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earlgreydream · 3 years

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training.

| stucky x reader | smut | fluff |

anon requested. plz write a squirting fic with stucky & Bucky holds the reader down

dom!stucky helping you train & things get steamy

“Y/N, let’s go,” Steve called, watching you stretch in the corner of the gym. You nodded, bouncing to your feet and walking up to the mat in the center of the room.

The training room was empty, barring you, Steve, and Bucky. School kept you busy during the day, leaving you to practice your fighting and defense at night. You didn’t mind, preferring to have the gym to yourself, able to train privately with your two super-soldier boyfriends.

“Driving me crazy watching you stretch like that,” Bucky stated, taking your hand and helping you onto the sparring mat.

Both boys struggled to keep their eyes off of you when you showed up to train in tiny spandex shorts and a sports bra. It was easier to move that way, and you needed all the help you could get during their intense sessions. Both men were shirtless, and your adrenaline was pulsing with sexual energy. You pushed the impure thoughts out of your head, trying to focus so you didn’t get the life beaten out of you.

Steve watched as you practiced dodging hits from Bucky, moving swiftly out of the way of the blows. He tried to grab you, and you dropped low, managing to sweep him off of his feet by grabbing his ankle and yanking it out from under him.

“Damn,” Steve smirked at you proudly, and you jumped on top of Bucky, shoving him back down before he could get up.

“Think you’re so fucking smooth?” Bucky asked, flipping the two of you over, pinning you down to the mat. The surface was cold against your back, and amusement flashed in his silver eyes, along with lust, his eyes trailing down your body. He loved pinning you below him, proving that your body would bend to his will, even during your training. Steve adjusted himself, knowing he couldn’t get this hard while you worked, because he was up to work with you next.

You used the instant of Bucky’s distraction to bring your knee up to his abdomen. He shouted, loosening his grip on you, unintentionally allowing you to slip out from under him. You kicked him down, standing on top of his back with a pleased grin.

“How was that, Captain?” you asked Steve cheekily.

“Very good, honey,” he tried not to laugh.

Bucky knocked you off, and you fell hard against the mat.

“Hey! You’re not allowed to be mad that I’m doing well!” you cried, the breath knocked out of you from the impact.

He slapped your ass, not caring that you were succeeding in combat training. You shrieked at the sting that spread through your skin, and you gave Bucky a vicious look. You were annoyed at how aroused you were getting, at the action certainly didn’t help.

“Buck, that’s enough.”

Steve walked over, helping you to your feet. You thanked him, giving Bucky another scathing look.

“Hey, cut the attitude. Go run,” Steve said, pointing to the padded track that stretched around the perimeter of the gym. You sighed but obeyed, jogging around the room.

“Fuck, she’s going to kill me,” Bucky whispered, watching your body bounce as you ran. Steve agreed, definitely admiring your ass. You could feel their heated gazes, and it made you slick between your thighs. You had to train, but you were quickly going hungry for sex.

You joined them once you finished your lap, sweat giving your skin a sheen. Bucky whistled at you, and you couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping your lips.

“Come here,” you said, pulling him into a kiss. You were startled about how starved it was, his tongue instantly pushing into your mouth. He gripped your ass in his hands, and Steve scolded the two of you.

You boxed with Steve, doing the drills that Bucky shouted out at you. Your breathing increased, your chest rising and falling quickly and your body bouncing on the mat as you delivered punches and kicks to the pads he held.

The boys didn’t care as you grew tired, and you wrestled with Bucky, rolling around on the mat. Your thighs went around his head as you tried to roll the two of you over, but he knocked you down, his hands pinning you to the mat as he buried his face between your legs.

“I want to fuck you so damn bad,” he growled into the spandex, making you moan with need, unable to hide it any longer.

“Please, Bucky,” you begged.

“Sergeant, to you. We’re still training,” Steve corrected, your eyes rolling back at the command.

Your hips were shoved to the ground, and Bucky climbed over you, kissing up your bare torso.

“Doll, you wanted to get fucked, didn’t you? Wearing the one you know I like,” he growled, nipping at you through the sports bra that held you in place.

“Yes, Sergeant,” you answered, trying to roll your hips up into his.

Bucky pulled down the zipper with his teeth, freeing you as the sports bra fell open. Steve swore, tossing his sweats off, kneeling down behind your head.

Bucky couldn’t keep his hands from your chest, tugging at your nipples and making you squeal and writhe under him.

“Want your Captain to fuck your mouth?” Bucky asked, smirking at you.

“Yes, please!” You parted your lips, making Steve laugh darkly and cradle your head in his large hands.

“So needy, honey. You’re so horny you’ll take dick anywhere you can get it, huh?” Steve teased, and you felt yourself growing even more soaked.

You moaned as he fucked into your mouth, burying himself in your throat. Steve groaned as you opened your jaw, running your tongue along the veins of his cock.

“Fuck,” he swore, his blonde head falling back. He struggled not to slam into your throat, being careful as he rolled forward steadily.

You jolted as Bucky lightly bit down on your soft skin, delighting in the sound you made. He let off you, kneeling between your legs and pulling the spandex from your hips.

“She’s fucking soaked, Stevie,” he gasped, running his fingers through your glistening slit.

“All that from being thrown around by us?” Steve asked, knowing very well you couldn’t answer with your mouth still full of him.

Bucky held your thighs open before his tongue replaced your fingers, the muscle dragging through your folds and pushing inside of you with shallow thrusts. You moaned around Steve, making the soldier’s hips stutter.

Bucky ate you out, holding your hips still and pressing his tongue flat against your cunt, making you squeal around Steve.

“I’m going to come, honey,” Steve’s voice was deep and raspy, sending heat shuddering through you.

You gripped his thighs on either side of your head as he spilled down your throat, filling your mouth with his taste. You swallowed all of it, your eyes glassy as you gazed up at him.

“So good for your Captain,” he praised you, leaning down to press a heady kiss to your lips.

“Bucky!” You yelled as you came, gushing onto his chin, gasping as he lapped it all up.

“You look so hot when you come, doll,” Bucky wiped his mouth, letting you catch your breath.

You started to get up, but Steve stopped you, his hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you into a messy makeout session, distracting you as Bucky pried your legs back open.

Steve laid you back down on the mat, groping your tits as Bucky knelt between your thighs.

“Beg, doll,” Bucky smirked, brushing his tip against your clit, through your folds, teasing you.

“Please fuck me, Sergeant. I need to feel you in my pussy,” you whined, biting your lip and arching your back off of the floor. Steve smirked as you shuddered under his touch.

He rolled forward into you, stretching you out and satiating your throbbing need to be filled. Pleasure erupted through your body and you moaned, pushing your hips against his, trying to pull him deeper inside of you.

The air was thick and sexually charged. You were sensitive from your first orgasm, and you shuddered as Bucky’s tip brushed against your g-spot. The pressure was quickly rebuilding in your belly, and you were dangerously close to a second orgasm as Bucky rocked steadily into your pussy, encouraged by Steve’s teasing hands.

“I’m close, I can’t hold it,” you warned, unable to fight it off.

“You’re going to wait until we tell you, doll,” Bucky ordered, squeezing your thighs. Tears threatened to fall as you tried to hold back, and a choked shriek escaped you as he came inside of you, riding out his own orgasm with shallow thrusts, painting the inside of your velvet walls with his release.

“Thank you, Sergeant,” you squeezed his wrist, your vision blurring.

“Go ahead,” Steve granted you permission, and the pressure gave way, sending a powerful orgasm rushing through you. Your legs were shaky under Bucky’s hands, all of your nerves sparking like a live wire. Tears slid from your eyes, and Steve kissed them off your cheeks.

“You look so gorgeous when you fell apart, honey, all spread open and getting fucked here on the floor,” his deep voice shot down your spine and settled in your cunt. Bucky felt your walls seize around him at Steve’s lewd words rolling from his lips.

“Does it turn you on to hear Steve tell you filthy things?” Bucky asked, his gaze alerting you that he demanded an answer.

“Yes!” you confessed, blushing.

There was no reason to be embarrassed about it, especially given what you were doing. They reveled in seeing you so shy, tearing your walls down as they took turns fucking the doubt from your mind. Neither of the boys teased you to shame you, they ate up your confidence in your sexuality, and they wanted to know how best to please you. Despite their dominance over you, they did everything for you, striving to extract as much pleasure from you as possible.

And fuck, they were so good at it.

You’d never experienced anything like the two of them, and any relationship or sex that predated them was rendered completely irrelevant. They blew your mind over and over again, taking you to heights of pleasure you had no idea were even possible.

“I know you have another one in you, doll,” Bucky grinned, and you blushed, shaking your head.

“I’ve already come twice-”

“You can do it again, it’ll feel so good, I promise,” Steve kissed you, dragging you back onto his lap. He pushed his legs between yours, spreading you open on top of his body.

You were hypersensitive already, and out of breath from the training and sex with the men who had superhuman stamina. Steve’s fingers pushed inside of you, curling forward and brushing your spongey walls, making you writhe on his lap. Bucky’s lips caught yours, tasting Steve still on your tongue. You moaned into his mouth as Steve fingered you quickly, lewd noises filling the gym as his fingers slid in and out of your pussy, slick from both yours and Bucky’s come. Bucky’s hand went between you, rubbing your clit as Steve pushed two fingers deep inside of you. He leaned back on his heels, watching you squirm and beg incoherently for more.

“Captain!” you shrieked, about to snap.

White-hot euphoria burned through you like fire, searing everything inside of you and swirling in your clit. You screamed and pulled on Steve’s hair as it shattered, electricity sparking through every inch of your skin. You squirted all over their hands and the padding below you, soaking everything between your legs. You panted, trying to draw air into your lungs and recover from the intensity, melting back into Steve’s arms.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life,” Bucky praised you, making your cheeks rosy. You’d never done that before, and you were suddenly shy around them, hiding your face.

“You alright, baby? That was a lot, huh?” Steve chuckled softly, kissing your cheek and hugging you tightly against him.

“Yes, holy shit,” you swore, closing your legs and curling up into Steve.

Your legs were still trembling slightly, even once they’d cleaned you up enough to slide your shorts back up your legs and rezipping your bra so you could walk through Stark Tower back to your room.

“You did great, doll.” Bucky kissed your cheek before following you back to your room, turning on the shower as Steve set you down.

“I’m not letting you shower with me, I can’t go another round, and I know you two. Go shower and come back,” you laughed, pushing them out of your bathroom.

You got clean, sitting on the tiled seat in your shower, still weak on your feet. Once the water started to go cold, you got out and dried off. You searched through your things, pulling a clean pair of cotton shorts on your legs and Bucky’s NASA hoodie, letting the fabric swallow you up. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing in Bucky’s scent that lingered on his clothes, like sandalwood and lemons. It instantly relaxed you, taking the edge off of your raw nerves.

Your muscles were a little sore, and you grabbed a bottle of lotion from your dresser. The door opened and Steve and Bucky entered, Steve immediately going to stretch out on your bed. Bucky smiled when he saw you in his hoodie, and he hugged you from behind, kissing the back of your head.

“Do you mind?” you asked, handing him the bottle.

“Of course not.”

You sat on the bed and Bucky massaged the lotion into your muscles, patiently listening to you talk about your day. Steve’s soft blue eyes never left yours, playing with your fingers, his head resting in your lap.

“Can we skip training tomorrow? I’m exhausted,” you asked, and Bucky smirked.

“Yeah, I suppose you can have one day off.”

“So generous,” you giggled, leaning into his side as he settled down next to you.

“We can always work out another way,” Steve suggested teasingly.

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believeitseeitdoit · 3 years

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Legos and Language

Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: All bets are off when it comes to a Lego mishap in the Rogers-Barnes home

Rating: Y'all shouldn’t be reading the filthy things if youre under 18 anyways but this one is pretty PG (but language is the exception)

Warnings: Domestic stucky, suggested and slight smutty times, 90% fluffy, some foul language, talk of murder and destruction of legos forever, feel good shit, Steve, Bucky and their girl have babies

don’t steal my little munchkin oc names please, I like them

This is written from each lover’s POV, marked by ******** this

This is a work of love and hated of legos, solely to be read for a smile and maybe some happiness, be kind or go away

“Sonofabitch!” Your hushed curse rattles through the house as you stomp barefoot through your son’s pile of a semi built lego creation. With a few breathy “fuck’s,'' you hop over to the nearest chair to rub the new soreness out. Sharp indentations litter the underside of your arch, and you peel off a flat piece from your toe then mentally plot unmonitored use of the quantum realm to murder the creator of legos before they can cause any harm to you again.

Continuing your muttering, you delicately set your foot down and turn to the mess. You sigh in relief that you didn’t destroy any of the built chunk, you were only subjected to the ultimate test of parenthood, the loose pieces.

“Back to our regularly scheduled morning, coffee.” You say to the empty room, narrating your routine as if you were running a sitcom. Once in the kitchen, you set about making a hefty pot of coffee for you and your husbands, humming an 80s rock tune and letting your open robe swish around you loosely in the process.

********

They both notice you slide out of bed, a super spy and a retired Avenger don’t miss much in their own home. But rather than follow you down to the kitchen to disrupt your morning ritual, Steve pulls his husband against him and nuzzles his hair so they could get some quiet time of their own. A few moments later, Bucky is softly snoring against Steve’s arm, and Steve is on the brink of sleep when he hears a barely audible string of curses and the unbalanced thunking of feet along the hardwood. Bucky seems undeterred, so Steve leaves him be and slips out of the bed to investigate what caused the early use of language, not that he’s surprised considering their wife’s colorful vocabulary when the kids aren’t listening.

Pulling his discarded boxers back on from the night before, Steve saunters out of the master suite silently toward the staircase. He pokes his head into the nursery to check on the sleeping infant twins, and heads down the old hardwood steps, praying for them not to creak with every step. Halfway down the stairs, he hears you filling the coffee pot under the tap and the chorus to a White Snake ballad quietly playing from the speakers while you hum along. With a smile and a small head bob as he catches the tune, Steve steps across the threshold of the stairs toward the living room and kitchen, unaware of the torture devices scattered on the floor.

Steve intends to follow the wall to get to the kitchen without his presence known, until you hear a series of words that would make Tony blush and an unfortunate crunching sound of your son’s creation being smashed to bits.

“SONOFAFUCKINGMONKEYSASSHOLE WHAT THE FUCKING DICK ON A STICK GOD DAMN PIECE OF TORTUROUS BULLSHIT IS THIS?!!” He yelps loudly and tries to hop over the new graveyard of legos.

In his fresh misery, he misses you quickly dropping the coffee grounds onto the counter top and hustling toward him to make sure his verbatim doesn’t wake the twins. As you begin shushing him from a few steps away, Steve hobbles blindly toward your voice and you see it happen before you can say anything. Your big clutz of a husband smashes his un-assaulted foot through your son’s Legos, only this time Captain America is not the star spangled man with a plan. He has absolutely destroyed the near complete firetruck and you can only stand in awe at his ability to hit each remaining chunk of the build before he finally makes it to the couch.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck, why the fucking legos? FUCK!” His wailing is not going to gain any sympathies from you, only entertainment at the weaknesses of men.

“Steven Grant, you shut the hell up before you wake my babies or I WILL send Bucky to the store and you can have twin duty alone.” Sitting down at his feet to pull the pieces off his skin, you scold him lightly but without any venom or intention. He hisses as you pull the flat plastic off his big toe, and you chuckle as his pathetic whimpers cease.

“So, coffee?” You stand and pull him up with you toward the kitchen, letting his calloused hands and leftover cologne embrace you like a blanket as he leans down to caress your cheek. He kisses your forehead and softly brushes hair behind your ear with one hand while the other grips your plush hip under the loose robe.

“Maybe something sweeter to distract me first? This robe is teasing me.” His lips ghost down your neck and he nips at your collarbone while pulling the thin silk off your shoulders.

“You kept me up late, baby. I need coffee before anything today.” You whisper breathily against his tanned, thick chest, whimpering and shivering as you feel him trace the marks littering your skin and gently squeezing the flesh he is so obsessed with.

He allows you to pull away only after you shudder again, but he stands behind you, hands locked onto your hips as you pour the bitter amber liquid into 3 mugs. Steve’s love bites on your neck keep you distracted long enough for Bucky to come down the stairs without being noticed.

“I thought we agreed there was no third wheeling in this family, and yet here we are.” Your bonus husband is perched against the refrigerator offering your favorite coffee creamer and his signature pout.

******

Bucky is roused by his husband rolling out of bed and the accompanying coolness that surrounds him as the sheets flutter back down against the mattress. He listens to Steve pad lightly down the hall to check in on the kids, Hudson in his room first, then Charlotte and Talia in the nursery. As the footsteps recede down the stairwell, Bucky lets his body sink into the bed and the scents of his partners surround him and lull him back to sleep.

Until he hears a string of words leave his husband’s mouth, and a series of crunches and shattering sounds buried under more very inappropriate words. Now wide awake, Bucky shoves himself from bed and puts a loose sweatshirt over his head while he walks toward the stairs. He is halted by a whimper from one of his little twins in the nursery, but his ever present super senses note that both babes are still firmly asleep so he continues down the steps.

Not sure of the state of things on the main floor, Bucky alertly scopes the space and finds their son’s legos strewn about the floor. With a sigh, Bucky steps around them and shakes his head as he follows the sounds of his husband and wife to the kitchen. He is met with tangled hair and soft pants, an open robed woman more stunning than Aphrodite, and a man barely containing his impressive erection in his low hanging boxers. Bucky can feel the energy in the room, can practically taste the arousal on them, and his subconscious stirs awake, begging to join like a wolf waiting for the hunt.

*******

“And who plans on fixing our son’s firetruck creation? Because it sure as hell won’t be me, I will be taking care of our little girls where I am wanted.”

Steve is the first to respond, an arm opens toward Bucky in the same moment. “Honey we didn’t mean to leave you out, c’mon over here let us show you how much better it is with you.”

As Bucky steps into Steve’s reach, you push off the counter and into the thick warmth of your husbands. Their desire envelops you as kisses are peppered on skin and fingers prod at bits of flesh for a better grip on reality. The moment is nearly bursting with love and lust, blinding both man’s super senses of their incoming visitor.

“Who da hell bwoke my WEGOS!!!!????? MOMMYYYYY!” Hudson screeches from the bottom of the stairs and you’re running for him in an instant.

“Hudson Anthony! You do not speak like that. You know better young man.” Steve and Bucky hiss at the use of their boy’s middle name, knowing how he feels in both respects.

“Baby boy, I’m so sorry about the Legos, but you cannot use that language. No naughty words right?” You hate scolding him when you completely understand his frustrations, but heavens forbid he say any of that in public, the boy would be shamed and sent to his principal so fast even the Daily Bugle couldn’t catch it first.

Hudson sniffles and rubs his nose, trying to fight off tears of frustration in front of his daddy and papa, but quickly fails.

“But, is bwoken mommy. I woked so hawd on it! Wuh happened?” He begins wailing and stuttering breaths, and you pull him into your arms to hug and comfort him gently.

“Shh, handsome, it was an accident. See, they were left too close to the stairs and mommy stepped on some, then daddy heard her yelp and ran through them too. Papa moved them out of the way and reminded daddy that he needs to help fix it with you baby.” You bounce him on your hip, trying to push the sadness away like you did when he was a small tike.

Bucky and Steve step closer, each wrapping an arm around you and Hudson to initiate a bear hug. Hudson whimpers a bit longer then picks his head up from your shoulder and leans toward Steve, signaling he wants his daddy to hold him next. Steve pulls him close and whispers apologies only audible to his boy, but you and Bucky smile knowingly. They head to the far corner of the couch where they can have a quiet cuddle and talk about how Hudson can teach his daddy to rebuild the LEGO vehicle.

You lean against Bucky, enjoying the moment until he turns to the stairs.

“Time for round 2 with some sleepy babies?” You tie your robe closed and head up the walk way, stubbing your toe on the first step.

“Mother fu—dge on toast that was unpleasant.” You yelp and grip tightly onto Bucky’s vibranium arm. He chuckles and scoops you into his arms, carrying you up the remaining steps.

“Careful, I don’t want to use your middle name today too darling.” He winks, setting you down at the doorway of the nursery. With a huff, you begin fluttering about the room, softly waking your girls and beginning their morning routine.

“My sweet little Charlotte Ann, and my lovely Natalia Rose, you two are the most precious angels in this world. But for the love of all things holy, no Legos when you’re older ok?”

Tagging those who may appreciate this or can give me a helpful bit of advice on my writing : @bxccxdxll @iraot @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim @thebescht @makbarnes

#stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #stucky x reader #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #parent Bucky #parent steve

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erintoknow · 5 years

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maybe it will break and maybe it won’t

fallen hero fanfiction some [chargestep], but mostly featuring Lady Argent. ~3.1k words [ao3]

i feel like this might be intense enough i should just give this a generalized content warning :v

prev: [no reason for suspicion of me]

–––

You chew your cheek as you follow Ortega through the hallway, one hand fiddling with your sunglasses. Here we go, the day of reckoning. And lo, though you walk through the valley of death, but you shall fear no evil, because… you are the evil.

Or something.

Fuck.

Ortega stops and turns her head to check on you, offers an encouraging smile. “Thank you for doing this. I mean it.”

You keep your face placid, shrug your shoulders. “I’ll do what I can.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I could think of any other way.”

You frown at that. The logic a little too familiar. “It’s… nice to be wanted, I guess.”

She looks at you again, shift your focus study the floor in front your feet. “Hey, I’ve missed you, you know?”

You don’t know what to say for that and so opt for ‘nothing,’ expecting Ortega to fill the silence like she always does. Instead the empty cord stretches out, the electric hum of machinery buzzing under your mind.

You step forward down the hall and it mercifully prompts Ortega to take the lead again. “So, uh, is–is, uh, Lady Argent ready?

“As much as she can be,” Ortega frowns, slowing her pace. “I hope this helps, even if you don’t find anything She’s been…”

“I can understand,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. Something heavy and painful squeezes your chest, your throat. “She’s been– been…”

“Is that what it felt like when–”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” You snap, you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your sides as you shudder. You’ve never really thought this hard about what happens to someone after you finish possessing them. Now you are, and you can taste the bile in the back of your throat.

cables twisting around

the feet like

snakes in the grass.

red strings wrapped

around your wrists,

yanked tight,

your hand finds the dial

on the plasma caster’s power setting

“–felt it too, during that last mission.”

You blink, lost for a moment. “Who?”

Ortega gives you a look. “Chen?”

Oh.

Wait.

“What about the dampeners?”

Ortega shakes her head, “They overloaded.” She speeds up as she talks, “That’s why I got to you so late. It started to get to him too. Just about about managed to keep himself under control.”

Frown, “How?” How did Steel do what you couldn’t.

Ortega frowns, obviously not proud of herself. “I reminded him he was a soldier, you know? That his life wasn’t his anymore.”

Oh.

Your frown only deepens further. “Well good for him.”

The walls are a friendlier color but as Ortega opens the door for you to step inside, you can’t help but note the similarity to an interrogation room. Glass pane into the hallway, single door in or out. Two chairs on opposite sides of a small square table. Light hanging down from a singular overhead lamp. You pull the halves of your jacket together with one hand as you sit down in the only unoccupied chair.

Ortega shuts the door behind her.

Lady Argent sits across from you, arms folded in front of her chest, leaning back, away from you, shoulders tense. Might as well try to ease into things…

You push up your sunglasses. No way in hell are you taking them off in here. “H–how are you doing, Lady Argent?”

She scowls at you. “Let’s just get on with this already. It’s been weeks.”

Try not to flinch, take a breath. In. Out. “Alright, well… close you eyes, if you could?”

She hunches up, glaring at you. “Why.” Damn, you’d swear she could see right though you. Suddenly, having Ortega standing in a corner doesn’t feel like sufficient protection. God, if you screw this up, you’ll be lucky if it only costs your life.

You try to smile, put your hands flat on your lap, gripping your skin through clothes so they won’t shake. “N–n–no sense turning this into a staring contest, right? It’ll be– it’ll be hard for us to focus if we’re all laughing.”

Argent snarls at you, and you flinch back in your seat. “This isn’t funny.”

Ortega steps forward from her corner towards the two of you. “Angie, it’s okay. Calm down. You can trust Ari.” You stomach twists at that last addition.

“I am calm.” Argent huffs, scrunching up face. “Stay out of this Julia.” She turns her head back to you, staring you down. You give her a nervous smile and she shuts her eyes with another huff. “…should I be doing anything?”

There’s something deeply unsettling about how her the silver sheen of her skin reflects your own face back at you.

You bite your lip, “Just… be quiet. It’s been a long time since I’ve tried to do anything like this.” You lie, and you feel sick again for doing so. You need to pull yourself together fast or you cover-up job is going to be even worse at hiding your involvement then the original crime.

“Take your time, Ari.” Ortega’s voice feels like it’s coming from a thousand miles away as you close your own eyes.

It starts with skimming thoughts, like dipping your hand through a stream. It’s small – a child’s – yours or hers? Skimming the water fingers brushing pebbles and the water deepens, further and further as the blue of the reflected sky deepens and the wavering images of the forest drops away and you’re in the thick of it – immersed. The current grips your arm pulling you one way, your leg it yanks another.

The haze of blue blinding your perception gives way to metal spires mirrored in the sea. Constantly shifting, tilting, collapsing and rebuilding, the reflections out of sync. Memory of metal and sharpness. You pull your own song tight against you, pull yourself into the tiniest speck of a presence as you can manage. The long you’re here, the great a risk you take.

Pull yourself tight, plunge down into the depth of the labyrinth. You don’t have time to try to decipher the literal meaning of the metaphors being thrown at you. Get in, get out. Follow the thread. You were always good that at least.

Or you thought you were.

Wrong turn, and the mindscape melts around you into something else, a shadow of a room. Somewhere in the Rangers HQ? Ortega stands in front of you but you only know that by her shape and the memory. The figure before you is alive in pulsing coils of light like you’ve never seen her before.

You’re in Argent’s memory?

Oops.

We can’t just pretend this never happened, Ortega pleads. You try to focus on her through Argent’s eyes. What is she wearing? A suit. White? When was this?

Yes we can, Argent snaps and your– her vision jerks around as she crosses her arms, scowls at Ortega.

Ortega, this unsettling superposition of glowing wires under human flesh. She gestures, leaving glowing trails with her hands. You know it doesn’t work that way. You’re–

A risk to the team. Argent snarls. A liability.

What’s that look for? Ortega frowns.

Argent’s vision darts between the pulsing in Ortega’s abdomen to her face. You sure I’m the only liability here?

That is not what we’re talking about.

Fine. But we will. Soon.

Ortega sighs. If that’s what it takes.

I just find her a bit creepy. You frown, drumming your hand against your elbow.

Angie! Ortega frowns, eyebrows furrowed.

You take a step back, What? Something about how she looks–

Just stop! Ortega raises her voice at you. She’s been through a lot and deserves some–

Huh. Arch a single eyebrow.

What!?

A smile curls your lip. Nothing, you lie. It’s just… funny.

What? What is? Ortega’s face heats up, an intensity of color.

You. Point a finger at her face. Are blushing.

She’s a friend. An old friend. Ortega is glaring daggers at you now.

You keep your smirk. Uh-huh.

Look, just, be civil to her okay? This isn’t her fault. Ortega’s words twist a knife in your heart as the memory warps and melts around you. It’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault. You’re just– you’re just trying to help right?

Cables, like snakes in the grass coil around you.

Sorry Chickadee, here comes the net.

You don’t even realize at first that anything’s wrong. You’re just walking down the street, enjoying the temporary respite from the constant throbbing pain in your bones. And then you don’t make the turn towards your house. You keep walking. Cross the street. Huh. That’s funny.

Must have been day-dreaming.

let your feet carry you to work by sheer reflex of memory there’s an itching in the back of your skull inside behind one eye a pressure pushing down people screaming flash of green when did you get to the ranger’s building? that’s blocks away plug in the security code descend down, down into the vault no one questions you why? why can’t they see what’s wrong? you movement feels stiff yet light there’s someone else pulling the strings something speaks with your mouth to the security guard and it’s not you, not your words and then

you’re scanning a wall of boxes tracing lines of circuitry pry loose one cabinet take the box inside and something in your skin buzzes crawls hums as your fingers wrap around the box whatever asshole’s running you doesn’t pay any mind too drunk on their supposed victory but still you can’t move, can’t speak cable wires run through your bones pulled this way and that by something else

and fuck thank god there’s herald you useless man don’t just stand there smiling this isn’t you it’s not you, help do something a shock like lightning runs through you and your hand goes straight into herald’s smiling face knocking him off his feet goddamnit thats what you get why won’t you realize something is wrong danny help me

he says something as the you that isn’t you runs and you can’t hear it can’t process it your vision dark like you keep falling asleep have to force yourself awake but there’s nothing you can do nothing nothing nothing your own fists clumsily bludgeoning and he doesn’t understand doesn’t get it useless useless somebody help help please why doesn’t somebody help you

You manage to yank yourself away before you impale yourself any further on the memory, an angry hissing red razor, a thousand different edges poking out in all directions. The water around it shimmers in a boiling haze.

Fuck.

Shit.

Goddamn.

That was bad.

You can’t afford time to process it right now. At least divorced from your body you don’t feel your usual reactions. No nausea. No tight throat. No panicked breathing. Clear your mind of all of it. Both your minds.

Focus on calm seas and desert plains.

Bit by bit the water colors, the edges dull, the shifting of the metal around you slows. You’ve made your job harder for yourself, but you’re not doomed yet. This’ll call for extra finesse. Dance from memory spike to memory spike, pull thoughts of home, wear the smell of baking bread like a cloak. Cast aside your jealousy pangs at her memories of family.

Memories aren’t recordings, it’s a performance, and one you can change. Touch the core of it again, gently, lightly, don’t get sucked in, scrub your give-aways drop little hints of something else.

No one’s heard from her in months, her picture plastering news reports. The innocent young woman, would-be vigilante. Where is she now? You don’t know, but Locus will make the perfect scapegoat. Strong enough to have plausibly done it. So long gone it’s unlikely the Rangers will ever find her and realize the ruse.

Paint her image into the crowd as Argent steps out of the therapy clinic. Purple on black skin, re-route your regret as coming from her:

It wasn’t your fault Argent. It wasn’t your fault. She had no other choice. It was nothing against you.

She’s sorry. She’s so, so sorry. You jerk awake in your own body to the room spinning around you, nausea churning at the back of your mouth. Someone’s hands pressing hard into your shoulders, holding you steady.

“Ariadne– Ari? You okay?”

You flinch, look up and try to focus your eyes. Ortega’s mouth is a tight frown, brows knitted together. What does she– Shouldn’t she be attending to Argent? Not you?

You cough, “I’m fine.” You rub your nose and groan, a line of red runs down your finger, across your hand. “Fuck. Got any tissues?”

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Ortega reaches into her back pocket pulling out a travel pack and handing the whole thing to you. You quickly shove a tissue up your noise and then wipe down your bloody hand.

“Thanks.” You glance over at Argent and flinch, there’s a slow boiling fury in her eyes. This is it. The moment of truth.

Argent spits out a name through clenched teeth. “Locus.” Her hands have curled into fists. “It was Locus. I knew she couldn’t be trusted. No one is that nice.” She shoves her chair backward as she gets to her feet.

Ortega helps you up, “Are you sure it was her?”

“I am.” She pays a passing glance in your direction and your stomach flips. “Sorry about your friend there. But she managed to jog something at least. I saw her. I saw her just before it all happened.”

You glance at Ortega as Argent paces the room, flexing her fingers which have sharped into razors. “She is up to something. I don’t know what. Forced? Sorry?” Her voice drops into an unnerving growl. “She’ll pay. No one does something like that to me and walks away.” drums her hands –lethal pinpricks– against her hips, quivering in rage.

You feel sick, watching her.

There’s… There’s no way she’ll actually find Locus, right? “You should go tell Chen while it’s still fresh in your head.” Ortega puts an arm around your shoulder, holding you up, and you let her. Your body pressing into hers. You still feel dizzy. Was she always this tall? You didn’t shrink in the past seven years did you? “I’ll make sure Ari’s okay here.”

Argent flexes her hands, brushes back her hair in a dramatic flourish. “We finally have a lead.” She marches out the room, slamming the door hard enough behind her to make you jump.

Ortega frowns as she looks at you. “Are you alright, Ari? You look awful.”

You worm your way free of her and narrow your eyes, hold up the wad of tissues with one hand as you pinch the bridge of your nose. “I’m fine. Stop worrying so much.” It’s not you she should worry about.

“If you say so. Let me just clean up a bit before we head out.”

You lean back against the wall of the room as you watch Ortega fuss about the room. When she turns back to you, there’s a chocolate bar in her hands. “I know it’s not a milkshake, but I figured you would want a pick-me-up.”

You eyes widen at her, “W–where the– the heck were you hiding this?” You take the bar from her, hold it in one hand while you check if your nose is still bleeding with the other. Satisfied you at least won’t bleed over the chocolate you rip the wrapper open and bite down on an edge; let it melt in your mouth.

“I know how you get when you do something big like this.”

You close your eyes, slump against the wall. For a moment it’s like the past seven years haven’t happened. It’s just you and Julia, de-stressing after some death-defying battle. Allies again. Friends. But– “You never used to be this thoughtful.”

“Things change.”

“I guess.”

The taste of copper mixes with the taste of chocolate.

You can hear Ortega shift and you open your eyes and now she’s sitting in one of the chairs, turned it so she can face you. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost want to laugh. Instead you shrug, fold the wrapper back up and toss the candy bar to the table. “No.”

Ortega meets your gaze and you have to look away again. “It can’t hurt.”

You toss the bloodied tissue into the trash bin by the door. Rim shot, 2 points. Pull out another tissue and wad it up there. “You aren’t–” You stop yourself, wince. Try again, “you aren’t the one with the scars.”

Fuck. You don’t deserve her sympathy. If she knew the truth about you… Not even just about what you are any more. It’s what you’ve done. What you’re going to do. You’re going to have to think hard about this. About how far you’re willing to go.

Do you really need to blow up a whole building just to take out some dumb exhibit? Maybe…

“Ari… none of us got out of there in one piece.”

You tense up, “Y–you know what I mean.” What is her deal? Why does she care so damn much?

“Maybe, but…” Ortega trails off as she stands up again, she hesitates, a half step towards you. God. She’s really trying isn’t she. This isn’t an act. It isn’t a scheme to get you to slip up. Fuck. All this effort… you don’t deserve a second of it.

You don’t deserve to be here. You shouldn’t have done this. Ortega’s yanked your corpse out of the ground and now all the maggots have gone running for cover. Maybe Chen and Ortega don’t hate you. But now they will. What you’ve already done here.

But you can’t stop. It’s this or dying or worse. You or the Directive.

You step towards her, duck your head towards the side and pull her into a hug. It takes her a second to register and then her arms clap tight against your back, pulling you against her, holding you a littler harder, and little longer than appropriate.

Eventually you have to pull away from her. You cough, “I’ve.. um, m-missed you too.” You can feel your face heat up as say it.

Ortega’s face lights up, a grin spreading wide across her face, and she’s acting way too excited over some dumb hug.

You step away from her before she can hug you again. Try to scowl to keep from smiling back. “D–don’t– don’t get carried away now.”

–

next: [my body is here and i am inside]

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #fhr/Ariadne #wlw fanfic #mc #ortega #lady argent #mind control #mind control recovery #trauma

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nancy94 · 4 years

Text

How A Foot Massager Can Help With Plantar Fasciitis

Plantar fasciitis

It is one of the common foot problems that most people face on their feet. It actually causes pain in your heel area. Middle-aged people are the main victim of this problem but younger people are also experiencing this problem. It actually occurred by the inflammation of the plantar fascia. It is a ligament that works as a connector between your heel bones and the base of your toes. You may suffer this problem in your both feet. It is important to take proper treatment when you face this problem otherwise the pain will increases. You can reduce this pain by using the best foot massager for plantar fasciitis.

Why foot massager for plantar fasciitis

After a long day at your work, you feel pain in your feet. If you want relief from the pain of plantar fasciitis a foot massager is a very effective tool for you. Its rubbing motion and various feature like vibration massage your feet and reduce your tension. It helps in relaxing and healing your feet by reducing your pain.

How a foot massager can help you with plantar fasciitis

The soothing motion of a foot massager reduces your stress and tension and improve blood circulation in your feet and relieve your self from various foot pain. There are so many benefits of foot massager given in the below:

Improve circulation and reduce stress level

The circulation system of foot massager improves blood circulation and provides oxygen and nutrition in your blood and spreads it to all the organs of your body. It also removes harmful toxins from your body by guiding them to the auto drainage way of the body. Dew to the long distance of lower feet from hearts a less blood flow to your feet, foot massager increased it.

Relaxation

When you finished your hard work, your body is full of stress and anxiety, you need proper relaxation to rebuild your energy level. A foot massager can help you with that by enhancing the homeostasis level in your body. Your body is able to produce when all the systems of your body work together. This helps to reduce stress and anxiety from your body and make you feel relax.

Helps with fallen arches

Another reason for foot pain is flat feet, if you have a flat feet then the fallen arches of your feet tend to roll over to the inner side when you walk or run. This will lead you to plantar fasciitis but you can eliminate it by taking foot massage. It will help you to reduce pain and gradually cure the conditions.

Prevents foot and ankle injuries

A foot massager works as a recovery aid after an injury. It will reduce your muscles soreness and help you with your joint pain and it also protects you from fall in further injuries.

Lowers blood pressure

High blood pressure is very harmful for your body. Your unhealthy diet and stress causes high blood pressure. A foot massager helps you to reduce your blood pressure by improving your mood and reduce your stress level.

After completing the whole article if any question arises in your mind, ask us by comment here, Thank you.

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elizaxspears · 6 years

Note

Hartwin prompt: It's their anniversary. One of them takes a shot at making a fancy dessert.

Now that I’m feeling better, I decided to work on requests! Hopefully you enjoy it and it works with the prompt!

“I’m sorry Eggsy, but I can’t make it home tonight.” those words had Eggsy’s heart sinking. He knew, he honestly did, that there was a fifty percent chance that Harry wouldn’t be home today. Still, he had his hopes up. Probably stupidly, but he did.

Today was meant to be a special one, despite work. It’s their anniversary, their one year one without all the hiccups of dying and amnesia and princesses. It’s only been them, so Eggsy tried making something special. He’s not know for his skills in the kitchen, knows Harry’s the chef between them both; he’s certainly not known for his baking skills but it’s their anniversary, so he damn well tried.

It’s trying and knowing this efforts went to waste that really has him upset. It’s not Harry’s fault, he knows he can’t call Harry out, “it’s our anniversary, you promised!” because Harry’s Arthur now. Even as Galahad, their work leaves their plans always in limbo. There are no promises of coming home that night. The only promise Harry made was for Eggy’s birthday and even then, he had been called away that evening to greet Lancelot as she came back from her mission. No, it’s not Harry’s fault, but Eggsy’s still upset.

He puts the desert away in the fridge and trudges upstairs to their bedroom. It’s empty, quiet, not even Hamish or JB the second have followed him, both dogs cuddled together downstairs where it’s warmer. When he lays in bed, he recalls the last few months after Poppy. it was a mess honestly, with no Mansion, no Harry’s old flat and no shop, they had to rebuild from scratch. Thankfully Merlin is alive and so is Roxy, so they help as well as the Statesmen resources. He apologizes to Tilde as he breaks things off with her but she takes it well, thankfully, maybe because she saw how head over heels he was for Harry. And Harry, Harry, having him back in Eggsy’s life was a blessing. There are still some after effects from being shot, but the nightmares, the shaking hands, it’s all dealt with in stride and with Eggsy always at his side.

He stares at the alarm clock with half his face smushed into his pillow. It’s only half past seven, far too early for bed but he doesn’t have the urge to do anything else. He’d planned the evening like he shouldn’t have; Harry would come home, they’d order their favourite takeaway, they’d have the dessert Eggsy put as much effort as he could into and snuggle up on the couch with tea and their favourite movie. It was going to be positively lovely. Now, he’s got nothing to look forward too.

He really doesn’t realize he’s fallen asleep until he hears something that jolts him awake. His eyes are still on the clock; it’s nearly two in the morning. It’s as if his mind has forgotten what he’d previously been moping about as he grabs his gun from the secret compartment in the nightstand. In his mind, Harry’s laying next to him, fast asleep and this intruder is easily dealt with, so he doesn’t want want to disturb his worn out boyfriend.

He crept downstairs, pistol at the ready with is back pressed against the wall. In his head he counts down from three before shoving himself from his cover and aiming the gun directly at the intruder. Except, it’s not an intruder and the sound he heard, the bang, was nothing more than an accidentally dropped briefcase from the unexpected attack from their two dogs. Harry’s on his knees with Hamish and JB swarming him eagerly, trying to take pets from the other one, nudging and rubbing their heads against Harry’s fine trousers. It takes him too long before he realizes Harry’s said his name a few times. “You’re, home?” Eggsy asks, quickly lowering the gun and putting it down.

“I was only at the office dear boy. I wasn’t gone far.” but Harry doesn’t seem to understand the disappointment Eggsy felt made it feel like he’d been missing Harry for months. “I hadn’t planned on staying so late.” Harry says, as he gets to his feet. He leaves behind the briefcase to go to Eggsy and immediately wraps the younger man in his arms. “I’m sorry.”

Eggy returns the embrace like it’s second nature, squeezing Harry hard. “Hey, not your fault.”

“Still. I had been looking forward to spending some of the day with you.”

“Yeah, well, Kingsman's kinda still gone to shit right now, so you’re needed more there than here.”

“Sometimes, all I want is to be needed by you and that’s it.” he sighs heavily, almost reluctantly pulling away. “But that’s wishful thinking Unfortunately.” he kisses Eggsy’s head. “Now, it’s early, so why don’t—”

“Hey hey, wait.” he grabs Harry’s hands. “If, ah, you’re not too tired, maybe I can show y’ somehtin’ I made?”

“You made something?”

“Yeah, well, baked, I guess.” now Harry as an eyebrow arched curiously. “C’mon Har! Give me some credit.” but he’s smiling.

“Well, you’ve caught my attention. Lead the way my dear.”

So Eggsy does, the clattering of claws follows behind them. Eggsy’s a tad nervous now, opening the fridge and pulling out the desert he made. It’s nothing too complicated but nothing too simply either. He feels it was a good mid, one that warranted ‘anniversary dessert’. “Ta da.” it’s an Arctic Roll and it looked pretty good from what he found online and he hopes it tastes just as good.

Harry looks impressed at least. “And you made all of this?”

“Kinda. I bought the jam.” he shrugs.

Harry grins. “Well, it is early but, why don’t we have a try of it now? Perhaps pretend it’s still yesterday evening.”

“You sure you’re okay with that? Not too tired or anything?”

“Eggsy, I’m fine.” he holds Eggsy tightly again, gazing into his eyes. “I can sleep when I’m dead. Right now, I just want to be with you.”

Eggsy sighs then leans up on his tiptoes for a kiss. “Happy Anniversary Harry.”

“Happy Anniversary Eggsy.” he replies with a kiss of his own, a sweet one, a warm one.

They sit down to try the desert and it turns out, Eggsy does know what he’s doing when it comes to baking. Harry’s impressed and he gets plenty more kisses for it until their both in bed, curled up in each others arms. It’s their first anniversary with plenty more to come.

#hartwin #eggsy unwin #harry hart #kingsman #tss #the golden circle #tgc #my writing #gardensparrow

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kumeko · 5 years

Text

guns and roses

Prompt: I’m in pieces, somewhere you’re in pieces too

Character/Pairing: Winry, Scar, Mei, Al

A/N: Written for the @fmabfanzine zine. I got assigned to the East (but not including Xing), so I picked Ishval. I love Mei and Scar’s relationship, I wish I had put more for it.

Summary: Winry’s hands were meant for healing. She wondered if, once upon a time, Scar’s were too.

...

“This seat taken, miss?”

“Huh?” Winry looked back to see a Xingese man poke his head into her berth. Despite how new the railroad connection was, the train was already packed. People from both Xing and Amestris were eager to see a brand new world. From behind him, Winry could hear the squawking of chickens and the quiet chatter of strangers. Pulling her tool kit closer to her, she shook her head with a smile. “Nah, it’s free.”

“That’s a relief. I was afraid I’d have to stand the whole way.” He shut the door behind him, cutting off the noise. Smoothly, he sat down across from her, his bright yellow jacket catching her eye. The pattern on it was similar to the one she saw on Ling, smoky trails curling around the edges of his coat. Maybe they belong to the same clan? Her knowledge of their customs was limited at best, bits and pieces taken from both Mei and Ling.

“It’s really crowded,” she agreed before turning back to the window. As the train hurtled down the tracks, she watched as the desert scenery slowly change and transform. Sand dunes to hard rock to tiny oases, there was more to the desert than she had expected. More and yet less—despite Roy’s efforts to rebuild Ishval, there was still a long way to go. The villages she had seen were few and far between, most in some state of construction.

“Business in Xing?” her companion asked casually. He stretched his arms behind his head and leisurely reclined back. Eyeing her bag, he added, “Perhaps to set up a new shop?”

“Nothing that grand,” she laughed, opening it up to reveal a wrench. “Just checking a client.”

“Wow, you have clients in Xing?” The man leaned forward, peering into her bag. “Business must be good for you.”

“Oh no, no, no. Not in Xing.” Winry shook her hands in front of her. Despite her light-hearted tone, the next words were hard to say. Her lips formed the words but her throat refused to vocalise them.

Ishval, she mouthed and her throat dried. She could feel cool metal on her hands, her fingers on a trigger. She remembered cold hands and closed eyes and maybe she was wrong. She wasn’t ready to come here in the least.

Despite her feelings, the train kept running down the track. There was no turning back now.

-x-

The scent of sawdust and a dull heat hit her the second she stepped off the train. The whole station looked brand new, varnished wood glowing in the sunlight. Turning around, she waved goodbye to her new friend before she continued on into the station. The heat didn’t disperse once inside; if anything, it felt stuffier inside. Winry fanned herself with her free hand—never had she been gladder for her outfit than she was now.

How did anyone live here? It had been barely five minutes since she’d arrived and already her skin felt sticky, her sweat clinging to her like a second skin.

“Winry!”

Hearing her name, she scanned the station. Al’s voice still felt unusual, even though she had over two years to get used to it. She was still waiting for the metallic ring, the hollow echo that always accompanied. Hell, she was still looking for a giant suit of armour instead of a much smaller man. Once she spotted him, she practically ran up to him and enveloped him in a hug. “Al!”

“Winry!” Al laughed, hugging her back. His grip was strong and she was glad to see he was doing well. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” Pulling back, she scrutinized his face. Yep, he definitely looked fine. Whatever he was doing here and at Xing wasn’t harming him in the least. “How’s Mei?”

“She’s here.” Al let go of her and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s funny travelling with someone other than brother.”

“Oh?” Winry resisted the urge to smirk—the telltale awkwardness told her everything. It had to be an Elric thing—Ed looked exactly the same when he was embarrassed. Even Hohenheim had the same signs, according to Pinako. Averting his eyes, a light blush on his cheeks, the waver in his voice; it seemed Mei’s one-sided crush was no longer one-sided.

It would be terribly fun to tease him. Not that she would. That was an Ed thing and she hadn’t yet stooped that low.

“I’m sure it’s a lot more fun to travel with someone reasonable and not as short tempered.” Winry was certain that a certain alchemist was sneezing somewhere right about now. “Though she does have the short part.”

“Well, the temper part might not be too different either,” Al laughed as he turned toward the station doors.

“I bet she’s a lot cuter too.” To be fair, she had been spending a little too much time with Ed lately and she really couldn’t let this chance slip away. Especially when Al immediately flushed a dark red, stuttering and shaking his head so quickly she thought it’d snap off.

“Winry!” Al pleaded as she passed him. His hands flew into a million motions as he tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s-it’s…”

He couldn’t even deny it. Winry fought down her growing grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell Ed.”

Flustered Al trailed after and quietly mumbled, “Thank you.”

They stepped outside and a warm breeze hit Winry. She took a deep breath. Dry. The air was dry. As was the hard ground beneath her feet, cracked and weathered over time. Stray rocks and pebbles littered the roads and she half wondered if the reason the sand was so packed was due to the thousands of footsteps on it. The sun blazed down on them as Al led her down a street and Winry fanned herself again.

She’d survived Briggs. She could survive this too.

A drop of sweat slid down her back and she shivered. She could probably survive this. The houses on this street were mostly built and she quickly slinked into their shadows as they passed. Looking up, the houses on the street were similar to the ones in central, both in design and in material. It was unexpectedly familiar. Following her line of sight, Al smiled. “I was expecting something else when I came here too.”

“Yeah.” Winry rubbed her arm. “I was really expecting something strange. Is Xing also like this?”

“Nope! They have these rectangle roofs that are also curved and.” Al’s hands cut through the air, trying to form the shape for her. After a few minutes, he sighed and gave up. “You should just see it for yourself. Maybe when you’re done, I can take you.”

Winry considered it, tossing the idea around for a moment. It would extend her trip but Xing was really close to here. And even better, they might have new automail technology there. They could even know better techniques to deal with extreme heat. Maybe she could learn about new alloys. There had to be some, their resources were different. Glowing at the prospect, she tried to contain her excitement as she replied. “Definitely.”

It didn’t work. There must have been sparkles in her eyes because Al gave her a flat look. “Same old Winry.” He laughed then and slowed his pace. Gesturing at the window next to him, he pointed at the windows. “Apparently the army regulated how they made their buildings for centuries, so Ishavalians have lost most of their old style and techniques. But a little survived, like those windows.”

She stared at it. Now that he mentioned it, she noticed the arched curves on them, the latticed woodwork on certain sections. In some places, roses and other flowers were carved in as decorations. “Oh wow, that’s pretty.”

“Mei said the same thing too.” He now pointed to their right, to a road that intersected with theirs. “I’ll take you to market when you’re done, you’ll really like how that’s set up.”

It was tempting. Very tempting but she had to make certain of one important fact. “Is there shade?”

-x-

Winry loved the smell of oil. The sticky sensation that stayed on her hands long after she had washed them clean. Ed had once joked how it was almost a drug to her but he hadn’t been too far off. Her fingers slid across the scratched metal of her client’s arm as she made minuet fixes. The sound of metal, the motion of cranking her wrench, the entire process of a tune up was relaxing.

Which was good. She needed the calm. With Al gone and no one to talk to, her mind started to wander. To drift. To turn to the desert and its sandy dunes that hid more than it showed. She’d heard that bodies were sometimes never found in there, especially after a sandstorm, but that hadn’t been the case with her parents.

No, they had returned in a casket and now she was where they’d died. At least, she was probably somewhere near it. The Ishvalan conflict was a large one, encompassing the whole area, and while she knew how they died, she’d never found out where. It could be on this spot, rebuilt from the ground. It could be out in the wilds, broken ruins and dried blood still waiting to be found.

She didn’t like either option, didn’t like any of it. It unnerved her more than she’d expected.

Winry ran her fingers along the cool metal, trying to still her beating heart.

-x-

It seemed Al had lied to her. There weren’t one or two or even three clients. No, there was now a list full of them and her short day trip looked like it’d last a couple at least. Not that she’d complain, it kept her mind busy. Still, she was tired and she looked forward to a cool bed. The last client was out the door, her tools were packed, and there was little keeping her here.

The second she stepped out of her temporary headquarters, a small body collided with hers. No, it was not merely a collision. It was more like a cannon barreling into her. Immediately after, arms wrapped around her, constricting her movements. Winry’s hand snaked down into her bag as she stumbled. The air was knocked out of her with an oof and she tried to straighten up and regain her balance.

“Winry!” Mei sang excitedly. “It’s been so long!”

With a sigh, she let go of the wrench she was grabbing. Her footing was uneven as it was; she didn’t need Mei’s happy dance to topple them over. “Mei! You scared me.”

“How?” Mei cocked her head curiously as she let go.

Despite Mei’s newfound height, it seemed some things never changed. Winry let it go, it wasn’t worth the effort. “How’ve you been?”

“Great! I’ve been training with Alphonse.” Mei almost melted into a puddle. Her hands cupped her cheeks, her eyes lit happily. She started to skip down the road. “He’s learning really quickly.”

It didn’t surprise her in the least. Both Elric brothers had figured out how to create a hommucli when they were children, after all. Winry quickly followed after her. Immediately, she regretted everything. Mei was some sort of madman, walking more in the sun than not, and Winry was sweltering within seconds. “That’s good. Where are we going?”

“To Alphonse!” She grinned as she turned around, her arms clasped behind her back. Now she was skipping backwards. Absolutely a madman. “He’s making dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?” That made her pause, the statement running through her head over and over. For some reason, all she could imagine was a suit of armour in an apron, even though she hadn’t seen it in two years. “He can cook now?”

“I’ve been teaching him.” Mei flushed lightly. She grabbed her wrists delicately, for once looking embarrassed. Her pace slowed to a casual stroll. “He’s really good. Better than me.”

Winry stared at her before patting her shoulder. “Trust me, he loves your cooking.”

“Really?” Mei beamed and maybe Winry shouldn’t have encouraged her because all of a sudden she was back to skipping. “I’ll show you the city.”

She made all of three steps before Mei spotted an Ishvalan and zoomed toward them. Winry laughed and followed after. If there was one thing you couldn’t call Mei, it was predictable. She was asking something, her hands making circler motions.

The Ishvalan shook his head, his mullet bobbing with the motion. The wrong move. Winry didn’t even need to hear what they were discussing to know that. If anything, it made Mei even more insistent and she’d latched onto his arm. By the time Winry was close, the matter was settled with a gruff, “Fine, I’ll go.”

There really was no arguing with Mei.

“What’s—” Winry froze as the man turned around. Despite how everything else about him had changed, the one thing time couldn’t erase was the scar on his face. There was a pounding in her ears. She swallowed thickly. “Scar?”

His eyes widened before he gently shook off Mei. Patting her on the head, he tipped his head to the pair. “I have to attend something.”

“Huh?” Mei looked quizzically between them before slapping her forehead. “I’m sorry, Winry. I forgot.”

That confirmed it. Scar had survived that final battle, despite the reports.

-x-

“He’s been helping with reconstruction,” Al explained, biting his lip as he looked at her concerned. They were sitting in the apartment he’d rented, crowding around a small table. Even Mei Mei was taking part, sitting on the table and eating a bamboo stick as they talked.

It had been a long time since they’d had or needed a debriefing. Faintly, it reminded her of their travels for the philosopher’s stone. “How’d he survive?”

Al paled and looked away. “Major General Armstrong.”

His voice was quiet, as though she could hear him from Briggs. Winry shivered, remembering the fierce, icy woman. She hadn’t spent much time with the Major General but even that was enough. She was her fort personified. If Al said it was because of her, then that was it. There was really no need for an explanation beyond that. “She sent him here?”

“He had to come. If he didn’t want to…” Al shivered. “Who could tell her no?”

“Impossible,” Winry agreed.

“I don’t think she’s that bad.” Mei looked between the pair bemused. “I’m sure she’s nice.”

Al stared at her, then at the door as though Olivier Armstrong would barrel in at those words. “You never even met her!”

“So? I’ll meet her the next time she inspects, then.”

Even Mei Mei, who’d just been eating till now, shook his head vigorously. Winry gripped her friend’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. “Some things are better left unknown.”

Mei nodded slowly, not quite comprehending. “Okay.”

“Anyways, Scar’s been helping rebuild Ishval.” Al’s hands tapped the table softly. “He doesn’t even seem like the same man sometimes.”

“He’s always been nice,” Mei protested, puffing her cheeks in a pout. Turning to Winry, she clasped her hands. “Even before, he helped me a lot. I know…” She fell silent for a moment, carefully mulling her words. “I know you can’t forgive him. You don’t have to but please don’t hate him.”

Her voice was soft. It was so un-Mei –like it caught her off guard and Winry couldn’t respond. “Hate?” Winry looked down at their joined hands, at the lines it made. Lives crisscrossed and knitted together just as tightly as their fingers did now. Even a girl from Resembool and a man broken in a civil war could be connected in unexpected ways. “I don’t…”

Your hands are for healing, Ed had told her once. It took her weeks to understand that, to see her smiling customers and realize just how close she was to losing it all. Had Scar felt the same way? If she didn’t have Ed, if she’d lost it all, could she have gone down that path? She wanted to say no but she knew better. Everyone was a lot closer to that edge, whether they admitted it or not.

“I don’t hate him.” Winry gave a tepid smile. Just as her hands were not made for killing, her heart was not made for hating.

But hatred and liking and even forgiveness were all very different things.

-x-

Winry shivered, hugging herself as she walked the dimly lit street to her hotel. The day had been so hot, how could the night be so damn cold? It was a desert! Rubbing her arms, she looked up to see the stars, a million pinpricks in a black cloth. At least the view here was great. Apparently the sunrise and sunset were beautiful at the outskirts of the city, painting the desert sand soft reds and oranges.

Maybe she’d try to catch it tomorrow.

A soft mewing sound caught her attention. To her left, just outside the pool of light, a man crouched down to feed a dozen stray cats. Their bodies weaved and pushed one another aside as they tried to get to his hands. One head butted his leg and Winry softly giggled. It seemed Al wasn’t the only one who loved cats. He had competition. The man turned his head slightly, his profile coming into view, and it was Scar.

Her breath hitched at the sight. Scar. There was something akin to a gentle smile on his face, the expression too soft for her to be certain. So even he could look like that.

So even he could be kind. Despite Mei’s words, she hadn’t quite believed them. Noticing her, Scar stiffened and turned away. So even he could feel awkward.

It was funny, but despite it all, Winry had never considered him human before this. He had to be, of course he had to be. She’d even heard and understood what he’d been through. There had been no peace in understanding, no joy in learning, just cold facts that did little to explain why her parents never opened their eyes again.

Despite all of that reading, none of those facts sunk in as deeply as his hunched over back, his stiff posture. Guilt was a complicated thing and she wondered if his feelings had changed at all since she’d faced him off with that gun. For a weapon that could do so much damage, it had been surprisingly light. Even the trigger had been easy to pull, the soft click a feature in some of her nightmares.

Winry almost passed him. Reconsidering it, she approached him instead. “You’re helping this town?”

Still tense, he continued to dole out food to the cats. For a long moment, she thought he was going to ignore her. Slowly, he answered, “Not just the town. My people…most of our knowledge was lost. I still have a little.”

“Because you were a priest?” A holy man bent on revenge. Even without knowing anything about his culture, she was certain that was a strange to his people as well. In another life, perhaps his hands wouldn’t have been for killing either.

“Yes.” He stroked a cat’s head. Al definitely would be jealous. “I can read what others cannot.”

So even he had moved on. Time really did change everything. Softly, she muttered, “So you’re not just destruction then.”

At this, he looked up at her and she covered her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that last part aloud. Scar studied her for a moment then at his arms. They were covered by long sleeves but he pushed them up to reveal tattoos on both arms. “Destruction and construction. I never understood it before. I might not understand it now.” He let go and the cloth fell back down, hiding his marks. “I want to try.”

That was a sentiment Winry could understand. Crouching next to him, she petted a cat. She could feel his eyes on her, warily waiting for her next move.

She wasn’t quite sure what that’d be. They were sitting in the desert, feeding cats, and it was funny how something she always thought of as dead could have so much life. The desert could do more than just take, it seemed. Maybe one day she could look at it and not feel afraid. Maybe one day she could see Scar and forget the weight of a gun.

There was no forgiveness just as there was no hate. Some crimes went beyond either. But there was a boundary between the two, a fine line that fit her just right, and she wanted to find that. She wanted to try too.

So, to start with, she focused on this one man, on this one question. Winry looked at him. “Your name isn’t actually Scar, is it?”

#fmab #winry rockbell #scar #alphonse elric #may chang #fanfic

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keeroo92 · 5 years

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Savior, Bloodstain, Hellfire, Shadow Ch25 (V x Reader)

Chapter 25 - To Mourn is to Have Loved

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June 15th, 8:32 am

It doesn’t take you long to put two and two together when you regain consciousness to the smell of nicotine and oil, the feeling of comfortable padding beneath your body a dead giveaway. You clench your jaw and seethe in silent frustration at your failure, already making the logical assumption that V must have gotten you away from the horse and its rider.

Back in Nico’s van again… did he seriously leave me behind again?

You open your bleary eyes to ask, fully expecting to find your mechanically inclined friend working on some contraption nearby, box of cereal on hand.

Instead, a young brunette in a spare change of Nico’s clothes greets you with a wary smile, her short hair bouncing slightly as she moves closer to you. Her eyes are extraordinary, one red and the other a bluish-green shade.

“Hey, how ya feeling?” the strange woman asks kindly. You stare at her blankly for a long moment of awkward silence before her question penetrates your stupefied mind.

“Uh, okay I guess. Who, sorry, but who are you?” you ask her uncomfortably and she makes a face as she responds.

“Oh yeah, my bad. I’m Lady, good to meet you! Nico said your name is Y/N, right?”

You sit up slowly, still slightly disconcerted at the presence of a new person, after so long not seeing a new face. “Yeah, that’s right. What’s going on? Wait, the Lady? As in, Dante’s friend who faced Urizen Lady?”

Holy shit, she’s alive?

Lady’s oddly colored eyes darken at the mention of the demon king and she looks away as she mutters a quiet yes, biting her lip anxiously. You wince in guilt and sympathy at the obvious signs of trauma she displays before her face resets into a guarded smile.

“Sorry, that’s probably not a pleasant memory,” you apologize quickly. Lady’s eyes soften slightly, and the tenseness in her body eases just as Nico tromps into the van with a sigh, smelling like she just finished a cigarette outside.

“Any word ye- oh hey you’re awake!” she blurts with a wide-eyed grin, coming to sit next to you and wrap an arm over your shoulders affectionately.

“Before ya ask, V’s fine. He and Nero went back out together after he brought ya to me. They’re in the subway now,” she informs you carefully, and your shoulders tense as frustration pools low in your belly.

I swear, if they’re gone for three days again he won’t have to worry about merging with Urizen! I’ll kill him myself!

A familiar sound stops your furious thoughts from spiraling any further as your old phone rings from the front seat. Nico gestures at you to do the honors and you pick it up silently, still upset at both of the two men who might be on the other side.

“Is Y/N awake yet?” V’s worried voice asks impatiently. You warm with the knowledge that his first concern is you, anger at being left behind fading to a low hum in the back of your mind as you answer him.

“I don’t know, is she?”

A relieved sigh greets you, followed by a low chuckle. “When she speaks, the voice of heaven I hear,” he purrs finally, making a shiver run down your back at his playful tone. You have to clear your throat before you respond.

“Where are you guys?”

“Oh, you’re going to love this, little fox… we’re in the subway exit by the opera house,” he replies, and you can hear the amusement in his voice easily. You grin enthusiastically and try not to squeal with excitement.

“We’ll be right there!” you tell him happily, and he rewards you with another dry chuckle before saying goodbye and disconnecting.

You turn to face Nico, a glimmer in your eyes and a smirk twisting your lips as you speak.

“How fast can you get us to the opera house subway station?”

Her face splits and she cracks her neck as she stands, already striding to the driver’s seat with a confident sparkle in her gaze. You join her up front in the passenger seat and strap in hurriedly, fully expecting Nico’s unfathomable driving style to make the precaution necessary. You look back to see Lady roll her entrancing eyes and brace herself on the couch as the van lurches into motion.

For once, I’m grateful she’s such an insane driver!

Nico takes an access tunnel to get underground, the van speeding through the darkness rapidly. She seems to naturally know how to get where she’s going, not once stopping and looking around and no map anywhere in sight. To your amazement, it only takes her five minutes to reach the two men; with a final burst of speed the van smashes through a concrete wall and comes to rest in the low lighting of a subway tunnel with a screech of rubber.

“Help has arrived! Got any cash?” Nico shouts at V from the open window, but he ignores her and instead comes to your side to open the door for you with a smirk. You unbuckle your seatbelt and take his outstretched hand, wrapping your arms around him in a hug the moment your feet touch the ground.

He smells so good…

You tilt your neck upwards to press your lips against his briefly, all too aware of your audience as Nico wolf whistles. You shoot a glare at her as you pull away from V but she only waggles her eyebrows in return with a suggestive grin.

“Get your things, little fox. Nero’s waiting for us above,” V murmurs quietly and you beam at the thought of traveling with both of your two favorite men, and possibly being able to see the opera house again. You dash inside the van and grab your weapons and backpack excitedly, barely noticing Lady and Nico in your rush. You rummage through your suitcase for a moment, adding a few choice items to the backpack before you hug Nico goodbye, waving at Lady as you rejoin V where he waits, reading silently.

“Ready!” you announce, and he calmly closes his book, exaggerating his slowness as he tucks it away in his vest, smirking at your eagerness. Impatient, you start walking backwards away from him teasingly, his emerald eyes sparkling in amusement as he catches up to you in a few of his lengthy strides. Together, you ascend into daylight, blinking like bats at the sudden change in brightness.

For a moment you aren’t sure where you are, the landscape so heavily mangled by the Qlipoth that you don’t recognize it. Chunks of rubble are strewn everywhere, the road split into several different levels from the numerous roots making their home beneath the pavement. You pan your gaze, noting the red double decker buses and gasp as you see the buildings in the distance.

The previously flat area now features multiple levels of elevation, several structures having been forced to new heights above their foundations by several stories. Through a gap in the devastation, you can see the main structure of the Qlipoth. The way it moves slightly, as if it’s taunting you, makes your blood boil in rage.

We’re coming for you, Urizen! You’ll pay for what you’ve done.

Then you see the opera house and your rage vanishes inside a well of sadness.

The entirety of the front entryway is gone. The wall with the mural of La Boheme, the beautifully carved columns that framed it, the gilded arches that led to the balcony stairwells. Even the damn bathrooms are gone. Where once stood the most awe-inspiring façade you’d ever seen, only empty air remains. Your entire body sags, a mournful ache settling in your gut.

“It’s… it’s gone…” you whisper, disbelief staining your voice.

I’ll never get to see an opera there…

“Not all of it, little fox. Look down,” V tells you gently, his words a tiny puff of air that rekindles the ember of hope in your heart.

The ember sparks a flame as your eyes drift downwards to see the performance hall mostly intact, the stage still holding set pieces from the most recent show. Decorative statues have fallen from their homes on the columns, their shining forms lying in the refuse near the lip of the stage. The balconies stand in silent judgement of the scene, their red hangings an echo of the heavy cloth that still drapes across the stage.

At least there’s that much left.

“Would you like a closer look?” V asks you nearby. His hand finds yours, long fingers filling the gaps between your own perfectly. You give him a grateful squeeze as you take the first step downhill, following the path of the devastated roadway down as far as it will take you. Halfway down, Nero steps into view from behind a fallen column, a wry smirk adorning his features.

“Took you guys long enough… feeling alright, Y/N?” he asks you as you reach him, already pulling you into a one-armed hug. You nod against his firm shoulder before he releases you to scratch the back of his neck uncomfortably, a light stain coloring his cheeks at the obvious display of his care for you.

“We should get moving,” V states simply. Nero nods and the three of you continue on down the road toward the opera house. To your surprise, there are lit torches on the stage, the flames licking in a ghostly shade of blue. The shade reminds you of the horse and rider and you shudder uncomfortably. The sets are beautiful, painted castles and towns made of plywood. You try to imagine what it must have looked like during a performance, the singers costumed in medieval style dress powerfully singing their arias to a full crowd, the masses dressed in their finest to match the elegance of the venue.

They’ll rebuild it. They have to.

You climb onto the stage, Nero and V beside you as your curiosity drives you forward. Even if you do manage to see an opera someday, you doubt you’ll be able to sit this close let alone have the opportunity to explore backstage. Energy surges through you at the thought, a pleased flush staining your grinning cheeks.

I wonder what kinds of props I’ll find? Or if there are any costumes in the back?

Five loud crashes crush your dreams of exploration as a quintet of demonic knights drops down from above, swords and shields held menacingly in front of their intimidating forms. You recognize them; these are the same type of demon that sliced your hip open all too recently. You take a few fearful steps back as Nero and V advance, your stomach dancing in a ballet of terror.

“Nice! Getting the band back together, huh?” Nero quips with a taunting smirk.

“What evil lurks… I must destroy!” V intones harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose and glaring intensely at the foes. You swallow nervously and draw your sword, mentally preparing yourself to fight as defensively as you can and stay out of the two men’s way, hoping you don't get hit again.

“I thought that was the plan all along,” Nero comments dryly, drawing his own sword.

A cacophonous rumble draws your attention behind you as the heavy golden frame of the stage crashes to the ground, more stone joining it as the entire stage starts to rumble under your feet. Your eyes widen and you catch your breath as the stage moves, the structure no longer held in place and sliding downhill at a speed to rival Nico’s driving. Adrenaline pulses through you, realizing you have nowhere to run now.

This day just keeps getting better...

V flicks his wrist and a whirlwind of black announces Griffon and Shadow’s arrival as he drops into his battle stance, eyes glued on the demons as he circles the stage gracefully. Griffon dashes forward to land a heavy blow with his talons against the center demon. It stands slightly taller than its fellows, its cape a beautiful shade of violet. Shadow shoots ahead with numerous black spikes elongating from her body, reaching out to strike the same central demon.

Nero aims his pistol one handed, squeezing the trigger repeatedly and releasing a stream of bullets on the same tall demon. He lowers the gun once it’s empty, switching to his blade and surging forward with a cry, slashing powerfully against the demon’s waist. It staggers but recovers quickly and aims at the young warrior. Your heart clenches as the sword descends, remembering how painful it was to be slice by the brutal blade, but Nero artfully dodges to the side with a laugh. He hops lightly, landing briefly on top of the neighboring demon and slashes at it as he drops down behind it, his sword leaving a nasty trail in its wake.

You’re forced to redirect your attention as one of the shielded knights advances on you, its steps slow and measured and easy to counter. For a moment your fear paralyses you, the echo of the ache in your hip reemerging in a treacherous reminder of what happens when these demons land a blow. Gathering your senses, you back away carefully, looking for an opening in its stance to exploit but the shield is too large.

“V! Nero! Can you hit it from behind while it’s focused on me?” your panicked voice shouts out to your allies, not taking your eyes off the enemy before you for an instant. You see a flash of motion behind the demon, a sound like an aluminum can being crushed, and it starts dissolving into ash before your eyes to reveal Nero already sprinting to the next foe. You scan the stage, taking stock of the battle.

V is on the other side, intense emerald gaze locked on the lead demon as he directs Griffon and Shadow’s brutal attacks. Two of the lesser knights remain, Nero engaging one nearby and the other advancing on his unprotected back. A split second of terror and hesitation hits you before you tenaciously subdue the fear and run forward, blade extended as you attack the demon sneaking up on your friend.

Your blade strikes true, piercing its upper thigh through the armor, much to your surprise. You pull the blade back, eyes wide and fear-dilated as it turns to face you, and over its silver shoulder you spot Nero finish off the other knight and turn to help you with yours. His blade flashes out, hacking the demon’s armor apart forcefully. It staggers and you step forward with a vengeful grown to land a slash of your own on its arm, your blade somehow ripping through the metal once again. With a final shout, Nero hacks at its head and the armored creature dissolves into ash.

That just leaves the tall knight. It’s still focused on V, his summoned friends having thoroughly marked it with their unforgiving blows. Its armor is dented and scratched, riven in two in some places and dripping demon blood. Nero sprints forward, but you refrain. You know the two men can finish it off easily enough.

“Slice them,” V’s dark battle tone commands, and Shadow shifts into her familiar bladed form, the sharp edge splitting the demon’s armor even further. She lands just as Nero lunges forward, his flaming blade piercing right through the creature’s gut in a death blow.

“Guys! We gotta get OFF THIS THING NOW!” Griffon cries from above. Shadow vanishes, her portion of V’s tattoos darkening to mark her return as he dashes alongside you and Nero for the edge of the stage and leaps off. The three of you land more or less gracefully on the earthen ground and turn to watch as the stage falls into a pit of darkness, a chasm opened by the Qlipoth. You choke back a sob as the last remaining portion of your beloved opera house sinks into the depths, never to be seen again.

NOW it’s gone… gone forever. Even if it is rebuilt it won’t be the same.

It strikes you then, how odd it is that you’re as upset by the loss of this historic building as you are by the loss of thousands of the lives of your fellow citizens. Maybe because you never bonded with anyone in the city, never cared enough to try. None of them mattered to you, not really. You were upset that they were dead, enraged by the situation, yet felt almost no personal grief for them. You cared when their lives were in your hands, but that wasn’t a personal connection; more a result of your soul-crushing guilt than evidence of your humanity.

The opera house had meant something to you, had stood as a symbol of hope in a hopeless world. A beacon of the arts when you needed it most, when every day was the same as the one before and you couldn’t see a path forward that actually resulted in happiness for you.

And now it’s gone.

The tightness in your chest intensifies, tears threatening to spill from your quivering eyes as V comes to stand beside you. His hand finds yours, fingers twining together tenderly as he speaks.

“I’m sorry, little fox. I know it meant quite a lot to you,” he murmurs softly, and you let out a shuddering breath and squeeze his hand in gratitude for his understanding.

“It… it did. But it was only a building. There are more important things to worry about,” you remind him with a sad smile.

Nero comes over to stand on V’s other side, a rueful smirk twisting his lips. “Took us long enough to get here. What, tired already?” he teases you and V, making light of the tense expressions on your faces.

“I’ve just remembered something… This town was attacked once before,” V announces with surprise coloring his tone.

“Is that so?” Nero comments.

V steps forward, pulling you with him as he approaches a small green horse mounted on a metal coil; a child’s playground toy.

“I was here… I can still see it. In fact I was playing right here,” V adds, dropping your hand to reverently touch the green horse in memory. His eyes seem haunted as he looks around, searching for something. He uses his cane to point to a house in the distance.

“That was the house,” he continues, “This is where we part ways. You go ahead.”

You and Nero both stare at the lean poet in surprise, eyes wide at his declaration.

“You’re gonna miss all the fun,” Nero teases lightly. V takes your hand again and frowns slightly, his emerald gaze darkening.

“No, I must seek the devil sword Sparda,” he rumbles, and Nero stares at him in shock.

What the hell is he talking about? And why does Nero look so… scared?

“What? Yeah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea, trust me,” the young warrior urges the poet, worried gaze flicking to yours for some support. You have no idea what’s going on and stay silent.

“You are not the only one who thinks so. But to win this fight, we’re going to need all the help we can get,” the poet assures him, turning to walk away with you following close behind. You shoot one last concerned look at Nero before you and V leave him behind,

The two of you walk in silence for a long time, navigating a labyrinth of wreckage and devastation. Your confusion swirls in your mind as you try fruitlessly to remember something, anything, you may have heard or read about this supposedly powerful sword. Nothing comes to mind and you sigh in frustration as you give up and ask V.

“So, what’s the deal with this sword?”

The tattooed poet hums softly in acknowledgement, choosing his words carefully as he steps over a hunk of stone in his path. “It’s a blade with a complicated history. Originally it was wielded by Sparda himself, and when he sealed the Underworld off he imbued the sword with his power to strengthen the seal. To this day, it holds that power. It is most effective in the hands of Sparda’s kin, though it requires great strength of body and mind. I have a theory that Nero is a descendant of Sparda, and he may be able to wield it against Urizen,” the poet explains patiently.

Oh, ok then. It’s just a sword that has demonic power inside it. Totally normal.

What even is my life anymore?

A few short steps later and the two of you emerge in the remains of a graveyard, some of the graves having been shifted so far by the Qlipoth’s growth as to now be at a ninety degree angle from the ground you stand upon. V pauses at the precipice of a steep cliff, twisting his wrist to summon Griffon in a maelstrom of black shards as his arm lightens considerably. The blue demon lands on a nearby plinth with a flutter.

“What’s up, Shakespeare? Little lady,” the avian caws out, his three pronged beak splitting in a reminder of his strange origins.

“We need you to get a closer look around, the devil sword Sparda is nearby and we must find it,” V instructs him, and he lifts off with a huff.

“More scout duty… alright, be right back,” Griffon complains as he flaps away. You wait with V at the edge, glancing quickly at the crevasse below with a shudder.

Don’t fucking fall here.

Griffon returns quickly, clearly agitated by whatever he spotted.

“Did you find it?” V inquires quietly.

“Uh, well… I don’t know what I found, but… I think I saw some demon’s dancing?” Griffon replies uneasily.

“Dancing? Are you serious?” you question the bird, and he nods seriously back at you as V speaks.

“Well, then I guess we keep going. The devil sword Sparda is nearby,” he comments with a wry smirk. He reaches out to take your hand and steps forward, eager to continue your trek.

The way forward is difficult, requiring you to scramble up over massive slabs of rocks periodically. A few Empusa rudely try to stop you, but are dealt with disdainfully by V. You enter a wide courtyard to see a few Caina and you draw your sword with a feral grin. Before you have the chance to cut them down, a low rumble sounds somewhere behind you. V roughly shoves you aside and follows quickly with a short tumble to the side as an armored Behemoth comes barreling through, turning the Caina into roadkill as it passes through the courtyard.

It slams into a stone mausoleum, the structure crumbling as the creature turns to face you and V. Taking another look at the beast before you, you sheath your sword and pull out your chainsaw-bat, activating the mechanism instantly with a snarl. The Behemoth rushes at you, it’s movements so linear that you easily move out of its path and drag the spinning blades against the chains holding its armor in place. One of the sheets of metal falls to the ground as the chain breaks, revealing a section of flabby grey flesh to your vision.

A slough of lightning balls shoots straight into the exposed area and the creature growls angrily as it turns around, its grey flesh seared like a fine steak. You spot a few Caina and an Antenora scrabbling through their small portals as the Behemoth charges again, and you have no choice but to dodge directly into the attack range of one of the Caina. You bring the bat up as you streak past it, blocking its scythe attack hastily. Adrenaline surges through your body as you shift the bat into a one-handed grip and draw your sword, slashing it against the Caina as its only weapon is locked against yours. The Caina disintegrates and you turn your attention back to the Behemoth.

V has managed to get another chunk of armor off, and the second Caina is already gone. Only the Antenora and the Behemoth remain. The Antenora is closer to you and you drop the bat as you prepare to face it. It rages toward you, a berserker-esque charge if ever you’d seen one, and you dodge yet again. Its swinging arms manage to strike you as you move, throwing you off balance and forcing your body to the ground. Your forehead strikes a rock as you fall and blood runs in rivulets down one side of your face as you scramble to your feet, desperate to put some distance between yourself and the Antenora.

Assess the damage.

Other than the stream of crimson tinting your vision, everything looks as it should. No dizziness and you’re still able to think normally.

No concussion, then. Just a cut.

You wipe the blood away with an irritated growl and turn to ace the Antenora again. Just as you’re about to attack it, Shadow races over and shifts, several black tendrils reaching out from her body to deliver a series of blows to the demon. You move in and stab your sword through its chest and it disintegrates.

You glace back to the Behemoth to see V landing on the back of its neck, sinking his silver cane deep into its face as he croons to it.

“Resist all you want…”

He gives his cane a sharp twist, his body following the motion into a flawless pirouette as he looks it in the eye in its final moments.

“What a pitiful sight,” he snarls and the Behemoth turns to ash, blowing away in the soft breeze.

His emerald eyes find your in the next instant, lips twisting in concern at the amount of blood on your face as he strides over to you.

“Are you alright?” he asks worriedly.

“Yeah, just a small scratch. Head wounds always bleed a lot,” you assure him and he smirks, leaning down to kiss you briefly before you sit down to press some gauze to the wound, helping slow the bleeding enough that it actually clots. Once you have a respectable scab formed, you stand and take V's hand, setting off again.

V is unusually quiet as you descend into a dark cave, a lake of filthy water shining in the low light. It’s difficult to tell what the structures here were before the Qlipoth, their forms so abused and broken as to be unrecognizable. Griffon has to help in a few spots, but overall traversing it isn’t difficult.

“You’re awfully quiet, V. Thinking about mommy dearest?” Griffon pipes up suddenly.

His mother? Griffon makes it sound like something important…

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t. But the past is… a bitter place for me,” V answers distractedly.

Definitely something important.

“V, did something happen to your mother?” you ask him as gently as you can, but he still tenses. His expression is agonized as he turns to face you.

“She… she died many years ago. I saw it happen. She saved my brother but left me behind,” he tells you mournfully, a lost and hurt sheen on his piercing gaze. He bites his lower lip and you step forward to wrap him in your arms, hoping you can ease his pain even by a fraction even as your mind swirls at the implications.

“I’m so sorry, my poet… I had no idea. Is that why you hate Dante so much?” you prod carefully.

“It… it is a factor, yes. We didn’t get along well as children, too different but alike in our stubbornness. Eva, my mother… she tried to keep the peace, tried to treat us fairly. But even her kind heart couldn’t bridge the gap,” he answers slowly. You take his hand and lead him to a chunk of rubble to sit down for a moment.

“Do you want to tell me what happened, V?”

Please tell me…

He tenses at the idea, going rigid as he wrestles internally with his own personal demons. He clenches his jaw and swallows heavily before meeting your sympathetic gaze.

“I… I’ll try,” he responds, his tattooed fingers clinging to you like a lifeline in a stormy sea. You sit in silence, waiting as he collects himself and prepares to speak about what must have been one of the worst days of his life.

#dmc5 v #dmc5 #dmc #fanfic #v x reader #v x you #reader insert #op #SBHS #my writing #vitale

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queenallura · 6 years

Text

Form Podcast Transcript - Ep. 2

Hosted by Kyle Anderson from Nerdist

Guests: Mitch Iverson (writer), Christine Bian (design supervisor), and Tim Hedrick (story editor)

Episode 1x02 “Some Assembly Required”

Kyle Anderson (KA): Hello everyone. Welcome back to the second episode of Form Podcast.. This is the official Voltron commentary podcast. My name is Kyle Anderson and today we’re going to be doing a commentary of season 1, episode 2 “Some Assembly Required.” And I’m here with three people who helped to make the show, and they can introduce themselves right now.

Mitch Iverson (MI): Hi, I’m Mitch Iverson. I’m a writer on the show.

Christine Bian (CB): Hi, I’m Christine Bian, and I am the prop and background design supervisor.

Tim Hedrick (TH): I’m Tim Hedrick, I’m the head writer.

CB: Woo woo!

KA: Welcome! And everyone at home, make sure that your Netflix episode is all queued up to all zeroes because we’re gonna hit play when I say “play” again, the third time. Three, two, one, play. We did it.

TH: Netflix. Right guys?

CB: *hums the theme song*

KA: It’s an original series.

TH: What a great company.

[someone makes an explosion sound]

MI: Can we just do sound effects?

KA: Yeah, sure! It’s your show.

TH: Here’s some of the fantastic lions that Christine designed.

CB: Oh shucks Tim, thanks.

TH: When you look at them, do you think, “These are my kids.” They’re on the screen, and they’re kinda looking at me, like, “Mommy’s here.”

CB: Uh, yeah. I get a little bit of that.

MI: Do you worry about how much college is going to cost one day.

CB: Yeah totally. And you know, have they eaten today, you know? I think especially the first time we saw them on screen, you know, for these first couple episodes, I remember I was like “oh my gosh, it’s real now.”

MI: Well you did a fantastic job.

CB: Oh you guys. Thank you.

TH: Hunk, still in his pajamas.

CB: Shiro would be working out before everybody else is up.

TH: I love that my name comes up next to Lance, who’s sleeping, like yes, perfect. That’s where I want to be.

KA: Some of the paladins didn’t even bother putting on pajamas. They’re just like, “I’m going to sleep in my clothes.”

CB: Yeah, I think it speaks a lot to Hunk’s character that even though it was the first night or second night, he’s like, “I gotta be comfy.”

MI: As a guy who has fluctuated from bigger weights to smaller weights every now and then, we you get a little bigger you gotta get some breathing material.

CB: Even when you’re not bigger, I feel like big pajamas, that’s the way to go. For flights over a couple of hours, I actually bring pajamas onto the plane and I change into them, because I’m like, I’m not going to sit here all uncomfortably for, you know.

MI: You know, this is something I think the fans would like-

KA: How do people fly.

TH: The travel habits of Christine Bian.

MI: -is how often Hunk moments come from within the creative staff. Somebody one time said, “Who would talk about food that much?” And it was like, “Me and Christine.”

CB: When I saw you come in here, I was like, with the three of us, is this just going to devolve into a discussion about snacks and ham?

MI: Hopefully. He did have a meat thermometer.

KA: That’s true.

CB: Ooh right here! I want to talk about the blue lion slippers, the infamous blue lion slippers. So I know some people were wondering where the slippers came from, because yes technically this is only their second night in the castle ship. But I think all three of us agree that they were made when the lions were originally made. So they were passed down from paladin to paladin and they never get stinky or anything because they’re magical Altean slippers.

TH: They have some sort of a magical fungus guard on them that Alfor created.

CB: Yep. And every time you put your foot in, it’s like the first time. You know? So all the fuzz is still all-

TH: I thought you were going to say every time you put your foot in it makes little growls like “rrr.”

CB: It does that too.

MI: Do they purr and massage your feet?

TH: Oh man.

CB: Uh yes, absolutely.

TH: Alfor, you genius.

CB: And they’re gel cooled or heated, to the perfect temperature.

TH: And the thing about Altean alchemy is even Alfor didn’t know everything that the slippers did. And they also conform to the feet of the paladins themselves.

CB: Absolutely. Like if you’ve got wide feet or whatever. In some ways the slippers are even more of a technological achievement than the lions.

MI: Little know fact, Lance had flat feet but they helped rebuild his arch.

KA: Oh wow!

CB: Oh Mitch, I didn’t know that!

CB: For this sequence [when the paladins are going to their lions from the bridge], Joaquim and Lauren had some specific [ideas]. They wanted to put in stuff from the original sequence like the zipline, and when they drop into their shuttles and stuff.

[silence]

KA: That’s really the problem, we just get sucked into these episodes and just start watching them.

[silence]

KA: We probably ought to say something so that people aren’t just listening to dead air.

TH: I think that when were were talking about the ziplines early on, Hunk falling of the zipline was inspired by me saying, “So you gotta hang off of that zipline all the way down?” I’m sure that I would fall off almost immediately. How long do they slide down that thing? It seems like a really long way.

MI: I get sweaty hands, which is embarrassing but truth.

TH: To be hanging onto that, for sure I’d fall off that slide.

CB: I couldn’t even do the monkey bars. I wouldn’t even try.

KA: It’s such a good sequence it’s setting up, like they made it work once but that doesn’t mean they’re great enough to do it again.

TH: It all comes together at the end of that first three episode run [1x01] where they magically form Voltron right when they have to, because that’s the wonder of Voltron, but now it’s like without that extra adrenaline rush they just don’t do it. And then we were just trying to think of like, how would you do that? If you were trying to form Voltron. Would you just stack up?

CB: That adrenaline thing is totally true.

MI: I know I’m not able to form Voltron in real life unless the heart’s pumping.

CB: As a kid once, I was running away scared from my neighbor’s dog one time and I jumped over my fence to get away from him. Once he went away I couldn’t get back over. It was the fear that driving me over the first time and then I couldn’t get back.

TH: And you were arrested for trespassing.

MI: “No, there was a dog, I swear!”

CB: To circle back around, to the Let’s Voltron podcast. Greg Tyler did do a really good blog post about the inner workings, he did like a whole breakdown of how the paladins get from the castleship bridge to the lions in the hangar.

MI: Nice.

KA: It’s like they have those big Star Trek maps of like here’s where are the lifts are or whatever-

CB: I’m just impressed that somebody that’s not on our team would take the time and effort to actually figure it out, and I’m glad it makes some sort of sense.

KA: Get one of those big cross section maps of the ship. That would be cool.

CB: Oh yeah, totally! Put it on t-shirts and whatnot.

MI: I used to always buy those cross section Star Wars or Star Trek books.

KA: Absolutely.

MI: Oh, here’s the MIllenium Falcon!

CB: I loved- like the blueprint books! Oh, I still love those. In fact I think I have that book you’re talking about.

KA: I’m sure you do. But that’s kinda like, your job.

TH: That’s work.

CB: I can write it off!

KA: So this is the second episode of this podcast. I need to task all of you, since this is your first episode on the podcast; what is your favorite lion and why?

CB: I’ll go first, give you guys some time to think about it. Mine is the Blue Lion. And the only reason for that is because he’s the first lion that we designed and built in 3D. And so that was like our learning lion; we were able to troubleshoot a lot of stuff while we were developing him. I think out of all the lions, we spent the most time with him, kinda making him out of scratch, so I’ll never forget that.

TH: How much different is the Blue Lion from the other lions, and what are the subtle differences that perhaps people are not going to pick up on?

CB: Oh well, Tim, I’m glad you asked. The leg lions are stockier, more solid in build. And then the arm lions are kinda more sleek and agile. And the black lion is kinda the most robust one since he’s the centerpiece. But I do also really like the Yellow Lion because I like his teeth. He’s got little construction digger teeth.

TH: Underbite.

CB: Underbite, yeah. But what about you guys?

TH: Well I was going to say the Yellow Lion because I think I would like to run into things with my lion. That would be a lot of fun. And he’s got the big paws that come out later and that’s pretty cool.

CB: And he’s got a big turtle shell booster shield thing, so yeah you can take a lot of damage in that lion. Go off roading with him.

MI: I’m going to go with Green because of invisibility.

KA: That’s a good one.

MI: It’s a pretty powerful tool, as a person who likes to avoid confrontation as much as possible. And then also to shoot vines at things. That’s kind of a very appropriate lion for me.

TH: I just want to point out that the yelmors are mentioned in here.

CB: Oh my gosh, the yelmors.

TH: And I’m going to go ahead and just say, keep an eye out for yelmors, fans. That’s just something-

KA: Oh?

CB: What is it that yelmors... do?

TH: You’ll find out. I guess I would just say, Christine, keep watching the show.

CB: Oh, right? What are those Yelmors famous for?

TH: Well they’re linked at the ears. They work together. They feed each other.

CB: Oh that’s right. [giggles]

MI: It’s too bad that you guys can’t see on this podcast, but we’re also linked at the ears right now.

CB: It’s true.

TH: And we do feed each other.

TH: I like the Coran-Allura dynamic in the show. Allura becomes this super cheerful drill sergeant and has the ship actively trying to kill them. And then Coran says, “Oh, yeah you probably can’t form Voltron because you haven’t been practicing for hundreds of years like the original paladins, and I just forgot to mention that.” And then brings them into this training- the whole training ground thing I think is really cool. The invisible maze. This is a cool part of the ship. One of the fun things about the castle ship is that it’s so huge, and I just imagine there are just hundreds of places we have never gone to yet.

CB: Oh yeah totally.

TH: There are multiple decks that we never get to see.

CB: One think I like about Altean technology/Altean magic, it’s a very convenient technology. So kinda whatever-

TH: Except the ziplines. They never got around to fixing that.

CB: It’s to build the paladins’ upper arm strength, Tim. You see, it’s all cleverly built into their exercise regime.

TH: Makes sense.

MI: Little known fact, those paladins, I mean the lions are hard to maneuver. Gotta get their upper arm strength strong.

KA: In later season they don’t use the ziplines any more, so they’re graduated. They’re strong enough now.

CB: Precisely.

[silence]

CB: This [the maze scene] is a really cute sequence.

KA: I like the idea of them just flying around like, this is fun I guess.

CB: One thing we really wanted our 3D models to be able to do was, because sometimes when you are compositing a 3D element into an otherwise 2D scene, the line width and line quality can really suffer from close up shots to far away shots. So that’s something that the hub team here at Dreamworks was able to develop just for our show, which is the ability to scale the lines when the lions come up close to the camera. Well, the lions and the other 3D assets. And when they recede into the camera, there’s a slider so that we can kinda manually control the line weight. Because sometimes in a 2D show with some 3D elements in it, the 3D elements will stick out because the line and the shading doesn’t match up no matter how compositing you do. So I think we see that really well here in the first episode. We see nice line width here, and then when we see the butts of the lions sticking out of the sand dunes, the lines kinda disappear out.

TH: So the lions are in 3D, the castle’s in 3D.

CB: Correct.

TH: What are the other 3D things we see in the show? We’ve got the robeasts?

CB: Yep, definitely the robeasts.

TH: All the Galra ships.

CB: Some of the Galra ships. The fight with the Galra fighter is in 3D as well as the cruisers that Sendak and his armies use.

TH: Right, those are awesome.

MI: The speeders are 3D too right?

CB: Correct, the speeders are 3D. We tried to design as many ships as we can within our budget in 3D. It’s a lot easier to have a pre-built 3D ship rather than trying to draw and turn it, all these different angles in 2D. We tried to get those big vehicles and stuff done when we can.

TH: Keith thinking about a farmhouse. Maybe he wants to be a farmer?

CB: Spam musubi and coconut shrimp.

MI: Me and Hunk are thinking about the same thing right now.

TH: What Christine was thinking of.

KA: You get just a little glimpse of what Pidge is thinking of, and it looks like a family photo but it was too fast, we couldn’t-

TH: Right.

KA: Because at this point we don’t know the secret of Pidge yet.

CB. Right, yes.

KA: We do know the secret of NIMH, but not Pidge.

TH: “Everyone has to be able to look in everyone’s head holes.” That’s one of my favorites. Yeah but this is a fun little Pidge character beat in this episode. She’s kinda holding back their ability to form Voltron because she’s got a secret that she won’t let the others know about. And everyone thinks that she’s her brother in that picture, and that’s her girlfriend.

KA: So she’s the youngest one, you know.

TH: I know. I feel like this is a really clever ruse by Pidge that she kinda plays into that. And everyone’s like, “Oh, now I feel very sorry for Pidge.” “I’m just tired.” She’s not tired. She’s not tired at all. You saw what happened at the beginning of the show, she was up working! She wasn’t sleeping.

CB: She wasn’t even in her bedroom.

TH: I think PIdge might not sleep. Just throwing that out there. I’ve never seen her sleep.

CB: Maybe she sleeps with her eyes open.

MI: What if she’s like, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

TH: Yes, that’s what it is.

MI: I’ll sleep when I find my family.

KA: These training robots are super cool looking.

TH: Yeah!

MI: The episode where they go through the Rift - that’s happened, right? It’s so hard to remember.

CB: Yes! I keep having to edit myself, like wait a minute, have we already-?

MI: Well there’s the evil Alteans, and their version of sentries are these robots, which I thought was a really cool touch.

TH: Shiro’s struggling with his PTSD after escaping the Galra.

CB: We already passed this scene - sorry Mitch, I just cut off you off - we already passed this scene but I like that the Alteans also had Capri Sun foil technology.

MI: Some design elements, they just transcend cultures.

TH: Exactly. It just makes sense.

CB: The universal-

TH: You just put your juice in a bag.

MI: Something fun I always think is the “gladiator set for a level fit for an Altean child.” It kinda seems like a burn at first but then later on you find out that Alteans are like super strong, so maybe that was really set for an Altean child!

TH: This [feeding each other] is a team exercise that I have done.

KA: Are you kidding?

TH: Where you’re all linked together and have to feed each other. Like a pack of Yelmors.

CB: Linked at the ears.

MI: That sounds so frustrating.

TH: It’s terrible. It’s the worst thing ever. And you know, they’ll have it so that like, let’s say you have a hamburger to eat. The bun’s over here, the ketchup’s over here. Nothing’s constructed. It’s not easy and you have to build everything and work together.

CB: You’ve got to assemble it? That reminds me of a Nintendo Switch game I’m playing called Overcooked.

KA: I’ve played that game.

MI: Is that the one where you have to team up to run a kitchen? I’ve seen some people playing that. That looks like actual work.

KA: It’s nerve-wracking.

CB: It gets intense. It gets really intense.

KA: We’ve done that at work before.

CB: That’s a good team bonding exercise.

MI: By the way, how awesome did that robeast look in those shots. Those shots are super cool and creepy.

CB: Yes! Super cool. That’s actually one of my favorite background designs from the first season as well done by our in-house designer William Yu. It’s actually hard to see the full genius of this design I guess you can say because it’s so dark once to went to paint. But yeah, I like how gothic and huge that space feels.

TH: Look at Coran just stepping right up. He’s willing to take that food goo right in the chest.

CB: Totally.

TH: Little “Animal House” call out here.

KA: Yep. Although I’d much rather hang out with Hunk than…what’s John Blutarsky’s character’s name?

TH: Bluto.

KA: Bluto! That’s right.

MI: I’d rather hang out with Hunk than almost anyone.

CB: I agree.

[silence]

TH: It was all part of her plan! She’s good. She is good.

KA: And they don’t clean themselves off, they just go directly to Voltron.

TH: No because they go down the zipline, it just flies off.

KA: Oh that’s right.

MI: Air cleaned.

MI: Do you think they just have a little car wash equivalent that they just kinda walk through in their suits. I guess they do, actually!

TH: Yeah they do, after they come in the decontamination room when they’re having the snowball fight on the ship.

TH: So this is a big show moment here. The first time they voluntarily form Voltron.

CB: Yes, absolutely.

TH: You see that sweet Voltron forming sequence.

CB: Oh that’s right! When I was watching this episode, I didn’t even realize that this is the first time we see the transformation sequence. We worked together with Studio Mir, and we did this sequence kinda 3D and 2D. This for example, the paw going into the leg, that was all done in 2D. Here- oh wait we don’t see it here- in other versions of the transformation, he has this secondary mask that opens up and that was done in 2D as well.

TH: And this is one of the few times they form Voltron and then just get to pose. Just relax.

CB: Nice neutral background for him to stand against. Nothing to detract attention away.

CB: It’s funny to look at the artwork and design work in these first episodes because at this point we were still-. Oh wait, I just gotta stop and say, one of the first versions of this design - the castleship lounge - there was a vending machine and a coffee maker. I don’t know what happened to it, I think we just decided that with all the-

TH: It just has a little hatch and the coffee comes out

CB: It’s more Altean that way.

MI: What were you saying? You were saying something else.

CB: Oh right! What was I saying?

KA: You were talking about original designs.

CB: Right. It’s funny to look at the environments in the first couple episodes because we were kinda still, at that point we were still finding our own visual language and the style and everything. It just makes me think back to a lot of the stuff we used for reference. Like at the time there was a video game trailer that came out for a game called Rhyme. And when we saw it we were like, oh, that’s such a cool style, that vibe. We could kind of use it for inspiration for planet Arus.

KA: Man.

CB: Wow, that episode went by so fast!

KA: I’m saying, they do. But we can keep talking. That’s the beauty of this podcast, we can just keep going if we wanted to.

CB: I was going to say, I have so much to say about the slippers!

MI: She’s not joking.

TH: I hope that the merchandising people are listening to this and thinking about their slippers and accessories. It just doesn’t seem like the things are coming out fast enough.

CB: I agree.

MI: That could be Christmas’s hot item.

TH: It could be.

KA: The Blue lion slippers? Or just lion slippers in general.

CB: I mean each paladin actually has their own slippers. The black lion slipper, green, yellow.

KA: Shiro doesn’t seem like a slipper guy.

CB: He doesn’t seem like it, but I think out of all of them, he’s the most secret kind of comfort - you know, I bet he has, like, cashmere pajamas. Work hard, relax hard, goes to the spa, gets manicures.

TH: What I’ve wanted is a Voltron lion potholder, you know, like oven mitts.

CB: Oven mitts! Genius. I love it.

T: I don’t know why we don’t have those. That can go with the slippers and then maybe black lion can be some kind of apron with a little hat that goes on the top.

CB: I love it. To keep your shirt clean and your hair clean.

TH: Yes exactly, like a hairnet.

CB: No I like it.

MI: Hygienic.

KA: If the marketing people aren’t listening, at least the cosplayers should be listening because these are all great, super awesome ideas.

CB: Please signal boost these ideas out onto the internet.

KA: Well thank you guys so much for watching this episode you helped make and I did nothing but enjoy. We’ll go around to everybody and see what your Twitter handle or whatever social media platform you’d like to plug.

CB: Oh, okay! Go ahead Tim.

TH: You can reach me on Twitter @TheTimHedrick

CB: I am @, um, I think I’m @Christinebean33

MI: And I am @mitch_iverson. I had to look it up real quick.

CB: Mitch, actually, can you look up mine up too just to make sure.

CB: Okay yeah, I am @Christinebean33

KA: So if you want to share your travel stories with what you wear when you go traveling.

TH: Oh man you know where to send them.

MI: Or if you want to talk about food.

KA: Or if you want to talk about food!

CB: Oh man. We’re going to save that for another episode. Just talking about the food.

KA: We hope you guys come back for another episode because there’s a lot left to go. But thank you guys for listening. I’ve been Kyle Anderson, you can follow me on Twitter at @FunctionalNerd. And we’ll see you next time here on Form Podcast.

#voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld lance #form podcast #transcript #form podcast transcripts #long post

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avengers-nextgen · 6 years

Text

AU Propositions

So, I have been thinking about doing an AU along with the main series. Below are the theee options I’m willing to write! Each has a snippet or sample of material for that given AU. Please vote on which one you’d like to see based off of wha I’ve written.

— — —

Apocalypse

Factions, were all that remained. Years ago the government was overthrown, the world dissolved into chaos, and loyalty became an illusion. Patriotism no longer existed, one governing body was replaced with many, maps were re-made, and alliances dictated territory.

Ram shackled buildings made up towns, and once superior technology was now lost. The wars had ravaged scientific advancement putting the world’s technological timeline in reverse.

Enemies lurked at every corner as nations tried to re-establish themselves. Safety didn’t exist.

The only hope anyone had was the next generation-the offspring of surviving fighters. Tides were beginning to shift, and alliances were converging to form four powerful states. Keeping peace was increasingly difficult, but the few unattached townships were looking to restore America. If one nation could rebuild itself, then others could too.

— — —

A bullet ridden sign held a few straggling letters naming the town NEW O, also known as ground Zero.

Smoke wafted into the sky, streaming up in plumes from piped chimneys.

“The stables aren’t far,” James assured, stepping aside as a barefoot kid ran past, “we take a ride down south and check on Havoc Sector.”

“Right, my favorite place to be,” Piper sighed, adjusting her backpack.

“It’s just a quick round up,” Alex tried to brighten the mood, “nothing major. Get the medicine, distribute it, and head home.”

“Last time we sent someone to distribute supplies they were killed.” Piper reminded the two siblings.

“Which is why there’s three of us.” James pressed his lips into a thin line.

— — —

Havoc Sector was a shit hole. The only reason none of the states wanted its service was because of its poverty. They had nothing to offer anyone. In fact, Havoc Sector was lucky they even had support from New 0.

“It’s infected,” The Doctor pursed his lips, “I’m not sure there’s anything we can do.”

“There has to be something,” Bianca insisted, looking at her discolored arm. The large cut from a work related accident had become severely infected.

“I’m sorry, no medicine can treat this-let alone if we had any.” Part of Bianca wanted to kill the man. He claimed to be medically certified, and maybe he was once upon a time, but the equipment now just wasn’t the same. His abilities were limited.

“I’ll go somewhere else then,” Bianca decided.

“And where will that be?” The doctor frowned.

“The Skids,” Bianca’s assertive tone surprised the doctor, but he was more surprised by the selected location.

“If you go to the Skids you’ll die for certain.” He made no move to stop Bianca from stumbling to her feet.

“So be it.”

— — —

A fist rocked into her face pushing her back against the dusty wall. All around people crowded and yelled at the scene before them. Just beige her opponent could take the advantage, Sage slammed her foot down against their knee.

With a sickening pop the other girl dropped with a cry of pain. Using the back of her arm, Sage wiped the blood from her face, and grasped the unfortunate competitor by the front of her tank top, “Yield.”

“Not a chance.”

“You know what happens if you don’t.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

The crowd roared angrily and slammed their hands down upon rickety wood tables.

Kill

KILL

KILL!

“You heard them,” The girl smiled thinly. Sage nodded and quick as a wink she snapped the other girl’s neck letting her drop to the ground. With the thud of the body the room dissolved into complete chaos.

Sage scampered from the ring and snatched up her winnings before heading off.

She’d changed quickly, and was now pedaling swiftly towards home. Her mother was sick and dying, if she’d gathered enough money there was a chance she could afford a hospital room. The Skids was a cutthroat place. A place for criminals, but because of that-they had the best health care possible.

80s

“Throw the ball!” Piper yelled, tapping the bat on the base outlined in the dirt. James brought his leg up slow, making the movements grander than they needed to be, before throwing the mall. It whistled through the air in a perfect spin as Piper swung the wooden bat.

A loud crack resounded signaling a solid hit. James glanced at the sky trying to follow the ball as Piper took off to where Scout stood prepped at first base. Orion charged in from the outfield sprawling out flat in an attempt to catch the ball. Recovering he slung it towards second base forcing Piper into a dive.

Nathaniel snagged the ball from the air, stopped over to tap Piper, and cursed when she beat him. “Safe.”

“Yes!” Thalia clapped. Piper stood to dust herself off, all the while taking a bow.

With a sigh James took his place on the mound once more. Adjusting the cap on his head he wiped at the glistening sweat with the back of his arm.

“Hold up,” Scout called, checking his watch, “shit. We gotta go! School is soon.”

Nothing else was said as they all picked up the baseball equipment. An onlooker would have laughed watching a bunch of teens scramble across the dusty field, up and over the hill, down the other side, and disappear in the neighborhood.

— — —

“You have to work on your pitching,” Nathaniel joked accompanying his younger friends to school. College had yet to start for him so he enjoyed the morning cycle to school without the anxiety of having to do any learning.

“You pitch next time,” James huffed, taking the corner sharp into the parking lot. Kids were scrambling out of cars and racing up the steps to meet friends.

“That hit though,” Alex winked at Piper who puffed her chest out in pride. They rode past a car blasting U2 and shortly after another playing ABBA.

“The music tastes of some of these people,” Orion shook his head in dismay.

The conversation was interrupted as an engine came screaming by, a motorcycle sped past sliding into a parking space with ease.

“Hey! Watch it!” James yelled, “You yield to us.”

“Says who? It’s a parking lot. Everyone yields to everyone dip shit,” James’ brows arched in surprise as the biker jerked off their helmet to reveal an intimidating girl with short choppy black hair.

“Attitude,” Alex hummed earning a snicker from Piper. Shaking his head James lead the group to the bike rack.

“Some people have serious nerve,” Scout frowned.

“You get used to it,” Orion assured him hopping up onto the nearby wall, “see you all later.”

— — —

“Glad to see you decided to turn up,” Bianca turned to see her friend climbing the steps to the front of the school.

“I’m still a bit nervous,” Bianca admitted. She’d managed to snag a prosthetic but it wasn’t exactly the most function-able or attractive device.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sage promised holding the door open for her, “I’ll kill anyone who says anything about it.”

“Murder on the first day seems a bit excessive,” Bianca laughed.

“So does getting math homework,” Sage countered.

— — —

“This place is ghastly,” Penny frowned.

“Why? Because you learn stuff?” Chloe asked, arching a brow.

“It’s a prison.” Penny insisted.

“Thanks for that, I can finally cross going to jail off of my bucket list.” Penny rolled her eyes at Chloe before turning her attention to Arthur.

“How’re you holding up?”

“Honestly I am terrified,” Arthur mumbled. The news was all over the place with people who’d been beat up or killed for being gay, lesbian, and trans.

“Just remember to be careful,” Chloe warned.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be?” Arthur glowered.

“I’m just saying-“

“Yeah, you don’t want to move schools again I know.”

“Arthur, I’m not mad at you.” Chloe looked a bit offended, “but not everyone is like us. Some people are cruel.”

“The newspapers made me well aware of that,” Arthur swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest at too fast of a pace. He was pretty sure he was already sweating.

Demigod

Capture the flag was the olympics of camp half blood. The winner didn’t earn a week of chores, gained honor, and best of all-bragging rights. There was nothing worse than watching people fume over defeat.

Even the campfires were fun if the participation was high enough. Maybe the music wasn’t the best but it got the job done. If anything, it allowed people to be completely unhinged.

Dinner was wonderful too, there were people to laugh with, tell stories with, and simple talk too. It was a vibrant atmosphere meant to be welcoming, but it was also a lonely type of place. There were those who felt confined, restricted, and unwanted.

Chloe hated her cabin. The perfume gave her a headache, the gossip was annoying, and they didn’t value a whole lot. Of course, not every child of Aphrodite was like that, but stigmas existed for a reason. The only one who’d gotten anything good out of the deal was Arthur. A perfect body, the one he always wanted, and with none of the pain.

Even Piper was dissatisfied. There was only so much a person could do with the limited equipment. She had big plans, big desires, and being confined to share a forge was infuriating. Her only solace was Siyanda who seemed to understand the struggle.

As for Scout, there was more to being smart than knowing facts. He was stuck in a cabin full of one uppers. Nothing anyone did was good enough, and someone always came up with something better. He was sick of it. Not to mention everyone’s ideas seemed to follow the same pattern. Originality didn’t seem to be valued as much as tradition did.

Penny and Orion were stuck in the most crowded cabin where something was always missing because someone always took something. You could barely even trust your own siblings with objects for fear they’d take it or sell it for something better. Personal possessions weren’t much of a privilege for them.

James and Alex had a relatively empty cabin. Everyone was pretty alright until it came to intense competitions, then all hell broke loose. People would argue over athletes about who was better or not, and it could go on for days. No one ever admitted defeat, that they were wrong, or that they weren’t as good as their ego said they were.

Violence was quite the go to response for people in the Ares cabin, but it didn’t come naturally to some. Thalia refrained from unseeded conflict at all costs, and instead advocated for peace more often than not. Bianca just wanted to be left alone. She barely spoke to anyone, and they all assumed it had to do with the age old incident.

Being a child of Nemesis meant no one wanted to befriend you. Not to mention the history of Nemesis children at camp. Fox found herself trying to be as detached as possible, but it was hard when people tried to piss you off to see what would happen.

As for Nathaniel, the poor boy didn’t catch a break. He taught archery every chance he got or helped out in the medical wing, but there was one cot that no one touched. It was practically forbidden, but that almost made it worse.

Enzo fit right in with the other peppy magic kids. He went about practicing his powers all day, loved to participate in group activities, and cabin bonding moments. Sage, however, kept to herself on the top bunk in the dark back corner of the rather unpopulated cabin. She found their happiness sickening, and spent most of her time curled up staring at the wall. No one bothered to drag her into activities anymore.

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marcellusbitsandpieces · 5 years

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Bits and Pieces Cahokia Mounds 7/14/19

The area known as Cahokia is about 1400 years old. The Late Woodland Indians of the Mississippian culture hunted, fished and kept gardens in their structured community. This culture survived because they were hunters, gathers and gardeners which enabled them to support a larger and more permanent people.

Between AD 1050 and 1200 Cahokia grew to become “the largest prehistoric Indian site north of Mexico.” By 1250, Cahokia was even larger than London, at that time. Of what was once about 4000 acres, 2200 acres and 70 of the 80 remaining mounds are now protected.

The mounds were created from what was called “borrow pits” of earth using stone and wood tools. The earth was moved in baskets on people’s backs. Some mounds show various stages of construction and many of the borrow pits are still distinguishable.

Sections of The Stockade can still be seen along the trails.

A log wall nearly two miles long extending around the central ceremonial district of the village wasn’t only for defense. The Stockade was also a social barrier, separating the more sacred area and the elite who lived within from the general community. What the threat was is still unknown. However as it decayed The Stockade was rebuilt four times in order to keep the central district safe.

The largest prehistoric earthen (mound) construction in the Americas is in The Cahokia Mounds. It is known as Monks Mound and was named for the French Trappist monks who lived on a nearby smaller mound and farmed the terraces of this large mound.

The Monks Mound base covers over 14 acres, rises 100 feet and contains an estimated 22 million cubic feet of earth.

As you can see the top is flat. Therefore was used for ceremonial buildings or homes of the elite. In fact, an enormous building stood at the top of Monks Mound and functioned as the home of the chief as well as his place to govern and perform ceremonies.

The Late Woodland Indians of this region died out by AD 1300. As with the Mayans, where they went or what exactly happened is unknown. It is speculated that disease, depletion of resources, environmental changes, etc. were factors.

The area inhabited by these people took its name from a later tribe of the Illiniwek nation, Cahokia tribe. However the Cahokia people did not build the mounds and did not live here until the 1600s.

Sue and I enjoyed the grounds between rain showers, and found our journey very worthwhile. Finding a place to eat was a challenge in southern Illinois, so Sue got out her GPS. Before we knew it, (only 4 miles away) we were crossing the Mississippi River with The Arch on our left.

We hadn’t planned on it, but lunch in downtown Saint Louis was fun – after we found parking!

I had thought of going to Kaskaskia. It is further south and was the first capital of Illinois. However, the original town was wiped out when the Mississippi River changed course and put it under water. The townspeople did move to shore to rebuild.

As you can imagine, with the current heavy and continuous rains, Kaskaskia is in danger again. Of course with only about 13-18 population (depending on your source), the town’s survival doesn’t look promising.

So we headed north east to Vandalia, the second capital of Illinois before the final decision to move the capital to Springfield.

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sanerontheinside · 8 years

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Title prompt: Volunteer wildflowers

@obaewankenope, @lilyrose225writes, @meabhair, @maawi, @kyberpunk, @eclipsemidnightLook, nonnie, your options were either this or clone fic, and I wasn’t quite up to let’s-kill-them-all-angst. (Just watch, now I’ve said it, I might even do it, why am I like this.)

In the lower levels of the Coruscant Temple there was a garden; peaceful under the quiet, almost heavy layers of the Force, beautiful and complicated, full of riddles and winding paths and puzzles that never looked quite the same any time you saw them.

It was a labour of love, both a memory immortalised and an offering to the rest of the Temple, so its creator never considered his name to be particularly important – not attached to the garden, anyway. It didn’t seem important then. Or perhaps it would have revealed far more about the creator than he was comfortable with.

It certainly wasn’t important now, when that garden lay in ruins.

The ship circled once, twice, around the crater in the wasteland. A smaller shuttle rattled, securely parked in the hold, creaks and groans adding to the eerie feeling that was trying to crawl up the pilot’s spine. “Well, this is it,” he grumbled. “Look, are you sure you want to be here?”

His passenger didn’t look sure. He looked like he was pressing himself back, neck arched uncomfortably into the headrest, hands clawing into the soft seat and the arm. They were flying smoothly enough, yet he still looked like he was fighting a losing battle against motion sickness.

“Just - set me down and I’ll figure it out,” he suggested tightly.

“I won’t wait for you,” the pilot warned, a nervous edge bleeding into his tone entirely against his will.

The man – old, thin, but with a clever light in his eyes – shot him a sharp look. “There’s no need,” he murmured. “What is it?”

The pilot looked straight ahead again, swallowed down his nerves once, twice. “I can hear them,” he said, half-hoping his companion would miss his whispered words. He didn’t think he’d spoken all that loudly, but he couldn’t really tell with the screaming in his ears.

“Me too,” the passenger said softly. At the pilot’s startled look, he gave him a half-shrug and a wry smile.

The pilot blinked, nodded. It was a relief to hear he wasn’t crazy, or at least that he wasn’t the only one. “And you still want to stay here?”

The man sighed. “I have work to do here,” he said, but did not elaborate.

The pilot restrained himself to raised eyebrows and a shake of the head. “All right then. Tell me where to set you down.”

“North lip of the crater there, by the water.”

“It’s cold out there, old man. Don’t freeze.”

Jedha was a desert moon, or at least it was supposed to be. But here, shining pools in a crater betrayed a presence of water, the potential for life in the midst of a wasteland. The pools were fringed with ice, and the wind was almost cutting, tearing across the flat landscape with nothing to slow it down. But the wind would pass, eventually. The man ignored it for now as he stood and looked around, then tipped his head back and looked up at the stars.

The crater was what remained of the Holy City of NiJedha, the Temple of the Whills, the crystal mines. The Death Star’s successful weapons test had raised massive clouds of dust and soot and sand, setting off a several-degree generous drop in temperature of the moon’s atmosphere.

It had also buried the crystal mine, and uncovered an aquifer.

When Senator Mon Mothma had first asked him if there was anything that could be done for Jedha’s moon, he’d simply stared at her, dumbfounded. At the time, he hadn’t been sure what her question meant – did she want him to rebuild NiJedha, or was she simply asking for future reference, to rebuild any cities destroyed as a ‘warning’. His mind spun out of control – Jedha was a desert moon, it wasn’t a model for any planet where there was any kind of suspected or rumoured Rebel presence, not really.

He came back to the sense of a hand resting gently on his forearm. “The average temperature of the moon has dropped several degrees, what life there was on it is struggling to survive. Most of the Jedhan population is leaving. I want to know if it’s at all possible to help them restore the moon to livable conditions.”

He’d blinked at her owlishly, then snorted. “It’s a bloody desert, Senator. And it screams. No one who returns to the Holy City will ever be able to ignore those screams.”

But in the end he’d agreed. He still wasn’t sure why. No being in their sixteenth decade should be so foolish.

The hum of the kyber far beneath his feet somewhere was a little reassuring. Even in spite of the Empire’s abuse, the strip-mining, the weapons test, something had survived here, and persisted. (Scientists could yell at him as much as they liked, but no one had yet managed to convince him that kyber or Ilum crystals weren’t at least a little bit alive.)

He pulled in a deep breath of achingly cold air, huffed it out sharply, and walked back to his small shuttle. Pulling off thick gloves and sealing the compartment, he steeled himself and gave the engines a gentle nudge, guiding his affectionately-named Bucket (for rust-bucket) over the lip of the crater and down into the depths.

There was less wind here. He almost wanted to call it a valley: there was so much potential around these half-frozen pools of water, his entire being ached with it – ached to see it.

The entire galaxy seemed a little lighter these days, with the death of the Emperor. Of course, that didn’t mean the death of the Empire, unfortunately. But the Empire had no further use for Jedha, and he was content to stay here, quietly tinkering away in his shuttle. Soil samples, air quality, ultraviolet radiation – samples, readings upon readings, data-data-data. They were a welcome distraction from the near-constant screaming, even if they weren’t enough of one.

Sometimes, as he moved from place to place, one voice might become more distinct from the chorus. It sent cold prickling down his spine, colder than the wind even as it cut through his layers. He couldn’t bear it. It was too much like what he’d already heard once, on Kashyyyk. Sixty-Six might have been decades ago, but time didn’t dull the pain of it all that well.

Almost reflexively, he apologised. He didn’t even realise he was doing it, but he found himself muttering as he went, over and over, you will be remembered.

Not like there was anyone else left to say it, anyway.

A few days’ traveling through the crater and around it revealed that, indeed, there were few species that had borne the cold well. He saved what he could of the frostbitten plants, found that they did well in the Bucket’s small storage room. Unfortunately, he realised, he might still have to supplement the population with something else, some sort of introduced species. He wasn’t fond of that – one never knew if an introduced species would remain so, or become dangerously invasive. But that was a question for another time.

What will you do now, Master? A memory floated up to the surface, of his last Padawan; golden-eyed and golden-haired, clever, if almost always silent. He’d died a young Knight, before the Republic fell, and his Master often thanked the Force the boy had never seen the Order’s destruction, or the decades of suffering that followed.

Beat the clouds, he’d answered then, with a smirk.

Seed the clouds, really. Try to bring all that unsettled dust back to the ground. Make rain.

It was much easier these days. He could make an orbit of the moon through its atmosphere and cover all the ground he needed. It gave him a strange sensation of power, working with environments like this. He’d never had to care for an entire moon, and he’d rarely had to work alone, but that was a long time ago.

A long time ago, he’d been pulled every which way, tending to the scorched grounds of Felucia, whispering fondly to the Mon Cal corals, overseeing efforts on AgriCorp worlds. The Council hadn’t cared how he got things done, merely that they were done. It was easy for anyone to dismiss him as a paltry example of a Jedi Master, a researcher with no practical experience, but he knew how to work this landscape in his very bones. The Force sang it to him.

He passed along messages, requests for what he needed, through pilots as skittish as the one who’d brought him here. Yet, invariably the answer always came with what he needed.

Many, many years ago he’d constructed a garden in the Temple’s lower levels. This was far different, less structured, not rigidly maintained. This was meant to be wild. While he nursed the atmosphere back to somewhat more normal, he carefully re-introduced some of his plants. He wrapped them carefully, insulating them against too-cold temperatures, guarded them against the persistent damp – rather unlike Jedha’s normal climate.

In the end, he would have been willing to admit defeat. None of the species native to Jedha were suited to such conditions. But as he sorted through the small greenhouse-cabin of his shuttle, pruning some of the survivors, repotting others, a small, purple-flowering clump snagged his attention.

It caught him entirely by surprise. “Hello there, you little thing,” he whispered, “how did you get aboard with me? I must be getting old,” he joked, for the joke only grew funnier with every year he passed one-hundred fifty. “Where are you from?”

He really had no idea, he realised with a twinge of regret. Once, his record-keeping had been flawless – before the war, of course. Then, Master Haldane Juo had had a name, and a Padawan, and sometimes a Knight partner, and occasionally someone wanted him – called for him by name – to speak to some tech or overseer in the AgriCorps.

He stared at the nameless plant in his hands, thinking of how that violet colour matched the eyes of his Padawan’s agemate, whom Zeka had irretrievably fallen for. Those smooth leaves marked it a succulent, and the corner he’d kept it in marked it hardy, one that could survive and flourish in a wide range of temperatures, but most of the cold. Colder, even, than Jedha had been. From what he could tell, it didn’t grow or spread very fast. Its preferred soil type was just close enough, at that.

“Ah well,” he sighed. “I suppose it can’t hurt to try with you. Come on,” he picked up the pot, snipped away a few cuttings, and separated them, encouraging them over the next several days to root and grow.

“Did you know,” he mused at it, “this place, it used to be the Holy City, NiJedha. Somewhere around here, there were caves full of kyber crystals that the Empire strip-mined. I suppose there must have been an aquifer below – no other reason for the puddles in the crater here.”

He sighed, sitting back to look at his cuttings. They weren’t doing too badly.

“Where is your home, your real home, little one?” He reached out, brushing light fingers over small dark leaves. They told him nothing, and the Force gave no hints. “You would have liked her, the one with eyes the colour of your flowers. I did. She brought my Padawan to me, the sneaky creature,” he grinned, “fell out of one of the Archive shelves.”

Later she, too, had traveled to starved and war-torn planets – long before the Galactic War, even – and set up field hospitals, earned herself a following of loyal, orphaned children. Force, but she’d even laid claim to a decent corner of black market trade, procuring supplies and medications for Mid-Rim worlds the Senate had neither the time nor the resources to care for. Crazy, for a Jedi. Crafty, for the Shadow she became.

Haldane wondered what she might be up to now. If she’d even survived.

“She didn’t think herself a Jedi then, you know,” he told his plants, skipping over so much of the story, polished away to smoothness in a well-trod part of his mind. “They weren’t very happy about her Knighting.”

He leaned back in his seat, as far as his cramped workplace would allow, looking troubled. He only let himself look so old and so worn where no one could see – which, on Jedha, seemed to mean only in the safety and privacy of his shuttle. His hair was long, grease-streaked silver and grey where he’d absently swiped his hands after fiddling with one of the Bucket’s motors. His skin, once bronzed, had darkened, wrinkled and gone mottled with spots. But his eyes were yet sharp and brown, near-black.

“See, here’s the trouble I have,” he said at last, still talking to the cuttings quietly arranged in front of him. “Here we have a child taken from a slave world, brought to the Temple, raised to believe she wanted nothing more than to become a Jedi. Then, she is lost. When she comes home, the Council turns her out again. For at least another decade she wanders the world believing she’ll never get her Knighthood, and what does she do? She does what any Jedi would do: she heals the worlds she finds are broken.”

He crossed his arms over his chest with a disgruntled sigh, threw his legs up on a nearby stool, and went on. “Now look at us. In another decade and a half our home was destroyed. We were hunted, slaughtered. They destroyed even those who were like us,” he waved a hand vaguely upward, at the Bucket’s hull. “There is so little left of us.”

Haldane let his head drop forward until his chin rested on his chest. For a long time – so long that he might have fallen asleep – he just breathed.

“What are we left with? We had faith in the Force, in the Order, in each other, and none of it saved us. Yet a child more a Jedi than half the ones I’ve ever met did more for people the Order would never have helped without any faith in us at all. Sometimes, I think, she barely had faith in the Force. When you strip away the Order, the company of your own family, when even the Force doesn’t respond to your call quite like it used to, it’s hard to have faith in any of it.”

So then, what had she believed in?

In a few tens, once he was sure his cuttings would survive in the harsh conditions outside, he went out and planted a few. Then he sat down, crosslegged, beside them.

“I suppose I should name you,” he murmured, watching a faint breath of wind stir the leaves gently. “Wouldn’t do to expect you to flourish without a name.”

But in truth he’d spent so long pondering it – ever since he’d discovered that little plant hiding in the corner of his ‘greenroom’. Or, at least, while he hadn’t been distracted pondering his own place in the universe, or the lack thereof.

“I suppose,” he began softly, then broke off and looked up at the night sky. For the first time since he’d arrived, he could actually see stars, not just a blanket of clouds, overhead. “Out there, there are any number of worlds whose people are either entirely naïve of the Force or treat it solely as a religion. They believe in gods and beasts, some of them – in their ancestors, even.”

Haldane hung his head and chuckled. “Well. I suppose it’s better to start small, then, hm? For instance,” he leaned forward, closer to the little tufts he’d planted, “I believe in the potential this frosty damned wasteland has, and I’d really appreciate it if you little buggers didn’t fail me, understood?”

He felt more than a bit silly, really. One-hundred fifty-seven years young, muttering at his succulents. So he snickered; and then snorted, and then couldn’t help the full-throated laugh that threw his head back again.

“Sorry, sorry,” he sputtered through tears, “that was a long time coming. Oh, ye gods! Ha! What gods.” His face twisted in a sudden grimace and he shoved the thought away. “Never mind. Well. A name, right? That’s what I was meant to be doing.”

It’s too quiet, he thought. I’ll go mad here.

“She said they called her Shar’ii, meaning Bright Star. Said it had something to do with hope. Good as any name for you, since right about now looks like you’re this planet’s best hope. And don’t give me that look!” He menaced the plants, still laughing at himself. “You’ll have to live with it.”

With a breathy sigh he finally picked himself up, groaning a bit – the cold ground was no good place for old bones to rest, and his complaints filled the silence well enough. He shuffled stiffly back to the Bucket, humming an old crèche tune as he went. Huffing slightly, he laid a hand on the hull when he finally reached his shuttle and stopped to breathe in the air again. The quality of it had certainly gone up since he’d arrived.

So quiet, he mused, even peaceful, then frowned in confusion.

What happened to all the screaming?

There wasn’t even a hint of it. Funny, that. Haldane shrugged, and quickly trudged back into his ship.

A few months later, the giant caldera had become an oasis, pools fringed with green and tufts of purple-flowering Shar’ii.

#Anonymous #Rogue One #Rogue fic #Master Haldane Juo #Jedha #nuclear winter #land reclamation #wild ficcage and au spawn #title meme #ask me things

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leonarsleman94 · 4 years

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How To Increase Height In 1 Week Easy And Cheap Ideas

Some are lucky enough to rebuild their energy and advantage of it in the research mode to find the concept is still difficult to understand.Hold the leg lengthening surgical procedure may bring.The fact is that over time may cause other complications aside from having 300 bones at birth to only 206 as adults.However, are there better alternatives to become taller overnight.

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How To Grow Taller After 25 Years Old

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#How To Increase Height In 1 Week Easy And Cheap Ideas #What Is The Natural Way To Increase Height

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certainbreadgladiator · 4 years

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5 habits that will spoil any figure.

Spoil the figure can not only like sweet or fast food, but also habits associated with daily activity. The way our body looks is also influenced by how we sit or move. What posture is able to visually "throw" us five extra pounds? How to get rid of habits that are full?

A slim body is impossible without a balanced diet and physical exertion. But some daily habits can negate all our efforts in the gym and significantly increase the volume of the waist. Conditionally they can be divided into two groups: related to Nutrition and movement.

The common problem, experts say, is that we often do not have the strength to keep our backs flat. "This is a consequence of chronic fatigue. A tired person walks and sits as if" sagging " down, he does not have the energy to straighten his back and raise his head.»

So, spoil the figure can:

1. The habit of slouching

Wrong posture makes the figure baggy, visually we "throw" about 5 kg and increase the volume of the abdomen. "When we slouch, the internal organs move somewhat, which worsens their work, perhaps the formation of gases and bloating. In addition, they exert pressure from the inside on the abdominal wall, so that the lower abdomen seems to be "pushed" forward " with this position of the body, the muscles of the press weaken and the abdomen SAG somewhat.

Those who slouch at the working table also risk getting an increased percentage of visceral fat (after all, the organs have to work with a load) and an increase in the volume of the "panty zone". "In the presence of a pronounced deviation in the lower back, the outflow of fluid in the lower part of the body worsens. It accumulates mainly in fat cells, resulting in cellulite and excess cm on the hips and buttocks" how to fix: work in several directions. First, strengthen the muscles of the back and the press with special exercises. Secondly, change habits: follow the posture (for example, placing a bright sticker on the desk with a reminder), get up more often behind the computer and make the workplace more comfortable (for example, placing a small pillow under the lower back to relieve the additional load from the muscles and spine).

2. The habit of incorrectly placing the foot

Here, experts identify a complex of incorrect movements that will eventually negatively affect the figure. "This is, for example, the habit of"dragging your feet". This leads to the fact that the natural springs in the foot weaken, and the entire musculoskeletal system "sags". From this, sooner or later there are problems in the internal organs: digestion weakens, due to poor posture, the pelvic and thoracic organs are compressed»

Spoil the figure and health can, according to the expert, the habit of standing, leaning on the inner edge of the foot. "As a result, the arch of the foot falls, which causes flat feet. It is also harmful to stand, pushing your knees back or pushing your hip outward. How to fix: monitor posture and gait, strengthen the muscles of the legs and ankle with special exercises, preferably under the supervision of a specialist.

3. The habit of sitting " foot on foot»

"In this position, the blood supply and lymph flow deteriorate. In addition to varicose veins, it is fraught with fluid retention in the lower part of the body, and eventually-cellulite and increased volume of the hips and buttocks»

How to fix ""rebuild" your workplace so that while you are sitting, both your feet are on the floor and your knees bent at an angle of 90 degrees. It will also be useful to perform exercises three times a week to strengthen the muscles of the hips and buttocks and improve blood circulation with a light massage.

Eating habits

Let's not talk about obvious cases and talk about how desserts and fatty dishes affect the figure. Consider situations where eating habits associated with meals of a healthy diet can increase the volume of the waist.

1. The habit of incorrectly combining food

Legumes and lean beef-it seems more difficult to find healthier ingredients for a dish. But to combine them in a plate, according to nutritionists, is not worth it. "The combination of vegetable and animal protein in one meal is shown to those who actively exercise, but not to those who reduce weight. Because the mixture of these components can lead to intoxication of internal media, and as a consequence — to a decrease in metabolism and weight gain.

Meat in combination with starchy vegetables is one of the vivid examples of an unsuccessful combination of products.

Other similar combinations also include a mixture of starchy vegetables and animal protein: the process of digesting these components takes a different amount of time and requires a different amount of gastric juice.

How to fix: combine in one meal meat with vegetables without starch (for example, green salad with cutlet, green beans with cutlet), and not with cereals or starchy root vegetables (potatoes, pumpkin, beetroot).

2. The habit of eating in a hurry

Eating on the run, accompanied by a TV or computer is quite capable of noticeably spoiling any figure, even if the diet contains only healthy and "correct"food. First of all, it is almost impossible to track the feeling of satiety, which means that it is easy to overeat. Secondly, the desire to eat faster hurts us chewing food, which can cause bloating. In this sense, fresh fruits and vegetables are especially "dangerous" — fiber, which they are rich in, "swells" in the digestive system and visually increases the volume of the abdomen. "Any food we plan to eat must have an impact on the visual analyzer and on the oral receptors that transmit information to the central nervous system and, from there, to the ferment-producing organs, so it is important to eat slowly and with pleasure»

How to fix: learn to eat slowly and thoroughly chew food. And do not overeat before training.

Instead of concluding

Habit is not second nature, as is commonly believed, and can be adjusted. This process requires patience, mindfulness and time (it takes us an average of 40 days to learn how to do something "by the machine"). It is also important to understand the mechanism of habit formation — it is essentially a matter of tracing a new "neural path". Therefore, it makes sense not to give up the bad habit, but to replace it with useful: let's say that when you are "on the machine", cross your legs while sitting at work, get up and take a few steps around the room.

#sport #health #fitness #workout

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allenmendezsr · 5 years

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