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hiddleswiftt · 9 months

Note

I love your fics and I saw you wanted ideas so here I am. I thought maybe you could do a Taylor inspired fic for Laurie with Love Story maybe with like a ball or something?

ooohh! yes! I’ve been waiting on a laurie fic request for a while now!

maybe with another march sister reader??

(tumblr deleted my first draft so i have to re-write!)

LOVE STORY (INSPIRED BY THE TAYLOR SWIFT SONG “LOVE STORY”!)

laurie laurence x march sister (fem) reader!

description - you have been friends with laurie (along with your sisters) since his mother passed away. laurie was the lonely boy who was living with old mr laurence who lived opposite the march house, and ever since he started hanging around with you and your sisters, you’ve started to have feelings for him. six years later, you are travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion whilst you are studying and completing your acting classes. you and aunt march are invited to a ball in paris and someone in particular is on the list for you to dance with for the night! - i tried to make it similar to amy and laurie’s story but the reader wanting to be an actress rather than an artist like amy!

you’ve always loved laurie. always.

even when he had feelings for one of your older sisters josephine (or jo).

you’d be the one sitting aside, especially during your eldest sister meg’s wedding, while you watch jo and laurie dance. amy would reassure you that you’d be okay as you sit with her and beth (as she continued to struggle slightly from trying to get better from scarlet fever).

when beth got scarlet fever, laurie was always around for you. when you found out about it, jo and meg told you to stay with aunt march until beth is well again.

“i don’t want to say with aunt march! id rather catch scarlet fever than stay with her, the poodle and the parrot!” you’d wine as you put your head between the pillows of the couch while laurie would insist for you to stay with aunt march.

he was very persuasive, but in a kind way.

he wouldn’t tell you to do something if you didn’t want to. but this was serious. the spread of scarlet fever was serious. it wasn’t a joke anymore. you just about understood that.

laurie told you he’d come and see you, and you suggested for him to bring either the carriage or the phaeton, which he did, just to make you happy.

whenever laurie came to see you, you’d be dancing dramatically (as you would usually) wearing aunt march’s feathered things. you’d smile at him when you realise he’s been standing at the doorframe of the room watching you.

you’d show him things such as aunt march’s wedding ring (which you told him that she was too fat to wear anymore - he’d snigger at you quietly when you said this), the golden bracelet that was for the only child she ever had (until it died unfortunately…) or perhaps anything else you had found amongst aunt march’s house while she was napping.

you would show laurie the will you’ve written, since you thought you’d be the next to die to scarlet fever. laurie sat with you in confusion.

“from y/n m/n march, this is her will and testament for those that may die after her,” laurie read, “for my sister jo, i give her my..”

in this case the list went on.. and on..

laurie looked at you, “y/n.. you’re not going to die! you’re not even sick!” he tells you, trying to reassure you that you were going to be fine.

then you look across to him, and slump down next to him, “i know.. it’s just a precaution! i will some day.. we all do!” you tell him.

there’s a silence between the two of you. then you finally pluck up the confidence to ask laurie to write something else on your will.

“laurie? i have one more thing for you to add?” you ask him, “i want all my curls cut off to all the men who had loved me!”

you seem a little dramatic, but laurie laughs at you slightly and quickly scribbles it down on the will for you.

“if you want to look horrific in your coffin, y/n, go ahead!” laurie tells you, laughing as he finishes writing your comment on the will.

TIME SKIP -

it had been a year since and you had been travelling around europe with aunt march as her companion, while you completed and studied your acting classes.

you and aunt march were set to attend a ball in paris! you had changed a lot since you left home so aunt march suggested that you should start looking towards marriage now that you are properly of age now.

you had met a man named fred vaughn back a few years ago (he’s a friend of laurie’s) on the lake one summer. aunt march suggested for the two of you to marry, but you were unsure, and you thought that you wanted to make your own match.

you arrived at the ball venue in paris. you looked stunning. one of the best dressed probably..

as you entered the venue, you were given a card which included 6 men that wanted to dance with you for the evening.

you glanced at the names on the card briefly (except for the first - which you headed to first).

gregory lance - the first gentleman on the list. wants to dance “the saraband” with you. so you headed towards him for the dance.

as you quickly got through each dance, you finished your fifth finally. you said goodbye to david molesey - who was your fifth dancer, and looked down to your card again to find your sixth and last dance of the night.

you looked down to spot a familiar name on your card.

‘6. theodore laurence - lancers’

you smile and start to look for laurie, not realising that he was already staring at you from the doorframe of the room.

you smile at him and you decide to meet each other half way.

you hug him straight away, trying not to let you or laurie ruin your look of the night. “laurie! what are you doing here? i thought you were in london with your grandfather!” you said, smiling at him.

he smiles at you, completely in awe of you of how beautiful you look, “well.. i guess i am needed here just incase you need anything, y/n march!” he said, “and you look so beautiful! i almost didn’t recognise you!”

you blush a little and slap his arm softly, “yeah yeah.. what have you been up to, laurie?” you ask him, “anymore of the gambling and the drinking?”

he laughs slightly, “no.. no.. none of that recently, y/n!” he tells you, then you remember something that didn’t do laurie any good recently.

“im so sorry jo turned you down, laurie.. im so sorry.” you tell him, looking at him, making sure he’s okay.

laurie looks back up at you, “don’t worry.. im not..” he said to you, smiling at you and taking in the view of you, then he remembered that you both have a dance together, “miss march? may i have this dance?”

laurie takes your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room to start the dance. you nod at him, “one often does at a ball, laurie laurence..” you tell him, giggling at him a little.

he smiles at you, as you both walk and start the dance. the dance has become more easier for you both.

you remember when you were younger, probably about five years ago, you and laurie were stood in the laurence house dancing. beth was playing the piano, meg was constantly flirting with mr brooke and jo and amy were giggling at you two while we continued to step on each others feet as you both danced.

oddly it was the same dance that were to start dancing at the ball just then. it was a familiar feeling that you hadn’t seen or talked of in a long while. the nostalgia rushed back to you both immediately.

it felt just right.

as the music and the dance stopped, there was a sense of something between you two.

you invited laurie to talk with aunt march and a few others. a lot of aunt march’s friends thought you and laurie were married!

you just shut your mouth and didn’t say much after that.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you decided to have a break and walk outside to get some air on the balcony. it was getting slightly too warm in the building so it was good to escape for a few minutes.

you didn’t notice laurie behind you, so it shocked you for a moment.

“y/n? are you alright?” he asked you, finally catching up with you and standing next to you on the balcony.

you smile up at him, “yes.. yes.. im fine.. i just needed some air..” you tell him.

you notice two boats on the ocean near to the venue, as you both stood on the balcony. the boats were close together. laurie caught you looking at them, and swiftly looked back at you to admire you.

“those boats are pretty close together.. as if they are on the same path..” you mumble to him.

laurie smiles and takes your hand in his. this gets you to look up at him. “y/n.. are we on the same path?” he asks you.

you suddenly look from the boats to laurie, who had now taken your hand in his. you looked into his eyes. you both knew exactly what you wanted.

“i guess we are, laurie…” you finally admit, as you start smiling at him.

you both stand and admire each other for a couple of seconds, then laurie begins to hold your waist, now leaning into you slowly.

as you both continue to stand on the balcony, you and laurie lean in together for a slow but passionate kiss.

you bring your hand to his cheek, and continue to kiss. the two of you felt alive at this point. more alive than you both have ever felt, ever.

you knew you should’ve told him how you felt years ago, although laurie was in love with jo at the time. gladly, you didn’t think that was the case anymore.

laurie loved you. and you only.

you loved laurie. and laurie only.

you both moved away from the kiss, laughing and sniggering still as if you were still children. you both knew that you weren’t children anymore, since time and your childhoods have gone so fast, and you both had nothing you could do to change that.

you were just happy in the moment. the moment you were continuously picturing for years. you never thought it would ever happen, but here you both were. in that moment together.

you notice something different about him that you didn’t see before.

“laurie. you grew out your hair!” you say, playing with it a little.

laurie laughs at you slightly, “i guess you could care for it?” he says, now looking at you.

you smile at him happily, “always, laurie… always!” you say, kissing his cheek.

suddenly someone with a letter on a tray walks to you and laurie. you pick it up swiftly and open it, making sure laurie stands by you though it, as you think the letter could be what you think it could be.

you read the letter. you were right.

you stand next to laurie and sob into his arms.

“it’s beth…” you say as you put your head into his chest, letting laurie hold you.

you let laurie read the letter. it’s from marmee, clarifying beth’s death.

you weren’t as close to beth as jo was to her. but you did have your fun times. especially that same moment when you, laurie and your sisters were in laurence house together, as beth played the piano while you and laurie would attempt to dance but instead you’d be treading on each others feet.

although you and beth weren’t as close as her and jo were, she still was your sister.

it was as if you planned out her death, as if you planned out your own with the will you wrote and told laurie about a few years ago.

MINI TIME SKIP -

it took you a couple of days to get through beth’s death. you were still in paris, you told marmee you’d come home as soon as possible.

you had a mix of feelings about what could be happening between you and laurie and thoughts of beth, and the fact that you weren’t there to support her when she was dying.

you stood on the balcony of the home you were staying in with aunt march. aunt march wasn’t doing so great herself either. she was falling ill now.

laurie came to see you that same day. he wanted to talk about the relationship you had but he was unsure whether you were okay to talk about it after hearing about beth’s passing.

“i keep remembering that will i wrote when beth had scarlet fever..” you remind laurie, as you both stand together.

“you bequeathed me a plaster horse, if i remember correctly.” laurie thought, as he looked at you.

“i had my death all planned out.. all rehearsed in my mind…” you say, trying not to cry, “i had beth’s all rehearsed and ready too… thought it would.. tear me open.. or burn me down like a house. but now im just frozen!”

laurie took your hand in his again. “ill come and see you everyday, y/n…” he says, admiring you but also making sure that you’re okay.

you look up at him, slowly twiddling your thumb with his, “promise me?” you ask.

he looks at you again, watching you twiddling your thumb with his, “yes.” laurie told you, now reaching into his pocket for something.

you wonder what he was looking for, so you decided to look out at the view from the castle balcony.

it took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for. he brought a black box from his pocket, and showed it to you.

you turned back to him and looked at the box. you were stunned.

“so.. y/n.. could we make it last forever?” he said, opening the box to reveal the engagement ring inside.

you were taken by surprise that laurie wants to marry you. you smile widely, and nod at him, letting him put the ring on your finger confirming your engagement.

MINI TIME SKIP -

you and laurie were on their way home from your long trip around europe with aunt march. aunt march had briefly found out about your engagement to laurie before passing out, and being taken home with aunt carrol and her daughter florence, who had been your other company before laurie arrived.

as soon as you arrived home, laurie helped you out of the carriage to find meg, marmee, father, amy, and jo (slowly) running out to greet you both.

marmee (with her good eye) noticed a ring on your finger. funnily enough, it wasn’t the same ring that laurie gave you a few days ago. it wasn’t the engagement ring.

you smiled down at the ring, and then looked back up at laurie.

“that’s not an engagement ring!” marmee says, realising something.

you and laurie smile at each other as you notice marmee admiring your ring.

“it’s a wedding ring!” marmee says, pulling you into a large hug and kissing you on the cheek, while father shakes laurie’s hand to congratulate us both, and to thank him for marrying you.

you smile at your mother again. “i cant quite get my glove over it!” you laugh, then moving to laurie to give your ‘husband’ a kiss on the cheek.

MINI TIME SKIP -

the hustle and bustle around the march house after yours and laurie’s return and the surprise of your marriage spread amongst the house. especially to mr laurence (laurie’s grandfather), who had told him to go abroad after jo turned him down.

you were happy. both of you were.

turns out that jo was falling in love with the professor she met at the boarding house in New York. she arrived home a week after yours and laurie’s return after being out in town and the professor was waiting for her.

you knew she was in love with him. jo knew you had always been in love with laurie.

you kindly persuaded jo to tell professor bhaer how she felt about him, and from soon after that, all your sisters and yourself were in love.

you all sat together, you and laurie at the piano as laurie played and you rested your head on his shoulder, meg and john with kitty and minnie, marmee and father and finally jo and bhaer.

it just fitted together so perfectly.

please don’t copy my work! <3

(let me know what you think of this fic by giving this post a like, follow and a comment!)

— h4uerkings

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castawxayaway · 7 years

Text

World Gone Mad

so, hi. it’s actually been almost a month I think since I last wrote anything and published it. behind the scenes, I’ve started new pieces and not really had it to continue them which is so unlike me. but, bastille released a new song, and a video to go with it and likewise with glory I asked if anyone would like something written based on world gone mad. so, here it is. I’ll let you know now that I don’t fully understand what the movie ‘Bright’ is about, so I just kinda went based on the video and on my own ideas.

(I hope you like it and enjoy, I’m not sure when I’ll post next as I am a ball of stress thanks, uni) (and currently, want a three hour conversation about dan smith being a boyfriend)

it’s a week late since the video went up but i’ve been a busy bee and I can finally finish it and publish yay

collection of writing

Running aimlessly I scream his name, the chaos only growing as everyone heads in different directions. No one knows where is safe anymore, where we can hide until it’s over, if it’ll ever be over. I force down the lump that grows in my throat, the suffocating weight that crushes my chest as I move forward refusing to give up or give in until I’ve found him.

I over analyse everyone. Those who run in fear, and those who are the ones responsible. I just wish I knew which he was, as I question his previous intentions. Coughing heavily I pause to try and catch my breath as dust coats my clothes, once pristine and treasured, now destroyed in the riots that have been occurring these past few days. It no longer matters how many they arrest, I don’t think it’ll be good enough anymore.

A cloud of smoke forms behind me, my hearing now gone and replaced with a high pitch whirring sound. My feet pick up the pace and charge straight ahead towards the square. I continue to swallow the painful lump, the choke that I try to conceal from those smart enough to wear masks whilst I allow myself to remain fully exposed. Dust clings to every fibre in my mouth, making it even drier and harder to speak.

Slowing down I reach the square, my chest rises and falls frantically along with the beating of my heart. I take each step carefully as I rest on the remains of a statue, whatever one this once resembled now nothing more than stone, back to its original appearance. As I sit there I check my arms, my legs and torso for any signs of blood, whether it be my own or someone else's.

Across my right leg, the black fabric has been slashed, the cut from the glass only worsening as I remain resilient in my search for him. The bruise on my eye and the scars that have formed on my chest throb lightly, now nothing more than a dull ache. I glance around at the square, how only a few months ago this was a civilised place, this was his home. I hoped one day it would be our home as we used to walk across this space, watch the children squeal and laugh in the fountain. But now the fountain is a pile of rubble, the laughter a faint memory as screams remain apparent instead. Forcing myself up I wince, I decide to head East where I know it’s quieter for the meantime. Maybe he’s gone that way, he could be hiding, and if he is then I’ll be ready.

I watch as some pass me by, each of us has mutual respect and boundaries. We are all on the same side, for now, that is. Our weapons remain hidden, the shard of glass that cut me is in my pocket, wrapped in cloth and still stained with my own blood. He was the one who told me to do this, to flee as he warned me something could happen to him. I wish he specified what, as now the curiosity has plagued my mind as I search for him.

A whole month of this life, of trying to survive as they tear the city apart. An entire month of getting by, seeing some get taken away or beaten on the streets. Of seeing others rebel and blow up the buildings I once admired, constantly thinking back to the times I explored them with him by my side. It’s been a month of worry looming in the back of my mind, hoping he’s alright.

With hesitation I walk down to an alleyway to check my phone, the cracked screen mainly useless, but I keep it just in case he calls, that and to check the time since the bell tower is no more. 3:49pm. Looking up the sun remains high, hidden away from the clouds in fear like many who peer out of broken buildings as sirens wail around the city.

Turning the corner my eyes glance at the broken cars, the ones that have been smashed into or crunched into themselves. The scene doesn’t affect me anymore, it’s as if I’ve become immune to the outbreak, yet I can’t help but look a bit longer at the police car.

It was upside down, wheels still spinning as smoke pours out of it, a wheel discarded nearby not far from my view. Slowly I move closer, trying to get a better look at the bloody hand hangs lifelessly out of the shattered window. The lights flicker slower and slower, my shoes crunch under the broken glass, but I stand back as I see a hand grasp out onto the concrete from the back of the vehicle.

Reaching into my pocket I grasp onto the glass shard, holding it tightly as I wait to see the traitor come out of the crushed car. Slowly I watch as more arm appears, whoever it is can’t see me from this angle, I’m concealed to them and their priority will be escaping, to not get caught again. I take a few steps closer, being careful to not make too much noise as the siren wails in pain, the sound becoming more haunting each second. More body appears but his face is concealed, I squint my eyes as his arm is wrapped around his front. All I can see is his black jacket and jeans that have been slashed.

Something about them intrigues me, never before have I been this close to one of them, a traitor. Around his wrist the cuffs hang, one secured to his wrist and the other free, just waiting to be taken care of. I watch as his arm reaches up, sweeping back a mess of dark brown hair and I pause, my calm heartbeat suddenly intensifying. I release my tight hold on my makeshift weapon and move with a bit more speed.

I’m so close to him, but it couldn’t be, could it? Biting my lip back I fear to call him, exposing him or notifying others that hide in the surroundings. If they see someone with handcuffs on, it won’t take long to put the pieces together. Instead, I lower my head, I nudge past him and I’m unable to ignore the feeling.

Turning back I pause, my heart dropping as it hangs onto the few strings of hope that remain. I go to say something, but no words form. His face is beaten, cut and stained with his own dried blood. Down is forehead he can’t conceal the pain that throbs from the slash, the deep cut across his nose and the blood that poured from underneath it. “What’re you covering?” The words come out harsh as I motion to his stomach. With no hesitation, he lowers his arm, his once white top marked with his weeks of hiding, of being hunted and ripped, but not bleeding.

I let out a short sigh of relief as I avoid his gaze. He mutters my name quietly as I look around us, picking at every angle they could be watching us from, watching him from. “Please,” A small plea as I feel cool metal brush my wrist, I defensively pull back and continue to walk, noticing him slip his cuffed wrist into his pocket.

We both walk, further along, another fire sounds behind us. Smoke and dust cloud together, too many people run towards us, too many for us to get out of this stampede safely. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the side, down a small alleyway. Breathing heavily our bodies touch, the small space slimmer than it appeared. I watch them as they run, as they cough. Some help others, carrying them in teams as they cry in pain or are hanging lifelessly in their arms.

His breath remains heavy against my neck as I remain too afraid to face him this closely. The feelings I’ve longed for since this started have been shattered now I’ve found him, this is not what I anticipated happening. “Let me explain.” He speaks quietly, his face titled downwards as I watch the crowds thin until it’s nothing more than those who are too slow, the ones who won’t last until tomorrow at the latest.

As they limp, clutching to their seeped tops frustration rises in my body. “What? You going to tell me how you let all this happen?” Anger replaces my loving tone towards him as he avoids my gaze now, rather than the other way round. “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you? I have not stopped looking for you, I knew in my heart that you wouldn’t betray everyone you loved.” Looking him up and down he lifts his head. His icy blue eyes standing out in pain, I lock mine with his. “Looks like I was wrong.” I mutter and tear my eyes from his.

“I can explain.” He retorts, holding onto my shoulder to stop me from looking out too far. Raising an eyebrow at him he sighs into my lips, the distance between us not helping. “When I lost you, after that explosion, I was taken by them. They forced me into it, saying they’ll find those I care about and kill them one by one. I, I had no choice.” He shakes his beaten face, his hair falls covering the surface damage temporarily. “If, if anything had happened to you,” I focus back on his eyes, they soften slightly, the emotion rises to the surface. The version of him I knew returning.

My hand reaches up to his cheek, the one free of any recent damage, but he squirms for a split second. “But I’m here. So you didn’t betray us?” I ask, trying to hold back the lump that paused itself, but now is back on play.

He shook his head. “Never.” His eyes searched mine, ignoring the blurriness that formed across them. I felt his hand on top of mine as it rested on his cheek, “I love you too much to ever do such a thing.” I sniff quietly.

“After all this time I was so worried, I thought you might’ve been dead.” I whimper, but sniff forcefully and straighten up, I can’t afford to do this now. “But now what?” I swallow the lump and take my hand from his cheek, using it to wipe the dust and tears that solidify on my face.

He lowers his head again, something he does when he knows I’ll take it hard, whatever he has to say will hurt. I shake my head repeatedly, not wanting him to say what I think he’ll suggest. “I’ll have to turn myself in.” The words that break my heart.

We’ve all heard the rumours about what happens to the traitors. What happens once they have you. I continue to shake my head, “You can’t.” Holding his hands tightly I let the tears fall, every emotion floods my system after being on lockdown for a month. “I’ll never get you back.”

His dirty fingertips wipe my eyes as fresh tears fall, replacing the last. “If it’ll keep you any bit safer it’s worth a try.” He chokes a laugh and glides his hand along my neck revealing the one thing I held dear throughout all of this. I watch the absent smile return, the ring attached to the chain still fairly clean but missing from my finger. “We had it all planned.” I laugh at his comment, how useless it all is now.

“A future,” I smile to him, “what a thought that is, right?” He reciprocates the smile, through the pain that lines his face I can see a glint of hope. “Together through it all as you said to me, right?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but it hangs as he zones into the sound of the click from his side. Lifting his arm up mine follows, his eyes go wide and fear melts the hope in the deep blue. “What did you just do.” Sincerity and worry line his tone as I let the tears fall.

“Together through it all, Dan. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.” He remains speechless as the sirens sound. His hand intertwines with mine, and he backs away, further down the alleyway until it becomes wider, more open.

The further we go the more deserted the space seems. He reaches up and snags the necklace, discarding the chain and holds the ring in his fingertips. “If we’re going to do this,” He slips the ring onto my finger, “then we do it properly.” Looking at the ring I remember the night he gave it to me, the happiness we shared in that moment, a sense of euphoria. We planned it all, I had my dress that he’ll never see me in. Instead, we stand hand in hand covered in dust and stale blood, marked with the pity of what we never got.

“I love you.” I whisper as the sirens come closer, our time running out.

Moving closer the space between us is gone, his lips hover over mine. “I love you too, whatever happens I love you.” His lips kiss mine with so much force, intertwined with tears and the metallic drops from his nose, but neither of us care. If this is goodbye, then we might as well make it worthwhile.

Unaware of his hand slipping into my pocket I feel something loosens. “Dan?” I pull away and the siren comes to a holt.

Pulling back from me I notice the cuff is gone from my wrist, we’re no longer attached. My eyes widen with fear, he kisses me one last time, muttering into my lips, “I love you. You’ll see me soon, I promise.” Before I have the opportunity to scream after him he faces the police, the crowd that surrounds behind the barricades. They all shout, but I can’t hear a single thing.

I watch as he lifts his arms up behind his head, following their commands as guns focus on his head. He turns to look at me, a single nod as I continue to sob. They move closer towards him, I watch all those around sneer, spit and swear at him as they hold the gun to his forehead.

My eyes close tightly as I hear the bang and the cheers. I move away, tears blind me as I run, stumble to a rock and lie there admiring the ring through the blur. “I’ll see you soon Dan,” Reaching into my pocket I feel the shard. “I promise.”

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

Text

Finding Him

AU!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping/taken, angst, mentions/implications of rape, mentions of blood, gruesome I think, maybe. (If I need more warnings, I’ll add them. Not sure what I need for warnings right now) I would recommend to being at least 18 to be safe.

Summary: Dean doesn’t come home from a supply run. Sam and the Reader find the Impala, but no Dean. Who would take Dean? Why? Clock’s ticking.

Word count: 2,400-ish

a/n: Inspired by a fic called Lost by @talesmaniac89, only I switched the roles and the whole premise of the story in comparison.

Finding Him Masterlist

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His vision blackened by the dark hood that covered his head.

“See boss, I found him, one of the Winchester boys.” A male voice says. As if he were expecting a prize.

“Yes, I see that, you were also to get his little brother you nitwit!” another man shouted.

Dean could hear growls in the distance. Meaning he was dealing with more than just one monster. Also, what kind of monster?

“But doing this draws out his brother. Once he is out and about, I’ll get him.”

“You better, but watch out for his mate. I hear she’s feisty.”

Y/N, they knew her as well. But she was only with the brothers for, not even, 6 months now.

“Why again are we doing this? Why don’t we just swarm their base now? I mean, we can use his scent to lead us there.” A female voice was heard this time. She sounded rather annoyed by the whole situation.

“Because, it’s her I want.”

“Why?”

“She’s a half-breed. First of our kind. Her mother was human. They say half-breeds are weaker than their pure bred counterpart. But I beg to fucking differ!” the boss man got furious at a memory.

Y/N’s a what? Dean thought. He could only huff against the gag in his mouth that was tapped in by duct tape. His hands were bound by all kinds of bindings. Rope, tape and even chains. These werewolves took precautions to prevent Dean from escaping or fighting back.

Y/N must have done something to piss this guy off. He thought.

“Just bring the other Winchester, Lure this bitch out. I want her now!”

“Sam, I found the impala but no Dean.” She said into the phone.

“Store clerk said no one was following him in the store. So it must have happened outside of the store on the way home.”

“I don’t like this Sam, who would take him and why?”

“I don’t know. Come swing by, pick me up and I’ll drive Dean’s baby home.”

“Sure thing, then we’ll get hunting for your brother.”

She hung up the phone. She could smell it. It’s faint but it’s werewolf. Maybe it’s time to come clean about her lineage to Sam. It might help in finding Dean.

“So you’re a half breed. Half human, half werewolf? How’s that possible?” Sam asked. Not a hint of malice in his words, no hint of anger or hostility in his body language.

“My mom was human. My dad was an alpha werewolf. But my mom died giving birth to me. I never really had a mother. But there’s this other pack, my dad went rogue on them when they started killing humans. He’d kill his own members to save humans.” She explained.

“Your dad sounds like a good man.”

“He was. Then his alpha found us. Tried to take me. He fought back. Or, tried to. I managed to get away. But in the woods I could smell my dad’s blood. He kill him. I’m more than sure, he’s the one that took Dean. He’s trying to lure me out.”

“He really shouldn’t underestimate the Winchester way of doing things.”

“What do you have in mind, I do see those wheels in your head turning?” she asked.

“We’ll need Cas’s help. I’ll even see if Bobby or any of the apocalypse hunters are up for some fuckery.”

She smiled, what does this guy have in mind, must be awesome.

Weeks pass.

Sure he’d feed Dean, give him water even. But the alpha has a plan. And it’s not a great one.

He’s building an army.

“It’s my daughter, Alpha. She’s presenting, and I feel she is suitable for bearing a half breed.” Said a woman behind the door.

“Once she is fully presented, we’ll put him to work. And soon she will bear a half breed. Because if that bitch won’t come to me, we’ll come to her, with an army to boot.”

Dean swallowed thickly.

Already several scared girls had come in, he was forced to impregnate these girls. In hopes of making werewolves just like y/n.

He’s not dumb, half breeds are not as weak as people or other monster claim them to be. Because of their human counterparts, they don’t give up.

“How many have we made so far boss?” the same wolf that kidnapped Dean asked.

“9. Nine half breeds. And 5 of us. Two omegas, one beta, and two alphas. The half breeds don’t even need to present. That’s the thing we need to research further.”

“I’m sure our doctors in the sandy hills would love to look at them, and this girl of yours.”

“I’m sure. But, she’s mine. Mine to tame, mine alone. I’ll make an omega out of her.”

“You want to see what offspring you and her would produce?” he asked. Seeing his masterplan now.

“We need an army. Those British hunters already got the drop on us and have killed most of ours. But now, with us being mostly half breeds. We’ll see how much of a match we are to them.”

“Impervious to silver. But they’ll die like any normal human.”

“Maybe so. But we’ll train them in combat. We will win this.”

His comrade nodded.

A low growl could be heard from y/n as she paced the library.

“Weeks Sam, it has been weeks. We need to find him.”

“I know, Bobby’s trying to round up everyone.”

“I can feel them doing something to him, it’s not good. We need to hurry.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t describe it without making you feel uncomfortable. But it’s not good. Let’s just put it at that.”

Sam’s phone rang. Caller ID, Bobby.

“Hey, Bobby, whatchyou got?”

“Sam, bring your girl and come to our hide out. It’s getting bad out there.”

“Bad, bad how?”

“We’re out numbered. The amount of werewolves is growing. More than what we can keep up with.”

“Okay, we’ll pack what we can and meet you out there.”

Sam hung up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Their numbers are growing.”

“I told you it was bad.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s making an army of half breeds. Like me. And he’s using Dean to help in that process.”

“You mean, he’s forcing these wolf girls to rape my brother?” Sam asks, growing sickened and angry.

“Yes. Which is why we need to hurry. Let’s just go where we need to go. I’ll tell you what we can do to win.”

“Great, not only are you like a human, but impervious to silver. So our bullets and knives won’t kill you.” One of the male apocalypse hunters fumed.

“So how do we kill them?” Meg asks.

“Just like how you’d kill any human. An ordinary weapon. But don’t injure them. Or Don’t waste time on the kill. They…we can heal quickly.”

“You have to have some kind of weakness.” Bobby says.

“Well, we’re not totally impervious to silver. I learned that the hard way from you hunters.” She says. “Just before I met Sam and Dean, I ran into a hunter. He learned of what I was. And tried to kill me. His silver blade slashed my arm. I had this nasty looking infection. But really it was poison.”

“Dean brought you back, and we healed you up.” Sam added. She nodded with a sad smile.

“That’s why you didn’t tell us. You were afraid we’d do that to you.” Sam says. She cast her gaze to her feet, fiddling her hands at her waistline. She felt Sam’s hand at her cheek. Coaxing her to look up at him.

“You had our backs, you saved Dean from shifters and wendigos. You saved me from vamps and werewolves. Cas from angels. Hell, even our own mother from a number of monsters. We wouldn’t have hurt you darlin’.”

“When he saved me, Dean. I imprinted on him.”

“How’d you…”

“I’m not sure. He felt safe. I felt safe. It was after he saved me, I’ve been able to feel what he feels. Know exactly where he was. Or is. Some say imprinting anyone, a wolf or human, is done by sex. But we didn’t do anything. He just held me. Safe in his arms.” She explained.

“Could be that. Could be a soul thing.” Bobby says. “Soulmates.”

Sam and Y/N nodded.

A moment passed. Y/N shook her head out of her thoughts.

“We need to get Dean back before the Alpha kills him. When he deems Dean no longer useful. I can, feel him. He does feel far. But I’m sure I can find him.”

“Well, let’s do this. Bobby, you, and the hunters try to get their numbers down. Kill as many as you can. Y/N and I will get Dean out of there. Then after—”

“I’m killing that Alpha, once and for all. More lives are in danger with him alive.” She growled.

Sam could only nod.

A shot rang out.

“All the guards outside are half breeds. Aim for the head.” She ordered the hunters that came along.

Shot after shot rang out.

She took in their scent. They weren’t that old, freshly presented. She stared at them in confusion. Half breeds don’t present. Unless a certain gene allows them to present or not enough research went into half breeds.

“Sam, you and I we need to move in. now.” She ordered. Sam nodded.

“Keep them from entering.” She told the hunters.

“Sam, let’s go!”

And they ran their way inside.

“Get the human!” the alpha ordered.

Dean, looking a bit rough from weeks and weeks of rough sex, little food and water and no sleep. The wolf picked him up by the collar, Dean grunted against the motion as his hands were bound behind his back since the day they brought him in here. His wrists have been cut up and bloodied from his struggles.

“I’d be happy to rip his heart out for ya boss.” He sneered.

“NO!” The alpha shouted.

The wolf shuddered.

“He’s mine.”

He threw Dean at the Alpha’s side.

Dean landed on his side with a hard thud and grunt. He was too weak to play the tough guy. Too weak to give a witty comeback.

He just laid there, waiting for his death.

Sam, preoccupied by other wolves in the warehouse as Y/N walked into the Alpha’s Domaine. His den, his ‘Throne Room’. He stood on a balcony meant for loading large machinery. It had no railing on one side.

She could smell his blood. Causing a growl to emerge deep within her chest. Her fists clench so hard she could draw blood.

“There she is.” The alpha growled.

“Here I am. Do you want to end this or should I?” she asked. Glaring down at him.

“You dare talk like that to your Alpha?” he growled.

“You are not my alpha, I’m no one’s alpha. You are a murderer.”

“Now, I’d beg to differ on that. You killed your own kind.”

“I have two kinds. Human and wolf. Humans seem a lot better than you.”

He growled at her remark.

“You mean, like this human!” he pulls Dean up by the collar. His sheer strength alone allowed him to hold Dean in the air, hanging him by his collar. He hung him over the ledge with no railing. Intending on letting him either hang to his death or drop him.

Her heart dropped.

Dean kicked, trying to get free. He began gagging for air.

“He’s weak, just like your father was. Your father was infatuated with a human and it weakened him. He was my right hand man!” he shouted.

She tried to keep a good poker face going. But Dean’s eyes began to roll as he was loosing more and more air.

“You are just like him. Infatuated with a human.”

“Let him go.” She says. Demanding.

The Alpha cocked his head, cocking an eyebrow, smirking. Oh, she thinks she’s going to have it easy. He thought.

“Please, I’ll turn myself over to you willingly. But you have to let him go. Alive!” she demanded.

“Hmm, such a tempting offer.” The Alpha says playfully. “But, no. I think I’ll pass.” He says.

He repositions Dean so he could easily wrap his hand around his throat. She could tell he was squeezing the life out of him, he kicked furiously, desperately trying to get free.

I hope this will work. She thought.

She darts, climbing up a stack of crates leading up to the platform.

She managed to get on the platform without him noticing. She could see the color to Dean’s face changing. His eyes rolling.

A fire burned in her eyes. He’s not going to take him from her.

With her claws now drawn, she forces her hand through the Alpha’s back and through his chest.

He can see what looks like silver nails on her claws.

The impact causes him to drop Dean.

He drops on to his back with a hard thud.

The Alpha gags as the poison from the polish is coursing through his veins.

“You really should have taken the deal.” She says. Pulling her hand from his back the Alpha drops dead with a thud. On the concrete ground below.

“Dean!” she gasps. Seeing him not moving.

She rushes to him, cutting him free. She brings her ear to his mouth. He’s not breathing.

“No, no, no. Dean, please.” She begs.

She works him over her shoulder as she get’s him to a more flat surface.

“Dean!” she heard Sam shout.

She laid Dean flat on his back and began doing chest compressions.

“Sam, Bobby, we need to get him help.” She begs as she worked on him.

“Cas!” Sam prays out loud. “Cas, if you hear me please, we need you to save him!”

“Cas!” she adds on. “Please, I can’t lose him!”

“Sam, Y/N.” Cas says behind her.

“Cas, help him.” She begs. Her eyes blurring with tears.

“I will try.” He says.

He places two fingers to his forehead. Only to see limited injuries healed. But Dean took in a deep, much needed, breath.

Cas falls back, weakened.

“I do not have enough grace to heal him completely. My grace has been depleting lately. Once I am fully regenerated, I’ll heal him again.” Cas says.

“Thanks Cas, it’s something.” Y/N says. “Let’s get him home.”

Part 2

What’d you think? Want more? Let me know either by ask or reblog. Remember, feedback is fuel.

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @jayankles, @mlovesstories, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @akshi8278

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 2/8/2021

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listless-brainrot · 3 years

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Could haru theoretically accomplish lavabending

okay i’ve technically already answered this but i think it’s pretty interesting so let me elaborate

what’s cool about lavabending is that we now have a Not LOK Example of it because of the new toph comic! so i can actually use that!

the following will basically be my very loose analysis of sorts, as well as observations and connections to be drawn between haru, tyro, and the lavabending presented in the toph comic. i won’t really be using LOK as a reference, because i want to focus more on lavabending as it applies to the atla timeline, as they’re asking about an atla character, but i do recognize and acknowledge the lok lavabenders (ghazan and bolin i believe?).

i’ll put it under a read more for people who haven’t read it yet as i’ll be including comic pages for reference but anyways! time to answer your question:

Could Haru Theoretically Accomplish Lavabending?

so to start, let me recap the comic briefly-

for those who don’t know, there’s this new character introduced in the toph’s metalbending academy comic named sun who turns out to be a lavabender.

this is important because it shows that lavabending isn’t actually as New as we thought (which is a fair assumption given that our first example of a lavabender was ghazan from lok), it’s just pretty uncommon and this kid just happens to have it, using it during underground the earthbending spats he participates in, as shown below:

[ID: a 4-paneled page from the Avatar: The Last Airbender comic, Toph’s Metalbending Academy. the first panel depicts a hand slamming against the ground, dust swirling around it with a sound effect for emphasis. the second panel depicts an earthbender, sun, wearing green and brown earth kingdom clothing, posed close to the ground, palms pressed against the ground as smoking lines of red lava begin to trail away from his hands. the third panel depicts sun in the same pose as before, standing behind a surging wave of lava loudly erupting from the blackened earth, aimed at his opponent, a man dressed in blue and brown water tribe clothing, who stands in fear with his arms raised. there is a crowd of onlookers watching the two from behind a barrier of steel boxes, all dressed in various green earth kingdom and red fire nation clothing. the fourth panel depicts sun on a red-tinted panel, bearing a focused expression as lava surrounds the outer edges of the panel, illuminating his face from below, highlighting his serious expression. his irises are tinted orange. End ID]

here, we can see one of the techniques used for lavabending- there is heavy use on being connected to the ground, though the actual bending seems to stem mostly from the hands, with the stance fueling the movement. it’s also interesting how the lava comes out in the form of a literal wave that is similar to the “earth waves” we’ve seen before, but in liquid form. though sun is touching the earth, the bending is focused on moving the earth/lava away from him.

probably because, yknow. it’s lava. you generally can’t touch lava. (also, how he hasn’t killed anyone with it, i don’t know, especially given that he apparently can’t control it)

i thought this was interesting, because we’ve seen this “wave” move before; in fact, we’ve seen this technique before:

[Image ID: three screencaps from the episode Imprisoned, from season one of Avatar: The Last Airbender. in the first screencap, four earthbenders on a metal rig, dressed in brown and grey prison uniforms, are shown raising a wall of coal, raising their arms above their head and standing on one leg. there is a pile of coal in the background, which katara is standing on. a small group of more earthbenders watch from a distance. in the second screencap, an old bearded man, tyro, is shown slamming his palms against the floor in a bent stance, one leg poised behind him while kneeling with the other. he is wearing a brown and grey prison uniform, and bears a focused expression, mouth open in mid-yell. his son, haru, who is wearing a dark green headband, as well as another earthbender, are shown standing behind him, dressed in the same prison uniform, palms facing downwards, fingers pointed inward. there are other earthbender prisoners watching in the background, standing near a pile of coal. in the third screencap, a wave of black coal quickly descends upon a group of dark red armor-clad nation guards, with pieces of coal flying off in different directions. the front line of five guards are defending themselves from the flying coal, standing with their arms raised to protect their faces. two of the guards in the back stand in firebending poses, holding a fist out while keeping one arm close to the chest. End ID]

look at tyro- he and sun’s stances are nearly identical! the palms hitting the ground, the same exact stance, the resulting chaotic wave motion of coal. this could very well be chalked up to an earthbending technique copied from the show, but it’s still important to note that tyro knows this, as it’s something directly applicable to lavabending. there is a focus on both body movement, but also hand movement especially, as evidenced by the following comic page:

[Image ID: a singular panel from the Avatar: The Last Airbender comic, Toph’s Metalbending Academy. in this panel, sun is depicted in a bent stance, standing on light brown earth with one foot behind him. he is wearing green and brown earth kingdom clothing. his arms and hands are raised, curling his fingers towards himself as he braces, closing his eyes. red and orange lava flows from the ground below him, surging out like a wave, breaking out of the lower half of the panel. the sound effect “russsh” is behind him, depicted in a similarly red and orange lava-like font, with the top half of the lettering bubbling and rising away. the lower half of the lettering is black, giving it the appearance of cracked lava rock. End ID]

this is another stance we’ve seen before, albeit not in imprisoned. it’s actually on the cover of this very comic, as toph’s standing like this. since we’re talking about haru, though, i won’t include it. but the focus is still the same- raising and pushing the earth/lava away from the user, which haru does a lot of.

my friend @the-hot-zone has already made an EXTREMELY in-depth analysis on haru’s bending style which i will link here, and i highly recommend reading it. it’s entirely supplemental to this, but it does help a lot with understanding where i’m coming from, especially when i mention earthbending and firebending styles.

because i think that, given that haru’s style is so mixed with earth and firebending styles, he could easily pick up lavabending, which is, quite literally, a mix of earth and fire. the control needed to, well control the lava, though, would probably have to be taught by a waterbender, given that lava is a liquid and moves as such, and is known to be hard to control, similar to water.

there’s actually one final point i want to make, though, and this is moreso speculation than anything, so take this at face value:

lavabending is the result of focusing on and tightly compressing earth, which generates friction, thus producing lava.

i know that there are examples of earthbenders manipulating preexisting lava (i.e. kyoshi making kyoshi island) but we see lava being generated within the earth itself, as shown by sun in the above panels. and guess who specializes in compressing earth, specifically earth away from himself?

[Image ID: a set of four screencaps from the episode Imprisoned, from season one of Avatar: The Last Airbender. the first screencap shows haru’s hand on an orange forest background. he is shown levitating two rocks, which spin over his palm. the second screencap shows haru’s hand, now closed into a fist, with sand streaming out of it. the third screencap shows the prison rig, with tyro and haru standing offscreen in front of a pile of coal, bending and compressing pieces of coal that levitate between their outstretched palms. the fourth screencap shows the same as the third screencap, but with the coal solidified into a solid, jagged rock. End ID]

haru and tyro, but mostly haru. we see him reduce solid rock to sand in one hand. we see both of them work together to turn lots of individual coal pieces into a huge solid lump of coal. we can see that they’re capable of compressing earth this way from a distance- who’s to say they can’t go farther? who knows what they can do once they get on solid ground?

so. keeping in mind that tyro uses very similar movements to sun, analyzing how sun’s lavabending technique works, knowing that haru uses similar bending movements as firebenders, and knowing that both haru and tyro specialize in bending compression and manipulating earth away from them, i propose this to answer your question:

tyro could, theoretically, be a lavabender, and there is a high possibility that he could teach lavabending to his son, haru.

i think it would be really neat if tyro was a lavabender, especially given that he’s the leader of haru’s village. they’d probably want a strong earthbender to be in charge- if he was a lavabender, then that adds more to being its protector, given that he led the resistance when the fire nation did eventually come for the village. even when they were “outnumbered ten to one”, as haru put it.

it would be a dangerous skill that the fire nation most likely hasn’t seen before, and would explain all the precautions they take with locking up the earthbenders. in fact, they send six fn guards to arrest haru, a singular earthbender- if they knew he was the son of a lavabender, or that lavabenders existed in the village, it would make sense that they would send so many just to subdue one.

furthermore, tyro teaching haru how to lavabend would be so cool, especially given the techniques haru already knows. he could utilize it in new ways that tyro’s probably never heard of or seen before, especially given that the technique is so rare. haru being able to even learn it also makes sense with this concept- tyro being able to lavabend and then his son also being able to lavabend makes sense.

i might make a separate post on this, solely because i have so many thoughts, but for now, there’s your answer.

tl;dr: yes, i think haru could, theoretically, lavabend. i also think his dad, tyro, could lavabend, and, after breaking out of prison, he would teach this ability to his son.

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galactichelium · 2 years

Note

ahh sorry if this is kinda intruding but i wanted to add my thoughts to your post abt passing as neurotypical. rant following:

i have adhd, and although im unsure if im actually autistic, i do have a lot of overlap w my adhd and i also have other problems like a relatively severe anxiety disorder-- i have inattentive type adhd and ive been masking since a really young age, so we didnt even know i have adhd until fairly recently in the grand scheme of things, which opened my eyes to the reason why i struggled. i struggled (and still do) a lot with homework, focusing, staying on task, but because i present really nt and normal looking and omly struggle when i have no one keeping me on task (like being in a school setting. this was something i realized really impacted me when we had an all remote year.) most people didnt think i needed extra help. and yeah, i am mostly capable on my own, and decently intelligent, but teachers and school staff only cared when it was impacting my school performance. since passing as neurotypical made me appear like a normal, honour roll worthy student, they didnt even wonder if i struggled until my grades tanked during an all remote year, or my separation anxiety spiked during 3rd grade and i left early a lot during the school day. and i guess my point is just, like, it fucking sucks that nd kids who aren't visibly neurodivergent, or function well on their own, are suddenly like..exempt from having help. in 5th grade when i was assigned to the homeroom teacher that often got special ed kids, we were just happy because she was a really nice lady --but secretly i think the school thought i really was special ed, and just didnt have any paperwork, so just to be safe, they put me with an experienced teacher who handles a lot of struggling kids (a precaution made because id had 2 rough years prior). the school seemed really to only bother caring with that once it affected me -- because otherwise i was clearly fine on my own. and i guess partially, like, we just didnt even know i had adhd at the time, but it still sucks a decent deal that all because i looked normal and acted mostly normal, no one even tried doing anything. my brother, when he was a student at the same school, had to be tested for adhd because he struggled with schoolwork -- and then when i came along, (afab), all i was was a good, albeit quiet, student who struggled occasionally.

like. absolutely i think nd folks should be treated as capable -- we totally are! -- but also just. we need help sometimes. and its so sucky that we dont always have access to that, all because we Look Normal. hfhdjfhsh sorry this was really rambly, you dont have to post or answer this ask, i just wanted you to know that like. big agree on your post.

Yeah it's cool don't worry :O!

Seems like we had problems that were similar in some ways but different in others. Like for example, you said your school was pretty sure you needed special ed, whereas my school was the main one insisting that I didn't need it. My parents did agree of course, but you know. Also I was diagnosed with autism when I was 2, so they definitely knew something was up. It was just that later on when I got better at hiding it, they started thinking I didn't need any help. When they saw me struggling, they thought I was just being lazy. I was, up until grade 9, barely passing with my grades, so I guess because I was still technically passing, they didn't seem to think it was anything worth doing something about. I don't even think I present THAT neurotypically, like, I was always bullied for being "weird". But I guess I pass well enough that I was frequently told by adults that I "didn't seem autistic". But yeah, masking is a huge part of it too, which I completely forgot to mention. Masking never completely hid everything for me to be fair (despite my efforts), but I definitely did hide the most autistic parts about myself.

But yeah. I think what went wrong with this line of faux-activism (aside from it Being faux-activism) abled people tried to do was that like... they became afraid of acknowledging that disabled people were still disabled. Like I mean this literally, I remember being told several times that I wasn't disabled, that I was "differently abled". They thought that it was somehow offensive to acknowledge that we struggle with things, due to ableism often being in the opposite direction, saying that disabled people can't do anything. Not to mention, they constantly speak on top of disabled people about their disabilities without even listening to us and think they're helping us by doing so.

#Anonymous #Long post

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refinedbuffoonery · 3 years

Text

Flawless (7)

Con Artist AU. masterlist.

Content Warning: swearing, PTSD, violence, sex

Before we get started here, you all need to know that Flawless will be going on a mini-hiatus. This chapter is the end of my original outline, and I need to spend some time planning out the next plot arc before I write the next chapter.

(Also, shoutout to the lovely humans who translated the line in French. Y’all are the real MVPs.)

Anyway, this is it. The chapter you’ve all been waiting for. The heist. It feels so surreal to finally write it. As always, thank you for coming on this wild ride with me. ❤

*****

In the shadow of its brightly illuminated landmarks, Paris hummed to the tune of debauchery.

Paparazzi gathered around the Louvre’s glass pyramid, waiting to capture a clear picture of a celebrity guest entering the afterparty. Riley shielded her face with her clutch as she walked in, careful to remain unidentifiable in the barrage of photos. The gold buttons on her emerald jacket-dress caught the warm light emanating from the pyramid and the bright camera flashes. She was well dressed, but not enough to stand out. Tonight, Riley needed to blend in.

She ran a hand through her hair, making sure the loose curls covered her earpiece. For the sake of stealth, the team’s comms were skin color, but they were Nikki and Cage’s skin color, not Riley’s.

Riley was half-tempted to throw her comms into one of the fountains out of spite.

She was the last of the Five Eyes to arrive. They staggered their arrivals to avoid being associated with one another, as a precaution. Pulse thrumming in anticipation, Riley bounced on her toes slightly as she waited in line to check in. The Louvre security team meticulously checked each guest’s ID against the guest list; there would be no party crashers tonight.

It had been all too easy for Riley to add the Five Eyes’ cover identities to the guest list a week ago. Now, she handed the stone-faced security guard a drivers’ license bearing her face and the name “Danika Jackson.” Returning her ID with a nod, the security guard stepped aside, allowing Riley to enter the party.

Everyone is responsible for their own entrance and exit. That was her new rule. She got everyone’s names added to the guest list, but her assistance ended there. If someone ran into trouble, it was on them to bail themselves out.

Riley had learned that rule from her mentor when she first dipped her toes into the world of two-faced schemes and nimble-fingered cons, but she never truly understood it—or saw the need to enforce it—until she felt the bite of handcuffs digging into her wrists.

It was a mistake she’d never make again.

Riley strolled through the hallway bearing massive Italian paintings, slowly making her way to the room containing the most overrated painting of all time—and the rendezvous point.

The Mona Lisa room was empty aside from a blonde woman in a beaded, blood-red cocktail dress standing much too close to the glass-encased painting. Riley stood to the woman’s right and studied the painting as well. It was underwhelming.

“You’d think the most beautiful woman in art would be wearing a prettier dress,” Nikki remarked.

Riley snorted, crossing her arms. “Says the woman who just bought a four-thousand-dollar cheetah print pantsuit.”

Nikki feigned offence. “You’re just jealous because you couldn’t pull it off. Anyway, quiz time. What year did da Vinci paint the Mona Lisa?”

“1503,” Riley answered easily. “And the woman’s name is Lisa del Giocondo.” Nikki’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What’s that look for?”

“I didn’t think you actually listen when I talk about art.”

Riley offered her friend a small smile. “I’m always listening to you.” The sound of heels clicking down the hall made them pause. When the coast was clear, Riley murmured, “Is everyone in position?”

“Yeah. Desi and Sam should be inside already, and Jill checked in a few guests in front of me.”

“How did that go?”

“Easy peasy.” Nikki glanced at Riley and softened her tone. “Are we sure Jill is ready for this?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Don’t forget, it was your idea to recruit her.”

Nikki turned back to the Mona Lisa. “You know, you really do suck at pep talks.”

“Oh shut up.” Riley rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you want control room duty?”

Nikki spared her a sideways glance. “I’ll do it. You did it last time.” Her second sentence hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the job gone horribly wrong. And a reminder of all the things they still hadn’t talked about.

Riley brushed it aside. They could talk after they were each forty million dollars richer.

Pulling a flash drive hidden inside an old lipstick tube out of her clutch, Riley instructed, “Plug this in, and it’ll do half the work for you.”

“Thanks.” Nikki put the tube in her own purse. “See you on the other side.”

“Don’t get caught.”

“Don’t get caught,” Nikki parroted, and Riley strode down the hall toward the party.

She followed the pulsing music and the stream of guests to a room in the far corner of the museum, passing the employee door Nikki would sneak into along the way. Crossing the threshold, she couldn’t conceal her gasp. Riley had seen plenty of opulent rooms over the years, but the Galerie d’Apollon was something else entirely. Gold moulding framed the dozens of paintings covering the walls and the arched ceiling. Display cases containing the French Crown Jewels formed a line down the middle of the rectangular room. Despite the party’s couture dress code, the bedazzled guests looked entirely underdressed compared to the grandeur of the gallery.

She only let herself be awestruck for a few seconds before getting to work, marking the exits and security cameras. Riley didn’t like how deep the gallery was in the museum—and how far she would have to walk to make a clean escape with the jewels.

She would be the one walking out with them. No one else. Riley had made that crystal clear during the team planning meeting a few days ago.

Draped in black fabric, the case containing the designer jewelry sat in the middle of the gallery. A security guard stood by it, no doubt to ward off nosey guests wanting a sneak peek.

A wave of nausea passed through her, reminding Riley that the closest thing to a substantial meal she’d eaten all day was the two pastries she ate a few hours ago. She slipped through the crowd with practiced ease, heading for the snack table. Jill was already there, gorging herself on bread and cheese. Eyes wide, the blonde froze as Riley sidled next to her, evidently thinking she was in trouble.

But Riley simply reached for a piece of bread and asked, “Which cheese is the best?”

Exhaling audibly, Jill pointed a manicured, light blue nail. “That one.” Riley tried it. Jill was right; it was delicious.

“You ready, Blondie?” Riley asked, lowering her voice. “There’s no job unless you get this right.”

Jill rolled her shoulders back, snarking, “No pressure or anything.” There was a bite to her words, one Riley noticed only came out when someone, namely her, pushed the blonde a little too far.

“Sorry,” Riley said, and she meant it. “You can do this. Don’t second-guess yourself. Commit.”

Jill merely nodded, swallowing another piece of cheese.

Riley wandered off, not wanting to stay with Jill too long. With her back to a wall, she scanned the room in search of Desi and Cage. When she didn’t see them on her first sweep, Riley furrowed her brow. Where the hell were they?

A bright laugh carried across the room—Cage. There you are, Riley thought. She spied her teammate enjoying the spotlight in the center of a group of models all cooing over Cage’s pale pink dress. It suited Cage, with its billowy sleeves and flowy skirt that hit just below her knees. Cage giggled again, putting her hand on a woman’s shoulder a little too boldly for the gesture to be casual.

Predictably, Desi wasn’t far away, staring daggers at her shameless flirt of a girlfriend.

Riley unmuted her comms. “Easy there, Des. It’s just an act.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” she snapped. Even from a distance, Riley could see Desi’s tight grip on her champagne flute.

Riley cooed, “So jealous.”

The woman wrapped a proprietary arm around Cage, clearly welcome to the blonde’s advances, and Cage beamed at her.

It was enough to push Desi over the edge. “Don’t forget whose bed you’re sleeping in tonight, Samantha,” she snarled. “And I don’t remember agreeing to share.”

Cage excused herself from the group. “My love, did it ever occur to you that I’m making you jealous on purpose? Because we both know—”

Nikki cut her off, rescuing the team from whatever filthy thing was about to come out of Cage’s mouth. “Don’t be gross, you two.” Riley stifled a laugh. She and Nikki had been subjected to many things they didn’t want to hear over the years. This would hardly faze her now.

Focus. They needed to focus.

Riley finally spotted the sharp-eyed assistant she noticed at the runway show. Always two steps behind the designer, the young woman obediently trailed him as he floated from group to group. The assistant finished her drink, setting it on the tray of a passing waiter, and strode toward the main hallway in this wing of the museum.

“I think she’s going to the bathroom,” Jill said. “Do I follow her?”

Snagging a drink of her own, Riley answered, “No. Bump into her when she comes back.” She watched Jill make her way toward the far side of the gallery, ready to intercept the assistant and steal her keys.

Everything was going to plan. Jill just had to steal the keys, and then all they had to do was hurry up and wait for the big reveal. Eight o’clock, Riley was told upon arrival. The designer would commence his speech at eight, then reveal his masterpiece to the world.

Riley checked her watch. Thirty more minutes.

She knew she’d been standing in this spot for too long already, but Riley was loath to give up the relative safety of having a wall at her back. The twinge of fear she’d felt earlier at the runway show came raging to the surface, rooting her stiletto-clad feet in place. Leaving the wall meant having people in her blind spot. No one’s going to hurt me, Riley promised herself. This is a party, not a prison.

Her legs felt like lead weights, but Riley forced herself to re-enter the crowd, one agonizing stride at a time. She made it as far as the nearest display case before she had to stop, and her eyes landed on a tiara resting in the center of the display. Countless tiny diamonds formed flowery swoops and swirls, with a handful of emeralds scattered between them, filling what would otherwise be empty spaces. In the center, the diamonds framed a large, round emerald, mimicking the shape of a flower.

It was exactly what Riley would have stolen had the Five Eyes agreed to rob the Louvre itself, rather than this party. Maybe she’d come back for it, one day.

Using the case as a pseudo-wall, Riley took a deep breath and re-scanned the room in search of Jill. Unsurprisingly, Jill was exactly where Riley had last seen her.

She kept an eye on the recruit, knowing Desi and Cage were doing the same. Riley was impressed; Jill had quickly figured out how to linger without being obvious she was waiting for something. Jill mindlessly pushed up her glasses—the only visible sign of her nerves—and the movement drew Riley’s attention.

But not to Jill.

To another blond head, far behind her. One Riley desperately hoped to never see again.

“We have a problem,” Desi said.

“I saw.”

Nikki’s ex-boyfriend stalked into the gallery, a taller, older man at his heels like a shadow—the same men who chased Riley, Nikki, and Jill through the taco shop a few weeks ago.

Fuck.

Ducking her head to avoid being spotted, Riley hissed, “Nik, get your ass to the control room and lock the door behind you. We’ve got company.”

“Already here. Accessing system controls as we speak. Whoever designed the security system in this place should be fired, because this is ridiculously simple. I should’ve left it in French just to keep it interesting.” A pause. "Who's here? Wait. No. Let me guess. Interpol? The mob? That bitchy designer I once robbed point-blank?"

"Your ex."

"Oh."

"You didn't tell him about our dream job, did you?" The words came out a little too accusatory, but Riley didn't care. She needed to know.

"No! Of course I didn't. He— Look, I don't know why he's here, and we can figure that out later. Right now, you need to keep him busy. He's smart, Riles. Maybe even smarter than you. Be careful."

Riley scoffed. "Smarter than me? We'll see about that."

"I'm serious, Riley."

But Riley ignored her, instead giving instructions of her own. "Cage, you watch Jill. Des—"

"I've got the big one." Classic Desi, never letting her finish a sentence and yet always knowing what she was going to say. The habit was obnoxious at first, but over time Riley learned to appreciate it. "See the bulge on his left side? He keeps touching it." Desi said. "He's armed."

“He’s what?” Jill exclaimed.

Chuckling, Desi said, “Now look at my left side. We match.” A small, terrified squeak was the only response. “Well, what did you think I meant when I told you I’m the team’s exfil specialist?”

“Not that!”

“And Nik’s ex?” Riley asked, redirecting the conversation.

“Seems clean.”

“He is,” Nikki confirmed. “Mac hates guns.”

“You know,” Riley said, studying the larger of the two men, “The other one kind of looks like a guy who dated my mom once.”

“Really?” Desi asked. “Think he’s the same guy?”

Riley took a closer look. He was tall, with broad, muscled shoulders and a buzzed haircut, and considering how often he fidgeted with his tie, he didn’t get dressed up often. He smiled at a passing waitress. He had an open, friendly smile, which totally contrasted with the systematic way he scanned the room. “Nah.”

Jill squawked, “Wait! Are we really still going through with this? Didn’t it just get a whole lot harder?”

“You say harder, I say more fun,” Cage said. “Just stick to the plan. You’ll be fine.”

Jill, it seemed, wasn’t so easily reassured. “Am I the only one who sees this is a trap?”

“It’s only a trap when you don’t know about it. When you do, it’s a challenge,” Riley said.

“But what if the plan goes wrong? Then what?”

At the same time, all four women answered, “Improvise.”

Riley muted her comms as she approached Nikki’s ex; Jill didn’t need the added distraction. Help her, Riley pleaded with the universe. You owe me.

Pushing her concerns about Jill to the back of her mind, Riley studied her target. There was a champagne flute in the spy’s hand, but he didn’t drink it—not even a sip—and his methodical gaze swept the room, no doubt making note of each guest and who they interacted with.

He was cute, she had to admit. Definitely Nikki’s type.

Purposefully not watching where she was going, Riley collided with him, narrowly avoiding sloshing his drink onto her shoes. She pretended to stumble, and his free hand caught her waist, ensuring Riley stayed upright. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Pardon me.”

His hand left her side. Frowning, he asked, “Do I know you?”

Don’t lie. Evade. Her former mentor taught her that.

Riley smirked. “I bet you use that line on every beautiful woman you stumble into.”

“Only when I’m too blown away to say something original.” He winked.

Maybe this would be easier than Riley anticipated. “Care to wander the museum with me while you practice your next line?”

“Normally I would, but I just got out of a relationship, and I’m not looking to start anything new.”

So much for that plan.

His honesty, however, was surprising.

“Not even a little fun?” she goaded, but Nikki’s ex declined once more before excusing himself and vanishing into the crowd.

At least Desi had better luck keeping the other spy occupied. She had him cornered, her body carefully angled to prevent him from seeing the slight bulge from the gun hidden in her dress. The plunging neckline had two purposes—easy access to the gun holstered at her side while providing a distracting view of her chest and intricate tattoos. It was just enough to snag wandering eyes and keep them focused on the front of her body, rather than the side. To the spy’s credit, his eyes remained pointedly fixed on Desi’s face.

“Got the keys,” Jill announced. Perfect timing.

Riley breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work, Blondie.”

Now, all they had to do was wait.

*****

While the designer yammered some pretentious bullshit about fine jewelry as the centerpiece of fashion and art, Riley slowly pushed her way to the front of the crowd gathering for the reveal. A few feet away, Cage did the same. Across from them—closest to the still-covered jewelry display case—Desi and Jill took their places. None of them were particularly interested by the designer’s speech, but Nikki would be hanging on every word if she were here.

The designer rambled on, explaining how particular pieces among the French Crown Jewels influenced the designs of his own work. It was awfully arrogant, Riley thought, comparing his own work to such timeless pieces. The longer he spoke, the more Riley disliked him and didn’t feel even an ounce of guilt for robbing him.

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Nikki’s ex and his partner seemed content to remain out of the way. For all Riley cared, they could stay there all night.

The gallery lights flickered once. A few guests glanced up nervously, but the majority remained transfixed on the designer.

Nikki’s voice crackled through the comms. “Everyone ready? Nod once if you are.” Riley nodded. One by one, so did everyone else. “Alrighty then. Lights out in five…”

Riley counted the number of paces between her and Cage—six.

“Four…”

Paces from Cage to the jewelry case—eight.

“Three…”

Paces from the case back to her original position—ten.

Two…

Closing her eyes, Riley waited.

“One.”

Several women shrieked when the lights went out.

Riley opened her eyes, and before they’d even adjusted to the dark, she strode toward Cage. Six steps. She collided with Cage, dropping her purse on the ground and taking Cage’s identical one, containing replicas of the necklace and earrings.

Cage shouted that someone stole her purse, causing a scene. She’d chatted and flirted with enough people throughout the night for her voice to be easily recognized, and a murmur broke out among the agitated crowd, creating just enough background noise to cover the sound of Riley’s heels clicking on the floor.

Eight steps to the back side of the jewelry display. Riley could just make out Jill and Desi unlocking the case with the assistant’s keys. She braced for an alarm to sound, but there was nothing. Atta girl, Nikki.

Riley opened the purse. Carefully, Desi replaced the real jewels with the fakes, depositing the real ones inside Cage’s purse.

Jill locked the case and replaced the cover, and Riley returned to her original position among the crowd. The designer and his assistant remained oblivious to what transpired behind them, even as Jill slipped the keys back into the assistant’s dress pocket.

“Lights on in three,” Nikki warned.

Emergency lights flickered on, casting a harsh white light over the murmuring crowd. A man angrily questioned what happened, followed by a chorus of “Yeah, what he said!”s in a variety of languages. The assistant urged the crowd to remain calm, promising everything would be sorted out shortly.

Riley looked over her shoulder, searching for Nikki’s ex. He was nowhere to be found. She narrowed her eyes, but with two hundred million dollars worth of jewelry in her hand, Riley decided she didn’t particularly care.

The woman Cage flirted with the longest stepped forward, picking up the purse Riley had tossed near Cage’s feet. “Isn’t this your purse?” she asked Cage.

Riley’s teammate feigned embarrassment, gracefully reclaiming the purse. “Yes, that’s it. Thank you.”

Just as an outraged Cage exclaimed the purse was empty, Riley melted into the dispersing crowd, slowly making her way toward the museum’s exit. That was the plan. She’d leave first, and once she escaped with the jewels, everyone else would exit as well.

Riley retraced her steps, heels clicking on the hardwood flooring of the museum’s endless long hallways. She didn’t look at any of the art as she passed, not even a single glance. Art had always been more Nikki’s thing than hers.

Weaving her way back to the exit, Riley prayed Nikki hadn’t missed any of the cameras. She was supposed to loop them all, allowing Riley to leave the museum unseen. But with each additional camera—some obvious, some not—Riley’s anxiety rose.

Nikki knows what she’s doing, Riley reminded herself. She won’t let anything happen to me.

Two years ago, that reassurance would’ve been enough.

Now, her distrusting brain shot back, Are you sure?

Riley didn’t dignify it with a response.

Passing the museum’s security checkpoint, Riley smiled at a bored-looking security guard. “Vous partez déjà?” he asked.

Riley hoped the security guard asked why she was leaving so soon. She never did get around to brushing up on her French. “Oui, I have a flight to catch.” Not a lie, although the flight wouldn’t take off until early tomorrow morning.

The crisp night breeze prickled Riley’s bare skin. She took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill her lungs. For the first time that night, Riley finally felt her body start to relax. The vast, empty plaza felt so much safer than the packed gallery. Still not safe enough to let her guard down, but safer. Riley slipped her hand into the purse, fingers closing around an earring. It was surprisingly heavy in her palm.

Another flawless job. The Five Eyes were back in business.

She was halfway across the plaza when Nikki started cursing, but Riley didn’t slow. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. The job was done. No turning back now.

There was a distinct male voice in the background, but Riley couldn’t make out what he said.

“What do you mean, ‘I had a feeling you’d be here’?” Nikki demanded. “We haven’t spoken in months, Mac, and I know you didn’t track me here on your own.”

Her ex’s voice was nothing more than a low, indiscernible rumble.

“What?” Nikki whispered, her voice breaking mid-word.

As much as Riley wanted to know what he said, she kept walking. But that didn’t stop the others from hissing Nikki’s name, demanding to know what was going on.

Nikki yelped, and then the male voice purred, loud and clear, “I know you’re listening, Riley. Why don’t we go on that little walk now?”

With a cold laugh, Riley said, “In your fucking dreams.” How did he know her name? As far as she knew, Nikki never mentioned her.

Still, she kept walking. Everyone is responsible for their own exit. No matter what.

Riley muted her comms, and Nikki’s piercing shriek filled her ear. A muffled grunt followed.

Then nothing.

Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.

“Riley, you need to come back,” Jill pleaded. “Nikki needs help.”

She didn’t answer, clenching her jaw with the effort to keep silent. An airplane flew overhead, and Riley tracked its path across the sky. Every step brought Riley closer to her own flight home—and the freedom that entailed. Turning around now would only put that in jeopardy.

But every step also took her away from her best friend. The woman she once believed she’d do anything for.

Jill was overreacting, Riley reasoned. Nikki was more than capable of getting herself out of a bind. Riley lost track of the number of impossible situations she and Nikki had found themselves in over the years, and they always found a way to escape.

“Sam is getting Jill out,” Desi said, slightly out of breath. “Riles, I don’t think I can get Nikki out on my own. Jill is right. You need to come back.”

Riley faltered. If Desi thought there was a problem, then something must’ve gone really, really wrong.

Maybe Jill wasn’t overreacting after all.

“Des—” Cage started. “They opened the case.”

“So?”

“They know the jewels are fake. If Riley comes back, it won’t just be Nikki going to prison.”

Prison.

Riley didn’t think she was breathing. Heart thudding wildly, her stomach tied itself into knots, and her clothes became damp with sweat. The sense of safety she’d felt earlier was gone, and Riley fought the urge to run. Every little noise—traffic, pedestrian chatter, a siren in the distance—was coming for her, ready to drag her into some dark hole she’d never emerge from.

Nothing was logical anymore, like the part of her brain capable of rational thought had gone to sleep. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, trying to wake up, but it was no use.

Run, while you still have the chance, her body screamed.

Everyone is responsible for their own exit, her brain repeated.

She needed to turn around. Nikki couldn’t go to prison.

Two years ago, Riley had gone to prison in Nikki’s stead. She let herself be arrested to protect her friends. Her family.

If Nikki went to prison now, then Riley’s sacrifice would be in vain.

But Riley’s body refused to turn around. Her worst memories from prison flashed before her eyes—ones Riley desperately wanted to forget—like a cougar crouching in the shadows, waiting for the exact moment she was at her weakest to pounce.

She couldn’t go back there. She couldn’t go through that again.

She wouldn’t survive it twice.

“Riles,” Nikki pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Where are you?”

Run, that voice in her head said. Don’t look back.

Her steps were slower now, less sure. But Riley didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

“I need you.”

Save yourself, girl.

“I’m sorry,” Riley whispered, but her comms were still muted. With a shaking hand, Riley unmuted them one last time.

It’s better this way, the voice promised. You’ll see.

It was all too easy to slip into the brutal, emotionless persona she’d built while in prison, the process having become instinct. It was necessary then, to keep her safe and alive. Now, it did the same, preventing Riley from making a mistake every cell in her body knew she wouldn’t come back from.

In a cold, unflinching voice, Riley said, “Everyone is responsible for their own exit.”

She threw her earpiece into a nearby fountain, and the click of her stilettos echoed in the night.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@macrileyedits / @hellishrose / @losingitovermacriley / @mylifequotesshowallofthem / @thecarrieonokay / @holbytlanna /

#beth writes #flawless au #macgyver #macgyver fanfiction #riley davis #nikki carpenter #desiree nguyen #samantha cage #jill morgan #angus macgyver #jack dalton #<- look who's back

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lions-arch-chronicle · 4 years

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Issue 12!

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Title: Update on Orr recovery efforts and risen contianment

Story: The recovery efforts in Siren’s Landing and Orr at large have been progressing slowly but surely after the fall of the elder dragon Zhaitan. Reports that have come in from Botanist Nadir that the fauna growth on the island nation has been progressing in favorable ways slowly reclaiming the land from the risen rot that covers most of the island.“This place. My colleagues see it as barren and lifeless, a graveyard risen from the sea,” said Nadir. “I’ve begun to see it as new life and the promise of a better future, the light of dawn.”Reports from the resident Orrian ghosts say that the numbers of unchained risen have dropped at a consistent rate since the reclamation had begun.Rumors have spread about various organizations beginning to consider eventual rehabilitation of the nation or Orr but none with clear sources or plans to date. With safety precautions and assistance from their fellow Tyrians the reclamation team believe that they can continue toward a restored Orr.

Title: Interview with Boss Lady Courica cause she’s nice

Story: Kuritata: Hey hey hey Boss Lady

Courica: Yes?

Kuritata: Can skritt interview you for story this week?

Courica: Hmm, well I suppose so what is the angle of the story you want to write? Wait, why are you already writing? Are you already transcribing?

Kuritata: Yes yes wanted to show the people boss plant, so skritt is gonna write down everything!

Courica: And you’re writting down everything I’m saying as I say it?Kuritata: Yes!

Courica: That is quite the skill... Alright Kuritata, this will need to be edited for content alright? We probably should include the more interesting parts rather than just our daily conversations.

Kuritata: But how will reader people know all about you?

Courica: Well, most interviews include questions, ah, you didn’t have any questions prepared did you?

Kuritata: ...

Courica: I can see you writing out that ellipsis.

Kuritata: Boss Lady can’t see what skritt is writing if skritt runs away!

Courica: Wait Kuritata! I thought you wanted to do an interview! Where are you going?

Kuritata: To the printers gonna put this in paper just like this!

Courica: Wait! No you aren’t there’s not even an interview there! How on Tyria are you still transcribing this as you’re running?

Kuritata: Skritt is good at job!

Courica: Yes you are! And I’m so very proud of you but I’m begging you to come back here and let me edit this!

Editor’s Note: I was unable to edit this as Mr. Gnashblade was too entertained and requested it to be published as is as Dexsia had taken photos of this event transpiring.

Title: Restraunt Recommendations:The Serrated Blade Tavern

Story: Today on the LAC’s adventures through notable places in Tyria we visited the Serrated Blade Tavern in the Black Citadel. Owned and operated by Barkeep Gallowknot the bar sees plenty of colorful visitors from within the Citadel. There are always wonderful conversations happening within the lively tavern that may potentially get you stabbed if you listen to the wrong conversation a little too obvious but the high-quality spicy moa wings and iron legion ale make that risk worth it. Would recommend just maybe not alone.

Title: The Boasting Hall: In Defense of Snargle Goldclaw

Story: If you have ever met me in person, you probably know that my personal favorite color is a bright, clear blue. Wearing blue tells the people around you that you are honest, earnest, and intelligent, which describes me perfectly, though I would add several traits such as drop dead gorgeous and beloved by all. What you may not know is that I have a second favorite color, and that color is purple. It is a rich and lovely color, and there is nothing wrong with it. So when I hear the phrase “Purple Prose”, as I do so often in relation to my favorite author, Snargle Goldclaw, I do not immediately think it is a bad thing! Sure, too much of a good thing can kill you, but when has a book ever killed someone? (This is not a rhetorical question. If you know of tomes with murderous intent please contact me.) Snargle Goldclaw is a master of what he does. Even if incredible, imaginative, romantic adventures of love and loss are not to your taste, you have to admit Mr. Goldclaw is the absolute peak of his niche, and never afraid to try something unconventional! I mean, Destiny’s Pledge? Classic! Mist Connections? Heartbreaking! If you didn’t cry while reading it I don’t trust you! The Passion of Faren may have been unexpected, but at least he never repeats himself, which is more than can be said for many other romance authors today! In conclusion: Any of Mr. Goldclaws detractors are hereby invited to wail all they want, those of us with TASTE will continue to enjoy his fantastic novels.

Title: Do Verdant Weapons have emotions?

Story: I was spending a delightful weekend in the Grove with a friend of mine, when I decided to do some window shopping. Every place has slightly different ways to arm themselves, so even weapons you can’t wield yourself are worth a look! Not to mention they can truly pull an outfit together. So there I was, shopping around, when I spied someone selling Verdant weapons. Not really my color (I’m more of a winter than a spring), but I had always wanted to know something, so I asked the seller “How often do you need to water these?” He looked confused. “They’re weapons, you don’t water them.” “But they’re plants, surely they need something!” He shook his head. “Ma’am, the weapons will be perfectly fine if you don’t water them.” At this point he had another customer, so I let him be, but it still bothered me. Clearly these weapons are made of living matter, as I don’t know of any plant that stays bright green after it is long dead. But how is it sustained? For that matter, how is it made? Is it grown in a particular way? Molded by a smith? ...Or does it, too, spring from the Pale Tree fully formed? This is perhaps the darkest option. Is a verdant axe alive? Can it feel its body being swung through the air towards the enemy? Does it think? Can it feel hatred? If I was routinely lodged in the squishy body of a risen… Well, lets just say you should be PARTICULARLY nice to your verdant weapons. Just in case.

#Lion's Arch Chronicle #Guild Wars 2 #gw2

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emailmarketingtips21 · 3 years

Text

Emailing strategy: 9 essential steps

Overview

Mailing has always been a complete marketing tool that brings very impressive results to those who know how to use it. By way of example: The revenue generated by B2B emailing increased by 60% between 2019 and 2020. Emailing Strategy is very essential to increase your traffic to your site. In this article, I will show you 9 essential steps. Emailing is 40 times more likely to generate income than social marketing. Now that you know why this is important, let’s go over the decisive points to define your emailing strategy.

What are the objectives of your emailing strategy?

We’ll start by setting goals. Quick reminder, use the SMART methodology: Specific Measurable Accepted Realistic Resources to put in place for your emailing strategy

What makes email a powerful channel is everything that revolves around it and drives conversion: The email itself. The landing page associated with the email. Any promotions or call to action that you can provide to the recipient. This all has a big impact on you in human and financial terms, so think about this before you start. An email that has neither landing nor content that brings value to its recipient has little chance of converting! The segment, the basis of the emailing strategy Each campaign must have a specific target. Segmentation is the key to a successful emailing strategy. If you get to know your interlocutors well, then you will be better able to understand their expectations and speak their language.

So take the time to define your personae, it’s essential. A personalized message has on average 14% more chance to generate a click to your landing and a 10% more chance to convert the recipient.

Tips: To help you know your targets when sending an email, you can use an enrichment API like a supportive or clear bit or block spring. These services allow you to find information about your personae (Twitter account, last name, first name, Facebook account, company…).

Emailing strategy-The 3 possible types of emails Transactional emails: These emails are intended exclusively for customers. They are at the “heart” of the user experience. These emails are there to mark the relationship with your customers.

Example of transactional emails: the welcome email, payment confirmation,….

They play a crucial role in the quality perceived by the user of your service. They are essential for working on loyalty/retention.

Notification emails: Notification emails allow you to send the news to recipients according to your criteria (a particular event, an action triggered by the user, etc.).

One of the most successful examples is the auto-responder ( drip campaign ).

The auto-responders allow you to create sequences of emails according to trigger (= action) activated by the recipient (opening an email, action on your site, no action for x time …)

Example of notification emails: birthday email, new product, request for feedback (NPS), auto-responder …

These types of emails are fully automatable and allow you to work on the retention of your users regardless of their stage of life (prospect, customer, recurring customer, etc.)

Marketing emails or “bulk-email” are incentive emails without action on the part of the customer/prospect.

Example of marketing emails: newsletter, sale …

You can also add cold emails in this category. Email marketing aimed at a population that has not, a priori, specifically requested it.

Emailing strategy-The frequency of sending emails The frequency of sending emails

The frequency of sending emails will affect your ability to convert your prospect or customer. You need to keep the recipient warm all the time so that they don’t forget you, but you also don’t have to bombard them with emails, otherwise, they may run away and make you look like a spammer.

Remember to test different timings, different intervals between your emails. Statistics show that recipients are more likely to read them on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Be careful, I repeat, there is no going back once you are labeled as a spammer, so beware. Read the article on email delivery ability

Email, the heart of the emailing strategy an email has two parts: subject and content, each with its own purpose.

The subject of the email: The object is the first interaction you will have with your prospect or customer. It’s like a first date: you have to be intriguing, convincing, mysterious, and thoughtful. The important KPI here is the open rate.

Here are some tips to increase your open rate: The subject line of the email should be short: 2 to 5 words are enough, you don’t want to say too much otherwise the recipient will have no interest in opening your email.

Then the subject of the email must be intriguing, mysterious: keep a touch of mystery helps to arouse the interest of the recipient.

The subject of the email must include emojis: every day we receive tens or even hundreds of emails for some. So you have to go through the mass, catch the eye in one way or another. An emoji plays this role and the statistics show it. You can boost the open rate by + 20% just by doing this.

The subject of the email must be personalized: if you have usable data on your users: name, first name, or other, do not hesitate to use it in the subject. here are two examples:

One in this email Happy New Year {{FirstName}}

Emailing Marketing strategy-The content of the email: The content of the email

Once you have well defined your subject, all you have to do is work on the content of the email. The important KPI is the click-through rate (CTR).

Here’s the procedure to follow : Personalized: use what you know about your interlocutor, address them directly (you/you: depending on your sector). KISS: Keep it Simple Stupid: keep it short, clear, and above all simple. CTA (call to action): an email equals a goal don’t try to do everything or you won’t do anything. The CTA must be engaging and have a unique purpose. Offer him what he wants: promotion, free content, etc.

Emailing strategy-Avoid images: I know, we tend to think that the more beautiful the better it is, but it is wrong. You have a goal: to click on the link or the CTA to your landing. In addition, the trend is mobile, so you need to have the ability to load the email as quickly as possible for the recipient (images take a long time to load for mobiles). Play on urgency: the offer is only available today. He has to make a decision quickly or he will miss out on a good deal.

If possible put a PS: the subject, the title, and the PS are the three most-read elements in an email. Remember to use the wording, the same offer, in your email and on your landing page.

Tracking & Analysis of the emailing strategy Remember to track your emails, if you use a service like [af_link id = ”526 ″ titles =” Aweber ”target =” _blanck ”] Aweber [/ af_link] then it’s pretty simple everything is explained in the interface of the ‘tool. Otherwise use Google analytics trackers for your links (CTR) and boomerang, banana tag, or other types of tools.

You can now monitor your performance and test different objects, content, frequencies… to find what converts the most. Clean up your base or your strategy will go down the drain!

Some basic precautions to take to avoid ending up in spam : Emailing strategy-Remove duplicates. Retrieve the information available on spam or hard bounce complaints and delete them. Retrieve the email addresses of people who never open your emails, the same for those who never click (during the last 6 months). Send them one last email asking if they are still interested. If you don’t receive a response, delete them. When registering for your email database, it is better (except cold email) to request a double opt-in (confirmation).

To see also-Best Email Marketing Practices for Sending Better Emails

Emailing strategy- Bonus: The moment when the user is the hottest and therefore the most inclined to meet your indirect objectives, is during his registration. So do not hesitate to ask him to fulfill a secondary objective in the reconfirmation email (Sharing on social networks, opinion …) If you liked this article share it, if you have any questions, please do not hesitate: the comments are there for that.

Conclusion: Email marketing is a very powerful tool for a company if there is a well designed and planned strategy. Otherwise, it will become your main enemy when people label a message as spam.

And you, do you run successful email marketing campaigns? Would you add another key to the list?

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dxmedstudent · 5 years

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In your opinion, how would you rank med specialties in terms of surviving an apocalypse? (vector/spread/apocalyptic scenario of your choice)

That’s a funny question. I haven’t thought about it too much, but a quick attempt at such a list might look like: Cope well:

Ortopaedics: good with blunt objects and smashing things. You don’t need to knwo any medicine to fight a zombie apocalypse. They wouldn’t do so well in an infectious outbreak situation, though.

ID: hey, they rule infections with an iron well-gloved fist. Avoiding contamination is second nature to them; what they lack in real world experience they make up for in knowing germs.

Obs and Gynae: you’re gonna need someone who can deliver a baby without breaking a sweat. They have seen things... bloody things and they have no fear.

Radiogists will be locked away in their dark rooms. They won’t even know there’s an apocalyptic scenario happening. Not sure they’d care.

Paediatrics; used to avoiding getting bitten/fending off thrashing toddlers, and fighting off lots of germs brought in by kiddies.

Veterinary medicine. For similar reasons.

Sexual health/HIV: nothing is too gruesome. They understand infection and human behaviour like almost nobody else.

Cope OK

Pathologists: Locked away from clinical areas gives them a certain amount of safety. Very likely to crack some important information that might help get a cure. They won’t even know there’s an apocalyptic scenario happening. But if they do autopsies, high risk of getting infected before they realise what’s happening.

ITU. Super good in the controlled environment of their ITU, and have lots of useful skills. But psychologically would cope very badly with a zombie apocalypse. They might hold their nerve against a more ordinary pathogen, though.

Respiratory. They know germs, they could set you up with some NIV or some fancy masks if you need respiratory treatment or precautions.

Gastroenterology; they are used to body fluids, so not easily fazed.

Palliative care; beware those who deal with death every day.

Oncology; they deal in toxins, and treading the fine line between poisoning and keeping people alive. I am not sure if they’d be as useful with infections as with zombies, but they have no fear of death.

Rheumatology. They might diagnose a zombie with lupus, but they’d probably figure out how to handle it in the end.

Nephrologists; they are used to keeping people alive via machines and dealing with the consequences.

Cope badly:

Surgeons. Yes, they are good with sharp objects, but on a tiny, tiny scale. They like a controlled environment. Likely to confuse a zombie for an anaesthetist and start barking orders.

ENT: great skills on a tiny, tiny scale, but can you imagine placing an otoscope in a zombie? I think not. Might be handy if they can use it as a boomerang.

Opthalmologists ditto.

Anaesthetics. Cool skills, and very useful in a pinch. But can they emotionally deal with the pressure of giving up sudoku and having to, you know, actually run around frantically doing things.

GPs: it’s not that they will cope badly. It’s that their patients bring in ALL the germs, even when they should probably be in hospital. So they’ll no doubt be the first to be infected when someone thinks that their GP can treat ebola with some lempsip and a sick note.

Cardiology. Is anyone having an MI or arrythmia? No. Oh well, too bad, because that’s about all they want to be dealing with. They might be much more useful in any scenario where delivering electric shocks to patients (or zombies) is useful.

Geriatricians: lovely people, but how will they cope with an outbreak killing like 90% of their patients?

Endocrinologists. I don’t know, I can’t see them having any special edge.

Feel free to add to the list :)

#askdx #ask dx #atmeridiem-miger224

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redpandahappypanda · 3 years

Text

**This is a copy of an essay that my step father wrote a few days ago. I find that Alex has a very analytical and nuanced view on these matters. And this is an important issue.**

Jan. 3rd 2020- Jan 3rd - 2021

This was a significant day for me. It was the day we started discussing this new virus showing up in China and the implications of the spread of it. It was a conversation about exponential math and the brutality of that process.

12 months later. to the day, and not only were we right (sadly) but there is another brutal math reality facing us. Let me explain.

Listen, I know this won’t be popular because we’re all still high on the new year magical resolution of a non-covid life again, but the numbers are once again NOT adding up. In fact they are going in the wrong direction faster than this day 12 months ago. Yes, we are in far more peril over the next 6 months than we were 12 months ago.

Put simply, the spread of the disease it outpacing the vaccine efforts exponentially. This is being caused by many factors, not the least of which is no national plan for implementation (only delivery). It’s also being caused by the pandemic fatigue coupled with an unrealistic optimism around the development of a vaccine. This is demonstrated with the record travel over both major holidays. Of course this is also already upside down before taking into account the new “UK Variant” which is thought to spread much much easier/faster.

Put simply, the rate of vaccines (shots in arms) is mathematically dwarfed by the rate of traditional spread of the virus. This number is NOT changing. If anything it’s actually going the wrong way and accelerating. If this trend is futured out it shows that we are still on the path of MAJORITY INFECTION instead of majority vaccination. This only has one outcome. Millions more infected. Hundreds of thousands of more dead. Perhaps millions more effected by long term effects of the virus beyond that.

I would go as far as saying that the existence of the vaccine without a minimally adequate plan for implementation is actually accelerating the spread of the virus and increasing the death count due to the population easing up on precautions because the vaccine is “coming soon”. Well, the vaccine may be coming soon but it’s traveling at 5mph while the virus is accelerating to 100mph.

Look, I’ve already been down this road 12 months ago. I know how people react to bad news and how easily math is dismissed. I’ve heard the “think positive” crowd a thousand times.

So here’s a proposal.

You want to get ahead of the virus… we need an implementation plan that out paces the virus. It’s really as simple as that. A new covid case is found every 3 seconds right now in places like California. You can be damn sure, that shots in arms are not keeping that pace.

So fix it.

Enact a full scale military (FEMA, NG, ARMY,NAVY) medical implementation.

IMMEDIATELY .

We could mobilize full scale medical facilities (tents) in major metro areas in a week or so.

In that facility you need 100 medical troops giving shots.

You need a couple thousand in ‘recovery” rooms where they watch the typical 15-30 min for reactions.

You could watch multiple people for each “observer”. More if you utilize camera feeds.

You could pump out 60,000 shots per day in each facility. (10 hr day)

You need to take over nearby major sports / shopping facilities for parking and then busing patients back and forth.

Organize the demand vs capacity by using ID’s spread the delivery (by last name was example)

You need free up healthcare professionals in the private sector to deal with the emergencies the virus is creating. The delivery of the vaccine doesn’t require the same medical training.

Double the staff… double the output.

Hell, with a smart setup and camera feeds for monitoring, you could up this to 200,000 per day. At that point transportation becomes more of an issue than shots in the arms.

Slow the percentages in major metro areas first and you create extra hospital capacity with weeks.

Once that slows, you use the hospitals and clinics to add to the daily vaccine delivery.

Replicate this setup over multiple metro areas and you double/triple/etc. the implementation.

If you exponentially increase the delivery you then dramatically reduce the uncontrolled spread.

You reduce the uncontrolled spread, you reduce hospitalizations.

Reduce the hospitalizations you reduce the death counts.

It’s math.

It was always math.

It’s still math.

And I am here, 12 months to the day from when we started preparing for this, and I see the same Math being ignored. The numbers are in the wrong direction, and accelerating again in the wrong way.

This is fixable. It is absolutely doable. But it won’t happen unless some “ONE” entity coordinates it. If you don’t have someone coordinating its just a bunch of people running around chasing the emergency of the moment and ultimately losing.

There is your positive thinking.

But math says, if the spread outpaces the vaccine delivery then more spread means more exposure and the pace increases while the vaccine falls further behind.

Want to fix it?

There is a way.

Meanwhile… reality says we look like we are in for a much rougher spring than last year unless someone gets these numbers under control.

That ends Alex's words.

The next is my own. The take away from this is: our job as responsible citizens is not done.

I want to warn. To advise. This vaccine is a wonderful tool. But it is not the magical bullet that ends the pandemic. Social distancing, quarantine, wearing a mask, STAYING HOME whenever and where ever possible is still massively important. This is our new normal folks, for the foreseeable future. Wearing masks; having adequate access to healthcare and vaccinations; giving each other space; smaller capacities in public spaces is (should be) our norm now. Put pressure on your friends, family, colleagues and most importantly your political representatives, to do the right thing.

And here is the rub. This is not going to be the last pandemic in our lifetimes. Covid-19 and its new viral strains are not going away. We are more likely than ever to see more deadly viruses to pop up.

The after-effects of this virus are going to be far reaching; socially, politically, physically. We need to acknowledge that, the sooner the better.

#in which panda rambles #Guest speaker #covid mention #Please for the love of god wear a mask and STAY HOME

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lilysilver2722 · 4 years

Text

Positively Negative

Master List

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Angst

Word Count: I,524

Request: Suga scenario when his girlfriend’s friends or sister called to tell him that his girlfriend is at the hospital (she didn’t know she was pregnant).

Summary: Not all news is good news, not every test is a positive score. Sometimes all it takes is one negative test to tell you all you need to know about what you want for the future.

A/N: I’ve recently been reminded of some not so amazing aspects of pregnancy, and while the request was vague in terms of what kind of way to approach this topic, I’m using it as an opportunity to explore miscarriage and child loss. This scenario discusses some not so easy topics or nice topics and could be uneasy for some. Please read with caution and an open mind.

Dedication: To all the little angels out there, the little hands and feet who now have wings – know that here on Earth you are still loved and remembered eternally and to all the mothers out there of those little angels.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

Yoongi groaned, glaring over at his phone as it continued to light up and ring despite it being the fourth time he’d ignored the caller. Whoever it was they were incredibly persistent and Yoongi swore that if it wasn’t an emergency he’d personally break the caller’s phone for having the audacity to call when he was in the studio.

“What?” He growled into the receiver without looking at the ID.

“Oppa?” Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat, but then it dawned on him that the eerily familiar voice didn’t belong to you, but to your younger sister.

“What is it, Min Ji?” Yoongi asked in a softer tone, knowing that your sister wouldn’t call unless she needed something – while her definition of ‘need’ was usually different than what Yoongi would prefer, he found it endearing that the younger girl came to him for a lot of her questions and random thoughts. It was something she only did with you for the longest time, but when she realized that Yoongi indulged even the strangest conversations with you it opened a new door of communication between them.

“Oppa,” Min Ji’s voice cracked slightly over the line and she was silent long enough for him to pick up some of the background noises.

“Min Ji, where are you? Is everything okay?”

“Oppa, please hurry, it’s Unnie, she’s – we’re in the hospital Oppa.”

Yoongi didn’t even know how he managed to get to the hospital so quickly. He didn’t even wait for Min Ji to finish her sentence of which hospital before he was already in his car, his shoes thrown on the passenger seat, his foot hit the accelerator harder than necessary as he raced to the hospital Min Ji rattled off to him before hanging up.

You were in the Emergency Room when your sister called and despite the fact that it took Yoongi less than five minutes to get there with how quickly he drove Min Ji had managed to text him and tell him that you were on the third floor for observation.

Heart pounded the entire way from his car in the parking lot up to the hospital doors, the rush of blood that drained from his face as his mind wandered to what happened, what caused your sister to bring you to the hospital that you ended up in the Emergency Room in the first place. Sure you were in a regular room now, but that didn’t take his mind off of the fact that you were not only admitted to a hospital, but you had been in the Emergency Room. The last time you were here – no, don’t think about that, Yoongi chided himself mentally.

Too impatient to wait for the elevator to arrive Yoongi took the stairs three at a time to the third floor, coming to a halt outside of the stairwell into the waiting area for the third floor. Rooms and Maternity wing were on this floor, Yoongi checked his phone again for the room number you were in before looking around at the signs pointing him in the direction to you.

“Oppa!”

Yoongi turned, his features tight, and caught sight of Min Ji rushing towards him a young woman in a white coat staring after her a clipboard in hand.

“Min Ji, where is Y/N?”

Min Ji’s face fell slightly, “The doctor wants to speak to both of us before we go and see her.”

“She’s okay,” Despite Yoongi’s straight face his voice broke slightly as he spoke the words, fear creeping up behind his dark eyes as he stared at the young woman before him who was just as much his little sister as she was yours. He could see the fear written plainly across her face and didn’t want to add to her fear with his own.

“Are you Mr. Min, Ms. Y/L/N’s guardian?” A woman’s soft voice filtered across his hearing and Yoongi’s head snapped up to look behind Min Ji to the woman in the white coat. His gaze flicked down to read the name on the coat. Dr. Park Yoo Na, OBGYN.

“Yes, Doctor Park, I’m Y/N’s guardian, how is she? Can you tell me what happened?”

Doctor Park smiled kindly her dark eyes fell to check the chart on her clipboard and out of curiosity, Yoongi glanced down as well seeing your name across the top. “Y/N was here in the ER a few weeks ago with stomach cramps, correct?”

Yoongi swallowed the lump that had lodged itself in his throat while she was speaking, her eyes still on your chart in her hands. “Yes.”

She nodded her head, her brows knit together softly, “And they performed a pregnancy test as a precaution, correct?”

Yoongi’s anger got the better of him, the fear eating him up on the inside at all the endless possibilities of what happened to you to cause you to be here today and the doctor was only concerned with what happened nearly a month ago.

“Mr. Min?”

Yoongi snapped out of his thoughts and his dark gaze met the deep brown of the concerned doctor before him. “I’m sorry Doctor Park, but I have absolutely no idea why my girlfriend is currently in the hospital. Min Ji-” He gestured to your sister standing next to him. “Didn’t tell me what happened on the phone and frankly, at the moment when I found out that the woman I love was in the hospital all I cared about was getting here to see her. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to tell me what the hell happened and if she is okay or not.”

Min Ji’s eyes widened as she stared back and forth between Yoongi and the doctor, the latter of the two who thankfully seemed un-phased by the outburst.

“A few weeks ago when you brought Ms. Y/L/N in to see us in the ER the pregnancy test came back negative. An ultrasound of the abdomen was issued and blood was drawn for testing.” Doctor Park paused, gauging Yoongi’s reaction to her words. “Did she not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“She was pregnant.”

Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat at the news. His thoughts immediately went to your random bouts of stomach sickness and your constant waving it off as having eaten something that didn’t sit well with you and not to mention your constant mood changes – one, in particular, the time the mail carrier dropped off a package for you and you cried. Then –

“What do you mean by was?”

Doctor Park’s eyes light with empathy, her lips parting as she glanced back down at the chart unsure how to continue.

“She had undergone the beginning stages of miscarriage when you two arrived at the hospital, there was no heartbeat when the ultrasound was done, but it was clear in the sonogram pictures that she was approximately four or five weeks along.

“The attending OBGYN and physician suggested a DNC be scheduled at a later date if the need should arise-”

Yoongi’s ears shut down, he didn’t understand the last half of what the doctor was talking about, he didn’t know what a DNC was, and he didn’t even know they had found anything in your tests. Sure you were an adult, he was your guardian, but that didn’t mean that the doctors automatically told him what was going on. You had assured him that everything was fine, just severe cramping from your period – worse than usual, but nothing to be concerned about. Yoongi had never considered questioning the doctor on his own because he trusted you, if you said there was nothing to worry about then there was nothing to worry about.

Yoongi found his feet moving while the doctor was still explaining what happened, but he no longer cared, he needed to see you. He needed to ask you why you kept something like this from him, he loved you – you knew that you should know that.

He burst through the closed door with a loud bang, his dark gaze finding you lying on the bed, head turned towards the windows – you didn’t even flinch when the door actually hit the wall behind it before rebounding. Yoongi’s anger dissipated as he took in the lost expression clearly written across the pallor of your skin – skin that was normally bright and slightly pink. He shut the door a little more quietly than he had opened it, his feet did not hesitate as he crossed the short space to get to your bedside.

Neither of you said a word as Yoongi slipped under the light cover to join you on the bed, his body easily curling into the arch of your back, his face nuzzled into the juncture of your neck, his arm wrapped firmly around your middle. You flinched slightly when his hand made contact with the slight swell of your abdomen – had he really been working that much not to have even wondered?

“I love you,” Yoongi mumbled into your soft skin.

“I love you,” You replied, cold fingers gripping onto his as you both lie there in silence.

#bts yoongi #bts suga #bts suga fanfic #suga angst #bts angst #suga scenarios #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #yoongi angst #lilysilver #lily writes #masterlist

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samlicker81 · 4 years

Text

Lucky | Part 3

Sam X Reader

Summary: You’re unlucky in love when you find a lost wallet outside a bar and are smitten with the photo on the ID inside. Could your luck have turned, or have you found yourself in the middle of something unfortunate?

Warnings: Canon-level violence, cursing

Word Count: 2K

Series Masterlist

You’re over being sad. Now you’re just angry. You’re overwhelmed with the feeling as you tug on the handle of your car door. It’s three in the morning, eight hours into your 12-hour shift, but your supervisor happened to be a nice one today and let you go early.

It’s unfortunately fairly common for Brandon, one of the RNs, to casually harass you at work. But after the events of last night and the ongoing self-pity party you’ve been throwing lately in honor of your love life, it was just one suggestive joke too many for you.

You turn on the first loud rock playlist Spotify has to offer, without scrutiny, before pulling out of the hospital parking lot. You do your utmost to allow the first deafening song to drown out your thoughts, but your mind flashes regardless. Mister grab-ass at the bar; Brandon, who you’re sure can see the line but continues to cross it, catcalls, lingering eyes, and Greg. Beautiful Greg.

His transgressions hurt the worst. Not just because of how glaringly horrible his actions had been, but because you actually liked him. Everything was clicking the day in the library. You had even started believing that you were meant to find that wallet. Like you actually had gotten lucky. And during the show you had inadvertently given him, it was his hands on your body that you’d pictured. Your stomach turns at the thought and you click the volume up a few notches.

By the time you pull up in front of your apartment, your anger has pretty much spent. You’re feeling the exhaustion from the late hour, your eight hours of work, and the adrenaline crash your rage has left behind. You slump up the steps and deposit your keys on the counter inside your dark apartment. You don’t bother with the lights as you shuffle down the narrow hallway to your bedroom. You fling yourself onto your bed, kicking off your ugly, practical shoes. Your ears still ring a little from your car radio, but your head feels clear enough as you close your eyes to sleep.

A thud against your door jerks you violently from a deep sleep. A few slightly quieter thuds follow rapidly as you untwist yourself from your comforter. A peek at your watch tells you that you haven’t even slept an hour as you race to your door. Flipping on the lights, you swing the door open and the figure on the other side practically falls against you.

The first thing you notice is the blood. A lot of blood. The petite woman before you is panting and shaking and gripping at the front of your scrubs with her blood stained hands. You can’t make out where it’s all coming from. You’re still frozen in shock as she looks up at you with dark, panicked eyes. Strands of her black, chin length hair are plastered to her face with blood.

“Oh, you’re a nurse. Thank god. Please help me.” She pants out hoarsely. Your instincts take over. You take her elbows and her fingers loosen on your shirt front. Guiding her by her elbows you lead her to a dining chair on the other side of the counter. Once she’s settled, you quickly run back and turn the deadbolt. You hope with every fiber of your being that whoever did this to her is not close behind. For extra precaution you flip all the lights off before hurrying back to the girl. She had begun sobbing loudly into her hands.

“Shhh, we have to be quiet. Take some deep breaths,” whispering, you kneel in front of her and put one gentle hand on her denim clad knee. She keeps her face buried, but she works to stifle her cries.

“I need to go grab some first aid supplies, okay? I’ll be right back.” She nods shakily. “Put pressure on your wound if you can,” you add before leaving her and rushing down the hall to your bathroom. You grab the organized bag from your linen cabinet and a few towels. You sweep by your bed as well and grab your phone off your nightstand to call 911. As you swing around the corner again, you stop, staring at your secondhand dining set.

It’s empty.

You don’t get a chance to form your next thought before the world goes dark.

Your head throbs and you wish you would just fall back asleep. But as the pain in your skull begins to pull you slowly from the deep, some other realizations bring your consciousness into focus with a speed that makes your head reel.

First is the cloth trapped between your teeth. The gag is tight, pressing into your tongue, making it nearly impossible to swallow. Second is the similarly tight binds around your hands, which are fastened behind you around some kind of pole that presses between your shoulder blades. There are several loops around your waist as well that hold you tightly to it. It feels cold and metal on your spine. Then you feel the coolness of the floor through the thin cotton of your scrub pants. A smooth concrete, you decide, sliding your socked feet against it. Next, you feel the tickle on the back of your neck where blood continues to trickle from the pulsing point in the back of your head. And lastly, you realize that it’s not that your eyes haven’t adjusted, it really is pitch black around you.

Your heartrate speeds as panic rises in your chest, causing your head to pound even harder. You groan, fighting nausea.

“She’s awake.” You can’t pinpoint how near the whisper is with the darkness and the dizziness.

“Shhh, it doesn’t matter,” a male whisper replies. Two voices. The sound of the first voice stirs your memory with a sharpness. The small dark-haired woman covered in blood flashes in your head. She’s here too, and alive. You attempt to stretch your fingers against your bindings. No wonder she was so afraid. Whoever has you both is more than just some angry, heavy handed boyfriend. “Quit staring at me like that, I won’t change my mind,” the man’s voice snaps. Where are they? You can’t see light coming from anywhere. They sound close.

“Come on, I couldn’t wipe off the smell of all that blood and it’s killing me. I don’t see the big deal.” It’s her again. She isn’t gagged? Her casual tone doesn’t make any sense. Neither do the words she’s whispering. You hear shuffling and then the wet sound of lips meeting. She giggles, “Come on, Mark. Together.” You barely hear her whisper.

The confusion doesn’t stop the ice-cold fear from flooding your veins. Whatever the details, you’re alone, not a co-abductee. They kiss again and Mark groans, but it sounds more in pleasure than protest. There’s shuffling again. Then footfalls growing nearer. You can hear your own heart drumming in your ears. The blindness is terrifying.

“Please. Don’t hurt me,” are the words you try to choke out, but the cloth pressing against your tongue makes it incomprehensible. You curl your knees into your chest. Her laugh is cold.

“I love it when their hearts sound like that.”

You gasp through your nose when there’s suddenly shuffling behind you and your hands fall free. Your waist is still secured tightly to the pole, but what feel like the man’s hands lifts your right arm up. His grip is strong. You wouldn’t have been able to pull away even if you’d had time to before you feel a sharp pain across the inside of your wrist. By the time you cry out in pain, he’s already pressing over the fresh wound.

It’s his mouth. He’s sucking at it.

Your wrist burns, but the rest of you is frozen in fear. They’re crazy people. Some kind of fucked up cultists or something.

He’s only latched to you for a few seconds before he pulls away, panting.

“Careful, her heart is pumping it fast.” He grunts as the girl’s smaller hands take over. Her mouth fastens on quickly.

You realize your other hand is lying beside you limply, free. She’s small. You could maybe detach her from your arm. The pull of her mouth at your wrist is stronger than Mark’s and your dizziness is growing. You don’t want to die without fighting.

The fingers of your left hand on the floor just barely twitch to close into a fist when his boot slams down. You swear you can hear your fingers crunch against the concrete as your muffled scream pierces the darkness. The pain sets your heart racing with a new fervor and the faintness sets in quickly.

“Clara, you’re draining her.” His voice sounds far away. Your arm falls heavily on the floor before you lose consciousness again.

You can’t tell how much time is passing as you drift through varying depths of consciousness. It could be minutes or days. You don’t fight going under; it’s a much preferable alternative to fear and pain. The reprieves are shortening though, your body maintaining enough strength to keep you awake, even though you wish it wouldn’t.

To avoid contemplating your imminent death, you focus in around yourself again. It’s still pitch black, but a faint conversation can be heard somewhere in the darkness. You can’t make out words, but you decide you can hear somewhere between five and seven distinct voices, including Mark and Clara.

The voices abruptly stop and then one of them hisses like a cat.

“I told you they would come.” The male voice doesn’t bother whispering. A flurry of activity begins around you, footsteps moving in all directions. A pair move closer to you.

“It’s showtime,” Mark growls, cutting the new ties binding your forearms, along with the ties at your waist. He hoists you over a shoulder in one quick motion. You see stars. Keeping nausea down takes all your focus as his quick footsteps jostle you around. Your eyes are finally taking in small amounts of light, but you’re moving too quickly to see anything.

Mark stops suddenly. Your eyes focus.

He’s stopped in front of an empty doorway. You turn your aching head. There are several figures standing beyond it, crouching in defensive positions. The moon is bright to your light starved eyes. How is it still night?

He snaps his head down the corridor that he’d been running down and then back to the action in front of you.

“Fuck it,” he spits, dropping you in a heap to the floor. You grunt loudly when your chin hits the concrete, not quite able to catch yourself with your unbroken hand. “Move and I kill you,” Mark whispers, crouched down and staring out the doorway. The darkness around you still shadows the details of his appearance, but you can tell he’s at least twice your size.

You follow his gaze.

From this position, a box truck blocks most of your view, but you can see feet in a strip between the wheels. There are six pairs all pointed to the left, and two pointed back at them.

“You have nothing to offer. She isn’t a bargaining chip, she’s bait. And then she’s the victory meal after I kill you,” a man shouts, and several other voices hiss and snigger. He can’t be talking about you, right? Who would you be bait for? You can’t think for long as the word “meal” settles in.

“I like my chances,” chuckles the owner of one of the two pairs of boots to the left.

Two figures from the right side rush forward immediately, another two on their heels. Mark stiffens beside you. There’s a mixture of grunting, hissing, and blades slashing. Something thuds on the ground and rolls. You squint and see two eyes, frozen wide, staring back at you. Blood pools around the stump of the neck, soaking long blonde strands of hair. You snap your face away from the disembodied head, your stomach heaving dryly. Mark doesn’t notice your movement. He’s on his feet as the battle continues raging.

“Clara!” he yells desperately. Then he’s running away from you.

You’re alone.

You push yourself up to your feet as fast as your damaged body will let you. You shuffle over to the back corner of the truck and peer around it. Just on the other side of the gory scene before you is a junkyard of cars, and beyond that, woods running alongside a road.

You set your sights on the nearest car and run.

#we'll be getting to sammy dearest soon #Sam Winchester #sam x reader #SPN #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #fanfic #series

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dragonfics · 5 years

Text

What’s in a name?

Chapter 1: Patient twenty-two

Ship: Spicyhoney

Tags: Doctor Rus, patient Edge, LV issues, discrimination, dehumanisation, asylum-style setting, institutional captivity, forced institutionalisation, needles, minor medical procedures, unethical medical practice, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Rus's work is... delicate. He wants to help his patients. He truly does. But at what point does being a doctor of LoVe-afflicted patients become unethical? How far is he willing to push his morals? Perhaps further than normal, depending on who he's pushing them for.

Notes: Another WIP to add to my collection! Please read the tags (particularly note the forced institutionalisation one, it’s a pretty strong theme through the fic). If you’re down for some angsty Spicyhoney with eventual hurt/comfort though, then please enjoy!

Read on AO3

Below the cut

The facility was a good hour’s drive from the city, so Rus was grateful when the large concrete building finally emerged on the desert horizon. The sky was still red, the sun just peeking over the rocky mountains to the east. Dust swirled up around his car as he pulled to a stop at the tall metal gates. The fence that bordered the facility was at least ten feet high, with barbed wire curling over the top. Rus rolled down his window to greet the security guard stationed outside the gate. She put down her coffee mug and nodded at him. “New around here?” she asked as Rus handed over his ID card.

“i was just transferred from the training facility.”

She punched a few numbers into her computer and lifted a brow. “Doctor, huh? Good luck.”

“uh… thanks.”

“Give me your thumb, we just need to do a mana test to ID you.” She pricked Rus’s thumb, drawing a small bead of marrow, which she dripped onto a thin square of tissue. Rus waited, turning up the air conditioning in the car as her computer processed his mana. She gave a satisfied nod, shooting him a smile. “All clear. Have a good day, Doctor.”

The gates swung open with a groan and Rus drove into the facility. It was little more than a big block of concrete, the windows all barred. Rus parked in the area labelled ‘staff’ and climbed out. He pulled on his coat and crossed the parking lot to the entrance, his white sneakers quickly turning red with dust. The smell of baking dirt was already hot in the air.

The sign outside the lobby read ‘SANCTUARY FOR AFFLICTED MONSTERS’ in big black letters. Rus scanned his ID card and the doors slid open. The lobby was sharp with disinfectant—stronger than what he was accustomed to from the training ward, and it burned his nasal cavity. There was a lizard monster sitting at the reception desk, her horn-rimmed glasses balanced on her long nose. She didn’t look up when he approached, and he cleared his throat. “hi there. uh, i’m a new transfer. i was told i’d be starting on ward d?”

“ID card?” the woman said, her eyes still fixed on whatever she was writing. “And sign this timesheet for me, please.” She pushed a clipboard and pen across the counter. Rus scribbled his details onto the sheet, then fished his ID out of his pocket and handed it over. She scanned it and glanced at her computer screen. “Ward D. Down to your left at the end of the hall. Then make a right. You’ll need to check in with security there.”

“security?”

The woman looked up at him over the top of her glasses and smiled. “Extra precaution for the ones with higher LV.”

Rus swallowed, tucking his satchel under his arm. “right... of course. thank you.” He turned and walked down the hall, scanning his card again to get through a set of double doors. The air was cooler inside the ward, almost too cold, and the lights were stark white. Nurses and doctors passed him as he walked, pushing med carts and carrying clipboards. The curtains were drawn over every door, so Rus couldn’t see inside, but on the patient sheets outside was written their species and LV.

In the first hallway, there was nothing over three. But when Rus reached the next one, the numbers started to creep up. He passed an empty room with the door cracked open, and dared a glance inside. There were cuffs chained to the wall, which had scratch marks gouged into it.

When he reached the hallway pointing towards ward D, he came to a halt. The sign directed him towards a set of sealed metal doors with a keypad and various other electronic locks. Two guards were stationed outside. Well. The receptionist had mentioned security. They looked up as Rus approached. “ward d?” he asked, almost hoping they’d tell him he was in the wrong place. To no avail. They nodded and scanned his ID card again, then patted him down and checked his satchel. One of them clipped a small red button to his coat lapel.

“Any trouble and you press this, got it?” Rus nodded, swallowing thickly. They told him to collect extra tranquilisers from the storage cupboard inside. “Look for Sonya. She’ll sort you out.” They punched a series of digits into the keypad and the doors rumbled open. Rus walked through and they sealed shut behind him. The air suddenly felt a lot heavier.

This ward had a very different atmosphere to the others. The hallway was messy, med carts pushed haphazardly against the walls to make room for the nurses and doctors scurrying between rooms. Rus stepped aside quickly, narrowly avoiding a nurse who was dabbing at a dark ichor on her scrubs. For all the mess in the hallway, there were very few staff around. The eerie quiet was stirred by distant whimpering and a faint muttering Rus couldn’t make sense of. He realised it was coming from one of the rooms, and didn’t linger long enough to try and figure out what the strangled voice was saying.

More than anything, the air reeked of LV. Static prickles across Rus’s bones which made his mana tingle. It was heavy and oppressive, and Rus’s soul pulsed erratically. They’d attempted to emulate the effects of LV on the training ward, but it had been nothing like this. The highest LV patients they’d allowed them to work with in training had been five. It didn’t take a trained doctor to realise that the patients here were well beyond that.

Rus sagged with relief when he found the ward’s reception. The ward clerk was rummaging through a box of folders, her feathery green tail poking out from behind the desk. “sonya?” Rus asked. She turned around, assessing him with small black eyes.

“Ah, new guy, right?”

“rus.”

“Yep. Gimme a second.” She scanned the shelf behind her and pulled out a yellow file. “Okay, okay… we’ve got you starting on room twenty-two, but you’ll be covering at least four patients once we know you’re competent.” She lifted her wing in a sweeping gesture. “As you can tell, we’re a little understaffed.” She flipped over the page of her folder. “You’ll be with Jackie. I’ll go find her, wait here.” She hurried off down the hall, her tail feathers fluttering.

Curiously, Rus peered at the folder she’d left open on the desk. A patient was listed. ‘Patient twenty-two’. There was no name, only a small photo of a gaunt looking skeleton with dark sockets and red eye-lights, and a deep crack down one side of his face. The photograph was faded, and folding in at the corners. Underneath, it listed his details.

Patient twenty-two

Species: Skeleton

LV: 13

Rus’s chest seized and he stopped, rereading the number to make sure he hadn’t made a mistake. It glared back at him aggressively.

There was a crash behind him as one of the doors flew open. He spun sharply, pressing back into the desk. Three nurses were dragging a muzzled and chained wolf out of one of the rooms. The monster was snarling and struggling, saliva spilling from behind his muzzle, his yellow eyes bloodshot. “Give him another shot of tranq,” one of the nurses said, shockingly calm. Another nurse jabbed a needle into the wolf’s arm and he gradually went limp. They pulled him down the hall and through a set of double doors.

“You’ll get used to that.” Rus jumped, spinning to see Sonya returning with a nurse in tow. She was a rabbit monster, her long ears flattened beneath a medical cap. “This is Jackie. She’s been on patient twenty-two for the past few weeks.”

Jackie waved a soft grey paw. “Hiya.”

“We don’t like to switch our staff between patients too often on this ward,” Sonya said, sitting back in her chair and arranging the folders on her desk. “It can unsettle them. So you’ll just be with twenty-two for now, and then—”

“i’m sorry, but—” Rus cleared his throat as she looked down her beak at him. “i think there may have been some mistake.”

She crossed her arms. “Mistake?”

“i—i’m fresh from training, so i’m only meant to be working with patients under ten lv. this one is listed as thirteen.” He tapped the folder on her desk.

“Darling, this ward is ten and up only. Why do you think we have all this security?”

There was a sick feeling in Rus’s chest. “ward d?”

“D for danger,” Jackie muttered, receiving a sharp look from Sonya.

“Look,” Sonya sighed. “To tell you the truth, you were probably sent here because we’re understaffed. We need every extra set of hands we can get.” She frowned. “If you really want out, I can probably see if they can transfer you to a different ward. But we could really use another doctor here.”

Rus glanced around at the messy hallway. A tired nurse was leading a vacant looking monster into one of the rooms, guiding him gently. He thought of his training, why he’d taken this job… “i—” He shook his head. “no, no it’s alright.”

“Good. Jackie, show him to room twenty-two. Just a check-up, a few samples, same routine.” She handed Rus a copy of the patient’s medical transcript. “Enjoy.”

After depositing his bag in the break room and collecting a few needles of tranquiliser from storage, Rus followed Jackie through the hallway, reading over the patient’s medical sheet. “he’s on a very high dosage of suppressants,” he said, trying not to flinch when a shriek rang out from one of the rooms. Jackie kept walking, as if oblivious.

“Yep. He’s got high LV.”

“high enough for a max dosage?”

Jackie shrugged, hopping over a set of cuffs abandoned outside one of the rooms. “It’s the same with most of the monsters here. Once you get past ten LV it gets kinda hard to calculate how much they need. So docs just give them the max. Or thereabouts.”

Rus frowned, flipping over to the next page. “high risk of violent outbursts?”

Jackie laughed. “They write that on everyone’s sheet in this ward. Wait until you meet him.”

They came to a quieter end of the ward and stopped outside a door labelled ‘22’. The patient sheet on the door was the same as the one Rus had glimpsed in the clerk’s file. Jackie knocked firmly. “Hey twenty-two, it’s Jackie.” Her use of the number struck Rus unexpectedly, and he glanced at her, waiting for her to reveal it as a joke. She didn’t. He followed her inside after she scanned her ID card.

The room was plain, white walls, white sheets on the bed. No cuffs on the wall, but the bolts remained. There was a bookshelf tucked in the far corner beside the window, though the collection was sparse.

The patient was sitting in a shabby green armchair in front of the window, with a book in his lap. He was wearing the same white and grey striped jumpsuit Rus had seen on the other patients, though it looked too loose on his bony frame. The shadow of the bars crossed his gaunt face as he looked up. In the photograph he’d looked fierce, but here he was almost vacant, his bright eyes dim and washed out, his bone discoloured. His gaze wandered over Rus briefly before he returned to his book.

“hello,” Rus said, approaching cautiously. “my name is rus. i’ve been assigned to you, so i’ll be your doctor from now, if things go well.” Jackie wheeled in the med cart and Rus glanced at his patient’s sheet. “we’re just going to start by doing a routine check-up. is that okay?”

The patient glanced at him, his mouth twitching with faint amusement. “If I have a choice, then no.”

Rus swallowed and looked uneasily at Jackie, who rolled her eyes. “Well, you don’t. Come on, twenty-two, he only just finished his training. It’s his first day. Go easy.” Rus almost wanted to point out that telling a patient it was his first day probably wasn’t encouraging—especially a potentially unstable patient. But the patient—twenty-two—only smirked.

“First day, huh? I thought you looked a little young to be a doctor.”

Rus smiled pleasantly, pulling on his gloves. “i’m not.” Jackie handed him a mouth mirror and he crouched in front of the—in front of patient twenty-two. Mana rushed through his ear canals but he breathed evenly. “open up, please.”

“We’ve only just met,” twenty-two said, but he followed the instruction. Rus surveyed the inside of his mouth.

“teeth slightly discoloured.” Jackie scribbled on her clipboard. “magic inside the mouth is faded, but otherwise normal.” He withdrew, placing the mirror on the tray. “thank you,” he said, smiling at twenty-two, who didn’t return it. He took his temperature next and told Jackie the reading. “high above average, but normal for his lv. i’m going to do a swab of your mouth now,” he told twenty-two, taking a cotton tip from Jackie. The patient kept his mouth open, sitting still. The swab came away a translucent red, the colour of his magic. “now we’re going to take a blood sample. is that okay?”

Twenty-two’s gaze was deadpan as he offered Rus his arm. There was an array of small puncture wounds in the bone, some shallow and mostly healed, others deep. Jackie handed Rus a needle and he felt his way over the bone until he found a hum of mana. The bone made a faint crack as he punctured it with the tip of the needle.

As a skeleton monster, Rus had never liked needles. Administering them to fleshy monsters was easier. Scales could be tricky, but bone was the worst, from personal experience. But patient twenty-two didn’t flinch, only watched Rus impassively. Rus extracted a small vial of mana and detached it from the needle. “healing balm?” he said to Jackie, reaching out.

“We don’t have any.”

Rus looked up and frowned. “can you find some?”

She shrugged. “We don’t stock it in this ward.”

Rus stared at her. “then what do you use?”

“Nothing. LV usually heals them on its own.”

“that’s only if it’s freshly gained,” Rus said, a touch irritated.

“Well, if you bring me someone who’s been misbehaving, I’m sure we can work on getting this pinprick healed,” twenty-two said with a smile.

Rus ignored him. “antiseptic then,” he said to Jackie. She dabbed a cotton ball in it and handed it to Rus, who wiped it carefully over the fresh puncture wound in the patient’s radius. “aloe vera?” Jackie gave him a dubious look but handed over the tub. It looked new. Or at least, unused. Rus dabbed a small dollop onto the patient’s arm. “okay, we’re going to look at your soul now—”

Jackie tapped his shoulder, shaking her head. “Uh, uh. We don’t do that here.” He frowned, but the look she was giving him was firm. Rus glanced at twenty-two, who still looked vaguely amused. “Too risky,” Jackie murmured, as if trying to keep it a secret from the patient.

Rus hesitated before nodding. “okay then, if that’s the case, your physical check-up for the morning is all done.”

Twenty-two dipped his head. “Pleasure doing business with you, doc.”

Rus glanced over his sheet. “before we finish up, just a few routine questions. please answer them as honestly as you can. have you been feeling drowsy recently?”

“Define recently.”

“last three weeks.”

“Yes. Though no more or less than I have these past ten years.”

Rus heard Jackie sighing loudly, but he pressed on, jotting down the patient’s answer. “headaches?”

“Yes.”

“how bad? one to ten.”

“It varies.” He tipped his hand in a vague gesture. “Fluctuates between a four and a nine.”

“right now?”

He shrugged. “A five.”

“and have you been given anything to remedy your pain?”

Patient twenty-two’s laugh was humourless. “No.” Rus scribbled down ‘pain medication req.’ on his sheet.

“any other sort of pain you’re experiencing? cramps or aches?”

“Yes.”

“can you elaborate?”

The patient leaned back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. “My whole body feels like it’s been wrung out through a vacuum.” He considered. “Or crushed in a hydraulic press. Take your pick.” Nodding, Rus circled ‘pain medication’ three times.

“okay, that’s all. thank you—” He scrambled for a name, then swallowed and fell silent, handing the clipboard back to Jackie. “i’m going to reduce your suppressant dosage. i’ll have to process the request, but my decision should outrank theirs.”

“Doctor, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Jackie muttered.

“it’s too high,” Rus said. “he’s experiencing symptoms of an overdose. his lv is probably all that’s fighting off the more serious consequences.”

Jackie tugged on his arm, coaxing him to lean down. “No offence Doctor, but you do realise he’s probably lying about his symptoms, right?” She glanced over Rus’s shoulder. “They always do it.”

Rus stared at her in disbelief. “we have to give our patients the benefit of the doubt.”

“I dunno, doc…”

“it’s my call,” he said firmly. “he’s my patient. bring him down to forty milligrams.”

Jackie sighed, scribbling it on his sheet. “Alright, your call.”

Patient twenty-two was watching Rus, the corner of his mouth turned up. “You aren’t worried I’m going to go on a rampage and kill everyone, doctor?”

“i’m not,” Rus said flatly, and the patient smirked. Rus scribbled a few more notes on his clipboard before tucking it under his arm. “press the button if you need anything. i’m sure you know the drill.”

“Too well. I don’t suppose you could swing me some better food, doc?”

Rus studied him before following Jackie through the door. “i’ll see you this evening.”

By evening, Rus was caught between exhaustion and adrenaline overdose. The day had followed a routine of check-ups and sample examinations. Every minute he spent in the same room as a patient was like electricity through his mana. He idly wondered if being in the presence of so much LV was bad for his health.

When he scanned his card and entered room twenty-two at the end of the day, the patient was sitting in the same spot by the window, this time watching the sun dip below the horizon. The sky was painted red and pink, wisps of cloud glowing the same colour as twenty-two’s eyes. “jackie has gone home for the evening so you just have me now,” Rus said.

Patient twenty-two turned around slowly and smiled. “Doctor. Come to watch the sunset with me?”

Rus pulled his gloves on, glancing out the window. “it’s nice. how are you feeling? any better?” Twenty-two turned away from the window and watched Rus without a word. “i’m going to administer your medication. do you want it with your food? or do you prefer to swallow?”

Twenty-two grinned. “A bit soon to be asking me that, doc. We haven’t even been on our first date.”

Rus’s cheekbones warmed and he dropped his gaze to the bowl of soup on the tray. “i’ll grind it into your food.”

“Actually, I’ll swallow, thank you. I prefer being able to see what’s going into my body—innuendo not intended.” Rus resisted the urge to roll his eyes—until he had his back turned, that was. He poured twenty-two a cup of water from the sink and watched him swallow the pills. Magic suffused the joints of his neck, hot red like the sky outside.

Suddenly, he reached out and grabbed hold of Rus’s wrists. Rus tried to step back on instinct but twenty-two’s hold was firm. He was grinning and Rus’s soul leapt into his throat. He was too stunned even to scream. “You know doc, you really shouldn’t have come in here by yourself.” Rus squirmed, trying to reach for the panic button on his collar, but the patient’s grip was like concrete.

“let me go,” he hissed.

“I could snap your neck before you even had the chance to scream for help,” twenty-two said, gazing at him. “It would be easy. Too easy.”

“don’t—”

“And your HP is so fragile, you’d barely put a dent in my EXP. I wonder if I could clean up your dust before they grew suspicious. Maybe.”

Rus could feel tears burning in the backs of his sockets, panic bubbling in his chest. “don’t,” he whispered. “please—”

Twenty-two let him go. He laughed as Rus staggered back, putting the medical cart between himself and the patient, for all the good it would do. “I won’t.” Calmly, twenty-two got up from his chair and picked up his tray from the cart. Rus stood stock still, watching him until he sat down. “Cold,” he said, sipping on a spoonful of soup. “I suppose it could be worse, though.” He glanced at Rus and smiled. “I would never hurt you, doctor. I don’t want to.” Putting the spoon aside, he tipped the bowl back and drained it. “I can’t say the same for everyone else here.” He dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Don’t take stupid risks. Never go into a room alone. You’re lucky it was me.”

Rus’s breaths were still coming in soft, sharp pants. Magic prickled at his fingertips, and he tracked the patient’s every movement, flinching when he laughed. “You know, you’re not very good at hiding your fear.”

Rus swallowed, steeling himself and taking a step closer. “what’s your name?”

For a second, the patient’s smile faltered. “My name?”

“well it isn’t twenty-two. i’m not calling you that. i want to know your real name.”

The patient leaned back, crossing his arms. “I don’t think you’ve earned it.” He spoke lightly, but there was a warning in his eyes.

“and how do i earn it?” Rus pressed, daring another step forward. He stopped when the patient cast him a dark look, all traces of amusement gone.

“You don’t. It’s mine.” His voice was low, dangerous. Rus’s courage waned, and he took a step back.

“i’m sorry—”

“You know how you can earn it? By getting me out of this fucking place. Think you can manage that?”

Rus shook his head, a tremble running through his bones. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry, i wasn’t trying to—”

“You can go, doctor. I’m sure you have work to do.” Twenty-two returned to his food tray, picking at the bowl of nuts and dried fruit. Rus backed away to the door, tugging the med cart along with him. He scanned his keycard and hurried out of the room, locking the door behind him. The ‘22’ printed on the door glared back at him.

#spicyhoney #papcest #my writing #us papyrus #uf papyrus #doctor rus #patient edge #hospital setting #asylum #forced institutionalisation #dehumanisation

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cartoonfangirl1218 · 5 years

Text

Winner’s Curse: Ch 1

Note: Thanks as usual to @edream93

“BRIIIIIIIIING!”

The teaming mob of students raced out of class, eager to soak in the precious few hours of free time and relaxation they had before mandatory curfew.

Ever since the events at Cotillion, Auradon Prep had been taking extra measures to keep the students safe and prevent another villain invasion.

Those extra measures included students having to be ID whenever entering the premises. Several assemblies of FG lecturing that “If you see something suspicious, report it.”

In Jordan’s opinion, all of these measures were incredible stupid and weren’t going to stop a villain from invading.

It was like they didn’t know villains operated on their own rules. A VK would probably get a fake card or just sneak in when the guard was on a break.

Please, she had been sneaking in and out when the guard was off duty so she wouldn’t have to attend chemistry class since freshman year and no one had ever caught her.

So not only were these extra precautions asinine, but they were sucking the fun out of everything. They had curfew at 10 pm!

“No sense. They have no sense. When several villains have magic, all magic must be banned. When two villains invade Auradon, we have to get punished.” Jordan mumbled to herself as she shoved her books into her sling-on.

She was seriously considering the pros and cons of getting detention if she was caught levitating her schoolbooks instead of using a sling-bag when an obnoxiously loud voice bellowed next to her.

“That’s exactly what I’VE been saying! Thank you for agreeing with me, Jordan!”

Jordan’s head snapped up and collided with the head of the voice.

Prince Chad Charming, the greatest jerk in the land. At least in her opinion. Or in the opinion of half of the female population who had been strung along by him. She hadn’t been one of the many who fallen under his sway, she just disliked him on principle.

“Excuse me?” Jordan hissed, rubbing her head.

“It’s not fair that we get punished because the VKs live here now. We are law-abiding citizens, the VKs should be the ones being under watch. Not us. Father and I have been trying to get FG to get rid of these stupid rules and focus on the Vk problem.” Chad said, holding out his hand for a fist-pump.

Jordan glared at his offending hand that sparkled with not one-but two golden rings that had the Charming Family crest etched into a sapphire jewel.

“There isn’t a VK problem. There’s a common sense problem among-” Jordan began to say when Chad interrupted with a derisive snort.

“No VK problem? Dude, ever since Ben invited those delinquents we’ve had attack after attack. Maleficent at Coronation. Ursula’s spawn at Cotillion. We never had problems before they came around. And now Ben’s dating Maleficent’s daughter. This whole country is going into ruins.” Chad gesticulated widely, spreading his arms in a grand show that reminded Jordan of videos she had seen of Judge Frollo preaching.

“Cotillion happened six months ago, no one died. You weren’t even there. You were with Audrey at the spa or-”

“I saw the pictures.” Chad put a finger on her lips to silence her, “No one got hurt, but a lot of expensive clothes were ruined because of all the splashing. And that’s another thing about the Vks. Everyone has gotten dirtier, and less respectful of ermine.” Jordan slapped Chad’s finger away from her mouth.

Though she was aware of Chad’s deep VK prejudice, she had thought he would have toned it down since his step-cousin had come over from the Isle. Then again, he probably thought the Dizzy coming to Auradon was a huge inconvenience on his life. Like his laundry WAS taking twice as long or something because of her mere presence.

Jordan finished shoving her books into her bag and looked up to see that Chad was still looking at her expectantly. As if she had any opinion to add on people’s respect towards ermine.

She might as well annoy him, it gave her pleasure to think of the offended face Chad always made whenever she, or anyone, disagreed with him.

“I don’t know about people getting dirtier, but their hairstyles sure have gotten better since Dizzy came. You really should go visit her. Maybe get rid of your perm.” Chad’s boyish grin dropped completely and his eyes went into little slits as he tried to think up of a witty comeback.

“I’ll have you know my perm was done by-”

Jordan rolled her eyes. Getting in trouble be damned, she was out of there, “I’m done. Bye!”

She snapped her fingers and immediately transported herself and her bags to outside the gym and startled Lonnie who was just exiting the doorway of the locker room.

The Asian girl immediately went into a defensive stance then relaxed when she saw it was her.

“Is Aziz here?” Jordan asked.

“Yeah, I think he’s just washing up. How are you?” Lonnie questioned, casually leaning against the wall.

Jordan bit her lip. Ah small talk, her arch-nemesis.

She was horrible at small talk with people that she barely interacted with. It either devolved into polite questions about the other person’s day or awkward silences.

There was no solid topic that they had in common to talk about. Sure, there was school but that was school. Bore-ing! And while she can go the fashion route she knew Lonnie and hers taste were nothing alike. Lonnie preferred comfy athletic clothes and she went for glamor and form-fitting.

This is why she preferred to talk to people within the confines of her show. Straight into an interview, question and answer. Boom. Boom. She liked things to the point and small talk was so...meandering.

“Um I- I’m fine?” Jordan replied, looking down to rifle through the books in her bags. Hoping that Lonnie would get the hint that she clearly was too busy to talk.

“Really? You don’t seem so sure about that.” Lonnie said playfully, clearly not going to let the conversation stall.

“Uh huh.” Jordan mumbled, looking very very slowly at the items in her bag which was not a easy task since she had only three books in there and a bunch of gossip magazines.

“You know I really liked your latest show. You know, the one where you interviewed Jay about the events at Cotillion. It was too bad Ben and Mal couldn’t comment because of “public relations” but Jay’s was very interesting. Especially those little stories he told about when he knew Uma on the Isle. Mal and hers’ rivalry was so dramatic. I had no idea that-”

“Did I hear my name?” Jay came out from the doorway followed by Carlos and Aziz and Jordan almost sighed in relief that the former thief saved her from continuing this dreaded small talk.

“Yes. Jordan and I were just talking about your interview and the stories you told about Uma.” Lonnie replied and Jordan felt a tiny bit guilty that Lonnie gave her credit for talking rather than monosyllabic answers.

“Ugh Uma.” Carlos shuddered.

Jay laughed, punching him in the arm,“Dude, she’s not that terrifying. She’s Shrimpy, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was before we found out she could turn into a sea monster.” Carlos crossed his arms.

Aziz sauntered over to Jordan’s right side, and jokingly nudged her shoulder. He smiled brightly with the white teeth that was so similar to Aladdin, Jordan was surprised not more people mistakenly call him Prince Ali.

“This is what we get for skipping big events. We miss Maleficent’s attack, we miss Uma’s attack-”

“I think I prefer seeing babies than villains invading Auradon.” Jordan smiled, grateful that Aziz finally came.

Now Aziz was someone she could talk to. He was her brother, her best friend and she swore that if she was going to have to love one boy in the whole world for the rest of her life, it would be Aziz. No matter how annoying he could be with his pranks, and gross humor, and plain getting on her nerves. He had her back just as she had his.

It was not a fairytale romance, far from it. Like with Aladdin and Jasmine’s sex life... getting on with Aziz? Ewww!

The joke people tell about how she and Aziz were the modern day Aladdin and Genie and she had to admit, they were right. She’d totally spend the entireity of his life by his side as his sidekick and voice of reason.

“Babies being born?” Carlos cocked his head. “My eldest sister gave birth just the day before Cotillion. And before that, we had to go home for the baby shower and miss Ben’s Coronation.” Carlos still looked confused since he wasn’t fully debriefed on the Agrabah royal family tree as Jay had been after coming to Auradon.

Aladdin and Jasmine had two daughters born before the Great Uniting, Zahrat Alquemar was the eldest at 23 and Cassima was the second oldest at 20. Jordan had been born a year after Cassima, during the Great Uniting.

Following Cassima 4 years later had been Aziz who was born after the Great Uniting and thus used to all the luxuries of olive groves next to Agrabah via the Wall of China divided the two countries and being educated at Auradon Prep for most of his life.

So there they were, Zahrat, Cassima, Aziz, the heirs to Agrabah and the shining jewels of the kingdom.

Surprise, surprise 9 years later, there were too more jewels to the royal crown. Jasmine had twins, Amal and Noor.

The twins were obviously an accidental pregnancy considering the large gap, though no one would say that out loud in conservative Auradon. Besides Aziz, and his sisters didn’t particularly like to muse on the implication that Aladdin and Jasmine still had an active sex life. It was just gross.

Now Zahrat had given birth to her first son, Fahran. The birth would would have been on the Auradon World Wide News, but since Uma’s thwarted invasion of Cotillion happened, it was a mere footnote that no one knew about.

Unlike the rest of the Auradon population, Jay had gotten the news a day later even though he had never met the family face to face. Aladdin had told her and Aziz to get Jay to come since it would have been a good opportunity for Jay to meet the whole royal family, but they hadn’t found him in time since he had apparently been on the Isle of the Lost. So they sent this news via email.

Aladdin and Jasmine had been trying very hard to include Jay into the family. They had never been for the Isle and since Ben’s proclamation, they had been doing their best to contact Jay. Aladdin, especially. He had a deep urge to talk to Jay about his life on the Isle and the conditions there that were so similar to his life as a street rat. He always said that if it weren’t for Jasmine, he would be as bad as Jay so he didn’t judge the boy as harshly as so many royals did think of Vks.

So far they had not met, and Aladdin was starting to suspect that Jay didn’t want to meet him or be in Agrabah. Jordan was suspicious about that too. Though Jay always seemed interested when she and Aziz talked about it there and made non commital agreements that he should really visit. It never seemed to pan out...

“I have two older sisters, and a younger brother and sister.” Aziz explained to the white haired teen, “That’s why I don’t take any royal classes since my sisters are going to have the throne before I do.”

Jordan nodded her head sagely, carefully watching Aziz’s face for any signs of overt nonchalantness or sounding too casual about the information. She knew that even though Aziz had no desire to become Sultan, he still agonized over the fact that he had no idea what to do with his life and that he had no real career paths like other royal students who had their lives planned out to the last detail.

Right now, he didn’t seem too bothered as he stated the fact but Jordan could swear that his smile was a bit too forced around the edges.

“Anyway..” Jordan decided to step in with the little small talk ability she had before the conversation veered into uncomfortable territory, “What are you guys going to do this afternoon?”

“We’re just going to the field and practice some tourney.” Jay answered, slapping Lonnie on the shoulder, “We’re going to bulk her up so she can be the first girl on the tourney team and Captain of the R.O.A.R. team.” Aziz gave Jordan a look with one sardonically raised eyebrow that telepathically conveyed his thought. “You see what I’m seeing?” Jordan observed at the couple. Ahem..the two friends.

Jay had his arm casually slung across Lonnie’s shoulder in a way that totally could have been a platonic friend move, but the fact that the two had been spending a lot of time together doing one on one training sessions followed by eating out made the general public suspect there was something more underneath. And seeing Lonnie’s ear to ear smile and Jay’s playful winks as she brushed his long hair off her shoulder- Jordan suspected all the rumors were true. Or the rumors were going to become true if neither had made a move yet.

Jordan made a small half-smile in response, “Oh yes! They are so into each other.”

“I have a date with Jane at the courtyard a 3:30.” Carlos said, oblivious to the silent conversations around him.

“Uh Carlos? It’s 3:40 now. Training went a little overtime.” Lonnie said showing him her watch. The younger teen turned so pale that his freckles disappeared. It reminded Jordan of the starving dogs she had seen on the streets of Agrabah. Small, panicky with waves of fear radiating off of him.

Almost tipping over himself with his torso moving faster than his body, Carlos turned and ran off, crashing into strolling students in is desperation to not be late to his very important date.

“Wow. I didn’t expect him to get so..” Aziz trailed off, unsure of how to describe the skittishness that the boy possessed and the fear that radiated off of him when he realized he made a simple mistake.

Jay’s face was sober as he stared at the walkway Carlos had run off on. “Yeah, he gets like that. living with his mom makes him...sensitive to getting people mad.”

The Auradonians nodded their heads knowledgeably, as if they knew what Jay was talking about yet aware that there was so much that they didn’t know about Carlos and Jay’s former life on the Isle and the pain that occurred there.

After a moment of silence Lonnie tried to change the subject. “What are you two going to do before curfew?”

“I was thinking we could go out clubbing?” Jordan answered looking at Aziz for confirmation.

“Sure! I wanna have dinner at Little Agrabah before heading out though.” Aziz said enthusiastically.

“Clubbing? But-but all the clubs are for adults only.” Lonnie stammered.

“I am 22, a legal adult. In human years at least. And since I’m going to a human club, I give them that age.” Jordan said proudly.

“They can’t actually believe you, right? You look 17.” Jay scoffed.

“They do. It’s easy for me to change make my facial features look more mature, you know, having phenomenal cosmic powers and all. But then some adult would rat me out for the underagedness and the magic use. So I just go as my mom, and then security lets Aziz in too because I’m the “parental supervision.”

Jay and Lonnie stared at her disbelievingly in silence.

Well silence and a small not very quiet whisper from Jay to Lonnie, “She has a mom?”

“You don’t get to see it often because of the Magic Ban, but she can change into anyone she wants.” Aziz smirked and Jordan smugly flipped her ponytail.

“Not anyone.” Jordan clarified, “All the men I turn into look too feminine to be convincing. But females, no problem. One time Audrey bailed on a presentation Doug and Aziz were doing about-what minerals? I went as Audrey, no one knew the difference. FG didn’t even know the difference and she’s a magic user.”

“To be fair, you did a great show of freaking out when Doug got dirt on your dress just like the real Audrey would have done,” Aziz pointed out.

Jay closed his mouth abruptly and challenged her, “Prove it.”

“Fine, I’ll do someone you know.” Jordan waved her hands over herself and a puff of pink sparkles sprang from her fingertips. She felt her face and bones shift, and ripple as she became more petite, more muscular and her pink streaks fade away to pure black.

Lonnie gasped at Jordan’s new look as her identical twin. She had even changed her flashy clothes to a R.O.A.R. uniform.

“Believe me now?” Jordan/Lonnie crossed her arms.

Jay did a slow-clap and wolf-whistled, further confirming Jordan’s suspicions that the former VK had a crush on the warrior’s daughter.

Satisfied by their reaction Jordan transformed into her mother. A simple task since she had done it so many times over the years and the fact that she and her mother looked very alike. Just a few facial tweaks like a button nose, and higher cheekbones, voila, she was a new woman.

To make the transformation complete she changed into her mother’s full genie form. Wispy bottom half, pointed ears, green skin and infamous golden wrist cuffs.

Technically her parents were no longer allowed to appear that way because of the Magic Ban; they had to adjust to looking and living like a human like all the other immortal creatures and fae. But her parents tended to take things like rules more as “suggestions.”

Assessing her new form as a perfect replica as well as perfectly sexy in her gauzy white high-low skirt and matching crop top, she hooked arms with Aziz, “Ready to go?”

“Have fun, clubbing then.” Lonnie waved.

“Oh we will!” Jordan chirped using an overly-enthusiastic tone which was her parents’ default mode.

Just as Jordan, Aziz, Lonnie and Jay were about to turn away from each other, they heard a voice filled with sarcastic amusement, “I know people say we look like sisters, but this is a bit too on the nose.”

The four turned around and Jordan almost did a double-take.

She didn’t know what shocked her more. The fact that her mom was here at Auradon Prep!

Or the fact that her mom was in her human form.

Her mom NEVER came to AP since her parents’ presence at the Academy tended to put FG in a tizzy due to their constant disregard for her rules.

To add to the shock was that her mother’s choice of mortal clothes was exactly the same as Jordan’s clubbing outfit.

A gauzy pink high-low skirt, and matching pink lace crop top that would have been perfect for the hot weather of Agrabah yet in Auradon Prep, it only served as a chance for the entire student body to see her mom’s chest in danger of popping out if she happened to bounce.

Not that it would ever come to fruition. One of the great magical perks was that clothes never fell off of you or flew up at embarrassing moments. Much to the disappointment of most male populations when her mom was concerned.

Jordan managed to close her mouth and inhale deeply. It was weird to see her as a mortal. Discounting the impossible hourglass figure, her mom looked pretty normal. Olive skin tone, amber eyes. Even the green streaks in her hair, the only hint to her true skin color, seemed more like she was following the latest trend of “edgy Vk-like” style that had come over the teen population.

Before Jordan could get any words out her mom swept her up into a big hug, then stepped back to look at her, “It’s like looking in a mirror! Oh, Desiree, you’ve been holding out on me. I didn’t know you could do this. Wait till I tell your dad, he’ll be so happy!”

Jordan bit back the instinctive snarky response she thought of in her head as she listened to her mother’s squeals of delight. “I’ve been shapeshifting into you for years. Maybe if our parent-child bonding time lasted more than a few days at a club, you would have seen me use my powers much sooner.”

All she managed to get out was, “Please don’t call me Desiree in public. I’ve told you a thousand times, call me Jordan.”

“Sorry, I forgot. Jordan? If you had to choose a human name, that one is kinda boring but that’s just me. Anyway, this is just wonderful!” Her mom said before moving on to hug Aziz, “It’s been forever, little man!”

“It’s been six months,” Aziz mumbled with his face pressed firmly into her shoulder.

“Six months only? That’s can’t be right. Then again my sense of time has never been that good. One time I was released by that Frenchman I told you about, the whole time I had thought it was the year 700 B.C. The next time I got released, I got my hands on a calendar and it turned out that was 700 B.C. I was with the Frenchmen during 500 B.C.” Once her little monologue finished, her mom seemed to have caught onto the presence of the two other teens. Who currently did not seem to know what to make of the talkative locomotion that had arrived.

Her mother gasped, and her jaw literally dropped to touch the ground before snapping back up like a window shade and enthusiastically shook his hand.

“Is this Jay iban Jafar!? Are you sure? I mean...I never met the guy, I’ve just seen his pictures but how did this cutie come from that man? I mean, Jay’s hot! Is he Mozonroth’s son? It seems more likely he’s Mozonroth’s son. Yes, I hate the man and he’s pure evil but I have to admit his hotness. I know the guy covered his whole body with robes, but I imagined he had a Adonis physique underneath. Just something about him screamed “sexy” in a I-don’t-know- whether- to-kill-you-or- ravish-you sort of way. I told you, he sounded like he flirted with everyone. But maybe that’s because of his low voi-”

“MOM!” Jordan groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose while Jay rubbed his arm from the vigorous up-and-down motions.

Yet another reason why FG didn’t like her parents to come to Auradon Prep. They had zero filter or tact of any kind. If it popped into their heads, they said it. Like this embarrassing aside about the hotness levels of Jay, Jafar and Mozenrath.

“Hey, I’ve been around for 2,000 years, I know when a guy is hot when I see one.” Her mom shot back with an eye-roll at Jordan’s mouthed “Please shut up now.”

With the attention briefly not directed at him, Jay regained his standard confident smirk, “Thank you, Mrs-”

“Eden.” Her mom answered with a wink that Jay instinctively returned.

“Eden,” Jay purred and Aziz choked back a laugh at the older boy’s obvious posturing, “I’ve been called hot by many people but not so many as gorgeous as yourself.”

Her mom smirked back at him, “That was a cute line. But you have long ways to go if you think only that will have girls melting at your feet. I’ve heard better.”

Jay took her brush-off in stride, probably because he was concerned with using his willpower to not let his eyes linger too long on Eden’s breasts. Well, long enough for anyone to notice.

Eden finally turned to Lonnie, “And I don’t think we have met?” Lonnie seemed to be surprised by Eden’s change of attention towards her, but recovered quickly, “I’m Lonnie, daughter of Fa Mulan and-” “General Shang.” Eden finished, “Nice to meet you too. I’ve seen you do those R.O.A.R. competitions on tv, you’re so fierce.”

“Thanks.” Lonnie blushed modestly.

“So Eden, is Genie with you? Why are you here?” Aziz asked and Jordan nodded mutely next to him. “Genie’s here. He’s giving the security guard our ID as if someone else can pretend they’re genies with phenomenal cosmic power. I was supposed to go the FG’s office, but I got lost. This no magic thing is so hard.” Eden complained.

“How do you not know how to get around without magic?” Lonnie asked disbelievingly. Sure, Auradon Prep had extensive grounds, but it was tiny compared to other castles like the Charmings. “I usually just transport myself to where I want to go.” Eden admitted, “I don’t walk or use maps. That’s for mortals. I’m genie, made out of magic, and they want me NOT to use it? It’s ridiculous.”

“I know! Is that why you’re here to complain to FG again? Because she’s not going to change her mind and change the rules. Just like she wasn’t going to use dad’s idea to implement a water park for Ariel’s birthday.” Jordan pointed out.

“I know that, sweetheart. As for why your father and I are here. . . Uh don’t worry. It doesn’t have anything to do with you.” Eden looked to Jordan and Jordan immediately thought of another comment she wished to say.

“Wouldn’t imagine it. Nothing you ever do has concern for me.”

“Then what is it about?” Aziz asked.

Like a lightbulb, Eden’s enthusiasm immediately dimmed and shifted uneasily, “It’s a..meeting about things. Private magical things. Nothing to do with the school. It was nice seeing you. Can you direct me to FG’s office?” Eden answered vaguely.

At the word “magical” and “nothing to do with school,” Jordan’s attention was riveted and her mind swirled with all the possibilities of what her mom could mean.

“Is it about the Magic Ban? Are you trying to get it overturned again? Please let me come! I want to help. It will be like parent-child bonding time only we’re not partying. It’ll be better than partying, we will have our freedom back.”

Eden stared at her like a deer in the headlights at Jordan’s request. “This is an adult matter. For creatures who have experience and complete mastery of their powers. It would be much too dangerous if you get involved. Again, it has nothing to do with you.” Jordan snorted, letting some of the snark that she swallowed back come out in full force.

“Don’t be a hypocrite and start acting like a concerned mom for my well-being. Besides, I do have mastery of my powers. You said so, yourself, you knew everything you needed to know after you granted your first three wishes. I’ve granted at least more than 50. Take me along.” Eden’s deer in the headlights look faded into one of confusion and anger at Jordan’s statement. “How dare you call me a hypocrite! I care about your well-being. . . And will you change to your regular form? I feel ridiculous scolding myself.” Eden retorted.

Jordan easily obliged, continuing her argument all the while, “No, you don’t! You said, “I grew up without parents and I turned out great. We’re genies, we don’t die, we don’t get injured. You don’t need me around.” Remember? That’s why you and dad gave the parenting rights to Aladdin and Jasmine.”

Eden looked helplessly at her, “Please don’t tell me you took that personally! We still hang out, I love you-”

“Of course I took it personally! You had me, you got bored parenting and then dumped me.” Jordan cut her off.

Eden cringed at her daughter’s harsh interpretation of the facts, “. . .Genies are meant to grant wishes, we’re not meant to be parents. Besides-” “Exactly!” Jordan hissed, “So you don’t get to use the parent excuse that you are concerned for my well-being. Just tell me what this magical meeting is about. I’m magical, it concerns me.”

Eden refused to look at her and snapped her fingers, “I don’t need to listen to this. We’ll chat later when you’re in a better mood.”

One green poof and she was gone.

The space where her mother had been was replaced by Aziz’s, Lonnie’s, and Jay’s, respectively concerned, pitying and curious gazes.

Jordan gulped back the lump of fury and resentment that had built up in her throat and forced a smile, “Fine, she doesn’t want tell me. Doesn’t matter. Who wants to sneak into that magical, private meeting with me?”

Lonnie ignored her question, “Are you okay? I didn’t know that your parents-”

“It’s fine. We’ve been arguing over this since I was seven. There’s really no solution besides the arrangement we have.” Jordan shrugged, taking a deep inhale to keep down the inappropriate sarcastic laughter inside.

It was not a big deal.

Yes, she loved Jasmine and Aladdin and how she had become ingrained into their family dynamics. Her childhood had been filled with so many adventures and vacations with them.

They treated her as if she was as mortal as them. Zahrat and Cassima acted as her wise, older sisters who were always there for a makeover or advice. Aziz was her partner in crime. And she personally adored Amal and Noor and would kill anyone who tried to harm them.

She loved them as her family. Yet she still wished, that if she could transplant Aladdin and Jasmine’s parenting skills, their dependability, their actual interest in her academic and social life, their ability to talk about the deep subjects, to her parents... well she would be willing to have only consider them to be her cousins.

Instead she had her imperfect, flighty, oblivious parents.

Her imperfect parents who got bored when parenting was no longer about baby clothes and homemade videos.

She resented how whenever she brought up their choice they would either ignore the uncomfortable conversation or tried to distract her with fun day activities.

And yes, she did resent the explanation that they did give. They preferred absolute freedom before family responsibility.

It was not something she liked to think about often, Nor did she particularly like the current situation of two non-family strangers witnessing her family affairs.

But that was done now. She supposed she might as well follow her bio parent’s steps and pretend it was no big deal.

“It’s fine.” Jordan repeated before clapping her hands together, “Now it’s clear that we’ll have to sneak into this meeting through the old-fashioned way. The air ducts.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Aziz sidled up to her and whispered in her ear, “If you want to talk later, my door’s open.”

“I know, but that’s not the point now.” Jordan whispered back, and turned her attention towards Lonnie and Jay and raised an eyebrow, “Are you going to join or not?”

#jordan #aziz #jay #lonnie #eden #disney descendants #winner’s curse #chapter one #my fanfic #my fanfiction

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ladylynse · 6 years

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Whirlwind: Part IV - A Secret Quartet fanfic (FFnet | AO3)

(Part I/Part II/Part III): Jake should be used to ominous predictions by now. Randy should know better than to blindly follow McFist. Adrien should think twice before sneaking away. And Danny should’ve expected something like this when he got that phone call. (Timeline post)

5:53 PM

Jake couldn’t find an obvious hole in security around the building where the fashion show gala whatever-it-was was being held—every entrance was guarded and all the windows were closed, assuming any actually opened in the first place—and that made his job a little harder. He could probably get in from the roof. After all, a locked door was no match for his dragon claw unless it was magically locked, and this wouldn’t be. No, his problem with that method was the fact that there were cameras everywhere. He’d already have to invent some cover story in case people realized this first attack was due to magic; he didn’t need to add a dragon sighting to the mix.

He flew for about a block and a half before dropping into an alley, changing, and doubling back. His very human eyes picked out even fewer details than he had as a dragon, so he lurked across the street for a bit so he could text Fu and Danny and fill them in. The Ninja had told him enough to worry him. The fact that this place had been targeted out of everything else that was going on in the NYC tonight?

Not a coincidence.

Definitely not a coincidence.

Jake already knew Chat Noir had done some research. He’d found their shop, after all. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to find their family, either. Or his mom’s catering business. But the fact that he knew she’d be here tonight?

Jake made sure his phone was on silent before shoving it back into his pocket. In his book, going after parents was a low blow. His mom might know about the magical world, but she didn’t have dragon powers, so she couldn’t exactly defend herself as easily as her father or her kids. Endangering her was pretty much a declaration of war in Jake’s book. Even the elves she worked with didn’t do much in terms of magic; they wouldn’t be able to protect themselves, let alone anyone else, if it came down to a fight.

Jake kinda doubted she’d drop everything and leave, given how that would look, but at the very least, he could warn her. And hide somewhere nearby in case she needed protection. Even if she didn’t want him to.

Magic was looking like his best bet to get into this place, even if Gramps wouldn’t approve.

Well.

Magic, or maybe just the truth. Or at least a half truth. It would probably look better when he tried to explain this to everyone else if magic wasn’t his first resort.

He tried to pat his hair into something his mother might think was an acceptable position before peeling off to approach one of the security guards, a stern-faced lady with greying hair pulled back into a bun. “I’m Jake Long,” he said when he’d reached her. “The caterer’s son. She asked me to come by and help move some things.”

The dubious look he received had him pulling out his student card, which was about the only ID he actually had. “See?”

“Sorry, kid. Can’t let anyone in without the proper clearance, and unless I hear from someone else, that’s going to include you.”

“But my mom—”

“I don’t make the rules, kiddo.”

Jake managed not to scowl at the nickname. “Can’t you at least radio someone? Ask for Susan Long to come down? She’ll vouch for me.” His mother would not be happy, but she’d understand.

“Look, I don’t think you understand—”

“Are you sure you understand?” interrupted Jake. “This is an important party, yo. Do you want to be the one who ruined it because you wouldn’t let in the caterer’s help?”

“Listen, kid. The caterer has all the help she needs, and all those people have the proper clearance and badges to prove it. You don’t. So beat it.”

Of all the times not to have his board with him. There was no way this lady would’ve been able to catch him if he did, even in this crowd.

He didn’t have time to go back and get Fu to brew up a potion.

He didn’t really have a lot of time to wait around and focus for any fancy magic of his own, either, not when he didn’t know how things had gone down with Danny or if this Chat Noir had set anything up—or if his potential partner had, assuming it wasn’t the Ninja who had baited the trap Jake was trying to walk right into.

So he bolted, making a beeline for the door. The security guard was right on his tail, but he was used to that, and he was as good at ducking underneath obstacles as he was at flying over them. Of course, he didn’t know if the door was locked, and he didn’t have the time to pick it, so he called up what dragon strength he could in human form and wrenched it open. This nearly sent him flying back because it hadn’t been locked, probably because there was some kind of First Aid station set up just inside the doors, and he plowed through them and jumped the barriers without missing a beat.

He had to find his mom.

He had to warn her.

The fact that the first attack had been here couldn’t have been a coincidence.

If she at least knew to keep an eye out, that there was someone around, probably someone who was watching her, she and the rest of her crew could be extra careful. Take more precautions than usual. And spend as little time hanging around as possible.

With that in mind, Jake twisted around the new security guard that had joined the chase and raced down the hall. He tried to get his bearings as he went. He’d come in some side entrance, off the beaten path but not disconnected from the main hall that he could see ahead. He got through the next set of doors and ran full tilt into another pair of security officers. A few quick breaths of flame surprised them enough to give him time to scramble to his feet, vault over the next set of barriers, and keep going.

The fire probably hadn’t been the brightest idea, in hindsight; now, they probably thought he had a lighter and maybe that he was a particularly stupid arsonist. In all likelihood, it would bring more people down on him. But he worked with what he had. Once he got to his mom and warned her, then he’d leave. Sneak out, if that was actually possible, but at the very least willingly be kicked out.

Hopefully, his mom would step in if they actually called the police.

Jake didn’t pay attention to the screams. He just kept running and dodging, zigzagging and sliding, weaving and rolling. He scattered more than a few chairs, tore down a banner or two or ten, and tried to be as inconspicuous in his use of dragon powers as possible.

There was more than a little flame in his wake, though.

Which might have set off the fire alarm.

And activated the sprinklers.

Just a little bit.

He risked a glance over his shoulder, confirmed that they were still chasing him, and then looked forward. Realizing too late he was about to careen into the table, he tried to brake, swerve, jump it, anything, but he was going too fast to control it, especially with the wet floors, and—

“Jake Long!”

Something that may have been caviar slid down the side of his face, joining the mess of unidentifiable hors d’oeuvres in his lap and, well, everywhere else.

“Just what do you think you’re doing, young man?”

He was so dead.

“Um…. Delivering a message?” He couldn’t tell her in front of everyone that he was trying to warn her. Not that there were many people left besides her staff—who knew about him, being elves—and the guards chasing him. The only reason she was standing over him, soaking wet and glaring, was because she’d recognized the magic in the fire most humans couldn’t identify. She thought this mess was his fault, that he’d ruined this show—gala—whatever it was—for nothing.

“You did all this,” Susan Long repeated slowly, her voice quiet and tight, “just to deliver a message? Jake, I’m going to be lucky if anyone hires me after this. Gabriel Agreste has his fingers in a lot of pots, even over here. What can possibly be so important that you would do this?”

Jake looked behind him, decided he had enough time, and hurriedly whispered, “There’s going to be an attack. I think. This new guy in town, Chat Noir, he knows about us. About all of us. He’s going to try to hurt you—”

“Jake.” Something in Susan’s expression had softened, if not enough to save his hide. “I appreciate your concern, but you need to learn to judge the situation at hand.” She was speaking though her teeth now, a tight apologetic smile fixed on her face as she turned to the guards who’d come up behind him. “My apologies for my son’s antics,” she said. “We will of course pay for the damage he caused.”

Jake swallowed.

He wasn’t sure his mother’s company and his family’s savings combined could cover everything he had just done. Insurance wasn’t going to help if they thought he’d done this on purpose, and he couldn’t exactly tell anyone else the truth.

How had he managed to screw up this much in such a short period of time?

XXXXXXXXX

6:24 PM

They were ruined before opening night. Oh, something might be salvageable. The new opening could be staged elsewhere tomorrow night, possibly even with an improvised, shorter show as a teaser outside tonight. But he had come here for more than just the show; that had merely been a convenient guise.

A quick test of the waters had proven fruitful, lending credence to information he hadn’t been sure was reliable.

Finding Chat Noir in the city as well was simply a delightful bonus. Without his usual fighting partner by his side, there was an even greater chance than usual that he’d finally acquire the Ring of the Black Cat.

Especially now.

He didn’t know the details of what had happened, of course. Not yet. But he could find out easily enough. Even in the midst of the terror and chaos, he could feel the anger, the hurt, the shame, the disappointment.

The others could wait for him a little bit longer.

He cradled his hands and called a butterfly to him, infusing it with magic. “Destroyed by a child’s folly and burning with righteous fire within. What better time than now to let her fury blaze freely? Fly away, my little akuma, and blacken her heart!”

The akuma flitted off immediately, and he didn’t have to wait long until the connection was made. Sensing his victim’s heart, he smiled. “Hello, Dracona,” he said. “My name is Hawk Moth. I know how it feels to be betrayed by your own blood, to be painted as the draconian villain. I’ll help you to unleash your inner fire and find fairness in flame to teach a lesson that won’t be so easily forgotten. All I ask in return is for you to gather as much information on what passes for superheroes in this city as you can—and to fetch the ring of Chat Noir if he crosses your path. Do we have a deal?”

He was used to immediate agreement. Instead, he sensed laughter. “Hawk Moth,” drawled his chosen champion, “I haven’t heard of you before. You don’t sound like the Mothman.”

He gritted his teeth, took a breath, and said, “I am far from mere fantasy. I can grant you power—”

“Let me unlock my own power,” she breathed, “and you have a deal.”

“It is always a matter of unlocking your own power,” he assured her, not adding that Nooroo’s magic truly let the transformation occur. “Do we have an agreement?”

“Yes, Hawk Moth.”

He felt the magic overtake her, transform her, but there was something…wilder about it than he was used to. As if Dracona would prove more troublesome than most. The magic seemed stronger than it should, but not in his favour—as if she really did have her own power.

The notion was ridiculous, of course. Mere humans could only obtain power as he had, with magical objects. It was never inherently within them. More likely, this one had simply unleashed an inner fury she typically kept contained.

He heard a roar, a cacophony of screams, and smiled.

Chat Noir would return, as would this Ninja, and with any luck, the power he had granted Dracona would help him gain more of his own.

XXXXXXX

6:07 PM

Randy had barely gotten back inside the venue where this fashion show gala thing was being held when the fire alarm started blaring and the sprinklers went off.

Naturally, he hid, so instead of getting swept out of the building with everyone else, he was still around to see more than a few pairs of sodden security guards escort a sullen teenager from the building. He saw the woman walking a step behind them, a string of apologies falling from her lips, and guessed that whoever she was—she was wearing a uniform, so she had to be someone—that she was responsible for the boy.

And it didn’t take a genius to guess that the poor shoob was probably the one who’d wonked this up big time.

As fire marshals cleared the last of the building, Randy slipped out to follow the kid and the other woman. Hopefully, he’d get a better idea of who was feeling worse before they split up. Not that that would stop the Sorceress if this was her work; she’d just target both of them. Heck, she might just target the entire crowd. There had to be a lot of people out there who were sure their evening had been ruined, Marci and McFist included….

“I can’t go home, Mom,” complained the boy when the guards had finally left—miraculously without calling the cops, as far as Randy could tell. He wondered how many strings had had to be pulled for that to happen. He and Howard probably wouldn’t have gotten off so easily if they’d been caught red-handed like this boy. “I’ve got—y’know—that business I’ve gotta take care of.”

The mother’s lips thinned. “Then go to the store and fetch your grandfather. I don’t want you working alone on this, Jake.”

“But you—”

“The only danger I’m in is of losing my business after what you’ve done.”

Randy winced even as the boy deflated. His mom’s tone hadn’t been angry, exactly. More quietly disapproving, dripping with disappointment and a touch of resignation. As if the damage was done, as if there wasn’t time to be angry. Or—judging by the tightness of her expression—as if it weren’t the time or place to make a scene.

“Just let me fix this—”

“Jake,” his mother snapped, “leave it. You’ve done enough. I don’t have any more strings to pull and my favours won’t mean anything if I can’t recover from this. If you are right about there being more danger than usual, then I won’t let you work alone. You know I’m not unprotected. Go. Your responsibility isn’t for me.”

“But—”

“Now.”

Jake’s burning face betrayed the shame he was feeling, but he still opened his mouth to argue. Randy bit his lip. The Sorceress would make short work of either of these two---and probably practically anyone in the crowd who was crying over a ruined dress or angry over a ruined night or—

This was going to be bad.

He could use some help.

He kinda wished the dragon had stuck around, but maybe it was best that he hadn’t; fire-breathing dragons didn’t exactly exude calm.

It would’ve been nice if cat boy had shown his face again, though, even if Randy had to admit he’d lost Chat Noir’s stick thing in the fire. He didn’t remember dropping it, but it wasn’t in his pockets anymore, so he must have. That was really saying something, considering it had been ages since he’d accidentally dumped his throwing balls anywhere or lost his sword.

Randy touched the earpiece the Am Drag had given him. He’d put it on under the mask, but it seemed to be dead—which was unfortunate because it was probably his only source of backup. Maybe the channel wasn’t actually pre-set on it. Or maybe there was no one to hear him trying to use it. He pushed the button on the side again and whispered, “Hey, uh, whoever can hear this…. It’d be honkin’ bruce if I could get a little help. I’m, ah, pretty sure I’m gonna need it.”

Silence.

He pressed the button and tried again.

“Who is this?”

Randy blinked. He hadn’t actually expected a response, at least not from someone who definitely wasn’t the Am Drag. Maybe this thing wasn’t broken. Or maybe he’d just been hitting the wrong button, or not holding it long enough, or pressing it twice, or something. “I’m the Ninja,” he answered, retreating as much as he could. The wail of sirens had cut off a few minutes ago, and the buzz of the crowd wouldn’t necessarily hide his conversation this close to the people he’d been watching. “Who’re you?”

“The…what? Forget it, where’d you get this?”

“Where’d I get what?”

“The Fenton Phone!”

“The what?”

There was grumbling on the other end of the line, coupled with a sharp increase in wind noise. Whoever it was was on the move. “The communication device you’re using to talk to me.”

Oh. “I’ve got some friends in high places,” he said evasively.

More grumbling. Then, “Where are you?”

“Um.” Randy wasn’t actually sure. He’d found the place; that didn’t mean he knew where it was. He’d planned on following McFist back to the plane when the time came. “Where the big fashion show is. The opening thing. The gala. Y’know. That place.” Even he knew that wasn’t the most helpful description in the world. “You can’t miss it,” he added before the other guy could say something. “Just look for all the firetrucks and stuff. All the lights are still flashing.”

That was definitely a groan. “Fine, I’ll find you eventually. Just stay put.”

“Are you honkin’ kidding me? I’m gonna be waaaay too busy to leave if this shakes out the way I think it will.”

“Which is how, exactly?”

As if he was going to tell some shoob on the other end of the line about the Sorceress and everything she could do. “Bad.”

“How bad?”

“Very.”

“Yeah, but how bad are we talking?”

There was a note of earnestness the other boy’s voice that gave Randy pause. He was used to dealing with the Sorcerer, but this wasn’t Norrisville. This was New York City, and he had no clue about the lay of the land. He couldn’t assume the Sorceress was going to be as clueless because chances were she’d been operating for a while, biding her time until some event like this came up as a perfect opportunity to gain power. He doubted she’d counted on a dragon being in town, much less him or some foreign cat boy, but if she attacked now? With so many people around, all ready to panic?

It would be pandemonium, and the chaos would only make her stronger. The three of them would have a tough time stopping her. And if they failed?

“Worst case? Apocalyptic. So I’d rather wonk her cheese before it gets to the point.”

“You’d rather…what? Who are you talking about? Who are we dealing with?”

“I’ll fill you in when you get here. You won’t be able to miss me. Pretty sure I’m the only Ninja in town.”

“With the secrets this place has, I wouldn’t count on it,” was the muttered response.

Randy didn’t hear a click, but the background noise of rushing wind vanished abruptly. He shut his own earpiece off—or he tried—and crept back outside. The mother and son duo had vanished, though that amounted to little given the crowd not fifty feet away. They could be anywhere, and they weren’t the Sorceress’s only potential victims.

Besides, if the Sorceress had been out for any length of time and regained any power at all, she wasn’t going to be limited to people who were emotionally compromised. She could stank anyone, maybe even him if he wasn’t careful. She’d had zero trouble stanking people when she’d caught everyone at the fake club last time, even before they’d all been really panicking. She’d even gotten Morgan, and that girl was level-headed enough to have avoided the Sorcerer so far.

Still, as far as he knew, the Sorceress actually had to have eyes on someone to stank them like that.

If she was waiting around somewhere, she was either in the middle of the crowd…or somewhere above it.

Randy chewed his lip. The Nomicon hadn’t been flashing at him, so it didn’t have anything to say, which was weird. But maybe it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world to double check on that, assuming it would open for him. He could probably get back out of it in time to meet whoever he’d just been talking to on the earphone thingy.

He ended up sprinting back inside and hiding under a table. He yanked his mask off and pulled out the Nomicon. It fell open at his touch, and he fell into the dizzying world of spiralling symbols.

He didn’t land so much as crash into a pool of water. He broke the surface, sputtering but not hurt. He swam the few meters to shore and tried to wipe the water out of his eyes. “What the juice, Nomicon? I just want some tips on dealing with the honkin’ Sorceress. I don’t need a bath! I don’t smell that much. It’s the smoke bombs.”

Angrily yelling at the sky actually had a chance of being effective in the Nomicon, and sure enough, clouds began gathering above him. He crossed his arms and waited. After a few seconds, misty words had formed: TO CLEANSE THE SOUL, ONE MUST FIRST CLEAR THE MIND.

“How the cheese do you expect me to cleanse the mind and soul of the Sorceress? She’s the Sorceress.”

The Nomicon, being its usual unhelpful self, only slightly amended its message: TO CLEANSE THE SOUL, ONE MUST FIRST CLEAR THE MIND.

“Clear and cleanse mean the same thing!”

A second underline appeared beneath the first.

Randy scowled.

He wasn’t entirely surprised when the clouds descended to engulf him. Hacking, he sat back up in the real world—and banged his head on the table. Of course. The Nomicon swung closed and slid to the floor. Once he had his mask back on and had stuffed the Nomicon into his pocket, he poked his head out from beneath the tablecloth to make sure the coast was still clear.

It wasn’t.

The officials wouldn’t have cleared this place for re-entry yet; he should have been safe. Instead, that kid’s mom was there. Her uniform was still a mess, and she was still soaked through from the sprinklers. She and her son probably should’ve been looked over for smoke inhalation or something like that if they’d been one of the last ones out; she certainly shouldn’t have been here.

Except she was.

More to the point, she was definitely ripe for the stanking. Her fists were clenched, her tie was askew and—yeah, that was definitely a scorch mark on her red blazer. She just stood in the middle of the room, looking at the mess. The ruin.

She should be safe. The Sorceress wouldn’t have reason to look in here, not right now, not when it was supposed to be clear and she had tons of targets outside. Except….

Except he could see this woman trembling. Anger, frustration, hopelessness—he wasn’t sure why. He just knew she was vulnerable.

After what had happened with the other lady outside, the one who’d called herself the Critic— After that, he shouldn’t have been surprised when he spotted the black butterfly. The problem was, he spotted it too late. He only noticed it when it was right there, and then it landed on the woman’s necklace and melted into it. She froze, her trembling stopping, and he overheard half of a whispered conversation that made zero sense.

Well, almost zero sense.

Let me unlock my own power. Never a good request in his book. Yes, Hawk Moth. Like it wasn’t actually the Sorceress behind this after all, just some shoob obsessed with butterflies. And, worst of all, you have a deal. Because he had no idea what that deal was, just the conviction that it was going to seriously wonk things up.

And then she…changed.

Grew.

It wasn’t exactly like watching someone be stanked, but it was close. Similar enough, at any rate. Suspiciously so. The animalistic features were all too familiar, and the shimmering purple-pink scales—slashed with green on the underbelly—weren’t a surprise, either. The wings and tail, on the other hand? The horns? The ridge of spines from nape to tail? The length of those sharp talons? Yeah, those were more surprising. The intelligence behind those dark eyes wasn’t a comfort, either.

He’d been excited to meet his first real live dragon.

He was considerably less excited to meet the second.

He wondered what the chances were of the first one coming back.

He should really go back outside. Wait for that other person to show up. Try to figure out how to fight a honkin’ dragon without endangering everyone else. The Critic hadn’t been able to breathe fire—he was not going to bet this dragon couldn’t—or fly, which had at least limited her ability to do serious damage. This time….

Randy swallowed. The Nomicon hadn’t mentioned anything about this. Maybe it hadn’t known. If no other Ninja had ever encountered the like, that was definitely possible. And how many Ninjas would’ve met a dragon that hadn’t just been created by the Sorcerer?

At least he knew how to do the Ninja Hydro Hand. That would probably help. Plus the fact that he knew why this lady had gotten stanked. Or, well, butterflied. Same idea. He’d figured out that much.

The dragon beat her wings, overturning nearby chairs and effectively ruining his cover when the tablecloth went flying, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Which was good, because it didn’t seem to be taking her long to get used to her new form. It had never taken anyone who was stanked long, either. It was like a natural instinct.

There was an upside, though: because this was definitely like someone who was stanked—he knew that from the fight with the Critic—then that should mean—

There. It was hard to pick out against the dragon’s scales, but her necklace hadn’t changed like everything else. The stank—butterfly—whatever—was inside it, and all he had to do was get it and break it and things could go back to normal.

Easier said than done.

“Whatever shoob is coming to back me up better get here soon,” Randy muttered as he stole forward, keeping low to the floor as he followed in the dragon’s wake. She flew steadily and nimbly, sliding to fit through doorways he would’ve thought were too small. He’d expected her to be like a fledgling, still figuring out her wings, but this…. This was skill, like she’d studied aerodynamics her whole life or something. Like she was a pilot, not…whatever her actual job was that had her working here.

She was fast, which meant he’d have to be faster. He’d have to find a way to hold her off until someone arrived, whether it was Mr. Mysterious Voice, Chat Noir, or the Am Drag.

The dragon smashed through the outer doors with a roar, and the screaming began. Palming a few Ninja Cold Balls, Randy ran to catch up.

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#secret quartet #adjl #miraculous ladybug #rc9gn #danny phantom #crossover #fanfiction #my writing #ladylynse #snippets #crossover snippet #dp snippet #adjl snippet #rc9gn snippet #ml snippet #so not sure if the underline will show up on tumblr #put it in via html editor #but we shall see #it's there in the offsite versions

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aethelar · 6 years

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hey might you be able to do a prompt where newt has protected graves and he looks dead and graves is a ball of angst bc dammit his love is just there no breath no movement he's gone and he gingerly picks newt up and he's angst and queenie is angst along with jacob and then boom, newts chest shifts and all is happy, its cool if u can't lmao but I'm not a talented writer or id do this myself but you, your words are art

Hello I might be able to do this prompt but on the other hand what please have I done to deserve this and why please am I being punished for it in this way

Because let’s go with this:

They were meant to be safe.

That’s the bit that will stick, the bit that come back to haunt him later; they were meant to be safe. If it was on a raid, if they’d gone prepared, if Graves had been watchful and waiting and ready then would it have been better? Perhaps. Probably not. There’s very little about any of it that could be better. But still, the worst thing, it seems to Graves, is that they were meant to be safe.

Safe.

Graves despises the word.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Tina had said, with her hair cropped short and her wand holster angled for easy access in battle. “The manpower it’s costing us is unsustainable. Knowing Grindelwald’s targets isn’t enough if we can’t keep them safe.”

He’d nodded, distracted, bent over his desk with too many papers spread out and too many glowing spell-lines connecting the important points. “Reasonable,” he’d said, like the naive fool he’d been at the time. “What’s your solution?”

If he’d been paying attention, perhaps the steadying breath she’d taken would have warned him, but. Add it to the list of things Graves’ regrets. “Evacuation,” she’d said, and all Graves had said was to ensure the targets were sent far enough away.

“No use evacuating them somewhere they’ll be tempted to come back and get themselves killed,” he’d joked wryly. “You know what our lot are like.”

“Yes, sir,” she’d answered, carefully blank. “I know.”

And Graves, idiot, blind, stupid Graves, had signed the order she gave him. It would free up at least two full time squads, another three on rotation. Defence never won the war. They had to think of the bigger picture. Pithy, hateful statements that seemed perfectly justifiable at the time - and then Tina had pushed the list of Grindelwald’s highest priority targets across the desk and Graves had grunted in annoyance at the plans she’d pushed aside in doing so.

“Sir,” she’d said. Or was it apologised? He’d mumbled his assent and pulled it closer to read.

Jacob Kowalski, the no-maj that knew about magic - the no-maj that was in danger of convincing the wizarding world the magic didn’t have to hide. A threat to Grindelwald’s fear mongering; a good choice for evacuation.

Queenie Goldstein, the legilimens - yes, wise; who knew what Grindelwald would do if he had her.

Newt Scamander, the magizoologist - Graves hissed at the thought of sending Newt away, but even he had to admit that Grindelwald’s attempts to get to Newt were verging on obsessive. Whether it was Newt’s supposed control over his creatures or his connection to Albus Dumbledore, neither of them knew, but either way it was dangerous. Newt wouldn’t like it, but it was better for him to be safe.

And then, half way down the list and past several unimportant names that Graves had flicked through with the barest pause to catalogue and evaluate -

“No.”

“Sir - ”

“No, Goldstein.”

“Sir, the number of attempts - ”

“I will not stand by - ”

“The madam president requested it specifically.” She hadn’t even shaken. Just held his gaze, immovable and unyielding and there was a part of him, now, that missed the auror she’d been before Grindelwald had made her hard. At the time he’d been too angry to care, desperately trying to think of a way to strike his name off the damnable list. She’d stood with her arms loose, her stance firm, her wand in its holster angled for easy access, and she’d told him, “You don’t have a choice.”

He’d wanted to rage. He’d wanted to fight, to deny it, to ask what use he was if wasn’t fighting and to point out that surely it was better for the war to have him until he died than to not have him at all, to claim he was integral to the aurors and they couldn’t afford to send him away -

He hadn’t. No one was so important the others would fall apart without him there. Arrogance was unbecoming, and it was selfish to think he was the only one that deserved to stay.

So here they were, the four of them, sent away somewhere safe to wait out the war and not get in the way, and the only thing Graves could console himself with was that if these were the only people he had left to protect then he was going to protect the hell out of them. He stalked their perimeters, warded their borders, hustled them out of town and on to the next place when his paranoia grew too loud to ignore - he vibrated, highly strung and always alert, and he kept his tiny family safe.

“Hey,” Newt said, once, on one of those late summer evenings when the light had turned soft and gold and the blazing heat had finally died down to something gentle and sleepy. Newt bumped their shoulders together and smiled when Graves looked his way. “Hey, it’s not so bad, is it?”

Graves shook his head, his thoughts running through the protections, the supplies, the fake names and the fake covers and the fake news articles from the cities hiding sporadic coded messages from Tina. “That’s not the point,” he said.

Newt lay back, sprawled in the dry grass with his hair fanning around his head and his eyes closed. Summer brought out his freckles; they chased each other across his nose, down the line of his neck and the undone buttons of his shirt, out from under his rolled up sleeves and over the backs of his hands. His smile was soft and gold, gentle and sleepy; the knee he used to nudge Graves into lying back with him was insistent.

“You’re going to worry yourself to death,” Newt said. “Nothing good comes of worrying.”

“Being unprepared can kill you,” Graves muttered in return. “We’re at war.”

Newt lifted himself onto an elbow and tugged Graves towards him. “Sure we are,” he said lowly, his lips almost brushing against Graves’ with every movement. “But what’s the point in being so afraid of dying that you never get to live?”

When he kissed Graves, he tasted of summer and safety and reasons to be alive and Graves was a helpless man when he raised his arms to cradle Newt and kiss him back.

He raised his arms to cradle Newt.

He raises his arms to cradle Newt.

He pulls Newt close and bows his head over him.

He presses a shaking, grieving kiss to the freckles that chase their way across Newt’s closed eyelids.

“I was supposed to keep you safe,” he says, whispers, falls apart.

“I know,” Newt replies. He flicks his eyes half-open, hazy and unfocused and lacking the strength to do anything more than that. “I know, but didn’t you think that I -” he breaks off into a wheeze that turns into a cough that turns into a hacking spasm and Graves holds him together as best he can.

“Don’t talk,” he begs. “It’s ok, it’ll be ok, just don’t talk.” Just don’t die.

“Didn’t you think,” Newt continues stubbornly, “That I would do the same for you?”

I didn’t ask you to wars with I didn’t want you to wars with I should never have let you and all three die in his throat; part of Graves wants to snarl and blame Newt for persuading him to let his guard down and enjoy life because doesn’t Newt see, doesn’t Newt know what happens when Graves lets himself stop worrying - part of him wants to blame Newt for getting in the way, for getting himself hurt and for saving his life because what’s the point of Graves being saved if his reason for living isn’t breathing -

“Newt,” he begs. “Newt please, I’m sorry, please, Newt.” His voice breaks, chokes, and he angrily forces it back to obedience. “Please. Don’t do this. You can’t. You - please.”

Newt doesn’t answer.

There are footsteps behind him. Queenie, light and fast; Jacob on her heels. He doesn’t look up, because their steps tell him they’re both alive and that’s as much as he’s able to care about.

“They’re gone,” Queenie says, triumph and pride in her voice. “All their fancy spells and Jacob blew straight through them with a bullet, they -” She breaks off, stumbling into a gasp that verges on a sob. Behind her Jacob’s footsteps slow and then stop with a heavy, wary hesitancy.

“Hey,” Jacob asks quietly. “Hey, Newt - is he...?”

Graves doesn’t answer. What can he say? Newt isn’t breathing. Newt’s eyes are closed. Newt’s head lolls against Graves’ shoulder, his hands hang limply at Graves’ side. There’s nothing to say.

“Check the wards,” he orders instead. “Tracker sweep, scrying blocks - find out how they got in.” He levers himself to his feet, Newt cradled against his chest. “If they tracked us once they can do it again; make sure they don’t.”

“But is he -” Jacob insists. Graves ignores him.

“I want the pair of you gone by morning. No where on the list; go no-maj, pick a place at random. If you’re followed, shoot to kill.”

Queenie steps forward to block his way. “You’re coming with us,” she says. It’s not a question. She already knows the answer.

He ignores her too.

“Take the supplies; leave the explosives. Kowalski, now’s the time to show me how to use a grenade.”

He resettles Newt and walks around them. His mind is ringing strangely blank, like the silence in a roaring crowd; every thought is shouting precautions, things he should tell them, feeding schedules for Newt’s creatures and corrections on Queenie’s wand technique that he never got round to showing her, the single, deafening thought that they should have had more time - but in the middle of it, Graves hears nothing. He’s told them what’s important. He’s done.

He pauses, Newt’s summer smile tugging at his conscience. “Don’t forget to live,” he says, gruffly, blankly, staring over Newt’s head as though by refusing to acknowledge reality he can go back to that evening and that smile. “We’re at war. Being unprepared is how you get killed. But don’t worry so much you forget to live.”

“Graves, you can’t -”

He can. He’s done. Newt is - Graves is done, but Queenie and Jacob aren’t and if they are all Graves has left to keep safe then he’ll set a trap for anyone that dares hurt them and with fire and fury and all the hurt he won’t allow himself to feel, he will keep them safe.

“I knew you were listening,” Newt breathes, his lips twitching up into the faintest smile.

For a long second, Graves doesn’t hear him - then it’s like a punch to the gut, all the air driven out of his lungs. “Newt?”

Newt’s hand twitches, like he wants to lift it up and rest his palm on Graves’ cheek in comfort but he doesn’t have the strength. “Hey,” he says, weak and thready but he says it, with breath and with life and his smile twists in pain when he tries to lift his head but he has a smile to twist and it shouts deafening in Graves’ head. “Don’t let him die, yeah?”

Who, Graves wants to ask, who does Newt want to keep alive and Graves will set their entire explosive stockpile on fire to protect them -

“I won’t,” Queenie says from behind him. She presses her shoulder against him in solidarity and warning. “We’ve got him, Newt.”

Jacob comes up to his other side. “Not going anywhere,” he promises, jaw set in stubborn determination.

Graves frowns at them in confusion as Newt manages a nod. Who, he wants to ask again, who is important, who are they keeping safe and why doesn’t Graves know, how can he protect them if he doesn’t know -

Queenie elbows him. “You,” she says. You idiot, she implies, but is polite enough to keep unspoken.

Graves looks between them again and he’s still too caught up on the fact that Newt isn’t dead, Graves failed but he gets a second chance to protect the man he -

Oh.

No one was so important, he’d justified to himself when Tina sent him away, that the others would fall apart without him there. But Newt was important enough to Graves and Graves, apparently, was important enough to Newt, and it was a strange and foreign feeling to have to keep himself safe to keep other people safe, but.

Newt is alive. If all Newt asks in return is for Graves to keep on living too, then fuck it. For Newt, Graves will live the hell out of life.

He resettles Newt in his arms. “New plan,” he says to Queenie and Jacob. “We rig the explosives on a decoy, meanwhile all four of us are at least two states over by the time Grindelwald comes back...”

#gramander #percival graves #newt scamander #jacob kowalski #queenie goldstein #tina goldstein #this turned into much more of a Graves character exploration #but #still the angst #which i forgive you for nonnie because at least you specified that he isn't dead #my writing #nonnie

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