#Is it odd or am I being judgmental? Hmmm

[millerflintstone]

I just saw someone elsewhere on social media had their own selfie (a current one) as a lock screen and I don't know how to feel about that.

[breadvidence]

'72 part II in detail, part 1. My overall feelings are still "hmmm", but now they are "hmmm" backed with line-by-line film analysis. I'd emphasize that this adaptation accomplishes a lot that's interesting and fresh, and you can dig in to it critically in a way that would collapse a film like '52 or '98. Ultimately it fails for me as a whole, but not without me being glad to have the pieces in hand that are good.

Julien Verdier plays the best Mabeuf, which—well—just because the competition isn't brisk doesn't mean you didn't win it, right? We open part II with a little speech of his that if I'm not mistaken (correct me if I'm wrong!) does not come from the Brick, but is a bit of freewheeling on the adaptation's part. Given the placement, it seems significant, and the temptation to boil it down into some straightforward political sentiment is strong, given the series' overall sense of politicalness. Eventually this man's degradation (his priceless books being made cheap by the necessity of their sale to literal goods) makes him a revolutionary of sorts, if a very wobbly and incoherent one—some counterpoint, a complication, maybe, to the fact that poverty in this story otherwise leads to crime? Not sure.

Thénardier continues to have far more status in '72 than in the Brick or other adaptations. The musical master of the house wishes. You see, the narrator takes us on a breakneck adaptation of III.VII: we open with III.VII.I "Il y a sous la construction sociale, cette merveille compliquée d'une masure—" and skip mid-breath to III.VII.II "—et il y aura, tant que l'ignorance ne sera pas dissipée, la grande caverne du mal," it is a charge through a very dense section of novel, and these are as far as I can be fucked to pick out all direct quotes until we get to the very end: "Avoir faim, avoir soif, c'est le point de départ; être—" Well, in the novel, Satan. In '72? "—Thénardier, c'est l'arrivée." The camera zooms in on Alain Mottet's best quivery stare; his beard is very bad. I am of several minds: on the one hand, if you don't know the original sentence culminates in Satan, you wouldn't think it's odd to find Thénardier, and it's perfectly possible the script writer was only thinking, I've got these badass lines but I really need my tv series to be a little more concrete than Hugolian, and Alain Mottet is more concrete than the Father of Lies. On the other hand: perhaps they're saying that the original text sees the outcome of all this to be the Catholic concept that is Satan, but they see it to be the concrete harmful/harmed individual human. Or, on a foot: '72 Thénardier is the fucking Devil. Whatever the case may be, in the Brick Thénardier does not even appear in III.VII—Hugo is talking about Patron Minette, and he's not a member. Given Thénardier's importance to this series, I don't mind this change at all.

After this really significant and interesting alteration to its source text '72 proceeds to decide Brujon is now a fifth main player in PM. lol, ok.

Nicole Jamet looks stoned off her gourd this entire series, with an expressive range from numbly dull to a ghastly blank smile. I hunted down clips of her in La piovra to see if this is her acting style overall, and while she's a little flat there as well, it's more in the line of being afraid to show a wrinkle and less whatever's happening in Les Misérables. Since it's paired with Georges Géret's Valiumjean I derive this is a directorial choice. It's our luck she only appears in, generously, 20 minutes of part II. I don't think I've ever wanted less Cosette in a LM adaptation, but she's such an unpleasant take on the character that I'd rather simply not.

I re-read IV.V.VI to see whether my harsh judgment of Nicole Jamet's performance in this scene was unfair—maybe Hugo also described Cosette as baked, I've been wrong before, and I won't blame an adaptation for fidelity. But, nah. Jamet more or less stands and stares, a little head shake here, a little lips parting there. In the novel, while we aren't given as much of Cosette's interiority as Marius' (thanks, Hugo) and we don't hear her voice at all as much (THANKS, Hugo), we see her first caught between two impulses: "Cosette, though ready to swoon, uttered no cry. She retreated slowly, for she felt herself attracted." and then a point of drama, "And she sank down as though on the point of death." I'm not saying you have to be howling and flailing your way through it, but c'mon, there's life to be found in this moment, and Jamet is a stiff. There is the issue that Marius monologues and we have zero idea in the novel of Cosette's actions during this time—a challenge, yes; one the film doesn't meet.

Now I'm being a petty bitch, but I don't like that they changed the exchange from "Vous m'aimez donc?" "Tais-toi! tu le sais!" to "Et vous, est-ce que vous m'aimez?" "Je t'aime." Please, let someone tell Marius "tais-toi". (To be clear, I think it unfair to expect an adaptation to completely follow the source text. but. y'know. If you're going to have this many direct quotes, maybe don't put in bland substitutions where your deeply invested viewership will notice them.)

Great adaptation of Gavroche and the mômes in this. The whole exchange around "monsieur, pourquoi vous avez pas un chat?" "j'en avais un, mais les souris l'ont mangé" kills me, it hits the pitch perfectly of the combined humor and horror of the situation.

In continued "Thénardier is the main character of '72" news, the scene in which he's saved from the top of the wall takes about four minutes—about a minute and a half more screentime than Marius and Cosette's first love confession. Not to get into the nitty-gritty of what this series cares about, or anything.

By the by, Claquesous rather than Montparnasse comes to fetch Gavroche, a small change that I suppose is irrelevant overall when the series doesn't have the time to draw the Montparnasse-as-future-Gavroche connection anyway, but which falls into this pattern '72 has of odd small alterations to Patron Minette.

Hermine Karagheuz's performance is uneven overall, in my opinion, but I could watch on a loop as she replies to Thénardier's "Faut bien qu'on vive, tout de même" with a raspy "Crevez". Having driven off the would-be thieves, she takes a few shuddering breaths, she collapses back against the gates with a gagging exhalation, she looks like she's going to be sick. Is it dramatic? Hell, yes. I'm into it.

We cut to Jamet, who cannot even fake weep.

I feel awkward that I've got nothing meaningful to say as we swing into revolution mode even though this is an essential pivot point in the series. Shrug emoji.

I have a very bad ear for French but one of the terms I can pick out reliably is now "mouchard". Thanks, Javert. I got nothin' deep to say still as he is uncovered at the barricade, but I did laugh when the revolutionaries steal his hat in the process of searching him. Did they think he was hiding something up there? Better check in his whiskers next.

This adaptation really suffers from the lack of Le Cabuc.

On my initial watch of this series the poetry recital wrecked my shit, here we have one man say "Do you remember our sweet life, when we were so young, we two, and we had in our hearts no other desire than to be well-dressed, and to be in love," another responds "We... We lived hidden away"———the combination of the stutter and the furtiveness, y'all, I did a double take, I knew fandom would've alerted me if there was explicit homosexuality in this, and still I had a moment when I thought I saw the ripples in a waving rainbow flag.

They pull directly from Hugo's aside about civil war in IV.XIII.III for Enjolras' speech—I'm not sure how often '72 actually puts narration into characters' mouths rather than into the narrator's, now that I think about it (would have to re-rewatch which isn't going to happen anytime soon). This is interesting to me; we have here a character who makes several speeches, all pertinent to the politics of revolution, and yet instead the show decides to have him recite—a passage which occurs in the inglorious context of Marius justifying to himself that he is fine to shed French blood when his father shed that of foreigners.

I'll come back for the final thirty minutes another time—that's enough for now.

[13eyond13]

My mind's drawing blanks for the ask thingy but UHMMM UHHMMM do you...want to talk about Death Note? Can I have your thoughts on your least favorite character and why you dislike them AND OR your favorite character? ♥

Hello hello again ♡ thank you ever so much for sending me an ask, ofc I always am delighted to talk about Death Note, even if I have been here flapping my lips so long about it that I probably have repeated myself one gazillion times over the years 👀

LEAST FAVES:

I honestly don't dislike any of the Death Note cast too intensely. At least not compared to some other series that have characters that severely get under my skin! BUT if I had to pick the top three that maybe do the least for me personally on a regular basis, I would say:

• Rem - love her design and her concept, but find the writing behind her character is often both confusing and disappointing (her devotion to Misa doesn't always make a ton of sense to me. Nor do the times she suddenly changes her mind about some of the things that she strongly believes and feels whenever it is convenient for the plot). Wish I cared about her more, because she plays such a pivotal role

• Mello - I don't know why his actions in this series bother me the most out of all of the characters (like clearly Light would technically have a much higher body count than he does), but I think it's because Mello is the most overtly physically aggressive one of the entire cast with the way he waves his gun around all willy-nilly and violently kidnaps a different girl on seemingly every other page. And I don't feel like we often get much deeper insight into his thoughts or emotions so that I can at least more clearly see where he's coming from, even despite not having much in common with him nor liking how he behaves

Mikami - there's nothing wrong with how he is written or anything along those lines, but I think he reminds me a bit too much of the extremely strictly religious and morally judgmental people that I spent so much of my childhood around and now find so very hard on the head. It's always been a bit difficult for me to ever warm up to him enough to get emotionally invested in shipping him or reading fics about him or anything else

FAVES:

• Light -(but I'm not going to do him the honour of writing up a list of reasons why, exactly what the bastard would want... let's just say that I think the series would basically be nothing without him)

And OTHERWISE my fave fictional character of all-time is definitely L! So let me just copy/paste you all my reasonings from another past ask about this below:

• L -It’s a bit tricky to articulate exactly why I enjoy him so much, and I think it’s complicated by the fact that I feel he’s sometimes overrated in the fandom and/or reduced to a lesser caricature of himself in basically every DN adaptation/spinoff out there. But manga!L is very entertaining to analyze for me because there’s always this intriguing duality and ambiguity about his personality and behaviour. Hmmm, let me try to explain… 

THE ODD DUALITY OF L:

HONEST vs DISHONEST- he’s clearly often deceptive and elusive about stuff, and yet there’s also this sense that he’s actually a very simple and bluntly straight-forward person much of the time, too. I have so much fun reading between the lines with his cryptic moods and so many of the unexpected things that he does and says from time to time. And I love that all the other characters around him are constantly doing the same with L, too. Their incredulous double-takes and suspicious side-eyeing of him always makes me lol

EGOTISTICAL vs HUMBLE - there are so many examples in the manga of moments where L is either slyly showing off or possibly being genuinely demure regarding impressive things about himself. It’s always so hard to tell the difference and it’s always 10/10

CORRUPT vs THE “GOOD GUY” - he’s super morally grey at all times, and I’m always drawn to those more complicated types. I’ve seen the fandom produce so many wildly different takes about his goodness and his evilness over time on both extreme ends of the scale, and I often find it difficult to strike the proper balance when talking about L as well. It’s very easy to characterize him as overly cruel and corrupt or overly noble and kind, and it’s always way more interesting to me when a character is that difficult to define

REFINED vs FERAL - L’s always daintily sipping tea cups in his luxury hotel suite while simultaneously barefoot crouching on the chair and scribbling all over the coffee table with a permanent marker. Everything about him is a bizarre combination of these two polar opposite traits, and yet it always seems to make sense completely whenever you think about it as well

AWKWARD/OBLIVIOUS vs SLY/MANIPULATIVE- always a fun question to ask yourself during L’s more questionable social interactions and shady decisions

KINKY vs TAME- he’s so weirdly suggestive and also extremely not at the same time, idk why but it works so well for his character and it’s just the funniest thing ever to me lol

OVERBEARING vs ALOOF- he’s somehow both incredibly nosy and overly involved and also very detached and distant from everyone simultaneously

LIVING THE DREAM vs TRAGIC, LONELY LIFE- I enjoy the depressing implications that can arise from contemplating his lonely existence and questionable past and the sad way his story ends… but that he’s also totally non-edgy and oddly goofy in some ways and seems to be having a great time doing exactly what he wants to be doing, too

I think all this ambiguity and constant tightrope-walking could easily become gimmicky and tiresome in a character, and yet it’s so well done and always makes sense and never annoys me in the least. L’s somehow both incredibly vague and incredibly precise and consistent as a character at the same time, which is pretty interesting and impressive to me. Light and the other characters in L’s orbit always seem to have the same questions about him as the audience does, and you never get concrete answers about any of it most of the time. There’s so much stuff left up to interpretation intentionally by O&O in Death Note, and I appreciate that enduring sense of mystery surrounding some of L’s true feelings and motives even long after he’s gone.

I also can’t overstate how much of L’s appeal is simply due to what an excellent foil and antagonist he is for Light. L is my favourite, but I think Light is by far the most interesting character and the whole reason the story is such a classic in the first place. The way L constantly thwarts Light and yet also spurs him on to show off and double down on his Kira shit is super entertaining to watch. You gotta respect how effectively L can push Light’s buttons and always keep him sweating, and you really get why Light seemingly both loves and hates their interactions so much. Light’s curiously positive emotional reactions to L and his enduring respect for him even after he dies is some of the most interesting stuff about the entire story to me, too. That definitely adds to L’s intrigue, as does the way the successors and the task force continue to muse about him long after he’s gone.

Overall I just think L is a highly entertaining and well-written and well-designed character, weirdly simple and complicated and funny and sad all at once, super relatable and a Constant Mood™ despite being so prickly and enigmatic, and a definite scene-stealer for me whenever he’s onscreen. I’m not really sure what pushes him to favourite of all time status for me?? But my lizard brain just seems to love him and has loved him for at least the past decade and a half. So at this point I must simply shrug and accept my fate

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine

The Reader and Erik’s friends are trying to set them both up on a blind date but the catch is...they’re already dating.

Warnings: Fluff. Slight smut, short.

When friends interfere there is no going back....

Four women positioned around a freshly baked pan of peach cobbler with spoons in their hands scooping it out to add to their bowls of vanilla ice cream. It was after they just had a steak dinner and some red wine. They all planned to go out with their boyfriends to a Carnival that’s in town. All accept for Y/N who was single and would be without a date to attend the Carnival. Her friends and and their boyfriends had a trick up their sleeves. Y/N wasn’t going to be the single one out of the group any longer...

“What are you smiling about, Y/N?” Nisha, Y/N’s friend since the 4th grade asks while trying to peek at her phone.

“Just these dumb ass memes, they are so funny,” Y/N giggles, “I swear, the internet is undefeated.”

“For a second there I thought you were talking to some guy.”

Y/N placed her phone face down, looking up at Nisha with a tight smile on her lips as if she was hiding something, “When you know, you’ll know.”

“Well,” Nisha looked around at the other two women. Frankie, Y/N and Nisha’s friend from college who has smooth butter pecan skin and shoulder length layered Auburn hair and Lanay, Nisha’s cousin who stood at 4’ 11, chubby, long natural hair that reached her waist, shared the same sneaky look with Nisha, “We just might know sooner than you think.”

Y/N licks the sweet peaches from her spoon, before taking her tongue to lick the sugary bits off her upper lip, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We took it upon ourselves to set up a blind date for you tonight,” Frankie spoke up first.

“A blind date? Really y’all?” Y/N let’s out a suppressed laugh while giving all of them an odd look, “Listen, I trust y’all judgment but...I’m not tryna go on a date with a man-“

“He’s perfect! You said we know you right? This one is the exact match for you. Funny, intellectual, tall, smells great, very very handsome, has a career-“

“Can’t forget his voice...we know how much you love a man with a sexy voice-“

“You guys, calm down,” Y/N held up her hands at all of them, “I’m good. I’ve been tagging along while y’all are in relationships so what’s the difference?”

“It’s just time, sis. Time to forget about the whack motherfuckers you’ve been with and open your heart to a new and improved man.” Lanay spoke while secretly being nudged in the arm by Frankie to say something.

“Is he a build-a-nigga? Y’all talking about him like he was made in a factory like a Ken doll.”

“He’s that great!” Nisha says with excitement, “Honestly, you two will hit it off instantly when we get to the Carnival.”

Y/N could do nothing but giggle at her girls. They were so pushy when it came down to trying to hook her up with men. All Y/N wanted to do was go to the Carnival and have some fun on rides that she hadn’t been on since she was in high school.

“The only reason why I’m going to agree to this is because he could possibly win me a big Pikachu and I’ve ALWAYS WANTED a big Pikachu. This is strictly on a friend level, okay?”

“When you see him, you won’t say that anymore,” Frankie wagged her brows.

“He’s that amazing, Ugh,” Lanay touches her heart like she was in love.

“Why don’t you two share him then?” Y/N poked fun at them both, “Y’all seem more excited about him than I do.”

“He can win you the big Pikachu and he can give you big orgasms,” Nisha shrugs.

“SIS,” Y/N shoves her, “Why are you so nasty? I’m not sleeping with this man, whoever he is, what’s his name anyway?!”

“Can’t, you’ll find out when we get there-“

Lanay cuts off Nisha, “because we know you start judging based off of names-“

Y/N cuts off Lanay, “Well, can you blame me? Names can tell a lot about a man.”

A knock came to Nisha’s door, a big smile on her face while she rubbed her hands together deviously, “That’s Craig and Shawn. Chavez and your mystery man are going to meet us at the Carnival.”

“Wait...,” Y/N says while Nisha walks away to open her door, “So ALL OF YALL are in on this?”

“The guys are friends with him. We’ve all hung out together before. Not so much lately because he’s been busy but that’s how we met him,” Frankie clarifies.

“Okay...see...y’all are some plotting, medaling, motherfuckers,” Y/N snatched up her black mini backpack that had a cute pink and black faux fur dice key ring attached to it, walking away and towards the living room where Nisha talked with Craig and Shawn. Craig and Shawn are tall and muscular like a couple of football players. Craig is Trinidadian and Shawn is from Ghana. Both of them could pass for brothers. Smooth carob skin with matching kinky fros and thick facial hair.

“Sup, Y/N,” Craig playful gave Y/N dabs to mess with her, “You ready to get on some roller coasters?”

“I’m ready to fuss both of y’all out,” Y/N says with her hands on her hips, “What is wrong with y’all setting me up on a blind date?”

“Just tryna look out for you. We approve, you’ll be fine,” Shawn spoke nonchalantly.

“Y’all get on my damn nerves,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “can we go?”

“Yeah, the car is unlocked, Miss Salty,” Craig always called Y/N that, “Yeah, my mans would love you. He like girls with attitude and mouth.”

“Well your MANS don’t know who he’s fucking with.”

————————-

Finally at the Carnival, Everyone entered in a group, making their way towards the arcade where Chavez said to meet. Y/N couldn’t help but to adjust the short pleated black skirt that she wore and the cropped black tank with a chain lace up in the front. She looked cute and sporty. If she was going to entertain this man for the duration of the night at least look good. The big arcade sign with the outrageously bright lights couldn’t go unnoticed as they approached. Y/N instantly spots Chavez sharing a blunt with a guy who’s back is turned towards them with a white hoodie on that had the words, Good Sex No Stress One Boo No Ex Small Circle Big Checks on it in pink lettering. Black sweats on and white Nike Hauraches, he was indeed tall, maybe 6’ 3 1/2. He could also pass for a football player too. Chavez was the shortest out of all the men but he was still tall, caramel skin and a close cut.

“There he isssss,” Nisha says to Y/N while her arm was linked with Craig’s, “You ready?”

“Nisha, shut up,” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Hey, they’re here,” Chavez taps the mystery guys shoulder, “Where’s YN-“

“Hey Chavez,” she looked over to the guy who was currently putting out the blunt on the wall of the arcade.

“Erik, this is Y/N. Y/N, Erik.”

HOLY SHIT.

Y/N sucked in a panting breath. She was stunned where she stood. Those onyx eyes. Those full lips. That broad nose. The dreads that peaked out of the top of his hood. Is this really happening?

“I told you sis,” Nisha laughs are her friends stuck expression, “Erik, I’m sorry she’s being so damn rude.”

Erik blinked like he was back to reality. His composure was more put together than Y/N’s. He clears his throat, putting out his hand for her to shake.

“Sup’ ma?”

Y/N grabs his large calloused hand, shaking it slowly, “H-Hi.”

“She is shook,” Frankie whispered as she approached her man, Chavez, to give him a kiss.

“So, where to first?” Craig asks.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Nisha looked around the group, “What do y’all think?”

“Maybe we can play some games first,” Erik suggests with his eyes still on Y/N, unblinking.

“You could win Y/N a big Pikachu,” Lanay spoke with enthusiasm, “She always wanted one.”

“I can do that,” Erik looks Y/N up and down, “That’s okay, right?”

“Y-yeah,” She gave a shivering inhale, “Sure.”

—————————

“Get these rings around the bottles to win a big Pokémon.”

Erik accepted his rings, rolling up the sleeves to his hoodie before looking down at Y/N then over his shoulder. The others were occupied with other Carnival games to worry about Y/N and Erik. Y/N was mute the entire time, afraid to even look at Erik.

“You can breath now, baby girl,” Erik tosses the first ring successfully, “They are far enough away for you to be yourself around me like you were last night.”

“Erik,” Y/N whispered while watching him make the second bottle, “I didn’t want them to know about us until I knew for sure that this was official.”

“We just started dating like, almost a month ago, Y/N. I know you have your boundaries and shit but if I’m putting in time with one girl that’s what it is. I told you this before-“

“Then you should know why I am the way I am. I’ve been played plenty of times, okay?”

Erik tosses the third ring, the Game Worker impressed with his skills since most people miss. He pauses, looking down at Y/N with his onyx eyes that made her melt, “This ain’t just a what the fuck moment for you, it is for me too. They wouldn’t tell me who you were and them niggas kept nagging me to give it a chance so I went along with it to play nice but now that I know it’s you, ain’t no playing nice. Consider this date number three, sweetheart.”

Y/N blushes with a bite of her lower lip, “If you win me that Pikachu I’ll give you a secret kiss in the tunnel of love.”

“How about a secret touch too? Can a nigga get that?”

Y/N rolls her eyes with a pretty smile, “Depends on what this touch is.”

“Hmmm,” Erik squints his eyes with a dimpled smile, “You just gotta wait and see what these hands can do. They had you squirming with just a cuff of that ass.”

“Stopppp,” Y/N whispers.

Erik made the fourth ring. This was already set in the bag.

“Wow!” The Game Worker who’s name tag read Kenny claps, “Three more rings and the Pikachu is yours!”

“It’s already mine,” Y/N says while watching Erik continue to be successful, “He’s just that good.”

“Let me get it down.”

Y/N squeals, jumping up and down before giving Erik a one arm hug. She looked over her shoulder and noticed Nisha, Frankie, and Lanay pointing and laughing. If only they knew.

“Chill out, ma. It’s just a hug. You acting like you got your tongue in my mouth or something...unless?” Erik licks his lips, “I know how much you like my tongue.”

“Get my Pikachu, big head.”

Erik chuckles, grabbing the Pikachu and handing it to Y/N. It was almost let height with how short she is.

“You look fucking adorable with your fine ass.”

“Thank you handsome,” Y/N reached for his hand, “Take me to the tunnel of love.”

—————————-

It wasn’t a tunnel of love it was a scary tunnel. Y/N didn’t see how this would be romantic but it was dark enough for Erik to get his kiss and touch. Y/N and Erik were last to get in, the rest of their friends in wagons before them. Erik placed the Pikachu in his lap, taking one of his arms to wrap around Y/N, stroking her arm as the wagons entered the dark tunnel. Out of no where, dark green lights ignited their path, misshapen mirrors on the walls and smoke rising from below the tracks.

“This is so damn eerie,” Nisha looked around with wary eyes, “I’m scared somebody gonna pop out.”

Y/N wasn’t bothered nor did she have to time to admire the tunnel because Erik was kissing her neck. The big ass head of the Pikachu covered his actions. He was tonguing her neck down, Y/N’s eyes fluttering shut. her feet in her platform vans went up on her tiptoes and her thighs clenched tightly. Her mouth opened slowly when his tongue licked her ear, a quiet gasp escaping her mouth. Erik tickled her ear with the air from his nose when he started laughing.

“Don’t make me put you in my lap, Y/N.”

As good as that sounded, she couldn’t do that anyway since they were on a ride. His hand came from around her to rest on her upper thigh. Erik squeezes it, Y/N making her thighs go tight so Erik wouldn’t get his hand up her skirt.

“Stingy.” He whispers before smacking her thigh.

Y/N kisses her teeth, looking straight ahead at her friends before opening her legs.

“Oh? I can get in there now? We moving from first base?”

“You are an ass,” Y/N jumps when she feels his finger tips on her crotch.

“This a phat pussy,” He looked down at her, his face bathed in the green light so lustful, “I just know she juicy too.”

“Shut...up,” Y/N pulled in a lung full of air when Erik’s fingers pinched her pussy lips together.

“Yep, nice and phat.”

Y/N was still stuck on the fact that Erik is her blind date when they are already dating. Now, his hands were up her skirt rubbing and pinching her pussy lips. He was making her soaking wet and she knew for sure he could feel it.

“YES LETS GET OUT OF HERE THIS IS BORING.” Frankie yells from the front causing everyone else to laugh.

Erik slaps her pussy a few times before taking his hand from under her skirt. Y/N let’s out a disappointing sigh as the wagons line up outside of the tunnel. Erik gets out, teaching down to grab Y/N out with one arm. He hands her the Pikachu before wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

“Y’all move quick I see,” Craig commented while watching Erik and Y/N.

“Y’all were right, I’m feeling her so far,” Erik says while staring at Y/N like she was the most precious thing on earth.

“Awww how cute,” Lanay looked like she wanted to take a picture of the moment.

“Where to next?” Chavez asked.

“A roller coaster?” Y/N suggests, “We can do The Volcano.”

“Oh, hell nah. I know that’s not the one where your legs are swinging?!” Frankie looked petrified.

“Those are the best ones though,” Erik was down.

“Count me out. Baby, can we try the Wild One?”

The Wild One is a standard wooden roller coaster.

“Yeah, babe, that’s fine.”

They both left to go there, leaving everyone else to go on The Volcano.

The walk was pretty short, Erik and Y/N hand in hand. The line for The Volcano was pretty short. Y/N placed her Pikachu near a shelf with her bag. She got in her seat, bringing the bar down in front of her to secure it. Erik helped her out, tightening it to make sure it was in place. The Ride Worker came around, pushing down on the padded bars before pulling it to make sure it was in place. The worker put his thumb up to signal that it was all clear before the ride started up. It was one of those coasters that has a fast take off. Y/N squeezed Erik’s hand, causing him to laugh before the ride blasted off causing Y/N to scream at the top of her lungs.

—————————

Her hair was definitely a mess but she didn’t care. Her and Erik were in line alone for another roller coaster. It was the Wild One. They sat close together, their thighs touching and Erik placing his hand in her lap.

“You still look sexy as fuck with a messy bun.”

“I should have known not to fix my hair all fancy,” Y/N glances up at Erik, “This is my favorite date of ours so far.”

The ride began to ascend.

“Mines too. Especially hearing you scream like a fucking banshee,” Y/N shoves Erik, his laugh making her smile.

“I always scream on roller coasters even when I love them.”

“It’s cool,” Erik’s hand went further up her skirt.

“Erik, what are you doing?” Y/N looked down at his hand spreading her thighs. She could see him pull her panties to the side, her pussy instantly feeling the wind and cooling the heat she felt from being so damn turned on. He takes his thumb and his middle finger to spread her lips, the tip of his pointer finger rubbing circles around her clit. Y/N’s head went back, eyes closing and her moans caught in her throat.

“We’re almost there,” Erik speaks in a soft tone, making Y/N crave him more. His fingers traveled lower, two of them leisurely sinking inside of her pussy. Y/N moans softly, her hands coming out in front of her to firmly grasp the bars before the feeling of falling overcame her. Everyone else around her screamed through the thrill but all Y/N could do was moan and smile with Erik’s fingers attacking her pussy. Her hair whipped across her face with every turn, Erik watching her with a big handsome smile. Another drop came, Y/N squealing a little while her hips moved in tandem with Erik’s thrusts. She never felt this charged in her life, her body leaned in towards his during a turn, her laughs and gasps of pleasure against his neck. Erik turns his head, her hair in his face while their lips crashed. The ride began to slow down her thighs tightening around his hand because she didn’t want him to stop. Erik reluctantly pulls his hand out, causing Y/N to whimper. He licks his fingers clean before helping her out of the cart and adjusting her skirt. Her but was no longer there, long curly hair all over her head. Erik smooths her hair out of her face before giving her a kiss.

“OOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

Both of them turn to spot their friends watching.

“That’s my boy Erik!” Shawn called out before wolf whistling.

“YALL ARE SO CUTE!” Nisha looked like a proud mother.

Y/N looks up at Erik through her lashes, “Should we tell them?”

Erik wraps his arm around her shoulder, walking Y/N over to get her bag and her Pikachu, “Nah, let’s drag this out, it’s fun.”

“You are so devious.”

[rottenprincessshura100]

First chapter of Fanfic.

I’m reposting this in case people haven’t read it. This is the first chapter of the fanfic I’ve been working on for years. It started off as just a conversation in my head. What would Mephisto be like in a job interview? If a person met him for the first time, how strange would it be? He’s cunning, manipulative, and of course obviously a demon. Bits and pieces of me are evident in this chapter, i have a background in contemporary arts as does my OC character. (I started off writing what I know.) I thought back to that time when I finished grad school, was completely broke and couch surfing. What time a job would I have done for basic groceries? Pretty much anything.

Anyway...here it is. Feel free to pick apart the writing style. I’m trying to improve and get better at it. ;)

CHAPTER 1

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

Well, I hope today's interview will go well.  

My student loan papers sat on my kitchen table with ominous foreboding. It was time to pay up.

I won't allow this new job to define my life, and it would be good enough, just for now. Plus, I'd get a chance to spend more time in my studio making art. I just had to impress the academy director during today's interview, and I'd be able to afford some decent groceries in two weeks. That's right, Evie, think positive!

So, what should I wear to this silly thing?

It's a private religious school; that means I should dress as professionally as possible.

I have two suits to my name, so I guess I'll wear a black jacket and a red blouse. Or is the red shirt too much? Yeah, I look like a cocktail waitress.

Back to the closet I go.

Okay, how about the wine-coloured blouse and black jacket? Sensible pants and a pair of heels. Fine.

My hair is a bit harder to work with; it's pinkish-brown. I'm an artist, so I tend to be riskier in my appearance. Today though, I have to clean up—no wild eye-makeup. I need to look like an ordinary boring temp worker that can file paperwork. I pull my hair back into a severe bun, like a schoolmarm or a librarian. Yep, now I look like a vodka aunt in a cheap suit. Effective.

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I drove along the busy narrow streets through True Cross Acadamy town. The school was a place for the well-to-do, and I'm almost embarrassed to park my junky car on the grounds.

Much to my mortification, the car backfired, drawing numerous stares from the crowds of uniform-clad students, practically bursting from every building.

Poor-ass artist alert! Here I am!

I slunk down into the seat, hoping the sun's reflection on the windshield washed out the crimson stain quickly spreading across my pale, freckled face.

After speaking with a guard at the main gate (located at the far end of an ancient drawbridge), he instructed me to drive up a long winding road to the highest point. This so-called town was, in reality, a walled city, consisting of tightly layered buildings in an array of architectural styles, all flawlessly intermixed. It was the oddest urban planning I'd ever seen, either designed by a crazy man or an absolute genius. From my own experience, I find the line between the two decidedly thin in most circumstances.

People from the mainland would often joke that True Cross City would never be completed but renovated in an endless loop. The rumours stated that the school's wealthy director never allowed the construction cranes to cease because it was merely bad luck to stay idle.

I continued my drive through the school campus to the mountain's apex—my job interview scheduled at the golden manor house of Sir Johann Faust on the 5th. The director himself would see me in his private office.

I swallowed back a slight wave of apprehension. I hope this guy isn't some sort of pervert. He most assuredly was eccentric. That I could handle.

I pulled up in front of Faust Palace, and just like the rest of the town, it's unusual. As I parked and exited my car, I'm in the shadow of tall golden spires shining like twin suns. The rest of the building reminds me of a cross between an ancient Greek temple, an art deco apartment and a mythical Arabian kingdom. I wiped my sweaty palms on the sides of my black dress pants, my demeanour full of apprehension.

Yeah, I don't belong here. I've got a bad feeling about this.

At that point, I decided to leave. Yet, I watched with foreboding as a pair of security guards materialized from the shadows and closed the elaborate golden gate, trapping me within the compound. Shit!

I made my way over the interlocking marble slabs to the ornately carved wooden front door with a heavy sigh. Before I'm able to raise my hand to knock, it quickly opens. A short older gentleman greeted me with a nod.

"Miss Evelynn Smith?" He inquired.

"Uh...yes. I'm here for the interview?"

"I am Belial, the keeper of the house. Please follow me; Director Faust will meet with you shortly."

The butler escorted me up a seemingly endless hallway. It was odd that an inconsequential temp worker, like myself, was being given the grand tour.

White marble pillars accented the grand structure, with furniture from various periods arranged throughout the abode in mini tableaus. It seemed more like a museum than someone's house. How very strange!

There were many rooms with identical doors; this place was more like a goddamn labyrinth than a manor house! I hope I can find my way out of here after this interview was over!

I tried to get a feel for my potential boss. Being an artist, I, of course, took in the paintings that hung salon-style from every square inch of walls. There seemed to be an abundance of demons and death themes. How morbid.

Stefan Lochner, The Last Judgment, Vincent Van Gogh, Head of a Skeleton with a Burning Cigarette. But wait? Aren't these all part of museum collections? I'm confused. Are they copies?

Just as the creepy dark artworks start to grate on my nerves, I round the corner into the next hallway and find myself engrossed within a pop art nightmare; wall-to-wall pink Takashi Murakami paintings hung in tandem with Jeff Koons, Made in Heaven.

Jesus! Who the hell was this guy? He's adorned his house in pink flowers and porn stars! Surely the students didn't walk into this hall?

As if on cue, the butler regarded me sheepishly. "Pupils are not permitted in Director Faust's residence. He only grants top members of the Vatican access to his private quarters."

I attempted to hold back my laughter. "So, this is a private religious school ran by the Vatican no-less, and we have trashy kink splashed all over the walls. I gotta say, I'm intrigued."

"The master has a dark sense of humour."

"Understatement of the century."

"This is the master's office," The butler ushered me quickly into a large room. "Please, take a seat. He is running a bit late from a previous meeting."

I turned back toward Belial, but he's long gone. I'm all alone in an empty room.

The office is quite different from the hall and decorated in deep mahogany wood, decidedly masculine. The desk is large and ominous; that is, it would have been if it weren't for the strange little collection of toys and knick-knacks carefully arranged next to the computer. I picked up a pink porcelain rabbit in the palm of my hand and raised an amused eyebrow.

"I'd ask that you do not touch the things on my desk."

Crap!

I hastily placed the toy back on the wooden tabletop and jumped to my feet. A tall, impossibly slender man strolled confidently into the room to greet me. He wore a crisp white suit and a long heavy cape. I shook his purple-gloved hand firmly. As I stared up into his face, I furrowed my brows in confusion.

What the actual fuck?

"Please, take a seat, Ms. Evelynn Smith." He bit his lip and snickered. "Or do you prefer...Eve..."

"Uh...Eve's fine." I replied with hesitation as I slowly eased into the yellow and blue jacquard chair.

I should look away, but I can't. Mr. Faust's hair is an impossible shade of violet purple with platinum highlights that shimmer just at the crown, he has pointed ears, and his teeth are small sharp fangs. He's dressed up like he just got back from Comicon.

Also, what's with that curly plume at the top of his head? Is it some sort of fascinator? Is it a feathered hair ornament? I don't get it.

"Okay, Eve, spill it. What's on your mind?" He rested his chin on his gloved hand and smiled knowingly. "Do I have horns growing out of my head or something?"

"It's just....uh...a great costume." I stammered. " Those ears look so real."

He seemed taken aback for a brief second. "Oh, yes! I'm an Otaku. I've had quite a few physical modifications, and it will all make sense in time."

I nodded slowly. What the hell does that even mean?

"Getting back to your resume...Eve." He finally pulled out my paperwork from a nearby folder. "So, you possess a minor in classics, a minor in philosophy and a master's degree in contemporary art. How intriguing."

"Pardon?"

"This job is for an assistant to the Vatican. Your degree is all about a personal quest for knowledge, not exactly chock-full of practical skills." He crossed his long legs and leaned back in his chair. "Your parents must have been completely disappointed, wasting all of that money. An arts degree instead of a doctor? If there was a wizard school, would you have signed up for that?"

"I paid for my education through scholarships."

He smiled smugly and read a few more pages. "So contemporary art, hmmm? Tell me how you make your artwork. What's the methodology behind it?"

"Well...I tend to work under the idea that the world is in a state of flux. Time isn't static, and we live in a non-linear narrative. I open my mind to thoughts of the impossible, the idea that they might indeed be probable under different subjective conditions. I try to allow play, chance, and chaos into the things that I build. Often by allowing more variables into a composition, we can get closer to the truth of our existence and find a deeper meaning."

He tapped his fingers thoughtfully on his desktop.

"I will be candid with you, Eve. I saw some of your work in a gallery in Northern Cross a few months ago. I greatly enjoyed it. You have a very open mind, which is the biggest necessity for this particular position."

"I just noticed your art collection." I countered. "It's not every day that one walks into a room of wall to wall vintage Cicconlina."

"You know your porn stars, I see?" He laughed with a merry twinkle.

"I know my art history."

"Oh...." He razzed. "Distinction made!"

"Director Faust, about this job....."

"Please. Call me, Mephisto." He gushed. "Faust is an old legal family name."

"Mephisto? Really?" I stare at him in confusion. "Your last name is Faust, and you call yourself Mephisto? Am I...?" I stammered. "... Am I walking into Dante's Inferno here?"

"You dare mock my name." He challenged. "Yet, your parents named you after Eve. The woman who was the downfall of man."

Who the hell does he think he is; Literally, devil's advocate?

"Eve decided that knowledge was more important than a paradise of ignorance. I firmly believe that a woman needs to know what she's getting herself into, Mephisto."

"I wholeheartedly agree." His large green eyes narrowed. Mephisto's attention now seemed quite dangerous, almost transfixed to my face. "Knowledge is so critical. It's the most important thing to you. Isn't it?"

"I would say so," I answer slowly. "Without knowledge, life is a waste."

"Eve, do you believe in the paranormal?" He changed the subject abruptly.

"I honestly haven't got the answer to that question."

"Oh, I think you do." He pressed. "You can see quite a few unexplainable things. Am I correct?"

How did he know?

It was like he could see right through me. I've seen weird shit my entire life, but you just don't talk about that sort of awkward nonsense. People would think I was crazy. My experiences had been terrifying, and I suffered alone in silence.

"Eve, what if I told you this job would answer all of your deepest questions? Questions that you cannot answer through traditional science and reason."

"I'd say you were full of shit."

"So says the artist!"

"Touche."

"Getting back to the idea of wizard school, I wasn't ribbing you entirely for fun. This academy is a training facility for exorcists. We use very non-traditional methods for ridding the world of darkness. If you choose to take this job, you will need to suspend your current notions of reality for a modified one."

"You mean I will believe in ghosts, goblins and demonic possession?"

"That's a fundamental understanding, yes. This job will explain the workings of the universe to you. Give you access to the vast knowledge that no other humans are privy to. There is one caveat; however, once you sign a very aggressive contract. You cannot tell anyone about the true nature of our work. Not family or friends, the Vatican takes security extremely seriously."

I started to get cold feet; this is a lot to consider. Am I cut out for the responsibility? This entire meeting was getting stranger by the minute.  The job sounded downright ludicrous; the premise piqued my interest, but how could I believe in such nonsense? Plus, the more time I spent with Mephisto, the less human he appeared. Did his pupils just dilate like a cat!?

"You know what's funny?" He stated coyly, his fingers toying with an ornament on his desk. "You voyage into my office and instantly take note of my strange appearance. Most people don't possess the ability to see me for what I truly am. I tell you my legal name is Faust, and my current name is Mephisto. I have artwork depicting demons throughout my lavish abode. Eve, you're intelligent enough to connect all of these dots, and your mind has already solved the puzzle. Yet, your human conditioning tells you to disbelieve the apparent truth sitting directly in front of you."

"The truth?" I stammered.

"I'm a demon, my dear."

I take in his admission with a shocked and irritated face. This guy is a bonafide nutjob.

"I think I've heard just about enough of this Mephisto; this degree of wackiness is far beyond me. I think I'm the wrong person for this position." I stood and prepared to take my leave; only I can't. I'm unable to move a muscle. What the hell is happening? My eyes grow wide with panic.

Mephisto slowly removes his gloves and rests his chin on a black-clawed hand.

"I see. I'll have to prove it to you then. Fair enough, let's give you a little taste, shall we?"

He snapped his fingers, and I'm suddenly surrounded by a hoard of disgusting gremlins, clawing at my ankles with oozing toothy gullets. I saw the same terrifying creatures as a child, invading my daydreams, hiding in the dark shadows when I was alone. I'm so frightened; I can hear the sound of my heartbeat pounding in my ears. It was my worst nightmare brought back to life, these creatures as real and substantial as the floor under my feet. As the horror of the reality became almost too much to bear, suddenly, he was there. Mephisto expelled the creatures one by one into poofs of purple smoke with a simple flick of a finger. I fall back, no longer able to stand, and he catches me quickly. I'm still shaking from the shock as he carefully sits me back into my chair.

"Those creatures have followed you your entire life. As you have gotten older, you've noticed them less, but they were still slowly feeding off your energy. They are quite volatile." He sat demurely on the edge of his desk, swinging his legs playfully. "They won't bother you now though, I've exorcized them from your presence. You see, this is what we do here. We help humans battle the unsavoury monsters from Gehenna."

I sit dumbfounded, rendered speechless with bewilderment. Mephisto continues with our one-sided conversation, unconcerned like this was completely normal. "...The pay for this position is quite handsome for an artist. It's also part-time, which will allow you to continue to work in your studio. You will report here five days a week, from 9 am-2 pm. You will receive correspondence from the Vatican, and you will keep me informed of all inbound information. You will also book and coordinate exorcists for special ops and daily assignments. My butler Belial will train you appropriately."

"Mephisto...I'm..."

"Terrified and disconcerted?" He grinned. "Happens every time I make a new hire."

"I don't think I can't handle all of this."

"Do you think I pick my employees out of thin air? You wouldn't be here if I didn't find you entirely capable. I've researched you extensively. You long for knowledge, and I will provide all of the deepest desires in your quest. All you simply need to do now is agree." He presented me with a contract.

"I don't know," I whispered nervously. "Can I think it over?"

"I haven't the time." He responded with a hint of a smile. "I am a very busy person, you see.  It's now or never, my dear."

My rational mind screams for me to jump out of that chair and run from the building. Yet, my desires kept me staring in a trance at the contract. Mephisto presented me with an old-fashioned quill pen. I grasped it with my shaking hand and stared at the bottom line.

"Oh...we need some ink to seal the deal. How silly of me to forget something so important." He took out a silver hatpin from a glass decanter and poked the end of his finger. A river of blood ran along his impossibly pale skin and dripped from the end of his glistening black claw. As it flowed freely into a bronze dish on his desk, I stared in dismay. I can't believe what I'm seeing! Mephisto then gently took my hand and poked the end of my finger. A tiny drop of my blood intermixes with his.

"What the fuck," I whispered hoarsely. "No...I'm not signing this. No way!"

"You will sign." His eyes bore into mine, and I'm once again drawn physically to the contract. I dipped the quill as if hypnotized and slowly write my name.

"Excellent!" He seemed pleased with himself. Meanwhile, I'm totally in a daze and fall back into my chair, suffering from strange exhaustion. Did I just sign a contract in blood?

I stood shakily, preparing to leave.

"Eve, I will see you back here tomorrow morning, bright and early." Mephisto rambled on with a sing-song voice. "Here is some research about me. It will teach you the basics of demons and how to work with them."

Belial is now instantly at the office door, he handed me a stack of books, and I find myself escorted from the building.

I jumped into my car and locked the doors. As I put the car into drive, the transmission lurches forward. The books flutter open on the car seat; the top hardcover was a book about Ancient Demon Classification, followed by a copy of Faust and  Dr. Seus, Green Eggs and Ham.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

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Here’s the link to the rest. ;)

https://www.wattpad.com/711456559-the-interview-a-blue-exorcist-fanfic-the-interview

[ratsoh-writes]

Matchups you say hmmmmm??? Also omg I wasn’t gonna send one in but I kept seeing all the ones you did and they were so cute so I just had to join in;) thank you for doing these!! Also if you have a lot, feel free to ignore this one<3

Main personality traits: I use she/her pronouns, I’m bisexual, and Idk if this is helpful but from quiz results (that were done just for fun lol) I’m a kindness soul. I’m pretty socially awkward, but I try my best to make an effort when I talk to people. I’m very talkative once I get comfortable with someone and I love to joke around and be silly with the people close to me. I love the feeling when you’re joking with someone and you both get so giddy with laughter (it’s one of my fav feelings). I do tend to get drained socially and need alone time every once and awhile. I make an effort, no matter what kind of day I’m having, to be nice to people because you don’t know what they’re going through. I have been told I have rbf (resting bitch face) and not a lot of people tend to approach me because of it and I’m constantly being asked if I’m okay or if I’m mad when around other people, but most of the time, I’m just chilling. I think it’s a mix of social awkwardness and the rbf but who knows? Food is definitely the way to my heart, I love eating good food with good company I just get so warm and fuzzy when cooking/eating with loved ones;) I’d say my love language is probably quality time, and food (is that one of the love languages?? If not it should).

Strengths: Having dealt with a lot of judgment myself, I don’t tend to be a judgmental person. I’m a good listener, I’m good at reaffirming and hyping up those close to me when they need it, and I’m good at seeing if someone is uncomfortable in situations and acting accordingly, such as getting them out, changing the subject, speaking up, etc.

Weaknesses: I’m a sh*t communicator when it comes to my own feelings, especially when they’re negative, and I find it really hard to put them into words and because of this I tend to bottle a lot of things up. When I snap, it’s not usually anger it’s mostly just, exhaustion, tears, or a total shut down because of the bottling and while I’m working to get better, it’s still a bad habit I have. I also tend to procrastinate, I have a hard time with big social gatherings, I can be forgetful, I can be pretty stubborn, and I get very insecure (about my feelings and my appearance/body) and tend to beat myself up over a lot of things.

Pet peeves/odd habits: I have sensory issues so I cannot stand flashing lights, sudden loud/shrill noises, loud chewing/mouth noises, itchy fabrics (those are the main triggers). I hate angry yelling, laugh tracks in shows, vomit and when its used as comedy in the media, and the dark. I also really hate alcohol and drugs, I don’t care if others are having fun with it, you do you and I’m not gonna judge you for it, but personally it’s a trigger and I don’t like being around it or people while they’re under the effects of it. As for odd habits, I never have the comforter on the bed because it gets too hot and I sleep with only one or two thinner blankets, I hate having doors and windows open, and burning candles makes me nervous and I’ll never let them burn for more then ten minutes.

Hobbies: I love to draw, play/listen to music, paint nails/do nail art, play video games, go on walks (not runs I am deeply out of shape), go to cool shops/places, and as mentioned before cook/eat with loved ones.

No no’s in a relationship: not respecting my boundaries, pressuring me to do things I’ve said I don’t want to (not like going to events or stuff because getting out of your comfort zone is important sometimes, but with more serious things), constantly interrupting me without noticing or caring, being judgmental, and jumping to conclusions without having a conversation with me.

I hope that wasn’t too much! Thank you for doing these!! I hope you’re doing okay and are hopefully having a good day/night;)

hmmm there's quite a few boys who fit you pretty well. Let’s take a walk on the wild side and go with CASH (swapfell papyrus)!

First of all, the two biggest points are: your humor and aversion to drink and drug. The sense of humor is pretty self explanatory. Cash just wants someone he can joke around with. It doesn't necessarily mean elaborate pranks all the time, just teasing and giggling together is great too. For the drinking, cash is an ex alcoholic and drug addict. He’s been sober for a few years now, but obviously needs someone who wont be a temptation to him. 

Cash is one of those guys who’s very social and needs a lot of stimulation to be happy. He’s an independent adult and wont get mad if you need a day to yourself on occasion. He might be all whiny though since he’s a dramatic b*stard lol. 

Cash takes people as they are and won’t expect anyone to change for him. Unfortunately both of you are crap at talking about your own feelings. It’s just something you both will have to learn together. 

dating cash includes:

so you like nail art? He’s always down to be your test dummy. If you ever did cash’s claws, he’ll wear the art with pride

just a warning, cash is ridiculously easy to hype up. He just loved being excited and goofy! If you’re in a playful mood, it’ll only take like .2 seconds to get hi right up there with you lol

cash is picky when it comes to the food at his own home, but going out he has a rule that you should try everything at least once. Even the really sketch stuff. No regrets in this house

if  you’re wondering, the second best was bruiser

[cajunroe]

sledgefu + paranormal!au ft. ghost hunter!sledge + demon!snafu ↳ever since they met, gene’s noticed little things about snafu that give him pause and make him wonder about the man’s past. but he doesn’t want to lose the friendship and companion he’s gained. not to mention the fact that snafu was the only person who showed genuine interest in gene’s dream of ghost hunting. the occult had always interested him but everyone else in his life thought he was crazy for trying to pursue the goal of finding proof of the paranormal. and as they reach two years of ghost hunting, gene thinks they might be right because every time something has happened, snafu had been at the ready with a logical (mostly) explanation. then, on what’s supposed to be a normal investigation, gene finds out the paranormal is all to real and all too close by.

read below or on ao3

Gene always thought there was something odd about the ease in which Snafu handled terrifying situations.

When they were stuck in a house supposedly haunted by a murderer, Snafu did nothing but laugh every time Gene jumped when he swore something tried to grab him.

When investigating an abandoned asylum with tons of recorded activity, and Gene was certain he heard someone whisper his name, Snafu just claimed it was an open window and continued walking like Gene’s heart hadn’t nearly exploded in fear.

And now, in the middle of what was a routine investigation, where a chair has clearly flown across the room after Gene asked for a sign of a presence, Snafu’s only reaction is:

“Gravity is a strange thing, Sledge.”

Gene’s on the ground staring at the broken chair, mouth open, and heart-pounding.

He looks up, and as Snafu shrugs, Gene loses it.

“What in the goddamn hell is your damage, Snafu? That chair nearly took off my damn head and I know you didn’t throw it at me! Could you cut the skeptic shit for one second and just help me figure it out?”

He knows it’s harsh, but he can’t stop freaking out long enough to care.

They’d been doing this for two years and Snafu’s calm indifference had slowly been driving him crazy, not to mention the fact that it’s the reason Gene’s slowly fallen in love with the man.

 He wipes his eyes harshly and when he opens them, Snafu’s in front of him, holding onto his arms.

“It’s alright, Sledge,” Snafu states, concern evident in the way he says Gene’s name.

“No, it ain’t Snafu! Whatever is here just tried to kill me! I won’t even be right again.”

Snafu stood abruptly then and when Gene looked up, he swore Snafu’s eyes were as pitch black as the night outside.

“You’re right about one thing there, Gene,” Snafu replied with cold intensity, the cadence in his voice making is deeper, darker, and making Gene’s hair stand on end, “Whatever is here did just try to kill you.”

Gene’s certain his heart will stop because there’s no way it can handle the major fluctuations it's experiencing tonight.

There’s no way Snafu just admitted to something paranormal, supernatural happening.

They’d been doing ghost hunting for long enough for Gene to be 100% certain about one thing: Snafu didn’t believe in ghosts, demons, or anything paranormal. As a die hard skeptic, Gene was always curious why Snafu had been so ready to join Gene on his mission to find proof of the paranormal. Even when they met at an occult bookstore, Gene wondered why the man had stopped to ask him what he was reading. He thought he was trying to pick Gene up, but when Snafu made no move, Gene launched into what he was looking for. Snafu had listened to him for hours, the day they met, and they’d been friends ever since. Still, despite being so close, Gene always felt like Snafu was reticent like he was hiding something. When he thought too hard about, late at night in another dingy motel room, Snafu asleep in the bed beside him, he chalked it up to his natural speculative nature and would eventually fall asleep.

Now, though…now he’s wishing he’d looked deeper.

Snafu is circling the room, feeling different spots of the wall like he’s searching for something.

“Snaf, what’s going on?” He wishes his voice were steadier, but the fear suddenly gripping him tight won’t allow it.

“Gene, you have always been honest with me. Seems only fair I’m honest with you.”

Gene swallowed heavily, his instincts telling him to run, but his curiosity forced him to stay.

“I ain’t who you think I am.” He declared as though the statement managed to be Gene at ease in any way.

“For once in your life, Snafu, make some fucking sense. Please.”

He watches a fond smile form on the brunette’s lips and despite being scared shitless, Gene’s still in love with him.

“My name’s not really, Snafu.”

“No shit sherlock.” Gene snaps, he always got ornery whenever Snafu was intentionally invasive.

And Snafu, he just laughs and keeps searching the room.

He stops suddenly, crouching in the middle of the room, hand running along the floor.

Snafu looks up quickly, smile bright, but feral as he lays his hand firmly on the ground.

But Gene can’t recognize anything beyond the fathomless pools of black that encompass Snafu’s eyes.

“My real name is Seire, Eugene. I’m a demon.” Then Snafu’s hand disappears into the floor and when it reemerges and Snafu stands, he’s gripping a creature. Half it’s head is missing and its skeleton is covered in the thinnest, greyest skin Gene’s ever seen. He can’t breathe, can’t look away and when it snarls and reaches its razor-sharp claws towards Gene, he doesn’t even flinch.

Snafu holds it in his grip, with ease, by the throat as it tries to scream but fails.

“This looks like one of, hmmm,” Snafu turns his head to the side taken in the creature as though deep in thought, “one of Raum’s little leeches, huh?”

The creature gets one ear-piercing shriek out before Snafu tightens his grip again.

“Guess the rumors about him trying to move up were true. Thought he’d have enough gall to face me himself.”

The creature tries to speak and Snafu lightens his grip just enough for it to speak.

“Not you.”

Gene both hears it and doesn’t hear it, like a whisper passing by him.

Snafu’s eyes shift from Gene and back to the creature in sudden understanding.

They weren’t after Snafu, they were after Gene.

“Little pet. Weakness.”

Snafu’s face turned serious, severe and he tightened his grip again and Gene watched as the man he loved held demon spawn in his grip like it was nothing. He’d never been more attracted to Snafu since they met.

“You’re wrong.” Snafu replies, a torrent of barely controlled anger held in tense shoulders.

He pulled the spawn closer to him, watching as the creature snarled and tried to escape Snafu’s grip.

He looks to Gene with a soft smile then looks back at the creature.

“Love is strength.”

Gene’s heart skips a beat and Snafu must be able to hear it because he laughs like he always did where Gene was concerned.

“I have a message for Raum when you get back down there.”

Gene hears another whisper that sounded have of a snake’s hiss and a surprised “What?”

Then the creature bursts into flame and without a sound, it’s gone, and Gene is left alone with Snafu. His best friend. The one he loves. A demon.

For the first time in his life, he’s the one in doubt, the one questioning what’s real or not, what he saw with what he knows.

He doesn’t know why, but the first thing he needs an answer to is…

“So, you love me?” He asks, still trying not to lose his mind.

He hears another laugh, this one breathy as though the demon was nervous.

“You find out I’m a demon, Prince of Hell, as a matter of fact, and your first question is whether or not I love you?”

Gene presses if only ease his mind of this one thing.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Snafu sighs and its wistful nature makes Gene look up and stare.

“Hard not to, Gene. All my time in existence and I’ve never wanted something as much as I want you.”

Snafu replies gently, like someone who’s seen too much but is still in wonder with the world.

He sits down on the splintered, dusty floor in front of Gene who was still attached to the corner he was in.

Gene takes a deep, shaky breath, shocked more at his acceptance and handling of the last half hour than over the fact that the man he loved for two years loves him back and at the fact that the man who loves him isn’t entirely a man, but a demon.

Still.

“A lot of things about you make a lot of sense now.”

“Like what?” Snafu asks, voice lilting at the end in genuine curiosity.

Gene smiles at that.

“Your indifference to all of this,” Gene gestures around the abandoned house, “the way you talk sometimes like you’re adopting speech from another time, your overt politeness.”

“That’s just a southern thing, Sledge, not an immortal thing.”

Despite his better judgment, Gene laughs as he grabs Snafu’s hand surprise to find it can be just as gentle as it is deadly. The heat of the touch warms Gene from head to toe.

“I don’t know if I like your real name so much, though.” He states with a grimace ad smiles when Snafu rolls his eyes.

“Neither did I, at least not up here. Snafu was the first nickname anyone ever called me up here and it just stuck.”

Gene links their fingers, mind racing and following eight thoughts at once, the greatest of these being –

“Hell of a nickname.”

Gene’s eyes widened when he realizes what he said, but Snafu just looks at him with intense adoration and fondness.

It's easy then, to shut off his brain, and follow his heart.

He crawls the little space between them on his hand and knees, then watches as Snafu just waits for Gene to commit. It heady and the way Gene’s heart is racing is making him dizzy with lust and power. He lifts Snafu’s chin an inch higher and locks their lips together harshly. It’s an aggressive and powerful first kiss with biting teeth and hot breaths, and Gene feels like not even the fires of hell could be so hot.

He breaks apart with a gasp, reality crashing in at the worst time, but not keeping from holding a breathless Snafu close.

“Are there gonna be more of those things?” He asks, breathless himself, but demanding.

Snafu looks ashamed for the first time in all the time Gene’s known him.

“Yes and it's my fault, Gene. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t stay away from you and you wouldn’t leave no matter how hard I tried to get you to because I couldn’t.”

It all clicks and Gene pushes Snafu so hard he falls back onto the floor.

“You asshole! All the hauntings? That was you?!”

Snafu looks guilty but still satisfied, and how Gene never saw the bit of the devil in Snafu, hell never know. Love truly must be blind.

“Tricks of the family trade,” Snafu shrugs, humble and shy. Gene has to take a moment to let that sink in. A demon, shy and humble at their supernatural abilities.

“But yeah, it was me Gene and you’re so damn persistent and brave that you just kept coming back for more. You’re a reckless idiot and I fell in love with that.”

Gene laughs despite himself, disbelieving but full of so much happiness, lust, and lingering fear, that he could hardly believe this was his life.

“Guess I’m gonna have to add exorcist to my resume.”

Snafu stares for a long moment before bursting into laughter. Gene joins him after a moment and he’s never felt lighter.

Despite it all, the love that Gene feels for Snafu is sacred.

And while Snafu may have more oddities than most, his love for Gene is the most natural thing in the world.

They would make it work, make it last, even if it meant going through hell itself.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #370

“breakdowns, obscenities, it’s all i wanna be”

Do you have any bad habits you aren’t working on changing? If so, do you ever think you’ll try to break them? Downloading music, for one. I really should just start using Spotify... but my iPod has over 1k songs on it and I just seriously don't want to got through all the trouble. When was the last time someone surprised you with their reaction or behaviors? Hm. I dunno. What kinds of videos do you like to watch on YouTube, if any? I watch SO many different kinds. It used to be pretty strictly let's plays, but I've definitely expanded my watching interests. Now I'm really into watching educational reptile and tarantula husbandry and keeping channels, I watch one woman who is like my weight loss idol (Jordan Shrinks, she is amazing), there's a few vloggers, I enjoy some World of Warcraft channels, and then there's a couple urban exploration guys I like. I also occasionally watch some beauty YouTubers just for their personalities and the art of it. Have you ever reached out to a crisis center for mental health support? If so, how was the experience? Yes, but they were so busy that I didn't connect with anyone before I finally gave up and ODed. When was the last time you did something you were afraid to do, and how was the outcome? Ummmm I don't really know. What is one positive thing you believe about yourself? I care a lot about other people. What is something you have been through that has made you stronger? The breakup. It brought me to the lowest of lows, where every day was a struggle to survive. It taught me I can endure through almost anything, even if it doesn't feel like I can. Other than money, what is something you wish you had more of in your life? Happiness, contentment, being in love, motivation, energy, activities, travel... There's genuinely a lot. IIs there anything that you tend to ignore for the sake of your sanity? I'm very bad at ignoring things. If something is bothering me, it's going to put up a beastly fight to be at the forefront of my mind. What is something you wish was different about your family? I wish we were closer and better off monetarily. What keeps you going lately? The hope for a happy, satisfactory future. Have you ever been in an unconventional relationship (long distance, polyamorous, same gender, age gap, etc)? if so, what challenges did this relationship present, and were they worth overcoming? I've been in a long-distance relationship with another girl. I think the hardest part was that there was not being able to physically be there for each other when one of us was really struggling, and sometimes communication was an issue, not being able to read body language when we voice chatted or hear the tone in which we "spoke" when texting, though I'm pretty sure that's an issue with any online relations. I also feel it's difficult to really build and experience your chemistry with one another when you're not physically with the other person. I still think all these challenges were worth overcoming, though. I in no way regret the relationship and got only good things out of it. What is the most unhealthy relationship (whether friendship or romantic) you’ve ever had? What made it so unhealthy? Do you still talk to each other? I'm kinda torn between Jason and Colleen, but I think my bond with Jason was ultimately more unhealthy because it went beyond love: he was an obsession. Having him with me was the only thing that brought me joy, and I lit-er-a-lly could not imagine my future without him. Like that concept just didn't exist; it was entirely impossible in my head. On his end, he failed to communicate what he was going through emotionally, which only contributed to the damage. I never knew he was struggling because of me. Without realizing it, I put so much pressure on him to make me happy, so to answer the last question, no, we don't, by his decision - and I don't blame him. Have you ever been abusive in any way? Were you able to change or make amends, or, in general, what do you think people should do to make amends in that situation? A neverending battle I have with myself is if how I treated Jason after the breakup was qualifiable as emotional abuse, specifically with messaging him things like "thanks for sending me to the ER" and shit. My therapist reassures me that it wasn't abusive because I wasn't being deliberately manipulative, but rather genuinely hurt and convinced I had been wronged and wanted him to know and acknowledge it. She agrees that it was wrong, which I entirely agree with, but sometimes, I'm still convinced I was abusive. I fucking hate answering this question, so hurrying up: I don't know if he's forgiven me. As for how others could reconcile, that's not for me to say. I know sometimes the answer is to NOT make amends and completely stay away from their abuser. It's not my right to tell others how to cope with their abuse. Have you ever forgiven someone for being abusive or allowed someone toxic back into your life? Did this person change for the better or not? My former best friend Colleen was toxic as all fuck hell, and I let her back in way too many times. No, she never changed. I honesty doubt she ever will, given her pride. When was the last time you did something “meant” for children? Do you think it’s okay for adults to do these things (ie. watch cartoons, have stuffed animals, dress in cute clothing, etc), or do you think there’s an age beyond which it becomes unacceptable - and if so, why? Hmmm... I know this was semi-recent, but whatever it was is evading me at the moment. I personally have zero issue with adults engaging in activities like that; let people do what they enjoy if they're not harming anyone, especially things as innocent as dressing how they think is cute, etc. I would far rather people "act like children" (not emotionally, you know what I mean) than run around the streets selling drugs and shit. What was the last thing to “trigger” you (as in, in a true mental health sense, I’m being serious here) and how did you cope with it? What kinds of things do you tend to find triggering? What do you do either avoid or face your triggers? When I was riding to the sleep study section of the health plaza, where the hospital is, my anxiety spiked quite a bit, recalling all of my ER stays for being suicidal. It didn't help that the psych hospital I visited most is also in that whole jumble of buildings. I dealt with it by reminding myself I was in that area for a very different reason, and Mom reassured me that where I would be staying was more like a small hotel room than a hospital bed, which was true, so that helped. Regarding the next question, I'm not gonna lie to ya, I have a stupid amount of PTSD triggers: certain music, shows, fandoms, places, smells, even tastes of certain foods. I tend to stay away from my major triggers, but I'll *sometimes* fight the tiny ones, because I want that sense of ownership of myself back. If you’re diagnosed with anything, do you feel that it accurately represents what you’re experiencing? Yes. What are some minor physical discomforts that really bug you (eyelash in your eye, a wedgie, rumpled socks, etc)? I'm VERY sensitive to feeling anything in my nose, and it leads to me needing to blow it a lot. I also can't stand having holes in my socks, but since I wear flip flops essentially everywhere, I don't experience this much. Are you ever afraid to admit to liking something because you’re afraid other people will judge you for it? What is the worst that’s ever happened as a result of you liking something different from the crowd? What about the best thing that’s come as a result of a unique interest? Y E P!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Nothing really bad has happened because of admitting my interests, other than hearing things along the lines of "I don't get it." It's very odd, just how horribly receptive I am to judgment about things I like when I don't recall a time where I was ridiculed for anything. But anyway, the best thing to happen from sharing interests for me is making a new friend that likes the same thing, and I will IMMEDIATELY be closer to you than most people I associate with once you've helped me past that vulnerable spot of mine. Have you ever remained good friends with an ex? Yeah. Do you have a negative view of mentally ill people, or are you mentally ill yourself? Do you ever call others crazy, insane, etc? Do you ever call yourself those things? I'm mentally ill and empathize heavily with those who suffer themselves. I absolutely do not have a negative look on mental health sufferers; we don't choose to be victims. I'm definitely not a big fan of abusing terms like "insane," because I've fucking been there, and it's not a term to take lightly. I've thrown 'em around before, but I try to avoid it. I don't call myself any of those things nowadays, but in the deepest trench of my depression and PTSD, I honest to God think I fit the definition of "insane." Does it bother you to have people comment on what you’re eating, or do you not care? What are some comments that would bother you, if any? Do you ever comment on what other people are eating or make assumptions about their intakes? YES. JUST DON'T FUCKING COMMENT. I get EXTREMELY self-conscious when my mom does this sometimes when I occasionally need a small snack to hold me out overnight, and I absolutely never will say something to someone else. It's just rude, imo. Well, I guess if someone was really destroying their health and I was close to them, I would out of concern and be very gentle, but when regarding most people? I'm keeping my thoughts to my damn self. Do you like Redbull? I've never tried it and don't want to. I'm not an energy drink fan. Who is the last person you spent money on? My mom. I remember I bought us fast food when we were out once. What are you looking forward to in the next 4 days? G U Y S!!!!!!!!! I GET MY TATTOO TOMORROW!!!!!!!!!!! :'''') Also on the same day, I start my TMS therapy, which I have high hopes for. Have you ever gone a whole day without eating? No. Do you sometimes use your music player to help you fall asleep? No, but I did that for years back in middle school. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you shave your legs more than once a week? Haaaaaaaaa. If you could cuddle with anyone right now, who would you pick? I really wish I could cuddle my late pup Teddy again. :/ I was thinking about that recently. Are you tanned? God no. I never am. Do you try to wear dresses whenever you can? No. I wish I was in a shape where I was comfortable wearing spring dresses again... I had this floral skull one in high school that I adored. Are you wearing something that belongs to someone else? No. Have you ever been called a bitch? Yes. Did you like the person you last kissed when you kissed them? I loved her. Who did you have a meaningful conversation with last? Sara. Do you have feelings for someone? Yeah, but they're like... on a leash, you could say. I don't let 'em run free and wild, and I know that even if nothing comes of those feelings again, it's fine. Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? I think Jason will be this answer for a very long time, if not forever, given the trauma and all. I have to remind myself frequently that I love his memory, not him, because I don't even know him anymore. It's been YEARS since we spoke. Just like I've changed incredibly, I'm sure he has, too. If you saw life in black & white, would that be okay with you? I mean, it would suck, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. When you wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep, what kinds of things are you likely to do? How often do you find you have trouble sleeping? I do exactly what you shouldn't do and get back on the laptop. I'd say I most often get on WoW and refresh the auctions I have up because that tends to tire me out because I do that shit manually to avoid any addon mishaps, and I have a looooot to put up as a gold farmer. What was the last lengthy packet you filled out? Something to see if I qualified for a sleep study. Are you a patient person? What is one way you have a lot of patience? What about not very much patience at all? I am NOT patient, at least regarding more trivial things, like sitting in waiting rooms. I do have patience though with other people with more serious things, like getting someone to open up to me. At what time during the day do you tend to feel your best? What about the worst? When I first wake up. It's a "fresh start" and it's nice to feel rested. Plus, I open a fresh can of cold soda as my "coffee" for lack of better word, haha. I'm in my worst mood probably late afternoon/early evening, by which time I am incredibly bored and just dulled down. What was the last thing you did that you wish you could take back or do differently? The last thing... I dunno. How frequently do you stay overnight somewhere that isn’t your own home? What things do you miss about home when you’re away? Do you tend to get homesick easily? Pretty much never. I do miss my room and its privacy when I'm away from home, but I wouldn't say I get homesick all that easily, so long as I have WiFi, haha. Do you tend to eat more in the beginning of the day or at night? Do you have a tendency to snack when you’re bored? If so, what kinds of snacks do you normally go for? Not necessarily the beginning of the day, but definitely more than at night. I am BAD about snacking when I'm extremely bored, but at the very least I'm conscious enough to try and find something semi-healthy, like granola bars, fruits, a scoop of peanut butter, but I also sometimes just eat like... a slice of bread or a tortilla. Horrible choice. I'm a carb fiend and I hate it. If you have any dietary restrictions, do you ever miss foods you can’t have? If not, what’s something you haven’t had for a long time that you wish you could eat again? I thankfully don't have any. I've been craving cheesecake like a madman lately. :< The spicy shrimp fritas from Olive Garden, too. Is there something you still can’t do even though you’re an adult or might be expected to do this thing? I don't have my license, and my driver's permit is even expired. I'm terrified of driving. I also don't have a job, and I can't cook. When was the last time you congratulated someone? Were you happy for them, indifferent, jealous? Uhhh I think someone on Facebook had a baby. Of course I was happy for them. What was the last milestone you reached in your life (graduating, buying a car, starting a family, etc)? What milestone are you going for next, if any? Um... I haven't reached a true milestone in years. Hell, I don't think since I started recovery from the breakup. Do you enjoy getting comments or messages? How likely are you to leave comments or messages for other people? Yeah, it makes me feel cared about. It really depends on the platform on how much I leave other people comments, and I'm extremely shy about messaging, but I'll do it sometimes. When are you most likely to scream (either out of fright, anger, or whatever)? Do you scream or yell often? When was the last time someone screamed at you (or in your presence)? Frustration, for sure. I've screamed into a pillow more than once. I definitely don't yell or especially scream often. I'm sure the last person to yell at me was Mom, but I don't remember about what. What would you say is your STRONGEST emotion? Maybe not the most frequent, but the most intense? And what emotion do you feel most weakly, even if you might feel it more often? I'd saaaay... maybe love. When I love something/someone, I love HARD. I think I experience joy the weakest; it's very muted for me. And lastly, what are you listening to? Is this a band you listen to a lot "The Heretic Anthem" by Slipknot. I wouldn't say I listen to them a lot, but I have been more than usual lately.

[five-wow]

I WATCHED 10.22. HERE ARE SOME THOUGHTS UNDER THE CUT. i promise they won’t all be in full caps, but i feel i should also warn you that this was not proofread.

the episode is starting! it has started. the start has started.

lots of flashbacks from 10.21 with VERY dramatic music in the background and it’s very much working on me. EMOTIONS.

oh my gosh we’re now getting a flashback (a new one, not “previously on”) to wo fat and victor hesse planning some evil shit with daiyu mei serving them tea and it is EVEN MORE DRAMATIC than the previously on was. i am IMPRESSED. also maybe laughing a little bit, but in a way where i’m genuinely enjoying the extreme “LOOK, THIS IS BAD” of it, gosh.

fun way to remind us of how it all started, with these two planning anton’s extraction! they get to show us bits and pieces from the pilot while we still get something new.

wo fat: “blood. is blood.” hmmm, the show seems to want us to think he has a point but i’m mostly amused this is coming from the ultimate bad guy because yes, that seems about right. (hashtag you don’t owe people anything just because you’re related to them, shuddup.)

daiyu mei looks all shy and awkward when wo fat asks for her input but i’ve decided that’s an act to keep victor underestimating her.

steve and cole are in a car and fjdkfdjk wait catherine is a super code breaker now? idk, she may have displayed some skills that leaned that way in the past, but now she’s suddenly well-known as one of the best in that field even though that’s not even her field as far as we know? i. i don’t mind catherine getting brought up in conversation but this is such an odd way to do it.

“we were together for a buncha years” hahaha, fandom never really knows how to define the start and end of their relationship and it seems steve doesn’t, either.

“she was the one that got away. what’re you gonna do?” well, look sad and frowny while this guy you barely know throws you a somewhat awkward look because you’re suddenly baring your heart to him, apparently! (for real though, i get that people will be upset at this phrasing and i’m sort of thinking this is a lead in to things i won’t like at the end of the episode and that’s bad but for what it’s worth, i don’t mind this at all! she did slip away from him at a time where he thought they were going somewhere else and he’s talking in past tense now.)

cole is worried he ruined steve’s day by bringing up catherine and that’s sweet, actually! seals emotionally supporting seals.

OOF it is TIME for danny to get ABDUCTED. also: i love that steve immediately drops everything, including the very important super secret difficult to arrange meeting to maybe finally get some insight into this cipher that doris left him, to race to wherever danny is in his car. i feel like alerting hpd (or anyone else in five-0 who might be closer) would be a good idea, but it makes a lot of sense for steve to need to Be There himself.

ohhhhh steve continually nearly crashing his truck while yelling for danny but only hearing gunshots over the line is 👌👌👌. THE ANGST. THE TENSION. very good, very good.

the camaro is BURNING. well that’s one way to smack us in the face with the end of an era, damn.

steve is ALSO BURNING because he obviously tried to get inside the car ahhhh.

fjdkf steve calls tani with instruction about cameras and tani asks if everything is okay because he sounds upset and all he says is “danny’s been taken” and that’s how tani an junior find out, poor dears.

steve, instructing hpd: “we’re looking for detective danny williams. you know who he is, my partner, right? we’re looking for him.” YOU KNOW WHO HE IS. MY PARTNER.

steve is already out of breath from sheer stress and he’s just standing around the tech table with the team, my gosh. (I LOVE THIS.)

danny, bloody and chained up and facing his captor, a woman he already knows is very, very dangerous: [makes a joke about exchanging insurance information because they burned his car] (LOVE HIM TOO.)

OOF though, daiyu mei lets danny know she knows he has two kids and the jokes are over because that’s definitely the line with danny, god.

here’s the scene from the one preview clip i watched! i’m really enjoying daiyu mei, by the way. she’s still a totally bonkers way to bring the threat of wo fat back even after he’s dead, but she is genuinely threatening.

“i have the person you care about most in the world” hello yes i’m still yelling about that one and might not stop soon

daiyu mei telling steve not to make the same mistake he did with his father and “allow a loved one to die” is so mean but so good and narratively pretty darn cool.

we’re not even eleven minutes in and we’re already at “come alone, commander, or your friend dies”. [insert that escalated quickly meme]

steve thinks he has zero options except give in to exactly what daiyu mei wants and it’s very unsteve of him but also fits perfectly with the mindset they’ve maneouvred him into over the past few episodes and with DANNY BEING GONE so i like it. i like that steve is very obviously freaking the fuck out.

never though i would say this, but... steve, you should listen to adam. it’s shocking, especially this season, but he is making an actual good judgment.

steve alone in the elevator on the verge of either a panic attack or breaking down crying and curling up into a ball is A LOT.

steve goes to the meeting alone, gets a location and confirmation that danny is alive and then hands over the cipher, and that’s good but also... i mean, for real, if he had just printed some random symbols on a similar piece of paper (maybe even the same symbols but in a different order!) how on earth would daiyu mei have known?

OH. OHHHH. danny does the badass steve-ish thing where he pulls himself up by his shackles to somehow get himself free, holy fuck, yes man.

IT WORKS. knocked out the guard, got the keys, got a gun - damn son. not only do we get worried out of his mind steve, we ALSO get bamf danny, ahhhh.

AND THEN HE GETS SHOT IN THE SHOULDER, which is where all those promo pictures came from obviously, and also means we’re about to tick off the hurt part of h/c in an even bolder font than we already had.

fdjkfdjkfd steve’s litany of comforting little nonsense lines while he’s dragging danny to the car and getting him into it and NOT GETTING BEHIND THE WHEEL BUT STAYING WITH DANNY IN THE BACK is killing me slowly.

fdjkfd steve hugging danny’s bloody face in his lap oh my god

apparently that wasn’t GOOD ENOUGH YET because then they’re at the hospital and steve tells the doctor’s what’s up and they’re about to roll danny away and danny, half dead and according to steve in and out of consciousness, somehow finds the time to try to grAB AT STEVE’S ARM BLINDLY. steve: “hey, i’m with you buddy, it’s okay.” DEAD. NOT DANNY, ME. I AM VERY DEAD.

the entire team is stressed and worried and just dead quiet, watching danny and steve. ohhhh boy.

oh fuck oh fuck steve is praying and red-eyed and furious and telling god “you wanna take somebody? take me. not him, you take me.” and i have a very big massive weak spot for exactly this.

cole comes to find steve to offer to figure out the cipher thing and steve has a very hard time giving a single flying shit and then HANDS COLE HIS GUN. welllll. just letting go of stuff they never would have normally left and right, here. i was kind of expecting steve’s badge to follow.

tani has a lot of good worried moments and i love that.

danny is out of surgery!!! steve gets to see him!!!

oh GOD we get a sad version of all for one while steve is in danny’s hospital room and grabs danny’s hand and i am. oh. oh. not okay.

STILL ONLY JUST PAST THE HALFWAY POINT OF THE EPISODE.

it’s honestly kind of weird that cole has this much screentime (i know he was supposed to be back for the season 11 that will never happen, but with the way things turned out that’s not very relevant anymore in story), but i mind it less than i thought i would have. i like him, and i’m glad he has quinn with him now, because i always want more of her.

danny wakes up and his slightly loopy conversation with steve has me fjdkfdjkfd. d: [says you’re supposed to be happy when a patient wakes up] s, like he might still be about to cry: “i’m happy.” d: “yeah? yeah, me too.”

steve is hurting and blaming himself for everything (very in character) and danny tells him he’s already annoying and that if he had a dollar for every time steve saved his life he’d have like twenty bucks (also very in character) and i’m glad for that bit of comic relief and they need it, too, but somebody also needs to give steve a good shake until the thought that this is on him leaves his head. if anyone except daiyu mei is responsible here, it’s doris. blame doris, jfc.

danny, after nearly dying and only just waking up in the hospital, while he still has trouble speaking: “put [the call steve is getting] on speaker, would you, i’m bored.” more jokes! but it also makes me go fjdkfdjk because you will not convince me that this is not danny, extremely injured, still trying to take care of steve by distracting him from all the misery they’re in.

fjdkfd OKAY SO. plot stuff: the cipher translates to coordinates that apparently lead to the place where the mcgarretts thought doris was buried. steve says he knows the place because his dad used to take him there and ? because i always thought john sent his kids away pretty soon after doris died so he can’t have had much time to visit her grave a lot with them, but also just, the drama of it, wow, doris. send your son an encrypted message that sends him to your fake grave, why don’t you.

jfkdsjlfksljfds the mcgarretts have a family mausoleum now, apparently, omfg. and there was still a space with doris’s name on it? even though they’ve known for how many years by now that she was still alive oh my gosh

cole is along for the ride to doris’s fake grave and steve keeps dropping these little nuggets from his family history and cole keeps (rightfully!) looking a little confused and/or alarmed, poor guy, hahaha.

daiyu mei is running full tilt and doing some mad parcour shit in a suit and what looks like high heels and there is a whole action scene here with lots of players and constant shooting and some one-on-one fighting, but i am fully distracted by the shoewear.

oh, false alarm, probably! not quite high heels, just something ballarina like with a very tiny heel. that’s better.

fjdkfjdkfd OOF daiyu mei nearly kills steve, steve gets the upper hand, daiyu mei says some things and we’re given another flashback to wo fat and victor hesse and this time also john when he was held hostage, and suddenly we’re told he’s not surprised that doris had a secret son (wo fat) and that he suspected her death was staged.

OH MY GU==fdj

okay so those were typos but i’m LEAVING THEM because “whatever happens next, don’t tell my son. it would be too hard on him.” HELLO JOHN, FUCK YOU JOHN. he wanted??? to keep this secret??? from steve??? and also he doesn’t even acknowledge that he maybe has more than just a son. maybe there is a person called mary out there somewhere? might ring a bell, if you think about it long and hard.

wo fat: “you’re a good man, john mcgarrett.” i really don’t know if we’re supposed to agree with things wo fat says but he’s mostly voicing the opposite of what i feel this episode.

daiyu mei to steve: “you are your father.” oh gosh. oh no.

ahh, here’s a point where cole’s presence really starts to take away from other characters. he shows up to steve and daiyu mei’s confrontation to back steve up, and that obviously should have been any other character that we’ve known for way longer and have way more attachment to (junior! that would have been so good, or maybe lou, who’s also been here for seven years, or tani, who keeps worrying), especially, very very much especially when steve goes “book her, cole”. that’s just confusing, too. so far the cole and steve parallels have been thrown at us and now he’s suddenly in danny’s place.

32 minutes out of 42 and we’re at “one week later” and steve hopping through his garden to get to the beach chairs where danny is sitting. this is good but worrying for how early it comes.

danny says he misses the very nice nurse who brought him jello and steve tells him not to confuse a caregiver for someone who cares and danny goes “yeah? you know jealousy is not uh, pretty on you.” and then they’re both awkwardly quiet for a moment. dear lord.

AND THEN THINGS WENT PEARSHAPED. danny: “you all packed?” my heart is sinking fast. maybe i should just quit here and leave it at danny telling steve jealousy is not pretty on him (which implies other things are pretty on steve - let’s get back to that).

steve to danny, who is talking up hawaii (which is of course very good): “who are you?” i am having FLASHBACKS to junior asking tani that exact same thing just a few episodes ago.

danny seriously questions steve’s decision to just up and leave hawaii a bunch of times and yes, danny, good, grill him. this is a stupid plan.

danny: “you know, it don’t feel like it’s gonna be okay. it feels like- my main dude is leaving me.” HI STEVE. MAYBE DON’T. MAYBE DON’T GO. MAYBE DON’T HURT DANNY.

“you got a phone, right?” we’re seriously at that point. we are. seriously at that point. wow.

steve forces danny to get up to give him the frigging tenderest, dopily smiliest hug and it is so very sweet yet so very wrong.

“I LOVE YOU, MAN.” / “I LOVE YOU TOO.” THEY DID NOT YELL THAT BUT I AM BECAUSE THIS IS ALL I’VE WANTED FOR TWO YEARS and now it’s under these circumstances which ugh BUT I AM STILL HYPED. THEY GOT TO SAY IT AGAIN. GOOD. FUCKING GOOD.

“don’t make me come looking for you” danny says after he sits back down and without another word steve starts walking away and then he stops and looks back and catches danny looking over his shoulder but quickly looking away again and holy fucking damn if this isn’t how stories go when they try to tell us that two characters shouldn’t be parting because they don’t want to. turn around, steve. it’s so easy.

EDDIE. my gosh, ANOTHER blond guy who loves steve to pieces and who steve Should Not Just Leave, wtf.

eddie gets an i love you too and then a kiss and my heart! is having a hard time today!

oh LORD there’s a knock at the door and it’s the whole entire team and lou!!! is making me cry!!! and everyone whispers how much steve means to them at him while they’re hugging him and fjdkfd what. why is he leaving! it’s starting to sound like a worse decision by the second.

i could cry at all of these goodbyes seperately but right now i am also crying at tani immediately hugging noelani when she joins the pile of people who have said goodbye. ohhhh.

EVERYONE IS CRYING. not cool. VERY UNCOOL. also, honestly, i love that danny got to say goodbye seperately and it’s fitting that he just can’t watch steve actually walk out the door but also... he should have been here, gdi. now there’s this huge emotional team moment and he’s absent and it’s weird.

steve boards a plane and sits down and his phone beeps and it’s danny texting him “miss you already” and i cannot believe this is actual canon and had to pause to kind of laugh/gasp for air for a little bit.

and catherine shows up! i’ve been braced for this so i’m not surprised and it’s less bad than i thought in many ways but also. they talk about cath driving danny’s car and steve says they can’t have danny williams driving his own car and if that’s true, then why the hell are you leaving, steve. what are you doing to danny? (also. uh. danny’s car kind of went up in flames? he has a new one already? i. what.)

cath asks if steve is ready and they hold hands and steve turns to look out the plane window and smiles and that’s very suddenly it.

you know what? you know what, for the most part, i absolutely loved this. i was prepared for VERY BAD THINGS and i don’t enjoy steve leaving at the end at all and i have MANY NOTES on how things could have maybe ended even better but i. i am okay with this. i am okay with this! that is honestly more than i thought i would be able to say and i’m just VERY RELIEVED right now.

as for the show ending with steve and cath... that was weird, but... he also held danny’s hand this episode and that was supposedly platonic, and steve and cath did not suddenly have a big romantic kiss or get engaged, so i am choosing to take this as a platonic reunion with a person from steve’s past he still cares about, someone who travels a lot and was in hawaii to break that code and therefore this makes sense. he leaves with cath, and then, in a few weeks’ time, he comes back to danny (the person he cares about most in the world), and canon just, y’know, forgot to mention that little tidbit. it happens.

anyway, i had EMOTIONS and i still need to let all of this sink in and i hope you’re all doing okay after this whirlwind of a thing and ahhhh, it is so very weird that it’s over now. 💖

[theorynexus]

This should be... 78?

***cracks open some coloUrs and mayhem to relax to***

It is honestly quite interesting and rather surreal to read this description. Particularly given the fact that Karkat called his home a House, when it has previously always been described as a Hive.  XD

Wow. That sounds very, very Dirk-like.    And generally, all I have to say is, “Oh my gosh.”   @w@

This is... honestly, quite beautiful, in a horrible sort of way. Like Dave being pummeled by falling Smuppets when he was a kid. The wonderful exaggerated figures of speech do not cease from being awesome. They don’t get old.

Yes. Wow. That really did sound bad, and I am sortof disgusted.  (On a random note: I am surprised that Dirk and Dave haven’t been acknowledged to spend much time together, up to this point. It just strikes me as odd.)

Pffffft.  I am very glad to get more examples of how her powers work beyond the Emerald Eye’s gaze, by the way.  (This is all very silly and cute.)

Wow.  XD     ***is momentarily distracted/engrossed by the Iron Infidel’s organ and chanting***

***flails***    (On a random note:  I wonder if this is a future Dave [maybe the Davebot?] recording this retroactively as part of a time loop that his will somehow partially made happen?   Still feels like there’s not enough to be certain, but it’s felt like Dave might be the one who is narrating ever since I started to think about Dirk suggesting that he might not be corrupted by the narrative’s power over people’s lives.)

That’s, umm... an extremely selfish way of thinking, and is making me feel conflicted about the “Dave is narrating” assessment, though I do in fact still think he could write these lines out due to his ironic bent and whatnot.  Doesn’t strike me as likely that he might deviate all that far from relaying the truth for personal reasons like dignity and self-respect.

Uggghhh, this is sooo uncomfortable!  Not only insofar as it makes her look highly selfish and over-needy (though I can be the same way, at least I [try to] respect people’s boundaries, so this isn’t entirely hypocritical), but it also makes her seem... judgmental in a very similar way to how Dirk was, regarding the value of a relationship, and the quality of one in different types of development. Remember: Dave would be totally fine with things remaining like they are forever, according to what Dirk relayed before he tried to force them together! As such (and especially since Karkat seems very much willing to do the same), it is extremely frustrating and honestly borderline disgusting to see this kind of interference from people.  They don’t have to be expressly/overly romantic if they don’t want to be, and they certainly don’t have to drift into sexual territory. If it wasn’t obvious, by the way, it is wrong to try and force your desires on others like Jade is doing. That’s the kind of nonsense that gets you a Just Death.

Hmm. This reminds me very much of how Karkat reacted to being dragged into Kankri’s sermons.

And then breaks his leg upon impact with the ground, shouting his Ancestor’s sacred curse word into the wind and causing a religious event among all the numerous gathered trolls, who are generally crazy about him. Oh wait, I skipped a paragraph or two.  Heh. Yeah, Karkat hating flying is quite logical. (BLOOD CRAVES SOLID GROUND!!!)

This is incredibly silly and fun, by the way.

You tell her, Karkles Karkitty Karkrab Karkat!

ASDFGHJKL!!!  J-ja---   pffft. Fiduspawn theme song. So fricking silly. XD ( Oh my gosh, though.  The math problems... the experimentation!  MADNESS!!!) 

Another canon confirmation of Karkat’s horns not being the only thing about him that is short. This is indeed very amusing.   Dave may possibly, secretly protest too much, here.  But regardless, that’s something that, if so, he should work up to in his own time~

I now arrive at Iron Knight, ironically. Most awkward time, I know.  That said:   Wow, interesting!  I did not suspect his teeth were indeed that bad! O-o Oh, and Dave continues to put his foot in his mouth in the most horrible ways. As per normal.

Right as the song ended. I like this manner of description, and the interesting new use of his powers!

Oh, so the literal Seer of Light doesn’t get increased visual acuity, but the Witch of Space does, huh? XD       (The UV nature of the light is interesting from a mechanical standpoint. Suggests extreme speeds, possibly, but hard to be certain~)

Hmmm.   Actually, you know what, if that’s what she’s going for, I don’t know.  I think she’s being too light-hearted in her advances to be clear to Karkat, maybe?  Maybe be a bit more biting in your verbiage if you want him to understand, hmm?   I think at the moment this might be a bit like the situation with the mixed signals Karkat thought he was sending to Terezi on the meteor trip.  He seems to interpret her interference as probably a weird sort of flushed interaction, I think?  Not exactly the most productive to caliginous affairs.

(Sigh.  This is not a good way to encourage him to come out more, obviously. That should have been her primary goal, here.  Also:   Reminds me how weird it is that Alternian trolls seem to have a weird sort of culturally acceptable cannibalism that’s not really addressed much in the story for some reason, at least based on the way some things are worded?  It’s particularly horrible that the “PLEASE TELL ME THAT’S JUST GRUB SAUCE” scenes are made more funny by that fact, too.)   That she says “again” afterward is sad. uwu

[asleepinawell]

Things That Go Bang In The Night

Shoot Haunted House fic for halloween, except not really scary at all and mostly silly. Arranged as a series of shorts, or incidents as the case may be.

Based very loosely in my chaos au, but the only thing you need to know is it’s post-samaritan and shoot are a firmly established relationship at this point.

_________________

Nighttime Disturbances

John is cooking an aggressive amount of pancakes when Root comes downstairs. Root looks at the heaping plates full of breakfast food on the counter of the surprisingly modern kitchen and then at the dark circles under John's eyes and manages not to laugh. She does, however, smile ever so slightly and John's eye twitches just a fraction.

Shaw is the next to show up, wearing a shirt Root thinks might actually belong to her, but the mutual clothing-theft has gotten to the point where it's basically irrelevant. Shaw looks at John and John glares at Shaw and Shaw smirks for all she's worth. She takes two overflowing plates of pancakes, tucks a bottle maple syrup in the crook of her arm and secures a seat for herself at the big stone table in the kitchen. She looks at her plates for a few seconds and then shuffles the pancakes around with a fork until all but three are on one plate. The smaller helping gets pushed over in front of Root.

By the time John joins them at the table, Shaw has eaten half her pancakes, but she still eyes the plate of bacon and eggs he has. He puts a protective arm around his plate before he starts in.

Root waits until he’s drinking his orange juice before asking, innocently, “Did you sleep well, John?”

She's disappointed when he doesn't spit out his drink, but he does scowl at her around his glass.

Fusco shows up before John can answer and collapses into a vacant chair.

“Boy, when you said this place was haunted, you weren't joking.”

Root does not smile even a little bit. Shaw stuffs more pancakes in her mouth, a look of intense concentration on her face. On the other side of the table, John is grimacing.

Fusco doesn't seem to notice. “Creaks and bangs all night and ghostly moans. I don't think I got a wink of sleep.”

Root adjusts the collar of her shirt a little and she sees John's eyes narrow when he focuses in on the movement.

“Maybe we should attempt an exorcism tonight,” he says. “Pour some cold holy water all over the ghosts when they start being a nuisance.”

Fusco's forehead wrinkles in confusion. “I thought that was for vampires.” He gets up to investigate the pancake situation. “You really cooked a lot of these, huh?”

“I had trouble sleeping. For some reason.”

Root is done with her breakfast, but Shaw's still going strong. Root watches her stuff her cheeks like a squirrel preparing for winter.

“You two hear anything?” Fusco asks.

Root pretends not be watching John out of the corner of her eye. “Not that I can recall.”

“Funny. It was really loud. I was scared out of my mind. Spent the whole night pointing my gun at the door.”

“Do bullets even work on ghosts?” Shaw asks, her mouth momentarily pancake-free. “Silver bullets maybe?”

“That's werewolves,” Root corrects and Shaw shrugs as if defense against the supernatural is not an extremely important topic.

“I'm sorry we missed the excitement,” Root says. “I rather enjoy things that go bump in the night.” The eyebrow waggle might be a little too much, but she can't help herself.

John stands up, maybe just a little too fast.

“I'm going to go explore the rest of the house.”

_________________

Cleaning out the Attic

“Still don't see why we have to do this,” Shaw grumbles after she recovers from another sneezing fit. Everything here is covered with a thick layer of dust and it feels like her lungs are full of it, and Root has it even worse with the sneezing and itchy eyes. What a dumb mission.

“She thought it would be nice for all of us to get out of the city for a few days,” Root calls from the other side of the room. The boxes here are stacked high enough that Shaw can't see her over them.

“She could have given us an actual vacation then, not digging through moldy paperwork in a drafty old house in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Root pops her head around the nearest stack of boxes. There's dust in her hair, a grey smudge across one of her cheeks, and she's wearing a shirt with an overly cute little ghost on it that says 'hey boo-tiful’. Shaw shouldn't think she looks hot like that. She blames it on the boredom. And on the glasses which she knows Root doesn't need for this but she's wearing anyway as some sort of attack on Shaw's sanity.

“Am I not entertaining enough for you, sweetie?” Root's practically leering at her now which looks really dorky with her wearing that shirt.

Shaw drops a stack of paper onto the floor and brushes her hands off. “We can do that anywhere. Preferably somewhere warmer with room service.”

“But we'd be missing out on the added bonus of messing with the boys.” Root prods the stack of papers. “Nothing in these?”

“Not unless she's interested in a detailed hand-written accounting of how much it costs to redo the roof like eighty years ago.”

Root taps her lower lip with one finger. “Hmmm.”

“You can't be serious.”

Root shrugs helplessly. “She says you never know what She might need some day.”

Shaw has been basically over the Machine's new data collecting obsession since it started three months ago. She can acknowledge that there is a ton of information and history out in the world that's never been digitized and that some small fraction of it might help the Machine help humanity, but this is ridiculous.

The Machine can hardly rely on just them to dig up every paper document in the city, let alone in the world, and Shaw suspects she has a lot of people working for her without them realizing what their employer is. They get sent on occasional random missions though, most of which are horribly dull and involve a lot of sorting through paper and not a lot of knee-capping.

“If she really is going to want every single piece of paper in this house, she should say that and we can get a bigger van and just cram everything in there and let someone else sort it out.” Shaw has Claire still working on scanning in the thousands of pages from their last little trip, and that had been months ago.

“Afraid that's not the mission, Shaw.” Root prods the half-full box in front of Shaw meaningfully with one long finger. “And how often do you get to stay in one of the most haunted houses on the east coast?”

“I'd think New England would be lousy with the things.” Shaw takes in Root's expression, gauging her options. She knows she can get out of this, but she's got to approach it the right way. “Anyway, it's not like we've seen any ghostly activity here. Scariest thing to happen was that kale disaster Reese made for dinner last night.” Reese is a decent enough cook, but there are sometimes lapses in his judgment.

“Maybe we'll get lucky and see something spooky tonight since John exiled us to the east wing. It's supposed to be where most of the haunting has taken place historically.”

Reese had half-ordered, half-begged them to move to the other wing, and while Shaw doesn't take orders from him, she’s decided to be merciful. Most rooms in the house are huge and empty which lends it some interesting acoustics and, well, Root never was much of one for keeping quiet. Which brings Shaw back to her current mission to get out of sorting papers.

“You know,” Shaw says, shifting her weight to move herself a little closer to Root, “we could get lucky right now.”

The Machine must really want these damn papers because Root actually hesitates, but Shaw knows Root has no defense against a smooth come-on like that. She bites her lower lip (an unfair move) and sees Root's already-weak defenses crumble away in a flash.

“Attics are notoriously haunted,” Root says thoughtfully. “Might as well give this one a reputation.”

There's paper carpeting the attic floor by the time they're both worn out, some of which the Machine is probably going to yell at them for irrevocably damaging, but it's so worth it.

Root rolls over in the nest of scattered papers, looking for her shirt, and picks up a paper instead.

“This is about that kid that died here.” Root hands the paper over to her. “He was found drowned in a bathtub in the east wing. Everyone suspected his older sister, but no one could ever prove it.”

Shaw looks over the paper. It's got a clipping from a newspaper attached to it talking about the death of some kid called Phillip. She vaguely remembers Root talking about the whole thing on the drive up here. Supposedly the kid's ghost haunts the house and grounds and once drowned a gardener in one of the fountains on the lawn.

“Does the Machine care about stuff that's clearly just superstition?”

Root gets up and pulls her shirt back on, much to Shaw's disappointment. “She cares about how humans react to death and grief and fear, so in that sense, yes.”

“What about you? Do you believe in ghosts, Root?” Shaw teases.

“No.” Root smiles, but it's one of those hard, cold smiles, not one of the happy ones. “Ghosts tend to haunt people who wronged them during their life, right?”

“I guess?” She thinks there's something with loved ones getting haunted too, but she's hardly an expert on these things.

“If anyone was going to have been haunted…” Root trails off and shrugs. “So the odds are against them existing.”

Shaw rolls her eyes, because of course Root's ego would dictate that if she hasn't seen a ghost no one could have.

Root offers her a hand up off the floor. “What about you, Sameen?”

“Most things people take to be ghostly activity can be explained by quantifiable, scientific means. People are always blaming things they can't explain on the supernatural. It's lazy.”

Root grins and leans in so her face is right near Shaw's. “So what will you do when the ghost of little Phillip comes wailing down the hall to drown you in the tub?”

Shaw headbutts her gently in the face. “Any ghost shows up, I'll punch its ethereal teeth in, okay?”

Root backs up, clearly amused, and then glances around at the mess they'd made. “I think we should try the library. We can let Lionel finish up with the attic.”

“He'll love that.” Shaw hasn't been looking forwards to cleaning up the mess they made. She looks around the paper-covered floor one last time and then follows Root back down into the main house.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain

It's cold outside and Root wishes she'd brought a jacket, but the house and grounds are so large that going back for one would take at least twenty minutes. It might be worth it, except she's really tired and doesn't want to budge from the edge of the fountain she's perched on. The house has an unfortunate number of steps and she's been lugging boxes up and down them for the last day.

From out here she's got a pretty good view of the entire house. It's a massive thing, built out of grey and brown bricks with dark, empty windows lining every side. There's two distinct wings coming off the main house: the west wing which juts out onto the front lawn at a right angle from the rest of the house, and the east wing which, inexplicably, does the reverse and sticks out into the woods behind the house.

The front lawn has a few pathways across the overgrown grass, all in poor repair, and a handful of crumbling, ornamental fountains full of brackish water, including the one Root's sitting on. The back lawn has what was once a hedge maze but is now an impassable wall of brambles that the forest is hurrying to reclaim.

Shaw is running laps around the front lawn. Root figures she's working out the frustration of being stuck here for a week with no one to shoot. Shaw pauses next to the fountain on her next lap.

“You don't have to wait for me out here if you're cold.”

“I don't mind.” There's no easy way to watch Shaw work out back in the city, but here she can watch the full length of every lap Shaw runs and discreetly take pictures with her phone.

“Probably shouldn't stay by these things too long anyway.” Shaw peers into the murky water in the fountain with distaste. “Who knows what sort of shit's growing in there.”

Root looks in as well, but other than a distorted reflection of herself she can't see much.

“Maybe breathing in spores from whatever's growing in this toxic sludge is where all the ghost stories come from in the first place,” Shaw says. She drops a large rock in and it vanishes below the surface with a sploop noise. Ripples run across the surface of the water further distorting Root's reflection and stirring up the mud from the bottom. Something moves in the murky depths.

Root jerks back from the water and falls off the edge of the fountain to land on the ground.

“Root?”

Shaw looks at her like she's gone nuts and Root takes a second to get her breathing back under control before she answers.

“I didn't want to get splashed.” She gets back to her feet and tries to brush the dirt off, but the lawn was still damp from the rain last night so her pants are pretty much hopeless.

“It didn't even splash.” Shaw peers at the water as if she's expecting to find some other cause.

Root keeps her distance from the fountain. “We should head back inside and get changed before dinner.”

“Guess so.”

Root resolutely doesn't look back as they head up to the house for dinner. She knows it was just her imagination combined with reading stories of this place, but she can't quite shake the image of a corpse-pale face floating under the water, it's glassy eyes opened wide and staring at the sky.

_________________

The Face in the Fountain (continued)

They eat all their meals in the kitchen because the dining room is enormous, dusty, poorly lit, and even Shaw can admit it's a bit creepy. The kitchen is more than large enough and one of the few mostly clean rooms in the house. It should be a nice, friendly team dinner, but Fusco is exhausted and freaked out from the ‘ghost activity’ the previous evening, Reese is still sulking, and Root has been quiet since they came in for dinner. Shaw isn't sure what's up with her, but she figures it's nothing Root's going to open up about with the other two here.

After dinner they have to get their bags from their rooms to move to the east wing. Shaw brings a flashlight along since the electricity here seems to have a mind of its own and the wiring in the east wing is supposedly even worse. She thinks about calling the whole thing off and staying in the west wing, but she knows she'd get shit from Reese about being scared of ghosts if she did.

She briefly reconsiders again though because Root is still acting weird and making sure Root is okay is more important than not being teased by Reese, but Root doesn't seem to have any issue with switching wings. Still, she knows something is still up because Root doesn't hit on her once during the walk over and she's being all jumpy. Maybe she should have brought Bear along after all.

The rooms here are larger and probably had been nicer once upon a time, but now they're mostly dusty and full of covered furniture. The cleaning service the Machine had sent here ahead of time had salvaged a few bedrooms in both wings so there's a few habitable ones the choose from. Root opts for the smallest and Shaw doesn't argue because the rooms here are unreasonably large.

She waits until they climb into bed for the night before she tries to get an explanation out of Root.

“You've been quiet.”

Root murmurs something in response but it's muffled by her pillow. Shaw speaks evasive-Root-tactics well enough by this point that she can figure out by the pitch of Root's voice that she's brushing off the question. Shaw might have pushed further normally, but she's tired from lugging boxes of papers up and down stairs all day so she settles for rolling over closer to Root and dropping her arm over her. Root puts her hand over Shaw's and settles in.

Shaw isn't sure what wakes her up in the middle of the night, but she's suddenly wide awake and Root isn't next to her anymore. An unnecessarily dramatic flash of lightning from outside shows her that the other half of the bed is empty.

She figures Root probably just went to the bathroom, but the whole creepy house situation seems to merit her checking just in case. The bathroom is empty and Shaw stops back in her room to grab a flashlight before looking any further. Root took her slippers with her, she notes, so it wasn't like she ran out in a panic.

There's only a few places in the house they've all spent any amount of time in. She knows Root wouldn't go to the library since the extreme amount of dust there had caused her the sneezing fits that had sent them outside earlier that day. She wouldn't have a reason to go back to the room they'd stayed in previously, and a quick check of the main entrance hall has it full of shadowy corners but empty of Root. So that leaves the kitchen.

Root's sitting on the counter in the dark eating ice cream out of the container. Her hair is back in a messy ponytail and her bunny slippers are on her dangling feet. Shaw admits that she's maybe a tiny bit relieved by the sight even though she hadn't really thought anything bad had happened.

“I couldn't sleep,” Root says by way of explanation.

There's another flash of lightning outside followed by a peal of thunder and then it starts pouring. Raindrops hammer on the windows.

Root's face lights up in glee.

“Thunderstorm in a haunted house. Another item to cross off the bucket list.”

At least she seems to be in a better mood now even if she is working her way through their entire supply of ice cream. Shaw tries to rescue the remains of the pint, but Root loops her stupidly long legs around her and traps her there up against the counter. Root holds a large spoon of ice cream up and pushes it at Shaw’s face and no way is Shaw letting herself be fed like a child even if it is ice cream.

She ends up with ice cream smeared across her face before she escapes from Root's hold. The whole thing is extremely undignified and she's glad Reese isn't here to see it. She might discreetly wipe the remaining ice cream off her face with one hand and then lick it off her fingers, but there's no proof.

“Are you done now?” she asks, still indignant, but somewhat mollified by the delicious chocolate goodness.

Root evaluates her almost empty ice cream carton. “I suppose so.”

The ice cream goes back in the fridge and they walk back together by the light of Shaw's flashlight. Root seems okay now, but Shaw is still curious about earlier. She doesn't like it when she doesn't know why Root's upset, and if she doesn't find out what caused this round how can she prevent it next time?

“Did you see something when we were outside?” she asks as they cross the entrance hall. “In the fountain?” That's when this had started.

Root makes a small hmph noise. “Ghosts aren't real.”

“You saw a ghost out there?”

“Obviously I couldn't have since they're not real.” Root's tone is a bit condescending which Shaw takes as an improvement.

“Sure, but there could have been a dead animal or who knows what else in there. We can go take another look tomorrow if you want.”

“Yes, maybe that's just the thing.”

The way Root says it is maybe a bit ominous, but Shaw is glad enough that Root’s in a better mood that she doesn't read into it too much.

The next morning Root is already up and gone when Shaw wakes up. Shaw heads down to the kitchen and after a few very pointed hints from Reese makes a detour to the front lawn.

There is a huge truck parked on the front lawn. And a bulldozer.

Definitely suspicious.

Shaw goes back inside and gets coffee before investigating further because asking her to deal with Root's shenanigans without caffeine is cruel. When she gets over to the truck she sees some workers have a huge black hose running into the fountain Root had been sitting on yesterday and are draining it. Root stands nearby watching over the proceedings.

“When I said we could take another look…” Shaw trails off.

Root beams at her. “It was a great suggestion, so I figured I'd get right on it.”

“Right.”

The workers at the fountain wave them over. One of them points at something in the bottom of the drained basin. Shaw goes over to look and there, nestled in the wet weeds and filth, is the most repugnant looking baby doll she's ever seen. It's face is ghostly white and cracked and its glossy black eyes are wide and gaping like a fish's. If there'd been hair on it once it’s long gone now and most of the body is crushed.

“This what you saw yesterday?” Shaw can understand why seeing that bob up under the water might be disturbing, especially given the setting and the whole gardener-drowned-in-the-fountain story.

Root has a nasty glint in her eyes. “Unimportant now.”

She steps back from the fountain and waves an arm at the woman driving the bulldozer. Shaw sees where this is going and retreats to a safe distance. She'd ask Root if destroying the fountain is strictly necessary, but she already knows the answer she'd get and anyway Root just looks so pleased with herself and it's kind of endearing.

It's a weird sort of morning, she thinks. She's standing on the lawn of a haunted mansion wearing her boxers and a hoodie and Root's bright pink flip flops and drinking coffee out of a mug with a cartoon penguin on it. Root's next to her watching the bulldozer demolish the fountain with a look of intense satisfaction on her face. Her clothing situation isn't much better, though she at least managed to put on pants. She's got a new shirt Shaw hasn't before yet that says ‘ghouls just wanna have fun’ on it (Shaw is sensing a theme here) and an oversized flannel that Shaw thinks she might have stolen from one of their recent numbers and is barefoot much to Shaw's horror.

“Can I have a sip of that?” Root asks as the bulldozer backs up to make another pass at the ruined fountain.

“No,” Shaw says and hands her the mug.

“Thanks, Sameen.”

_________________

The Monster in the Conservatory

Fusco is red-faced and out of breath when he comes running into the lounge.

“It's...it's in the…” He pauses panting for breath.

Root waits politely for him to finish. Or leave. She's not picky.

“In the conservatory,” Fusco manages to get out.

Root sets down the ornamental dagger she's been considering accidentally acquiring for herself. “What is?”

“M-monster.” Fusco collapses into a mildewed arm chair.

Shaw peeks around the door frame from the next room. “What sort of monster?”

“Big...angry…teeth…”

“Evil dentures in the greenhouse sounds like a John problem,” Root says and ducks down to open the cabinet under the table.

“I want to fight the monster,” Shaw says. Her tone allows for no arguments.

Root can't not watch that so she gives up on robbing the place and follows Shaw. They pick up John from the smoking room along the way and head, not to the main entrance to the conservatory, but upstairs to the walkway entrance.

The conservatory is relatively newer than the rest of the house, a two story greenhouse built out of thick sheets of glass to let the sunlight in. There's a walkway on the second level of it that's accessible via a small staircase in the conservatory or an actual door from the second floor of the main house.

Shaw pauses as they near the door and reaches behind one of the creepy statues that line the hallways to pull out...a sniper rifle.

Root is impressed and slightly turned on. Maybe more than slightly. She wonders how many guns Shaw has hidden all over the house now.

“Let's see what this monster is,” Shaw says and pushes the door open.

The air inside smells awful, like rotten plants and soil and Root wrinkles her nose in disgust. Left untended, everything in the conservatory has either died or spread out to overtake all the other plants. There's vines and small trees below them and it looks a little like a jungle.

Shaw holds a finger up to her lips and then drops down to her hands and knees on the metal walkway to peer down into the forest below. Root looks over the edge of the railing, but nothing catches her eye. Maybe Fusco was imagining things.

Shaw smacks her on the leg and points and sure enough there's some leaves and branches rustling in the far corner. At first Root thinks it must be a squirrel, but it's pretty clearly something much larger. Maybe a deer?

All three of them watch the greenery closely as the shaking foliage gets nearer and nearer to the center of the room. Their quarry bursts out of the leaves and raises its large face to gaze up at them and sniff the air.

“Not a monster after all,” Reese says as they watch their new companion yawn hugely and show off its massive teeth and pink tongue.

“She's beautiful,” Shaw says softly, her voice full of wonder that's usually reserved for dogs.

Root isn't sure ‘beautiful’ is the word she'd use for the massive black bear munching on things in their house, but Shaw's obvious delight is adorable. Root, however, now feels totally justified in her previous caution about bears as those teeth are very large and its paws look impossibly huge. She's glad they're up high.

“There's a broken pane in the back,” Reese says. “She must have wandered in looking for food.”

Shaw frowns. “I hope she didn't step on any of the glass. Maybe we should check…”

Root is about to ask just how she plans to do that, but John seems to be one step ahead of her.

“We are not tranqing the bear, Shaw.”

Shaw actually pouts, lower lip stuck out like a child.

“But she might be hurt.”

They all watch the enormous bear stand up on its hind legs to rip a branch off a little tree. The walkway is high enough that she couldn't ever reach them, but it's still intimidating.

Shaw sighs. “Fine.” She sits down with her legs dangling over the side. Root figures she's staying until the bear gets safely away. She's torn between wanting to stay and watch Shaw watch the bear and going back to investigate the possibility of further fancy weaponry in need of a new owner.

Staying with Shaw wins out easily in the end. They sit side by side with their legs hanging off the walkway watching the bear snort and huff its way around the floor. Shaw's theory is there was some sort of fruit tree or berry bush down there and the bear is searching the ground for leftovers. Shaw takes the scope off her rifle so she can watch it close up.

After about an hour, the bear must run out of food because it lumbers back out the broken pane (Shaw watches with concern) and back into the woods at the edge of the property.

“I hope she's okay.”

“She'll be fine, Sameen.” It's sweet the way Shaw worries about some things so much, often things (people, animals) that no one else seems to care about. “Should we rip your clothes a bit and mess up your hair so we can tell Fusco the tale of your epic battle against the greenhouse monster?”

“No clothes ripping.”

Root could say several somethings about the hypocrisy of that, but she doesn't want to discourage Shaw from future over-enthusiastic clothing removals.

“We should make it look good though,” Shaw says and offers her a hand up. “Guess you'll need to give me a hand with that.”

“My pleasure.”

_________________

The Ghost of the East Wing

Root has to admit that the east wing of the house has a good, spooky atmosphere. There's scorch marks on some of the walls from a fire that partially burned down the wing years ago (the stories have it that you can still smell the smoke in the air, but Root has yet to smell anything other than mildew), and all the furniture is under white sheets. The wind howls through the cracks and rattles the windows enough to be irritating and make the whole place chilly. And then there's the fact the forest has grown in thick around this wing so there's nothing but dark woods outside the windows.

But the heating works well enough to keep the place comfortable and she's got Shaw as an extra heater, so it could be much worse.

Shaw whines in protest when Root sticks her cold feet up against her leg to warm them up. It's a cute enough noise that Root pulls her feet back and pushes them up against Shaw's other leg to see if she can get a repeat.

What she actually gets is socked in the face with a pillow.

It takes a few minutes of shuffling around before they're both comfortable enough to drift off and Root is so worn out from all the excitement of the day that she falls asleep quickly and doesn't wake up again until Shaw shakes her by the shoulder.

“Hhzzmhh?” Root asks. It's pitch black and she's still tired.

Shaw lays a finger across her lips to shush her and tilts her head to one side as if listening. Root goes as quiet as she can, barely breathing, and focuses on every little noise the house is making.

Footsteps. Those are definitely footsteps, and they're coming closer down the creaky floorboards of the hall.

Shaw rolls out of bed and drops to the floor in a crouch. Root knows for a fact that there's no way to move across the floor in this room without the floorboards making a racket, and yet Shaw is completely silent.

The footsteps are getting closer, and even though Root knows that ghosts don't exist and that the house isn't really haunted, she still feels a slight twist of fear in her stomach. She grabs her taser off the nightstand since Shaw has a gun already and if somehow she's been wrong all these years and ghosts really do exist, then maybe an electric current will be more effective against them than a bullet.

The door bursts open and there's a tall, formless white figure in the hallway.

“OoooOOOooooo,” it moans.

Root sighs. He wasn't even trying very hard, was he?

Shaw leaps up from where she was crouched next to the door and socks the ghost squarely in where it's face would be.

“Oww!” the ghost yells.

Shaw kicks it in the leg and slams into it so it falls over, twisted in its own sheet.

Root gingerly climbs out of bed and winces when her feet hit the bare floor. She tests the power on her taser as she moves towards the fallen ghost. Sure, she knows it's John, but he doesn't know that she knows so who could blame her for defending herself?

It's hours before anyone gets back to sleep.

_________________

Reassignment

Shaw wakes up to the news that they've been taken off the mission and are to return to the city immediately. She'd sort of been hoping to see the bear again, but otherwise she's pretty glad to get out of this place.

The list of reasons Root gives for their sudden departure is hard to argue with. The many incidents the Machine took issue with include: destruction of valuable historical documents, destruction of historic architecture, petty larceny, grand larceny, discussion of unsafe animal handling techniques (Shaw rolls her eyes at that one), excessive sneezing on valuable books, using historical stone gargoyles as target practice, attempted assault on an asset with a non-lethal weapon, and successful unarmed assault of an asset leading to a mild injury.

It's an impressive list and Shaw figures it's no wonder she feels so tired.

Reese is loading the car when she gets outside. He still isn't speaking to her and is holding an ice pack to his bruised jaw. Really he should be grateful she'd stopped Root from tasing him. It's not their fault he decided to try and scare them and they're hardly to blame for retaliating.

Root is a little sad they're leaving early and still sulking about missing out on a good tasing, but she seems eager to get back home as well. She steals the passenger’s seat before either of the boys can try to claim it.

Fusco is grumpy despite being the only one to have gotten a full night's sleep. “Next time you three need help, don't call me.”

Reese broods intensely in the back seat.

“Guess it'll just be you and me for the next haunted house,” Root says.

Shaw considers pointing out that basically every single strike against them from the Machine was either her or Root's fault (though Reese had brought that slug in the jaw on himself), and that the chances of either of them ever being sent on a similar mission are slim to none.

“I think we're scarier than a bunch of ghosts,” she says instead.

Root looks quite pleased with that response and begins listing off directions to get them back to the highway and out of this desolate area. Shaw starts the car down the driveway, the slightly-more-decrepit-than-they'd-found-it house in her rearview mirror.

[texanredrose]

Price to Pay

Based off this prompt from @makas0ul.

For decades, she slept. Unaware of the comings and goings of the mortal world, she slumbered in peace, tucked away in a cave in the highest mountain of the furthest range, half a world away from her former family. Once, the Dragons were mighty and great creatures who ruled over all Remnant, but those halcyon days had passed long before she hatched. Her father wished to use their power to retake the world but she had no such delusions; the Humans and Faunus had inherited the world and, soon, their time would come to an end, too. 

So Weiss slept, curled up on a meager horde, and only awoke when some fool sought her out, hoping that by bidding her blessing, they might reached greater heights. However, they didn’t understand how Dragon magic worked, that nothing could be given without a price being paid; they learned before they left her cave. 

If they left it, anyway.

They would enter, usually surrounded by a retinue of lesser mortals, each haggard from the long journey so that their King or Chief or whatever could beseech the great Dragon. Some had even come to kill her. All of them underestimated her and, eventually, her legend turned to one of a terrible beast capable of granting whatever one may desire but at a price one could never afford. At least, that’s what she assumed happened after her last visitor, some seventy years ago- a man who wished to live forever, that he might rule over Vale for all eternity.

She turned him into a mountain. The very one she claimed as her den, actually, for a Dragon gives nothing without gaining something in return.

Weiss might’ve slept for seventy years more, but the sounds of grunting and cursing, combined with shifting and sliding rock, pulled her from her slumber easily. The Dragon lifted her head, stretching out her great wings for the first time in so long and letting out a growling yawn- a warning. The sounds stopped for a moment but, when they continued, they came quicker, with urgency. It seemed that whoever had climbed her mountain truly sought her presence.

Frankly, she couldn’t say she minded. Although irksome in their demands, the mortals of Remnant were the only company she could keep throughout the slow march of time. Her sister had fled Atlas before she did and found somewhere to hide, where neither their father nor Dragonslayers would find her. Weiss, perhaps, had been less discreet, if only to increase the chances of running into Winter again. She’d considered her elder sibling might’ve been killed but she doubted it; older by several decades and strong enough to defy their father, it would take more than a mere mortal army to bring her down. 

Finally, her guest reached the mouth of the den she’d dug for herself, a skylight allowing the sun to filter through and gleam off her bright, white scales as she curled around the small horde she’d collected back when such things interested her. It was small for a Dragon of her age but she’d lost the will to raid the mortals for their glittering jewels several decades before her last visitor, when she took to sleeping between the infrequent guests. It had once meant something- the size of a Dragon’s horde, the variance, the way it was kept- but, seeing as she was the only Dragon in Vale, and perhaps one of only five left in the world... well, what was the point, anyway?

Great blue eyes watched as her guest approached, trudging closer after a moment’s pause. Although her own breathing echoed off the den’s walls, she could hear the steadying breath the Human took, steeling her nerves to approach the beast of legend.

“Are you the Great White Dragon?” The Human called out, stopping about fifty meters off, looking up to meet Weiss’ eyes in either a show of courage or defiance.

Either way, she rolled her eyes. “No, I’m the Great Blue Dragon. The Great White Dragon is two mountains over.”

“You’re- wait.” The Human growled, clearly vexed. “Are you trying to pull one over on me?”

“Just pointing out how ridiculous a question that was.” She spread both wings and lifted her tail, showing off as many scales as possible. “Do I look like a white Dragon to you? Are there really so many Dragons left in the world for a distinction to be necessary? Why would you even ask that?”

With a muttered curse, she put a hand to her face, clearly trying to control her temper. “Look, are you the one who grants wishes or not?”

“I am.” She lowered and turned her head, so she could get a better look at the woman before her. After so many years alone and asleep, she couldn’t get a good judgment on the woman’s height, but she seemed tall and sturdy, even buried under the layers of clothing that protected her from the cold mountain air. The armor she wore was second hand at best, old leather than bore too many holes to be of any use, and battered gauntlets that had seen better days. From beneath an orange scarf wrapped around her head and neck, golden strands tumbled down her back and lilac eyes peered up at her without showing a hint of fear, flashing with stubborn conviction. “But the better question is, who are you to come into my den and demand answers of me?”

“My name is Yang Xiao Long,” she said, not retreating even a single step despite how easy it would be for Weiss to snap her up in powerful jaws. Come to think of it, she hadn’t eaten in quite a while... but she supposed she could hear the woman out first. “I’ve come to make a wish.”

“And here I thought you were just coming to say hi.” The Dragon lifted her head again, looking down upon the mortal. “What do you seek? Fame? Fortune? Immortality?”

“My sister’s sick.” Yang didn’t blink, didn’t falter, didn’t waiver in the slightest as she spoke, those lilac eyes glinting like gems. “I wish for you to save her. Please.”

Weiss paused. “You wish for me to spare the life of your sick sister. That’s it.”

“Yes.” The woman took another breath before kneeling down and bowing her head. “The legends say you require a price to be paid for any wish. Take my life in exchange for my sister’s. It’s... it’s all I have.”

For a moment, silence filled the den. In all her years, she’d been visited by nobles and soldiers, by the greedy and the proud and the envious, but she’d never been sought out by one who desired something for another and not themselves. The Dragon had thought it odd, in some respects; wouldn’t everyone come looking for her, if she could bestow amazing gifts? But she didn’t know how the mortals told her tale, or if they told it at all; then again, her latest additions to her horde had come from those who visited her, after she’d granted their terrible wishes and their loyal attendants had fled. Perhaps the people of Vale thought only the richest among them could even afford a wish. And yet this one had come anyway.

“Tell me your story, Yang Xiao Long.” She settled onto her horde once more, laying her head on her crossed claws. “How is it you’ve come all this way to beg for your sister’s life with nothing but your own meager existence to barter?”

Another curse fell from the woman’s lips but she raised her gaze, looking at the Dragon with a hint of anger in her eyes. “My mother abandoned me when I was a child and her mother died when we were small. Our father raised us but he’s just a woodsman; he did the best he could. He got sick three years ago and passed last winter, the disease eating away at him from the inside out. Ruby...” Some of the anger gave way to sadness. “She started getting sick during his last month. There’s... there’s nothing the healers can do.”

“A disease that takes two years to kill... that is a painful thing.” Her words were true but they weren’t all she thought of the story- if it could even be called that. It sounded like a curse or perhaps Dragon magic, and she wouldn’t put it past her father to inflict such a price upon a mortal for a wish granted. Regardless, she hadn’t done anything quite this malicious, so she turned her attention to the next question on her mind. “How long did you travel to find me?”

“Six months.”

“Hmmm... and if you hadn’t, and were forced to return home with no cure and no wish, you’d have spent half your sister’s remaining time chasing a legend.”

Through gritted teeth, the words came. “I had to try.”

Weiss tapped a claw against the gold beneath her. “You know you are not offering me your life as a slave, yes?”

“Kill me, turn me into a mountain, chain me to a tree in the middle of the forest, I don’t care.” Yang’s hands curled into fists atop her knees. “Just save my sister.”

The others would name their prices when they came to make requests of her. They offered jewels and gold, slaves and feasts, sacrifices and tributes, but none appealed to her, so she took what she wished instead. No one had ever offered their own life before.

At length, Weiss finally spoke, slowly easing herself up in the process. “I must see your sister. I am powerful, as all Dragons are, but there are things beyond even my magic. Let’s see if I can grant your wish, and only then will I take my dues.”

She thought that Yang would have something to say in response to that, and she wasn’t disappointed. At least, not in that regard. “Wait.” She stood up, once again looking defiant despite the undercurrent of relief that eased the tension from her frame. “Promise me that, if you can save her life, you don’t do anything against her.” The woman put a hand to her chest. “I am the one asking for the wish; I’m the one who has to pay the price.”

“I’m well aware of this,” she replied, blowing air through her nose in exasperation.

“Promise me.” She held out a hand, as if expecting a handshake to seal the accord. A moment later, Yang obviously realized how ridiculous a notion it was, yet she didn’t falter. “Please.”

Weiss sighed. “At least you have your manners.” With one claw, she reached forward, allowing the woman’s hand to grip it as best she could. “Satisfied?”

“Yeah.” Now, the relief showed plain in the blonde’s expression as she nodded.

“Very well. Now, I’d rather not waste any more time than absolutely necessary.” Her tail swung around, the thin tip wrapping around the woman’s waist and lifting her up effortlessly. “Tell me where your sister is- directions from here, mind. Mortal names are useless to me.”

It took a few minutes of wiggling and vain attempts to free herself- or perhaps simply make herself more comfortable- before Yang responded, a hint of agitation in her tone. “We live on an island off the north eastern coast. It’s called Patch-”

“What did I say about the names?”

“-And can’t I just ride on your back? It’ll be easier to give you directions that way.”

“I’m not about to be mounted by a mortal like some beast of burden,” she said, claws scraping against stone as she made her way out of her den. “If you want your wish granted, any further complaints will remain unsaid.”

Much to her surprise, aside from some grumbling, Yang remained silent as the Dragon brought them out of the cave and into the harsh sunlight of the outside world. It took her eyes a moment to adjust, feeling the keen bite of the cold mountain wind for the first time in decades and spreading her wings wide to feel it gliding over her scales. She took a deep breath before taking to the sky, flying for the first time in centuries, with her cargo alternating between marveling at the world below and loudly pointing out that they were going the right way but it would be easier to tell from a better vantage point.

The latter was ignored, of course.

Weiss flew for hours before deciding to take a break for the night, the sun hanging low in the western sky. Even if she could go centuries without food, mortals in general were rather weaker in that regard, and she could swear she felt Yang’s stomach rumbling so loud it made her scales vibrate.

She chose a small clearing in a forest heavy with the scent of game, too far from the coast for the smell of the sea to throw off her ability to hunt. The Dragon wouldn’t need much- honestly, a boar would do at this point, but she could smell an abundance of deer, so she might have to settle for venison and simply gorge herself- and the Human likely had her own stores. When she landed, she opted to be polite and set Yang down on her feet rather than simply dropping her on the ground.

“Ugh, I think I’m going to be sick.” She groused, holding a hand to her head.

“A bit of a delayed response, don’t you think?”

“Before, I had the thought that, if I’d thrown up on your scales, you would’ve dropped me in a lake and flown back home to help keep everything settled.” The woman bent over, hands on her knees as she focused on her breathing. “I don’t have that anymore.”

She probably wouldn’t have done so but the Dragon didn’t bother letting that be known; they still had some distance to travel before reaching Yang’s home. “Well, while you’re busy calming yourself down from our little flight, I’m going to find some dinner.”

“You’re not going to fly, are you?” Although still looking a little queasy, the woman straightened up and motioned around. “There’s villages all along the border of this forest. If anyone sees you, it could start a panic.”

“Oh? Are mortals so quick to take action against the Great White Dragon?” She peered down at Yang, trying to frame her surprise in a different light; after the Dragonslayers waged their war, the number of Dragon families that remained in Remnant numbered very few, and those numbers dwindled further in the centuries that followed. She would’ve thought her kind had passed into myths and legends by this point, with so few remaining and many not strong enough to weather a war against the Human kingdoms that sprouted up in the wake of the Dragons’ fall. “And here I thought I still had a few fans.”

The woman hesitated, seeming to weigh her words before opting to stand her ground, that defiance from before shining in lilac eyes. “Some of the stories say you fall upon villages and wipe them out, eating every person and taking the livestock back to your cave. Whatever you don’t take, you burn.”

Weiss tapped a claw against the ground, digging into the dirt slightly. “You think I aim to wipe out a village tonight, is that it?”

“I really don’t have many reasons to think otherwise.”

“I’ll grant you that.” So it seemed she would not be eating quite yet. It didn’t truly matter to her, anyway. “Though, for the record, I don’t eat Humans or Faunus. Your diets are too varied; it’s impossible to tell which of you will taste halfway decent.” Tucking her wings in close to her body, Weiss set about laying down for the night. She didn’t really need the rest but, honestly, she had nothing better to do, and if this was truly one of the woman’s last days alive, she might as well have a good night’s rest. “At the same time, I’d rather not do any fighting.”

She settled on the north side of the clearing, up against some tall trees, with her tail curling around her body and her neck bending so she could lay her head atop the soft grass beside her front claws. She’d spent so much time alternating between sleeping among the cold metal of her horde and the hard stone of her den, she’d forgotten the simple pleasure of napping beneath the open sky with the warm earth beneath her and the soft grass to act as her bed.

“So... you’re not going to eat?”

She cracked one eye open to look at the Human. “No. Not if it runs the risk of riling up your kind. We’re going to see if I can cure your sister, not start a Dragon Hunt. Knowing how your kind work, so much as being seen in the area would be enough to take the blame for every little thing that goes wrong in the whole kingdom for the next three months.” Her eye fell shut. “It’s of no concern.”

“I can hunt for you.” Weiss opened her eye again, scanning the woman’s form. Yang didn’t carry any weapons- at least, none the Dragon could see- but she seemed entirely serious. “There’s plenty of game in the woods. An hour or two and I can bring you something. A boar, a deer, maybe a bear?”

Taking a deep breath in through her nose, she focused on the scents lingering among the fresh scent of the forest. “Too few boar, they would be difficult to track. Plenty of deer, though.” She closed her eye. “And you’re not well equipped enough to take down a bear. Head west, there should be a herd of deer that way; I can smell them on the wind.”

“I can take down a bear, if I want.”

“I don’t believe you could take down a stag, much less a bear,” she replied, sighing through her nose. “I can’t grant your wish if you get gored by some beast before we even reach your island. Just find a sick doe, if you must find anything at all.”

Weiss heard a few mutters- something about her being a ‘big dumb lizard with a smart mouth’- but if Yang had anything further to say, she mostly kept it to herself and stalked off to the west as night descended on the forest.

The Dragon dozed lightly, at first acclimating to the strange sounds of the forest before allowing herself to fall into a deeper slumber. She would awaken at the first sound of someone- or something- approaching the clearing, so it didn’t trouble her to rest while she could. Her wings ached slightly from spending years asleep and suddenly putting them through such a vigorous workout but her magic soothed the muscles easily. 

Weiss wondered on the frailty of mortals for a time. She always thought it odd that such small, weak creatures could’ve driven her predecessors to the brink of extinction yet saw the proof with her own eyes; where once stood a meeting place of sorts for the Dragons of Atlas, now mere dust and detritus remained, the stone and metal smashed and twisted by mortal armies. On their own, mortals could accomplish very little compared to a Dragon, but when they banded together, they could be much stronger, whereas Dragons relied on none but themselves for anything. Pride, she supposed, was their greatest weakness, and greed, seeing as it was by demanding more and more for their hordes that the mortals revolted against the Dragons.

It didn’t matter, she decided. The world stood as it did now and she could not change it; perhaps it was for the better.

About an hour after she left, Yang made her way back to the clearing, labored breathing coming from the south. She must’ve had to chase after the herd, the Dragon surmised, and opened her eye. However, she had to lift her head to use both when she saw a lumbering shadow pushing through the undergrowth, easily three times the size of the woman who’d gone hunting. Immediately, fire gathered on her tongue, ready to broil whatever creature would dare intrude upon the clearing, but she held off until it broke through and revealed that it was, in fact, Yang, hoisting the carcass of a large brown bear and throwing it down between them.

“There.” She pointed, a smile on her lips. “I told you I could take down a bear.”

Weiss blinked in surprise. “You went off and found a bear just to prove me wrong?”

“No, I was going to get a stag.” The woman lifted her right shoulder, wincing slightly. “The bear found me.” Rolling her neck once, Yang pulled a bloodied- and likely dull, given the rust near the hilt- knife from her belt and started towards the dead animal. “Just give me a little bit and-”

“Or we could do this the easy way.” Weiss reached out with her tail, dragging the carcass close enough for her to reach out with a claw, pressing the tip into the bear’s fur. In a brief, bright flash, her magic had rippled out, tearing the skin from the meat and pulling it away with her claw, which she promptly set aside. Once again, she allowed fire to gather on her tongue, though of a different sort; where the previous flame would’ve burned straight to the bone, this plume would swirl around the target at a much lower temperature, cooking the meat rather than burning it. Using her blue flames tapped into the purest form of her magic, more often than not the very method she used to grant the wishes begged of her, but it served more mundane purposes as well. When her jaws closed, taking all but a few tongues of blue fire with it, the smell of cooked meat wafted up from the bear’s carcass, pulling at her hunger. “There. Much easier.”

“Yeah... I guess so.” Yang had stood and watched the display with barefaced amazement, as if she could hardly imagine the sort of power one must possess to make such a task take mere seconds instead of another hour at least. Slowly, she slid her knife back into her belt and turned, heading over to the pelt. “If I hadn’t seen it myself, I’m not sure I would’ve believed it.”

“Well, you are merely a mortal.” The Dragon reached out, pulling a hind leg free of the body and tossing it into her mouth, chewing it slowly to savor the taste before swallowing. After so many decades without proper sustenance, she had to admit the taste rather appealed to her. Perhaps she should wake up once every decade or so to hunt and remind herself of the simple pleasures of the world, like good food. “Magic is the domain of Dragons; Humans and Faunus can control it but can never create it themselves.”

“Control it?” The woman furrowed her brows, drawing the bear skin around her and sitting down, reaching into a pouch on her hip. “How could anyone who can’t create magic control it?”

“By having it bequeathed to you, of course,” she said, pulling off the foreleg on the same side. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard the story. A Human king came to me once, wishing for a fraction of my power- magic to control the elements.” With a flick flick of her claw, she ate the foreleg, thinking back on that particular exchange. “That was back when I didn’t incur stiff penalties against those who begged boons of me. I took one of my scales and fashioned for him a gauntlet that would let him pull fire from air and water from earth, bend them to his will.” Turning her head, the Dragon bent closer to Yang, allowing her to see the crack in her scales that started above her left eye and tracked all the way down to her jaw. “He immediately turned it against me, thinking a bit of lightning might be enough to kill a Dragon.”

Yang reached out, putting a hand to the broken scales, and while Weiss hadn’t moved her head with the intention of letting the woman touch her scar, she didn’t pull away immediately. It seemed strange, the touch of another creature, and something she hadn’t felt in centuries, but that wasn’t what kept her from jerking away. For some reason, Yang looked... upset, if she was reading the mortal’s expression correctly, and that confused the Dragon. Why would she be concerned about such things?

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she eventually said, nothing but sincerity in her tone. “I can’t imagine why anyone would do something like that.”

“It’s an age old mindset. That which has the power to grant something also has the power to take it away; likewise, it has the power to grant it to others.” Weiss waited until the woman withdrew her hand before pulling away, looking up to the shattered moon overhead. “Mortals have sought me for centuries, hoping I could give them something to make them more powerful than those they lorded over. But as long as I exist, so too does an opportunity for a challenger to rise up, so they often sought to destroy me with the very gifts I gave them.” She shook her head. “I grew wiser after the third time. I inflicted harsh stipulations; the greater the request, the graver the price. Even knowing this, still they came. Still they asked. And I got more creative with each time.”

Silence descended between them as Weiss rolled the bear over, taking the other hind leg. Between the heavy taste of the meat and the sweet marrow of the bones, she’d be hard pressed to name a more delicious dish, but so, too, would she be hard pressed to name any dish. Not since she’d left Atlas had she had something properly cooked by a hearth fire rather than her magic.

“I don’t blame you,” Yang said, pulling some bread and cheese from her pouch. “No one ever tells that part. It’s always some knight or peasant looking for a simple boon- a stronger sword to defend people with or a favorable wind for their crops. No one says anything about them trying to kill the Dragon after granting the wish.”

“And why would they?” Weiss let out a bitter chuckle. “Far be it for any mortal to admit fault. It’s much easier to blame the Dragons your kind deposed... though, truthfully, I suppose we earned it, too.”

“Were you- I mean, how long have- uh...” Looking away, the woman seemed to struggle with how to word her query before opting to be blunt. “How old are you?”

“Tact is not a strong suit for you, is it?” Weiss rolled her eyes. “I didn’t hatch until after the Dragons fell but I’m not terribly old by our standards. And I’ve spent most of my years slumbering.”

For a time, they were quiet, with the Dragon tearing off a chunk of meat from the body of the bear and chewing it thoughtfully while her companion nibbled on nothing but cheese and bread. From the corner of her eye, she watched, noting how Yang never seemed to eye the remaining bear meat with envy or hunger, contenting herself with her meager meal.

“Hey, uh, so I have a question.” Ah, there it was. Weiss felt her lips curl up slightly, awaiting the obvious question. “Do you... have a name? Like, something other than Great White Dragon?”

Okay, that wasn’t what she expected. “You want to know my name?”

“Or just something to call you.” She put a chunk of bread in her mouth, speaking around it as she chewed. “The legends say a Dragon’s name is powerful but... I just can’t keeping thinking of you as ‘the Dragon’ in my head, if that makes sense. It seems... rude.”

“This time tomorrow, you may be dead.” She pointed out, mostly to buy herself time. What Yang said wasn’t untrue- a Dragon’s name could be very powerful indeed- but she hadn’t bothered to even think of her True Name in centuries, so that didn’t concern her. The name she’d chosen for herself, however, was known only to herself, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to change that.

“Then I’ll know who to thank for saving my sister,” the woman replied, though her mood seemed sufficiently soured by the reminder that she wouldn’t survive much longer anyway. “Sorry, it was a dumb question anyway.”

She watched as Yang returned to her meal, apparently content to let the conversation die, which was probably for the best. Even a name she’d chosen for herself had a small amount of power in it... though no mortal existed who knew how to wield it, not even the power of her True Name. Such knowledge was lost long before she learned how to fly.

“Weiss.”

“Huh?”

“My name. Or as close to it as I’ll ever speak.” She ripped off the bear’s remaining leg, holding the meat between the tips of two claws. “It’s Weiss.” The Dragon offered the food to Yang. “And you need to eat more than just cheese and bread.”

“Yeah... might be my last meal, huh?” The woman gave a mirthless chuckle, putting her food in her lap and reaching out to accept the offering. Despite the circumstances, Yang tore into the meat with her hands and teeth, revealing a voracious appetite. Despite the vigor with which she ate, it became obvious that the meat of the leg would be more than enough to fill her, leaving the remainder of the bear to the Dragon. “Thanks for this.”

“Aside from the mouthful of meat mangling the words, she had to admit the woman kept her manners in mind. “You’re welcome.”

“Did you want to keep the skin?” She gestured towards the bear skin draped around her.

Weiss mulled it over for a moment. Generally speaking, anything glittering or metallic caught her interest, but fine silks and furs often did, too. At the moment, however, she didn’t particularly care. “I have no use for it.”

“Do you mind if I use it for tonight?” Yang raised a hand, stifling her yawn as best she could. “I- I, ah, lost all my sleep stuff a few days ago and this’ll make a great blanket.”

“Lost your... sleep stuff?” The Dragon carved off another slice of meat, eating now from boredom rather than hunger as she considered what ‘sleep stuff’ could possibly refer to- likely blankets and tents and the like, things fragile mortals needed to survive the elements that weren’t necessary for most creatures. “How did that happen?”

“Pack of wolves nearly got me. I used my bag to beat them back, and sent one over a cliff with it.” With another yawn, the woman set aside the bear meat, having devoured a good portion of the upper arm- far more than expected for such a small creature. Apparently, she’d been left with only bread and cheese for quite a period of time. “Lost most of my supplies when that happened so I haven’t... haven’t really slept... since... then.”

Weiss blinked, noting the slowing speed of her speech, and looked over in time to see the woman nearly fall over as she struggled to remain conscious. The full stomach plus warmth of the bear skin must make staying awake a trial that Yang was fighting to overcome with all her might, but the Dragon merely rolled her eyes and user her tail to tip the woman over. Once sprawled amid the bear skin, it seemed exhaustion took its toll, no objection leaving her lips in favor of simply slipping off into slumber. With nothing else to do, Weiss reached over and pulled the half eaten bear leg towards her, opting to take the remaining meat and put a magic barrier over it, that they might sleep without worry that scavengers might come and steal it in the dead of the night. She also separated the bear’s claw from the rest of the leg.

Traveling as far as she did, losing vital supplies and still going, and then spending the whole day flying for the first time only to land and go hunting, fighting off a bear... Yang had certainly endured quite the journey to sacrifice herself for her sister’s health, Weiss mused, leaning over to tap a claw lightly against the woman’s sleeping form. She hardly stirred but hissed in her sleep all the same; the bear hadn’t escaped the encounter with its life but the woman hadn’t escaped without wounds herself. Yet, she made no mention of it.

With a brief burst of magic to speed the recovery process on its way, Weiss pulled her tail back and laid down to sleep.

When morning came, the Dragon awoke to the rising sun filling the treetops with light accompanied by Yang’s light snoring. She hadn’t moved since being toppled and, were it not for the cacophony of sound issuing from her, Weiss might think her dead. Nothing had dared wander through the clearing during the night, the scents of all the creatures of the forest far more muted thanks in part to the morning dew and, more importantly, greater distance. It seemed that nature wasn’t as quick to forget how dangerous a Dragon could be and that mollified her a bit.

However, seeing as she had no real reason to rush, Weiss continued to rest as the sun rose, eventually stretching out a wing to keep the woman shaded. If she’d truly gone many days without sleeping due to a loss of equipment, surely a few hours’ extra sleep weren’t too bothersome. Even if it had been centuries since the last time she’d traveled so far, the Dragon remembered the general lay of the land, and whatever island the woman hailed from would be easily reached in half a day’s flying.

So the morning wore on and Weiss dozed lightly,occasionally retracting her wing to keep it rotate the joint before stretching it out again. As it drew close to midday, the day warmed enough that the woman began to sweat beneath the bear skin, forcing her to move and kick it off, which inadvertently awoke her. Yang sat up, stretching and yawning, a series of pops filling the air as she pushed and pulled at stiff joints.

“Oh, wow. I haven’t slept that hard in a while,” she said, another yawn erupting from her mouth. “How long have I been out?”

Weiss pulled her wing back, revealing the sun high over head. “Not a full day, yet. Thought I don’t doubt you could’ve slept til tomorrow.” She jumped up, alarm showing plain in her expression, but the Dragon waved off her concern with a flick of her tail. “We’ll reach your island before sundown. Your sister still has, what, at least a year left?”

“Maybe, but she’s younger- it might...” Yang trailed off, averting her gaze. “We should get there as soon as possible.”

“Most mortals would delay their execution.”

“My death doesn’t mean anything compared to saving my sister’s life.” She reached out, putting a hand on Weiss’ tail. “Please. The sooner we get there-”

With a small sigh- she was actually enjoying the sunlight filtering through the leaves- the Dragon lifted herself up, rotating her wings to prepare for the flight. “I forget how precious time is to those who measure their passing in years, not centuries.”

“Yeah, well, take pity on the Human for being unable to wait another day, okay?” Yang laughed, though it sounded a tad bitter. “I can always sleep when I’m dead.”

Weiss tapped her claw against the soft dirt for a moment before wrapping her tail around the woman’s waist, lifting her into the air and setting her between the Dragon’s wings. “We’ll have to fly low to land on your island. If people see us, they’re less likely to attack me if it appears I’m... tamed.” She rolled her eyes, lightly pushing at the woman’s back with the tip of her tail. “Find a seat and hold onto the spikes along my spine. Else, you’re liable to fall to your death.”

“I kinda wanna be touched that you’re concerned for my safety but... I guess it’s really all about timing, isn’t it?” She could feel the woman’s boots walking along her back. “Give me a minute. You’ve got some sap on your scales.”

Ah, one of the disappointing realities of being out among nature rather than holed up in her den. Weiss frowned, craning her neck around to watch as the woman pulled her knife free and began scraping the sap away with the blunt side. “You realize I could use my magic and have it done much quicker, yes?”

“I’d rather you save your magic.” Yang looked up at her, a small frown touching her lips. “If you’re not sure you can save my sister, you probably need your strength.”

“You’re stubborn and proud,” she said, narrowing her eyes slightly. The trees overhead had left a smattering of sap all along her back, hardly noticeable to her but discoloring her scales all the same. While the woman held the knife in one hand, she pulled the scarf from around her neck and used it to brush away the cracked sap and polish the scales to their usual white shine. “You’ll wear yourself out.”

“Look, this will literally be one of the last things I’ll do.” Yang didn’t bother stopping her work, chipping away the hardened sap without looking up. “At least let me do something now to show my gratitude.” She paused. “And I suppose this could be ‘thanks for not eating me without hearing me out’, too.”

“Do the legends really paint me as being so rude?” Despite the insistence against it, Weiss flooded her scales with magic to make the task easier, though she pretended to leave the woman to her work, carving off a few more slices of the bear meat from the carcass. She had no real hunger to speak of but it would be nice to savor the flavor a little longer.

“Well, generally speaking, all the stories say that Dragons hate Humans and Faunus alike- we’re inferior, mortal, small and squishy and lacking in magic. So, after the Ancient Kings broke the Circle of Dragons and founded the mortal kingdoms, yeah, pretty much every legend says that Dragons are more likely to eat you than talk to you.”

Weiss picked up the bear skin- abandoned after Yang awoke- and began weaving her magic through the fur to pass the time. “For as terrible a beast as I should be, I must admit, the whole situation paints you in a rather dubious light.”

The woman grunted, pulling a water skin from her belt to help clear away the sap. “How do you figure?”

“Your sister got sick, and it seems the first thing you did was embark on a perilous journey to seek a cure from a terrible beast that should, by all rights, kill you on sight rather than listen to your plea.” She turned her head, looking at Yang. “You’re either insane or incredibly brave.”

“I like to think it’s a bit of both.” The woman stood up and popped her back before crouching back down to continue her work. “But, yeah, that’s basically my story. From start to finish, not too thrilling a read, I guess. There’s a few moments that make it kinda worth it or whatever but, yeah. Nothing to put in the kingdom library or anything. What about you?”

“What about me?” She picked up the bear claw and touched it with her magic as well, changing its form slightly.

“Well, you have to have a story, too. A real one, not just a bunch of gossip strung together to make you sounds like a monster.”

The Dragon paused. For as many centuries as she’d lived, she’d never told anyone her ‘story’ as it were. Her True Name was likely stricken from the records of her family and any memory of her in Atlas was erased. “Truth be told, your story is far more interesting than mine. I was born in Atlas, in the ruins of the Circle, one of the last in a noble line. Were things different, I may have ruled over one of these mortal kingdoms- my elder sister was first in line to inherit the crown, to be Queen of the Circle. But without our birthright, my family struggled to find a new purpose. They eventually settled on vengeance.”

“They?”

“My sister and I weren’t part of this decision, nor my younger brother, and all those who might’ve come after me.” She carved another slice of meat from the bear, gathering up her little distractions into one claw for the meantime. Yang had almost finished with her scales and they had far to go. “I decided that starting another war would do us no good. Even if we retook the world, there’s too few Dragons left. We will eventually die out... so I fled Atlas, to live out my centuries in peace. Yet, try as I might, I can never go more than a few decades without being found by someone, beseeching me to use my magic, granting something to increase their own power... and in the meantime, I sleep.”

“What about your sister?” Either confusion or trepidation lingered in the woman’s voice, pausing in her work for a moment. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know. Perhaps she’s somewhere out there... perhaps not.” She sighed. “If she wanted me to find her, I would have centuries ago.”

“I’m sorry, Weiss.” 

She turned her head, noting the frown on Yang’s lips. “What are you apologizing for?”

“It’s just... I’m asking you to save my sister’s life and you haven’t seen yours in so long...“

“That’s hardly something you can control.”

“Still... I, well, when our mom died, I read from her storybook to help my sister fall asleep. That’s the only reason I know your legend at all...” Her expression turned a little sadder. “But, there were only three legends about Dragons in that book. The Great White Dragon, who granted wishes at a terrible price, the Dragon of the North, who demanded more and more tribute until the ancient kings rose up to destroy him, and the Iron Dragon, who forged the armor and weapons for the Great War. All the rest were... unnamed, I guess.”

The Dragon sighed. “I don’t expect mortals to know more about my kind than I do... and, frankly, there’s not much to tell, anyway. Don’t trouble yourself with it.”

“I have a friend- Blake, she’s a Faunus from Menagerie, she might know some different legends.”

“What use would more legends be?” 

Yang scrapped off the last of the sap, stowing her knife and supplies. “Well, I mean, maybe she knows of another Dragon out there. I mean, centuries by yourself... that’s a long time to go without someone to talk to.”

“We are solitary creatures by nature. It doesn’t trouble me,” she said, looking away even as she grabbed the slice of meat with her tail and passed it back to the Human. “If I wanted company, I would seek it out myself.”

“But-”

“Eat your breakfast,” she said, a slight growl at the edge of her words. “We’ve the rest of our voyage ahead.”

Weiss heard the inhalation and braced herself for further needling but, much to her surprise, the woman merely accepted the meat and ate it quietly and quickly. It seemed the only thing that could distract Yang was her sister’s well being.

They took to the sky, with the woman hanging on tightly to Weiss’ spikes as she soared above the clouds. Unlike the day before, Yang seemed far more enamored with flying, no complaints as to her queasy stomach as she called out to birds or leaned over to see how far they were from the ground. At first, it proved mildly distracting, but eventually the Dragon found that dipping low or arching high on the wind would pull a surprised laugh from Yang. Banking sharply, rolling in mid air, diving down only to skim along the tops of trees or water before shooting up into the sky again- she hadn’t done such mundane tricks since she’d first learned how to fly so many centuries ago, and the woman seemed just as amused as she was back then.

Eventually, though, the island came into view. Yang tapped against her neck, directing her towards the northern side of the island, where a single house stood in the middle of a clearing. Spreading her wings wind, Weiss glided down to land in front of the lone house, surprised when someone came running out the door, brandishing a sword.

“Blake! Blake, it’s okay!” Yang shouted, sliding down the Dragon’s side and helped along by her tail, hitting the ground on both feet and waving her arms. “It’s fine, Blake! Everything’s okay!”

“You show up riding a Dragon and everything’s supposedly okay?” The Faunus- the cat ears atop her head were pinned back against her raven mane, true, but visible all the same. “Wait, is- is that- is that-”

“The Great White Dragon?” The woman smiled, turning and waving an arm towards Weiss. “Yeah. Here, in the flesh.”

The Faunus slowly relaxed, her ears standing up tall as realization struck. “You actually did it.”

“I said I would.” Worry creased her brows, a frown touching her lips. “How’s Ruby?”

Tearing her amber eyes away from the Dragon’s form, Blake looked at her friend with a pained expression. “She’s getting worse, Yang. I... I’m not sure if she’s going to be strong enough.”

“Then I suppose we arrived in time,” Weiss said, seeing the mounting terror in Yang’s expression and opting to cut it short. Gathering her magic, she set aside the bear skin and claw, her scales shining brighter than the sun for a moment as her form shifted, condensing down until she’d taken on a Human appearance. Judging by the looks of awe mixed with surprise, she supposed shapeshifting had been left out of the legends regarding her, and most other Dragons. Frankly, aside from being smaller and less overtly formidable, she didn’t think she looked too different, retaining her striking blue eyes and scales becoming pale skin and white hair, dressed in a simple, flowing dress with long sleeves. “There. I suspect it will be easier to see your sister now.”

“Uh... yeah?” Yang stared, mouth slightly agape, until the Faunus elbowed her in the gut. “I mean, yes, right, uh, this way.”

The woman led the way into the house, which actually looked in good repair, all things considered. She could see the furniture built by the blonde’s hands, likely a skill she learned from her father, and the patches in the roof from several storms. True to her word, Yang’s home wasn’t much, but it felt... far more lived in than the den that held the Dragon’s horde, despite being inhabited for several centuries. She could see the marks in the wooden doorways with ages scratched next to them, chronicling the aging of Yang and her sister, and various knick knacks made by small, inexperienced hands and put on display like the most invaluable treasures.

For all that Dragons may have once ruled, they never came close to building the simple foundations that came so naturally to Humans and Faunus alike.

Blake trailed after them, obviously a tad anxious, until the trio came to a room with its door closed, weak coughing coming from within. For a moment, the woman hesitated, her shoulders slumping, but she straightened up and opened the door, brushing into the room with a fake smile on her lips.

“Hey, Rubes. Guess who’s back?”

“Yang.” The voice that answered her was small and weak, but still happy.

As Weiss entered the room, her gaze fell upon the child- and perhaps she wasn’t a child in age, but her frame looked small and frail, silver eyes dull and hair limply hanging around her gaunt face. Whatever illness had plagued her, it was siphoning away her very life, and it put a frown on the Dragon’s face.

Still, Yang smiled wider, a bit of genuine joy filling her expression as she knelt beside the bed. “Look at my big, strong little sister. Can you sit up?”

“Yep.” Ruby pushed herself up a little, just a tad bit higher on the pillow, and flashed a smile. “See?”

“That’s my sis.” Lilac eyes darted her way for a moment. “There’s... someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Oh, hi. I’m Ruby.” The girl looked at her, offering a slightly bigger smile, and it must’ve taken so much strength to do that much, yet she did. It seemed every member of Yang’s family put their all into everything, no matter what. It was a rather charming familial trait. “What’s your name?”

“Now, sis, you can’t just ask her name like that.” Yang leaned closer to the bed, a smirk on her lips as she whispered loudly. “Dragon’s names are powerful things, remember?”

“No way.” Ruby smiled just a bit wider. “You’re a Dragon? For real?”

“Indeed I am.” She let her eyes shift for a moment, flashing back to their usual reptilian appearance, and earned a gasp from the girl. Taking a few steps into the room, she sat on the edge of the bed. “And your sister has asked a boon of me. I’m here to see if I can heal you.”

“But... Yang-”

“Shush, Ruby. It’ll be alright.” Yang took her sister’s hand in hers and lied, with a smile on her lips. “I promise. Everything will be okay.”

Before the sisters could begin arguing, Weiss reached out, setting the tip of her finger in the middle of Ruby’s chest and seeking out the heart of the disease. From the moment she touched skin, she could tell that this was no ordinary illness at all; it was a dark, ancient sort of magic, one that couldn’t be erased with a snap of her fingers. The Dragon would have to draw it out, pulling the thick strands of foul magic from deep within the Human’s body. As she pulled her finger away, it followed, the dark sludge seemingly seeping out from the center of the girl’s chest to chase after her digit, flowing into the palm of her hand and eventually forming into a ball. After she’d pulled the disease out, Weiss put her other hand over Ruby’s chest, imparting a touch of her magic to fill in where the darkness had eaten away. As the illness solidified into a ball, trapped in a sphere by her magic, Weiss stood from the bed and began to exit the room.

“Ruby? Rubes?”

“Yang?” The girl’s breathless surprise sounded rather elated, especially when it was followed by the sisters laughing in genuine happiness for perhaps the first time in far too long. “Yang! I- I feel great!” The Dragon stopped at the doorway, turning her gaze back in time to see blankets thrown aside as the girl jumped at her big sister, the two embracing and laughing, with Blake joining in on the merriment a moment later. Happiness, joy, sharing of achievements and pain- companionship, no matter its form, proved to be the mortals’ greatest weapon of all. “I’m all better! Maybe I’ll be as strong as you now!”

“You are stronger than me, Rubes. I’ve always known that.” Yang laughed and cried, clutching at her sister, and the relief and happiness brought a smile to Weiss’ lips just before she slipped out of the room and the house.

She resumed her normal form, the tiny ball that had almost filled her hand now nothing more than a grain between her claws. With a mighty flap of her wings, she took to the sky and pointed her way towards the sea, flicking the little ball of darkness out to be lost to its depths. Perhaps, in time, her magic would no longer be able to contain it, but it would grow weak without a host to feed off, and ancient magic like that didn’t do well without mortals or Dragons around to leech from anyway. Her task complete, she came back down to the ground in time for the three occupants of the house to join her outside.

“I guess that’s one wish granted, huh?” Yang’s smile dimmed slightly, glancing at her sister bringing back the brightness, the younger woman standing hardly as tall as her shoulders. They looked nothing alike, honestly, with one being blonde and muscular while the other had darker locks running with red and the frame of a sprinter, but in their smiles she could see the family resemblance, one of the elder sibling’s hands coming to rest on the younger’s shoulder. “This is the first time Ruby’s been out of bed in almost a year.”

“I feel better than ever!” Ruby looked up at the Dragon, wonder and boundless energy twining together in her every motion and word. “I bet I could wrestle you!”

“I’m sure you could,” Weiss replied, her lips pulling into a small smile.

For a moment, silence fell between them, but then Yang stepped forward. “So, I guess... it’s time for payment.”

“Payment?” Ruby’s brows furrowed, looking between her sister and the Dragon. “Yang, you said those stories were just stories-”

“Ruby-”

“No, no you can’t-” Silver eyes turned on Weiss, shining so bright with tears yet to fall. “Please, Great Dragon, you can’t take my sister-”

“Ruby, please-”

“Ruby,” Blake said, coming up behind the smaller of the two women and wrapping her arms around her, holding her still. “Yang knows what she’s doing.”

“But-”

“I have to pay the price.” The woman looked up, defiant and proud as ever. “That was our deal.”

“Indeed it was,” Weiss said, flames gathering on her tongue. She took a single step forward, craning her neck over the woman’s form and opening her jaws wide, allowing the blue fire to pour from her mouth and swirl around Yang’s frame. When they’d left her den the day before, she hadn’t yet decided how she would take her payment, but that morning had given her an idea. Now, she’d followed through with it... but not totally, and as the flames died out, her jaw snapping shut with finality, the Dragon made her decision. “There.”

Yang stood, shaking, staring at her arms where the flames had caught but not burned, because that was never Weiss’ intention. She flexed her fingers, rotated her wrists, and looked herself over, but seemed no closer to any conclusion at all. “What... happened?”

“The disease that nearly killed your sister took from her more than words can say. Had I merely taken the illness away, she would’ve died for all it had eaten,” the Dragon said, lowering her back legs until she sat before them, tail swirling around her claws. “I gave her some of my magic to keep her alive. Ruby Xiao Long-”

“Rose.” The girl piped up, ducking her head slightly. “My, uh, my name’s Ruby Rose.”

“... Ruby Rose, then.” She briefly recalled Yang mentioning they had different mothers but honestly couldn’t understand Human naming conventions to save her life. Regardless, she continued. “You have my magic in you, sustaining you, and you will live much longer than your fellow Humans because of it. You may even live as long as the Faunus do.” Blue eyes shifted from the girl to her sister. “Yang Xiao Long. Saving your sister’s life is more a punishment than a boon without someone to spend that time with, so I have given you some of my magic as well. You are both Dragonkin now- with some of the vast powers I possess now at your disposal. You are stronger, faster, and this will help you make up for lost time.” She reached over, picking up the bear pelt and claw and dropping them into Yang’s shaking arms. “I also leave you with these- this pelt with protect you from cold and heat, from arrow and sword, and this claw is now the strongest of weapons, worn just like your gauntlets.”

“Weiss?” The woman looked up at her, confusion showing plain in lilac eyes. “I- I don’t understand. I... I can’t- there’s nothing I have to pay the price for all this.”

“I decide the price,” she said, lifting her head high into the air. The Dragon turned, spreading her wings wide and preparing to leave. “And I’ve decided... you’ve already paid it.”

Originally, she hadn’t decided what she would demand of the woman for completing the task set before her. That morning, when Yang was bent over and scraping sap from her scales, she’d decided that having some company in her lonely den wouldn’t be so bad, and a Dragonkin could live nearly as long as herself, especially with her nearby to keep the magic strong. 

But after seeing the sisters together, and with this Faunus friend of theirs... Dragons had wrought enough damage upon the world. She wouldn’t break up yet another family to serve her own ends. Yang had the heart of a Dragon- proud and stubborn, but kinder than her size should allow- so it only made sense to give her the strength and form of one as well.

But she wouldn’t mention that. She would take the memories of being out in the world again and their conversations as payment enough and be done with it.

“Farewell.” She crouched low, taking one last look behind her at the shocked trio she was leaving behind, before taking off.

On the island below, she could see the people scrambling, her earlier landing causing a slight panic in the village proper, but she would be long gone by the time they arrived at Yang’s home. If the trio were smart, they’d convince the villagers they’d seen nothing at all, merely a trick of the mind; otherwise, she’d given them the necessary tools to survive a few locals causing trouble.

Weiss flew back to her den in the south, alone, and didn’t bother stopping or hunting on the trip.

Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months, while the Dragon lay atop her horde and sighed deeply. Sleep would not come to her as easily as it once had, instead remaining just out of reach as time marched on slowly, each hour filled with nothing but the shifting of coins and metal as she tried getting comfortable. Yet, Weiss remained wide awake and downtrodden, listlessly laying about her cave, tail tucked as tightly around her body as she could get it with her neck craned all the way around, so she could lay her head on her hip. As small as possible, and it matched her mood rather well.

That was the problem with allowing herself to be awoken. Inevitably, she would find herself distracted by whatever little curiosities the mortals would bring with them, sleep eluding her as fanciful daydreams invaded her mind. She could take Human form or even that of a Faunus and live among them for a time... but it would be nothing more than a brief foray in the grand scheme of things. Even lengthening the lifespans of those around her would eventually draw suspicion, and soon war would follow, and it was just easier to remove herself from the world. She’d hatched too late to be part of the days when Dragons ruled and being born a Dragon at all precluded her from the new world left in her kind’s wake. It would be better if she just stayed in her den, tucked away from everyone, and lived out her days in quiet solitude... in lonely misery.

The scrabbling of claws against stone caught her attention but she didn’t care. Perhaps it was her sister finally come for her, perhaps her father, perhaps some other Dragon who’d managed to survive all these years as she had come to take her horde... it didn’t matter. If she could not sleep to pass the time... perhaps it had come time for her to pass.

Her guest must’ve reached the mouth of the cave, the sounds ceasing save for the final whump of some sort of large fabric hitting the ground.

“I understand you’ve got a whole tradition thing going but... I’m still not sure I get the appeal of a cave.”

Weiss furrowed her brows, feeling as though the voice was familiar despite never hearing it before. Curious, she lifted her head and looked towards the mouth of her den. 

There, standing just inside her den, was another dragon, with gleaming golden scales and wings spread wide, even larger than Weiss’ own wingspan. Unlike her, the newcomer had two tone scales, orange spread throughout her underbelly, and the spikes along her jaw and back were of the same color. Although she hadn’t seen enough to truly have any frame of reference, she had to admit the other Dragon seemed rather... handsome, she supposed would be the proper word. A striking visage, one that didn’t so much as inspire territorial rage as... awe. She looked beautiful.

“I thought having a new perspective on the second go ‘round would make something just click but... no. It really doesn’t.” The Dragon stepped closer, lips curling into an eerily familiar smile as lilac eyes caught the light streaming in from overhead.

Weiss’ brows furrowed as she uncurled, entirely unbelieving of what she saw before her. “... Yang?”

The other Dragon- or Dragonkin, to be more precise, nodded. “You could’ve told me you gave me shapeshifting magic, by the way. I would’ve been here sooner.”

“Why are you here at all?” She got up, taking a few steps closer, still half certain this was all a dream, that perhaps she had fallen into a slumber and her mind seemed fit to torture her further. “What of Ruby? And Blake?”

“They’re back home, safe, healthy, and quite happy I might add.” Yang brought her wings in close to her body and stepped closer, lowering her head. “I didn’t run off without telling them, if that’s what you’re thinking. And flying made the trip a lot easier.” She looked away briefly, her focus apparently breaking as her form shifted back to Human. Draped over her shoulders was the bear skin and the claw gauntlet was affixed to her right wrist, and her clothing certainly looked in better repair than their first meeting, but it was still Yang looking up at her with those lilac eyes. “I’ve come to make another wish.”

Weiss blew out a breath through her nose, disappointed in herself for thinking, even briefly, that the Dragonkin had returned for any other reason. “You have magic of your own, now. You can grant your own wishes.”

“Not this one- I need you for it.” Defiant as ever, Yang stood before her with that determined glint in her eye. “I wish for you to return to Patch with me.”

The Dragon just stared at her. “Why?”

“Because centuries are really long- too long to be holed up in a cave by yourself.” A frown touched Yang’s lips. “You saved my sister, and gave both of us amazing powers... and then just left. After how badly everyone else has taken advantage of you, you gave us more than we could’ve imagined, and then... disappeared.” The frown deepened. “You didn’t even let me say goodbye.”

“You had a life before your journey. I let you return to it.”

“It’s not that simple.” The Dragonkin looked at her bearskin and claw. “Look, I’ve been around for a while...” She paused, taking into account her audience. “Okay, maybe not as long as you-”

“If that’s a slight against my age, you’re not doing yourself any favors.”

“Comparatively, I’ve still been around long enough to know a few things, okay? And I know no one wants to spend all their time alone.” 

“I’m a Dragon.”

“And I’m now one too, right? Or, part one, anyway.” Yang’s stubbornness was shining through rather well. “And I haven’t felt the sudden urge to squirrel myself away from the world for months on end, so, I’m pretty sure that’s not a ‘Dragon only’ thing.”

“Why are you suddenly so concerned about my well being?”

“Technically, I’ve been concerned about your well being since the beginning,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Weiss opened her mouth, preparing to argue back, but... that... was actually a good point. “Is this a Human thing?”

“Pretty sure it’s a ‘Yang’ thing... or maybe a ‘Xiao Long’ thing, not sure.” The Dragonkin sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Look... I missed you, okay? I spent six months looking for a great and terrible beast, and I found you instead- someone who’s kind, and caring, and maybe more than a little misunderstood in the grand scheme of things- then you whisked me back home to save my sister. I barely got any time to get to know you and you just... left... and that’s even less time now that I’m going to outlive most mortals, right? So... I...” Yang took a few steps back. “Okay, I’m not going to wish for it, because you don’t have to, but I’d really like it if you came back to Patch with me. I dug out a new cave for you and everything, just a few miles down the coastline on the mainland, so you can still be by yourself, if you want. Then it wouldn’t take a day and a half just to visit.”

Blue eyes drifted up to the fabric Yang must’ve dropped when she entered the den. “And what’s that for?”

“To transfer all... that.” She gestured towards the Dragon’s horde. “I figured you’d want to bring it with you.”

Weiss looked down at the Dragonkin, who matched her gaze evenly. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You’re asking me to move my horde to a cave closer to your home because you... missed me?”

“Yeah, that’s basically it.” She nodded. “So... what do you say?”

It probably should’ve taken her longer to answer than she did, because the words left her mouth immediately.

It took two trips to transfer her entire horde, mostly because she didn’t want to overtax the Dragonkin’s new form. Apparently, it had taken her quite some time to teach herself to fly, and Ruby hadn’t figured out how to transform yet, so she was on her own in that department. Blake had written down Yang’s story about her trip to meet the Great White Dragon, and now it was the most popular version of the tale. Already, depictions of a white dragon were said to bring good fortune rather than ill omens. Weiss couldn’t imagine the surprise when the villagers of Patch learned about their new neighbor.

The new den was... big. It shouldn’t have surprised her- Yang’s Draconic form was quite larger than hers, after all- but it certainly felt a lot more empty than her old one did... but only sometimes. Because, while Yang would spend her time on Patch during the day, carving furniture or clearing fields, she would fly back to Weiss’ den at night. They would talk and eat meals together, sometimes involving the stories of where the treasures in her horde came from and other times Yang would recount stories from her childhood. Then again, sometimes Weiss would fly to Patch, and watch Yang work or help her, visit with Ruby and Blake, take a meal in the small house with the others.

Time passed slower now, but in a good way. She slept during the night, sometimes with Yang curled up beside her and light trails of smoke billowing from her nostrils while, other times, they would use a soft, fluffy ‘mattress’ in their Human forms. 

Weiss learned much in the months that followed, and she learned just as much from the stories Yang told as the questions she asked. At first, it all seemed innocent- learning more about Dragons and her side of the stories so often told in Vale- but then things turned more... odd, she would say. Finally, Yang stopped trying to be subtle and flat out asked if she looked good as a Dragon, if the new form made her appear attractive. Weiss thought it simply a bit of vanity- and she had to admit, she could be susceptible to such as well- and indulged her, giving her honest opinion. She couldn’t quite understand why that made Yang so happy... until she learned that the Dragonkin had been rather blown away by her Human form. 

Eventually, it was Blake who told both of them that they might as well be dating, all things considered, and while the concept didn’t quite apply to Dragons, Weiss could admit she didn’t mind that particular part of mortal culture. That, apparently, was all the go ahead Yang needed to begin courting her in earnest, and she did so in every way imaginable- by the customs of Humans and Dragons and even Faunus, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings at all.

As they laid down together at the end of a particularly long day, both curled up atop the horde- because it had become harder to think of these things as hers, exclusively, when she shared so much with Yang, and when Yang shared so much with her- Weiss began to think that, maybe, the world could do without Dragons... but perhaps it could do with a few more Dragonkin. It would require an ancient sort of magic, the kind that she had no need for before, but as Yang- her friend, her lover, her mate- shuffled closer to her, twining their tales together and nosing her way beneath the white Dragon’s neck so their heads could rest side-by-side, she thought it might be nice to indulge.

For one who’d spent centuries in solitude, she’d grown fond of having company. 

“Yang,” she said, hoping to catch the Dragonkin before she’d dropped off into a deep slumber.

“Hmmm?”

“Has anyone begged a wish of you yet?”

Her brow furrowed, yellow scales shifting in a decidedly more human version of the expression. “No?”

“May I be the first?”

She chuckled, murmuring softly. “Sure. What’s your wish?”

“I wish for offspring,” she said, a mischievous smile on her lips that grew wider as one lilac eye snapped open.

“You mean kids, right? Children?” She could feel the restless energy running through Yang’s form, all thoughts of sleeping abandoned for the moment. When Weiss nodded, she smiled wide. “Okay, but there’s a price to pay!”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“If we do this, we raise ‘em the Human way. No leaving them in some forest for two decades to see if they’ll survive.”

Already, she could imagine the panic infecting the Dragonkin’s voice when she was eventually faced with the very terrifying prospect of a young Dragon accidentally setting fire to everything around them but realized that, as a mortal woman, Yang had traveled half a world away to find her and hadn’t been deterred. She would stubbornly hold a baby Dragon even as it deliberately set fire to her and never think to complain, just to prove a point. She still hadn’t decided if it was more brave or insane. “Very well. We’ll do things your way.”

Yang immediately moved her head, rubbing their faces together in an affectionate gesture. “We’re going to make great parents.”

“I think you’re right,” she replied. “But remember this conversation in about... five years or so.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

It seemed her price would have a price all its own. Frankly, she looked forward to it.

Author’s Note: If you’re wondering why it took a touch to turn Ruby into a Dragonkin, meanwhile Yang had to have fire breathed on her... the literal goddamn answer is Weiss wanted to be dramatic. *spreads hands* Sometimes, I swear I don’t control them. But, I also like to think that, while Ruby basically got her body and soul reinforced with Weiss’ magic, Yang got a damn near full conversion, hence the differing methods (also the main reason Ruby hasn’t figured out how to shapeshift yet).

[cubedcoffeecake]

Ek, Loki

Ek, Loki I, Loki

Chapter One

It wasn’t as warm as it should be. Loki frowned slightly and pushed an eyelid open, his curiosity the only reason he was able to do so. His body felt like molasses. He had tried molasses on Midgard once. Did not care for it at all. Still did not. Wait, was not he trying to do something?

This time Loki managed to actually open his eye enough to see out of it. There was—white. A lot of it, in fact. With greys and blues blurred in. He must be more exhausted than he originally supposed. Hmmm… And wasn’t Asgard gold? Not even the healing ward possessed this much white. It was a bit of white with a lot of gold. So was Moðir’s, actually. Thor’s were a bit of crimson with a lot of gold, and his were green with a lot of gold.

Yes, he was not doing terribly well. If Loki’s sporadic thought process was not information enough to reach that conclusion, the pounding in his head as he attempted to sit was. Certainly, he had had headaches before. Only Æsir he had ever met to have such a mortal condition, but he had them from time to time. Had his headaches ever ached so much, though?

Loki collapsed back onto the fluffy… fluffy, while not being uncomfortably fluffy. What was this? He wanted one.

Anyhow, he collapsed back onto the bed he had woken upon and froze. No, none of the Æsir he had known had ever had a headache. But he wasn’t an Æsir.

In seconds Loki was standing beside his cot, the aching of his body pushed aside and his mind sharply activated. It was no bed he had been placed on, but a simple ice-work frame filled with packed snow. Loki tried to forget that it was the most comfortable bed he had ever laid on, but his mind decided it had followed enough of his orders for the time being and promptly slowed again, leaving him to count up every type of substance he had ever slept on.

As an infant, he likely slept on a cot of phoenix feathers inside a lavish cradle. His childhood bed had been stuffed with fleece from Asgard’s finest flocks. As a youth, he began to travel. A yarn-stuffed cot on Vanaheim (my, had that been an experience), an Elven bed made of wood, and a Dwarven bed of metal. Once in the army, rocks, dirt, moss, tunics, and once, water he had magicked to hold his weight.

“Why are you sitting on the floor?”

Loki jerked his head up, eyes wide, and saw a small, very blue boy standing in a doorway he had not noticed. He was feeling quite foolish for that lapse of awareness until his head began to pound again and he recalled why he had been unaware.

“Helgi! That is no way to address a stranger!”

Blinking dazedly, Loki observed that a woman had come up behind the boy. Huh.

“And see, look at his eyes. He is clearly injured. Do you not recall what your Aunt showed you?” the woman asked, sounding quite distressed. Loki wondered why. Maybe he could help?

“I do remember, Moðir! When somebody’s eyes are all sleety, it means their head hurts and you should give them some meðal. Can I go get some from Aunt?”

The woman sighed. “Yes, Helgi. Remember your manners!” she finished as the boy darted off. “I do not believe I have ever heard unfocused eyes referred to as “sleety.” He certainly is a creative young boy.” The woman’s murmuring softened as she turned and approached him. Or maybe his hearing was departing? Loki thought that possible, though he could not recall why.

“Sir, would you like me to help you back onto the bed?” The woman sounded kind. Perhaps he should accept her aid. And she was quite attractive as well. Odd, that, considering she was blue. The blue was even odder. And the tribal markings were the oddest. Vanir marked their bodies similarly, but only for festivals. Was Loki on this Realm to attend a festival? Well, he would not mind so much if all the women were similar to this one. He could see intelligence in her red eyes—red? Huh—and would bet she could carry on an interesting conversation. Perhaps she could even tell Loki why his head hurt so.

She sighed. Again. Did she sigh as often as Thor shattered mugs, or more? Or perhaps she was simply in the mood to sigh.

“Mmp!” Loki exclaimed in surprise. When had the woman bent down? Why was she trying to pull him up? He liked the floor just fine. And why was she so cool? Normally Loki found others to be quite warm, but her touch was almost cold.

“Sir, I am not strong enough to lift you entirely by myself. You must help me as much as you are able. Sir? Sir, are you well? Ah, Helgi, thank you. I believe I underestimated his injuries—sir! Sir, do not fall asleep. It will be dangerous in your condition—sir! Helgi, hurry, fetch the most knowledgeable healer you can find. This man needs assistance beyond my capabilities. Sir, stay awake a moment longer. You must drink this. It will help your head. Sir? Can you hear me? Sir?”

Her voice registered, but Loki could not understand what it was she said. He was delightfully cool, his head did not hurt as much now, though there was a substantial amount more molasses, and… Oh. Drink. His throat was quite dry, now that he thought about it. And the liquid was just warm enough to be pleasant, and so very sweet…

“Aid! Hurry! He is falling asleep! I need aid!”

This time, Loki was far more aware when he woke. He had seen himself cast from Asgard a thousand times as he slept, and realized where he was and who had cared for him the moment he awoke.

Fortunately, the room he was in was empty when he woke up. Swiftly, Loki sat up and assessed his situation. The Jotunn must not realize who he was, or they would never have aided him. He was in hostile territory still, but that was an advantage. They would likely have placed him in a regular healing room rather than a cell.

Loki had had nothing with him when he was cast to Jotunheim, so he would be able to leave unburdened. Once he had escaped… Well, he would manage. It would be better than inside this compound, at the least.

Quietly, Loki stalked out the door of the room he had been placed in and began to creep in the shadows along the walls of the twisting passage he found. Every so often Loki would come upon a doorway or another passageway, but he resolutely continued to follow the passage he had first entered.

After a quarter hour, Loki finally heard voices. A negative thing, really, but he may be able to follow them to an exit. He called upon his magic and murmured a spell of invisibility. Moments later, he entered a cavernous room, just as empty as the rest of the compound but for a long table in the room’s center. Loki was unimpressed, to say the least. The table appeared to be fashioned out of rotting wood hastily tied together with string. It was hardly a table at all.

Clearly it was used as one, though, for a dozen Jotunn lined its sides, talking to one other in hushed tones. Well, mostly hushed.

One Jotun raised his voice to be heard by all at the table.

“I care not if it would be a cruelty! That creature inhabiting our healing room is a son of Laufey! There is no mistaking his marks! Bekkhild declared his origins before all of you, and yet you still allow her to tend to him! He is the son of a monster who would have us all fed to his beasts! And you allow his son into our nest? The monstrosity will run right to his father and disclose our location, and I, for one, have no interest in allowing Laufey’s army to hunt us down like the snow birds!”

The room was silent for many moments after the Jotun’s declaration, which Loki supposed was a positive thing. His mind was roaring so loudly he would not have heard a word said if they had been speaking.

They knew he was a son of Laufey, the ridges were apparently patriarchal symbols, which he could use to his advantage if he learned how to decode them, they did not know Laufey was dead, they apparently hated Laufey, they did not revere their army as the Æsir did, and they had shown him kindness despite believing him to be a no-good rat who may cause their deaths.

…Loki was not certain which piece of that information was the most difficult to wrap his head around.

He did not have the time to decide, because a softer, but far firmer, more noble voice spoke up.

“Atli, you know well we all share your concerns. However, you also know that if we killed the man, son of Laufey or son of Bekkhild, we would be committing murder all the same. He was severely wounded, and unable to tell us of his intentions. If we were to kill based off of assumptions, we would be no better than the Æsir, or even than Laufey. We have no cause to live for if not the cause of those such as him. Left by Laufey in the snow to die. Whether he was left as a sickness, to destroy us from the inside, or because Laufey assumed we would kill him is undeterminable simply by looking at the situation. Simply looking at the situation, he is a victim of Laufey’s cruelty, not a perpetrator of it, and in your heart you know that. You are letting your fear cloud your judgment, Atli.”

Once more, the room was quiet, and once more, Loki’s mind was not.

Left by Laufey in the snow to die. Left by Laufey in the snow to die. Left by Laufey in the snow to die. Left by Laufey in the snow to die.

Why did every barbed word have to hurt him like it did? Why could he not be Thor? Blissfully overconfident and immune to mere words?

Left by Laufey in the snow to die. Left by Laufey in the snow to die.

“I apologize, Helblindi. The resemblance of this man’s situation to your brother’s had not occurred to me.” Atli sighed and fixed his gaze on the table. “I suppose Byleist is the only one who will ever match up to your father’s expectations.”

Helblindi smiled slightly. Had Loki ever seen a Jotun smile? He did not think so.

It did not look as strange on the man’s blue skin as Loki had expected it to.

“Atli, no son will ever live up to his father’s expectations. That is why so many fathers leave for Laufey’s army.” The table started laughing. Loki did not see the joke in Helblindi’s statement, but did not care that he missed it.

Left by Laufey in the snow to die.

Loki did not have one brother, but four. Or three. Well, three biological. One was dead, another was likely evil, and the third standing before him had not caused Loki to dislike him yet, but likely would sooner or later.

“Helblindi, Atli, you have shown that we should not kill him before he is well—but what should we do with him then?” another Jotun asked. Loki snapped his gaze back to the Jotunn around the table. This answer would control a great deal of his short term future.

“Well,” Helblindi replied, “I would say we should speak to him and see how he came to be where we found him. From there, we can either chain him somewhere, or… I feel as if I am being too optimistic to suppose he would willingly help us, but perhaps we can coexist with him if he means us no ill will.”

The Jotunn murmured their agreement, and Loki’s breath caught.

He could sneak back to the room they had put him in, weave a story about himself, and earn their trust, and through their trust, their supplies. However, he did not know enough about Jotun culture to guarantee that his story would hold up to scrutiny….

He could flee this place and take care of himself….

Or he could reveal who he actually was. So far he had not felt a single tingle of magick. If the Jotunn had no mages with them, his magick would give him an advantage, and he could hold far more power over his situation than he would any other way….

Loki straightened his back and made a decision.

“I would be interested in knowing what precisely I would be helping you with before agreeing to do so. Coexisting, however, sounds quite lovely. I was not looking forward to living off of Jotunheim’s ‘land.’”

All of the eyes in the room were on Loki as he unwove his cloaking spell and made himself visible.

[sage-nebula]

for the ocean meme ask, if you haven't gotten these already, sails, breakers, seafoam, coral, nymph, brine, coastline!

sails: describe your perfect partner.

Oh man . . . okay.

So, first and foremost, they’re going to be someone who is on my level, comfort-wise---someone who is perfectly happy just sitting around, browsing the internet on two separate laptops, or watching an anime or playing a game. Someone who doesn’t care if I’m just in comfy clothes, someone who is completely comfortable wearing comfy clothes around me, too. Someone who isn’t judgmental or super social, someone who understands the need for “me time” because they’re introverted, too. But at the same time, someone whose introversion isn’t infringed upon by living with me, and vice versa. They need to be someone I can live with, someone I can be comfortable with, someone that is fine with me just being . . . me, who isn’t embarrassed by me or embarrassed in front of me.

To that end, they need to be someone who isn’t self-conscious about nerdy things, or being silly. Someone who can laugh at themselves, and can also laugh with me when I do something dumb, and am laughing because I know they’re not actually looking down on me for it. This kind of goes with the above, but I want someone who is into a lot of the same things I am, or even if we’re not into exactly the same things, we can appreciate the things the other is a fan of without rolling eyes or looking down on it. I want to have hobbies in common, but I also want my partner to appreciate my hobbies even if they don’t share them, and vice versa. And, of course, they need to be someone I can laugh with, someone I can joke around with. They need to have a sense of humor.

They need to be smart. I’m not talking rocket science level, or even several degrees level, necessarily, but we need to be intellectual equals. We have to be able to discuss important things and be on the same level when talking about them. And I feel like that makes me sound like an asshole, but it’s just . . . hard . . . to have a relationship with someone that you’re not on the same level with. Along those lines, though, they can’t be pretentious dickweeds, either to myself or others. I can’t stand pretentiousness. That sort of affected superiority grates on me more than anything else. So while my partner needs to be smart (more specifically, intellectually equal to me), they also can’t be pretentious about how smart they are. 

Related, but they also have to be open to learning. Even if we’re intellectual equals, we might each know something the other doesn’t, and no matter how smart we are, there’s always room to learn and grow. So they have to be open-minded, they can’t be closed off from learning new things, can’t be so sure they already know everything. And building on that, they have to be open and accepting of others as well. I don’t believe in living in an echo chamber, but I could never have a partner who was racist, sexist, homophobic, et cetera. We have to agree on issues of civil liberties, or it’s not going to work, full stop. 

They have to like animals at the bare minimum, and especially dogs, because they have to be accepting of and willing to live with Morgan. She’s not going anywhere for the sake of any human. They can’t be a neat freak, because I’m a messy person, but at the same time they can’t be dirty either, because I’m not dirty---I’m just messy. So they have to have that balance between the two extremes, and they have to be OK with that balance, too. They also need to be financially aware; being completely irresponsible with money is a no-no. Money is important, and so are finances, and we have to be able to keep a good check on that. (Though if they are willing to clean while I keep track of the finances, that’s a good balance, too.)

Lastly, it would be nice if they were also ace, or at the very least if they were perfectly okay with not having sex often . . . or at all, and also not making out a whole lot because to be incredibly honest, I’ve tried kissing multiple times, and beyond chaste kisses it’s just . . . not for me. I find it gross. And while I’m not sure that I’m entirely sex repulsed (at least, I’m not when it comes to conversations and fiction and whatnot), it’s . . . not something I’m eager to participate in, so . . . while I want a romantic partner, and someone to cuddle with, it’d be nice if they weren’t that into sex, either. At the very least, they have to respect that I’m ace. That’s non-negotiable. It’s a really important thing.

So . . . yeah. All of those things together make up my ideal partner. My dream is that it’s not asking too much and I could find someone like this someday, but that’s . . . probably a long shot, haha.

breakers: would you ever consider getting married?

Honestly . . . no. Not unless I was in a committed relationship and my partner really, really, really wanted to.

The thing about marriage is that it’s a legal process. It’s a contract. It’s a very expensive contract that is equally as expensive to break. There are benefits to it---you can file together on taxes, for instance, and get some tax breaks there---but for the most part I feel like the costs are more than the benefits, outside of situations like green card marriages (which, after the election, I briefly considered in a panic as a way to go somewhere that’s not America, but honestly there are less expensive ways to accomplish emigration, so that idea has been dashed). If you love someone, you don’t have to get married to prove it. You don’t need rings, a ceremony, or a contract to prove it, especially when more than 50% of marriages end in divorce (which is similarly expensive). I think that the important thing is the commitment, and you don’t need to spend so much money to commit to someone. Commitment is something you do in feelings and words, not huge, expensive ceremonies. So marriage isn’t really my thing, and I’d probably only agree to it if I was really, truly in love with someone and it was something that was important to them.

seafoam: describe your ideal summer vacation.

Hah, I’m an adult, so I don’t get these anymore, sadly. But ideally, just lots of time able to sleep and wake at any time I want, and maybe going somewhere cool. Outside of the country I’d love to go to Japan (of course), or back to Italy. Inside the country, I still really want to go to Harry Potter world. Why are all of the vacation packages so expensive?!

coral: if you had to describe your personality as a food, what would you be and why?

Hmmm . . . probably a dark chocolate candy bar, because I am either sweet or bitter (or both) depending on who you ask, and I feel like opinions about me are usually pretty strong (i.e. you either can’t stand me or you like me, typically no in-between).

nymph: old-fashioned or modern decor?

By and large, modern! Especially when it’s a mixture of like, shiny black and white/clear furniture. My living room furniture is pretty modern. I really like the aesthetic.

But that said, I also like some wooden furniture sometimes, especially if it’s in a dark wood. My bedroom furniture is like this, as is the desk I have. So if that counts as old fashioned, then that, but generally I prefer more modern pieces.

brine: gold or silver?

Silver! I’ve always preferred silver to gold, by far, probably because I’ve always had a distaste for the color yellow, and gold is in that same family. (Not that I hate gold, but just, if I have a choice, I’m going to go for silver.) It . . . makes finding Gryffindor things a bit difficult, given that gold is one of the Gryffindor colors, heh. 

coastline: what is your favourite flower?

This might seem odd since I have delayed sleep phase disorder and thus cannot wake up early to save my life (I’m either still up at the rise of dawn or dead to the world), but blue morning glories! They’re so pretty they hardly look real. I love them. ♥ Thanks for asking!!

[mrsteveecook]

candidate was arrested for peeing in public, am I being too helpful, and more

It’s five answers to five questions. Here we go…

1. What should I do about a candidate with an arrest for urinating in public?

A candidate recently applied who is decently qualified and who, normally, I would phone screen without a second thought. After googling the candidate, we found a record in the local newspaper that this candidate was arrested a number of years ago for disorderly conduct and urinating on a building.

How would you move forward? Would you automatically rule them out? If you did decide to move forward with them, how would you address it on the phone call? I know it is illegal in my state to ask about a criminal record but in this situation where it’s public knowledge, we’re not really sure what to do.

Who among us has not urinated in public at some point? Let she who has not peed cast the first stone.

Okay, I suppose a lot of people haven’t. But if you found out that one of your current employees had peed on a building once years ago, would you question their suitability for their job now? The only difference here is that this candidate had the bad luck to get arrested for it.

Yes, people should not urinate on buildings. And yet, it’s a thing that happens, often by otherwise abiding citizens (late at night, on the way home, in desperate circumstances). This is not likely to interfere with this person’s performance at work; it’s not a sign that they’ll urinate in the CEO’s office or anything like that.

Arrests are not “do not hire” me signs. They’re just information about someone’s past. In this case, the information — a minor misdemeanor from years ago — is irrelevant. Ignore it.

2. Should I stop being so helpful?

I’m known as the go-to person for help on my team. That doesn’t only apply to people in my department — I’m also known outside my department for being knowledgable, helpful, and willing to assist. My manager has told me that other teams/depts managers have told him that I’m a great asset and they appreciate what I do for them. I like to be helpful, and I like to feel like I am contributing in more ways than just my job description … most of the time.

Probably four out of five days per week, I am more than willing to put my work on hold to help other people with theirs, but on that fifth day I just can’t. Sometimes it’s because I actually do need to work on my assignments so that I don’t fall behind, but a lot of times it’s because I’ve just had enough of trying to teach people how to do things or research problems that they’re having. There is a (rotating) on-call person on my team each week who should be fielding these requests, but 1) other departments don’t know who that person is without asking someone and 2) that person typically would take significantly longer than me to solve the problem. Therefore, I kind of feel guilty redirecting requests to someone I know is going to struggle with them.

Is it okay for me to say “I can’t help with that today” when really I can? Should I feel bad for redirecting people to the on-call person, knowing that person is going to have a hard time with the task? Am I allowed to just ignore chat messages from people if I know they’re going to ask me for something that I can’t deal with today? Should I just rein in on all my helpfulness to try to reframe people’s idea of my availability?

If there’s an on-call person charged with fielding these questions, you should mostly direct people to that person. That’s the system your company has set up, and you shouldn’t overrule it. By overruling it, you’re potentially keeping the on-call people from getting better at solving problems themselves (which takes practice), and you might be covering up an actual problem your company needs to address (like better training). You’re also allocating your time differently than your company has asked you to. Plus, constantly interrupting your own work might have consequences you don’t see — like maybe you’re good at your job now but you’d be great at it if you had more uninterrupted space to focus. (And “focus” isn’t just about not breaking your train of thought. It’s also about having expanses of time to just step back and think and reflect on how you might do something new or better or differently.)

That’s not to say there’s no room for individual judgment, which is why I said you should “mostly” send them to the on-call person rather than “always.” Of course you can step in when someone is desperate or you’re looking for a break or so forth. But your default shouldn’t be to ignore the system your company has for this.

So yes, you can and should say, “I can’t help with that today, but Jane is on call for questions and she should be able to.” More here.

3. Employees spending time starting up/winding down

I have an issue with two employees. They both work 8-4. The first employee often comes through the door often a couple of minutes after 8 and then proceeds to make a drink for himself and others. He is a very nice guy and nothing is too much trouble and often works the odd five mins past his finish time. The second one arrives early to avoid traffic but then reads a book until bang on 8 am but then starts packing up around 3:45 and is through the door around 3.58 without fail.

You might think my issues are petty and not worth bringing up with them but it really rankles with me. Surely if their working hours are 8-4, then they should actually start work at 8 and finish at 4 before getting their coats, etc. on. Or are they entitled to some form of “washing up time”?

In general, you don’t want to nickel and dime good employees. How much time is the first employee (the one for whom nothing is too much trouble) spending making a drink for himself and others? Assuming it’s 5-10 minutes, let it go. If he was doing the same thing at 2 in the afternoon, presumably it wouldn’t bother you and you’d consider that part of a normal work day.

But the second person sounds like he’s nickeling and diming you and is ending his work day 15 minutes early every day. The nuance there is different, and it’s reasonable to say to him, “Would you wait until your work day ends before you start packing up?” (Although if he’s stellar at his work, consider letting it go unless it’s causing any actual problems.)

4. What should my references include?

Thanks to your stellar advice, I just got a job interview. I haven’t had to interview outside my current employer for over a decade, so I haven’t had to use references since I was in grad school.

Two of my three former managers have changed roles and/or companies since I worked for them and I’m unsure how to indicate this on my references. Do I include their current title and employer as well as their title and employer when I worked for them? Do I need to indicate when and how long I worked for them, similar to a resume format? I’ve read a lot of advice about choosing references but not a lot about how to lay them out.

The most important info to include is their connection to you — so usually that will mean the employer name and their title from when you worked together. But if they’ve since moved on, you can make a note about that too. Info on how long you worked together can be really helpful, although it’s fine if you don’t include that (but I definitely would if it was a long time, because that strengthens the value of the reference). There are lots of different ways to do it and they’re all fine as long as they include the basics, but here’s one way:

Falcon Piffleploff (phone number, email address) – Director of Oatmeal Analysis at the Barley Basement (managed me my last two years there)

Tangerina Stewpot (phone number, email address) – Was my manager for four years at the Barley Basement (now head of production at the Porridge Post)

5. Bringing notes to informational interviews

In my current position, I go on a number of informational interviews each month (the interviewees are all within my organization; the interviews are partially for personal development and partially to make connections with folks who can help in my career).

Is it weird to bring notes to informational interviews? I like to draft 6-8 questions ahead of time and bring a printed copy for myself. This helps me actively research the person before the interview, but frankly, I also like having my questions pre-drafted because I sometimes get nervous meeting with senior officials. On a tertiary note, I frequently reference my notes after the interviews as well.

No one has said anything to me about them, but I also don’t know how I come across. I glance at the paper as I’m asking the questions. If the conversation is going in a different direction, I let the conversation flow naturally and disregard my questions. What say you, should I bring my questions or no?

Yes, definitely bring your questions written down! That’s respectful of the time of the people you’re meeting with — it shows that you put thought into this ahead of time and aren’t winging it. It means that you’re not going to take up meeting time with, “There was something else I wanted to ask … what was it … hmmm, maybe it’ll come to me.” (The same is true for job interviews; it’s fine to bring in notes on the questions you want to make sure you ask.)

You may also like:

my prospective new boss was arrested for domestic violence

can I ask for a second chance to interview if I feel like I didn’t get a fair shot?

should being on reality TV disqualify a job candidate?

candidate was arrested for peeing in public, am I being too helpful, and more was originally published by Alison Green on Ask a Manager.

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[made-of-starlightt]

1-27

hi! answered all the evens just now so i will do the odds from 1-27. thanks for submitting and have a great rest of your night!

1: do you have a crush at the moment?

i think so oops lol

3: longest relationship you've ever been in?

10 or so months

5: how is your relationship with your ex?

one i don’t talk to anymore but thats just cuz it’s been so long we were never on bad terms. the other just texted me the other day lol. i had hopes we would continue to sorta be friends and i have no ill feelings it just seems sorta forced and like we arent in the same point in our lives

7: have you ever cheated?

no!!

9: what's the most important part of a relationship?

hmmm...idk just the feeling of trust and appreciation and mutual respect i think and knowing someone supports you and thinks you are worthy of being supported.  another huge thing for me is im not really interested in someone if they cant make me laugh

11: when you are dating someone do you believe in going on "breaks"?

yes. i really do think that in some situations taking time for yourself to figure some shit out can be very valid and useful

13: what's one thing you regret saying/doing in a previous relationship?

honestly? nothing stands out...i think things happened the way they did and thats made me who i am and thats fine. i lied to the guy i dated in high school about having read certain books in order to feel smarter and like maybe that wasnt the greatest but i more regret the fact that i felt i had to lie? and that i let myself feel that his judgment of my intelligence was the end all be all of it?

15: do you believe in the phrase "age is just a number"?

no!!!!! @young girls, do NOT date older men, do NOT they do NOT care about you.

17: do you believe it's possible to fall in love on the internet?

i dont think its possible to fall in love on the internet. i think you can meet someone and realize falling in love is possible but i dont think the whole process is possible online

19: how do you know it's time to end a relationship?

if you feel guilty or sorta off or weird being around them or thinking about future plans with them that’s a major sign i think. i think in most cases you just know and the indecision is proof you know you should leave but feel bad about it (esp. if nothing like *happened* it just doesnt feel right anymore...which is so valid)

21: do you think people who have dated can stay friends?

i think so. in some circumstances.

23: how many relationships have you had?

2

25: do you believe love can conquer all things?

no unfortunately.

27: if you could go back in time and give yourself one piece of advice about dating what would it be?

there’s no “should” in dating really, you only should do what feels right for you and that’s reason enough