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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

Taglist: @darthdameron

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

#first order poe dameron #FO! poe dameron #FO! poe dameron x reader #fo! poe x reader #knife play

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stillness-in-green · 4 years

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The Way You Survive Is... (1/4)

Growing up in a cult has more than its fair share of dangers, and that sort of damage has a tendency to travel, especially when no one involved knows how to brake.

Or, Rikiya and the road to the Claustro.

Author’s Note: It took me a long time to realize how massively disturbing Re-Destro’s silly one-off robot suit is on every possible level—as a reminder, it’s called a “burden-enhancing steel pressure mechanism” and namechecks claustrophobia—but when I did, I immediately started brainstorming this story. This first chapter particularly builds on some pre-existing headcanon about Rikiya’s upbringing and the people involved in it, but it’s readable as a stand-alone, and later chapters will feature Rikiya’s canonical inner circle — as well as Shigaraki and Spinner, eventually—much more prominently.

Mind the tags, folks; this one is A Lot.

——— ——— ——— ———

Chapter One: The Way the Mind Will Lean

“You’ll do well,” Anchor, Rikiya’s guardian, told him the morning it began, clearing away breakfast. “You’ve been making great progress so far, and Quarter is one of our best.”

Rikiya was newly thirteen and had lived with Anchor for the last few years. A bull heteromorph with an immobilization power, he’d been in the inner circle of Rikiya’s grandfather and had been involved in training Rikiya’s mother as well, and so when Rikiya’s mother had passed, to Anchor’s care Rikiya had gone.

“What’s his meta-ability?” Rikiya asked, to which the old man only shook his head, his horns making the movement heavy and deliberate.

“There’s a process to teaching, and I wouldn’t want to interfere with his. You’ll find out in good time.” Anchor gave Rikiya one of his small, proud smiles. “No need to keep me company for the dishes. Rampart’s waiting.”

Rikiya nodded and took his leave. Rampart, Rikiya’s driver and bodyguard for as long as he could remember, saluted when he came down the steps, but other than the usual pleasantries, it was a quiet drive, out of Anchor’s spacious, secluded neighborhood and towards the center of town.

“Nervous?” Rampart asked eventually, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“A little.” Rikiya smiled, folding his hands together in his lap. “But that’s a good thing, in my case.”

“That’s the spirit,” Rampart replied, returning his attention to the road. Keeping the smile on in case he looked back, Rikiya studied the man’s reflection. His brows had knitted faintly downward and he drummed his fingers on the wheel—one of his nervous habits. He’d been more closed-off around Rikiya for the last few years, ever since his mother’s death had made the passage of the mantle irrevocable; Rikiya wondered sometimes what the elders must have told him back then. Or if it wasn’t the elders or the mantle at all—after all, he and Rikiya’s mother had been very close.

“Any advice for me?” Rikiya tried, tone light, after the second time Rampart’s lips twitched and curled around the beginnings of—something, only to resettle without speaking.

“Hah.” Rampart’s head ducked around a crooked smile. “Well, I can’t say too much. I’ve never been through Quarter’s whole course, just fought him a few times in the bouts over the years. I’ve watched him take down warriors twice his size and half his age. And he’s been a teacher for a long time now.”

“A good one?” He’s worried about something. It showed in his narrowed eyes, not to mention the lack of a straight answer.

“As if we’d send you to anyone but our best. Just…”

“Just?” Rikiya considered leaning forward and wrapping his hands around the back of the headrest like he might have when he was younger. He had been younger then, though, and not the Grand Commander. He stayed put, back straight against the seat.

“His meta-ability’s…” Rampart eased to a stop at a red light. Freed for a few seconds of the need to watch the road, his eyes closed. When they opened again, Rikiya knew the moment was gone. Rampart shot him a leashed smile through the mirror. “He’s a strong one. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rikiya replied, returning the smile as he pressed his fingers, one by one, tighter against the backs of his hands.

————

Like most of the local trainers, Quarter worked out of the fitness center. The floor was bustling when Rikiya and Rampart walked in, a general hubbub that morphed into an organized one as people caught sight of him and hastily stepped off of treadmills or stopped cold in the middle of floor routines to salute.

It does the Army good to see your strength, Sanctum had told him the morning of the funeral. I know it can be hard, but it will make you stronger, too, in the end.

And so Rikiya smiled, murmured a few words to Rampart at the check-in desk, and stepped away to make the rounds.

Elsewhere in the facility, more organized training was underway—a room full of emitters sparring, a yoga class where everyone was stretching out some different metamorphic limb—but the employees must have been forewarned; none of the classes were halted as Rikiya followed Rampart deeper into the building. The ceiling was higher in the back, rows of high windows streaming light into a room with a climbing wall, a weight room, an enormous indoor swimming pool Rikiya eyed enviously as they passed. They stopped at none of them, but rather passed on out a rear exit that opened to a breezeway. The covered walk lead to an exterior building with its own small parking lot and a glass door beyond which Rikiya could see nothing but a small waiting room. A keycard reader sat mounted on the wall next to an intercom.

“Ready?” Rampart asked as they walked up to the door, and when Rikiya nodded, he reached up and rang the buzzer.

“Refinement Training,” came the answer after a long few seconds, a crisp male voice.

“This is Rampart, here with the Grand Commander.” He kept holding the button down and looked down at Rikiya, tilting his head slightly inward.

“Good morning,” Rikiya said, taking the hint, and Rampart released the button.

“Of course, of course,” said the man on the other end of the speaker, audibly warming. “Please come in.” A small red light on the scanner flipped to green.

The area inside was exactly as small as it had looked from outside, a narrow door on the left and a reception desk, currently unoccupied, built into the back wall. A broader door on the right opened just as Rikiya’s gaze fell on it.

Quarter’s eyes were the first thing Rikiya noticed—probably the first thing most people noticed. His irises were a striking shade of dark gold, standing out like gleaming coins against deep blue sclera, both slightly larger than life behind a pair of oval glasses. His gaze skimmed over Rampart then dropped down to Rikiya as a pleased smile spread over his face.

“Grand Commander.” He saluted along with the greeting. “I’m honored. Please, come in.”

Rikiya nodded but took a moment to look him over first—other than the eyes, Quarter seemed unassuming enough. He was an older man—older than Rampart, at least, though if he wasn’t younger than Anchor, he wore it more smoothly, hair still black all the way through, his features both mild and mildly lined. He wasn’t dressed for an intensive work-out—a gray knitted sweater and black slacks—but beneath the clothes, his build looked trim and fit. Not an excess of anything noticeable, really, except his eyes.

Of course, looks didn’t mean much in the long run.

Rikiya stepped over and through the door. The hallway beyond was narrow, marked by a line of lockers and a few small doors, as well as a water fountain beside another broad door on the far end.

“I normally run first-time sessions for an hour or so,” Quarter said as Rampart followed them in. “I can get a feel for where you are in your development, what you’ve been focusing on, what you need to improve. Then when I see you again Tuesday, I’ll have a regimen more tailored for you specifically. Does that sound all right?” At Rikiya’s nod, he looked up at Rampart. “This will be three times a week, correct?”

“Saturday mornings, and Tuesday and Thursday evenings,” Rampart confirmed.

“Excellent. You can use the personal parking next time, then; no need to hike all the way from the front entrance.” Quarter turned his attention back to Rikiya and gave him another once-over, this time focusing on his clothes. “You can use one of the lockers here to keep a change of clothes or shoes in—there is a dressing room. I have some spare combination locks or you can bring one from home, if you’d prefer.”

“One of yours would be fine,” said Rikiya, who did not actually own a personal lock of any kind and was moderately surprised at the assumption that he did.

“All right, then.” Quarter nodded. “Let’s get started. It’s right through here.”

Inside the door by the water fountain was, at last, the room where Rikiya would be spending the next few months in enhanced training. It looked something like a dance studio without all the mirrors, windowless, the ceiling low and lined with recessed lights. Thick blue exercise mats lined most of the floor, here and there showing signs of wear and tear, singe-marks and scores dotted over the vinyl fabric. It was, otherwise, entirely empty.

“Do you know why you’re here?” came Quarter’s voice from behind him. Rikiya turned to see Quarter looking down at him placidly. Away behind him, Rampart had taken up his watch at the door.

Rikiya nodded. Quarter went on looking at him, expectant, so he added, “To take the next step in training my meta-ability.”

“No.”

Rikiya blinked, brow furrowing at the answer. No? What does he mean, no? That’s what everyone’s been calling this since Anchor first brought it up.

“That’s what I was told,” he responded at length.

"That’s only a facet of it. You are here to learn how better to be a warrior for Liberation.” The trainer saluted again at the invocation; Rikiya echoed the gesture reflexively. “Destro’s noble cause demands much of all of us. We undertake this so that one day, all meta-humans can walk free.”

“For Liberation.” The words fell easily from Rikiya’s lips. The swerve from pleasantry to ideology would have to be much more out-of-nowhere than this for him to trip up on the basic tenets. Quarter nodded.

“You,” he said, dropping smoothly down to one knee and looking up into Rikiya’s eyes, “are the Grand Commander of the Meta Liberation Army. Your words are Destro’s words. I am but a devotee to the cause. Whatever you tell me, I must obey. So tell me: is it Destro’s wish that you hone yourself into a better, stronger version of the you you are now?” His smile had drained away, leaving his face with a sterner cast.

The memory of Rampart’s hesitation in the car stole treacherously across Rikiya’s mind, a flutter of anticipation in his chest. He pressed the salute harder against his forehead and nodded.

“It will be difficult. At times, you may wish to stop, to run away. But to run away from this is to fail the cause.” Quarter moved his hand to Rikiya’s shoulder. "I know you don’t want that. That is why you must tell me now that you wish to see things through to the end.“

"I do,” Rikiya answered, dropping his arm back to his side. He stood as straight as he could manage under Quarter’s grip without activating his meta-ability. The stress spots on his brow lay still and controlled. "I won’t fail.“

"Everyone fails.” Quarter intoned the words; they hung, heavy and resonant, in the room, as if the walls had leaned in closer to hear them. "What you must learn—what you are here to learn—is to get back up. To not use your failure as an excuse to stay down.” He leaned back slightly, though his hand remained. “I need to hear the words from you out loud. Give me my orders.“

Rikiya hesitated. The air in the room felt heavy, a weight pressing against his skin from all sides like he was standing at the bottom of a swimming pool. If it weren’t for Quarter holding him down, he surely would have been floating away, ejected up towards the surface.

He forced himself to breathe. Think of the future, he reminded himself. Think of what’s at stake. He swallowed down the urge to look towards Rampart, instead focusing harder on Quarter.

"Teach me,” he said, hands curling into fists at the quaver in his voice. “For as long as you have to.”

“Yes, Grand Commander.” Quarter squeezed his shoulder once more and, finally, climbed back up to his feet. “Now then, show me your meta-ability.”

And the walls closed in.

————

It was later.

Rampart had left. Quarter had gone and talked to him, words too quiet to hear over Rikiya’s ragged breathing. And then Rampart had left.

Rikiya rallied for calm as Quarter’s meta-ability pressed in around him again. The invisible barrier boxed him in on all sides and was still compressing, a horrible sense of the very air crushing tighter and tighter around him. He could smell the sweat soaking through his clothing and even jostling an elbow out too far bumped him up against a solid wall.

“I understand you’ve developed a new application of your family line’s power,” Quarter said from somewhere behind him. “Show me.”

Rikiya half-turned his head, trying to get a bead on where Quarter was standing. “You don’t,” he said unevenly, “have any targets in here.”

“You did see the damage to the floor mats, didn’t you?” the voice asked. “We’ll work on accuracy later; right now, I’m only finding out how much work you need to do. Just underhand a toss across the floor.”

Black stress dripped down Rikiya’s arms to pool in his cupped palms, the smoothest externalization he’d ever managed. He shaped it in trembling hands, waiting for the walls to come down.

“Well?”

“The—your meta-ability.” The air grew heavier again. Rikiya struggled to get his breathing under control. His body ached to swell up and burst the unseen cage. Was it solid? Was it air-tight? The thought sent another jolt of alarm through him, swelling the stress bomb in his hands. “Take it down so—”

“Take it down?” Quarter asked, not quite incredulous. “No. Why would I?”

“It’s in the way,” Rikiya choked. Isn’t it? Is it one-sided? Can he open gaps in it? As he racked his mind, tremors spreading up to his arms, Quarter walked back around in front of him. Hands clasped behind his back, he studied Rikiya with raised eyebrows.

“I would have thought you’d have figured it out by now. There’s no barrier, boy, no invisible wall. it’s all in your mind.” He reached out, smooth and deliberate, and gave a light flick to Rikiya’s forehead, as if he was rebuking a child. Not for an instant did the pressure relent. “Everything you experience with me will be. Now do as I say.”

Cheeks hot, Rikiya shuffled half a step around. He drew back an arm and immediately winced back from the wall his mind still found too convincing. What if he’s lying? That’s ridiculous. In training or not, I’m the Grand Commander of the Army. No one lies to me.

He still couldn’t make his arm follow through.

————

The room spun around him wildly, too hot, too cold, and his control frayed through yet again, black beads of corporeal power plummeting towards the floor like iron ingots and bursting into nothing, stress swelling the size of his limbs, pressing him against the walls, a weight on his back like a bed of nails, prickling pain and a swell of nausea—

“—better than this,” said the cool voice through the roaring in Rikiya’s ears as he dropped to all fours, gagging on nothing. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe—!

“How disappointing.”

————

It was, again, later.

Quarter’s hand landed on his shoulder and Rikiya flinched. Exhausted as he was, stress mottled across the backs of his hands; his bloated fingertips pressed creases into the floor mats as he sucked in air through his teeth.

“Well,” Quarter remarked, “control issues aside, you’re quite the wellspring, my Grand Commander. We’re going to have a lot of work ahead of us.”

Rikiya screwed his eyes closed, fighting not to shrink back. Breathe, breathe. His breath still felt raw in his throat, his head pounding.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” The trainer dropped down to one knee and lifted a towel to Rikiya’s face, cool and damp. Rikiya looked up. Quarter smiled, an even, level thing that came nowhere near the blue-black pits of his eyes. “And we’ll tell Rampart how strong you were today.” His hand didn’t move. Over his shoulder, the bare walls swam in Rikiya’s vision.

Rikiya nodded.

————

“Let’s open a window,” Rikiya told Koku a week later, the two of them doing schoolwork in the sitting room. “It’s a nice day out.”

His friend gave him a disbelieving look, then leaned back to look out the window. “Are you joking? It looks like it’s going to rain any time now.”

“Then it’ll be a nice breeze.” He smiled—easy, natural, well-practiced.

“If you say so,” Koku replied, still with a measure of skepticism. All the same, he got up and levered open the window.

The room cooled immediately, the leaves of Anchor’s house plants murmuring. The brush of air on his skin eased the knot that had been gradually tying itself tighter in Rikiya’s stomach. It did, in fact, smell like rain.

“So how’s your training with Quarter going?”

Rikiya’s smile twitched once at the question. The smell of sweat filled his nose, a hint of bile at the back of his throat.

“Very well. I’m learning a lot,” he answered, barely hearing the words. He made a show of stretching to camouflage his grimace. “Did—you ever train under him, Hanabata?”

Koku strolled back over and dropped back down to the cushion across the table from him. “No, my meta-ability works on other people; it’s not so good for one-on-one work like that. I do my training with Idol and the third regiment. Or my uncle, when he’s in town.”

“Right.” Rikiya nodded understanding and straightened back up, returning the smile to its place. “You’ll have to take me along someday.”

Koku shot him a pleased grin. “Of course. Whenever you want. And same to you.”

That was never going to happen. Quarter hadn’t even let Rampart into the room after the first day. It’s a matter of morale, my Grand Commander. None of your followers would want to see you like this.

Rikiya laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as awkward to Koku as it did in his own ears. “Right.”

——— ——— End Chapter 1 ——— ———

Author’s Note Part Deux: Aside from wanting to examine how something as massively fucked-up as the Claustro came about, this story is also a result of my looking at the Liberation Army and thinking, “Okay, I was pretty nice about this when I was writing about you all for MLA Week, but…”

I wanted to take a look at someone who’s considerably less righteous about the cause than the True Believers I wrote about all week long for MLA Week, because an environment like the Liberation Army is fertile ground for exactly the sort of danger that Quarter represents. Frankly, there’s every chance in the world that, if he’d been brought up in more normal circumstances, Quarter would have been content enough to subtly use his quirk to clear out long lines ahead of him at the DMV or make people who were being obnoxious in public nervous enough for reasons they couldn’t articulate that they’d slink out. Instead, he was brought up in the MLA, which exacerbated and enabled all his worst traits.

Rikiya is, suffice to say, in for a rough few months.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #yotsubashi rikiya #re-destro #meta liberation army #cw: cults #cw: claustrophobia #cw: panic attack #cw: psychological abuse #also verbal belittlement and abuse masquerading as training #my writing #ficcing

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fanfic-collection · 6 years

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Pirates: Loki x Reader - Ch 1

It's the 17th century, Loki and Thor have been sent to Midgard to track down a rogue ice sorceress, they're trying to blend in with humans so their powers are as hidden as they can manage. The ice sorceress became a pirate and trusts no one. To gain her trust, the brothers have become pirates in their own right. (Alternate timeline where Loki knows his true heritage at this point in history but is deeply ashamed of it, he and Thor are on good terms. )

“And you're certain these are the coordinates?” Loki muttered, holding still the ship's wheel.

The first mate nodded enthusiastically, a look of nervousness on his features, fearful of disappointing his captain. “Aye, sir, this was the direction she was headed.”

Loki nodded, his gaze turning towards the horizon.

“You really think she'll show?” Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs to the raised platform where Loki stood, guiding the ship. A blonde crown of hair appeared, followed by the rest of the muscular man.

“It's the only lead we have, brother.”

“And why are you captain again?” Thor asked, his eyes twinkling jovially.

Loki smirked, sliding his hand along the wide brim of his cavalier hat. The hat was gold, even the feather, matching the accents of his green and black outfit. Two tiny triangle flaps of material lined the crown of his hat, if only faintly resembling horns. He missed his normal helmet but this one was far more conducive to their current work and still bore a resemblance to his horned motif. “Because I'm clearly the better pilot.”

“For seafaring vehicles.” Thor muttered, shielding his eyes from the harsh sunlight. His long blonde hair hung in ringlets to his shoulders, resting on the smooth muscled skin. His long red velvet coat he normally wore for formal occasions was missing, clearly discarded in his quarters. Instead he wore a blue sleeveless shift, brown trousers and thick leather boots that rose to his knees. His outfit was one of practicality.

Loki wore a long green coat with tails that fell to his knees, flared out at the back, black leather kneehigh boots and a black button-up tunic, buttoned to his throat and pinned with an ebony gem. His long black hair was loosely tied back, preventing the wind from whipping it into his face. Across his chess lay crisscrossing black belts, sheathed with a half dozen daggers. Loki's muscles shifted easily to the swaying of the boat as he guided the ship lazily, an easy air about him. He was leaner than Thor, that was apparent, but his muscles were tightly wound coils able to hold the ship still in even the fiercest of storms.

“Leave us, Pons.” Loki dismissed the first mate.

Pons bowed his head and scurried off.

Thor walked over and stood shoulder to shoulder with Loki, his back facing the rest of the ship's deck as the many workers scurried about. “I'm not sure I'm fond of this scoundrel life, it's lacking honor.”

Loki smirked again, eyes slitted against the wind, “Come now brother, you seemed quite fond of our missive when it involved loading the cannons.”

Thor glanced over at Loki for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face as he once more turned his head to watch the horizon. The deep blue ocean went on forever, as far as he could see, no sign of land in sight. “I will admit that was fun.”

“And you do love your battles.”

“You seem to love the stealing far more than you should.” Thor retorted.

“We're stealing from corrupt nobility, paying honest sailors a living wage that they can't get anywhere else. They would be next to slaves if they were on so called honest ships.”

“We are nobility.” Thor grumbled.

Loki rolled his eyes, “Not here. And you'll forgive me if I find ways to enjoy myself while we look for her.”

Thor sighed, “Yes, the rage of battle even on such a location as these ships we moor is diverting.”

“You enjoy it.”

“I do.”

“Now then, what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“One of the lookouts thought he saw fog in the distance, that is her thing, yes?”

Loki nodded stiffly, “They didn't call out?”

“They weren't sure if it was an incoming storm or something else. You know how wary the sailors get of witchcraft.”

“Well if it's not you, and it's not natural,” Loki trailed off, glancing pointedly at Thor.

“Captain!” A voice cried out from the lookout tower. “Fog on the horizon!”

“It's not me.” Thor muttered, “And it's not natural.”

“We've been at this for two years now.” Loki peeled his gaze towards the horizon where a dense fog was slowly rolling in. A dark shadow loomed from the mists as the fog drew closer.

Thor turned around, following Loki's gaze. “You were right about her not trusting us. Surely it would have been easier to just disguise ourselves as nobility and let her rob us.”

Loki shrugged, “This was more enjoyable, a respite from home. Besides, I didn't want to take chances, we don't know anything about her crew that they would trust someone so obviously using magic and who knows the extent of her powers.”

Thor grunted, “I could take her.”

“She's a powerful sorceress brother, we don't know the extent of what we're dealing with and neither you nor I can breathe under water. I want all the advantages we can have.”

Scowling, Thor's eyes darkened irritably, “You sound like you admire her.”

“If she were a great muscly brute like you, I'm sure your interest would be piqued, as it is, this is my area of expertise, I can't help a small amount of curiosity.”

“What exactly is your plan again?”

“We make an ally of her, perhaps she will return home willingly. Besides, there was no limit on how long we were given to apprehend her, perhaps she can be amenable to our ways. Asgard could use a powerful sorceress to defend it.”

The fog now surrounded the ship, slowly blocking out the sun. In the distance, it was becoming obvious that the large shadowy object was indeed an approaching ship. The sailors on Loki and Thor's vessel scurried about nervously.

“Hold steady!” Loki called, raising his voice that he might be heard over the whipping wind. The sailors pulled and tugged at various ropes and cords, some running below deck to check the cannons and assemble various weapons.

Thor touched the hammer fastened to his waist. A curious weapon for a sailor but the one he was best with. Though it had been enchanted to hide any runes or obvious markings of its true nature.

Now the fog swelled over the boat, snaking its thick tendrils along the deck and blocking the view of Loki's men. He could barely make out Thor standing a few steps from him.

“Pons, hold the wheel.” Loki ordered loudly.

A few moment's later, the first mate came stumbling up the stairs and over to Loki, taking the captain's spot at the ship's wheel.

“Which direction?” Pons stammered.

“Just hold her steady.” Loki muttered.

Pons bobbed his head.

A great black shadow loomed before them, floating lazily over to the side of the ship. Then as suddenly as the fog had sprung up, it vanished.

A massive vessel, almost twice the size as Loki and Thor's ship loomed beside them. A crew of fierce, ugly men, they looked more like trolls than actual men, stood gathered on the edge of the opposite ship. Their weapons were all drawn, various clubs, cudgels, swords, and blades. They glared menacingly at the ship.

Loki walked down the stairs from the captain's wheel, making his way to the point where a plank might be tossed and the two vessels' occupants could meet. Thor followed slowly after him.

Walking with a calm, easy strut, Loki stopped among his gathered crew, his own men glaring back at the crew of the other ship.

“Who are you?” One of the trolllike men growled, a rag wrapped around his head. Loki guessed he was the firstmate.

“I am Loki, captain of the Black Raven, my brother Thor, co-captain.” He tilted his head in the direction of Thor. Thor raised his hand in greeting. “We seek the captain of the Plomour.”

“Do you now?” A cold voice called. The troll men parted and a woman stood among their ranks. You.

Your men parted around you as you walked over to the edge of your ship, stopping just before the rails. You clasped your hands behind your back and scanned the opposite ship. You had heard of the Black Raven, the captains were the most deadly in battle and the younger of the two was said to be an excellent tactician, but that seemed to be the extent. For as much as you were shrouded in mystery, they were too. They had only been raiding noble vessels for a few years, appearing as if overnight fully stocked with their own vessel. Such an occurrence was surely a cause for suspicion.

You wore a long blue doublet, kneehigh white boots – somehow kept pristine throughout years of ocean travel, a deep blue cavalier hat, and icy blue gloves. A long deadly looking scabbard, bedecked with silver trimmings hung at your waist.

The man in the gold hat with long black hair and fierce green eyes stared at you intently.

“I am the captain of the Plomour. You called?”

#Loki x reader #multi chapter

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elementsofemotion · 3 years

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Chapter 1: The Forest Prince

Birds chirped in greeting to the morning sun as it lazily climbed its way up into the eastern sky, it's brilliant rays peeking through the tall oaks and only coming to a stop when its light was scattered about the forest floor.

Deep within the forest, at its very center and towering above the rest, stood the Great Tree, home of the Nature Goddess. The forest was her kingdom, and she loved it as much as it loved her. Though the tree was mostly hollowed out as living quarters, it still lived and flourished beautifully thanks to the Goddess’ power. It was the landmark of the Eternal Forest.

It was at the top of this landmark that a tiny nature sprite flew out from the leaves. Sprites were a common resident of the Eternal Forest, along with the other realms, as helpers of mana regulation. Their bodies were almost humanoid, though more rounded and undefined with nubby, slender legs and tiny hands. Their faces were almost reptile like, also rounded and with soft features that made their large eyes stand out. The humans often called them fairies, though it wasn’t a term the sprites were fond of.

The nature sprite’s translucent wings were multiple shades of orange and pink, arranged in a pattern reminiscent of a monarch butterfly. His skin was a deep emerald green, with darker green markings adorning his arms, legs, and nubs that continued into the antennae on the top of his head. His tail was long and slender, with leaf-like extremities that eventually ended into a pink lily.

The sprite paused in midair, quickly taking in his surroundings before quickly dropping down to the forest floor, like a falcon diving down onto its prey.

Down among the tangled roots of the great oak was the person he was looking for. The boy was considered extremely young for a spirit, only existing in the world for a mere 120 or so years, as opposed to those who had lived for millenia. On the outskirts of the long reaching roots, his home was in a shallow burrow. Moss and giant flowers gave him excellent bedding to sleep on, with the roots above him providing adequate protection from the elements.

The boy slept soundly, curled up into a tight ball in the center of a particularly large flower. Though he was down below the roots, light still reached him in plentiful amounts, dotting the area around him with the warm, yellow sunshine. Six magnificent wings- black with white tips on the right side, white with black on the left- covered him like a blanket, protecting him in a warm shell from the outside world. His feathers shifted ever so slightly with each breath.

He had messy, rosey-brown hair with a small, nubby set of black horns sprouting up from it. Black and silver Headphones covered his ears, the band carefully pushed behind his horns in an attempt to make it stay in place. He wore an unusual looking army green jacket with white fur trim, over-sized for his small frame. His undershirt was white, and black ripped-up pants were tucked into black and white converse boots. As if to match his horns, a devil-like tail was curled up around him as he rested.

The sprite landed hard on top of the boy’s folded wings with little regard to his feathers. He didn’t stir even as the sprite began to jump up and down, his weight barely noticeable.

“Caelian!” He called, sliding down the boy’s wings and landing down on the floor near his head. “Caelian! Wake up! Come on, you lazy bird!”

Caelian’s wings shuddered, before they slowly opened up around him, revealing the small boy they were protecting. He blinked his azure blue eyes groggily, not bothering to stifle his yawn as his wings neatly folded against his back and he lifted his head.

“What is it, Nathaniel?” He asked, his usually soft voice slightly hoarse from sleep.

The Sprite flitted up from the root he was standing on to the top of Caelian’s head, plopping down into a sitting position in one swift motion.

“Gaia wants to see you!”

“Oh, really?” He let out another yawn. “That’s all?”

“Yeah, she- HEY,” Nathaniel let out a shriek as Calian plopped his head back into the soft patch of moss he had been using as a pillow, causing the sprite to roll off into the roots. He let out puffs of annoyance as he climbed back up, dramatically slapping his tiny hands on top of the large root as he pulled himself up without his wings for assistance.

“Okay wise guy, no. You’ve had ENOUGH sleep, it’s time to WAKE. UP,” He emphasized the last two words as he pushed against Caelian’s face, earning little reaction.

“It’s warm out- and I’m tired- Let me sleep, Gaia won’t mind.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure Gaia will appreciate her disciple not taking his job seriously. Not like she needs anyone to help monitor the barrier and take care of the forest denizens.”

Caelian cracked open an eye.

“Poor Gaia, having someone so young and lazy as a disciple. Surely, her work is cut out for her,” Nathaniel sighed dramatically as he turned away from Caelian, shrugging his hands and shoulders. “So busy regulating the forest’s mana, y’know, so the realm doesn’t fall apart- but I suppose she’ll just have to somehow deal with everything herself since her disciple can’t even do his job. I mean, for anyone else it would be a great honor to serve as the right hand to one of the Gods, but hey, if you’re tired, go back to dreamland.”

Caelian had fully opened his eyes while Nathaniel spoke, giving the sprite a very blank look. Beside him, a soft green light began to dimly glow, growing in intensity over the span of several seconds. A moment later, a lantern materialized, the intense light quickly pulled into a sphere that floated inside of the lightly tinted glass. Vines and flowers sprung to life, twisting and turning around the lantern’s exterior as they appeared from seemingly nowhere. Finally, the light inside of the lantern dimmed again, leaving it enveloped in a sparkling green aura.

Caelian pushed himself up into a sitting position. He gave himself a light shake, stretching out his wings slightly and ruffling his feathers.

“I do take it seriously,” he said. “It is an honor to serve Gaia.”

“Then up!” Nathaniel huffed. “Up, up, up!”

He didn’t wait for Nathaniel as he climbed up and out of the tangled roots, though the sprite hardly needed him to wait, as he quickly flitted up through the roots much faster than he ever could. Nathaniel waited, hovering patiently in the air as Caelian climbed out into the beams of sunlight. He momentarily squinted against the increased amount of light, before stretching out his wings to their full length, unable to do so back in the confined space.

“Great! Let’s go!” Nathaniel darted upwards towards the hollow he had descended out of, only to pause a moment later and look back down at Caelian, who hadn’t moved. He wore a blank expression on his face as Nathaniel smugly called down to him.

“Come on! Make your wings useful for something!”

“You know I can’t, Nath,” Caelian said as the sprite zipped back down, stopping a foot in front of his face.

“Man,” Nathaniel stuck out his tongue. “Six wings and you can’t even fly. What's the point of having them? Can’t you just learn already?”

“I’ve tried, it doesn’t work.”

“Oh come on! I can fly with just two wings! Six wings has to be like, super easy!”

“I can’t, Nath,” Caelian repeated.

“Sure you can! Just flap them a few times and fwoosh, you’re flying!”

Nathaniel hung in the air, his arms raised up in exaggeration as Caelian stared quietly at him. After a few moments of silence Nathaniel sighed, mimicking a sitting position in the air as he rested his elbow on his knee and his chin on his hand. “Man, teasing you is no fun. You never get riled up.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” He asked.

“It's no fun,” Nathaniel sighed. “You’re so boring when you have Nyxidae out. Whatever, let's go the long way.”

Caelian glanced over to the green lantern that hung in the air beside him as Nathaniel flew away. Nyxidae was the name of the elemental within the lantern: The green light that hummed softly within the glass. The elemental was also what would influence his current personality and emotions.

He set off to follow Nathaniel to the base of the giant tree. Surrounding it, blending into the wood seamlessly as if naturally formed, was a staircase that twisted around the entire circumference of the trunk, leading all the way up to the top. It was quite the trek, and one Caelian was familiar with.

Nathaniel waited as Caelian took the first few steps up the stairs, before flying off far ahead of him, only to stop and wait again for the boy to catch up.

Caelian still vividly remembered when he was younger and unable to feel anything. It was assumed he was born without any sort of emotion, if such a thing were even possible. It wasn’t for certain if he was born that way or if something else had occurred to cause the loss of emotion, as he really had no memory of his early childhood. It wasn’t until Gaia found him wandering lost in the forest and took him under her wing that he received a gift of four elementals that allowed him to finally experience emotion. To feel something. To finally experience being alive.

Back when he felt nothing, he never could understand that he was missing something the others had. The smiling, laughing- He couldn’t understand what made people do such strange things. Until Reimos, his Fire Elemental, showed him that same feeling of happiness. It was then he understood. Gaia had given him what was possibly the greatest gifts he could have ever asked for, and he hoped to never have to revert into the lifeless, blank slate he used to be.

Nyxidae was the name of his Nature Elemental. The feelings she embodied were things such as Tranquility, Hope, and Peace. She also enabled him to feel a strong sense of duty for his position as Gaia’s disciple.

It was a while later that Caelian finally reached the top of the winding stairs. At some point during the trek, Nathaniel had gotten tired and decided to take a rest on top of his head. The staircase ended into the treetop, where a large platform was laid out underneath the canopy of leaves. Woven branches made a solid footing for Caelian to step onto. In the center of the canopy sat Gaia, a being several times larger than Caelian or any other person.

Her long brown hair flowed gently down along her body, brushing against her glowing tanned skin that had flowing vines and leaves growing along it. Beautiful white wings sprouted from her back, gently fanning themselves in the air. Atop her head two magnificent antlers rose, their bases hidden by the flowers weaved into her hair.

She appeared to be resting against an enormous ball of moss, her eyes closed and her breathing light. It wasn’t until Caelian stepped closer to her that she slowly opened her eyes with a smile.

“Good morning, Caelian” Her voice reverberated throughout the room. It was a soft, soothing voice that gave the feeling of safety and comfort, like a gentle breeze among the leaves.

In response, Caelian quickly dropped into a deep bow, causing Nathaniel to let out a squeak and grab onto his horns to prevent himself from falling off.

“Good morning, Gaia.”

He remained bowed until he glanced up at the sound of Gaia setting her hand down in front of him, her palm facing upward.

“Come, now. I’ve told you that you don’t need to be so formal with me.”

Caelian gave her an unsure look as he straightened back up, Nathaniel letting out a sigh of relief before quickly removing himself from Caelian’s head and flitting off somewhere out of sight.

“Come. It’s fine.”

Caelian gently clambered up onto her hand, fitting neatly into her palm. He sat with his hands resting in front of him, steadying himself as Gaia slowly raised her hand up, stopping when Caelian was close to her freckled face. Her sky blue eyes gazed at him lovingly as she lifted her other hand, using a single finger to gently stroke the top of his head.

“There you are,” She hummed as Caelian leaned into the finger that was now gently stroking the side of his face. “Are you only allowing Nyxidae out? You should just be yourself, Caelian. Don’t worry about appearing diligent in front of me.”

With that, three more lights began to shine around Caelian, before growing in intensity and materializing into lanterns, just as his first one had. Blue, Red, and Yellow colored elementals- Water, Fire and Celestial-were added alongside his green nature sprite, each with their own unique aura and decorations.

“There, isn’t that much better?” She laughed as Caelian was now making a sound reminiscent of a purr as he pushed himself into the fingers that were stroking him. His tail wagged excitedly behind him, and the feathers on his wings were puffed up to look twice their size.

“My silly little sprout, you don’t need to force yourself to one elemental at a time. They're designed to all work in tandem with each other.”

“I want to be a good disciple,” Caelian said, his cheek pressed against Gaia’s fingertip. “Only Nyxidae really helps with that.”

“You are a good Disciple, Caelian,” Gaia smiled. “Besides that, you’re my darling little sprout, and I’d never wish for you to limit your emotions like that. Now, tell me, what have you been up to since I last asked for you?”

“Um, I’ve been checking the borders of the realm every day like you’ve asked me to,” Caelian said as he placed his hands against Gaia’s thumb. “Your barrier still feels strong- nothing should be able to get in and… So… Um- What are we keeping out, again?”

“There’s just been some rumors floating around and I want to take precaution. It’s nothing for you to worry about, dear.”

“Yeah, but...”

Gaia stroked Caelian’s head again. “What about the forest? Everything seems normal?” She asked, trying to steer the conversation away from the barrier.

“Oh! Yeah, everything seems fine… I played with some deer the other day!”

“Oh?” Gaia grinned. “Did you, now? What did you play?”

“The headbutt game!”

“I see, is that what the cut on your cheek is from?” She mused, gently rubbing his cheek with her pinky finger. “Well, did you win?”

“Nope!”

Gaia laughed. “Perhaps next time, then. But please be careful, I don’t want you to get too hurt.”

“It’s okay, the deer are nice! They wouldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t,” She smiled. “Now, what about the forest denizens? Have they had any problems recently?”

Gaia’s expression fell into a soft frown as Caelian grew quiet and looked away from her.

“Caelian...”

“I don’t like talking to them.” He said.

“I understand, Caelian. But as my disciple, it’s part of your job to assist them with any problems they can’t handle by themselves.”

“But they never even tell me if they need help with anything. I don’t see the point. Nathaniel always asks me if I feel upset when they call me things, but… Hey, Gaia, what does that mean? To be upset?”

Gaia gently stroked Caelian’s head and let out a soft sigh. “Oh, Caelian… it’s better if you don’t feel that way. Just think of it as… not liking something.”

“But isn’t it strange?” Caelian frowned. “I thought you granted me the ability to feel all of the emotions?”

“There’s some I’m not able to give you. But they’re all negative emotions, so perhaps it's for the better.”

“But… How can some emotions be bad? Emotions are linked to the elements, so… are… are there bad spirits as well?”

“I’ll explain it all to you someday, my little sprout,” Gaia said softly. “For now, I want you to go to the town and try talking to the villagers. Can you do that for me, please?”

“Yeah.. I can try,” Caelian said as Gaia lowered her hand back to the ground.

“Don’t be afraid to put your foot down if they disrespect you, Caelian,” Gaia said in a gentle voice as Caelian climbed out of her hand. “I understand you’ve ended up caught up in the middle of the dispute of who they think I should have chosen. But the decision was mine and mine alone, and I have chosen you to be my disciple.”

“Why did you choose me, anyways?” Caelian asked as he stared up at her. “Everyone says I’m… unqualified.”

Gaia slowly lowered her head down to Caelian’s level, resting her chin on her hands as her eyes met his.

“It’s true that you’re young, Caelian. I don’t doubt there are others that feel they would have been more qualified for the position. However,” She lifted her head enough to release one hand, using it to gently stroke the top of Caelian’s head with a fingertip. “I sense great things from you. I firmly believe you’ll grow into something amazing.”

Caelian seemed pleased with this answer, letting out a purr as his feathers ruffled up.

“Now, go ahead and run along,” Gaia urged with a smile. “Come back and see me when you’ve finished checking in on them.”

“Okay!” Caelian said before turning and running back across the root platform and towards the shining light of the sun.

Nathaniel, who had been waiting for Caelian outside, turned to see him just as he exited the canopy.

“Oh good, there you are. Did Gaia- Hey- Hey Cae- CAELIAN WAIT PLEASE NO NOT TODAY DON’T-”

Nathaniel’s screaming was ignored as Caelian kept running to the edge of the platform and jumped off, doing a forward flip as he tumbled out of view.

He grinned as the wind ripped past him, tussling his hair and making the tail of his coat flap violently. His wings remained firmly pinned against his back, his feathers ruffling fiercely from the wind. The wind urged them to open, to catch the wing between his feathers and soar. But he knew better.

He took a moment to admire the forest during his long fall, since it was only from high up in the sky that you could really take in the vastness of the forest. As he grew closer to the ground, he turned himself so that he was facing upright with his legs neatly tucked underneath him.

The blue lantern’s light that followed behind began to grow in intensity until water shot out of the lantern, spiraling and wrapping itself around Caelian. It formed a sphere around him, encapsulating him in a giant bubble.

As it hit the ground, the water rippled heavily as it absorbed the shock of the fall and bounced back up into the air a few feet. Caelian was thrown around inside for a bit as the bubble continued to bounce from the kinetic energy, before finally settling into a soft roll along the ground.

The bubble of water burst just as Nathaniel made his way down to where Caelian was sitting, sighing as he looked at the now drenched boy.

“Seriously?” He asked.

“It’s quicker,” Caelian said nonchalantly as he stood up, shaking some of the water from his clothing.

“Thanks, Iaestia.”

The blue lantern, whose light had now dimmed back to normal, made a satisfying chiming noise as it circled around Caelian.

“You’re going to get hurt one of these days,” Nathaniel sighed. “It’s good that you trust in your elementals to protect you, but… Jeez, I never realized how terrifying someone that doesn’t experience fear can be.”

Caelian shrugged. “I still don’t know what you mean by that.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Nathaniel grumbled as he landed on the ground, folding his arms as he glowered up at Caelian. “You don’t feel afraid so you don’t stop and think about the possible consequences of your actions.”

When Caelian only gave him a confused look, Nathaniel let out another sigh. “Well, whatever. Gaia asked you to go to the village, right?”

“Yeah… You’ll come with me, right?”

“Of course,” Nathaniel huffed. “Someone needs to be there to get angry when they all start being assholes to you.”

Caelian tapped his fingertips together as Nathaniel darted back up into the air. “It feels weird, though- I know they’re being rude and not saying nice things to me, but… I don’t really feel anything from it.”

“I mean, it doesn’t make you feel good , does it?”

Caelian paused before slowly shaking his head. “No… I don’t feel happy from it… or comforted, or anything else… The only thing I really feel is when the children throw rocks at me. It uh, hurts... in a physical sense, I mean.”

“Don’t worry, if we see those brats again I’m sending a blast of nature magic their way, kids or not.”

“Don’t hurt them, Nathaniel,” Caelian frowned. “They’re just kids.”

“Kids that throw rocks,” Nathaniel snorted. “Whatever, fine. Let’s just get going.”

Nathaniel flew ahead again, albeit this time at a much slower pace. Caelian took a moment to try and shake more of the water off, before following Nathaniel off into the overgrown forest.

#EOE #elements of emotion #web novel #fantasy #chapter 1

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idthellyeah-blog · 4 years

Text

“Quiltheads” by Bill Latham

(In May 2017 my good friend Bill Latham passed away. It knocked me on my ass and put me in a spiral for a few years. Bill was a legend, in every way possible. We'd been friends since playing in bands together at The Cog Factory and had some wild misadventures later in life. He was the dude I would call when things were grim. He headbutted a bro dude at a bar once and rode another dude down a flight of stairs like a sled. Legend. I hate that we grew apart, but that's what happens with most friends. I was left with messages between each other trying to eventually meet up in Austin and a very old email of a sketch idea Bill wrote. Here it is in its entirety. I hope to someday make it a real thing. Miss you Bill.)

QUILTHEADS

A script

by Bill Latham

[Scene 1]

[Camera fades in on a dusty, country 2 lane highway. The sky is red with the dawn of early morning. The trees along the road are green and full]

["Sugar Magnolia" by the Grateful Dead fades into the scene as a beat up VW Microbus rolls down the road.]

[The camera hovers over the VW Microbus as it rolls down the country road past farm houses.]

[Slowly the camera passes over the bus and the shot cuts to a front view directly facing the driver and front seat passenger. The people are both quite visibly old hippies with long hair, beards, beads, rose tinted shades, and buckskins.]

[The camera cuts to an inside view of the van. The driver [GRIZZLY] is smoking a joint and tapping with one hand on the steering wheel. The woman in the passenger seat [HALO] is cross stitching something.]

["Sugar Magnolia" fades out slowly]

[The camera cuts between side shots of GRIZZLY and HALO as though the camera were looking from the listener's point of view in the conversation.]

GRIZZLY

We need to stop for gas, babe.

HALO

How much do we have left?

GRIZZLY

Less than a quarter tank.

[HALO begins to put her cross stitch work into a tote bag.]

HALO

I'll check the map and see what town's next.

[HALO unfolds a well worn map. She studies it very quietly for a moment. GRIZZLY hands her the joint and she takes deep toke off of it, holds her breath, exhales, passes it back to him, and resumes looking over the map.]

HALO

Where are we anyway, man?

GRIZZLY

In the van, babe. In the van.

[They camera cuts to a view of a green road sign showing several different towns and distances.]

HALO

Looks like we have five miles 'til Arbor Junction.

[GRIZZLY inhales the last bit of the joint and places the roach in the Microbus' ashtray along with several others.]

GRIZZLY

Arbor Junction it is, babe.

[Grizzly scratches his beard and thinks to himself for a bit.]

GRIZZLY

Where are we catching the Quilt at again?

[The camera cuts to an outside view of the VW Microbus as it continues down the road.]

[The Highway scene fades out.]

[End scene]

[Queue the Jimi Hendrix version of "All Along the Watchtower"]

[Title sequence and credits for the movie begin as "QUILTHEADS" fades into the shot]

[credits, etc.]

[Scene 2]

[The camera cuts into a very tidy and orderly looking office.]

[Text appears on screen: Grand Forks, North Dakota]

[The camera pans around the room revealing several bookshelves full of encyclopedic looking books, potted plants, and a large embroidered, psychedelic square on the wall in black matted frame.]

[The camera pans to a door and a man in a blazer, slacks, with a well trimmed beard enters the room.]

[Text appears on screen: John Naughton, Professor of Historical Studies, University of North Dakota]

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON reaches toward the camera and shakes the hand of the off screen INTERVIEWER.]

INTERVIEWER

Thank you for meeting with us today Professor Naughton.

[The camera maintains a focus on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON at all times and never shows the INTERVIEWER.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

It's my pleasure. Now what can I do for you?

INTERVIEWER

Well, as I said on the telephone yesterday, I was looking for someone to give us some background on the AIDS quilt and the people who follow it around the country.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON looks outwardly, very stern, but manages an amused smile.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Oh you mean the Quiltheads?

INTERVIEWER

Yes, the Quiltheads.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON chuckles to himself a little bit and regains his composure.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

We'd better have a seat then.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON walks towards his desk and takes a seat. He clears some papers aside and places them in a drawer. He reaches under the desk and pulls out a bottle of Wild Turkey Whiskey and sets it down in view of the camera. He picks up the telephone at his desk and hits a number.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Send in two glasses of ice, Irene. Thank you.

[The camera stays focused on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON as he sits and waits without saying anything. The interviewer is silent as well.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

I'm sorry for the delay.

[There is a knock on the office door and the camera pans towards it. IRENE the secretary enters the room with two glasses full of ice and the camera follows her as she sets them down on PROFESSOR NAUGHTON's desk.]

[The camera pans back to PROFESSOR NAUGHTON]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Thank you, Irene.

[The camera follows Irene as she leaves the room and closes the door and then pans back to PROFESSOR NAUGHTON who is now pouring the Wild Turkey into the two glasses. He hands one to the INTERVIEWER and they clink glasses.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Ah, Kentucky...now where were we?

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON sips on his whiskey as the interview begins.]

INTERVIEWER

First off, what can you tell us about the AIDS quilt.

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

The AIDS quilt is a memorial for people who have died of AIDS related causes. It began in 1987 and has continued for over 20 years now. It's the largest community art project in the entire world. The panels in the quilt are sized at 3 by 6 feet, to represent the standard size of a human grave. The panels are grouped into 12 by 12 feet sections called Blocks. Usually there about 8 panels in one block.

INTERVIEWER

And why is this?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, when the project began, many funeral homes would not handle the bodies of deceased AIDS patients and many were cremated rather than buried. The project represents a graveyard in the form of a patchwork quilt, but without the morbidity of a graveyard as it is a celebration of the lives of people who have died from AIDS. Currently there are 44,000 reported panels. The quilt itself weighs over 54 tons.

INTERVIEWER

That's fascinating. Now, what subcultural groups have been involved with the quilt in the past?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, there have always been a wide variety of folks involved with this project. I mean, what else can you really expect from a disease that can affect every human being regardless of race, gender, economic status, or sexual preference? Honestly, when you have a disease that affects everyone, you see a sampling of literally everyone represented.

INTERVIEWER

So, why Quiltheads? What makes the Quiltheads different?

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON has a deeply concerned looking stare.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

I'm trying to find a polite way to say this...

INTERVIEWER

Feel free to take your time.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON scratches his chin]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

It's clearly a sensitive issue and I don't want to appear callous and I don't wish to generalize...

INTERVIEWER

...but?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, Quiltheads tend not to, well...

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON struggles for the words and sips his whiskey.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

...it's just, they don't...

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON stares above and sort of beyond the frame of the camera.]

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

...they usually don't have AIDS or much association with anyone who does. They aren't coming out to see the AIDS quilt in support of anything. In fact, many of them that I have met may not even be aware what AIDS actually even is. This may be for the best as they would probably describe it as "a bummer" or "harshing their mellow".

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON finishes the whiskey glass in a gulp and begins to pour another.]

INTERVIEWER

[long pause]...How can they have missed out on that information?

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

Well, as I understand it, up until 1995 the vast majority of Quiltheads spent their summers following the Grateful Dead around on tour as many of them had been doing since the 1960's. As you can imagine, these people have consumed massive- and I say that in the way that the universe is massive- massive amounts of lysergic acid diethylamide. I mean, they've been dosing themselves for years with LSD. That's bound to effect perception of reality quite a bit. Now, I understand that was exactly what many of them were going for, but there comes a point where everything has become so disconnected from reality for these people- the disconnect is so great- they're utterly divorced from reality... they...they...oh Christ...I can't believe I'm even letting you interview me about this.

[PROFESSOR NAUGHTON takes a giant gulp from the whiskey glass.]

INTERVIEWER

And I thank you very much for doing so, sir. Your assistance has been greatly appreciated.

PROFESSOR NAUGHTON

What I'm trying to say is that the Quiltheads are an anomaly unto themselves. In 1995 Jerry Garcia died and these people were left with a large gap in their lives. Many of them began asking themselves who or what they would follow around from city to city next? Some of them happened across a viewing of the AIDS quilt while loaded on acid and then found out it was a touring exhibition. Suddenly, they had a new purpose in life. They had a new experience. They had something else to follow around the country that would allow them to peddle shoddily made Hippy crap in the parking lots of every civic center and arena from the Atlantic to the Pacific. And ever since they've continued to grow.

INTERVIEWER

Thank you very much Professor Naughton.

[Professor Naughton nods and begins to pour another drink.]

[Scene ends and fades to black]

[Scene 3]

[Segue to "Teach Your Children Well" by Crosby, Stills, & Nash]

[Camera fades in at a mom and pop diner in dusty little country town. GRIZZLY and HALO's VW Microbus is parked outside.]

[The camera zooms in towards the door and follows it's way past diners, waitresses, and tables to the dining couple.]

[The camera frames GRIZZLY and HALO from a side view allowing us to see them as they face each other.]

[They munch away on plates of food without saying anything.]

[The camera time lapses while they eat. A waitress walks in and out of the frame. Several diners walk past them. Finally they pay the waiter and get up and leave. The shot fades to black and the music goes silent.]

[end scene]

[Scene 4]

[Camera fades in at a craft table in a crowded parking lot.]

[Queue "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones]

[The camera pans across the tables' wares revealing hackey sacks, dream catchers, small glass marijuana pipers, beanies, and hemp necklaces.]

[The camera cuts across different scenes in the parking lot: hippies playing hackey sack, families walking together towards the civic center, elderly folks, gay rights banners, extremist christian protesters, etc.]

[The camera cuts back to the craft table in the parking lot where a man is standing at work]

[Text appears on screen: Denver, Colorado]

[The camera pans up to the man selling the products, an old acidhead Hippy with a scraggly beard, wearing a dye tyed t-shirt.]

[Text appears on screen: Benjamin "Wolfy" Johnson, Salesman]

[The camera zooms in on a sale that WOLFY is making. An old woman hands him a twenty dollar bill and he passes her back a hemp necklace.]

WOLFY

Peace, man.

[Wolfy flashes her a peace sign.]

[The old woman smiles and walks out of frame.]

["Gimme Shelter" fades out.]

INTERVIEWER

We're here in Denver, Colorado with a peddler of small trinkets that calls himself Wolfy outside of an AIDS Quilt viewing. Wolfy sells handmade items in the parking lot at these displays and follows the AIDS Quilt all over the country. Wolfy, when did you first discover the Quilt?

[Camera zooms in on WOLFY. His eyes are very glassy and his pupils very dilated. He looks stoned out of his mind.]

WOLFY

It musta been about...I dunno...'96, '97... everything was kind of a blur after Jerry died, man. I was wanderin' around DC one afternoon and I'd just taken a few hits of this Batman blotter acid...I'm from Baltimore originally and I was hanging out in DC a lot in those days...

[The camera stays focused on WOLFY who is not particularly focused on much of anything. His eyes wander when he isn't speaking and he plays with his hands and fidgets like a scared child.]

INTERVIEWER

In 1996, Washington, DC hosted the largest display of the AIDS Quilt on record at the Capitol Mall. Is this the display you saw Wolfy?

[WOLFY's attention returns to the camera and he looks directly into the shot.]

WOLFY

Whoa?! Far out! I was at the biggest display?

[WOLFY is once again distracted.]

INTERVIEWER

Well, I can't necessarily say for certain, Wolfy...

[WOLFY resumes his stare into the camera.]

WOLFY

Duuuuude... yeah, it was outside. I remember seeing the Washington Monument and thought I needed to stop and worship it...I was pretty zonked dude...I'd taken a few hits of this Batman blotter acid...and see, I'm from Baltimore originally, but I was hanging around in DC a lot in those days...

[WOLFY is still staring at the camera and talking as he interrupted.]

INTERVIEWER

Uh, yes- you already told us that, Wolfy. Now, about the Quilt-

[WOLFY holds his stare into the camera and looks visibly excited.]

WOLFY

Well, dude, the Quilt totally blew my mind. I still don't even really understand what it's all about. But if I drop a few hits of acid or eat a fistful of mushrooms, I can walk around staring at it all day long. Sometimes you see the most fucked up things and sometimes you see things that make you feel so sappy you want to cry because your heart feels so moved. It's insane dude!!! Ever since that afternoon I understood that I was meant to follow the Quilt around. I started selling merch in the parking lots for gas money & food to keep up with it. I've been on the road following the Quilt now since '98.

[WOLFY begins to stare off camera again.

INTERVIEWER

And you have friends who do this too, correct?

WOLFY

Oh yeah, man. We live for the Quilt. The Quilt is like God for us, man. When we look into the Quilt we see things that we never thought we'd see in our entire lives. It's a really positive experience over all, man. I love the Quilt.

INTERVIEWER

Wolfy, do you know what the Quilt represents?

WOLFY

It represents a lot of things man. Each one of those panels is different.

INTERVIEWER

Well, yes, that's true, but what I was asking about- just a little more specifically was "do you know what the Quilt is a memorial for?"

WOLFY

Well...I'd say people. Yeah, it's definitely about people, man.

INTERVIEWER

...And there's something that all of those people have in common, right Wolfy?

WOLFY

Everybody's got something in common, man. I heard Keith Richards say once that "blood is red and bones is white".

INTERVIEWER

...And while I agree that's an interesting point, Wolfy, I'm kind of asking you what we reporters call a "leading question"...

WOLFY

You lead and I'll follow, man. I think I get it.

INTERVIEWER

[with growing agitation in his voice]

What kind of people are being memorialized, Wolfy?

WOLFY

It seems to be about everybody, man. I can dig that.

INTERVIEWER

[Explosively]

Do you even know what a Memorial is for??!

WOLFY

For remembering, man. For remembering.

[Camera follows WOLFY back to his craft table as someone hands him money.]

[The camera pans from the view of the table to a view of the grass as though the camera man has tossed it in a fit of irritation.]

INTERVIEWER

Goddamnit!

[The shot fades to black.]

[End scene]

[Queue "Brokedown Palace" by the Grateful Dead]

[The camera fades in on the side of the two lane highway that we have been following HALO and GRIZZLY down.]

[Their VW microbus is pulled over on the side of the road and the front driver side tire is clearly flat. There is a jack propping the vehicle up. GRIZZLY is busily working at the lugnuts with a tire iron while HALO sort of dances to a song that no one else can hear.]

[The camera zooms in on GRIZZLY who continues to turn away on a lugnut.]

[He stops turning the tire iron for a moment and looks over to HALO.]

GRIZZLY

Hey, babe, it's "righty-tighty-lefty-loosey" right?

[The camera pans to HALO who turns to him still sort of dancing.]

HALO

Yeah, man. "Righty-tighty-lefty-loosey" it is.

[The camera cuts back to GRIZZLY.]

GRIZZLY

Oh good. I was gettin' worried there for a minute.

[GRIZZLY successfully removes one lug nut and holds it up in front of his face a little bit and then peers through the hole in the center. He sets the tire iron down and stands up. He stretches his arms out and opens the driver side door of the microbus. Seconds later he emerges from the microbus with a joint and sparks it up. He holds the lugnut back up towards his eye and looks through it and then takes another toke.

[The camera pans to HALO.]

[HALO dances over towards GRIZZLY and the camera follows. She takes the joint away from him and takes a couple of puffs herself.]

HALO

Hey man, you've only gotten one of those lugnuts off that tire! You still got 3 more to go and then you gotta put all of 'em back on before it's time to party!

[GRIZZLY smiles sheepishly.]

[He gets back down on the ground, picks the tire iron up and gets back to work.]

[Halo sits down beside him on the road and continues to smoke the joint.]

HALO

What do you think the Quilt's gonna be like tomorrow?

[GRIZZLY removes another lugnut. He sets it down on the side of the road next to the first one. He begins to remove a third.]

GRIZZLY

We haven't caught it in a couple weeks, Babe. I expect it to be pretty intense. Where are we catching it at anyway?

[HALO thinks for a moment and her stare is intense. A smile creeps across her face as she remembers.]

HALO

Omaha, Nebraska, man. At some auditorium.

[GRIZZLY continues to unfasten the lugnut.]

GRIZZLY

Far out, man! I wonder if Omaha's ready for us?

[HALO holds the joint in front of GRIZZLY's mouth so he can take a drag too.]

HALO

I think it's the same place we saw the Dead in '78, man.

[GRIZZLY stops. He drops the tire iron. His eyes are wide with excitement.]

GRIZZLY

WHOOOOOOOA! Far out, babe! It'll be like...what's that word...synchronicity!

0 notes

amplesalty · 4 years

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Independence Day: Resurgence (2016)

We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We’re going to live on!

In honour of the fact that yesterday was July the 4th, it felt appropriate to finally check out the sequel to the 1996 classic Independence Day. Not that I should really be honouring it considering my side lost in that particular exchange. Plus, as K-Pop stans on Twitter taught us: #allcountriesmatter

I remember thinking it was a bit strange that it took 20 years to get a sequel. I mean, the original was one of the highest grossing movies of the 1990’s (and still within the top 100 of all time) and featured the iconic image of the White House being blown to smithereens. There was a massive marketing push at the time with that scene featuring heavily and the nickname ‘ID4’ seemed to be everywhere. And whilst not exactly in line with the contents of those movies, its scenes of mass destruction helped continue the ongoing disaster movie trends and helped it kick on into the late 90’s and early 00’s with the likes of Twister, Dante’s Peak, Armageddon, Deep Impact and The Day After Tomorrow.

Of course the most notable part of that first movie is President Whitmore’s stirring speech that is rivalled perhaps only by the words of Colonel William F. Guile in Street Fighter as the most inspirational speeches in cinematic history. Even Gilbert Gottfried felt compelled to give his own reading to this glorious battle-cry.

The sequel leans quite heavily into this speech, with Whitmore’s words echoing out across the galaxy and being picked up by what seem to be brethren of the original attack force from 96, giving rise to the new invaders.

But Earth isn’t going to be a pushover this time around, we’ve been able to meld the alien technology from that first wave with our own, developing plasma weapons and even establishing a moon base with a giant frickin’ laser beam. It’s cool to see that technological leap and how humanity was able to learn from that event in a materialistic way. Plus, it provides a nice contrast later on in the film when the aliens wipe out all satellite communication and people are forced to go back to the old ways of radar and radio waves. There’s something amusing about people literally dusting off an old piece of equipment they found in a cupboard and it helps save the day.

If revisiting the speech wasn’t fan service enough, the movie really starts to wallow in it as it starts trotting out all the old faces, even if that’s only a painting in Will Smith’s case. Apparently he wanted too much money to sign on so his character was killed offscreen in a test flight back in the year 2007. Still, it’s high praise to have his picture hanging on the walls of the White House alongside Washington, Jefferson etc. We still get an ace pilot named Hiller though in the form of his son, whose old friend Patricia Whitmore, the former president’s daughter, is working in the White House. Her fiancé is out in space and has a bit of a rivalry with Hiller. I spent the whole movie thinking the actress who plays Patricia looked really familiar and it turns out she’s the girl from It Follows. These characters are a bit underdeveloped and it feels like they just drafted them up last minute as a replacement when they realised they couldn’t get Smith to come back, only apparently they knew for years that he wasn’t going to be involved so chalk it up to incompetency I guess.

As happily coincidental as it seems to have them just happen to have grown up and filled these crucial roles, it does save us from further movie padding from having to break off the story to go find out what happened to them. Like, there’s a good portion of the movie dedicated to Julius Levinson (Jeff Goldblum’s dad in the original) miraciously surviving the initial wave of this 2016 attack before meeting up with a bunch of kids that just spring up out of nowhere and their grand adventure to get to the safety of Area 51. Only, they still end up in danger when they get there and we have this whole scene of David trying to save them whilst also trying to co-ordinate the big fightback at the end of the movie. It just feels like these kids were inserted as a means of providing some sort of connection with the adults in the audience, as if they can’t sympathise with the fate of the entire planet so they have to give them a bunch of primary school kids to worry about instead.

Even Dr. Okun is back, seemingly from the dead! And he seems to have been Dumbledore’d because apparently he was gay this entire time? I don’t remember that from the first movie. I can only imagine the proverbial angry fist waving going on at the time of the release when the internet found out about this; ‘They’re ruining my childhood with this SJW bullshit!’. Being in a coma for 20 years doesn’t seem to be the hinderance you might think it would be because he’s up and about within minutes, running around marvelling at how the world has progressed and barking orders at people. Kinda lose a bit of your dignity in that when you’re still in your hospital gown with your arse hanging out mind you.

He does have a bit of a lasting effect from his close encounter from the first movie, remnants of the psychic connection to the aliens that is also lingering in President Whitmore and a new character, Dikembe Umbutu who is a African warlord who has been leading a groundfight with his troops against an outlier set of aliens who were able to land and survive the 96 invasion. There seems to be a bit of a wider ID4 canon through various novel releases so I wonder if any of those cover this African war, that might be interesting. I thought this whole psychic connection story might be going somewhere, like maybe the aliens might be able to control those individuals when they do invade and they might use it to sabotage some of Earth’s defences but no. Even President Whitmore starts out portrayed like he’s gone a bit crazy and that he’s barely able to function at times but he heals up pretty quick.

Either that or maybe the US General is in cahoots with the aliens somehow? I mean, he does end up being sworn in as acting President when the current President is killed along with her line of succession so he has benefited from it personally. I probably wouldn’t have had any thoughts like that though if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s William Fichtner playing him and he’s just a perennial bad guy.

That Umbutu guy is pretty badass though, runs around with a pair of big knives that he goes into close quarter combat with, cutting the aliens out of their suits and then chopping their heads off. Which ties in to an aspect of the movie that I liked, there’s much more hands on combat between the humans and the aliens in this movie. The first one obviously had a big focus on aerial combat, which is largely present here as well, but there’s a lot of ground combat as well which freshen things up a bit. There’s a section where the air troops are sent to attack the mothership and end up inside it, only for it’s defense mechanisms to ground them. It has this jungle/marshland vibe to it, like they have this whole habitable land with crops and stuff within the ship, and it leads to this section where a couple of the pilots are hiding beneath the water, sneaking around to avoid detection.

On the other hand though, I didn’t feel anywhere near the impeding level of threat of the first movie. The story is that the aliens are drilling into the Earth in order to harvest it’s molten core in order to fuel their systems before moving on to the next world, kinda like Galactus I think? Whilst this would lead to the destruction of the entire planet, it just felt more threatening when they had their ships stationed over all the major cities of the world. Plus, it feels like they’re more content on their drilling operation than actually engaging in any fights with humanity which leads to a lot of scenes where people are just standing around not really doing anything. It seems at odds with the introduction to the movie as well where the initial attackers distress beacon is sent out, that would imply they’re calling for reinforcements but now it just seems like they were just going to come and steal our shit anyway? Or maybe they just consider us vastly inferior that it’s not even worth the effort. Pretty dismissive considering we wrecked you last time out.

That’s not to discount some of the special effects on show, the movie is bookended by big action scenes that are a particular highlight. The invading mothership is said to be so big that it has it’s own gravitation field leads to a really cool visual of our heroes trying to navigate their ship through a skyline littered with buildings, cargo ships and jumbo jets.

The finale with the alien Queen attacking Area 51 is really cool as well. You’ve got this massive alien rampaging through the desert, controlling all the alien fighters around her like a swarm. I think all the sheer size and all the tentacles lend it a bit of a Cthulu vibe.

Absolutely massive amount of sequel baiting at the very end though which doesn’t look like it will ever be fulfilled. It did take us 20 years to get this one but they seem to have had ideas to make a trilogy of sequels in fairly quick succession but the critical and financial failures of this one means it’s looking kinda dead in the water at this point. It still grossed some $390m against a production budget of $165m but you’ve probably gotta factor in a fairly sizable marketing budget that will really eat into that margin.

It’s a bit of a shame, I would have been interested in the series continuing as I personally found this enjoyable in spite of some the issues I have with it’s run time, bloated cast list and inadequate replacements for the charm and energy that Will Smith brought to the original. Trim off some of the fat and it would have made things a lot smoother. Did we really need to know what Mrs Hiller was up to 20 years on? I think just about the only character we didn’t revisit from that movie was their dog. I guess Boomer will not live.

#Independence Day #Independence Day: Resurgance

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ganymedesclock · 7 years

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We Wayward Stars ch. 2

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Summary: Altea burns, and in the way of burning things, not all of its ashes scatter in the same place. Centuries and galaxies later, the Garrison unearths a massive, unknown machine- and its frozen pilot.

This chapter: Lance makes friends and disregards boundaries.

Quintants pass. It’s hard to keep track of time because he doesn’t have a window, and humans keep time in unfamiliar units.

Mostly, he sleeps. A lot of people want to talk to him, ask questions. After a while he can talk about Altea without losing his voice. Some of them leave disappointed- he’s able to recount, well enough, how a teludav works, or barrier crystals, but he couldn’t tell someone how to build one, or where to look for parts. He isn’t an engineer.

Samuel Holt is easily the most persistent. The makeshift Fyllrue board gets a lot of use- other times, he brings paper and a pencil and asks about Altea’s culture. Takes notes. It leads to talking about writing- their spoken languages match up almost perfectly, which is one thing, but the writing is completely different. Picking up the letters isn’t that hard- their alphabet is only twenty-six characters- but the phonetic attachments stump him for a while. It’s some time before he can figure out how to spell his name in their letters.

And they tell him about themselves, as well.

Sam has two kids- he brings a picture of them, grinning, holding a creature he calls a “dog” between them. The dog looks less pleased with the arrangement. Lance tells him about Allura- recounts the time he went missing for a week trying to find flowers for her birthday that time he was eight.

Sam is an all right guy, it turns out- he doesn’t mind, when Lance can’t finish that story.

(Every time, he keeps thinking he’s done crying about it. Every time, he’s surprised)

He sleeps less. Restlessness starts to set in, and he paces the length of the small apartment more than a few times. Gets in the habit of returning to his bed when he hears someone coming- the first time he’s caught, a nurse tuts at him disapprovingly.

They still won’t let him see Blue. At this point, he’s more or less identified the one-eyed man who seems to be in charge- Iverson- and he’s skeptical when Lance points out that he’s feeling better.

Fortunately, it would appear they’ve been seriously underestimating him.

And he’s been paying attention.

His quarters include a bathroom, and, after the last time he’d asked, a variety of hairties and clips. Braiding his hair again feels good, for reasons entirely outside of getting it out of his face. It’s a reminder that he’s finally getting down to business.

Eyeing his reflection, he contemplates. The silver hair is going to have to go. It’s showy, obvious- and looks great, but that’s entirely beyond the point right now. It’s one of the more coveted points of Altean beauty, and, as best as he’s been able to tell, has no earthly equivalent. His luminous patches, he can cover, they’re simple enough, and the bigger ones are already accounted for with the simple shirt and pants he’s wearing. Other than that, it’s mostly just the ears.

Shifting is always an interesting feeling, of things settling in on themselves, cartilage and sinew reconfiguring. Relatively little of that, this time.

He surveys his results- brown hair, shorter ears- he can’t completely get rid of the way the tips come to points, but he can get away with it. One pair of bandaids later, and he makes a decent looking human, if he says so himself.

The door is locked- against outside intrusion. Tsk tsk, humans, they have been underestimating him. Or overestimating his injury.

One flight of stairs later, he relents that he may have underestimated his injury just a little. But personal freedom is a surprisingly effective painkiller, and he’s back on his feet rapidly.

The first thing that hits him stepping outside is the heat. A yellow sun presiding over a world mostly red and orange, sand and scrubland stretching as far as the eye can see out to canyons. Sam told him that most of this planet was water- but it’s a little hard to believe that, looking outward.

The structure itself is bigger than he’d assumed. It looks like there’s several other wings, branching off an imposingly-sized central building.

Is that where they’re keeping the Blue Lion? It’d certainly be big enough. And either way, he wants to find out what’s in there.

Up hallways, down yet more stairs (his ribs don’t like that) he can tell he’s heading in the right direction because the place is definitely livelier than the halls he’s gotten behind. At first, it’s just guards, or people in the gray uniforms that he’s used to. But then he starts to see others- people in orange, people more his age, if he’s reading humans correctly at this point. The former, he hides from- but the latter, he musters the particular princely decorum that’s gotten him out of scrapes before- the walk of ‘yes sir I have every right to be here, nothing suspicious whatsoever, really you’d just look silly asking me for my qualifications’.

It goes spectacularly, right up until he walks directly into someone. “Someone” who does an excellent impression of a roughly meaty wall in a uniform. Gray uniform.

Lance’s heart skips a beat.

“New?” The man asks, amiably. His dark hair is trimmed very close to his head, except for a single tuft overlooking his forehead. Even dark-eyed and strange-eared as humans are, he’s rather handsome. Which really just makes the situation worse.

“Huh? Oh- yeah, absolutely. Brand new. How’d you tell?”

“…Well, you’re walking around in your PJs.”

A small nervous twitch installs itself under Lance’s eye. “…Casual fifth quintant?”

(he doesn’t even know if it’s fifth quintant. He guesses. Assumes. Hopes.)

The uniformed man’s other eyebrow raises to join the first.

After a moment, he pats Lance on the shoulder lightly. “A lot of people forget their uniform first day. Don’t worry about it too much.”

It’s a while after he’s gone that Lance allows himself to breathe. And considerably longer before he attempts a much more forced-casual saunter down a side hallway.

All right, Lance. Think about this. He’s not going to find Blue just running into people. There’s something. Something…

The quintessence of the Lion resonates with its paladin.

He’s no paladin, obviously, but he connected with Blue once, right? That has to count for something. Maybe he can find her again.

Meditation breathing had been drilled in him since he was practically old enough to sit up in the proper position. He could do it in his sleep at this point- eyes sliding closed, counting by fives, moving away from the crowded hallways let him focus just on the footsteps; just him and the person following him. And there was something… ahead. Below.

Wait.

He comes to a stop. Hands in his pockets. Trying to downplay his jangling nerves. “You know, normally when people are trying to shadow somebody, they’re actually stealthy about it?”

“…Huh?”

“Don’t huh me, you’ve been following me for the last three doboshes!”

The stranger blinked. He was a full head taller than Lance, powerfully built, but his wide hands are gathered almost timidly in front of his chest. He’s another one of the orange uniform guys. “What? No, I was trying to… Okay, yeah, I was following you. I’m lost, okay? This campus is huge, and you looked like you knew where you were going.”

Well, that was… an improvement over whipping out a luxite blade and trying to take his head off in Zarkon’s name. Not that that was… real likely. Right. This guy’s human, as far as he knows Lance is another ordinary human. They’re having a nice normal human conversation.

…A conversation where Lance isn’t a scientific oddity.

“…All right.” He scuffs his bare toes on the floor. “Sorry. I’m Lance.”

“It’s… It’s Hunk, all right?”

Lance smothers a chuckle, feeling bad for the look the other boy sends him.

“Yeah, blame middle school. Shouldn’t we get going? I don’t wanna be late.”

And he’s got a narrow window to operate on before they realize he’s missing, but that’s not something you can drop in casual conversation without raising a lot of awkward questions. He slides back into the breathing pattern.

It’s tricky to hear with shortened ears- but something’s there. Faintly, he can hear Blue humming.

“So… why are you here?”

“I told you, I got lost. Or- oh, you mean that as more generally kind of ‘here’.”

“Yeah, you don’t exactly look like most of the guys I’ve run into.”

Hunk levels a vaguely affronted look at him. “Look, if you start playing with rocket fuel outside of a space exploration program, you get a lot of awkward calls from the government. This stuff is the literal cutting edge. You don’t get much newer than other planets.”

That actually brings Lance to a stop, eyeing Hunk with newfound interest. “Other planets, huh?”

Whatever he sees in that look seems to worry him. “…That’s… what I said, yeah.”

“You’re gonna like this, then.” He hears something- down the hallway.

“Oh, man, you can’t just say something like that. Is this hazing? Is that where this is going? Because-”

“Shh!”

Two guards pass by, walking abreast. Fortunately, they don’t turn down the hallway- the narrow alcove Lance shooed Hunk into has nothing to cover it from the front. No sooner have the footsteps faded that he’s on the move again- going down the hallway the direction the guards came from.

“We’re really not supposed to be here, are we?” Credit to Hunk, he keeps his voice down, though he voices his concerns as soon as Lance stops to catch his breath. “Are- are you okay?”

“Doing great-!” He straightens up, a little forcefully, and regrets that too.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“Probably because he has a broken rib and shouldn’t be out of bed at this point.”

Iverson folds his arms.

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

“I don’t think you realize the gravity of your current situation.”

“I think I get the gravity just fine. I’m not just going to sit around here like a pet Juillrat.”

“And the cadet that saw you?”

“Correction, saw a perfectly normal human.” He’s still wearing the bandaids- but everything else is back to normal.

Iverson sighs, deeply. “Right. That. When were you going to tell us you can do that?”

He leans on his hand, a trace of smugness slipping through the irritation. “You didn’t ask.”

“Don’t play games with me, boy.”

There’s a smart remark on his lips, but something about Iverson’s tone quashes it. He works his jaw, wordlessly.

“You recovered a lot faster than we’d estimated. Regardless of how you’ve set yourself back a week with this little escapade. That’s… on us. But if you want our help- and you need it at this point- you need to listen.”

“…Sir,” it feels like a good place to start. “I know how to respect foreign dignitaries. And respectfully- if I’m staying here, we’re in danger. If Altea can’t stop Zarkon’s army, Earth doesn’t have a chance.” Altea might’ve won. They might’ve fought back. He wants to say that- but with the Blue Lion here? Without Voltron? When his father decided to abandon the planet and send the castle and Lions away?

He doesn’t want to think about it- has been trying not to this entire time- but not thinking about it won’t fix anything. “I can’t just stay here and rest my feet up without knowing if they’re coming for me, or the Blue Lion.” Not knowing if anyone survived.

Something softens in Iverson’s face. He rubs his temples, breathes into his hands for a moment.

Silence between them. A clock in the hallway is ticking softly to itself. One of the guards standing outside of the door is fidgeting.

“Can I trust that you’ll stay put for the rest of today? If-” he raises a hand as soon as Lance draws breath to protest- “what you say is true, there are people that need to hear this. And… we might be able to work something out. But that will take time. And I expect you to be able to follow instructions.”

More waiting. He hates the sound of that.

At the same time… He has a leg in the door here. More than just sitting in a room. And Iverson is right. He doesn’t have a lot of other options- and failing all else, those other options hinge on him being healthier than he is now. Which will take time anyway.

“Do we have a deal?”

Two-toned eyes meet a single dark one.

“We have a deal.”

#voltron legendary defender #vld #Lance #Altean Lance #fanfiction #We Wayward Stars #readmore #Ganymede Fic Tag

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wasilewskitbfrostzn64insura-blog · 5 years

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eddiejpoplar · 6 years

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First Drive: 2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4MATIC

SEATTLE, Washington — Pity the poor sedan. Cheap gas and shifting market demands mean that consumers who once loaded up the family four-door for that summer road trip are now packing crossovers and SUVs up to their panoramic sunroofs in people, gear, and pets. That’s bad news for automakers pushing smaller, lower three-box vehicles, so much so that Ford recently announced its decision to stop selling sedans altogether. Other automakers may soon follow.

But not Mercedes-Benz, who is banking on the success of its new entry-level model in sedan form. The new A-Class sedan will join the small CLA “four-door coupe” and GLA CUV in its U.S. showrooms starting early next year, completing a trio of sub-compact, premium vehicles targeted at bringing new young, mostly urban buyers into the Mercedes-Benz family from competing brands. The CLA, launched in 2013 and the previous Mercedes entry point, did this in droves, with over 50 percent of its buyers being first-time Benz owners that the German brand hopes will move up into its larger, more expensive products when they outgrow the A-Class lineup.

Riding on an all-new chassis with a short 107.4-inch wheelbase, the A220 is the U.S.’s first taste of a small traditional, three-box A-Class sedan. Equipped with MacPherson strut front suspension and a four-link rear suspension, the new chassis was optimized over the current CLA/GLA platform to provide improved noise, vibration, and harshness characteristics as well as more positive handling. This same chassis will underpin the new CLA and GLA models when they launch in the coming years and it’s all but certain that the sedan’s new 2.0-liter, 188-hp, 221 lb-ft turbocharged four-cylinder engine will also be shared with its siblings as the base engine in the United States, paired to the brand’s 7G-DCT dual-clutch automatic gearbox.

Inside, the A220 looks every bit the premium car Mercedes-Benz wants it to be, with turbine-styled climate control vents and a free-standing, fully-digital instrument panel and display that is similar in appearance to the E-Class sedan. Both digital IP cluster and display are 7.0-inches in base configuration, or 10.25 inches if you select the $2,100 Premium Package, which also includes auto-dimming mirrors, Blind Spot Assist, and keyless start and entry among other features. Center stack switchgear and gloss black trim looks every bit as swanky as on MB’s more upscale models and the perforated and grained soft-touch plastic dash materials are very nicely fashioned.

Bigger news is the implementation of the brand’s new MBUX infotainment system, which makes its debut on the A-Class sedan and will go on to replace the current COMAND setup across the full line-up (next up to receive MBUX is the 2019 GLE, we’re told). The MBUX system does away with the old center-console mounted rotary controller in favor of a touchpad in its place and a touchscreen display on the center stack. That said, Mercedes is expecting that MBUX’s new voice command interface will ultimately be what most A-Class sedan owners use to input their demands. Similar to other “smart” tech products, users call up the voice command system by saying “Hey, Mercedes…” and then giving a command in plain, conversational speech. Brand engineers say the artificial intelligence-enabled system is designed to understand more complex commands than your typical automotive interface. “Hey Mercedes, what is the meaning of life?” yields a thorough and thoughtful response from MBUX’s robo-woman voice and asking “Hey Mercedes, find an Italian restaurant in Seattle with at least four stars that is open at 9:00 pm,” as you might ask your iPhone’s resident personal assistant, Siri, is a viable request. What MBUX can’t change by voice is vehicle drive settings, such as ESC or active safety features, as a function of safety. We found the system to work reasonably well in practice, though we’d like to spend a week with MBUX so that it better “learns” our voice and speech patterns before arriving at a final conclusion. That said, you quickly learn that while you could task MBUX with simple commands such as turning down the radio volume or turning up the climate control temperature, it’s often faster and easier to just do such menial tasks yourself and save the more complex stuff for the computer.

Other advanced system features include some nifty navigation tricks. For example, using the front-mounted camera to project an image of the road ahead on the center display, MBUX can superimpose a turn arrow as you approach the street it asks you to turn on, helping to clarify exactly where the navigation system is directing you. It can also superimpose building addresses on each side of the street as you approach them and the names of cross streets. This is technology that is more than just flashy, it’s also extremely useful and is clearly the way forward for manufacturer-integrated navigation systems and possibly future versions of Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. We were also impressed with the 10.25-inch system’s sharp resolution and its tablet-like functionality, with swipe and multi-touch gestures available. The steering wheel controls were also useful, with tiny pads for swipe functionality and individual controls for instrument panel and center displays on the left and right wheel spokes, respectively.

Move to the rear seats and you’ll find a more spacious rear cabin than in the CLA or GLA, though this is still a small car with limited room for those over six-feet tall. Really, rear seating is best kept to shorter trips for average-size adults, though smaller children will find plenty of space.

During the drive program, we logged miles on the city streets of Seattle, twisty mountain roads that circle Washington’s Mt. Rainer, and stretches of highway further east towards Yakima. Our tester was a pre-production A220 4MATIC (designating all-wheel drive) equipped with 19-inch AMG wheels on low-profile summer tires and the AMG Line package with the lowered sport suspension (adaptive suspension is also an available option), drilled brake discs and various AMG trim items. We found the ride to be on the firm side, as expected from such a setup, though still compliant enough that we don’t feel passengers would be unduly uncomfortable. We’re confident that opting for the base suspension and 17-inch wheels would provide a more compliant ride though we weren’t able to experience a car so-equipped.

The new 2.0-turbo engine is impressively smooth and linear in its response, eager to run to its 6,500-rpm redline and with full torque feeling like it arrives arrive low in the rev range (Mercedes was unable to give us peak hp and torque rpm, leading us to conclude that final tweaking is still underway before the car’s launch in the first quarter of 2019). This is the A-Class’s base engine, and if 188 hp doesn’t sound like much, it doesn’t feel like it either and output is unfortunately significantly less than the CLA 250’s 208-hp, 258 lb-ft 2.0-liter turbo-four. The 7-speed dual-clutch transmission is up to the task, with quick, smooth shifts whether in automatic mode or using the wheel-mounted paddle shifters. While the A220 is more than capable of keeping up with fast-moving traffic, the chassis is talkative and lively enough (especially with its sport options) that we couldn’t help but think what a future AMG version might be capable of.

Mercedes used a new electric power steering setup on this A-Class which provides good feel and excellent weighting and precision, stiffening up nicely when the car is switched from Comfort to Sport mode, which also sharpens throttle tip-in, holds the seven-speed DCT’s gears longer before upshifting, and allows a little more slip before the ESC reins in the fun. An Individual drive mode is also available to mix and match sport and comfort settings.

Is the sedan segment dead? We certainly hope not if manufacturers can still bring fun-to-drive models to market like the A220. In our time with the car we came away very impressed and itching for more time in a full production version as we get closer to the A-Class sedan’s launch early next year. Mercedes is mum on pricing, though you can expect the A220 to start at roughly the same amount as the current CLA, or around $34,000 including destination fee, while the upcoming all-new CLA moves slightly upmarket.

2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4Matic Sedan Specifications

ON SALE Spring 2019 PRICE $34,000/$45,000 (base/as tested) (est) ENGINE 2.0L turbocharged DOHC 16-valve I-4/188 hp @ N/A rpm, 221 lb-ft @ N/A rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed dual-clutch automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, FWD/AWD sedan EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 179.1 x 70.7 x 56.9 in WHEELBASE 107.4 in WEIGHT 3,600 lbs (est) 0-60 MPH 7.0 sec (est) TOP SPEED 130 mph (est)

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jonathanbelloblog · 6 years

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First Drive: 2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4MATIC

2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4Matic Sedan Specifications

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#IFTTT #Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4

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jesusvasser · 6 years

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First Drive: 2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4MATIC

2019 Mercedes-Benz A220 4Matic Sedan Specifications

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#IFTTT #Performance Junk WP Feed 4

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ian-jang · 6 years

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how you can develop ourselves a good cat hammock.

You understand it's like a hammock ... for pet cats. And also there's actually a great deal of styles around on the internet, however I kind of conceptualized, and also talked to a couple people as well as attempted to determine what was the simplest one I could make. That would not involve embroidery. Due to the fact that I'm not good an embroidery and also I do not have an embroidery machine on me. So I've got a strong idea to make a wonderful cat hammock without sewing and also actually just a number of pieces as well as it need to be very cheap. So, we're going to require a frame for our hammock So exactly what I got is actually two half inch bars of PVC pipe Like a fifty percent inch diameter here As well as these bars are like 5 feet and price about $3. I'm not sure if I'll need the full 10 feet that I have, yet I figure much better secure than sorry. And when I run over the complete design soon, you'll get sort of a suggestion of what does it cost? you require. Believe me it's easy math You're good to go. Additionally I believe half inch needs to be more than solid sufficient There should be no item longer than 20 or 30 inches and also this must be solid sufficient for that. (Cat making noise in background) This must be strong sufficient for that. Yet if you have a specifically big, huge, heavy cat or maybe like an infant puma or something, you can three quarter inch or inch thick things if you wish to. But you most likely don't need it. So we got our huge pieces and we additionally need our adapters. So we're going to require 4 of these and also actually let me show an illustration really fast so you have a concept of just what I'm attempting to do here.

Art is not my specialty incidentally Primarily we're simply trying to make a table So just what we're going to need here is pieces to link the legs to like the square frame component. As well as on the top of the legs you in fact want something that sticks up a bit. That way we could actually hold the material in position. So my suggestion right here is This will certainly be the corner of your table, so you're going to have a leg right here as well as part of the tabletop going in this manner. And then, you're going to have one more piece attaching it right here and this will form the various other item of the table. Ideally if you might buy a piece where this is incorporated, so state you have something such as this yet it has one more opening right here. That 'd be optimal. However I couldn't locate that at my equipment shop, but if you could locate one, good luck to you. So you'll need 4 of these 90 level elbow joints and also these are like, 75 cents each as well as you'll require like 4 of these T's, which are additionally like 75 cents each. Make sure these items fit this piece. So it ought to have the ability to just glide - right on. Yet still be kind of tight. And you're additionally mosting likely to need a saw I said no sew, however I didnt say no saw. So something like this that has little great teeth will certainly function well and also is possibly a worth financial investment if you don't have it. However also, power devices are where it's at. Inning accordance with my papa, he says you wish to use really fine teeth therefore he provided me this fine tooth blade, so preferably, I'm going to do all my cutting with this. Now depending on that you are, you could have PVC scraps just lying around in your house, if you're that sort of individual. If not, all the pipe and also things that I acquired completed 9 dollars and also 7 cents, which isn't really regrettable. The saws are clearly much more pricey but you do not in fact need to have those if you can borrow them. Although I assume a great saw is constantly excellent to have. Really if you understand your dimensions beforehand great deals of times stores like Residence Depot and also stuff will certainly suffice for you free of charge, that is, if you're a good customer and not like a complete jerk who's like, "WHERE IS THIS THINGS!?" So yeah, be friendly. I mean constantly get along, do not simply be friendly for your very own ways. You understand exactly what I'm claiming. Alright so the last thing we going to require is our material that will in fact be the hammock itself. So my concept for this old pillow case. So we essentially gon na make just what my arms are currently, with PVC pipe just with some legs. And also your feline cat need to rest here right in the center. And the size of your pillowcase will certainly matter what does it cost? pipeline you in fact need. So this is a queen size one, I think my measurements are 20" by 30". So you may have a slightly smaller sized pillowcase therefore you'll make a somewhat smaller sized frame. Yet remember you can always reduce things much shorter if you have to. Ultimately, you're gon na need a set of scissors to do your cutting on your pillow case or simply anything sharp you can reduce a straight line with. Alright first thing I'm going to do is actually develop my framework for my pillowcase. So I basically want to construct a rectangular shape that will perfectly fit this pillow case. So I'm simply mosting likely to throw one of these joints on here As well as I'm going to want to cut this so I have simply adequate space to place one more joint within this pillowcase. So you can simply aim to line it up and eyeball it, Or if you want to utilize a determining name, you can do that as well. so this mosting likely to be a little extra made complex with her helping. So I made a little mark with a con artist however you want this to be as large as possible so you have a nice tight suitable for your hammock. 'cuz if it's too small, you're hammock is just going to sag down to the flooring and after that it's kinda like you're lying on the flooring which's not an enjoyable cat hammock! Alright lets get this blade in below Excellent to go! ** Saw sounds ** Quick as well as easy! You could have a little bit of mess from the PVC simply maintain that in mind. Alright individuals lets not play in this. Bear in mind that your felines might want to try to play in it, sooooo ... Possibly a broom nearby would ready? Alright I"m going to stick this various other arm joint on and see how it fits in the pillow case. So I tried to eyeball this Plainly I was off by half an inch or so So I'm simply going to saw off a little bit much more making certain it fits in there but it's likewise wonderful and also limited. Ideally if you have a twenty inch broad cushion, end to end it should be 20 inches, plus or minus a little bit for the extending of the material as well as the curving and stuff. So I'm not going to give you an exact number, 'cuz it'll probably matter on an instance by case basis. Yet pretty near 20 inches after you get your very first one, it'll be a great deal less complicated for the second one. Alright so this is simply exactly what I desire I have one end in, and the various other end type of hardly slides in there as well as it's pretty tight. To ensure that's really exactly what I desire, is that hardly fit. So currently I'm going to construct the equivalent piece for the bottom below then I'll worry about the sides. So if you obtained one you like, take the arm joints off and then line it up with your other large scrap item as well as use it as an overview The good feature of PVC is that it's rather adaptable as well as forgiving. Alright you could go on as well as sticks your elbows on if you intend to. Attempt to make sure they align great with each other. By which I indicate these two holes are dealing with around the same way. Alright so following step is to develop the external frame for the long edge. Again, this is going to matter the dimension of your pillow. And really now I'm going to get my scissors as well as trim off this side of the cushion case. Such as this strong side. 'Cuz in the end I'm mosting likely to desire this pillowcase to glide onto the frame and it could function as a wonderful hammock. However then it can additionally slide off as well as include the washering if I wish to. So if you have an actually long pillow case as well as you desire a smaller sized cat hammock you could in fact cut down numerous inches. Yet I assume I'm going to attempt to make a long hammock? So we'll see exactly how that goes. That was a bit harder to reduce than I believed. Alright so for your far side, you're mosting likely to need to switch over to your other 5 foot piece. Chances are, its mosting likely to take most of that piece just for these two lengthy legs. So I'm really mosting likely to toss among these T's on below Hold my pillow case right at the end of the T stretch completely over and note appropriate about here is where I have to reduce. Alrighttttt So if I obtain among my various other T's Stick it right about on below The structures beginning to come out So thats mosting likely to be lengthwise. And also these are mosting likely to be both side items. And we're mosting likely to have an additional frame that will discuss here. Once more, I'm going to use one leg as a guide for cutting the various other piece. Align the edges. And mark it. The most convenient way is probably just to sit it on the ground, and also mark it throughout. Alright so I got the 4 sides for my framework. and also this next component is simply a little benefit work If you took care of to locate the piece that type of combines these 2 so it's sort of a 4 opening piece, you won't need to do this. For those of you collaborating with the arm joint as well as the 3 T piece you're mosting likely to have to do this. So I have my length structure as well as I have my width structure. So I have to connect these 2 together. So what means is I require 4 short PVC items. Concerning 1 and also half to two inches That way I can slide them in below, slide em in right here, as well as link em. As well as if you have a power tool, it's not a problem. If you doing stuff manually, I'm sorry for the additional 4 cuts. Simply be careful not to reduce the old-timer off. There you goes, 4 men, roughly inch and a fifty percent maybe a bit less, inch and a quarter long. Just so both sides have a good idea to order onto whoop Alright so, cutting those 4 items. And also I have PVC dust anywhere. Luckily, my other half's out working today. You recognize what they say "Felines away the computer mice will play" ideal kitties? Eh? Eh? I'm simply gon na utilize this piece to mark me there ... there ... about there ... Once more, view your fingers Alright let's placed this framework together. Uh-oh I shed an arm joint. Felines? Oh there we go. Allow's obtain our 4 arm joints on. And also we'll use the flooring to earn sure they're type of level. Then we're gon na obtain our ... I need to sweep this area. Alright obtained all my T's on, got all my elbow joints on. Currently I simply wish to put this all with each other Boom there's our structure And also I think one item might be a little longer than the various other Eventually that does matter too excessive As well as you can aim to bend it a little bit to try to line points up. But if you want to, do a quick little saw. Reduce it up. Really you recognize exactly what, I think it's pretty close. Alright so initial idea here, it still sort of jobs, however perhaps is just a bit a lot more effort than you in fact need to do. Is that your cushion situation will really move over the feet and stumble upon. However if you intend to make it also less complicated to get on pop these people off And after that your feet sort of come together As well as you obtained your pillow instance, you can just glide em precisely. Then after you get the cushion case on there stick your other cross piece back. ALRIGHT Luna it's not ready yet honey. So you understand we have a frame, pillow case extended taut, therefore it's nice and hammock-y. Only thing is, we don't have any legs. Yet all you should do for that is cut 4 legs from this last item stake em on the edges as well as you obtained a hammock. As well as you can actually make your legs as huge as you want them to be. I was simply believing a couple inches off the ground But in all sincerity, you can have it really high or perhaps dual or triple pile em. So I've got about 21 inches left on my pipe. So I'm going to attempt to do 4 five-inch legs. And then throw the various other inch away. As well as the legs are things you're going to intend to see to it you get as level as possible since you don't desire all wobbily of a hammock. 2 of these men are looking golden These individuals have a little of an angle on them I do not want. So you could be able to either handsaw that truly fine or possibly make use of some sandpaper I think? I have had to grind down PVC prior to. Perhaps a rasp? Although if it's small sufficient, your cat might really not notice a distinction. So I'm going to try that now. Boom! Golden! 5 inches appears like a very strong height. Though you may need taller depending upon how much your pillow case stretches out. Or if your framework is a little tighter than mine, your pillowcase may not extend as much. I'm really feeling rather pleased with this! PVC is generally produced gluing, so if you intend to you can glue your adapters, however if you don't intend to maintain this permanently, you may not wish to. On the one upside, if you adhesive these leading elbow joints below, so like here as well as down right here, You might in fact choose this whole thing up as well as bring your cat around on it. If you need to do that somehow ... Now if a cat got on right here and also I picked it up though, it would simply stand out right out. In a perfect world, if this was in fact loosened enough, you could take your pillow case, slide it up as well as over, as well as glide the whole point off the top, as well as slide it back on as you need. Mine might be loose enough to do that if I stretch it a bit, however I do not wish to rip my pillow situation mid video clip so I'll probably attempt that later. Also I don't plan on gluing mine since I do not plan on grabbing my cat in it so the easiest thing is just to pop it open and also slide the pillow case off. That understands, they could still locate it comfortable. I can always look for an older, smaller sized cushion instance. Or if you have added PVC pipe, all you really have to do is make these slightly longer. Whatcha believe? Like it? Another thing If I were to do this again, I might try to determine how you can put a cross item in here Or maybe even an additional bar down the center, although that would certainly kind of sector it in half. However that wouldn't misbehave for a two-cat hammock. The factor I desire a cross-piece is kind of like in scaffolding, I don't desire this to happen. Which a cats not getting hurt or anything However these pet cats are kind of crazy and they run and jump on these things as well as slide around. So at some point it might just fall down sideways and will not be usable till I come over to fix it once again. Yet I prefer to not have that take place But who recognizes maybe that will be modification 2 of cat hammock. Additionally you can embellish this point and expensive it up however you want. I just happen to have this old, kind of filthy old pillow case. Yet if you wish to, you could make this some kind of insane leopard print point. Or simply whatever design you occur to such as. And even the PVC itself could also be repainted, although if you do something like that, ensure you have non-toxic pet paint or something. I actually aren't sure anything concerning that so ensure you do your very own research before like, tinting this thing. However yeah you could prettify it up. Additionally if you don't glue it, it's truly compact. You could break it down and also place it in a box regarding this big, as well as toss it in the corner of the room. And another thing, I maintain bear in mind things I intend to claim. This entire task took me like a hr. And that includes the whole recording time point, so lots of time I'll mess up when I'm claiming something, or begin doing something then move on so you could see it in the camera. Which likewise includes heating up my coffee once more. So it's an actually quick project. Undoubtedly power devices made it a whole lot faster. However nevertheless, there's just 10ish cuts and you could experience that plastic quite quickly. So it's kind of a quick, enjoyable, job. Just for recommendation, I believed I 'd reveal long it takes with a handsaw as well as the PVC. So that really did not take that long, but it take a bit of time and a little bit of initiative. Although I will certainly state the hardest component was actually just beginning. So your saw is just entering one spot. So easily practical, simply a little bit longer. And also one more quick note, I'm really editing and enhancing this video clip right now, but something my daddy brought up, you can really get little rubber feet that will certainly fit on the bottom of PVC. And also this foot can actually fit snug on this pipe, I just occur to have as well huge of one. Yet you can have 4 rubber feet that will in fact hold your hammock extra in place. And also it will make that a person sharp side that you really have actually left nice and smooth. So there you go, that's my Do It Yourself Cat Hammock. https://pets.webmd.com/cats/default.htm givecatsabetterlife.com/product/cat-hammock-beds/

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rebeccahpedersen · 6 years

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What Constitutes A “Legitimate” Complaint Upon Closing?

TorontoRealtyBlog

It’s a trick question, folks. There’s no real answer here.

Ask one hundred people, and get one hundred different answers.

It call comes down to expectations, once again, since some naive buyers out there expect absolute perfection, and others understand the world is not a warm and fuzzy place.

Let me show you two recent emails from agents closing on transactions, and you tell me if you think their complaints are legit…

I suppose I’m opening myself up for criticism here.

As I said, it all comes down to expectations, and if some of the readers find themselves in the same camp as those in the stories below, then I might get some backlash.

I’m a realist, by nature.

And when it comes to expectations, I’m not saying you need to “set them low so you’ll never be disappointed,” but I am saying that to expect perfection in everyone, and everything, at all times in life, is setting yourself up for failure.

There’s also something to be said for “not sweating the small stuff” as well.

You know lady at your office who always comes flying out of the bathroom yelling, “Who left the seat up?” That’s what I’m talking about. A seat being left up is not life or death, and in the grand scheme of things, or even in the context of your day, it’s not a big deal.

You know the guy that always comes flying out of the kitchen saying, “Who took the last cup of coffee – and didn’t put on another pot?” He’s probably at home telling his 16-month old to stop going to the bathroom in his diaper.

Again, it’s about expectations, in life.

People are not perfect, and to expect them to be, is naive.

When it comes to closing real estate transactions, this is one of those areas where perhaps setting a low expectation will ensure you’re not disappointed. And, might I add, ensure that any positive experience is amplified ten-fold.

I’ve told this story before many times, but I’ll tell it again. When I moved into my current condo, there was a hand-written note from the listing agent, who in addition to explaining that he had the entire condo professionally cleaned, at his cost, asked that if there were any issues, to “get in touch.” There was also a bottle of champagne in the fridge, with a ribbon.

That, unfortunately, is setting the bar VERY high in our industry.

I’ve had true “nightmare” closings before. I can’t dig up the blog, but I recall one house that closed back in 2008, when the market dipped for three short months, where my buyers got an incredible deal, and where the sellers were clearly pissed off, so they basically painted liquid butter all through the kitchen.

Yeah. Exaggerating, right?

Not so. The entire kitchen was covered in ants, and it was sticky from the floors, to the cabinets, to the walls. They had an exterminator in, who told them that there was “liquid food product” everywhere. We figured it was probably a bottle of Pam sprayed throughout, but either way, it was not a mistake.

While many of my clients will go out of their way to have their property cleaned before closing, it’s not something that’s in any way mandated, or even “understood.”

When it comes to closing a house or condo, if it’s not in writing, you shouldn’t expect it.

And thus the idea of what constitutes a legitimate complaint is risen.

I would say that probably half of all of my closings have some sort of very, very minor issue in the days leading up to, or shortly after, the closing. Both on the buy side, and sell side, and most issues are rectified.

But some issues, aren’t rectified, and shouldn’t be.

Some buyers, as I noted above, have absurd expectations, and I believe it should fall on the shoulders of their buyer-agent to speak up and say “you’re being ridiculous,” but we know most agents are merely yes-men.

Here’s an email that I received last December in relation to a condo listing I had:

Hi David,

Please forward to the Seller for the followings minor issues:

1). Balcony and its windows is quite dirty as attached pic shown, needs cleaning.

2). Master ensuit shower end cap is faulty not sealed, as pic attached.

3). Master ensuit vanity faucet’s top trim is broken , need to tighten, as video attached in separate email.

Thanks to coordinate.

–

The email contained two photos, and a video.

Here’s the “dirty windows” noted in the email:

Here’s the “faulty” shower-head:

And incredibly, here’s a video that the agent shot and emailed to me of the “broken” faucet:

youtube

I know, you’re thinking, “Did I really just spend 14 seconds watching somebody jiggle a faucet?”

So here’s the part where you might say, “David, these really are legitimate complaints.” Or you might say, “David, you’re in a service business, and you should strive to adhere to the standards of the buyer.”

I disagree.

Resale condominiums and houses are not sold in the same way as pre-construction condos.

With a pre-construction condo, the buyer does what’s called a “Pre-Delivery Inspection,” or PDI. In that inspection, the buyer outlines any and all issues with the property which should, in theory (I won’t get started on how TARION plays middle-man between the developer and the buyer, and nothing ever gets fixed), be rectified before closing, as is that buyer’s right.

But with a resale condo, you don’t have that right. You don’t have that same PDI.

The dirty balcony? That’s a shame. The box and the bag were removed, but the seller doesn’t have to clean common elements, especially if it’s not written into Schedule A of the Agreement of Purchase & Sale.

The shower-head? It’s in the exact same condition that it was when the buyer saw the condo, and if they wanted it fixed, they could have written a clause to that effect. They could have included a condition on inspection, but they didn’t.

The faucet? It “jiggles” a bit, I know.

But keep in mind, this is a resale condo! This condo will not be delivered in perfect shape!

A “legitimate” complaint on closing is not something petty, and it is, above all, not something that wasn’t in the Agreement of Purchase & Sale.

In the example above, forget about the fact that the “jiggly faucet” can be fixed by tightening one screw. Think about the mindset of the buyer who thinks this is an “issue.” Worse, is when the buyer brings this up to their lawyer, and their lawyer contacts the seller’s lawyer.

Another condo I closed late last year came with two “complaints” from the buyer-agent, and these were just off the hook.

The first one was this:

What is it, you ask?

What could be the “complaint?”

That missing 2-inch piece of quarter-round, wedged between the shower and the cabinet. I don’t know how somebody even noticed that, unless they tripped on the bath mat, and found themselves staring at the floor.

The second “complaint” is by far, the single-worst complaint I have ever received.

Folks, this one is just absurd.

A picture paints a thousand words, so let me demonstrate:

Yes. You’re seeing that correctly.

That, is a very small hole in the wall from a nail.

And that is a photo of the small nail-hole, taken by the buyer-agent, and sent to me (along with the photo of the missing 2-inch piece of quarter-round), with the subject line “Problems In Condo.”

But I’ve saved the best part for last. This wasn’t the sale of a condo. It was a LEASE!

Imagine the tenants who took issue with the nail-hole?

Folks, if there’s one thing I pride myself upon while working in this business, it’s never blowing up.

Tensions run high, as do emotions, and with varying levels of success and failure – often unpredictable, many agents in this business will do and say things that they shouldn’t.

I don’t blow up. You might think I do, based on how I write on this blog, but everything I say on here is calculated. Writing a blog is completely one-sided, don’t forget, so I can take my time and think things through, with nobody to rattle my cage.

When it comes to how I interact with other agents, I always ask myself, “After I click ‘send,’ or hang up the phone, will I regret what I’ve said?” I slow things down in my mind, and evaluate the consequences.

So when I received the photo of the quarter-round and nail-hole, I sat down, and patiently sent the following email:

Hi (Name),

I’m honestly not sure what you expect the outcome would be from this.

Your clients are tenants; this is not a pre-delivery inspection for a pre-construction condominium buyer.

A 3mm nail-hole in the wall?

A 2-inch piece of missing quarter-round?

Please tell me they do not seriously expect these items to be “fixed”?

This is one of the cleanest, best looked-after rental properties you’ll ever find.

I don’t know if I’ve ever seen something so petty in my 14 years in this business as a tenant asking for a 3-mm nail hole in the wall to be fixed. I do believe this is a new low-point for me.

David.

–

Naturally, the agent replied and said it was her client’s fault, and she didn’t want to send the email.

Remember what I said about expectations?

If you are a true “professional” in this business, and your client says, “I don’t like that there’s a nail-hole in the wall. I want you to take a photo, send it to the listing agent, and get the owner to fix it,” then you should have the knowledge, experience, confidence, and guts to say, “That’s ridiculous,” and explain why.

But many agents don’t. And it’s why we get photos of nail holes before closing.

I have other stories, and other examples, but these ones were recent – and had photos!

So what does constitute a legitimate complaint before closing? Anything contrary to the terms of the Agreement of Purchase & Sale.

Many sellers, as I mentioned, will hire a cleaner to come in before closing, out of pocket. But there’s no guarantee. If you want a guarantee, then put a clause in your offer.

If you want the giant hole in the wall from the removal of the television wall-mount to be repaired, then put a clause in your offer. While many people think the hole “should” be patched, there’s only one way to make certain it will be!

If you have a “chattels and fixtures in good working order” clause in your Agreement, and you find that the fridge doesn’t work upon closing, then you have a legitimate complaint.

If there is a set of old winter tires sitting in the living room, and they weren’t included in the “Chattels” section of the Agreement, then you have a legitimate complaint.

If the condo maintenance fees in the offer specified they were $561.80 per month, and you find out they were actually $661.80 per month, oh boy – do you have a legitimate complaint. I’d ask why this wasn’t caught by your lawyer, but that’s besides the point.

The biggest source of, and reason for, petty pre-closing complaints – like nail-holes, dirty windows, and jiggly faucets, is that the buyers’ expectations are too high. It just shows a lack of common sense, and perhaps that can’t be taught.

Or maybe I’m wrong, and we should all expect perfection.

If society in 2018 is any indication, it seems that perfection is indeed, everybody’s expectation…

The post What Constitutes A “Legitimate” Complaint Upon Closing? appeared first on Toronto Real Estate Property Sales & Investments | Toronto Realty Blog by David Fleming.

Originated from http://ift.tt/2mLjDhG

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thegreenhunt · 7 years

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Chapter 2

The brothers made their way through the dark, snow covered streets of Crestfall, occasionally ducking into allies to evade the patrols of the guards who would surely be on alert after the incident in the lower business district. Although those guards were payed to take a while to reach there location they were not payed to keep their mouths shut. It didn’t matter much to the brothers however, because Eony studied the patrol sheets that the guild had obtained off a rather “charitable” guard, and had a knack for remembering details. Eventually the brothers finally reached their destination, the drunken crow. On the outside it looked like a regular tavern in the slums of Crestfall, but really it was a primary access point of the thrives guild known as The Pack. Before walking in Eony looked at his bear and whistled, the bear lumbered off into the ally behind the tavern.

The brothers entered the mostly empty bar, since the bar wasn’t to well known most of its tenets were either members of the guild, or someone looking to hire them, tonight it looked like everyone had decided to call it an early night. It was only midnight but the bar was nearly empty. Maybe it was the run down look on the outside, or the run down look on the inside that kept people out, but hey that’s why the pack chose this place for the hideout. The brothers made their way to the counter to speak to the man who was currently cleaning some glasses. The man was the trusty gate keeper of the entrance to the hideout, but many patrons knew him by his normal name, Dirk Fencen. Dirk was an average size dwarf maybe in the latter years of his life, but still looked like he could take anyone in a fight. He would tell that to your face too while he was knocking some teeth down your throat, on more than one occasion Eony and Oris saw him do it. “Oy what can I get you boys tonight” Dirk said with a grin coming across his face. “Your tallest mug of ale for me and my brother here! It’s time to celebrate a good night” Eony said in a celebratory fashion. Oris gave him a nudge and a glance. “Oh alright” Eony said reluctantly. He then said while leaning on the counter “we heard you have had a bit of a rat problem recently” "Aye, we do, have a solution" Dirk said with a stare that looked like he was staring into your soul. “Simple, lure it with some food, than chop the head off” Oris said from behind his face mask with a cold voice. Dirk chuckled then signaled the bar maid to come to the counter. “Good to see you guys, when you come back up I’ll have that ale ready for you, and good to hear you haven’t lost your voice Blade.” He said with a large grin. The bar maid escorted the brothers to a locked room in the back of the bar, after she opened it the brothers maid there way in. To the normal eye it would be just another storage room, but to a member of the pack it was a gateway to their sanctuary. They made their way to a wall sconce in the back of the room and Oris pulled it like a lever, suddenly the wall fell into the floor revealing a set of spiral stairs that led down into the. After weaving through the various tunnels that were made to throw off people who were not suppose to be down here, the brothers finally reached their destination. A singular statue of a wolf stood sitting up proud with its chest puffed out, it bared it’s and looked like it was ready to strike at any moment. They approached the statue when suddenly the head of it came to life. The statue said with a growl “what makes us strong!”. Eony replied like he had done a thousand times before “our numbers and our brotherhood make us strong!” The head returned to stone and the wall began to turn revealing the path into the main chamber of the packs hide out. The main chamber was empty as usual, although Eony could hear the faint sounds of someone grunting in pain, no doubt Doc was hard at work this evening as she normally was. The main chamber was a large stone structure that branched off into four paths. One led to the armory, one led to the quarters, one led to the infirmary and lastly one led planning chamber. Their were other doors in the main chamber that had various uses but none were more important than the guilded door in the corner that the guild master known as The Shepard resided. They made their way to a corner of that door and proceeded to knock on it. The door swung open and their stood towering above them, the Goliath in heavy plate armor the guild masters muscle Brutus the Breaker. Brutus stood at about seven feet tall and looked like he could squash anyone like a bug. He had a gnarled scar that ran from the left side of his face under his eye to the right side of his face passing through his mouth. His great sword, that he lovingly called Skullsplitter, was clearly visible hanging off his back left shoulder. His plate armor armor was black and bore the crest of the pack on his chest, a singular wolf standing proud as multiple others gathered behind it. “Who is it Brutus?” Oris could hear the guild master call from behind the bohemith. “It’s the little elf brothers, should I let them in” he said in his broken common. Brutus was not the smartest person in the guild, but then again it didn’t matter to him, all of his problems could be solved with just one chop of his sword. “Oh Blade and Havoc? Yes, yes send them in I assume they have word on their latest assignment!” Shepards office was a monument to all he had accomplished, their were paintings that he had stole from castles, their were large luxurious furniture that looked like it belonged in a castle. Behind him was a gold replica of the same wolf statue that was at the entrance of the hideout. Lastly, on the wall to his right were his infamous black bladed daggers that he ran thousands of jobs with. Some say that the daggers could cut through any armor, some say that they were touched by the lord of death himself. Oris believed that it was probably both, all he knew for sure was he wanted to just wield them one day. In the middle of the room sat Shepard at his large oak wood gold trimmed desk. Shepard was a dark skinned human in his early forties. He had salt and pepper hair that was cut short, and wore a set of black leather armor. Some might call him paranoid but most would say he’s prepared. His eyes were as sharp as they come and could tell the amount of money you had by how low your coin purse hung. All in all he was a very impressive man. Once he knew the door was locked and secured he spoke to the brothers in his heavy accent that sounded like he grew up as a farmers child, “So Eony, Oris does our friend understand that we do not take kindly to people who don’t follow the contract.” The guild master was the only one who used the brothers name in normal conversation usually, probably because so few knew it. “Aye we did!” Eony said with a grin, “And we made sure he paid double for all the trouble he put us through!” “Now how the hell did you get that stingy bastard to pay you double?” he said with an eyebrow cocked in disbelief. “I through a dagger into his thigh and made sure he realized what we did to his guards” Oris said obviously very proud of himself. That got a chuckle out of the Goliath who was standing behind the brothers making sure no one tried to bust in during this conversation. “Oh now I definitely need to hear this whole story, sit down have a drink with me! Brutus can you get us some ale? Get yourself one of course, my treat!” “Oh and can you go let my bear in!? He’s at the back entrance, thanks!” Eony asked. “I’m doing it for the ale just to let you know” Brutus said scoffing at the other remedial request. Shepard motioned the brothers to take a seat in the nice furniture and looked at them like a proud father. “Oh and Oris you know you can take the face mask down now right?” He said. Oris hasn’t even noticed it was still up, he got so use to concealing his identity it almost felt unnatural to not have it on his face, never the less, he pulled it down. Eony went on in great detail about the whole job, from waiting, to the ambush, to the fight, to the walk back he truly enjoyed telling these stories. “Huh so a random Orc knew your code names huh? Y'all have been making some noise around here and I think it’s high time I let you in on more guild business.” Shepard said sitting up straighter signaling he was about to say something important. “We’ve got a new recruit, she’s a half elf Mage and she’s been with us for about two weeks now” he stated. “A Mage? No offense but that doesn’t scream their to me” Oris said quickly. “You’d be right if we were just a straight thieves guild but we like to branch out, that and doc says their is something special about her.” Shepard said before taking a drink of his ale. “I’m sticking her with Siren, the reason why I’m telling the both of you this is I think something big is coming up and I want the four of you and maybe a few others to spear head this operation, you all are extremely talented and are rising through the ranks so I’m putting my faith in you.” He said with a sort of satisfaction. “Again, one of the four is new though, that and sticking her with Siren seems like a strange choice.” Eony said matter of factly. “True” Shepard said staring into his mug. “But not to long ago people were saying that about you two, now look at ya, sure it took a while but a lot of that was training, I share the same feeling as doc about this girl, I think she will do big things. Also don’t worry about Siren, she’s taken to her very nicely I think she appreciates having someone watching her back in the field again.” Shepard said now leaning back in his chair. He continued on “We’ve all watched her closely since the incident two months ago, I can confirm now that she was not involved in it and she does not feel remorse for what she did to Rat.” The incident he was referring too was when sirens old partner Rat decided to steal Shepards daggers and try to offer them and valuable info on the guild to the rival guild the Frost Fangs. Siren caught him after she started noticing him acting strange and when she stumbled upon a coded note that promised him access to the guild and protection if he brought them the daggers and the info they desired. The night he tried to do it however, Siren killed him and brought fourth all the evidence. Since then some of the guild members believed that she might have been in on it, but she was a good friend of the brothers and neither of them believed those rumors. "I’m surprised we haven’t seen the new one yet honestly, but then again we did go on that job that ended up with us tailing the target through the forest for a week" Eony said. “God that was frustrating, guy was lucky I just broke his leg, but that’s what happens when you run from your contract.” Oris replied taking a heavy gulp of his ale. “They returned from a job not to long before you two so they may still be here.” Shepard said reassuringly. “Anyways I need to get back to planning so you two will receive your payment when the money gets to us, however I did leave a little present for the both of you corner of the quarters, consider it a congratulations on the work you’ve done recently.” Shepard said taking the rest of his drink in one gulp. “Thank you sir!” Both the brothers said simultaneously as they stood up and walked out the door. When Brutus shut the door he turned to Shepard and said “are you sure about those two boss? You sure you don’t want more… Experienced people running that job” Brutus said almost sounding concerned. Shepard replied with “yes, from what I’ve seen they have potential and so do the other two, we just need to see what all this job will entail, and be sure they are loyal to the Pack. I have faith; they will not let us down.” Shepard said looking through his various papers scattered across his desk. He then said grimly “If not, well then we are all fucked"

#dnd #D&D #pathfinder #oc #story #campaign #rogue #assassin #ranger #beastmaster

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theguardian911 · 7 years

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More Pet Owners Are Seeking Natural, Non-GMO Pet Foods By Dr. Becker In the U.S., almost all pet owners (95 percent) consider their pets to be part of the family, and rightly so! This is up 7 percent from 2007, according to the Harris Poll,1 and trends indicate that Americans are increasingly looking for ways to give their pets the longest, happiest lives possible. Pet food is the area of biggest spending for most parents, taking up 76 percent of the pet care category. The Humanization of Pet Food report released by Nielsen has also revealed some promising trends in this area, as Americans increasingly look for healthier treats, specialty pet foods and other premium options. Further, people are moving beyond expectations of "high-quality" food towards "humanized" food. The Nielsen report explained:2 " … [T]hey desire pet food options that address the same health concerns currently influencing human food production, such as unnatural preservatives and genetically modified ingredients — and they're serious about these preferences." I'm annoyed our demands for better-quality commercially available pet food have been deemed the "humanization" of a dirty industry that should have been called to higher standards years ago. It's frustrating that last July at The Association of American Feed Control Officials (AAFCO) meeting, an industry representative stood up and said it was absurd to hold pet food to human food standards, that the "humanization of pets" has not been good for the pet food industry, as if all of life, aside from humans, aren't worthy of clean, whole, and free-of-chemical food. Wake up, AAFCO! This isn't the "humanization of pet food," this is an entire generation of pet owners demanding transparency from the industry. Let's be clear here: we aren't anthropomorphizing. We want edible, untainted, healthful, and free-of-chemical food that's clearly labeled as such so we know exactly what we're buying. For us. For our pets. Pet Owners Are Seeking Natural, Non-GMO Pet Foods Pet owners are increasingly demanding better-quality food for their pets, and if history is any indication, these positive trends may force some pet food makers to clean up their acts. Among health claims on pet foods, those boasting no genetically modified organisms (GMOs) were most sought after. About 43 percent of pet owners indicated they'd pay more for non-GMO pet products. Further, while consumers once flocked to pet foods that were supposedly backed by "science" (many products of which are disasters for your pet's health), they're now looking for natural products. According to Petfood Industry:3 "While consumers once trusted science to deliver the magic mix of vital nutrients for their pets, they're putting more faith in nature these days. Just as with their own food choices, consumers increasingly prefer pet foods made in a kitchen over those made in a lab." Also of note, the Nielsen report revealed that 85 percent of pet owners believe — correctly — that their pets can live longer if they feed them the right foods. In response, many are seeking healthier pet treats in lieu of what are perceived to be more "indulgent" options. Many pet owners are also interested in fruit and vegetable chews and foods that come in soup and stew form (as opposed to the factory-made "mush" or kibble that's long been the norm). While I have concerns many well-intentioned pet parents still end up being duped by advertising claims of what "natural," "all-natural" and "made with natural ingredients" really means, I still feel it's a step in the right direction. People in general are trying to make better health and diet choices for the animals they care for. The industry is starting to feel some long-overdue pressure. Pets Need to Eat Real Food Too You're probably aware of the importance of eating real foods — grass-fed meats, vegetables, fruits and the like. The same holds true for your pets, and by this definition, we should all be thankful for this trend for more "humanized" pet foods. Your pet doesn't need to eat a mash-up of meat byproducts, moldy grains, synthetics vitamins, fillers and chemical additives pressed into bite-size pieces (via toxic processing techniques) or dumped into a can. Your pet needs real, fresh, and unadulterated food, just like you do. The first can of "pet food" entered the marketplace roughly 100 years ago. Prior to that dogs and cats hunted themselves, scavenged, or relied on kind humans who shared their scraps. A farm dog's diet would be supplemented with what she could find, including litters of baby bunnies, berries, grass, seeds, nuts, poop, carrion (dead things) and a variety of other plants, along with whatever she hunted or was lucky enough to scavenge (including things like placenta from a recent birth, hooves from a recently trimmed horse, etc). Barn cats also controlled vermin populations on the farm well before "cat food" entered the market about 100 years ago. These cats took their jobs very seriously and led active lives, patrolling barns and ridding store houses of mice, moles, voles and other small prey. They fed themselves fresh food daily, but were also thankful for a saucer of fresh cow's milk the farmer regularly offered them, as well as food scraps put out for them on occasion. As our lives became busier and busier, we sought more convenient options for nourishing ourselves, and this "food on the go" concept was extended to pets, in the form of pre-packaged, "scoop and dump" pellets. After all, it was annoying the farm dog hunted his own food now and then; having a ready-to-feed pelleted food to offer dogs and cats would be so easy. Making healthful meals took time, money and energy. How nice would it be to not have our pets hunt, but also not be responsible for making food for them. And the pet food industry was born. Although "pet food" was introduced as an added convenience for the busy adult (and a great place to recycle human food waste into pet feed), it came with a hefty price tag in terms of animal health. Animals were meant to eat fresh food. But fresh food was, and is, not convenient. When we transitioned companion animals onto a ration of 100 percent processed canned and dried food, some interesting things started to happen. In the last 100 years, we've seen the dog and cat cancer rate soar; 1 in 3 cats will die of cancer, 1 in 2 dogs. We've seen the incidence of obesity and diabetes skyrocket. As a practicing vet, I see dogs with such horrific allergies they pull skin of their bodies; it's enough to stop and say to yourself, "I understand how we got here, but how do we undo what we've done?" The best way to heal your pet's body is with food. Whole, fresh, organic, and unadulterated food (like what they were eating prior to being duped into thinking we had to buy "pet food"). To mimic an ancestral diet, the absolute healthiest food for your pet is a nutritionally balanced, raw, or gently cooked diet that you make at home. Please understand that you can't simply "wing it" when it comes to making homemade pet food (an unbalanced homemade diet can be deadly to your pet, or at best make chronic health issues worse). That being said, if you're willing to learn how to do it right, making homemade pet food is something most pet owners can accomplish — and many come to enjoy. For more details, check out my interview with Pol Sandro-Yepes, a passionate pet lover who enjoys making his own homemade dog food (below). You can find recipes for an ancestrally balanced, homemade raw diet in the cookbook I co-authored, "Real Food for Healthy Dogs and Cats." What Are the Best Store-Bought Pet Foods? If you don't want to deal with balancing diets at home, choosing to feed pre-balanced, commercially available raw food, is a great choice. There are many small, amazing pet food companies now offering human-grade, organic, and free-range frozen foods that can be fed raw or gently cooked. A freeze-dried/dehydrated diet is also good (although less so than fresh). Human-grade canned food is a mid-range choice, but hard to find, followed by premium canned food. Dry foods, even higher-quality human-grade varieties, are less recommended because they are not biologically appropriate for dogs or cats. In the video below you can see my updated list of the best and worst foods to feed your pet. If you're at all unclear about what's healthy and what's not for your pet, this is the video to watch. The basic goal is to choose foods that will most closely mimic your dog or cat's carnivorous ancestral diet. Start by making even slight changes to your pet's diet, for instance feeding him whole foods for treats. Berries and fresh cubed meats are an excellent choice. You can also offer small amounts — no more than one-eighth-inch square for a cat or small dog and a one-quarter-inch square for bigger dogs — of other fruits (melons and apples, for example), as well as raw cheese. Many cats enjoy bits of zucchini or cantaloupe. You can also try offering some sardines packed in water, free-range quail or rabbit meat to your cat. Other treat options for dogs include cubed liver or heart, fresh or frozen peas and raw almonds, cashews, and Brazil nuts (but NEVER macadamia nuts). By feeding your pet healthier treats and moving your way up to a healthier overall diet as well, you can significantly improve his health and, likely, his lifespan. The good news is that many pet owners are moving this way already, and hopefully more pet-food manufacturers will follow suit by offering more high-quality, human-grade, and non-GMO real-food options for pets.

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