered one to the bird and kept walking.

Roman smiled a little, then sighed with an unreadable mix of emotions, stepping back from his mirror and dispelling the image once again. He was really starting to wish he’d given it split-screen capabilities.  It was bad enough that his friends were separated and he had no idea what had happened- that would teach him to listen when Logan told him to go to bed- but the fact that he couldn’t watch them all at once was even worse, because what if something important were to happen when he wasn’t looking?  He would hate to miss one of them finally doing something really cool, or… well, he’d rather not follow the other possible train of thought there, for fear of turning into Virgil.  That wouldn’t do at all.  One of him was quite enough.

He paused for a long moment, listening carefully to make sure the witch wasn’t going to walk in on him, which also wouldn’t do.  He hadn’t seen her so far today- she was probably busy enjoying her stupid new castle- but it couldn’t hurt to make sure.  Speaking of Virgil, he was the one Roman was most concerned about.  Patton didn’t appear to have found any trouble at all, thank goodness, and Logan looked like he was actually having a good time for once now that he’d somehow managed to turn perfectly good magic into a bunch of nerd stuff, but Virgil had been exceptionally tense last time Roman tuned in to him, and was probably having his worst time since coming here.  Roman had a surprising amount of sympathy for him: the anxious side clearly thought himself responsible for the safety of the other two, just as Roman felt responsible for putting them in this situation at all, only he didn’t even have any way of knowing they weren’t currently in terrible danger without him. He reached for the mirror to check on him again, and hoped he hadn’t worried himself into shutting down.

Virgil was scanning the forest around him for danger so rapidly he wasn’t sure any of what he saw was actually registering in his brain. It had gotten a little easier to move forward once he resigned himself to the one path he was apparently meant to take, but he was also getting tired after pushing through thick brush for such a long time without finding anything of interest, and almost wished something would happen just to break the painful tension of waiting.  Key word: almost.  He may not have been Roman, but he was genre-savvy enough not to tempt fate like that. At the sudden sound of something disturbing the bushes nearby, he came this close to screaming and/or throwing his knife at it before he caught a glimpse of red-brown fur near the ground.  Just a squirrel or something.  He stood still for a moment to recover from that near-heart attack, rubbing a hand over his face and taking some deep breaths as he reminded himself what he needed to do: stay calm, find the others, get out of here.  The forest didn’t seem to like him stopping, and thorns pricked at the back of his legs through his clothes, reminding him to keep moving.  He exhaled harshly.  He was this close to cursing out the entire Imagination.

It was arguably fortunate, then, that he didn’t have to struggle through much longer before he stumbled out into a clearing.  His shadows swirled around him as he stopped and looked around suspiciously at the almost perfectly circular space enclosed by a solid mass of thorns, and he took a bit of comfort from the reminder that he could protect himself if he had to.  With a suspicious glance at the not-quite-there movement in the darkness of the forest around him, he slowly stepped into the middle of the clearing, as far as possible from the threatening shapes either glimpsed or imagined. There must be a way out, to continue whatever path he was being herded along- he tried to remember which way he’d come from as the thorns rapidly closed up the gap behind him.  Knowing this place, though, and its apparent hatred for him, it would probably screw him over as much as possible before letting him go.

“Shut up, shut up,” he whispered to himself with a quick shake of his head, trying to rein his mind in before it could, quite literally, give the Imagination any more ideas.  He was just going to make it worse thinking like that.  There was probably just something he was missing, right? Like a patch where it wasn’t quite as thick and he could push through, or a- a secret trapdoor, or…

Something was in the trees.

He would’ve tried to convince himself it was just a shadow, but there was no way, because shadows didn’t make terrifying breathing noises and crush the foliage around them as they moved.  He felt almost vindicated, but also, y’know, terrified.  He turned in a slow, careful circle, tracking it as it passed.  It… didn’t look like it had noticed him.  The thing was bigger than any animal he’d ever seen, nearly three times his height, and it wasn’t shaped like anything familiar, either.  Not that he could make it out very well.  He did his best to keep from speculating.

Virgil waited, holding his breath, as the massive creature made its slow, destructive way past the clearing he was in.  He finally allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief once it seemed to be gone.  Maybe that was this place’s way of showing him how to keep going?  He might be able to reach the path it had left if he pushed through the remaining layer of thornbushes, and then he could easily get to wherever it had come from, assuming nothing else went wrong.  Which was not an assumption Virgil generally made. Still, the alternative was staying in the clearing forever.  He took a small step towards the edge of the trees.

And stepped on a stick that hadn’t been there before. Which broke with an unreasonably loud crack.

The next sound Virgil heard was the deafening atonal screech of that thing, and he barely threw himself out of the way in time as it charged at him.  Apparently it was not only the size of a small house, but also really fast when it wanted to be… and if the glimpse of it he managed to get could be trusted, it had more than should be allowed of both limbs and teeth. Nope nope nope.  He rolled when he hit the ground and made a break for the newly created opening the instant he was upright again.  His magic was gathered even more thickly around his limbs now, but he didn’t have time to spare it a thought at the moment as long as it didn’t slow him down.  He was a little too busy running for his life.

Logan was fairly certain he was getting close to the end. Or, at least, he wasn’t sure how much further things were capable of escalating from here…  There were far too many symbols in play to reliably keep track of in his head, so he was glad he’d been writing them down as he figured out what they were for.  He started the veritable Rube Goldberg machine of magic he’d just finished setting up and watched everything work precisely as intended, finally opening a door in the wall larger than any of the previous ones.  He walked through and found himself in darkness- evidently, the torch he’d been carrying from room to room wouldn’t be enough to light this particular space.  That was no problem, however, once he saw a place for one of his spheres on the opposite side of the door from the torch bracket, marked with what he now knew to be the rune for light.  Once activated, a bright glow spread in all directions along a series of “wires,” and Logan gasped.

This had to be the final puzzle.  The room was absolutely massive, and a good third of the stone mechanisms that filled it were already moving- timing would be essential here.  It looked like the fantasy version of a particularly difficult Portal level, honestly.  The ceiling was so high it was hard to tell what was up there, but one thing he could make out was a door.  Evidently, he was supposed to get himself up there somehow.  He readjusted the strap of his bag to make it more secure and looked up with a half-smile, already working out the relationships between the different parts.

“Finally, a real challenge.”

Patton was starting to get a little teensy bit tired of walking when he turned a corner and stopped in his tracks.  Just a few feet in front of him, not quite hidden in the brush by the path, was a red fox. When it saw him standing there, it looked up and whined.  Patton approached it carefully and crouched down.

“Hey there, little guy… oh no, what happened to you?” Now that he was closer, he could see why the fox wasn’t running away, even though it didn’t seem as trusting as the other animals he’d been meeting: one of its legs was hurt.  He tried to get a better look, but it got nervous and limped a bit further into the bushes.  “I’m not gonna hurt ya, I just want to help,” he soothed.  The fox looked wary, but stopped backing away, almost as if it understood what he was saying.  “That’s it… will you let me see?”

It remained still as he moved closer again.  After a moment’s hesitation, it sat down awkwardly, holding the injured leg so he could see it.  The poor little fox seemed to have gotten on the wrong side of an especially thorny plant.  Patton put his hand out slowly.  The fox regarded it uncertainly and sniffed at him, then nudged its head into his palm like a cat, seeming to accept him.  (Between Patton’s limited knowledge of wild animals and the weirdness of the rest of the forest, he saw nothing strange about this.)  “Aww,” he squealed as quietly as he could manage.  “You’re so soft and pretty, yes, you are!”  He petted the fox’s head and ears, and while it was distracted, reached for the injury with his free hand.

The fox startled at his touch, and even more at the realization that its leg no longer hurt.  Patton pulled back and smiled at it, wincing a little when his weight shifted. “There, isn’t that better?  I told you I would help!”  The fox took a step forward and licked his hand, then darted away into the forest.  He watched it go and gave himself a minute to just sit on the ground before getting up. He’d been walking for a while, after all…  Hopefully there wasn’t too much further to go.

Virgil had no way of knowing it, of course, but he looked really cool right now.  Like an action movie hero… or possibly the protagonist of Temple Run.  It wasn’t nearly as much fun to experience in real life.  His lungs were on fire, as was every muscle in his body. He couldn’t keep going like this much longer.  He could barely stay ahead of the thing chasing him, and the branches smacking him in the face and nearly tripping him as he ran weren’t helping.  He vaulted over a large rock without slowing down and risked a glance over his shoulder.

It was a mistake.  The creature was right on his heels, lunging at him, one wrong step away from tearing him to pieces.  A new burst of panic-fueled energy coursed through his limbs at the sight.  He turned back to the path ahead, pushing himself even faster-- only to skid to a stop and whirl around again when that path ended suddenly in a sheer drop.  He looked around frantically for another way out, but there was nothing.  Even the way he’d just come was closing up at an impossible rate.  He was trapped.  Just the monster in front of him, the forest far, far below him, and Virgil trembling with exhaustion and adrenaline at the edge of a cliff.  

Time slowed down.  In the half-second remaining before, presumably, his very unpleasant demise, he tried to shield his face with his arms… and found himself staring at his hands, or at least, the area where he knew they should be.  They were barely visible, actually- difficult to make out through the dense cloud of his magic that obscured them.  There was no time to think about the spark of an idea that gave him; he just acted.  With death quite literally looking him in the face, now mere inches away, Virgil dropped into a defensive crouch with his eyes shut tight, felt a surge of magic wrap around his body, then turned and threw himself off the cliff.

[my-hero-aaron]

Provisional Licenses, Part 2

After a bit of fumbling and fiddling to get the weird archive I had found to actually play on K’s tv, I finally got to snuggle in next to K. She’d set up a little pile of blankets, pillows, and assorted fluffy whatnots on the floor while I struggled with the wonders of modern technology. Thankfully, everything seemed to be running smoothly as I nuzzled into K’s back, my chin gently perching on her shoulder, an arm comfortably slipping around her waist. A small whistle started to emanate from the speakers of the television, while a father and son wandered toward the camera, fishing poles in hand. The theme, thankfully, was short and sweet, and the show pretty much immediately launched into its plot. The dad from the opening, who turned out to be the sheriff in town, welcomed a travelling salesman into his home after he’d gotten stranded in town because of car trouble. Sure, it wasn’t exactly thrilling action or anything, but the show was just endearing enough to hold my attention. At the end of the episode, I finally zoned back into the world around me, only to find that not only was one of my hands noticeably stuck in K’s hair from my absent minded fiddling, but also that K had laced her legs into mine, surprisingly comfortably.

“Well... I’d get up and change the show, but I’m comfy. You down for one more episode, see how things shape up?” I queried my girlfriend, kissing her cheek gently.

“I think I can handle one more. This show… isn’t really my speed. It doesn’t really hold my attention very well.” She smiled apologetically

“That’s fair, I’m not... entirely sure why I like it, but there’s just something going on that won’t let me stop watching.” As I was responding, the next episode rolled, the theme once again filling the room. This time around, the sheriff’s kid was having trouble with history class, but after some clever set up to make it sound like an adventure story, the kid (and all his pals, to boot) were major history buffs. Cheesy, but definitely enjoyable.

“Okay, that’s one more. Your turn to pick, hon.”

As K untangled herself from me to get up, she pressed a small kiss into my cheek. I could feel the heat brush across my face, and I must have zoned out a bit, because the next thing I knew, she’d booted up an episode of Star Trek... or was it The Next Generation? I could never keep them straight. Regardless, I smiled slightly, patting the space K had vacated.

“C’mere, einstein, I’m getting cold.”

“Oh, you, cold? Who would have thought it, popsicle?” Kailey quipped as she slipped into my embrace.

I had to admit, K had good taste when it came to movies and tv. The episode immediately caught my attention, it was a bit of a high concept piece this time around. The ship’s android, Data, was tied up in a legal battle over whether he should receive rights as a sentient being. It was a real brain tickler of a question to be posed, to put it lightly, and even despite just how comfy I was getting with my girlfriend, I could practically feel the gears whirring in my brain as I considered the little bits and pieces of the conundrum posed by the show.

The next thing I knew, K was shaking me awake, and the credits were rolling on a favorite movie of hers, Coraline.

“Hey, Aaron, wake up sleepy head. You were kinda snoozing there. Maybe you should head back to your dorm now?”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea, K. Last thing we need is Vlad finding me asleep in your dorm, after all.” I let out a small yawn, stretching while I got up, and gave my girlfriend a little peck on the cheek. “See ya tomorrow, K. I love you!”

With that, I padded out of the room, trying my best not to make a huge racket while I left, and conked out for the night.

Soon enough, the little bit of time we had to actually design our special moves had run out, and the day of the provisional hero license exam had come up on us. After we’d filed out of the bus they’d crammed us into, it was clear that we were going to have an absolutely absurd amount of competition when it came to whatever they were planning to have us do. A little bit of shuffling and bumping into people later, Kailey, Oliver, and I had found ourselves, along with what seemed like several thousand other students. Thankfully, we were getting at least some personal space, since nobody wanted to get too far into the bubble of cold my chest plate was putting out. After a few moments, the din of chatter that was filling the room tapered off, an incredibly exhausted-looking man taking his place at the podium.

“Given the massive volume of applicants this year, we’re going to have to make this explanation quick. The long and short of the test is, you have three targets to place on your body. They have to be visible, no hiding them. You’re removed from the test when all 3 of your targets get hit. First 100 people to get two people out, move on to the next stage of the testing. Now, your targets activate in 15 seconds. Let’s begin!”

As he finished his sentence, the walls around us fell to expose an absolutely cavernous arena. Hurriedly, I slammed a target onto my leg, contorted a bit to stick one in the middle of my back, and, after a moment’s thought, stuck the last target onto the inside of my bracer. It isn’t technically out of sight, I would just have to rotate my arm. I know that having one on my back probably isn’t the best, but it’ll work well to make me notice everything around me. I mused, glancing over at K to see just how she’d set up her three targets. At that point, I noticed the major redesign to K’s costume. Somehow, I had managed to not catch her basically rebuilding her suit from the ground up, and not piece it together that it had changed until just now. The most obvious change was accented by the test target, there was a target set up directly under a clasp that was clearly holding the iridescent cape that draped over her shoulders. Similarly, K had slapped her second target on her thigh, and the last target was somewhat obvious on her upper arm. My eyes cast over to Oliver, who had made a few small modifications to his costume (including what looked like a solar concentrator on his chest), and he’d stuck all three of his targets around the circular device on his chest. Having sorted out just what my companions were up to, I dashed off toward the miniature cityscape that was set up off to our left.

“Kailey, Oliver, we need to stick together! Let’s get moving!”

I heard two pairs of footfalls drop in behind me as we dashed for cover. Judging by the cacophony of thuds behind us, the crowd behind us was an absolute web of scattered balls. Clearly, some people had immediately forgotten that the targets weren’t active just yet. As we dashed into the city’s main street, it was obvious that we weren’t the only ones with the idea to camp out here. In fact, there was a familiar shock of flaming red hair peeking out of a first floor window, and by the time I got over my surprise at seeing Amber here of all places, the smoking ball she’d pitched at me slammed into the target on my leg.

“K, how much is it for you to get us into one of those buildings?”

“Portals take a lot, Aaron, we’re gonna have to run.”

Eyeing the red glow coming from my target, I turned toward the building that I’d seen my former... fling? I suppose you’d call it that in, a minor revenge plot in my mind. You could only imagine my shock as I saw yet another person from K and I’s past in the building beside her.

Zanshin looked almost... giddy at my surprise. Obviously he knew I was coming, his quirk wasn’t called situational awareness for nothing. He moved to throw a ball, and it sailed right over our heads. Thankfully, I’d put together just what he was trying to do moments before he pulled it off, and the ball struck, relatively harmlessly, next to the target on my back. Almost on reflex, I flung two balls at the targets on Zanshin’s chest. Obviously, they didn’t find their mark, he saw them coming from a mile away. It was at that point I noticed a slight blush spreading over Zanshin’s face.

“Wait, you’re dating Amber of all people?”I said, the shock clear in my voice.

“No WAY, snow-for-brains, he’s just helping me out because he’s smart enough to know a winner!” Amber snipped in response, clearly insulted at the mere idea of them being that close.

“H-hi, Kailey.” A rare stammer slipped into Zanshin’s speech as he waved somewhat sheepishly at K.  

“Hey Mei. How’ve you been holding up.” she smiled gently as she replied.

Doing my best to quash my entirely unreasonable jealousy at that, I looked more closely at Amber.

“I like the costume! Needs more fire theme, though.”

“Ugh, as if I’d be as tacky as you with your gross ice shirt, frosthead.”

“Yeah well at least his costume is functional and isn’t tacky and revealing” K snapped back without missing a beat.

“I dig the trench coat, Zanshin. Very you!” I quickly blurted out, trying to at least dial down the tension.

“Thanks! Those bracers are a good choice, and I’m surprised the support department let you get away with that much silver! Can’t have been cheap to produce.” Zanshin said, matter of factly gesturing toward my arms.

Amidst all the back and forth, someone threw a ball, and K took a hit to the target on her thigh.

Even though it wasn’t clear at first, a glance over at her expression said volumes about just who managed to tag her. A roughly contained fury was crossing the face of my best pal, and despite the odd shimmering of the air in front of her, it was drop dead obvious that Kailey was incredibly upset about this turn of events. The next thing I knew, there was a sound like a crowd running by, a bright flash of light, then the raucous sound of Amber tumbling to the floor in a daze, all three of her targets flicked on.

Knowing what K’s abilities did to Zanshin, I took the advantage she gave me, and flicked a ball at the group of three targets on his chest. The hyper perceptive young man looked almost nauseated at the lack of information he was getting, and the interruption of his flow was just enough to let me tag one of his targets.  

“You’re still so pathetic Hoshihime! The only reason you got me was because you couldn’t face me head on! YOU COWARD!” Amber screeched.

Kailey clearly had some words for her foe, but I knew our window was small, and getting smaller.

“K, we gotta get out of here, Zanshin’s not gonna be out of it much longer!” Before she could respond to Amber, I grabbed my girlfriend’s hand, rushing out of the building we had just taken cover in. Oddly enough, as we dashed out, I didn’t hear Oliver’s footsteps behind us, but once we got out into the road, it was pretty clear what he’d done.

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 26 - Rhaella and Aerys

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27849705

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Daenerys was on cloud nine the next few weeks; she was so happy that even her work colleagues were noticing something different about her. She kept replaying her kiss with Jon over and over in her head, worried that she was going to have to lock her office door and have a moment touching herself thinking of it. They way he pinned her against his car, the way his kisses caressed her neck. It was too much.

And now as she sat on her sofa with Jon as they watched hilariously bad reality TV, she couldn't stop thinking about how amazing her life had become because of that evening. Daenerys was tired on this Wednesday evening; but she didn't want their night to be over. She relished the time she shared with him but he would be leaving soon, yet she wanted him to stay.

Their programme finished and so he switched the TV off. "I think she should've apologised to her roommate for sleeping with her brother, that's just a no-go!"

"Jon, it's scripted for television I doubt it actually happened!"

"That's silly, no self respecting writer would create this junk!"

"Why are you so worked up about it?"

"As a good writer it pains me!" Jon moaned.

"I think you secretly like it" Dany cheekily prodded him.

Jon just rolled his eyes and Daenerys sleepily cuddled up next to him. He was strong and smelt of the woods; a true wolf. They'd not said outright they were dating to the Dragon Club or to her family yet; but she knew that Tyrion at least was smart enough to figure it out. And her mother had phoned her asking questions after Jon and herself were photographed leaving a nightclub together a few days previous. They will officially have been dating for four weeks in two days time and they'd gotten on like a house on fire.

They'd done at least one date night a week, dancing at their local centre one time (they'd been the only young couple there but it had been a laugh), clubbing the last week, three nightclubs in three hours and they'd been to the Draguna Amphitheatre with a picnic. It had been the highlights of her week, something that made her get through the work days, the long 14 hour days.

Just as Daenerys thought of this, her phone rang loudly through the room. She usually put it on silent when Jon was over, she didn't like to be distracted from him.

Who is calling me at this ungodly hour? Daenerys thought annoyed, they were interrupting her time with Jon. Sighing in defeat she grabbed her phone off of the table. It was her mother. That's odd, she's usually baby-sitting Aggy and Rani on Wednesday nights. She answered it anyways, not thinking much of it.

"Hello?" Daenerys said.

"Daenerys, it's your father!" Rhaella's accent purred over the phone. Daenerys mind swarmed. What had he done, what had happened? Was he okay? She felt her body shuddered as she wondered all the possibilities. "He's collapsed in a fit, we're currently in an ambulance, he's going to go to hospital!"

"Oh my god, mother it's gonna be okay. Which hospital are you going to?" Her mind began to swirl. She never got on with her father, but she loved him all the same. He was getting on in his years, but she never expected this, he was a stubborn man. He wasn't going to... No, Daenerys couldn't even think of it. She saw Jon's concerned face in the corner of her eye. She leapt up from the Sofa as she heard her mother shouting at the paramedics in the ambulance with her asking where they were going. She rushed to her room to grab some decent trousers, her jogging bottoms were going to do. She put her mother on speaker phone.

"We're going to the one on eighth street, St-"

"St. Oberyn's?" She asked. No father, you will be okay, you're not going to die, you're going to live and be fine. She kept repeating this mantra in her head, her mind rushing through everything. Her mother, she'd been with him for 37 years, she'd lose her best friend if... No Daenerys, he will not die!

"Yes, ring your brothers please! I can't get through!" Rhaella commanded. "And come quickly, your father needs you here!"

This was the one time she wasn't going to disobey her mother. "Yes Mama" She answered before hanging up the phone. "Oh my god, Oh my god"

Jon appeared before her, concerned as ever. "Okay breathe, what's happened?"

"Father has collapsed, some kind of seizure of something" She was full on panicking. She was fumbling with her phone as she tried to find Rhaegar's number. Jon sat her down on the edge of her bed while she did, he rubbed in circular motions on her back with his hand as he tries to calm her down. "Come on Rhaegar answer the damn phone!"

He did. "Hello?"

She explained everything to him in her quick panicked breaths, Jon trying to soothe her all the while. Daenerys head felt like it was going to explode from the sudden emotion. She didn't want him to die, it was selfish her reasoning but it was a reason all the same. She'd always wanted him to be proud of what she'd achieved, that her business had flourished. He'd never said he was and it drove her, if he died she'd never get to know if he was or not.

He did throw her out, but she loved him all the same. When she was young he'd listened to her tears and had pressed charges against Drogo when he'd discovered what he'd done to his sixteen year old daughter.

"Rhaegar I need him to survive" She cried after he said Viserys was at his house currently so she did not need to ring him.

"Sweet sister he will, Viz and I will be there as soon as we can, speak in a bit" He hung up then and left Daenerys crying on her bed edge with Jon trying to support her. She needed to be with her family, but all she felt like doing was crying on her brother's shoulder. Jon picked her up off of the bed and got her to come with him to the front door. She grabbed her keys and as she leaned on him crying, he locked the door and was met with Daario who was stood outside her door doing his night shift.

Jon didn't have time for Daario, but he explain that Daenerys' father was in the hospital after a collapse and that they both wanted Daario to drive them there. Daenerys thought Jon may have driven her, but in truth she didn't want to let go of him so Daario driving was a good idea. they got to the Rolls royce and Jon put Daenerys in the back. He climbed in the other side next to her and she heard him tell Daario it was St. Oberyn's hospital.

Daenerys didn't remember much after that. She just thought on the memory that broke her relationship with her father down...

"I don't give a shit what you want me to do! It's my life and I'll choose how to live it!" Daenerys seethed as her father started bunging her clothes in a bag.

"Then you will do so not in this household. You want a fashion magazine, you earn it!" He said unreasonably. "It takes effort, guts, persistence to run a business, it doesn't just happen overnight!"He threw the bag once it was full down the large grand staircase in their house, it fell at her brother Visery's feet who was too shocked to even say anything. "Maybe being homeless and appreciating what you have will remind you that working for me at my company will be the best thing you could've hoped for!"

"I've heard stories about you workplace father, you think I want to work with someone so volatile as you?" I'd be happy to start fresh, happy to work for my vision, for my dream! Especially if it's away from an unappreciative shitbag such as yourself!"

"DAENERYS TARGARYEN!" Her mother squealed as she tried to get some sort of control over the situation. "Watch your tongue!"

"No, I've had enough!" She screams. "All I asked for was a $2000 loan so I could start a fashion blog online, that's it! And now 'I'm being kicked out to live in my car!"

"You are been taught the meaning of money, young lady! It doesn't grow on trees!" Her father scathed.

"You made a $75 million profit last year, I asked for $2000, 2000 only!" She grunted. "Yet you're so fucking willing to fund Viserys travels across Europe or his fucking coke addiction!"

"Viserys has no goals in his life, if he wants to drown himself in decadence and women then yes, I will fund it in a controlled manner. But you, Daenerys, I expect much more from you! I had nothing when I started Targ Corp and I worked hard, you, need to know how to work hard too!"

And that was the end of the conversation, no matter how much she protested. Her bags were out the front and her key had disappeared. She was on her own. From then on she swore that her father will be shown how to properly run a business.

This sudden drop in her father's illness showed her that she wanted to make up with him, and she may not get a chance to now... She might not even get to introduce Jon to him, and this was the way her family was going to meet him. Her mother's watchful eyes were going to be surveying him, her brother's were going to be over protective. Especially since Drogo was steeped in all their history.

But she couldn't worry about that now, he father was dying, or possibly dying. The unknown was so scarey. "We're here" Daario spoke. Daenerys whimpered. "I'll run the car around, I have some errands to do, give us a call when you're ready to leave"

Jon must've nodded because Daenerys was getting out the car already, shaking in her legs. Daario drove off leaving Daenerys feeling like her whole world was turning upside down. They didn't know where he was, what was happening, all they knew he was here. "Come on, Dany" Jon took her hand and led her through the front door. "We need to find out where he is"

It was as they walked through the front doors that they were overwhelmed by the sign above the front reception which showed an infinite number of places he could be. "I.. I don't even know what's happened to him, all I know is he's been brought here!"

As if Daenerys struggle had been answered, in the corner of her eye she saw two silver-blond men walking in the front door after her. "Rae, Viz!" She hugged them to within a inch of her life. Never had she felt like such a let down as a sister. If something had happened to any of them they'd not have parted on terms she wanted. Even Viz, who she rarely spoke to she hugged for comfort. "I don't know what's happened, I don't know where he is or where Mama is!"

"Calm down, we'll find out!" Rae glanced over Daenery's shoulder. "I don't believe we've met before, Jon isn't it?"

"Oh Rae I'm sorry, where are my manners" Daenerys was in a state, she sighed apologetically at Jon who just smiled kindly. Daenerys couldn't help but wonder if he felt awkward at this family reunion in the middle of the hospital. Daenerys held onto Jon's hand. "This is Jon, the err... Journalist you know, that got a teensy bit carried away when writing about me"

"Dany" Jon rolled his eyes. Daenerys blushed as her anguish and pain from her father mixed with the embarrassment of introducing Jon in this way to her family. "I'm sure they know, everyone knows" Jon just sighed. "Nice to meet you both, sorry I'm here but she was in no state to come here by herself so I thought best to make sure she was as okay as she could be"

Daenerys just clung him for support. She was exhausted and she didn't know what was happening. Rhaegar and Viserys shook his hand with a small nod."Thanks for looking out for our little sister" Viserys was always going to be the one to trust Jon more than Rhaegar would. Especially after what happened with Drogo. But even she was surprised at Viserys laidback attitude. "Let's find out what's happening"

Rhaegar walked over to the desk first and the rest followed. "We're here to see our father, Aerys Targaryen. We got a worried phone call from our mother saying he'd been brought here after a seizure, we don't know where he's staying or what has happened but we need information"

"I'm afraid I have no proof of you being who you say you are and without more information from you patient files are confidential" The grumpy witch on the front desk spoke.

"Excuse me?" Rhaegar said in disbelief. Viserys tried calling his mother's number but the woman snapped at him for having a phone on in the hospital. "We can't give you any information we don't know what happened, all we know is he's collapsed"

"Tough luck then" The woman went back to her stapling. Daenerys was surprised when Jon spoke up.

"I don't like your attitude, lady. These three people have a father somewhere in your hospital possibly dying and you're refusing information on his whereabouts?" Jon scathed. "Aerys Targaryen is the second richest person in King's Landing behind his daughter here Daenerys Targaryen, the owner of Valyrian magazine. His son Rhaegar her is a war hero decorated with the Medal of Honor and his other son is the heir to his company. These people are distraught, their father has collapsed with some kind of seizure or heart attack and he was brought to this hospital to be cared for. Now, I suggest you tell us where he's being held or at least take us to the correct waiting room or I, Jon Snow the journalist from The Wolf Online, am gonna have a really wonderful article on Hospital competencies to write about when I go home in the morning"

Daenerys stared in disbelief as the grumpy bitch behind the desk looked as if she'd been slapped in the face. Jon never, ever used his credentials as leverage, he found it to be foolhardy and dishonourable. But here he was, helping her family. The woman sighed and started typing in things on her computer.

"He's been brought into ICU for suspected heart attack, Follow the left hall and turn right at the bottom, there's a waiting room there where you can wait for more information" She snapped.

"Thank you" Jon nodded and led Dany away from the desk. Daenerys was in shock. Rhaegar nodded impressed and Viserys smirked a little. They followed the hall like the woman said, not saying anything. When they reached the waiting room they were approached by a wailing Rhaella. She smothered all three into an embrace.

"Oh my babies" She splurted.

"Mama" Daenerys cried. "What news?"

"They think it's a Heart Attack; but they're running tests" She sadly spoke. Her eyes caught Jon's, Daenerys noticed. But she did not say anything as a doctor entered the waiting room. His eyes found Rhaella's and he came over. Daenerys felt dread in the pit of her stomach... please don't be dead, please don't have left us.

"Rhaella Targaryen?" The Doctor asked. she nodded. "Your husband is Critical but stable for now" Daenerys felt a weight fall off of her. She breathed better. "He's suffered from both a seizure which triggered a heart attack. We're gonna be monitoring closely and running tests to get more conclusive results. But you can all breath easy now. He's a stubborn man"

That my father is, that he is.