#this one is under 1000 words which is unheard of from me

[chachkayes]

An Unlikely Support System - Hayes and Amelia

Yesterday’s episode may or may not have completely inspired me to write a bunch of fics. So prepare for about 4 new fics from me today, and then none for awhile afterwards unless something really sparks my interest because I have GOT to start on my last final for school that’s due in 4 days, and then I have to work. A lot. Christmas season is about to get hectic. I plan on uploading 1 Merhayes Christmas fic on Christmas day. And it’s super cute and fluffy. Anyways, enjoy this fic of Hayes and Amelia talking following the events of 17x06. This one follows canon. The next one will be an AU. Then I’ll post the second canon following fic, before the last one (the longest one) which will be back to AU. Enjoy!

“Shepherd, you okay?” Hayes called out as he noticed Amelia walking slowly through the hospital, almost in a daze. “Huh?” She responded, snapping out of her worries to look up at the person who’d called her name. “Are you alright? Did something happen with the kidnapper?” Hayes asked as he approached Amelia. “Oh, uh, no. He’s still alive.” Amelia tried to stop the tears welling up in her eyes as Hayes looked at her, concerned. “You look upset. Do you want to talk about it?” Amelia instantly understood why Meredith liked hanging out with Hayes. He was gentle, he didn’t push, but he offered to be a listening ear for the people he cared about when they needed it.

“It’s Meredith.” She finally said as she wrestled with her emotions in her head. Hayes’ heart sunk at the sound of distress in Amelia’s voice as she said Meredith’s name. “She… had woken up. And she was doing great.” Amelia took a deep breath. “Wait, she woke up?” Hayes said, confused. He hadn’t heard from anyone that she’d woken up. He would’ve gone to see her for a moment, to hear her voice and make her laugh when he was able to. “Yeah. She did. But…” Amelia’s voice trailed off as she felt herself start to cry. “The patient in the room across from her started to code. And so, she took off her oxygen, disconnected her IV and went to help because she didn’t think the code team was getting there quick enough.” She continued, with a slight laugh, trying her best to compose herself. Hayes cracked a half-smile. Of course Meredith would do that – she had once again proven herself to be exactly what he’d said she was – fierce, and someone with crazy amounts of teeth and grit. This news wasn’t surprising to him.

“But-” Amelia said sorrowfully, shaking her head before making eye contact with him and tearing up. “She collapsed. After she finished in the patient’s room.” This was the news that surprised him. “What? Is she okay?” He said, turning around, wondering if he should go check on her. “Hayes…” Amelia said again, placing her hand on his arm. “She was placed on a ventilator. She’s not doing good, Hayes. And I don’t know what to do, or how to tell the kids, Link, Maggie, Cristina, or Alex.” She said, tears falling freely from her eyes. This was the news that broke him. “I know you guys wer- are close. And I feel awful that nobody told you that she was awake. You deserved the chance to see her and talk to her.” She said as she placed her hand on his arm again.

“The last time I talked to her… she told me that she was afraid to fall asleep, because she was scared that she wouldn’t wake up. I told her that everyone was scared of her because she was so fierce, and she fought to no ends over the smallest things. That this virus had nothing on her.” Hayes closed his eyes as he told this to Amelia. He hadn’t shared their conversation with anyone. “You’ve tested negative right?” Amelia said after they’d stood in silence, sharing their grief for Meredith. “Yeah, why?” He looked at her, and sniffled. She pulled him into a hug. She knew they both needed it. She knew Hayes wouldn’t announce it publicly, but she could tell that he cared for her sister a lot, and that he had no one around to comfort him through this because they kept their developing friendship so under the radar. So, she decided that she’d be there for him. Because he was going to need it, and so was she.

After they pulled back from their hug, Amelia pulled a smile from deep within her emotions. “Shepherd?” Hayes said as she was about to walk away. “Yeah?” She turned back around. “The night she first collapsed; I was the one that found her in the parking lot. And I’ve been worried sick about her ever since. After she fell asleep, I hadn’t heard much about her condition from anyone, which was terrifying. So, thank you for updating me. I appreciate it.” He smiled weakly at her. “Thank you for finding her and being there for her. I’m glad she has a friend like you.” Hayes nodded, appreciating Amelia’s kind words. “Night, Shepherd.” Hayes said, directing a small smile her way.

As awful as the world around him seemed, he was glad to have Amelia’s support. He knew that they both would need as much support as they could get while Meredith was on the vent. “Night, Hayes. Stay safe.” She said, walking away. The feeling was bittersweet as she headed home. Hayes decided that he’d go to his hotel for a few hours, talk to his boys, get some rest, and then go back as early as possible to sit with Meredith and talk to her for a little while. She needed him again, and even if she couldn’t hear him, he’d be there for her. He promised her that when he first found her in the parking lot, and he wasn’t about to break it now.

[lillian-nator]

please do more backyard au hcs this sounds lovely

PEOPLE AND AGES - Tommy (5) Kindergarten - Techno (11) 6th grade - wilbur (18) Senior - Tubbo (4) Kindergarten - Schlatt (19) Just Graduated, goes to Community college - SapNap (7) First grade - Punz (13) 7th grade - Dream (12) 8th grade - Gogy (15) Sophomore - Ranboo (6) Kindergarten - Fundy (15) Freshman - Niki (16) junior - Puffy (17) Senior - Purpled (5) Kindergarten - Big Q (14) 8th grade - Karl (13) 7th grade ----------------------- SPECIES AND RELATIONSHIPS (put into friend groups) - Tubbo (Ram, Schlatt's son) - Tommy (Racoon) - Ranboo (enderman, kind of a street kid) - Purpled (Purple Sheep, Dream and Puffy's younger brother) - SapNap (Demon, Bad's son, Punz's baby brother)

- Techno (Piglin) - Dream (Ram, Puffy's younger brother) - Punz (demon) - Gogy  (Mooshroom) - Big Q (Duck) - Karl (Parrot hybrid)

- Wilbur (Blue Jay) - Schlatt (Ram) - Puffy (sheep - Schlatt's cousin) - Niki (fish? mermaid?) - Fundy (Fox) ----------------------- I think that Philza minecraft just slowly keeps finding kids in his backyard, and he slowly grows very attached to all of them Just like every afternoon his backyard is FLOODED with kids And he doesn’t understand why he’s the house everyone goes to, but he’ll feed them He just slowly finds himself being really endeared by each of them ------------------- And before he knows it, Phil’s warning SapNap and Ranboo away from the water, and balancing Purpled and Tommy on his hips And he knows all their allergies And all their favorite foods And he’s keeping track of the high schoolers grades, bringing Dream, punz, and techno to their games  ----------------- CARPOOL SOCCER MOM Mr. Philza Minecraft --------------------- Dream: Basketball Punz: Football Techno: Baseball Puffy: Softball Small children: Baby Soccer -------------------------- - Phil keeps track of all of boys'  games and practices. Because goddamn it, these kids deserve some sort of parental guidance - Dream, purpled, and Puffy don’t have present parents - Puffy had to step up to the plate - Ranboo’s a street kid - No one really knows if he has anyone - Bad just chilling in hell ---------------------------- Schlatt is really working himself thin, but he tries hard, he really does And everyone can see how much he loves Tubbo Sometimes Phil will wake up and see schlatt passed out on their couch. He got off at midnight But as soon as he gets home from work, Tubbo is immediately in his Dad’s arms Schlatt animatedly talking to the boy But you can just see how much love he has for his boy He’s just a bit too young to bare the burden alone ------------------------------ And the thing is, is that all of these kids are so like, independent Like Phil just needs to feed them And tend to the youngest ones every so often ------------------------------- I think it’s like musical chairs To see who’s sleeping at Phil’s house in the morning Like - who’s on the couch? An air mattress? Guest bed? Sharing a room with one of his kids? All of the small children like to pile around SapNap, who is also a small child, cause he’s warm Punz also always has children flocking him ------------------------------- Punz is also that teen who throws the kids in the pool he cant go into the water himself, prefering to lay on the grass and in the sun, but he does love just chucking kids in ------------------------------- Phil drives a beat up mini van. It’s baby blue It's always filled to the brim with passengers very dirty many crumbs has balls just thrown in it all the time Footballs, basketballs, baseballs, soccer balls it fucking smells, we all know it does Phil owns like 4 of those kid car seats despite only having one kid in that age group ---------------------------- Also if you couldn't tell Niki basically lives in the pool she's a fish hybrid so its a salt water pool instead of chlorine because its better for Niki --------------------------- Tommy, Tubbo, purpled, Ranboo, and SapNap play baby soccer its the best part of this au It’s so adorable, and Tommy picks at flowers the entire time Sometimes. Ranboo will come and entertain him for a little. Try and get him back in the game. He gives up when Tommy sits down tho Ranboo will more often then not join Tommy cause mmmm grass Tubbo is insanely competitive as a little kid we been knew though When he gets older Tommy gets really into it But as a baby He just chases bugs Plus he’s a raccoon hybrid, so shiny ------------------------ HE HOARDS SHIT UNDER HIS BED IS A MESS he as in fucking baby racoon Tommy whats the word for baby racoon small baby kit Phil 1000% calls him kit BABY RAMS ARE CALLED BUCKS FUCKING EVERYONE CALLS TUBBO "BUCK" THATS SO CUTE IM LOSING MY SHIT Things go lost? Go check tommys room Bermuda Triangle of a bedroom Very much like - Phil has to have a talk with him about it And he’s like “ I know you feel like you have to take them Kit, but they’re not yours” “If you want it, just ask me and I’m

sure we can figure something out.” Tommy also loses interest as soon as he gains it tho Tommy chitters at them They nod liek they understand and go “Uh huh, sounds mighty interesting Kit,” And then they pick him and let him climb around them -------------------------------- So much rough housing like SO much they're hybrids man Tommy also teethes ok. Chews on shit when his canines grow in so does Techno, and SapNap, and Punz (Punz and Techno's canines already grew in though, but they still chew on shit) The rams Rub their heads against stuff Head Itchy ------------------------------- A lot of Phil’s days off are just spent by the babies, just who are growing in hybrid traits He scratches Tubbo, sapnaps, and Puroled heads They’re all growing in horns Gives Tommy things to chew on Purpled. Never gets full horns. They are always little stubs just barely sticking out of his hair. His ears looks more human than ram too. Just for some reason never really grew into his hybrid traits And purple eyes He gets so upset about it too, when Tubbos horns outgrow his, because he’s older He’s a bit different. But it’s like being brunette in a family of blondes. It’s not unheard of He just is tearing up and Phil is just like “oh Bud, come ‘ere” They're like 8 And Tommy just gives Purpled the biggest hug, because Tommy is a sweetheart as a kid ------------------- I think that even the older kids wrestle Like obviously Dream, Techno and the rest of the middle school gang do Because they’re so fucking competitive Dream is so quick to just. Grab someone and wrestle them to the floor No warning But like, you’ll catch Wilbur and Schlatt jumping at each other Or Wilbur throwing Fundy over his shoulder Or anyone just man handling gogy ------------------- Phil gets to a point where he calls them all his kids And asks where they are when they aren’t At his house ------------------------ Puffy bringing them (Dream and Purpled) over after school. They go outside and play. Puffy sighs and collapses at the dining table. Phil silently hands her a coffee. “I’ll keep em busy” he says “you get some homework done” She looks up, and puts her head in her hand, “Dream has basketball practice in an hour” Phil just pats  her on the back. “I got it.” ----------------- Also let’s talk about how much food Phil needs to buy Like even if it’s just lunch That’s like 15 growing boys He can afford it, He just has to watch out for allergies He buys so many fucking snacks man Whole damn store He goes through like crates of those little chip variety packs Tubbo only likes the crunchy Cheetos Tommy likes barbecue Niki likes salt and vinegar Punz likes Doritos He knows which ones they all like I’m just imagining Phil calling out for the kids And they’re like lining out of the kitchen Oldest to youngest so that Phil can help the little ones They can eat anywhere in the yard, but Ohil has the little ones eat at the picnic table They’re all dripping wet from coming out of the pool, and he needs to make sure they eat their fruit and popsicles, they have tons of popsicles. ------------------ Phil totally takes Dad tax Like a chip from every plate And a tatertot from each breakfast very dad of him to do ------------------- Not not Phil kissing each of their foreheads goodbye And “drive safe” And “have a good day" ------------------ He’ll still pick up Texhno And Dream and Punz, right by the armpits And tucks them into bed ----------------- Tommy when he gets wet He loves swimming but the poor baby: his fur It’s hard to get him in the water but once he’s in it’s hard to get him out Because he feels all heavy and sticky afterwards ------------------ Adventures in the woods TOMMY IN HID NATURAL HABITAT Small boy makes hidey hole You may be asking Does. Does Tommy crunch on the leaves He does Like on ever y single one Carefully -------------------- All of the little kids And even technos group Just bonk heads Because of the goats They all just do it Sometimes softly Sometimes roughly Techno always does it roughly tho Rough houser Dream doesn’t mind Makes it feel like he has a

herd Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates Feeds a primal instinct for ram playmates - Small boy And puffy has outgrown it But a young piglin brute? Perfect playmate. ------------------------- AND THATS THE AU YOU'RE WELCOME

[crazypsychonerdstuff]

Like I said before, I don't normally write for Vikings (only because I've only just started watching it and I want to become more familiar with the characters!) not too sure how I feel about how this turned out BUT, despite the writer's block that's currently being a pain in the butt, I couldn't resist writing it, I have a massive soft spot for Floki too and I may have gotten a little carried away with this idea, I was intending it to be a REALLY short drabble as it is my first time posting anything other than HCs on here, I intended it to be 400-500ish words... it may have ended up just shy of 1000 (998 or smth) and I think I literally gave myself a cavity with how much floofy floofiness it contains... (well ok, it wasn't actually a cavity, but I did manage to chip a tooth when I accidentally bit a fork because I was typing it up while eating and wasn't concentrating... It hurts... nearly 24 years with no dental issues, now this! 😭)

Warnings: none unless you count excessive, tooth-rotting (well, tooth-injuring in my case!!) fluff! 

It was times like this one that made you thankful for your lover's secluded lifestyle. You were both currently sitting under a blanket of stars on the small beach not far from his home, sheltered from the worst of the elements by a large, sun-bleached  tree trunk that had been washed up on the sand of the isolated inlet during a particularly harsh storm. The waves gently lapping the shore creating an air of calm tranquillity and, despite the chill in the air this early spring night, the two of you couldn't be warmer: the fur wrapped around your shoulders effectively shielding you from the crisp breeze and Floki, curled up on a reindeer pelt, a thick woven blanket tucked snugly around him, had his head resting on your lap, his eyes closed contentedly while you stroked his short, messy hair in a silent display of affection.

You couldn't help the soft smile that spread across your face at the quiet groan of satisfaction that left his lips as you gently ran your nails over the soft skin behind his ear; "Sweetheart," your quiet utterance would have gone unheard save for the blissful quiet that encompassed the two of you.

Floki opened one kohl rimmed eye: "What is it my love?" He turned slightly so that he was lying partially on his back, opening both eyes to gaze up at you properly.  Resting his arms on top of the soft cover he lay beneath he nestled into your lap, a soft smile gracing his features as he made himself comfortable. It was at that moment that you noticed for the first time how, in the moon's ethereal glow, his irises appeared a dark stormy grey opposed to their usual deep sea blue. 

You smiled down at him unable to keep the look of adoration from your face; "Let me hold you." 

Floki grinned, his eyes twinkling with the light of the stars up above as he looked up at you before sitting up "of course my love." his approval of your request punctuated with a giggle as he all but fell into your open arms, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling the blanket up to wrap around his shoulders, the furs draped around your own engulfing his slim frame.

The next few minutes passed in comfortable silence; you had your head resting against the fallen tree trunk behind you, your fingers running absentmindedly through the boatbuilder's soft, tufty hair while he lay against your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his head on your shoulder enabling him to nuzzle into your neck, your hair tickling his face as he presses feather light kisses to your soft skin, causing him to let out occasional quiet giggles which, in turn, brought a smile to your face. 

"Floki," You ceased your absent-minded petting. For a moment, you were unsure as to whether he'd heard you, though the small, quizzical hum that he gave a second or two later confirmed that he had.

He glanced up at you then, only to notice your eyes were not on him, but instead trained on the dark sky high above. Curious, he turned in your arms so that he could see what had drawn your attention, only to let out a high-pitched giggle on seeing for himself the myriads of tiny glimmering lights shimmering against their velvet backdrop. "The Gods are certainly smiling upon us, my love." he turned back to you, his eyes reflecting the light of the millions of otherworldly constellations: "Though nothing, in this world nor Asgard, can compare to your beauty." He brought one calloused hand up to rest on the side of your face, gently brushing your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

you were momentarily taken aback by his sweet words, though he gave you no time to respond as almost as soon as he'd spoken, he dove forward and captured your lips with his own, his other hand coming up to cup your face too, preventing you from pulling away too soon, not that he needed to; your arms wound themselves around his neck instinctively as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, your bodies leaning into each other.

Breaking apart to catch your breath, you rested your foreheads together. Floki, unable to contain his happiness, giggled quietly. His hands, that up until this point still remained on your face, dropped down to rest on your hips. One more chaste kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth and he nuzzled back into the crook of your neck; "I love you." Despite being muffled from having his face hidden, his words made your heart flutter. Though you knew he loved you, he showed you every day, he rarely voiced his affection out loud. 

You grinned giddily, your arms wrapping themselves around his neck as you leaned your weight into him causing him to fall backwards onto the furs laid out on the sand, the furs that were once shielding you from the chilly air now forgotten, the blanket that Floki had been previously wrapped up in now a tangled mess around both of you but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. "I love you too, Floki." 

The happy giggles you received in response were contagious and you soon found yourself laughing along with him as he wound his arms tightly around your waist, your own, though still remaining around his neck, arranged themselves into a more comfortable position, allowing you to snuggle down on top of him. You both knew that at some point you would have to return to the warmth and security of the wooden hut the two of you called home but for now, the two of you were content to be alone in your own little haven, the noise and commotion of the village, a distant worry that entered neither of your minds as you lay beneath the blanket of stars, wrapped tightly in each other's arms.

[over-emotional-girl908]

Y/n’s death and how the team reacted

(Y/n’s POV)

Flames danced around my body. Smoke filled the air. My screams unheard. Fallen beams of wood were everywhere. The heat was unbearable. The pain was excruciating. My vision was blurry and I was gasping for air. but no matter the pain I was in the fire was memorising. The way it danced all around me was incredible. I did panic at first but that floated away as I focused on all of the good and bad memories I had made. I had been through hell but I had also seen heaven. I had made a difference in people’s life’s, I had helped people and encouraged them and supported them. I had kept fighting even though everyone thought I wasn’t strong enough and had shown that I was good enough, that I am strong enough and that I am a good person. I held on to my necklace, the one Jack had given me. It was like I was looking through a picture book of every conversation we had every touch and every look that connected us but it all got to much.

The pain was constant, and merciless. I don’t know when I started crying but I am now. The tears were refreshing against the heat but they weren’t enough to save me from turning to ash. The fire has surrounded me like a cult, I can see the faces of the people I love flash across the room before the final strike of pain hits and When it hits it hurts like nothing else I had ever felt. I said goodbye and closed my eyes for a final time. The flames covered my body and the smoke became part of me. The only thing they found left of me was the necklace that I had held on to when I died and the remains of my bones.

(Third person pov)

Ellie:

Ellie couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways things could have gone differently. She was over analysing every peice of data, every word, every move and every step that had lead to your death. She was mad and hurt and she stoped talking to everyone. She shut down and struggled to get over your death. She has framed the painting you two did together in her living room and when stressed or upset she goes to the spot under the tree at the back of the ncis build where you two used to talk.

Kasie:

Kasie was hurt but she knew that everyone else was hurting to, and she knew that the one thing you had always wanted to do was to start an spca charity so She stared a side project and after years and years she helped over 1000 animals on your behalf. She helped everyone process your death and every once and a while bring flowers to your grave. She loved listening to the others talk about your adventures and often found herself wishing that she had been closer with you.

Ducky:

Ducky was crushed. Your death had hit him more than any other agents death. You were like his grand child. He refused to even look at your body for a week. After your death all he could talk about was how proud of you he was. He bragged to everyone about how much of an amazing person you were and constantly told story’s about all of your adventures and moments in life. He hoped to inspire others by talking about your high and low points in life.

Gibbs:

Gibbs was furious. He hunted down the guy responsible for your death and killed him. Gibbs then quit ncis and drowned himself in bourbon. He visited your grave everyday for four years and refused to go back to ncis until jack showed up and convinced him that You would have wanted him at ncis and to move on. He was proud of who you had become and like ducky he often told your story to anyone who needed to hear it.

Jack:

Jack didn’t believe it at first. You had cheated death so many times before. She broke and was pissed off that You had been through so much shit and had helped so many people and still died in a way that was horrific. That You had died in the hands of one of your biggest fears. Jack and you had been very close. She had told you about wingos and her tour. She opened up to you and You did to her. Jack was one of your safe places. She always helped ease the pain and stress of life and even though it took you a while to open up to her you two became very close. She helped the team move on and get past your death and for that you would be forever Grateful.

Jimmy:

When he got the call Jimmy collapsed to the floor cried. Hugging his knees and rocking back and forth to try find some confort. He thought about all of your Goefy and fun moments. He didn’t leave until someone found him in the sitting in the dark. Jimmy was looking through an old photo album with photos of yours and his trip around the world before you joined ncis. He couldn’t sleep at night and could not stand to hear your name without crying for 3 years. He’s still heartbroken about your passing but his family and friends are helping him get through it.

McGee:

McGee stoped being able to focus. Like Ellie he began going over everything that had gone wrong, and everything little thing that had lead up to your death. He also cried and he sat Under his desk which is were you used to sit together when he had a rough day. McGee refuses to talk about you and tells anyone off if they bring up your name. Everyone is careful around McGee but Delilah has been incredible with supporting him.

Nick:

Nick hid his feelings about your passing at first and did everything he could to bring your killer to justice. He made sure everyone else was okay but he started to drink again and lost self control. He became very angry and he struggled with keeping his emotions at bay. He was ordered anger management therapy to help him get through it. Him and Ellie helped each other and they eventually bounced back to being okay, but this time they were okay together.

[entertainment]

Entertainment Spotlight: Will Vought, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Actor, comedian, and writer Will Vought stars in the most recent season of the critically acclaimed dramedy series, The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel. Additional television credits include The Good Wife, The Good Fight, both Lipstick Jungle and Love Bites, Bones, and Wilfred. Will is also an accomplished comedian, having toured the country opening for Wayne Brady. He got his start in the entertainment industry by contributing to Scott Shannon’s #1 morning show on 95.5 WPLJ, offering David Letterman updates and recaps, which opened the door for him to work for Late Night with Conan O’Brien. Following his work with Conan, Will was offered a position in the West Wing of the White House, working for former President Bill Clinton, where he still continued his radio work on the weekends as the youngest morning show host in the country at just 22 years old. Will went on to serve as head writer for Wayne Brady during his time hosting the The Late Late Show prior to James Corden in 2014 on CBS, and he continues to collaborate with renowned actor and comedian Paul Reiser, including shopping a television pilot they wrote together with Julie Bergman. We got the chance to ask him some questions. Check it out:

Do you have a favorite character arc from season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?

For Season 3, I’m finding myself really interested in Susie and her journey. I don’t want to spoil it for those getting ready to start the new season or binge the series; however, in the first two seasons, Susie’s been hustling and primarily being of service to Midge while her personal life hangs on by a thread. In season 3, there are so many more layers introduced and opportunities that will ripple into not only her clout as a comedy manager but also her personal life. Also, I’m really invested in Lenny Bruce. Having read so much about him to see his plight on screen told through Amy’s lens is incredible. I don’t know anyone in comedy that doesn’t appreciate what Lenny Bruce did for comedians. The end of the Season 3 premiere is absolutely priceless seen thought the eyes of Tony Shalhoub’s Emmy Award-winning performance as Abe Weissman - Midge’s father.

If everything that you did was narrated, whose voice would you want narrating your life?

HA! That is a great question, and I’ve had to think about it. At first, I thought of the late great voice-over artist Don LaFontaine who moviegoers would remember as the “In A World…” guy who made millions voicing almost every movie trailer ever! BUT…truth be told I think that I would love Seinfeld's voice and lens, and I think it would make my day to day activities far more entertaining to listen to, especially when on the phone with my therapist.  

Can you tell us about a time you bombed (on stage or in an audition)?

Well…the thing that pops to mind was an audition for NBC’s series called Lipstick Jungle. At the time, I was living on Long Island and decided to make the mistake of driving into Manhattan for the audition. Traffic was abhorrent, and you would think that there were mass casualties on the Long Island Expressway resulting in me being almost an hour and forty-five minutes late for the audition. The director of that episode was the one and only Timothy Busfield, whom I loved on Arron Sorkin’s The West Wing. Tim played reporter Danny Concannon - Senior White House Correspondent.

I had no idea that Timothy was going to be at the audition and was mortified when I showed up and saw him in the room because I was so late. It’s not unheard of to not be seen at all if you are late, let alone hours late. I read for the part and left. Tim was gracious. A month later, I got a call saying that I didn’t book that role; however, they were writing me another role and wanted to hire me for it. While on set shooting, Tim told me that when they asked him if he had any ideas for the part and he said, “That guy who came in 2 hours late. He was great. Hire him.” So I thought I bombed — but it worked out in the end.

The USO Tour scene from The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel broke the record for the most number of background actors used in a scene for tv in the state of New York (850). What was it like being a part of such a huge production?

I’ve never worked on Star Wars, but that’s what I was thinking of when we were filming that. It was by far the largest set I’ve ever been on, and yes there were almost 1000 background actors there for almost an entire week, who made up the audience of the USO show that you see in the season 3 premiere. When I met with Amy and Dan for the final audition for the role of Major Buck Brilstein, it was at Steiner Studios in Brooklyn in a small room that’s not much larger than a small studio apartment in Manhattan. It was the three of us and Emmy award-winning casting director Cindy Tolan. We did all the material from the episode, and to juxtapose that to being in an actual hanger with 1000 extras essentially filming a USO show that’s scripted — it was a historic moment in television that wasn’t lost on me.  

What was the audition experience like for your role on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?  

I kind of talk about that above. I had a great experience. As with anything, you have to go in a number of times, and then the final callback is with Amy and Dan Sherman Palladino. You are 2 feet away from her, there is a camera, and Cindy Tolan, the casting director, and you create the world and do the scenes — WORD PERFECT! That is a huge thing, and something I was told going in. Be word perfect every time. Their words are like notes on a page. Each one carefully picked and placed, and my job is to take them off the page and bring them to life with a sensibility of 1959 and a guy that’s a major in the army who always wanted to be a comedian but never really got the chance. So, my character is literally living his dream in this episode. Beyond that, you bring your A-game, nail it, and it’s up to Amy and Dan. It happened to go my way, and as I told Amy, I was grateful to get the invitation to play in her world. She wrote and directed this episode, so it was extra special.

Is there a specific role or moment that you feel has defined your career up to this point?

We’ll — this is pretty significant re: working with the Palladino’s.  I thought that The Good Wife was a big deal at the time — as I was part of Bob and Michelle King’s storyline that revealed Josh Charles’ character was murdered.  

It seems that I’m only allowed to act opposite actresses that have won 2 Emmy’s and 2 Golden Globes for Best Actress. LOL.  It’s truly a hard question to answer as each project is different, and as an actor, you hope that one job will open a door or opportunity to another.  That’s what I’ve found, at least over the past few years, so it’s certainly a slow burn.

Years ago, I was the low man on the totem pole at NBC’s Late Night with Conan O’Brien. I was an intern in the writing department under John Groff and often got the chance to appear in sketches on the show. This was an invaluable experience. There was an afternoon where I asked Conan (as I was cleaning his office) if he knew this was what he was going to do from the beginning. I’ll never forget what he said. He told me that, “In his wildest dreams he never thought he would be hosting a late night show.” He described show business as being on a highway. He was a writer in college, wanted to be a writer and set off on the highway with the goal of writing in mind. Along the trip, there were exits: Mad Magazine, The Simpsons, SNL. After each exit, he gets back on the journey. If you want to be a teacher or doctor or lawyer, you know exactly what to do. Go to X school for X years, and then they declare you as such. Boom. You’re it. Hollywood is not like that. Everyone’s path is so different, and how we get to where we are is almost inconsequential when compared to the culmination of the journey. I’ve been blessed to do a lot of different things so far and work with incredible talent that truly moves the needle in this business, and I hope for more opportunities.

What’s your favorite bit or joke from one of your stand-up sets?

I have a new bit I’m working on that’s fueled by my natural anger toward this situation.

I hate paper straws.

If this makes me a horrible person, so be it. If “they” think I don’t care about the EARTH or ENVIRONMENT and support the extinction of humanity because of this — so be it.

Paper straws? Really? Who did this make sense to? Who thought it was a good idea to combine PAPER and WATER?

I’m sure it seemed like a good idea at the time — but it doesn’t work. Three sips into my iced coffee and the thing has disintegrated, and I’m now drinking iced coffee and paper!

If you think paper straws are a good idea, let me ask you one question. Would you like to use a paper condom?

In the future, you’ll be standing in the rain telling your friend you can’t understand why she’s pregnant and soaking wet from holding the paper umbrella.

I will say that if we do switch to paper condoms …. I don’t know about the environment, but we will absolutely ensure the survival of humanity.

Lighting round! Describe each of the following in one word: Who you are, what you value the most, and what you’d be if you were a food item.  

I AM WILL VOUGHT.

I VALUE MOST: MY SON.

IF I WAS A FOOD ITEM, I’D BE A BEYOND BURGER!

What are you working on right now?

Right now, I’m working on sending out subliminal messages via Transcendental Meditation to Adam McKay for a coffee meeting that would result in being cast on the 3rd season of Succession on HBO.  I’d text him, but I don’t have his cell. Do you?

Thanks for taking the time, Will! Catch Season 3 of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel on Prime Video. 

Photography: Emily Assiran | Grooming Laila Hayani | Styling: Natalia Zemliakova

[just-like-playing-tag]

Hi, do you have any theories on the reward emma is going to give to the demon god? I'm curious to know your thoughts!

THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION I loved it and hated it at the same time. The thing is, I really don't know? There's only another promise we know about, and the authors let transpire very little about Emma's one, so there's only a few elements to work with! But I'll do my best.

Navigation notes in case you're interested in something in particular: the first half are hypothesis on what the reward may consist in, while the second is what I would personally like the reward to be / the serie to end like / some thoughts about the serie in general.

I reread chapters 141/142, and I think one thing we can fairly assume from Julius' reward is: Scribbles wanted to make him suffer. He wasn't intentioned to physically hurt him (actually, Julius himself is shown thinking he'd be fine with giving his life). The last time Julius talked with his soon to be betrayed human allies, from their conversation it's implied that the thing Julius cares about the most are his citizens and soldiers (which is later made evident by him deciding to sacrifice his comrades for their safety). When waiting to know what the reward will be, he says he's ready for anything, as long as he can return home.

Surprise surprise, that's exactly what Scribbles takes away from him! So, I think we can say Scribbles is likely going to ask from Emma the thing she wants the most for herself (besides the object of the promise itself). But I think there's actually another element to take into consideration from the first promise? In the promise from 1000 years ago, there was also a demons' deputy. From him, Scribbles wanted "the best meat [the demons] harvest each year". Now, I could be wrong, but it doesn't look like a big loss for Yverk, especially when compared with what Julius had to sacrifice (I have actually come up with a theory on why it's that, but since it's pretty peddling to the original question I'm talking about it in another post). Did then Scribbles favor Yverk? (maybe because he's a demon, and Scribbles is the "demons' god"?) If not, does he arbitrary decide how punitive the reward has to be?

According to what Scribbles has told Emma, I think what we can say we know for sure is that:

1. Scribbles reward from Emma is likely to be her dearest thing

2. It's something of hers

3. Since she's back and she's apparently unharmed, it's not something that has effected her immediately (but I'll get to that later)

Next are some things I came up with / I saw going around the fandom that seem to me possible to happen. I made a distinction between rewards that involve sacrificing Emma and rewards that mean sacrificing something material that she has got. I'm excluding the hypothesis of Emma sacrificing someone besides from herself because I don't think that's something Emma would ever do under any circumstances.

Things Scribbles may have asked for include:

Her brain. My personal favourite among the ones that involve Emma sacrificing herself! Her brain, as simple and natural as it sounds. Since Scribbles had before claimed each year's best harvest, it makes sense to me to have a top quality "last meal" since he likely won't be able to consume any human meat anymore.

Her memories. Awful. It wouldn't give Scribbles much payback except from the satisfaction of having made Emma and her friends forever unhappy. I wouldn't like such an ending.

Her freedom. For her to stay in the demon word. Sad. Lonely. Unoriginal. But also pretty impractical? She wouldn't have a utility or symbolic meaning like taking Ratri's freedom did. So what would the point be? Also, even if she stayed behind, since now demons don't need to eat humans anymore she would probably like... Establish at Musica's and grow old there.

Things of hers:

Her necklace???

Honourable mention is that one hypothesis I once read that basically said that since the children had struggled and suffered so much already, Scribbles considered the price being already paid (I don't think it will go this way, but it's still a nice idea I like a lot). (I'm terribly sorry I couldn't find the original post, please send it to me if you know what I'm talking about).

We also have to keep in mind that Emma has already come back from forging the promise, and she looks fine so far, so I'm partial to the sacrifice–something–different–from–herself hypothesis. I know people think her sacrifice may take place after she's done evacuating all the children to the human world, but that sounds pretty odd and unrealistic to me? What is she going to do, say "Demon god I'm done w/ my business you can come eat me now"? That would be pretty awkward lol. Of course Scribbles could have gave her a time limit but... It still sounds weird to me. At the same time, I'm not completely confident with fully excluding it since I know shock value to be a factor of great importance in tpn and shonen series in general, and for Emma to surprisingly, unexpectedly (?) die at the end would be of great impact, even though it's not my preferred ending.

That being said, I don't feel like any of these options will turn out to be the right one? I don't know, but I've always been surprised by Kaiu Shirai and Posuka Demizu storytelling, and I'm fairly sure they will come up with something unexpected and unheard of that I didn't think about before.

Now that I've listed some things I feel like could happen, regarding what I personally think the reward to be: I have no idea! Sorry for being disappointing. But again between knowing about another promise alone, and having so few details on Emma's one, I really don't feel like I can make any assumption. But one thing I can talk about is how I'd like for it to end! That is: anything, but for Emma to sacrifice herself.

There are a lot of reasons why I wouldn't like an ending where another character dies but I'm listing a few I think are the most important ones (notice that I use the concepts of sad ending / Emma sacrificing herself as the same thing here):

Ok firstly and personally what I consider the most important reason: I really don't get what's the point of a sad ending. After everything the children have been through, what would be the sense of making them unhappy / bittersweet at the end? I know people think it differently, but I can't see how such an ending would be good. I think people tend to forget that cynicism doesn't equal to dept of themes. A sad ending wouldn't leave anything in me. I know the serie has recently received some blacklash from its fandom for not being? Sad or deep enough I think? And I mean, that's fine to me if there's people who think it that way! But I personally wouldn't have changed a thing. I don't care if how the children keep going on and preserve their hope is unrealistic, realism has never been something I have looked for in this serie? There's plenty of other "realistic ", cynical series out there, even within fantasy settings. But when I decided to start reading tpn I did it because it was different from anything I had ever seen / read before. Because no matter how cruel the world revealed itself to be to the children, they kept hoping that they will find happiness. Is it irrealistic? Definitely! But I don't care? To follow a story that kept giving hope no matter how dark the world can get is exactly what I needed. To not give up even when you're at the bottom, and you're sunk in an abyss, and nobody's going to help, and it looks like darkness is enwrapping you more every second that passes, and you feel chained to the ground; that you shouldn't give up, that an happy ending will eventually come for you if you fight for it, and the world will eventually become a better place: that's what I needed to hear. And if happiness is not what they achieve at the end, then I will be left very empty, because what would all the fighting have been for? It would destroy the hope theme the serie has been so good to build so far, and that would be very disappointing. I read the story because it can help me see the world for how it could be, in spite of the way that it is. Also check out this post on why sad endings don't necessarily mean deep endings.

Would it make sense for Emma as a character to decide to sacrifice herself? Honestly it would bother me a lot. For a character who has been telling people that death is never an option, that she doesn't believe in no–exit–scenarios, to die sacrificing herself? For me that would be incoherent at best and hypocritical at worst. I don't think that's something Emma would do.

Ok so these where some opinions I'm throwing into the void! It got long,,,, thanks for reading all of it if you had! But also I don't blame you if you didn't lol

[fromcrossroadstoking]

Roe and the Christmas Miracle

Part 10 (the final part!) of Welcome to the 5061st

**I`m not the greatest writer and this isn`t exactly the most popular AU, so please know that if you have ever reblogged, commented, or liked any part of this, it has meant the absolute world to me and I love you for it. Thank you so much for reading this 💙💙💙**

Tags: @gottapenny @itisjustmethistime @indigosandviolets @scarecrowmax 

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

December 24th, 1000

Mistletoe hung in every doorway of every tent and every building of the entire 5061st. No one was entirely sure who was responsible for the mistletoe invasion (although smart money was on Luz) but plenty of people were taking full advantage of the new decorations. Needless to say kissing was at an all time high in the unit, not that anyone was complaining. Nurses, doctors, medics, regular Army, hell, even the MPs, were getting in on the fun. Even Liebgott and Grant managed to have plenty of fun under the mistletoe while no one was looking. Roe knew that for a fact. Because he had caught them. More than once.

Roe, himself, had politely avoided all full on kisses in favor of cheek kisses. Not that he was a prude, it was just that there was only one person in the entire MASH he cared to kiss and it happened to be the one person he hadn't managed to catch under mistletoe yet.

But besides that frustrating development, things were going surprisingly well at the 5061st. It had been almost a full 24 hours since they last had a patient. It was damn near unheard of.

December 24th, 1030

Another development at the 5061st was the arrival of Saint Luz. That morning, Luz had donned a Santa hat and started going around with an Army duffel full of gifts, quickly earning himself a new nickname. Everyone got something from the newly dubbed Saint Luz.

Winters got a fancy pen.

Grant got a kitchen knife.

Talbert got a deck of cards.

Liebgott got a Flash Gordon comic book.

Sisk got a new wrench and screwdriver.

And so it went - each gift small, but unexpected and deeply appreciated.

Someone pointed out that he was a day early on the gifts to which Luz happily responded that they had all been such good boys and girls that they had earned early gifts. (Roe suspected Luz was also taking advantage of the lull in patients - who knew how long that would last.)

Roe watched in amusement as Luz made his way around the camp giving out gifts with a cheerfulness that seemed to light up the whole place. He started to get fidgety waiting for his turn.

"Gene, you playin' or what?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry Ralph. Just thinkin'"

Roe`s eyes darted over the chess board, trying to figure out his next move.

December 24th, 1045

Spina absolutely crushed Roe at chess that round. Not that it was surprising, given how distracted Roe was.

After the game ended, Roe stretched out on his cot and picked up a book from the crate turned nightstand of sorts next to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Spina staring at the door, face pulled into a frown.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I`m alright. It`s just... it seems too quiet, ya know?"

Roe`s mouth twitched down into a small frown too as he thought about what Spina was saying. Not having a single patient of any sort was a bit unnerving in a way. But why look a gift horse in the mouth?

"Anyway, I`m gonna hit the showers."

"Good, you stink."

"Jerk," Spina playfully tossed a dirty sock at Roe, "How`s that for stinky?"

December 24th, 1100

Roe was sitting cross legged on the floor next to his cot when Spina returned from the showers.

"The hell you doin'?"

"Nothin'"

"Nothin'?? You`re feedin' carrots to somethin' under your cot!"

"Guess, that`s what I`m doin' then."

"Gene..." At the hint of exasperation in his voice, Roe looked up at his friend.

"It`s a bunny."

"Shit, is it Scruffy? The hell`s it doin' under your cot?"

"Ain`t Scruffy an' I`m hidin' him so Luz don`t see him before Christmas."

Roe had turned back to keep feeding the bunny but he could feel Spina`s eyes on the back of his neck.

"Are you two...?"

"No," Roe prayed that his cheeks weren`t turning as red as they felt, "we ain`t."

"You two still aren`t?! Jesus, Gene, the way you two flirt like two goddamn little school girls -"

"Ralph."

"Really, Gene, the hell`s takin' so long?"

Roe didn`t have an answer for that because, really, what was taking so long?

December 24th, 1630

It wasn't until right before dinner that Roe spotted Luz making his way toward his tent. Roe was perched on the edge of his bed, waiting. As soon as Luz opened the door, Roe was up in a flash. Roe grabbed Luz by the front of his jacket and slammed his mouth against Luz`s before he could say a word.

When he finally pulled away and let go of Luz`s jacket, Luz stood there speechless.

"Mistletoe," it was all Gene could get out at the moment. They both looked up at the mistletoe hanging above their heads.

"Oh."

"Mhmm."

"Well," Luz chewed on his bottom lip, "I am still standing under the mistletoe and, uh, I think that means you should still be kissing me."

Roe smirked a bit as his fingers once again curled in to the front of Luz`s jacket, pulling him closer, "Think you might be right."

December 25th, 0700

"Ralph? Hey, Ralph. Come on, get up."

Some days trying to get Spina up was the hardest thing Roe had to do. Spina slept like the dead (there had been a few times Roe had actually checked for a pulse). Thankfully, today Spina got up without too much prodding.

"Alright, I`m up, I`m up. What time is it?"

"It`s Christmas."

"That ain`t a time."

"Ralph."

Spina finally sat up. He reached out and ruffled Roe`s hair, "Just kiddin' Gene. I know what day it is. Merry Christmas bud."

Spina reached in to the trunk beside his bed and pulled out a small present, offering it to Roe. Roe smiled and produced Spina`s present from behind him. Neither of them could rip into the presents fast enough.

Spina gaped slightly as he unwrapped a hand-carved wooden frame with a picture he hadn`t seen before of his wife and daughter inside.

"Made it myself. An' I wrote an' asked 'em to send a picture that you didn`t have yet."

"Jesus, Gene, I..." Spina felt himself choking up and he swallowed hard, "I love it Gene."

Roe couldn`t help but feel a little proud at Spina`s reaction.

Turning his attention to the present in his hands, he finished unwrapping what Spina had got him. What he unwrapped was a book of Cajun folktales. A memory surfaced of him telling Spina briefly several months ago about how his grandma used to tell him all these stories when he was a kid and how he wished he could remember them better. It had been a small moment, but apparently Spina hadn`t forgotten it. Tearing his eyes away from his new book, he looked up at his best friend with a giant smile.

"Thanks Ralph," Roe squeezed Spina in a tight hug. 

December 25th, 0730

Roe had one other present to give today. He made his way to the 5061st`s headquarters where Luz both worked and bunked. He was happy to find Luz was already wide awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing up his boots.

"Merry Christmas George!"

Luz hopped up from the bed with a grin to kiss Roe, "Merry Christmas Gene." As he went to kiss Roe again, Roe moved back, "Hold on. Present first. Close your eyes."

Luz did as he was told, butterflies in his stomach as he thought about what on earth Roe could have gotten him.

"Alright. Open 'em."

Luz opened his eyes to see Roe holding out a cage to him. A cage that contained a bunny.

"I know it ain`t Scruffy but I thought you might like a new bunny."

"Gene! I love him!" The thousand watt smile on Luz`s face made Roe`s heart melt.

December 25th, 2100

Another day came and went without a single patient. It was highly unusual but it was hardly mentioned by anyone in the 5061st. Perhaps they were all afraid of jinxing such a streak of luck, especially at Christmastime. And now night had arrived and with it, the 5061st`s Big Christmas Extravaganza.

Everyone was crowded in to the mess tent which had been decorated with balloons and streamers - none of which were Christmas colors but during the Korean War, you work with what you can get. Grant and Talbert managed to make a cake - a cake! Everyone was wearing homemade party hats. There was music and dancing and lots and lots of alcohol. It was a real, honest to god, party.

Spina, who had already had a few drinks, was bear hugging everyone in sight. He had already squeezed Roe so hard a couple of times that Roe thought his lungs would burst. Sisk was having trouble standing up already. Liebgott, who had declared several times that he didn`t "celebrate this shit", also declared he was still up for a party and if everyone else was getting drunk, then dammit, he was too. Babe was attempting some kind of dance on top of a table and Talbert was egging him on (Roe was almost willing to put money on Babe being the first casualty of the night). Even Nixon from I Corp had showed up. He and Winters were laughing about something over in the corner.

Luz, of course, was fully in his element. He was the life of the party, cracking jokes, starting sing-alongs, making sure everyone had drinks. Good ol' Saint Luz - effortlessly making sure everyone was having a good time. 

Roe was damn near entranced watching Luz make his way around the room and when Luz`s path finally crossed Roe`s, Roe simply couldn`t keep himself from reaching out and pulling him closer.

December 25th, 2358

"You realize that once that clock strikes midnight, we`ll have had no wounded for 3 days? 3 days! It`ll be a goddamn Christmas miracle!"

At Spina`s proclamation, all the eyes in the room locked on to the clock`s hands, watching with bated breath as the hands steadily counted down the last minute until their official miracle. Many, if not all of them, stood there with a small knot of worry in their stomachs that at the very last second a chopper or ambulance would come racing in and ruin their precious moment.

Roe was almost positive that two minutes had never passed so slowly. But they passed. And without incident.

As the clock struck midnight, cheers erupted all around. The 5061st had just experienced a certifiable miracle and they were about to celebrate the hell out of it.

In the midst of all the noise and excitement, Roe managed to pull Luz outside. With Luz`s hand clutched firmly in his own, he led Luz to a quiet spot just behind his own tent.

Stopping in his tracks, he turned towards Luz and smiled, "George."

"Gene." Luz returned the smile.

Roe moved closer to Luz, the distance between them shrinking to mere inches. "Or should I be callin' you Saint Luz?"

Luz`s bright eyes peered up at Roe, "I`m not always such a saint, you know."

"Well then, Saint Luz," Roe leaned forward and pressed quick hungry kisses to Luz`s lips as he began to lead him in to his tent, "Let`s see how un-saintly you can be."

[sinfromlokislair]

Than how about this?: A naga and a fairy were best friends, however whenever winter came would the naga either travel to warmer waters or hybernate in a cave. Winter came early though, and they weren't able to get away in time. The fairy was determined to save their friend and told them how they would do it, which made the naga laugh, for how could something as small as a fairy, eat a naga?

fic is below, under read more. its very short, probably not even 1000 words. sorry, ive got two essays due this week. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCw3eHSya-4 i recommend this as background music tho

contains: soft vore, safe vore, an idiot pred

The answer is, simply, that they can’t. Watching them try and fail to nom their finger, the naga can’t help but laugh. In no way did they intend to cause offense, but they just couldn’t help it, since the sight was so foreign it evoked one of the lighter responses to such an oddity. 

The fairy, however, was not as pleased at their response. “Hey! I’m trying to save your life here!” They squawked out, placing their lips back on the naga’s finger tip. “Mmmif mmou mmon’t mmant mmhis, mmhen mmmhat mmare mmou mmonna mmoo?”

The naga shrugged. ‘Well...the circle of life is a thing. I overstuffed myself this season, and I’m going to pay for it. I hear freezing to death is one of the better ways to die, since you fall asleep before—”

The fairy flew right into their face, cutting them off with angry chatter. “No way! You’re my best friend, I’m not going to let you die just because you made a stupid decision! You do this to me all the time, there’s got to be a way I can repay you!”

The naga gave them a sad smile. “You can’t. I’m leagues too big for you to even consider eating. We’ll just have to face it this year...everyone eventually gets what they’re due, and it’s my turn.” They raised a clawed hand for the fairy to land in, holding their smile. “Our time together, though, was some of the best I’ve ever had. Thank you for that, at least.” 

The fairy huffed. “No! It does not end here! We’re going to find something to save you, or someone else to eat you, and then carry you elsewhere!”

The naga cast a glance around. They were in a valley between mountains, the caves they had been seeking still a couple hundred feet up. Around them were grass and shrubs which followed the incline of the earth, littered with rocks and the occasional withering tree. No place for a fairy. 

They looked back to their pouting friend. “Well...you guys are magical masters, aren’t you? Could you light me on magical fire until I get to my destination?” At the fairy’s gasp they gave a teasing smile. “No no, don’t worry, I was joking!”

But the fairy had jumped up, fluttering their wings excitedly. “I know! I know just what to do!” And they clasped their hands together, squeezing their eyes shut, their body glowing with magic as they focused. 

The naga raised a brow. “Woah, I didn’t mean that you should actually light me on fire, it was…” But they trailed off, a tingling starting to grow under their skin. “Uh...what are you doing?”

They didn’t get another word in before the world suddenly warped, becoming massively larger in just under a millisecond. The ground vanished from under them and they were floating in the empty air, the only thing they could see the green of the fairy’s outfit as their entire form was made as small as that of a common earthworm. Even their yell was just a tiny squeak as they began to fall—

right into their friend’s hand. They blinked, their tail immediately wrapping around their friend’s fingers for support. Above them were their friend’s triumphant blazing eyes, a glimmer of mischief winking out from them. 

“Ha! I told you I could do it!” They boasted, giving a big smile. “Now, bottoms up!”

“W-wait, are you sure you can—”

They were cut off by their friend shoving their head into their open mouth. Their face splatted right into their tongue, which covered their face in a thin layer of saliva as their friend began to taste them. A hum sounded out, followed by a gulp, and the naga realized from the sudden pull that they were going back, being pulled down, into the fairy’s esophagus. 

They’d been eaten before, as a hatchling; it wasn’t uncommon for naga mothers to swallow their young before depositing them somewhere safer. Sometimes even their friends would down them, usually as pranks. But by a fairy? This was just unheard of. 

So unheard of and foreign, in fact, that they couldn’t help but wriggle. The fairy, foreign to this, almost choked at the sudden sensation in their throat, biting down on the naga’s scaled body in response and swallowing even harder. They hadn’t a moment to taste their friend as the snake half entered their mouth and the human half vanished down their throat. 

The pressure upon the naga’s head wasn’t what they’d call intense, so when their head passed through the stomach sphincter, they barely recognized it. It was the glowing stomach lining which indicated their entrance, for the flesh in the fairy’s stomach lit up in a gentle yellow glow in response to its passenger. Their eyes shone at the sight before they were jerked into a faceplant to the bottom. 

They’d stopped wriggling, and the fairy ceased their ‘choking’, giving their chest a good pound before slurping up the snake tail. It went down easy, like a good drink of nectar, but certainly didn’t taste as sweet. They let out a soft exhale when it finally slipped into their throat, opening their eyes just in time to see their belly starting to expand. They’d shrunken their friend to a very minute size, but even so their full body made a bulge upon them. Smirking, the fairy gave their tiny gut a pat. 

“See? I told you I could do it!” They declared in a triumphant tone, at which the naga wriggled and they had to resist throwing up. “OOMP--only took...a bit...of magic!”

The naga, who’d in truth been trying to settle in a comfortable spot, rolled their eyes. ‘Alright, alright, you’ve done it, now how long is it going to be before we arrive at a suitable cave?”

The fairy’s bravado faded. “Um…I’ll figure it out!” They puffed their chest out, tightening the walls of their belly. “I’ll ride a wind up the mountain, and find you the best cave available!”

“And what will you do when we arrive?” They tapped the glowing wall, at which the fairy cupped a hand over their mouth. 

“L-let you out...oogh...please don’t move, it doesn’t feel good…”

[rabbitindisguise]

like i thought it just meant you can move your joints farther but i didnt know it caused pain

It depends! I'm glad you asked, anon

So, you're basically not wrong:

GJH (generalized joint hypermobility) is just a diagnosis given to people the fit the Beighton score. Cut and dry. Doesn't necessarily mean any more or less than "how wibbly are your joints" in doctor speak

For me that means I can touch both my thumbs to my forearms, I can put my hands flat on the floor when bending over, and my pinkies bend back past 90° on both sides. I also might be able to hyperextend my knees, if not for my tight hamstrings (potentially contractures, idk I'm looking into it). The diagnosis itself is not necessarily a sign someone is in pain. Here's a page on the scoring method. Notice the lack of "do your bones hurty" questions.

While most people have asymptomatic GJH, I've been dislocating my hips almost my entire life and have lived with chronic pain since I was a wee. My first memories of going on a trip to a family lake include complaining about "splinters" which was actually tendonitis pain. It's been over 15 years, and that pain from an old overuse injury has never gone away- that's the kind of bullshit hypermobility can pull. Lots of people have all sorts of stories about what GJH looks like for them and they're wild as heck. People that, because of their hypermobility, have stuff joints that have decreased range of motion. Because the universe likes being complicated, I guess.

It really depends on someone's actual reason for it though. People can inherit it (me, since I have a family history of hypermobility), or acquire it through athletics or an illness. Mostly hypermobility causes general wear and tear, and symptoms of that kind kick in roughly 22-36 . . . or rather, that's roughly when symptoms are diagnosed officially. Mostly it's joint pain, dislocations, subluxations, the tendency to get muscular injuries, that kind of thing. A dislocation is often a non-event for me because my tendons are so lax the bigger just pops right on back in there. Someone can have 1000s of subluxations or even dislocations and not know it's a bad thing. Feels like you're made of silly puddy or pain, which can get mistaken for arthritis- a condition common alongside hypermobility of many kinds.

If any of that stuff sounds familiar, I highly recommend looking into EDS as a possibility

The typical idea of GJH is being "double jointed," or doing party tricks. The human body is more pliable before puberty so those party tricks are especially common during elementary school. You know. For funsies. I actually couldn't do any fun ones because my hips were too loose and I'd be in a lot of pain if I tried. Hypermobility is culturally associated with contortionists, gymnastics, ballet, and anything else that benefits from flexibility. A larger range of motion, and a higher Beighton score, can be built up over time through careful diligent stretching. And isn't unheard of as a genetic quirk without necessarily causing problems. But it's also connected to many disabilities where the hypermobility plays a central role to the ongoing problem with completing necessary daily life tasks.

So hypermobility is definitely something increases range of motion, but not necessarily just that. It's a lot like . . . I dunno, how being near sighted can be its own thing that doesn't necessarily impact someone in any way. They might not even need glasses. But people can be near sighted because, or in addition to, a medical diagnosis. Nearsightedness can be progressive. Someone can even have a fixed amount for a large portion of their life. Nearsightedness can be a disability in of itself. And other medical conditions can cause nearsightedness. But ultimately, it's usually up to the person what "being nearsighted" actually means. That's all the boring "this is why people use words in multiple ways" type explanation. For me, hypermobility has been a dang pain in the ass (er, literally. The sacroiliac joint is evil, why do we even have it in the first place). That's why I identify it as the problem. I also don't know how else to talk about my potential-but-not-confirmed-suspicion of an EDS subtype without sounding like a disability hipster. "I have lots of obscure symptoms associated with a rare disease, you've probably never heard of it :/” etc etc. It's just not very cash money. It sounds better, lmao, basically, is that TL;DR on this long ass post.

But still. For anyone not really impacted, you generally get the range of motion definition for GJH. But for many people impacted by their hypermobility, its importance is elevated. Hypermobility is an important term community-wise also, because it connects a lot of disabled people that otherwise would be split up by their diagnosis. This is mostly because there are 13 subtypes of EDS alone, and hundreds of other heritable conditions that look like EDS, on top of things like arthritis and lyme that can also impact connective tissues. By themselves, EDS and other heritable conditions (often grouped under "rare diseases") are less common than most other disabilities. But together we have stronger voice to combat issues relating to the various disabilities connected to hypermobility.

Overall, I'd say hypermobility is overlooked by many doctors with stereotypical mental images of what hypermobility is supposed to look like, too, which doesn't help. These doctors often don't feel confident in their ability to identify it- thinking that someone would have already long since found out if they "really" had it anyway. But doctors in the field of EDS related medicine think that the "rare conditions" that hypermobility are associated with are commonly undiagnosed, rather than uncommon. Being pointed in this direction took me a long time, even though I have "severe pain" because of it (ugh, any amount of pain is bad, but this is the kind of thing People Assume about disabilities- undiagnosed folks are edge cases rather than just as ill). Having ADHD and being active in disability communities were what helped me know what was going on, so hopefully this helps pass that goodwill along!

[vex-bittys]

Need to Be Needed, Want to Be Wanted

Note: I went a wee bit (ok about 900 words) over the 1000 word maximum, but man, this story just wanted to be written. That’s why it’s under a cut.

She blended so well with the shadows that he almost didn’t see her in the inky gloom of her surroundings. The Horrortale Sans bitty, a Shears type, scavenged the alley behind the restaurant, searching for discarded foodstuffs or fresh prey, whichever he found first. She listened to him scurry about, silent, unable to see his movements due to her blindness but able to pinpoint his location nonetheless.

“There’s dinner scraps from the steakhouse in the middle dumpster. Some of it’s still warm,” the young woman offered helpfully without even turning her head in the bitty’s direction. He glared at her, suspicious that she might be trying to trap him.

Giving the human a wide berth, the Shears bitty circled the dumpsters and trash cans, sniffing here and poking there. The rats and raccoons had long since departed, having taken their share of the refuse earlier in the night. A tantalizing aroma wafted from the middle dumpster. The little skeleton scratched and scrabbled at the rusted metal, but he couldn’t gain access to the morsels inside.

“Do you need help?” the woman asked, shuffling forward with an awkward gait, hands outstretched in front of her. The feral bittybones darted behind some haphazardly stacked cardboard boxes to hide just in case she decided to attack. She didn’t. Instead she patted the empty air in front of her until one of her hands brushed the corner of the dumpster.

Surely the dim glow of the far-off streetlights was enough for her to detect an object as large as a dumpster, thought the Shears. That’s when he noticed that her eyes were closed.

“you’d be able to see where y’were goin’ if ya opened yer eyes,” growled the Shears bitty from his cardboard fortress. She laughed softly in response, lifting the plastic cover from one side of the garbage receptacle.

“Not likely,” she said. “I’m blind. Eyes open or closed, it all looks like darkness to me.” She rifled around from a moment, and the bitty couldn't help leaning forward in anticipation. He hadn't eaten in days, and the scents from the garbage were absolutely mouthwatering.

Peering out from his refuge, the hungry bitty watched the woman fish a bone with a large bit of meat still attached from the dumpster. She crouched down, dangling the prize a few short feet from where he hid.

It was hard to identify the type of meat on the bone. It might be lamb. It might be beef, but the Shears bitty didn’t care what animal it came from. He wanted it badly, so badly, but he did not trust the allegedly blind human. He heard stories on the streets of humans capturing stray bittybones for fighting rings or to sell to science laboratories for experimentation. He avoided those fates by being street smart, and that involved a great deal of mistrust.

As if she sensed his misgivings, the woman sighed and placed the delectable morsel on the ground. She took several steps backwards before addressing him. “I’m not trying to hurt you, but I’ll give you space while you eat if it makes you more comfortable.”

Unable to wait another moment, the starving bitty rushed from his hiding place, grabbed the proffered food, and quickly dragged it back under the cardboard. He tore into the meat with gusto; he hadn’t tasted anything so delicious in his entire life. It wasn’t even moldy!

“so what’re ya doin’ hangin’ out in a place like this?” asked the Shears once the meat had been consumed, licking grease from his phalanges. Probably waiting to kidnap unsuspecting Horrortale bitties, he thought, gnawing the bone for any possible remaining flavor.

The woman smiled. “I was walking back to the shelter where I’m staying, and I took a wrong turn,” she admitted. “I had to rest a moment and reorient myself. It’s easy to get lost in the city even if you have perfect vision.” She chuckled a bit at the weak joke.

The blind woman’s harmless demeanor didn’t fool the Shears bitty in the slightest, but he never got the chance to confront her about it because thunder crashed overhead, making him jump in fright and bump his skull on the cardboard above him. He hadn’t noticed the gathering thunderclouds in the already dark night sky. Lightning flashed, throwing the alley in sharp relief briefly then plunging it back into darkness. Thunder crashed again, louder this time, and the clouds let loose. Rain poured down hard enough that the Shears bitty’s shelter immediately began to buckle.

Yelping in surprise, the woman spoke quickly to the Shears bitty, making him an offer he couldn’t refuse. “You can’t stay out here in this weather. If you want, you can hop in my satchel, and I’ll take you back to the shelter with me.”

“shelter?” asked the bitty, though he was already unfastening the satchel flap to climb inside. The woman made no effort to touch or grab him, which he appreciated.

“It’s a homeless shelter,” she explained, “but at least it’s dry and warm.”

The Shears bitty grunted his agreement, and the blind woman set off. She walked purposefully, counting her steps and turning corners with confidence.

“stop!” shouted the bitty as she stepped out into the street and right in front of a moving vehicle. The car swerved, narrowly missing her.

“I didn’t even hear it through the rain,” she whispered.

“s’alright,” mumbled the miniature skeleton, “i don’t wanna end up as roadkill any more'n you do.” He blushed, embarrassed by his own good deed. They arrived at the shelter a few moments later. An attendant at the front desk greeted the blind woman, referring to her as Void; she nodded a greeting without pausing on her way to the dormitory area.

Beds lined the walls of the dormitory rooms, some occupied, some empty. A quick count revealed a relatively small number of humans in residence, but their presence still made the Shears bitty nervous. Void noticed his growing unease as she brought sheets and blankets over to make her bed for the night.

“You can sleep up on the bed with me, or if you’re more comfortable keeping a low profile, I can tuck the satchel under the bed and you can sleep there,” suggested Void. The Shears bitty opted to set up his own little camp under the bed. He fell asleep quickly to the sound of rain battering the homeless shelter roof.

Sometime in the early morning hours, movement nearby awakened the Shears bitty. Peering out from his improvised nest, he spotted another human attempting to drag the satchel out from under Void’s bed! Snarling, the Horrortale bitty sank his fangs into the offending hand. When the hand withdrew, the bitty followed it, confronting its owner with further snarls.

“takin’ what ain’t yers is a good way to lose a hand,” he growled. Without a word, the thief fled, and the bittybones returned to his temporary satchel home, pretending he didn’t hear the softly whispered “Thank you” from the bed above him.

The next morning dawned with a clear sky, warm golden sunlight, and not a rain cloud in sight. The Shear bitty emerged from the satchel to see Void’s upside down face greeting him as she leaned over the bed.

“Would you like to join me for breakfast? I wash dishes at a local diner, and the owner lets me eat breakfast there before I start my shift. It’s all I can really offer to repay you for your help last night.” She didn’t mention which she was thanking him for- saving her from the car or protecting her belongings- but it made no difference to the ravenous bitty. He never said no to a free meal.

The little skeleton rode in the satchel on the three-block trip to the diner. On the way, he and Void struck a mutually beneficial bargain. Void would keep him fed and sheltered if he would be her seeing-eye bitty. The job sounded easy enough, and the payoff was well worth it. Void gave him a big slice of ham for breakfast with a promise of more food later! Eating twice in a single day? Unheard of in his former life!

The Shears bitty and his human companion settled into a routine that evolved as their relationship with each other progressed. The bitty eventually moved from sleeping in the satchel to claiming a spot on Void’s pillow next to her. With a service bitty to help her, Void found a better paying job. She even moved in with a friend from her workplace a few months after the two of them started dating. As her living situation improved, so did the Shears bitty’s.

As time passed, Void worked her way up to a job in which she didn’t really need an assistance bitty to help her. She assured the Shears bitty that he would always be welcome at her workplace, but he could also stay home if he preferred a life of leisure. The formerly feral bitty never could’ve imagined the life he had now: a home with all of the amenities he could ask for, including all of the food he could eat, with no expectation of repayment.

The Shears bitty missed Void’s company though, and he often chose to accompany her to the workplace. Watching her work without his help only made him feel more useless and out-of-place in her new life though. One night, he overheard a conversation that confirmed his deeply rooted and entirely new fear of abandonment and loneliness.

“I don’t know why you keep that creepy bittybones around. If you feel like you still need a service bitty, we could get you a real one.” The voice belonged to Void’s significant other, and it drifted from the kitchen into the bedroom where the Shears bitty laid curled up on Void’s pillow.

“He’s not creepy,” Void’s voice insisted, “and honestly, I really don’t need a service bitty anymore anyway.” The Shears bitty froze. Void didn’t need him anymore. Dejected, the Horrortale bitty trudged across the mattress to the bedroom window.

“You’re lucky you can’t see him, Void,” the significant other continued. “He’s got a gaping hole in his skull. He has an eerie red eyelight that glows in the dark, and his other socket is blank and empty. He is one hundred percent creepy.”

Exerting every bit of strength he possessed, the small skeleton managed to push the window open a few inches, just enough for him to escape back to his old life… a life where he didn’t need to fear being rejected by someone he had begrudgingly come to care about.

“You’re right, I am lucky I can’t see him. Thanks to my blindness, instead of judging him based solely on his appearance, I can judge him based on his actions. He protected me and helped me when I needed him most. I fed him, sure, but he could find food on his own. He didn’t need me, but I needed him, and he was there for me. How could you even suggest that I replace him?” Void spoke with a quiet passion that touched the Shears bitty down to his very SOUL, but she wasn’t done speaking yet.

“I would rather be homeless again than get rid of my darling Shears.”

Lowering the window, the Shears bitty climbed back up onto Void’s pillow. He feigned sleep when she entered the room, but she knew his breathing patterns too well and wasn’t fooled in the slightest.

Void laid down on the bed, placing her head on the pillow next to him. “I was so scared that you left. I’m glad you stayed.”

Of course she’d heard him opening the window; Void had excellent hearing. Wiggling closer to her, he nuzzled her cheek.

“me too.”

More Drabbles | INDEX | Read on AO3

[your-kpopmama]

1000 Follower Drabble - #3

Song Rec: Dawn of Us - Jackson Wang

Word Count: 3175

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Jackson x Female Reader

Type: Werewolf!Jackson

AN: Wow I ran with this one too. Jesus I didn’t mean for it to be this long. ;-; ENJOY ANYHOW

“You’re doing great.” The old man beside you whispered words of encouragement. He was currently smoothing your damp hair away from your face, as another wave of pain tore through your body. Screaming in the darkness, the sound reverberated off the stone walls. A cold cloth was placed on your forehead, soon to be scalding hot from your own body temperature burning up. You have never been this hot in your life, and you were convinced you were melting into a puddle on this god forsaken cave floor.

“She’s not going to make it.” the old man spoke to someone you couldn’t see. You may have been out of it from the pain, but you were awake enough to understand what he was saying. You silently cursed yourself for taking on that campers request. In all your three years of working as a park ranger in this part of the country, wolves had never been a problem, it was simply unheard of. You wanted to prove that camper wrong, that were in fact weren’t any wolves in this area, and you ended up being proved wrong. 

You walked down a dark path next to the campsite where the man was staying. Rustling was heard all around you. You assumed it was some rabbits or something, but you were sorely mistaken when a large wolf came bounding out after you. Teeth bared, and breath visible in the darkness. You screamed and dropped your flashlight, turning on your heel trying to get back to the park’s jeep. You weren’t fast enough. It gripped your ankle and dragged you down, shaking it’s head and twisting your leg - a horrible crunching noise filling the night air - and you knew it was broken. It made sure you weren’t getting away.

Just as fast as it had happened though, it was over. The wolf was gone, and the only thing around you was silence, You didn’t even have the energy to cry. It wasn’t until some time later that a man around your age found you. You begged him to take you to a hospital. He asked what happened and you explained. He cursed, at what you weren’t sure, but he loaded you up in the jeep nonetheless and drove deeper into the forest. Through the haze that was settling in around your vision, you looked at the man driving your jeep. His face was contorted in worry. He kept sneaking small glances at you, worry radiating off his body. He was shirtless, you noticed. He wore a pair of simple workout shorts and had no shoes on from what you could tell. His hair was short and black, hardly moving in the wind that blew through the open windows.

“Where..where..are we..” you couldn’t form a full sentence before pain ripped through your body and a loud scream took place of the words. The man driving cursed again and the jeep sped up. 

He took you to a save deep into the forest from what you could tell. He hopped out of the drivers seat and made his way towards you. You felt his arms slip under your body as he began to carry you. The pain was too much and you lost consciousness.

It wasn’t until that older man was telling you one thing and telling someone else, whom you assumed was the man who brought you, another thing. Were you doing great? It didn’t feel like it. So maybe the truth was that you weren’t going to make it. What kind of infection spreads that quickly? You didn’t understand. You didn’t want to understand. You just wanted to go home and lay in your bed and curl up with your cat. Visions of your family began flashing through your mind as you began to lose consciousness again.

--

“Hey, you awake?” you felt a hand caress your cheek softly as a cold cloth was placed on your forehead once again. This time, it stayed cold. Your body was no longer burning up and you felt amazing.No more pain. Nothing. Maybe you were dead.

“Am I dead?” you voiced.

A soft chuckle came from beside you, “Far from it. You’re alive and you’re healthy. That’s all that matters.”

You nodded and tried to open your eyes slowly. You were expecting bright white light, but what you got was a soft glow of an oil lamp beside the bed you were laying on. Shadows dances across the wall with the flicker of the flame. You turned your head to the left, where the man was sitting and noted it was the same man from last night. Maybe last night? You weren’t sure how much time passed. However, this time he was fully clothed in a black tshirt and a pair of jeans.

“I’m Jackson.” he said with a toothy grin.

“YN.” you croaked.

“Are you up for some chit chat?” a familiar voice came through the half lit room. Jerking your head in that direction, startled, you saw the old man from last night. He seemed to be in better spirits than the other night.

“Yeah.” you breathed.

He walked further into the room and sat down on the chair Jackson was previously sitting on. He moved the chair a bit closer to you and began rummaging through a bag he had brought in with him. He pulled out a stethoscope and began checking your vitals.

“You’re a doctor?” you asked.

“I’m a vet.” he answered bluntly.

“A vet? Don’t you think I need a doctor?” you asked confused.

The old man put down the stethoscope and looked at Jackson with an accusing look, “You didn’t tell her yet?”

“She just woke up before you walked in. It wasn’t exactly like I could be like ‘hey you’re a werewolf, welcome to the pack’ now could I?” Jackson spat back.

“I’m sorry what?” you asked laughing. “A werewolf? What are you guys smoking?” 

THe room got quiet and the old man just raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips before getting up and walking towards the door, “I’ll just let Jackson explain.” was all he said before he disappeared.

You sat up in the bed, adjusting the covers around you, suddenly realizing you were in different clothes than from yesterday. You could question him later about which of those perverts saw you naked. Right now, you needed information on what the literal fuck these people were going on about. Your arms crossed in front of your chest as you stared at Jackson for an explanation. 

“Well?” you pressed.

“It’s easier to show you than explain, I supposed.” he scratched the back of his neck and stepped back. He removed his shirt, and for the first time you got a good look at his body. It was ripped and you weren’t ashamed to be staring. It wasn’t until he leaned down to take his pants off did you take your eyes off of him.

“What are you doing?!” you squealed, pulling the blankets to cover your face.

“Please, you’re going to have to get used to it. Nakedness isn’t a big deal around here.” he scoffed.

You pulled the blanket down to uncover one eye and saw Jackson standing there in all his naked glory. Well, he at least had the decency to turn around so the only thing you really saw was his ass. He looked over his shoulder, worry etched into his features, “I know you’re going to freak out, but please, keep the screaming to a minimum.”

“Why would I- OH MY GOD!” you shrieked as you started to watch his body ripple. His skin began to shed and in it’s place, fur grew. He went from standing on two legs to all fours. Hands and feet turned into paws, and his face turned grotesquely into that of a wolves. In the matter of thirty seconds, a man turned into a large black wolf right in front of your eyes. Your eyes were boring into his. Not breaking contact. You could have swore the damn thing smiled, that couldn’t be possible, right? Animals can’t smile.

Just as fast as it happened, he turned back into a human again. This time facing towards you, so you got the full view this time around. In your hurry to cover your eyes, you managed to fall off the bed and land with a loud thud onto the floor. Jackson was suddenly kneeling beside you, helping you back up into the bed.

“Are you alright?” he asked concerned.

You nodded and looked at him, realizing he was still naked, you swatted at him to get away, “For heaven’s sake, put some clothes on!” you shouted, earning a laugh from him as he gathered his clothes and dressed quickly as you kept your head turned.

“Done.” he said.

Swiveling your head back towards Jackson you saw that he was in fact dressed once again, relief flooding through your body. He may be okay with being naked in front of other people, but you weren’t. “So, that proves you’re a...a..were..wolf..” the sentence felt weird rolling off your lips, “but that doesn’t prove I am.” you said defiantly.

Jackson sighed and grabbed a mirror off the table and held it up towards you. The reflection that stared back at you wasn’t human, entirely anyhow. Your ears were pointed at the top, your skin a bit darker than what it usually was. The thing that shocked you the most was the bright blue eyes that stared back at you instead of the normal dark brown. Your hands moved to your face as you began to feel all over your features. “This is a nightmare.” you whispered.

Jackson sat beside you and shook his head, “Afraid not, princess. It’s real life. Don’t worry though. Your features will go back to normal after another 24 hours. It’s a side effect of the change.” 

“So what.. that wolf that attacked me...that was a werewolf? What, do you guys just go around biting random ass people?” you could feel yourself getting heated.

“No. We don’t know who that was. A rogue I’m assuming.” he explained.

“It doesn’t matter! Things like that shouldn’t even happen! What did I do to deserve this?! I didn’t ask for this!” as if it was out of your control, your temper was building up. You felt like you were going to explode.

“Hey...yn, calm down..” Jackson stood up and backed away a few steps, his hands held up.

“Calm down?!” you laughed crazily, “You want me to calm down?!” your body felt like it was vibrating. It was thrumming with adrenaline now.

“Listen, if you don’t calm down, you’re going to change. You can’t do that just yet. You’re not prepared.” Jackson tried reasoning.

“Do you think I would be prepared! This is madness!” and that was all it took. You could physically feel your skin shifting. You could feel it ripping as patches of fur began to take over your body. THe pain was excruciating, but thankfully not as bad as the night you were bitten. You fell off the bed and landed on all fours. You began to scream. The scream slowly turned into a howl and before you knew it, you were a full blown wolf. You could feel your body panicking. You were shaking and you were scared. You looked around the room for Jackson and noticed him standing in front of  you, eyes wide in wonder. You looked down at yourself and saw your fur was stark white, compared to his midnight black fur.

“Yn, just sit still okay?” Jackson cautioned.

You just stared at him, still unsure of what to do so you stood still as possible. You watched him through wary eyes as he came closer to you, hands outstretched. His fingers found his way into your fur on the top of your head. He knelt down in front of you and he held your face in both of his hands, his thumbs stroking the side of your snout. “That’s a good girl.” he cooed. You let out a low growl, it’s not like you were a dog.

“It’s alright, princess. I’ll take care of you. I know you want to turn back, but you have to calm down first. Once your nerves are calm, you’ll change back, okay? Easy peasy.” he instructed. 

You leaned your head down and attempted to lay down, falling in the process, not entirely sure how to work your limbs just yet. You lay on your side and just looked around the room. Jackson sat down fully beside you and moved your head so it was in his lap. His fingers stroked through your fur gently. You would be lying if you said it didn’t feel good, because it did. So good you had to refrain yourself from kicking your back leg in pleasure.

“It’ll be okay, YN. I promise.” Jackson murmured from above you. You huffed through your nose and he just chuckled. “It takes some getting used to, but it gets easier. Pretty soon you can do this at will, angry or calm orr whatever emotion you’re feeling.”

You didn’t want this, but you didn’t have much of a choice. You felt yourself getting tired, so you decided to close your eyes for a moment, and enjoyed Jackson’s fingers scratching behind your ear.

--

“Try it again.” Jackson instructed.

The two of you were currently outside during daylight for what felt like the first time in eons, but it’s really been a week. News reports played in the back of your mind about your disappearance from the camp ground over a week ago and oddly enough you felt relieved everyone thought you were dead. You wouldn’t know how to live your life around them like this.Jackson had introduced you to the whole community in the middle of this National Park you worked at. You knew it was vast but you didn’t know how big it was that it could hide a whole village of people basically. Everyone was really accepting of you.

“I’m tired!” you whined.

“Boo hoo. One more time then we can go clean up. Come on.” he hunched forward with his hands on his knees, getting into position again. The two of you were currently running through some exercises to help you and your ‘inner wolf’ gain strength. You sighed and crouched down before you took off sprinting across the field and slamming your body into Jackson’s. This time though, you managed to catch him off guard and knocked him to the ground.

Your body lay ontop of his, arms on either side of his head as you grinned triumphantly down at him, “How was that?” you asked breathing hard.

He just nodded up at you and cleared his throat, “Pretty good, actually. I wasn’t expecting that.”

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before he cleared his throat again and gave you a look, did you finally realize you were still on top of him, panting like a dog. Which technically you were, but that’s on technical terms. You got off of him quickly and stood up, offering your hand for helping him up. He grabbed a hold of it and instead of allowing you to help him up, he pulled you back down as he rolled his body on top of yours, pinning you down.

“Bet you weren’t expecting that.” he grinned.

“That wasn’t fair.” you whined again.

“Life isn’t fair.” he stuck his tongue out at you.

“Tell me about it...” you grumbled and looked anywhere but at him.

“Hey..” he whispered. He rolled off of you and sat beside you, helping you into a sitting position. “I know you don’t like this, and I wish there was something I could do for you, but let’s try to make it the best we can, okay?” he offered.

“I’m sorry. You’re giving me all your time and attention to help me out and I’m being a whiny brat. I’m thankful, truly for everything you all have done. And despite this being a shitty situation, I guess it was better than me either dying in the woods or turning into a werewolf and eating my whole family the first time I raged out.” you laughed humorlessly. 

“People don’t taste good, you wouldn’t have eaten them.” Jackson declared.

You looked at him in shock, “YOU HAVE EATEN SOMEONE!?”

“What! No! From what I hear. I have never turned a human so I can’t even imagine what they would taste like. But I would assume disgusting. I’ve heard stories.” he explained.

“Mhm.” was all you said.

“I know things are really tough right now, but I just want you to know I will be there for you through it all.” he said, his eyes boring into yours.

You smiled and nudged him with your shoulder, “I know you will. You’re stuck with me. I’m like a stray kitten you feed one time. I just keep coming back until you have no choice but to keep me.” you giggled.

“I’m okay with that.” he breathed. His eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment before back to your eyes. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

The compliment took you by surprise and you could feel yourself flush from head to toe. You turned your head to the side and tried to hide behind a curtain of your own hair. “I didn’t tell you that so you would hide it from me, YN.” 

“I know. It just shocked me is all...” you whispered.

Jackson’s fingers hooked under your chin and turned your head towards his so you were facing him once again. “I mean it, you’re beautiful.” he stated a second time.

A smiled formed on your face, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours ever so softly. It felt like they weren’t even there. Your own hands reached up and held tightly to the front of his shirt as you pulled him closer, crushing your lips together.

After a moment he leaned back and placed his forehead against yours, “I want to make this process as easy for you as possible. I want to be the one you run to when you need help.” his confession earning him a smile.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” and with that Jackson pressed his lips against yours once more. 

Maybe being a werewolf wasn’t such a bad thing. 

[philosopherking1887]

Prince of Darkness, Part III

My 666-follower giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard, which I originally intended to be between 1000 and 2000 words, is now more than 7000 words... and I still have one part left. This is even worse than the time my 2500-word giveaway fic for @darklittlestories came out at 5200. Length limits are seriously not my thing.

Part I, Part II

————————————

Thor was beginning to think he might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her (he called himself her “advisor,” which seemed odd considering that she held no political power) had given his implicit permission.

So it came as a complete surprise when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode, “Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?”

Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full measure of her fury and disappointment?

He emerged from the room where he had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.

“Mother, I did not expect to see you,” he said cautiously.

“Thor, my son,” she said, her voice thick, and rushed forward to embrace him.

“Mother, I don’t understand… I thought you blamed me for Father’s death, had forbidden me to return…”

Frigga drew back with a look of consternation. “Who told you that?”

“Loki. He came here to see me, two days ago now.”

Frigga shook her head frantically, a hand straying toward her mouth. “No, Thor, your father is still alive, though he did succumb to the Odinsleep after putting it off for so long. But Eir and I have had to wake him before his strength was fully restored.”

“What? Why? Why would Loki lie to me? Mother, what has happened at home?”

Frigga closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she answered, and how had Thor not noticed the redness around her eyes? “Loki is… missing. No one has seen him for two days. Which might not be a cause for alarm, except that…”

“…he was King while Father was Sleeping. And Heimdall has seen nothing?”

“Nothing of Loki, no. He has known for some time that Loki can conceal himself when he wishes, but we assumed it was only some foolish love-affair he wanted to keep secret… But what he has seen is even more troubling. Jötunheim is awake again, showing an energy and rebuilding at a pace that can only mean…”

“…the Casket,” Thor filled in. “Where is it?”

“Not in the Vault. We looked, General Tyr and I, and it seemed to be there. But on a hunch, I shielded my hand and tried to touch it, and it vanished. An illusion.”

Thor’s mind insisted there was only one way to put together the information he was receiving, but his heart refused its verdict. “They must have captured Loki, forced him to call off the Destroyer…”

“Oh, Thor…” Frigga’s voice cracked. “You must speak with your father. Call Mjölnir and we shall go at once.”

“Mjölnir? But I could not lift her…”

“Your father has lifted the banishment. This is too important, and we need you.”

Thor raised his hand and reached out for his weapon… and she answered. After a few moments he realized that he needed to go outside so that the hammer would not come crashing through the glass doors.

Having Mjölnir back in his hand comforted him… but the worry he felt for Loki was too sharp and pressing for even her presence to offer much relief. He bade his Midgardian friends a hurried farewell, thanked them for their help and hospitality, promised to come visit them when he could. Then, with Mjölnir’s aid, he and Frigga flew back to the Bifröst site, she called to Heimdall, and in scarcely an instant they were back in the Observatory… in the place where, barely four days ago, his world had fallen apart.

Horses were waiting for them on the bridge. Thor was still wearing the Midgardian clothing Jane had lent him; after fumbling a bit, he tied Mjölnir to the belt loop of his jeans so that he could mount.

The time they spent traveling passed at once too swiftly to recall and too slowly to bear. At last Frigga led him into the chamber where Odin had Slept. He was still reclining in the great golden bed cushioned with furs, drinking some revitalizing potion from a silver goblet at his bedside.

Thor knelt by his father’s bed and took his hand, feeling the dormant strength beneath the fragile papery skin. “I am sorry, Father. Sorry for my defiance, my arrogance… tell me how I can help my brother.”

There was pity in Odin’s gaze when he said, “I don’t need you to help him. I need you to stop him.”

The words chilled Thor to the spine like the wind in Jötunheim. He carefully withdrew his hands from his father’s, stood and backed away a few steps. “I don’t understand.”

“Thor, we should have told you, we should have told you both,” Frigga said; if his mother were not usually so dignified and composed, he might have called it an outburst.

“Should have told me what.” His fear settled like a block of ice in his stomach, radiating cold through all his limbs.

“Loki is not our son by birth,” Odin said, his voice too calm, too neutral. “I found him as a baby in Jötunheim, at the end of the war. He was born too small, so Laufey—his father—left him to die.”

Thor could not believe what he was hearing. “That’s impossible. Loki is not a Frost Giant. He looks no different than any of us…” He stopped. But Loki did look different from everyone in his family; Thor had even teased him about it—the dark hair, the long nose, the lean build—and jokingly called him an Elven changeling.

“He’s a shapeshifter; it’s a rare trait among Jötnar, but not unheard of. He shifted to an Aesir form as soon as I picked him up, sensing a possible provider. And he stayed that way until… something happened during your idiotic excursion to Jötunheim. He went down to the Vault to try holding the Casket; I saw what he was doing and went to stop him, and he confronted me.” Odin’s eye clouded for a moment, as he drifted into troubling memory. “That was when I fell into the Sleep. He was angry, irrational…”

“How could he not be angry?” Thor interjected.

“He would be dead if not for me!” Odin snapped, and lying there in his nightgown wrapped in furs he seemed more like a querulous old man than he ever had before. "But how did he repay me? He stole the Casket and took it right back to Laufey.”

“Laufey is dead,” Frigga put in, her voice brittle. “Heimdall has seen that too. There was some sort of power struggle with his sons…”

“Maybe Loki betrayed that father, too. Better to have the viper in someone else’s nest...”

“Loki isn’t a viper,” Thor said through gritted teeth.

“Blood will out,” Odin said as if he hadn’t heard, his eye burning into Thor’s. “I should have known. The boy was always a liar and a sneak…”

“Odin!” Frigga cried, anguished. “He’s our son!”

“Not anymore.” Odin’s pronouncement carried the weight of a disowning.

“He’s still my brother,” Thor said with quiet vehemence.

“You can believe that all you want, but you’ll still fight him when he comes with a Jötun army to assail Asgard.”

“He won’t,” Thor insisted.

“You think returning their greatest weapon to them will be the end of it? No, Thor; he has chosen a side and it isn’t ours.”

Odin was half right. When the Jötun army came to Agard, Loki wasn’t with them. But it was plain that they had an insider’s knowledge of the palace, the city, the land. They destroyed hidden stores of food so that the city would not be able to withstand a siege; they blockaded the entrances to a secret fortress in the mountains so that the people could not take refuge there and raided caches of weapons so that the populace could not take up arms. To their credit, Thor thought, it seemed that they tried to minimize civilian casualties: the aim was to humiliate Agard’s rulers, not to make enemies of its people.

Odin sent an emissary under a white flag to the camp the Jötnar had established in the mountains, bearing a missive that read, “Odin All-Father demands that you turn over the traitor Loki Laufeyson.” The emissary returned, frightened but unharmed, with a reply, written in large letters on his white flag: “Odin Father of Lies does not seem to be in a position to demand much of anything. The traitor Loki Laufeyson conveys his warmest regards to Frigga All-Mother and invites her to send a message when she wishes to discuss terms of surrender. She has the word of King Helblindi that she shall not come to harm. Jötunheim has no quarrel with Vanaheim, but remembers ancient alliances before the Realms submitted to Asgard’s tyranny.”

Odin was furious; Frigga said nothing. He did not even ask whether she planned to take Loki up on his offer. Thor thought that might be a mistake. Once his parents might have thought and acted as one… but Frigga had been quiet and distant since Odin had disowned Loki. Thor realized that it would not surprise him if she acted on her own contrary to Odin’s wishes—not only as Queen of Asgard, jointly responsible for the Realm’s well-being, but as All-Mother of the Nine Realms and a princess of Vanaheim.

As Thor led skirmishes against the Jötnar, he wondered always if he would encounter Loki: he looked for a shorter, slighter figure among the hulking giants; he half expected at every moment to come face to face with his brother, to confront that face he knew better even than his own… but would it be icy blue, now, the crystal-green eyes turned to red? Would he know his brother in such a guise, by anything else but his stature?

He asked Heimdall at every opportunity for news of Loki. He was no longer concealing himself; he was in Jötunheim, contributing his magical skill to its rebuilding with the aid of the Casket. Meanwhile, the Jötun army laid siege to Asgard, and Thor knew that Asgard could not long hold out. Odin stubbornly insisted that he would not yield; Frigga grew ever more quiet and distant. Thor wondered how long it would be before she accepted the invitation to negotiate a surrender.

Four months after the invasion of Asgard, the stalemate was disrupted when Heimdall brought news to the royal family: a Jötun force had invaded the northern reaches of Midgard, near the site of their incursion more than a thousand years before. Loki was at its head.

“I must go,” Thor told his parents, and neither of them disputed it.

He assembled a cadre of his most trusted warriors: Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral, and the Lady Sif, along with a handful of the Einherjar he knew best. He asked Heimdall to locate an Agent Philip, son of Coul, who might be able to rally Midgard’s own forces to her defense; Heimdall told him that Coulson and a contingent of Midgardian warriors were already in the region where Loki and his soldiers had arrived.

So Heimdall sent Thor and his chosen companions to the far north of Midgard. In many ways, Thor thought, it was like the desert where he had first landed: barren of vegetation as far as he could see, with only the stark beauty of mountain crags rising from the empty expanse, the harsh dry air cut through by winds that roared and shrieked like berserkers that scented blood.

The Jötnar were at the edge of the land, where the ice met the sea. Coulson was there with his Midgardian agents, clad in their strange black cloth armor over the bulky layers that protected them from the cold. Two strange warriors were with them, one in a suit of red and gold metal armor that wholly enclosed his body, another in lighter red and blue armor with a silver star on his chest and on his blue-and-red shield.

“Nice to see you again, Dr. Blake… or is it Thor?” Coulson greeted him.

Thor skipped over the pleasantries. “We are here to aid you in defeating the Frost Giants. Tell us what we must do.”

“I think you might have come to the wrong party,” said a muffled voice from the red and gold armor.

“I don’t understand.”

“Thor, allow me to present Mr. Tony Stark,” Coulson said, gesturing to the man in the metal armor. “And Captain Steven Rogers.” The blue-and-red warrior nodded. “And your friends are…?”

“Lady Sif and the Warriors Three: Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you all, but it’s actually looking like defeating won’t be necessary,” Coulson explained with his usual understated equanimity. “Director Fury is waiting for confirmation from the World Security Council and the UN, but it appears we’re going to be able to come to an arrangement.”

“An arrangement with those—” Monsters, he had been about to say. But Loki was one of them; he always had been. “With those invaders?” he finished lamely.

“They describe themselves as immigrants seeking a better life,” said the warrior with the shield, Captain Rogers. His voice was stern, almost accusing.

“Is that what they are?” Volstagg scoffed, and Fandral laughed. Thor held up a hand to silence them.

“They said their homeworld was devastated by war a thousand years ago and deprived of the resources to rebuild. By your world, interestingly enough,” Coulson added mildly. “They’re just now starting to restore their own planet, but it will take some time for their society and economy to recover. Some of them think they’d fare better here.”

“And so they might,” Thor acknowledged. “But what of the Midgardians… the humans who live here now?”

Stark made an exaggerated show of looking around, swiveling his helmeted head while its expression remained frozen. “Are there some I didn’t know about?”

“Not right here,” Sif interjected impatiently. “In your Realm.”

“The government of Norway seems quite amenable to the arrangement,” Coulson said. “As are the governments of Greenland and Denmark. They’ll have to put it to a vote in their respective parliaments, of course, and maybe even a referendum, but a military response doesn’t seem to be on the horizon.”

“What is the nature of this ‘arrangement’?” Hogun asked, matching Coulson’s imperturbable neutrality.

“As you may be aware, Earth’s climate has been dangerously warming due to unfortunate energy-capture practices…”

“That’s a really euphemistic way of saying ‘human stupidity,’” Stark put in.

“…and the Jötnar have offered us a way to protect the Earth from some of the effects of that warming. Or maybe even reverse it entirely.”

“They want to settle on the glaciers and ice sheets of the Arctic and Antarctic,” Captain Rogers explained, seeming annoyed by Coulson’s vagueness. “No one lives there anyway.”

“That is blatant penguin erasure,” said Stark, puzzlingly.

“Don’t forget polar bears,” Coulson added, deadpan as ever.

“No people live on the glaciers and ice sheets. They’ve assured us that they have only peaceful intentions toward the surrounding populations. They’ll trade, of course, but respect human territorial sovereignty.”

The Asgardians exchanged skeptical glances; Volstagg even snorted aloud, and Thor glared at him.

“And in return they’ll use their magic Casket prevent the ice from melting,” Rogers finished, with a glare of his own.

“It’s not magic, it’s energy transfer,” Stark muttered.

“It’s really a win-win solution for everyone,” Coulson said. “They’ll get an environment that works for them, protect the local ecosystems, and stop sea level rise. Hunting and fishing rights will have to be worked out, but in light of the benefits…”

“I must warn you that the promises of Jötnar cannot be trusted,” Thor said.

“Funny, that’s exactly what they said about you Asgardians,” Coulson replied, neutral as ever.

Sif growled low in her throat; Thor wasn’t sure it was voluntary. “Was there a man among them who was smaller than the rest—about my height?”

“Yes, the one who spoke to us on their behalf was just the size of a tall human. The others seemed not to speak any human languages. I wondered if they choose their ambassadors to avoid intimidating the locals.”

“No,” Thor said sharply. “He is the only one of his size, or one of very few; the Jötnar kill the rest at birth. He grew up in Asgard, so he is the only one who has knowledge of the All-Tongue. That is why he was their spokesman.”

“That and the ‘silver tongue,’” Fandral contributed. “He can be very persuasive.”

“You seem to know this guy pretty well,” said Rogers, sounding suspicious.

“He was raised as my brother.” A knot seemed to form in Thor’s throat even as he said it, and he half-choked on the last word.

“Wow, this is some real George R. R. Martin shit,” Stark commented. He muttered something to himself; Thor thought he made out the word “fucking,” but he couldn’t be sure. Coulson gave Stark a reproving look.

“If you have a way to send him a message… would you tell him that his brother wishes to speak with him? That I have no desire to fight him, only to talk.”

“Of course, we can do that,” Coulson replied graciously.

“And I thought I’d been to some awkward family reunions,” said Stark.

————————————

Note: Yeah, I thought the conversation between Thor and Loki deserved its own part. I hope it won’t get too much longer...

[duhragonball]

[FIC] Luffa: The Legendary Super Saiyan (88/?)

Disclaimer: This story features characters and concepts based on Dragon Ball, which is a trademark of Bird Studio/Shueisha and Toei Animation.   This is an unauthorized work, and no profit is being made on this work by me. This story is copyright of me. Download if you like, but please don’t archive it without my permission. Don’t be shy.

Continuity Note: About 1000 years before the events of Dragon Ball Z.

Previous chapters conveniently available here.

[25 May, 234 Before Age.  Interstellar Space.]

There was a killer on Planet Saiya, a cold-blooded murderer who hunted Saiyans with a lethal, fast-acting poison.   Zatte had taken her wife's star-yacht, the Emerald Eye in search of a way to stop this assassin once and for all.    

Like all Dorluns, Zatte was a survivalist, and so she took every possible precaution for her journey.    In particular, there was the possibility that the killer might learn of her investigation and sneak aboard the ship to kill her before she could uncover the the truth.   In fact, Zatte somewhat hoped this would happen, as her entire investigation had been bait for a trap.    She had learned that the killer's poison was derived from proteins found in Dorlun blood.    As a Dorlun herself, Zatte would be naturally immune to its effects, which gave her an edge against the killer in the event of a confrontation.   The killer was almost certainly Dorlun as well, and while Zatte couldn't be certain what other tricks he might have up his sleeve, she was certain that she could overpower him physically.    She was married to the Super Saiyan after all, and years of training with Luffa had made Zatte into quite possibly the strongest Dorlun alive.  

So if the killer had stowed away on the ship, Zatte would be pleased, but that didn't mean she would make it easy for him.   One hour after leaving the Saiya system, Zatte sealed off the bridge from the rest of the ship, and ordered the ship's computer to run continuous scans for life signs on all decks.    An hour later, she programmed the computer to depressurize various sections of the ship, while flooding others with pure nitrogen gas.  

Every Dorlun was born with a unique ability.   Zatte could manipulate energy, which she generally used for the purpose of camouflaging herself.   Bending light waves around her body would make her invisible to the naked eye, as well as devices that relied on electromagnetic radiation.    She could also do something similar with her own life energy, enabling her to use her ki without being detected by ki sensitive adepts.   Not even Luffa's sharp ki senses could overcome this ability, although Luffa's keen sense of smell was much harder to fool.   Theoretically, Zatte could hide herself aboard a starship for several days without being noticed by anyone, but she still needed air, water, and food.    Another Dorlun might use different abilities to hide, but the same basic necessities would have to be addressed.   Zatte hoped that by controlling the life support system, she could seize the initiative.   If there was a stowaway on board, he would need air, and he would have to go to the parts of the ship where Zatte wanted him to go.  

If he made it onto the bridge unseen and unheard, he would still have to breathe, and the ship's computer could measure the oxygen consumption in the room.   Zatte had programmed it to alert her if the oxygen usage increased enough to indicate the presence of a second life form, no matter how small.    Periodically, she walked around the deck, firing a plasma pistol set to produce a wide-dispersal stun ray.   She would shoot at every surface on the deck, just in case her enemy might have some way to get around her other safeguards.  

"Be careful," she chuckled as she finished her latest sweep with the pistol.    Those had been Luffa's last words to her before she departed Planet Saiya.   It was sweet of her wife to show such concern, but it was a silly thing to ask of a Dorlun.  It was another reminder that they were truly alien to one another.  Their marriage hadn't always gone well, but considering the cultural gap between them, it was probably impressive that they'd made things work for as long as they had.  

She sat down in the captain's chair and ordered the computer to resume a playlist of music she had arranged for the trip.   "Deep thule" had once been her preferred genre of music, but over the years she had acquired an appreciation for wave dyspro.   It wasn't exactly toe-tapping fare, but she found the Dysprosium-style bands were good for background music while she read.    She wasn't sure how that worked for concerts.   Maybe their fans just stayed in their seats and read books during the show.  

As she chewed on a ration bar, she glanced up at the main viewer occasionally.   It was set to display a continuous readout on the sensor sweeps and life sign readings she had requested.   In one hour, she would fire her pistol on the bridge again.   Until then she hoped that she could knock out two more chapters of the novel she was reading.  

She was not alone.

*******

[25 May, 234 Before Age.  Planet Pflaume.]

Pflaume was an ice giant, a planet much larger than Saiya, or the other terrestrial worlds where humanoids typically lived.   The only solid portion was at its core.  Above this was a dense, superfluid mantle composed of ammonia, methane, and water.  Above this lay a thick atmosphere of mostly hydrogen and helium, with clouds of hydrogen sulfide and ammonia.   To cope with this hostile environment, Pflaume City was constructed to remain aloft in the toxic atmosphere.   It was more like a space station than a planetary settlement, but its residents took pride in living in such an inhospitable place, even if they were completely sheltered from its hazards.  

Over the years, Pflaume City became an important port-of-call, and this economic importance eventually attracted the idle rich, who enjoyed the novelty of living in such a unique place.  The higher levels of the city were reserved for its most elite residents, and the most prized real estate on the station lay upon its uppermost level.   There, a great dome displayed a real-time image of the violet Pflaumian sky.  It was like standing on a terrestrial planet, only to be surrounded by a vast storm far grander than anyone could imagine.   There were municipal parks that allowed the public to enjoy the view, but to actually own property under the dome was ridiculously expensive.   To rent a modest apartment under the dome cost more than the price of some entire planets.

The King of the Saiyans, Rehval III, owned an entire private villa on the dome level.  He enjoyed showing it off to anyone he met.    

Luffa was not impressed.

"You found the doorway," he said pleasantly.   "I had a feeling you would."

Behind Luffa was a glowing magic portal about the size and shape of a door.   Though she had only taken a single step to pass through it, she had somehow traveled trillions of miles from an underground facility on Planet Saiya.  She glanced back and noticed that the passage had begun to shrink and fade away, but this didn't concern her, since she wouldn't need to go back anytime soon.  

"You've got a lot of explaining to do," Luffa said.  

"Of course," Rehval said.   The king was sitting on a stone bench, sipping tea from an expensive looking cup.   As always he wore clothes of a particular shade of blue, which symbolized the royal line that had ruled the Saiyans for three generations.  Usually, he dressed in a suit that resembled the sort of formal attire worn by alien diplomats and heads of state.   Today, he looked more like some sort of monk.   His tunic and pants were of a very simple, functional design, and he wore no shoes at all.

Standing behind the bench was a woman with rose-colored skin, although the hood of her blue silken robes obscured her face.   Luffa thought she noticed some blue hair peeking out of the hood when the woman leaned forward to refill his cup.  The tea was steaming hot, and yet she cradled the teapot with her bare hands without any sign of discomfort.  

"I know you're excited to see Luffa in person, my dear," Rehval said, looking back to his companion, "but she and I have much to discuss first."

"We had an appointment this morning," Luffa said, struggling to contain her rage.  "We were going to catch the Saiyan-killer today, remember?"

He let out an amused snort.  "An appointment," he said.   "I was hoping you'd call it a date.   We're all alone out here, Luffa.   You don't have to feel self-conscious about it."

"Knock that crap off," Luffa said.  "You've been playing me from the start!"  

"Like a fiddle," he admitted.   "But some instruments just can't be tuned, no matter how gifted the musician is.    Still, it was fun to try."

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Luffa demanded.  

"I'm talking about power, Luffa.   Like most Saiyans, you equate power with physical strength.    You think yourself to be the most powerful Saiyan because you're the strongest one, and your strength does make you powerful, but your power lacks scope.   Strength is only one dimension of power.    A man might be too weak to swim against the current of a mighty river, but if he swims at an angle, he can still manage to cross to the other side.  And if he builds a water wheel along its banks to harness the river's power for his own ends?   If he uses that power to build machines and uses them to change the very course of the river to suit his ends, is the man still weak?   Is the river still mighty?"

"Is this going to be about how smart you are?" Luffa asked.  "Because I get this kind of speech all the time.   'You may be strong, Super Saiyan, but my devious plan will blah blah blah' and maybe a death ray or something, and then I break every bone in their hands.   If a man drowns in a river, no one cares how clever he was.    If they think about him at all, they just call him "That Idiot Who Screwed Around With a River When He Should Have Known Better."  

Rehval laughed.  "You're right, I apologize," he said.  "You've fought so many battles in your time, and all of your enemies probably felt very confident that they had an answer to your superior force.    It must sound very cliche.   I'll try to be more original."

Luffa shook her wrist, gesturing for him to get on with it.  

"What I'm saying is that it's not just about being smart, or just being strong.   It's about having options, so you can adapt to any situation.    That's what my grandfather believed when he assumed the throne all those years ago.   There were a lot of naysayers back then.   Anti-monarchists-- like you and your mother-- who rejected the very idea of a Saiyan King. Saiyans who thought that the throne should be awarded in ritual combat.    Saiyans who thought kings were only relevant in wartime.   Rehval the First sought to change all that.   He forged the Saiyan people into something resembling a real nation."  

"And then he handed it off to his bastard son," Luffa said with a sneer.   "Typical nepotism.   You fools get a little bit of authority, and then you think it runs in the family."

"You're absolutely right," Rehval said.  "My father didn't deserve the throne, but you shouldn't judge him too harshly.   As a king, he carried on my grandfather's work, and he maintained order, more or less.  He was more of a steward than a king, really.  He was just keeping the throne warm for my brother."

"Your brother?" Luffa asked.   For a moment, she was about to point out that he was an only child, but then she remembered the way she had learned this.   In an effort to win her trust, Rehval had invited her to sift through his thoughts with her telepathic powers, and she had blithely assumed that any information she found would be genuine.  Somehow, though, he had managed to lie to her in spite of this.   Even now, when she knew that he had thwarted her mental abilities, it was still difficult to accept that she had been fed disinformation.  

"My grandfather insisted that his line use a standard order of succession," Rehval said.  "The oldest living male offspring becomes the next king.   He was very high on bringing rule of law to the Saiyan race.  No contests for leadership, no civil wars or usurpers.   It worked well for so many alien governments, so why not us?   That was why he made sure his grandchildren were educated off-planet.   We went to some of the finest schools in the galaxy.   What did your parents do for your schooling, Luffa?   I'm guessing it was some run-of-the-mill computer software.    I can promise you, you didn't miss anything.  Two plus two is four no matter how much you pay someone to tell you that.    The history of the Camelian Empire is the same no matter how far you travel.   It's the little things that matter with education.   The moments no one plans for, or the insights and opportunities that can't be written on a syllabus."

"And that's how you learned to resist mind-readers?" Luffa asked.

"You're getting ahead of me," Rehval said.   "I studied alien histories because my father and grandfather thought they were important.   My older brother was supposed to become king, not me.   That was the rule of law.    Even if I could have challenged him for the throne, I'd lose, because he was so much stronger.   I was just the backup plan, in case he died unexpectedly.  And that got me wondering about why he was born stronger.   Why is one Saiyan naturally weaker than another?   Why are some Saiyans born with great strength, while others have to work to achieve it?   I trained very hard, Luffa, but my power never increased much at all, and I never came close to rivaling my brother."

"Maybe you should have tried harder," Luffa scoffed.  "Instead of looking for excuses in the back of some textbook."

"I did both," Rehval said.  "But the textbook was where I found the answer.   We Saiyans have had a poor understanding of genetics.  We think a child should be strong simply because its parents were strong, but it's much more complicated than that.    Your parents were never Super Saiyans, yet here you are.    My parents were strong, but my brother and I didn't inherit equal shares of that potential.  Do you know why that is?"

"Who cares?" Luffa asked.  "My father tried to game that system, Rehval.   Remember him?   He thought he could take my suffering and use it to increase his own strength."

"No, you don't understand," Rehval said.  "I wasn't looking to steal someone else's abilities like your father.   I wanted to bypass the game entirely.    Fate made me the younger brother.   Genetics left me at a disadvantage.   Political theory wouldn't save me.   If I usurped the throne, I would only be setting a precedent for others to usurp it from me.   I needed options, so I found some.  A classmate of mine told tales of magic-users who occasionally wandered through his home sector.    Most of the students didn't listen to him, but I did.  I asked him to tell me more.   And from there..."

"You studied alchemy," Luffa said.  "You told me it was your father's lab, that he was the one who spent all his free time trying to tinker with nature, but it was you all along, wasn't it?"

Rehval nodded.  "I considered enrolling in the academy on Planet Gwarthos, but their record-keeping system is too meticulous, and I didn't want there to be any transcript of what I'd learned.   Instead, I went to a remote asteroid and learned at the feet of an adept believed to have been dead for decades.   My father and brother thought I was studying Camelian art theory, but when I returned to Planet Saiya, I brought with me the means to secure the throne for myself."   He held up his hand and pretended to squeeze an imaginary eyedropper.   "The next semester, I dosed my brother's food slowly, just enough to make him sick, but not enough to arouse suspicion.   He and I were the only two Saiyans at that private school.   It wasn't hard for me to switch places with him, and while I assumed his identity there, I worked on my plan to complete my disguise.  Within a year, the true Rehval III was dead, and I, the pseudo-Rehval, took his name and his birthright."

"Then what's your real name?" Luffa asked.  

"It doesn't matter," Rehval said.  "Over the next few years, I learned to construct talismans that would bend others to my will.  Eventually, I was able to drop my disguise entirely, and my father and anyone else who mattered believed that I had been the true Rehval III all along.  The name my mother gave me became meaningless.   The true power of alchemy lies in mystery, Luffa.   When the great masters record their secrets, they use the names of other, more prominent figures to make their works seem more important.   I have done the same."

"You're a disgrace!" Luffa snarled.   "Where's your Saiyan pride?!"

"I swallowed it," Rehval said.   "My birthname was a small price to pay for the chance to shape the future of our people.   That was how I bypassed the system, Luffa.   Your father tried to game the system, but I changed the rules.   Did I ever tell you why I like elevators?   I remember we talked about it one night, but I don't think I got around to explaining that."

"What does that have to do with--?!" Luffa began to protest.

"On most planets," Rehval went on, "the ones with cities and tall buildings, the ground floor would be the most expensive to rent.   Rich people wouldn't want to take the stairs, and landlords would exploit that to their advantage, charging higher rent for lower floors.   So a ground floor apartment would be seen as a sign of luxury and status, while the higher floors were left to the rabble.  It doesn't make a lot of sense to people like us who can fly, I know, but take my word for it, it holds true on every planet with stairs.   "But in every intelligent society, once the elevator is introduced, aha!"  He snapped his fingers for effect, and Luffa winced with irritation.   "Now, it's easy to move up and down a tall building.   Overnight, the paradigm shifts.   Now the rich demand to live on the top floors, where they can enjoy the view, or the satisfaction of being higher up than everyone else.   Suddenly, what was once despised becomes important.   That's the power of elevators, Luffa.  That's the kind of power I crave.    Not to make the rules, or to break them, but to redefine what rules are."

"You gave up your birthname so you could pretend to be the guy who invented elevators?" Luffa asked.    It was a gross oversimplification of what he had said, but she couldn't resist the taunt.  

"The Saiyan race had no future before my grandfather took control," Rehval said.   "I learned that while I studied the history of other cultures.   We Saiyans have no such history.    Just a collection of superstitious folk tales passed down from mother to daughter.   Everything else was lost and forgotten."

"Because those superstitious folk tales are all that really matter!" Luffa insisted.   "They're all we need to know who we are and how we should live!  But I guess your mother didn't get that message across!  You won't even use the name she gave you!"

"I never said the old stories don't matter," Rehval said.  "I'm saying that they're not all that matter.  We can have more, but only if we unite as one people under one king and take responsibility for ourselves!   It goes against our warrior nature, perhaps, but a strong ruler can force us all together.    A strong dynasty can maintain that unity for however long it takes to forge the Saiyan race into a true culture!"

"And your damned sorcery lets you improve on what your grand-daddy started, is that it?" Luffa said.   She turned her head and spit.  "I've met half-breeds with more conviction than you, 'Rehval'.   A true Saiyan doesn't look for shortcuts."

"Then I'm not a true Saiyan," Rehval said evenly.   "I'm willing to sacrifice my identity to ensure the future of our species!   It's a small price to pay.   Tell me, Luffa, what are you willing to do for the Saiyan race?   Lead by example?   You'll just fight a series of empty wars until you die of old age."

A devious grin spread over Luffa's face.   "That does sound like a pretty good life," she said.  

"It does, doesn't it?" Rehval said.  "I envy our ancestors, who could fight without a care in the world, but destiny has other plans for us, Luffa."

"That's what this is all about, isn't it?" she asked.   "There never was a Saiyan killer.   You arranged all those murders just so you could ask for my help.    This whole time, you were scouting me for your stupid 'destiny plan'."

He sipped his tea and smiled.    "You never cease to amaze me, Luffa.   I wove a very complex web of deceit, and you still manage to cut straight to the heart of the matter.    You're right, of course.  I do need you.   And since you haven't tried to kill me yet, I assume that you're willing to at least hear my proposal."

*******

[25 May 234 Before Age.  Interstellar Space.]

Stealing aboard the Emerald Eye was child's play.  Avoiding its various security systems was mildly challenging, but she had experience with these matters, and it was no great obstacle for her.  The loss of cabin pressure in certain parts of the ship was at most an inconvenience, but nothing she couldn't handle.   The sections of the ship pressurized with nitrogen but no oxygen, on the other hand...  Those were a different story: they didn't bother her at all.  

All in all, it was a disappointing defense, but Zatte was setting a trap, not a fortification.  It was only supposed to seem like a thorough defense, and so one had to admire the thoroughness of the ruse.  An unsuspecting intruder would have been completely fooled.  

The only hard part was entering the bridge without making any noise.   Fortunately, Zatte had solved that problem by playing music loud enough to drown out the pneumatic mechanism that opened the door from the lift.   One simply had to climb the lift shaft, cut power to the door, and open it manually, releasing the pressure on the pneumatics slowly enough to cut down on the noise.  

This allowed her onto the bridge, directly behind the captain's chair.   From there, it was just a matter of closing the door behind her, and waiting patiently for the right moment to strike.   When she was ready, she stealthily crept up behind Zatte's chair, drew her knife, and...

Suddenly Zatte leaped out of her seat and fired a pistol.  The beam was wide enough that it didn't hit her very hard, but it was enough to knock her off her feet.    And when Zatte looked directly at her, she realized that her power had been disrupted as well.

Very nice, she thought as she rolled to her feet.    

"What the hell are you?!"  Zatte demanded.  

The intruder smiled and pointed at herself.   "plibortuN vehasS, zattE," she said cordially.   "That's the special greeting, right?   That's how we prove to each other we're really Dorluns, isn't it?"

"Computer!" Zatte shouted.   "Identify intruder life readings!"

"No life readings detected," replied the ship's computer.

The woman laughed.   "I love this part," she said.    "Usually I kill the mark before they ever really get a handle on what they're dealing with, but you!  Oh, you'll take a while, so you've got plenty of time to work this out."

Zatte never took her eye off the intruder, and backed away slowly.   "Computer," she asked.   "Calculate oxygen consumption on the bridge.   Does the oxygen demand indicate the presence of a second life form?"

"Negative," the computer replied.    

"You're not breathing," Zatte said.  "That's how you managed to stow away on all those other ships before you got to Planet Saiya.  You don't put off any life signs because you're...."

"Bingo," the intruder cheered.   "You were pretty clever, figuring out the Dorlun connection, but then you got cocky, and assumed that your enemy would be just like a Dorlun.    And I am Dorlun, mostly, except for one teensy thing: I'm dead."

Zatte pointed at the woman's face.   "You don't look like any Dorlun corpse I've ever seen, lady," she said.   "Red skin, blue hair?  And you look exactly like me.   You've even got an eyepatch like mine, even though it's on the wrong eye."

"I know, right?" the intruder said.  She gestured to the eyepatch proudly.  "It's pretty awesome, but not a lot of people would get the reference.   Just you and your friends and your wife, I guess.   How is Luffa, by the way?"

"You leave her out of this," Zatte said.  

"Leave her out of it?" the intruder laughed.   "I was created because of her!   Do you think my master would have gone to all this trouble otherwise?    Do you know how long it takes to build a homunculus template?  To customize it?  To imprint it with superficial memories of the original?"

"Homunculus?" Zatte asked.  

"Right, I should probably explain that," the intruder said.   "I said I was 'dead', but that sort of implies that I used to be alive, and that isn't true.   You wouldn't call a rock 'dead', for instance.  'Nonliving' would be more appropriate, but I like the way 'dead' rolls off the tongue.   Makes me sound badass.   Do you think Luffa would like that?"

"Why did you kill all those Saiyans?" Zatte demanded.  

"Because they sucked!" the intruder replied.   She threw up her hands and laughed.    "Why does anyone do anything, Zatte?   I'm a Dorlun, only I'm not a Dorlun, you get it?  I'm not alive, so survival doesn't mean much to me.   Instead of keeping myself alive like some people in this room, I make sure other people end up dead.    You and me, we're like polar opposites, you get it?"

"Then why are you here?" Zatte asked.    "If you're telling me you aren't even alive, then why would you care if I exposed your identity?  You could have hidden on Planet Saiya for as long as you wanted!"

The intruder laughed.   "Oh, you really are clueless, aren't you?   I hope I don't sound that dumb when I talk.   See, you thought you were being so clever, trying to set a trap for me by investigating my murders.    And I was supposed to take the bait to keep you from finding out who I am.   Except I'm nobody, Zatte.  If you want to give me a name, you can call me Pozet.   That's what my master calls me, but it really makes no difference to me."

"Pozet?!" Zatte asked.  

"You like it?" she asked.  "In the Dorlun language, it means the opposite of your name."

"That's sick!" Zatte said.  

"Thanks," Pozet said.    "Anyway, like I was saying, you thought you were bait to trap me, but you had it backwards.   I was the bait to trap you.   And here we are.   Just you and me, and no Super Saiyans around to get in our way."   She reached for a second knife holstered to the leg of her pants and pointed it menacingly at Zatte.   "So... are you as excited about this as I am?"

Zatte's eye was wide with horror, and her mouth hung open in shock, so she had no reply to offer, but Pozet chose to take that as a "yes".

*******

[25 May 234 Before Age.  Planet Pflaume.]

"A homunculus," Rehval explained.   I knew very little about your wife, but I did learn that Zatte was hospitalized on Planet Extraliga for a time, and it wasn't difficult to hire someone to infiltrate the nursing staff and obtain hair and blood samples.   More than enough to imprint her characteristics upon an alchemical construct."

He gestured to the woman standing behind him, and she lifted her hood, revealing a face identical to Zatte's only with red skin and blue hair, rather than the blue skin and red hair typical of Dorluns.  

"I call her 'Pozet', he said.   She's not really alive, but she resembles Zatte closely enough to give me some insight into that aspect of your life.   I needed to understand you, Luffa.   Friend or foe, I needed to know as much as I could learn about how your mind works."

Luffa glared at the creature, who now smiled at her with mock affection.    "It even has her ability," she said dispassionately.   "I was trying to figure out how it could hold that teapot without burning its hands, but it's using energy manipulation.  Keeping the tea hot for you."

"I customized the formula to replicate important aspects of Zatte, while reversing certain others," Rehval said.   "The color swap was an aesthetic choice.   Your wife is a survivor, my Pozet exists only to take life away.   She's even taught me some Dorlun phrases."  

"Mostly pillow talk," Pozet said.  "If you'd like, I can teach you--"

Luffa raised her hand and fired an energy blast at Pozet's forehead.  It passed through her quite harmlessly, and destroyed a hill several dozen yards behind her.

"Ooh, spicy!" Pozet said.  

"I thought you would have realized by now, Luffa," Rehval said.   "The two of us aren't actually here.    You're speaking to a image being projected from elsewhere in the city."

"I'm well aware of your cowardice," Luffa said bitterly.   "I was just hoping your creature was really standing here, since you seem to consider it expendable."

"Not expendable," Rehval said as he patted Pozet's wrist.   "Renewable.  Since Pozet isn't truly alive, I can impart her essence onto as many homunculi as I can create.   Currently, I have three of them active right now.  This one stays here on Pflaume City to attend my villa while I'm away.   The second is still lurking around Planet Saiya, continuing to kill Saiyans until I give her the order to stop, and the third is on your ship, securing your wife for me."

"You manufactured this whole Saiyan-killer business, just to lure me here," Luffa said, and you're telling me it's still killing people?"

"Of course she's still killing people," Rehval said.   "You and I still haven't caught her yet.  It would arouse suspicion if the murders suddenly stopped without explanation.  My hope is that you and I come to terms, and then we go back and capture the killer together, and the public will celebrate our successful partnership."

Luffa threw back her head and made a low, angry groan.   "You've been deceiving me this entire time, and yet you actually think I'm going to help you lie to your own people?  I'll give you this much, Rehval, you may not have any Saiyan pride, but you make up for it in sheer gall."

"Thank you," he said.   "That actually means a lot to me, since bile is considered an important bodily humor in alchemical theory.  It gives me hope, Luffa, that despite all that's happened between us, we can still work together."

"Then you're deceiving yourself," Luffa said.  "I followed you here to kill you."

"Yes, I know," Rehval said.  "And that is why I withdrew to Pflaume City, Luffa.   On Saiya, there was always a chance you might destroy the planet and escape in your starship.  But now, your ship is far from here, so if you do anything reckless here, you risk rupturing the hull of this city."  

He pointed at the dome above them, which displayed the torrent of purple clouds raging around them from all sides.   "There's no oxygen out there, Luffa.   You might be strong enough to survive the winds, but the toxic gases would suffocate you, and even if you had a spacesuit, there would be nowhere for you to go."

She glanced up at the dome, and then back at him.   "Cute," she said.  "I don't sense any other life forms on the city, either.   You must have killed them-- No, you arranged for them to evacuate the place. That way, they'd take all their ships with them.   The only way out is that portal I stepped through, and I'm guessing you're the only one who can open it."

"That's right," Rehval said.   Pozet chuckled triumphantly while he leaned forward and steepled his fingers.   "The only way off this planet alive is through me, Luffa.  So you may as well take the time to hear what I have to say."

NEXT: Saiyan and Super Saiyan

[adrenalineguide]

Ford F-150 Lariat Supercrew 4x4 Hybrid: Is this the best pickup ever?

Words and Photos By Michael Hozjan

No matter which pickup camp you favor, be it Chevy, Ram, GMC or one of the Japanese versions you have to admit that Ford’s F-150 has been setting the  benchmark for pickups since biblical times. Sure it has had its share of hick ups, which vehicle hasn’t, but it’s been the segment leader more often than not and Ford is not about to relinquish the spot. This year’s F-150 has received some notable improvements that are sure to make it a favorite with farmers, tradesmen and enthusiasts alike.

It may be cliché, but the F-150 does come in every configuration that you could want to suit every taste, budget and need. You can choose from V6 power to V8 as well as turbocharging and hybrid assist. From two doors to four doors, rear wheel drive or 4x4 as well as three different bed lengths.  

Above: Nearly seven decades separate these two blue beauties

Decisions, decisions

Prices start at $36,174 for the base XL in two-door/6 ½ foot box configuration powered by a 3.3L V6 that develops 290 horses and 265 lb.-ft. of torque feeding the rear wheels through an electronic 10-speed automatic. Sorry folks, Ford has nixed manual trannies. Add another three hundred dollars and you get the more useable 8-foot bed. There are seven more trim levels, XLT, Lariat, Tremor, King Ranch, Platinum, Raptor right up to the $94, 120 Limited. You get a choice of five engine choices including a 3.0L V6 diesel.  

Above: You wouldn’t guess by looking at it that there are 430 horses waiting to be unleashed.

Add to the various trim lines, engine options, cabin sizes and bed lengths and you can see what I mean by a truck for every taste, need and budget. With more variants than I care to count I decided to look at the least thirsty one, the full hybrid version Lariat powered by a 3.5L V6 EcoBoost engine and an electric motor. As a $4,850 option, it sounds pricey, but it also delivers a whopping 570 lb.-ft. of torque and 430 horses. My tester’s towing capacity amounted to 12,400 lbs. In contrast, the base Lariat starts at $61,845 with a 2.7L EcoBoost mill that doles out 325 ponies and 400 lb.-ft. of torque and is rated to tow 8,500 pounds.  

Other options included Group 502A at $4,245.00 (rain sensing wipers, LED projector bending head lights, LED taillights, onboard 400W outlet, heated steering wheel, 10-way power driver’s seat, power passenger seat, heated second row seats, leather seating, adaptive cruise and a slew of driving aides). My tester also came with 275/60Rx20 all terrain tire package at $1000, the $1,300 Sport Appearance package added power running boards and did away with the chrome grille replaced by a more subtle black grille, a twin panel moonroof at $1,750, Bang and Olufson sound system and power tailgate ($800.00 each), FX4 off-road package gets you skid plates to protect your investment’s underpinnings at $950.00, a sprayed bedliner ($600.00), co-pilot assist with active park assist ($1,350.00).  With the ever-increasing sizes and heights of pickups, the $850.00, 360-degree camera is a must, especially if your travels include parallel parking around low-slung cars.

Above: Plugging in your power tools was unheard of just a few years ago now you can use your F-150 as a mobile generator – the Hybrid package can transmit up to 7.2 kW of power.

There were no extra fees for the leather seating, the 20” six spoke aluminum wheels, the towing package and the 3.73:1 electronic locking rear axle.

As you can see the numbers add up rather quickly, nothing new in the pickup world, so how does it stack up?  

Hybrid Power

Ford has been a leader in alternative power for its pickups for years having experimented with [hydrogen] fuel cells in its Ranger line decades ago, and hybrid pickups are nothing new. They’ve been around for a while, some better than others, oddly, the F-150 is the sole full hybrid pickup in the 2021 model line up. It’s also the best. Not only is power transition from full electric to gasoline completely transparent, it’ll even drive on full electric in four-wheel-drive. Ford calls it PowerBoost and it’s available on all F-150 crew cab models regardless of trim, even the base XL line.

Not to be confused with Ram’s e-Torque mild hybrid system, which can’t be driven solely on electricity. Ford’s system consists of a 1.5 kWh lithium ion battery pack that's liquid cooled and engineered to minimize weight. The electric motor makes 41 horsepower (35 kW) integrated directly to the 10-speed automatic transmission.

Best of all the truck self-charges through regenerative braking and engine power, so you don’t plug it in. A workhorse should not be required to have daily downtime. Right?

New look

For 2021 the F-150 got a mild and dare I say welcomed refresh with new skin giving it a modern look.  

New interior

Whether you’re pickup’s needs are for farming, towing or simply commuting, Ford’s stylists have completely redesigned the cabin. Fit and finish is top notch, as are the materials. Borrowing from the Ram, the center console features a large flat workspace ideal for taking notes or working your laptop. My Lariat came with a 12” infotainment screen that thankfully could also be navigated with buttons and dials (screens have a hard time recognizing my finger/hand gestures).

 Above: For extra storage, my truck had a pop-up bin (closed in pic)  under the rear seats - a $200 option. 

On the road

In all honesty I haven’t enjoyed an F-150 as much as I enjoyed this one since the “Bullnose” F-150s of the early to mid ‘80s. Its road manners are above and beyond what I’ve been used to with Ford’s previous renditions and better than most of the competition. With a smooth ride and comfortable seats, road imperfections go virtually unnoticed unless you find a real large pothole.  

Above: How much is too much light? I wish manufacturers would consider oncoming traffic when designing their headlamps.

With gobs of torque (the most ever in an F-150) and a whole corral of ponies under the hood, you would think that the F-150 is a speed demon. Well you’re right, zero to a hundred kms is achieved in just over 5.5 seconds and it’ll do the quarter mile in 13.8 seconds at 164 kph. The 10-speed automatic works perfectly in conjunction with the hybrid package. Whether accelerating from a full stop to highway speeds or in stop and go traffic, shifts go unnoticed.  I can’t recall a single incident where the truck felt underpowered or misstepped a gear. Steering is light yet precise, but I do wish the turning circle was smaller.  

On board scale

Ever wonder just how much you’re carrying? Well Ford has taken the guess workout by offering an onboard scale that measures your payload and sends it to the Sync4 screen and you can even read the weight via an LED display in the taillamps!

The verdict

I’m not a big fan of electric vehicles, (not enough space to explain why here) but I love hybrids, especially those that regenerate themselves. If I can save my gas bill while getting more power what is not to like. While this F-150 fit the bill, I’m an old school pickup guy so for me 8-foot beds are the way to go, and they’ve been making a big comeback in my neck of the woods. Having said that, I’d love to see the hybrid package offered in a regular cab version with the long bed. I’m sure the battery could safely be stored under the bed. Ford doesn’t offer the crew cab with an 8-foot box, once the darling of municipal yards and racetracks alike. Are you listening Ford?  

My combined thirst for the week averaged 10.95L/100kms, unheard of in a full size pickup, much less with these horsepower figures.  

Price as tested $83,715.00 *

*Includes Dealer prep and delivery fees, federal excise tax and off-road discount.

Warranty: 3yr/60,000 km Basic, 5 Yr/100,000 km Powertrain – 24hr Roadside Assistance

[sootcloak]

Though I Walk Shadowed Paths

~1000 words. Urianger’s involved. Generally self indulgent. Not a ship thing, just a moment of emotional vulnerability. Takes place immediately following my response to the ‘Scion’ prompt. Found Here

January Prompt: Apart - (of two or more people or things) separated by a distance; at a specified distance from each other in time or space.

@seaswolchallenge

    Vavara’s boots echo as she storms out of the Seventh Heaven. Her gear on her back clatters. Eyes aglow and face knitted into a focussed snarl. She whistles once, loud. A grey feathered chocobo in travel packs trots over.

    Kweh?

    She wordlessly throws her gear into place on the bird. Her hands grip the straps and buckles tight enough to make it creak. Her teeth are gritted. A soft, heartbeat pulse of emerald light trickles down the gunmetal seams running down from her eyes. Her shoulders shake once, then three times. A shaking, breathless, tearless sob.

    She pulls herself up onto the bird in one motion. Turns her face from the bar.

    “Lady Ashenheart-!” The doors slam open as her bird takes the first step. Urianger’s voice. Makes her gears catch just a beat in her chest. She turns her head just enough to catch him out of the corner of her eye.

    “I’m leaving.” She says, voice firm even in her soft tone.

    “I have been able to surmise as much.” He says, feet coming to rest besides her bird. “You are well prepared and provisioned, I expect?” Tone grave, eyes sharp, he looks from her to the bird.

    “Aurash is fed and prepared for whatever journey you have in mind?” He continues.

    “Yes.” She nods.

    “Good. If you would do me the honor for a moment, I would like a word with you ere you depart. It is my understanding you do not agree with many of our decisions and plans, yet we still find ourselves with common enemies and goals.” His words flow as cool water.

    “Can’t change my mind.” She says.

    “I expect no less of you - you made your decision long before this day, I do suspect. And thus it would not be considerate of me to believe my words would be that which sways you.” He says. She turns fully in her seat to face him, the bird chirping quietly.

    “Walk alongside Aurash - I’m not about to stay in town after that fuss.” She gestures up and out of town with one hand, towards Coerthas.

    “As you wish.” He nods, and keeps pace with the bird as it trots slowly out the gate. Neither say much as they head up the hill. But his eyes are both sharp and quick - he sees the jerks in her posture. The way her eyes remain straight ahead, as though locked in place. Her tight grip on the reins. The tell tale signs of someone working to keep their composure. If she could cry, he imagines she would be.

    “It had been my hope that you would remain for a short time - we are to expect Lyse’s arrival in a few days. It is certain that she comes bearing news from the Resistance. That said - you are more than capable of seeking that information on your own. But since you are to leave, I wish to assure you of something.”

    “Speak plainly.” She says with a bitter curtness. Pain barely hidden in her voice.

    “Of course. Though we may stand apart, as I said earlier we share many commonalities. Should you have need of support of any kind, you are welcome to reach out to myself or the other Archons. I know you and Miss Miria have had your conflicts. Her passion often blinds her to the harm she does, or the harm she allows herself to ignore. I bid you remember that even should we stride apart from one another, we are not enemies.” The pair reach the gate as he finishes. She pulls Aurash to a stop and glances across to Urianger.

    “Is that all?” Her words are hoarse.

    “One last thing - if I may.” He leans on the last half of the sentence, his tone dropping in volume and formality.

    “You may.” She says, voice spread thin and worn down. Too tired to protest.

    “It seems you do not consider yourself to be among our number - this I can plainly understand. Your path has been shadowed and harried by much darker shades than many of us would dare to dream. Every manner of war and battle, you have long waged it under too many banners. You have offered yourself to a dozen kinds of deaths - I have seen two of them. To see others hasten themselves to similar pain as you have long endured, I imagine it to be vexing and irritating.

    “But I and the other Archons, no matter our differences, we will miss you dearly. And look forward to a time when we may stand together without tension or pain. Once there was a time I would have left such things unsaid - I have learned to ‘speak plainly’ as you commanded earlier lest they be left forever unheard.”

    She takes a sharp, shaking breath. Her eyes shine dimly, in line with the beat of her core. She squeezes them shut. One hand finds the feathers of her bird, steadying herself in her saddle.

    “Regardless of Miss Miria’s words, you are not cowardly for seeking a different path. And you have not betrayed us by giving name and number to the risks we have long taken. Should a time come when we stand face-to-face again, I will welcome it with open arms. Rejoice at your return, even. Please, as you wander long and far, do not forget that you may yet find a warm hearth here in the Rising Stones.” He offers one arm, wide and outstretched.

    She strikes over into it, a shaking sob taking her. Her arms wrap around his neck. Her face buried into his shoulder.

    “Daft bookworm.” She scolds under soft gasps, gears catching on one another and metal scraping. “You just can’t let me have the last word…” His outstretched arm loops around her shoulders.

    He holds her through a dozen more shaking tremors. Not another word passes his lips until she gently pulls away. Her face, dry as a doll’s, lies without the tension he saw earlier. Just the quiet resolve he’d seen time and time again. She nods to him, once. He steps away, expression soft and warm.

    “Never, Lady Ashenheart. If it is not too much trouble - do remain in contact as much as your work will allow.”

    “I will try. Tahve’ir would have me roasted alive otherwise. He’s too soft on you lot.” She says, takes stock of Revenant’s Toll, and then pushes Aurash away on the road. Doesn’t look back.

    He watches her go, vanish around the bend, and then quietly returns to the Rising Stones. 

A furious calm on his face.

[sepdet]

My visit to Mount St. Helens, August 22, 2017

Johnston Ridge Visitor Center | Mount St. Helens north face, runoff from snow cutting through 1980s pumice plain

Close-up: melting snow rising as steamclouds from the still-cooling lava dome of 2004-2008 eruption that’s partly filled 1980 crater

Blown-down trees on surrounding hills show direction of blast | Spirit Lake in distance (human figures on trail for scale) | More blowdown trees in background

 Blowdown tree, possibly flew 5 miles from Mount St. Helens, with “Indian paintbrush” flowers and pearly everylasting

Bees in fireweed | Bees in pearly everlasting 

Johnston Ridge Memorial to those who died

Let me tell you a story.

When I was a little girl, there was a beautiful mountain.

Mount St. Helens behind Spirit Lake: U.S. Army Core of Engineers, 1978

The explorer George Vancouver had named her after some British diplomat. But native peoples called her Louwala-Clough, “smoking mountain,” or Loowitlatkla, “Lady of Fire,” or just Loowit. 

(cont’d with more photos below)

Loowit taught people fire; she guarded the Bridge of the Gods. She had been an old woman, but the Great Spirit transformed her into a beautiful maiden for her good deeds. Then two brothers, Pahto and Wyeast, fought over her, throwing flaming rocks and laying waste to whole forests. At last the Great Spirit turned all three of them into the mountains westerners call Mount St. Helens, Mt. Adams and Mt. Hood.

Native peoples of the Pacific Northwest knew volcanoes were shapechangers. Geologists knew. But by 1980, most people living nearby were barely aware of the sleeping giants looming over them. They didn’t realize just how dramatically they could change.

Most Americans’ notion of a volcano was shaped by TV images of Kilauea spewing red-hot lava. Fluid when it first erupts, lava cools rapidly in open air, so that its leading edge creeps rather than runs. Even I can outwalk it. Like millions of tourists, I’ve safely watched Kilauea’s lava fountains and flows from a few miles away.

(Sorry, Hollywood. Lava is usually not that scary, unless you’re a house.) 

But stratovolcanoes like Krakatoa and Vesuvius are different. Their magma (lava before it erupts) is sticky and stiff. It piles into rugged peaks, clogs their pipes and caps old craters with heavy domes. Stratovolcanoes can sleep for centuries, sometimes thousands of years. When they erupt, they explode.

Large chunks of the old summit get blasted out, some pieces as big as houses. 

Frothy, gassy magma flies out as blobs of pumice: hole-pocked volcanic rock that isn’t very dense but can bury a town (see: Pompeii).

Powerful explosions pulverize magma into volcanic ash, which is actually tiny jagged grains of glass. Fine ash can fill lungs, scratch eyes, clog machinery, or fuse into a glass coating if sucked into a jet engine.

Water seeping into hot rocks may flash to steam. Steam explosions are dangerous because there’s no warning.

Glaciers and snow and rivers mix with ash to form mudflows the consistency of wet concrete, able to flow as fast as water. Geologists use the Indonesian name for them, lahars. Some lahars are boiling hot.

Scariest of all are pyroclastic flows, hurricane-force avalanches of superheated ash, pumice, boulders, semi-molten rock, and hot gasses (including sulfuric acid), about 1000°C (nearly 2000°F). They travel at speeds up to 700kph (450mph). They flow over ridges and hills, and can even cross water on a cushion of steam, as the islands closest to Krakatau learned the hard way. 

Here’s lahars (Japan has remote cameras to watch for them): 

Pyroclastic flow in Indonesia (truly terrifying):

That was what geologists were worried about, when Mount St. Helens stirred to life with a flurry of moderate earthquakes on March 19, 1980. 

Trouble is, geologists didn’t yet have many active stratovolcanoes under their belt. They could reconstruct what St. Helens was capable of from the remains of ancient eruptions, but what would she do this time? More importantly, when?

Drawing on experience from Kilauea, United States Geological Survey scientists planted instruments around St. Helens to monitor her vital signs. They measured thousands of moderate-sized earthquakes with seismometers. They installed tiltmeters on her flanks to monitor the groundswell as magma rose underneath. (With one bizarre exception, there was no movement.) They measured escaping gasses, since other volcanoes’ SO2 emissions spiked before erupting. (Hers didn’t). They scanned with infrared cameras, searching for major heat sources near the surface (not much). 

A week after the first earthquake swarm began, St. Helens cleared her throat and opened a small summit crater, belching steam and ash that dirtied her snow. Spirit Lake near her feet was evacuated, and local officials set up roadblocks around a no-entry zone.

Same view as my photos. Note “bulge” in front of original summit, 1 day before eruption. Harry Glicken, USGS. (Also notice 150-200 foot fir trees on slopes.)

Loowit was living up to her “smoking mountain” name. Local vendors made a brisk trade in t-shirts and souvenirs. But after a few weeks, media and public interest began to wane.

Weyerhaeuser logging, the main employer and property owner in the region, couldn’t let a few earthquakes get in the way of million-dollar profits, not when the logging season was so short. Nor was the state’s fishing and game department happy about the closure of popular lakes and recreation areas. Their main source of income was permits, and it was the start of the hunting and fishing season.

So Governor Dixy Lee Ray shrank the boundaries of the “Red Zone,” the mandatory evacuation area that USGS scientists had advised. She drew in the exclusion zone to just three miles from the summit on the northwest side, along the Weyerhaeuser property line. Hundreds of miles of logging roads now offered public access outside the roadblocks.

Geologists warned about pyroclastic flow and mudflow, but most people still imagined lava like Hawaii’s. Besides, the geologists couldn’t tell when or even if these things would happen. All they knew was that St. Helens had done it before. 

Except this time, she was doing something new:

“Bulge” from the side a few days before eruption, photo by Peter Lipman. 

That bulge distorting Forsythe Glacier was swelling 3-4 feet towards the north each day, an unheard-of ground movement. Geologists guessed it would come down in an avalanche/landslide that could reach as far as Spirit Lake. Dr. David Johnston was one of the most outspoken on the danger, communicating eloquently to state officials and news media.

But the earthquakes and ash explosions had died down. Residents of Spirit Lake kicked up a fuss, and were grudgingly given permission to retrieve belongings from their cabins on Saturday, May 17. They were planning to return Sunday.

At 8:31 Sunday morning, David Johnston was on duty at the monitoring post the USGS had established on Coldwater Ridge, five miles north of the mountain. (Above, photo of David from the day before, snapped by a colleague saying goodbye).

At 8:32, one more earthquake, not much bigger than those before, was the straw that broke the camel’s back. It triggered the biggest landslide in human history (frames 1-4):

[Animation stitched together from still photos by Gary Rosenquist, 11 miles NE]

Ham radio operators heard David Johnston’s last words as he shouted a warning: Vancouver! Vancouver! This is it!

Within minutes, Mount St. Helens was 1300 feet shorter, with a huge crater over a mile across cutting deeply into its north face. The landslide ran out seventeen miles.

Another view, AP, from The Atlantic’s St. Helens photo gallery.

That landslide had popped the cork. An explosion more powerful than an atom bomb blasted out: an absolutely colossal pyroclastic flow. Every living thing on and near the mountain was blown away or incinerated, topsoil scoured right down to bedrock. No one ever found a trace of Johnston’s trailer. Beyond the zone of total destruction, trees up to 10 feet across were blown down pointing away from the mountain for dozens of square miles. Beyond the blowdown zone, standing trees were stripped and scorched.

Lakes were dashed out of their basins and sloshed back in miniature tsunamis, dragging debris down with them. Spirit Lake’s bed was raised 100 feet by landslide fill. More pyroclastic surges followed, devastating over 200 square miles of forest. Charred branches, needles and cones fell on awestruck climbers on Mt Adams and Mt Hood, watching from 30 and 60 miles away.

That was how geologists learned that, every now and then, volcanoes don’t blow up. They blow sideways.

USGS photo of blowdown zone (see scientists at lower right for scale).

St. Helens did it all: lahars that flooded river valleys and bulldozed houses and bridges, ash fall, pumice fall, mudball fall, and more. Immense clouds of ash caused white-out (or rather, black-out) conditions, blanketing and shutting down most of Washington State for days. The Columbia River’s shipping channel had to be closed for dredging after its 40-foot depth was filled in to 17 feet. Intermittent eruptions continued for months.

Ash cloud reaches Ephrata airport, Washington. Mike Cash/AP.

In her press conference, Governor Dixy Lee Ray said that those killed in the eruption had deliberately bypassed roadblocks and violated the “Red Zone.” President Jimmy Carter took her at her word and repeated the claim. That’s the story I remember from The Big Blast, a Scholastic book about the eruption that came out later that year.

Eruption seen from Toledo, WA, taken by Rocky Kolberg

In fact, only four of the 57 victims were inside the “Red Zone”, and three had permission: USGS official David Johnston and two scientists staying at Spirit Lake for field research. The only person who had defied evacuation orders was an old codger, Harry Truman (no relation of the president), who refused to leave his lakeside lodge. Governor Ray had sent him a letter congratulating him on sticking to his principles.

Unsigned on the governor’s desk lay a proposal for a revised hazard map devised by sheriffs and geologists in consultation with Weyerhaeuser, moving the restricted zone’s boundaries back out by several miles.

Day after eruption; vast pumice plain still steaming with melting fragments of the mountain’s glacier embedded in debris. AP.

Mount St. Helens was made an official national monument. It’s become an enormous laboratory for geologists to study deposits left by a well-documented eruption, and for biologists to study how life recolonizes an area sterilized by a catastrophe. 

(My photo, Aug 22, 2017, Toppled stump embedded in slope; Johnston Ridge Visitor Center behind.)

 A visitor center was built on barren Coldwater Ridge, renamed Johnston Ridge. There, 37 years later, I stood listening to a ranger who wasn’t born in 1980, telling tourists about mountain goats and hummingbirds returning to the crater. I watched bees buzzing among a profusion of flowers, ground squirrels chasing each other in burrows under the stumps of dead giants, fir saplings growing where a 200-foot-tall mature forest once stood.

Sightseers posed for selfies in front of Loowit, still lovely even with her scars. They gazed out at the spectacular, alien landscape, softened now by greenery creeping back. It’s a miraculous transformation, considering the bleak moonscape of just a dozen or so years ago.

The visitor center doesn’t dwell on those who died. Far better to focus on creation than destruction.

(My photo, Aug 22, 2017. Flowers on Johnston Ridge)

But some stories you learn as a child stay with you. 

So while I spent three hours exploring a flower-tufted ridge below that massive, strangely beautiful mountain, I also paid my respects to 57 names carved in stone, many of whose stories I know. I brushed fingers against the name of  David A. Johnston. I looked out at that huge scooped-out crater on the mountainside and whispered, Vancouver, Vancouver, this is it!