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liltaz-asatreat · 2 years

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oooh i know you briefly mentioned this a few days ago (i think? time is fake and also soupy) but i would really like to hear about the whole Julia and Leon dynamic going on in the julia survives raven's roost au!!!

Okay, so in the inception of the idea of Julia and Leon being friends, I, at first, wanted to make a character sheet for Julia, so the dice can help me tell the story a little bit like they would in a real dnd campaign, and it got me thinking about what class I should make her. And I figured I could just make her a fighter because that's probably what her class would most likely be considering her background of a craftsman's daughter and helping with a revolution. Magnus probably taught her how to use weapons if she didn't know already. But I was like, I don't want her to be basically Magnus 2.0 and just being a fighter alone didn't really seem the way to go, and I thought she might be more interested in crafting, so the obvious solution was artificing. I don't think she would have learned artificing at Raven's Roost though because Steven wasn't an artificer, and I don't think she would have felt the need to learn anything about magic in the past. But I got really hooked on the artificer idea, so I figured I could have her multiclass, and to do that, she would have to train under someone (Leon), but that would need an inciting incident. Also, she would need a 13 in intelligence to multiclass, and I gave her basically Magnus' starting stats except I switched the Charisma and Intelligence scores, so that it would only take two times of getting more stat points to get rid of her negative in Wisdom and get her up to the 13 in Intelligence which so happens to happen at 6th level for Fighters. Lining up perfectly with Petals to the Metal. And what happens in Petals to the Metal? They meet Sloane and Hurley and learn Sloane is a good person who just got taken over by the sash to the point where (presumably) they both died as a result of that fiasco. Perfect jumping off point to get her interested in learning more about how artifacts are made, and, well, I'll put what I have written for that scene under the cut :)

(Also background info, I kept the concept that only the people who made the Relics would be able to actually resist them, so Julia is also somewhat looking for a way to keep herself better resistant to them in any way that she can without staying like, a hundred feet away from them and clenching Magnus' hand when they collect them. Also also, I'm having fun imagining the scene directly after they come back from Wonderland because I want Leon to be there for her too as part of the welcoming party, and I don't have a solid vision yet of what that's going to look like, but basically I'm going to make them best friends :) )

The Reclaimers' last mission left Julia more shaken than she was when she, Magnus, and the other boys first encountered the Phoenix Fire Gauntlet. It's been a little over a week since they recovered the Gaia Sash, and in that time, she did a lot of reflecting on the events that transpired. The way the Sash completely took Sloane over and the sheer, hopeless power it had when it did was terrifying. There was no way they were going to win that fight without Hurley sacrificing herself in doing... whatever she did. It's still not clear to Julia what had happened when Hurley rushed in, but it still left her dying in Sloane's arms all the same. It's too much, Julia can't let that happen again. She refuses.

But what if when they go to collect the other Relics, they will also be actively being wielded by other people? And Taako, who up until now was able to resist the thrall they had, even he almost put on the Gaia Sash. What if that happens again? What if they all succumb to the next one? Or the one after that? Or the last one they have to collect? What then?

Julia needs answers. She needs to know how the Relics work, and maybe in knowing that, she'll be able to figure out a way to work around them. It hasn't happened yet with the people who have already been studying them, but maybe a fresh set of eyes will do the trick?

Unfortunately, because of the nature of the history of the Relics, there isn't much information on them that she doesn't already know, so that's a dead end. But they're magic items, and they had to be crafted as such like any other magic item, right? And she does know an artificer she can turn to for help. The only question is whether her little group has annoyed him enough that he will be too reluctant to help her out.

It's early afternoon when Julia decides to make the trip. Magnus and the other boys are off somewhere, Julia didn't pay particular attention to where Magnus said they were going, so she's got a fairly large window of time to herself before they come back for a group dinner. As she reaches the door to Leon's workshop, she pauses with her hand on the door handle and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. She opens the door and steps through, and Leon looks up from his desk. As soon as he sees her, his expression turns sour.

“Gods, why? It's been a week! You can't have gone on another mission already! Where's your husband? Where's your friends?” Leon stands up from his chair and rounds the corner of his desk to meet her.

Julia winces and puts her hands up placatingly. “It's just me this time, Leon. Um, I don't have any more gashapon tokens. I actually came here to talk to you.”

Leon eyes her suspiciously with his arms crossed. “It's not to antagonize me, is it?”

Julia laughs nervously. “Uh, no. I um... I was actually wondering–” She takes a deep breath. “– I was wondering if you could teach me about artificing?”

Leon looks taken aback. “You want me to– okay. What uh– what exactly is it that you want to know? Artificing is a very broad subject, so you're going to have to be more specific.”

Julia taps her pointer fingers together nervously. “Well, I suppose I– I want to know how magic items work. Like, how are they made and what properties are they supposed to have. And I guess from there, how they could be made to be more powerful and corrupted.”

Leon looks at her sympathetically and uncrosses his arms. “You want to know how something like the Grand Relics could have been made?”

Julia nods. “I... I want to know how we can fight them smarter,” she says quietly. “The last mission... It was hard, and I'm afraid it's only going to get harder, and I need to know how we can avoid more casualties.”

Leon sighs before walking to the other side of the room. He pulls out a chair by the wall and carries it to the front of his desk before gesturing for her to sit and taking a seat himself behind the desk. Julia sits down and bounces her leg up and down nervously. Leon clasps his hands together and set them on the table. “The way making magic items works– well, there are two ways. There's the less permanent way where you can infuse mundane objects with magic to give them a magical property or the ability to cast a spell, and that can easily be changed or taken away again. The other way, the way the Relics and a lot of the items you'll find in the Gashapon Machine or at Fantasy Costco are made, ispermanent. To make something like that, you would need to gather specific materials capable of resonating more deeply with the magic you want to bake into it to make the items from scratch, and it's in the process of making the items that you would imbue magic into it.”

Julia furrows an eyebrow and slips the Alchemist's Ring from her middle finger. “You mean like this Alchemist's Ring had magic imbued in it as the ring itself was being made?”

Leon nods. “Exactly. And the more powerful the item is, the more care in picking the right materials and making it needs to go into it or else it could go horribly wrong. Because of the amount of magic items there are in the world, even though most of them are comparatively weak, people tend to think artificing is an easy area to get into, but artificing can be dangerous, and if it's not done to an exact science, at best, the thing you're making won't work, at worst, it could hurt or even kill the people who made it or use it.”

Julia's mouth goes dry as she slips the ring back on her finger and rests her hands on the table. “Do you think that's what happened to the Relics? The Red Robes tried to make things that were way to powerful without being careful enough, and now they're world ending weapons that take over their wielder?”

Leon's face goes a bit grim. “As much as I would love to think that the Relics were an accident, I don't think I can fully get behind that theory. The– The Relics...” He shakes his head. “Maybe I'm biased because all I've seen them do is destroy, but the Relics' powers seem like they were made with purpose without caring for the collateral damage they would cause. I can see the gauntlet being an accident if all they wanted to do was make a somewhat standard weapon, but the others we've collected so far– the Oculus with the power to create anything and the Gaia Sash with the power to control all of nature– their powers are so broad over the domains they were created for, it could only have been done with the purpose of giving them that much power. Power for power's sake, if you will. And the fact that they not only have that much power, but they actively seek to overtake the will of anyone who comes near them, that can only be done with a precise science behind that. And if this is how they are as a product of precision, I'd shudder to think of what would have happened if they were made incorrectly.”

Julia shivers at the grave tone Leon adopted for his last sentence. She can't imagine what could be worse than the Relics as they are now. “I just can't fathom why someone would make things like that on purpose. I get experimenting around and trying new things, but if they made them specifically to be used by whoever comes across them... it just doesn't make sense, Leon.”

Leon pats her hand and gives her a small smile. “I don't think it's supposed to make sense to people like us. If it did, we probably wouldn't be here trying to do our part to save the world.”

Julia sighs. “I suppose you're right.” She bites her lip and jiggles her leg again. “There's got to be a better way of trying to combat them when me and the boys go to collect them though at least, right? The Director said they're all made for different specific schools of magic, so is there a way to create something that might dampen it a little or do anything to help us if we have to fight someone who's under its thrall again?”

Leon tilts his head in thought for a second. “I'm not too sure of something that could be made to dampen the effects of the Relic's power directly, but...” He pauses to think some more. “To take over someone's will, that falls under enchantment magic, so all of them must have that baked into them as well. I don't think I can make something quite strong enough to cancel out the thrall completely, the Relics are just too powerful, but since you and the boys are already somewhat resistant to their power for what ever reason, I think I might be able to make something that can dampen enchantment magic in general. That should make it easier to collect them without you all losing your heads.”

Julia smiles with relief. If something like that is possible to make and he can make multiple of them, that could give her room to breathe and the others fuller immunity. That would be a dream come true for her. “Thank you, Leon!”

He tilts his in a slight nod and smiles. Then he frowns. “Oh, shoot. I forgot that we can't give each other magic items.”

Julia's heart sinks. “I'm sure the Director won't mind if it's for something like this, right?”

“I suppose.” Leon looks contemplative again. Then his eyes brighten, and he snaps. “Right! I can't give you magic items, but if you were to create it with my help– that is, if you want to learn artificing?”

Julia perks up at that. “Uh, yes? That would be amazing!”

“Great! I can start you off with learning the basics, just making simple stuff, and we can work our way up to that big project. I should have an extra pair of some kind of artisan's tools somewhere.” Leon mutters the last part and starts going through his desk.

“Can you make magic items with wood? I'm good at carpentry, and I already have the tools for that on me.” Julia says.

Leon sits back up with a wide smile. “Yes! That's really good to hear. I can start you off on some wood projects and then go from there. We may have to graduate to smith's tools eventually to make the enchantment resistance item, but–”

Julia laughs. “Good news! I'm proficient in that as well! My dad was a general craftsman who specialized in carpentry, but he taught me how to craft with a few different mediums. I just don't know magic, and I didn't get to keep any smith's tools with me. I just know how to use them.”

“Well, I'm sure I can find you some new smith's tools in time. So–” He sticks out his hand across the desk. “–when do you want to start?”

Julia takes his hand and shakes it firmly. “I'm free right now until seven.”

#Thank you for sending this in!! :)#ask game #written works of Gab #Julia Burnsides vs Canon Lore

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twincovesgame · 3 years

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i am currently in Immense Pain after a full wisdom tooth extraction, so how would the ROs treat MC after a similar surgery? Who would provide over-the-top care, who would record them the entire ride home, who would play a prank ("you've been in a coma for 3 years!"), etc.

Probably a little of this:

https://twincovesgame.tumblr.com/post/637595629402652672/i-cant-remember-if-youve-answered-this-since-the#notes

With a dash of this:

https://twincovesgame.tumblr.com/post/640881857727217664/so-i-saw-this-ask-on-some-other-blog-and-i-just

I hope you feel better! Getting your wisdom teeth removed is not fun. Eat plenty of soup! Or the soupy food of your choice 😊

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roastedsoup · 1 year

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for revenge three frank chemical cheers my demolition iero lovers sweet mcr romance - sticker. if you even care.

#mcr #soupy wisdom #help

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allsadnshit · 4 years

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seeking recipes and advice for making congee at home! mine is never as soupy as i want it and the kind i like is less yellow? should i be using a certain stock??? pls don't respond to this if you aren't asian i'm looking for home recipes and wisdom from the community if possible ❤️

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jaquandor · 4 years

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Burlesque star Dita Von Teese.

I knew nothing about Ms. Von Teese at all until recently, when I was looking for a few quotes about pies in the face, and I discovered that she is herself a fan. I listened to a couple of podcast interviews with her (on Out to Lunch with Jay Rayner and The Sex Ed), and I pulled the following nuggets of pie-related wisdom from them:

It's [getting a pie in the face] one of the most liberating things you can do, and I highly recommend it. It's incredible. It's exhilarating! If you're too afraid of doing psychedelics, just take a big ole expensive banana or coconut cream pie in the face, and that is a little bit what it's like!...We're talking a pastry shell--not like a Soupy Sales "pie" where you take whipped cream and just put it in an empty tin. You have to have a big, significant pie that's got some girth to it with real bananas and the real thing, because otherwise it's not effective.

And:

You know, you haven't really lived until you've had a pie in the face. You think you're ready for it, but you're really not! You're never gonna be ready for it. And actually a few years later, because I remembered that feeling of having a big, expensive cream pie thrown in your face...I haven't laughed that hard since I was on LSD or something, like, ten years before!...and then a few years later, when I was getting a divorce, I was having a really bad day and I had just moved into my new little house and was not very happy and was sad and I had no furniture...and I had this idea, why don't I just invite my friends over and everyone's gonna take a pie in the face? Because nothing will make me feel better than that right now! So I did! I went to Marie Callender's and I ordered a few hundred dollars' worth of pies, and my friends all came over and made outfits out of trash bags, and I made everyone team up and take a pie in the face from their best friend. And it was legendary! It took me forever to get all the pie off the ceilings and everything, but I suggest everyone try taking a pie in the face.

These quotes make me happy. Everyone should try taking a pie in the face! It’s a wonderful thing!

#dita von teese #pie in the face

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rametarin · 4 years

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A blast from the past.

Re-experienced some old frustration (close to trauma, but not quite) from my youth.

I’ve mentioned before how when I was a 4 year old, I had Baby Radfems trying to convince me that men were all rapists, white people were inherently evil, and were coaxed and script-fed by their radfem aunts and big sisters into doing that to boys like me.

They found kids who had no experiences with social politics or social justice one way or another and fed us a technically true, but cherrypicked and slanted view of history, used enough negative space to imply things and have us draw our own conclusions (because if you just tell people juuuust enough of the truth but force them to make assumptions to fill in the information, the most logical course, you can’t be held accountable for their errant convenient conclusuons. :^) ) and then expected us to act and feel and accept what they said as THE truth. Or, argue with them why we didn’t agree or thought something specific that disagreed with them.

Well tonight I got a taste of that. The academic, coached, “I am le intellectual debator.” I was talking to another person about my experiences talking with people A.) that believed in or claimed to be part of BLM or similar causes. B.) That were intersectional feminists. C.) That there was actually nnoooooo ulterior motives and that BLM was purely based on wacial equawity uwu.

The nature of these people is they deliberately keep their rhetoric as oral as possible, outside professional academic settings. And they do that specifically so when you go to point out what you’ve experienced and learned from exposure to them, you have nothing to share. Then they give you the innocent eyes and go, “Do you have any proof that this is what they believe? :3 :3 :3 :3″ And, if you don’t happen to have a list of their literature and books on your desk, or if the big word-soup of what they put in them doesn’t match up with the way you paraphrase and interpret what you’ve seen by how they use it, they disregard what you have to say as lies or smears or ignorance and immediately reject it all. Aggressively.

They feign not knowing and being open to discussion, but all they’re doing is seeing how deep the rabbithole you can go to prove what you’re saying to them. Which is exactly why radical feminists did that shit and left as few breadcrumbs that could be remembered or traced back to their literature, unless you were down with their beliefs, as possible.

And, to add to it, there’s an element of gaslighting and public performance to it. They aren’t just trying to engage in discussion on good faith, they’re trying to make a show about disregarding anything you say as a “misrepresentation of what they believe,” when the people in the literature deliberately paint their beliefs in as neutral, word-soupy, academic jargon as possible to give them maximum benefit of the doubt and interpretation as possible, while if you try to explain how they use it and how they teach it, you come up unable to prove it.

Because there’s just no way to squeeze sitting in a class with a radical professor or every argument you’ve ever had with an impassioned and inflammatory radical feminist or intersectional feminist, and they do not accept anecdotes as valid experiences to prove what you are saying. They haughtily imply anything you say that isn’t black and white, clear cut proof from the academic’s own mouth of their beliefs, goals and intentions with no strain or effort to interpret on their part, is just a smear campaign.

You can’t show them what you’ve experienced, seen, heard. You can’t convey the snide, sneering, hateful things they say and the cold way they brush you off or snip at you. Cordial or genteel conversations that turn into someone treating you like shit because they have problems with men or white people rooted in their own bias and/or the shit that a semester of radical literature paints in their personalities.

So they mock you for, “having unknowable mystical wisdom,” knowing full well the thing you are trying to convey was DESIGNED FROM THE PSYCHOLOGICAL POINT of not being shown or understood without being able to interpret it from a frame of refernece and experience, and refusing to comprehend it, or not having personal experience with it, makes it impossible to interpret. Someone feigning ignorance and honesty can simply play Le Super Rationale Debator and flop on the floor like a two year old, demanding to be carried.

So you can try to explain the Duluth Model, but unless you have WHERE IT IS IN WRITING, they’ll simply ignore it like it’s a conspiracy theory. If you don’t happen to have the textbooks the cool kids learn the sort of Privilege Theory that gets BLM kids to start screaming about how being white and male “gives you overwhelming privilege,” and the group expectation you should be disallowed to even converse but expected to listen, they’ll disregard it as an uncharitable lie told to smear them.

And they’ll know full fucking well they’re being dishonest and playing being impartial. Knowing full fucking well what they’re doing is tantamount to gaslighting. But I suppose mindfucks when they’re, “for the greater good,” are okay.

I need to find more people that can cite pages and authors and years. These kinds of fuckheads are impossible, unless you can fucking obliterate them and any pretend objection they have to it.

It’s lucky that trying this shit around the people I know, whom all have had experiences of their own with what this group’s modus operandi really is, bugger what their textbooks say, was like a school headmaster trying to remind the children that their sexual assault never happened because there’s no physical evidence anything took place. But it brought to mind the aggressive, cold, patronizing, insulting, predatory sensation I remember as a kid when I couldn’t read and was forced on the spot to argue about statistics about male-on-female rape, and by extension, how unless I could disprove their big perfect professional academic book of Le Logic And Proof, I must have just been stupid or emotional.

I still don’t have all the pieces. I wish I knew the exact books my abusers were reading from to treat me like that when I was between 4 and 6. And I wish I knew where exactly these fucking radical bitches got their techniques on how to argue so dishonestly, because it consistently happened. And it felt like being ambushed, each time. I learned to identify it, but I don’t intellectually know the names for it or how it worked.

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frenchy-and-the-sea · 4 years

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OC Kiss Week 20 - Wisdom Save

Welcome to kiss week, everyone!

Once upon a time, my drunken master monk Zephyr lost a wisdom save to a horny hot tub in a couple’s suite she accidentally paid for, and came to the stunning, magically induced realization that her traveling companions are both incredibly hot. She handled it with her usual amount of tact and grace; which is to say, none. This is about that time.

Featuring @kombits‘s Fàilbhe, @colonelcupquake‘s Mira and, briefly, @psychopomp-pan’s Hambone, which is a name I had to write seriously. I fear no god or man now.

About 1800 words.

-----

The water is too warm.

Zephyr should hate it, by all accounts. She is a creature of air after all, built for the frigid thinness of open sky; the bath that she is currently sunk into sits in a low, steaming fog of its own making, heavy with a heat that she can feel clinging to her bare neck. By all accounts, she ought to crawl out, march down the stairs again, haggle the deaf old witch at the counter back out of her five gold for an inn room that isn’t boiling over.

Except.

Except that she is tired. Except that she's spent the last two days on her feet, collecting an entire forest's worth of grime on her skin, in her hair. Except that the weight of the news they’ve been delivered is nearly the physical sort, a stone lashed to her ankle, and she is aching from every inch of her throbbing feet already. Floating of any kind, even in this soupy bathwater heat, feels too nice to give up just yet.

Beside her, Fàilbhe crouches on the edge of the sunken stone basin, peering down at the water like it has set up a particularly difficult problem for him to solve. He catches her eye at the corner of his own and nods down at the bath.

Is it okay?

She doesn't know how she understands exactly, but the meaning of his little nod is clear enough. She shrugs. "S'fine."

He nods again, but his eyes narrow, still skeptical. Sidelong, Zephyr can see a host of other emotions crowding in them too; confusion, interest, a strange, quiet something that turns his eyes the color of leaves in shade. They're very nice eyes, she thinks suddenly; strange and goat-like, yes, but beautifully, brilliantly green. Her chest flutters with a pleasant little warmth.

“It doesn’t bite, you know,” a voice from across the bath says. She and Fàilbhe turn at the same time towards the other figure sunk shoulders-deep in the water with her. Hambone drapes an arm over the edge of the tub and grins. “The water, I mean. Come on Fàilbhe, it’s a bath. It doesn’t deserve all of the attention you’re paying it.”

“Jealous, are you?” Zephyr says as Fàilbhe reaches for his notebook, feeling her mouth curve into a little smile. Hambone’s grin widens, and that same strange little flutter begins in her chest again. For all of his irritating habits and his terrible nickname, there’s no denying that her kinsman is the handsome sort; long and lithe, with a curtain of white hair that flutters gently around his shoulders despite the water weighing it down. He carries a particular kind of confidence with him too, the sort that the world-trodden carry when they’ve discovered their place in the grand scheme of things. She finds herself watching the way it settles around him like a cloak, the way his bright eyes crinkle at the corners with his watching of her, the charming little turn of his smile -

Fàilbhe’s hand on her shoulder nearly makes her jump out of her skin.

Are you okay? is written in the notebook that he offers towards her with his other hand. ‘You’ is underlined three times, and she watches him shoot a daggered sidelong look to where Hambone is still grinning at the both of them across the water. A defensive fire joins the pleasant one bubbling in her chest.

“Of course I’m okay,” she says with a sniff, straightening in her seat. Gods, she had been leaning forward, hadn’t she? “It’s just water, Fàilbhe. It’s not like to kill me. Not this time, anyway.”

Fàilbhe’s mouth twitches into the beginnings of a smile at her joke, but his expression remains grimly unconvinced. He sets his notebook aside just as she opens her mouth to reassure him a second time, and the hand that has been lingering on her shoulder suddenly reaches up and drapes itself over her forehead instead.

An involuntary shudder passes over her spine. Fàilbhe's fingers have calluses worn into the tips, the sort that come from simple working labors; from spinning thread, braiding rope, caulking the seams of a home. They tickle pleasantly against the curve of her temple. Her ears suddenly feel like they’re burning.

“Fàilbhe,” she says, swallowing hard to keep her voice firm, “Fàilbhe, please, I’m fine…”

He ignores her, keeping his hand there for a few more long heartbeats as his eyes narrow with concentration. Then he frowns, pulls back, and Zephyr’s fraying wits get one single moment of reprieve before he leans forward again and presses a gentle kiss to her brow.

The sensible part of her recognizes the gesture, of course. Hands lain on foreheads often missed the burn of fever-heat that Fàilbhe is clearly checking for; lips pressed there usually did not. The sensible part of her knows that what he’s doing is a noble thing, a kind thing, too kind by half for all of the hell she gives him, in fact. But even the sensible part of her seems to be having trouble explaining that particular notion to the familiar warmth that is slowly beginning to creep through the curve of her belly.

She stays perfectly still as Fàilbhe holds his lips flush against her forehead, her breath bound up somewhere in her throat. Thoughts begin creeping in, too powerful to stop: that he’s so close, that she can feel the gentle warmth of his breath against the crown of her head, that she could so easily tilt her head back, just a little, just enough to lean forward and -

He pulls back before the thought gets away from her. She wants to scream.

Feel a bit warm, the words in his book say after a moment of frantic scribbling. Zephyr just stares at him, and that heat in her stomach returns as she notices the edge of a smile on Fàilbhe’s lips. Gods, he’s teasing her.

“The bath is warm,” she sputters as soon as she can find the words, but Fàilbhe has already turned away to scrawl another note into his book. This one, he holds out over her shoulder, and Zephyr suddenly feels another presence lean down over her.

“You're feeling strange?" Mira's voice, keenly worried, cuts in from overhead. There is a faint shuffling of bare feet on stone, and then she is kneeling at Fàilbhe’s side, barely a hand’s span away. “Zephyr, is something wrong?”

She is already two steps towards settling in for the night, bereft of both her armor and her arming layers, and it's becoming increasingly difficult not to stare at the intricate maze of tattoos that weave over the rounds of muscle in her arms. Her hair, long and unbound, sticks to the dew of her steam-slick skin in wild, curling wisps, like she’s just stepped out of a fight. Zephyr feels the warmth in her stomach roar into a proper fire, twice as hot as before.

“Nothing,” she snaps. She doesn’t trust herself with anything more complicated than that. “I told you, I’m fine.”

In her periphery, Fàilbhe rolls his eyes, and her wits are not quick enough to stop him before he grabs Mira’s hand and places it firmly against her forehead. The fire cooking in her gut rockets up to meet it, scalding everything between her ears with a wild, thrumming heat, and Zephyr watches with resigned horror and delight as realization breaks over Mira’s face.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Oh, I see.”

Smiling that same near-smirk as Fàilbhe, Mira leans back and slips carefully over the edge of the tub, into the water at Zephyr’s side. Behind her, Fàilbhe’s hand slides down to her shoulder, his fingers catching painlessly in the hair at the nape of her neck. It takes every ounce of her willpower not to shudder. They’re both so close. She can feel Mira’s hand find hers under the water, feels her lace their fingers together, feels Fàilbhe lean down and press another kiss into the crown of her head, sending a trail like fire down her arm and up her back as Mira leans towards her cheek…

“Zephyr?”

The vision suddenly lurched away, vanishing like steam wiped away from glass as Zephyr shot awake. The cozy glow of candles had suddenly become a cascade of white-hot light pouring itself directly into her eyes. The plodding warmth that she had resigned herself to was suddenly smothering. Everything was at once too bright, too heavy, too real.

“Sorry!” Mira’s voice swam out of the confusing assault on her senses from somewhere on her right. “Sorry, sorry! I-I didn’t want to wake you, but…. But, well, I can’t, um…” She trailed off as if she were gesturing to something, and whatever words she had been searching for seemed to fail her altogether. Groaning, Zephyr summoned the little bit of her will she felt she could still command and forced her eyes the rest of the way open. All was a painful, stinging blur for a moment; then the stark morning light creeping over the bed receded, and she turned towards the direction of Mira's gesture.

Towards where her hand lay, clutched tightly onto the fabric of the other woman’s shirt.

A torrent of memories, hazy with the substance of a dream, pressed their way forward in Zephyr’s mind, along with a waking realization that broke across her like a cold sweat. She wrenched her hand back, horrified.

“It’s okay!” Mira said, holding out a hand as if to soothe her. Now that she was properly awake, Zephyr noticed that they were both huddled in choking plushness of the wide four poster that they had rented, with Mira propped up on an elbow a few inches away. Both of them were, mercifully, still clothed.

“What -”

“You were muttering in your sleep,” Mira said gently. “I think you might’ve been having a dream. I’m sorry, I know you don’t like to be up this early. I was just trying to get up to get tea for Fàilbhe and I...”

She made a little gesture towards the back of the room - far away, to Zephyr’s intense relief - towards where Fàilbhe was sitting up on a large pile of pillows, looking her over warily. Watching, with those same brilliant eyes...

Grunting, Zephyr yanked herself away from both of them, grabbing as many of the blankets as she could physically get her fingers around and tugging them over her shoulders.

“Go on, then,” she snapped, rolling so that her back was turned. “I honestly don’t care what you two do. Just don’t wake me up again.”

She could practically feel the fire of the looks that Fàilbhe and Mira exchanged in the silence that followed - exasperated, irritated, long-suffering at best - but once it passed, the bed beside her shifted, and she heard bare feet beginning to pad away. A few moments later, the clip-clop of hooves followed.

They left Zephyr in bed for another two hours. She didn’t sleep at all.

#ockiss20 #oc kiss week #my writing #d&d #dnd #oc crap #the zephyr tag #the tea party trio #i've written too much sad for these guys #i figured it was time to humiliate my girl a little #fun fact for those reading: this is a lingering effect!#it's not even magical!#she's just aware that they're attractive now and has to deal with that!#aren't weird dreams about your friends fun?

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sybilius · 4 years

Video

youtube

Ok. so.

This video is read by an ??? autogenerated voice that gave me the feeling I was having an odd hallucination of sorts

Can’t attest for all of the gardening tips -- not a lot of detail in any of them. The video I watched on how to sprout ginger didn’t recommend soaking the ginger overnight, but did say “yeah you can sprout it but it won’t make a difference just plant it”

I cross-check the celery regrow tip and it seems like they’re at least in line with other wisdom on the internet

apparently the carrots thing is useless tho which does not surprise me

I can personally attest for regrowing green onions being “so easy”. Yes it is literally that easy, just don’t throw out your green onion tips!! You can’t regrow them in water forever cause they will get a little soupy and sad but you can ALWAYS regrow them once, if not twice esp if you’re active about changing the water

Didn’t know that about mint and I’ve got some in my fridge so might give that a shot!

I’ve also basically killed my basil plant (RIP) so maybe I should try repropagating from the stuff I got at the grocery store? worth a try!

Cannot say I recommend this video but hey here we are

#gardening #syb reviews gardening videos

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setaripendragon · 5 years

Text

Never Simple - Chapter 2

[Chapter 1] Given that I got distracted by another fandom half way through writing this, I wasn’t actually sure whether I was going to manage to finish it or not, but I came back to it just yesterday and tah-dah~ So, have some more ridiculousness. (Warning for references to... pseudo-cannibalism? Human-possessing monsters that eat humans, anyway, although there is no actual cannibalism going on, just discussions on the subject.)

Ed sat, silent and tense, as Granny checked Al over once again. This time, instead of just frowning deeper, she had a grim smile on her face. “Well, that one seems to be doing the trick.” She announced, and Ed slumped, hanging his head and pressing his eyes shut against yet more tears. He was tired of crying.

We really do need food. Truth insisted, in time with the pang of bottomless hunger that echoed through his stomach.

“Granny?” Ed asked, wiping his nose on the back of his hand and looking up. “Can I have something to eat?” He asked, unable to quite keep the touch of resentment out of his tone. He didn’t like being told what to do at the best of times. Granny snorted at him, giving him a look that was probably for the tone rather than the question, because she was also nodding.

“I’ll bring you boys some stew.” She said, patting Al’s knee before heading for the door.

That’s dead meat. It won’t help. Truth sighed, just as resentful as Ed felt. Ed tried to give a voice in his head the side-eye. It didn’t really work, but it did, at least, manage to get the message across. In case it escaped your notice, oh so clever one, we are not human, we do not need the same things human bodies need to function. We need living meat, preferably grey matter, if we can get it.

“Grey-” Ed choked out, horrified. He was even more horrified by the fact that the thought didn’t actually cause his stomach to turn over like it would have only hours ago. No, instead, his traitorous stomach let out a hopeful little gurgle. “You eat brains?!” He hissed under his breath.

Ideally, yes. The more complex the better. Truth explained, and Ed froze, because he didn’t need to be a genius to understand what that meant.

“No.” He said, a little too loud, and dropped his voice to a vicious whisper as he continued. “I am not killing people just so you can eat them, and I don’t care what you do to me!”

A grumpy silence followed that pronouncement, until Ed was all but vibrating in his seat in a combination of righteous indignation and creeping dread. I will not force you. Truth said, and it felt almost… resentfully apologetic. I am not your master, nor will I punish you if you defy me.

“You literally vivisected me once.” Ed hissed.

I shared with you the knowledge you sought! If you did not like what you learned, then maybe you should have thought twice before asking. Truth retorted coolly, and Ed flinched. You are an aggravating little bastard, and I do not like you. That does not mean that I wish you ill.

Ed… didn’t really believe that, and he knew Truth could tell, but he could at least accept the tentative truce for now. “So… okay. Okay, if- if brains are off the table-” Ed shuddered, dismayed at the fact that that sentence had just come out of his mouth. “-which they are, what… what’re the alternatives?” He asked warily.

After a momentary pause, he could feel Truth relent, uncoiling through Ed. It was weird and invasive, and yet strangely not unpleasant. We can subsist on lesser foods. Truth acknowledged. Eggs, nuts, meat, and fish. But only raw. Cooking it destroys the chemicals we need. Chocolate, as well. Chocolate is good. If Ed didn’t know better, he’d say Truth was purring at the thought of chocolate. That much, Ed could get behind.

He did know, though, that cooking food did alter it at a chemical level. And he supposed, whatever type of being Truth was, it probably didn’t have humanity’s long history of cooking food, so even if it could adapt to it, it hadn’t had the chance. “Raw meat?” Ed asked, despairing.

Grey matter would be best, but yes, raw meat will do in a pinch.

“Raw meat can make humans sick.” Ed pointed out, although he had a feeling it wasn’t going to do him any good.

Sure enough, Truth seemed to find that funny. It will not make me sick, and since I will be the one doing all the digesting, you have nothing to worry about, little alchemist.

“Fuck, fine.” Ed sighed. “But you better not make me throw up the stew either way.”

That was not me. Truth explained, feeling weary and frustrated. Ed couldn’t be bothered to question that out loud, but he focused very intently on his scepticism and incredulity. Just as he seemed to be able to feel Truth’s emotional state, it clearly picked up on his, too, and responded with an explanation that wasn’t so much words as it was concepts and dynamics. The way that the human immune system responded to Truth like a threat, and sought to purge it, and yet it could not, because Truth was everywhere, in every part of Al. This had resulted in a feedback loop, sending the immune system into over-drive, attacking Al as much as Truth, and that was why Al had thrown up the food.

“Is my immune system going to do that?” Ed asked with a grimace.

I do not think so. We are more compatible than I had expected. Truth mused. Ed wanted to ask what the hell that even meant, but before he could, Granny came back, with Winry on her heels, each of them carrying two bowls of stew each. Ed took his gratefully, and watched with relief as Winry poked Al awake, and Al managed to actually keep the food down this time. He had no idea how he was going to convince Granny to feed him raw meat, but any trouble it gave him would be more than worth it for his brother’s life.

Al only got half way through his stew before he was yawning, and Winry gently took the bowl off him. Ed put aside his own bowl to hop up and tuck Al in. “You rest and get better soon, okay, Al?” Ed prompted, and Al nodded, frowning at him slightly.

“You… Don’t do anything stupid, Brother, okay?” He checked, voice gone soupy with encroaching sleep. Ed wanted to scoff and make some grand pronouncement about how he never did anything stupid, but… but just the thought choked him, because it had been his stupid idea that had got Al into this state in the first place, that had- No. Not thinking about it.

“I’ll try.” Ed managed, a little hoarse.

Al gave him a look, a tired smile, and then drifted off.

“Let’s finish our meal in the living room, so we don’t bother him.” Winry suggested, stepping up and grabbing hold of Ed’s elbow, tugging lightly. Ed let her tow him out of the infirmary, Granny following on their heels. “Ed, I-” Winry began once they were in the living room, depositing their dinner on the table and then turning to face him, looking at him all earnestly. It made Ed shift uncomfortably. Winry didn’t finish the thought though, just looked at him for a long moment, brows furrowed, and then threw her arms around him without another word.

Ed tensed up at first, not wanting to give in and allow himself to accept the comfort. He didn’t deserve it. Truth took the matter out of his hands. Literally. His arms came up without his intent or permission, and wrapped around Winry in turn. It’s not about whether we deserve it or not. No one deserves what they’re given. But kindness is rare, and acceptance doubly so. We should take it with gratitude when it’s offered to us.

“Yeah.” Ed agreed, reluctant, but… understanding the wisdom in it, sort of. “Thanks, Winry.” He added, squeezing her, and feeling relieved when he found he could do it without issue. Winry just squeezed him back.

“You’re not alone. You know that, right, Ed?” Winry checked, finally drawing back.

Ed almost managed to muster up a smile for her, but it wobbled and fell away before it could quite make it. “Yeah, I-… Yeah.” He agreed, swallowing back the pain her words provoked. He felt very alone right now, even though he was less alone than even Winry knew. He wanted his mum, and her absence – and his own guilt – made everyone else feel miles away, even the voice inside his head.

Sitting down to finish his dinner, Ed wished that Granny and Winry would talk about something, anything, so that he could distract himself from his thoughts. From the memories all clamouring for his attention. But they weren’t, they were maintaining sombre silence, as if they thought Ed wanted them following his lead or some shit. He felt Truth prod at his memories, not quite taking control like it had before, but clearly calling his attention to its desire to… What? See what he remembered?

Yes.

Ed almost wanted to laugh, bitter and hysterical, but instead, he just let go, let the memory play out, and tried not to loose his dinner at the remembered sounds of bones snapping one after the other. Oh, now that was just cruel. Truth muttered with scorn, but, Ed realised after a moment, not scorn directed at him. Instead, it was aimed at… Sloth. It told him, quietly, offering up a memory of it’s own, of a small amorphous puddle of what looked almost like the clearest, purest water, if water had the consistency of liquid flesh; crystalline blue mottled with glints of white and pale, pastel yellow like light reflecting off the strange ripples of its movement. That one is called Sloth. It is the one you freed when you tried to pull apart things that were never meant to be divided.

Ed put aside the rest of his stew and curled his knees up to hide behind them. Guilt surged up his throat, threatening to bring his half-digested dinner with it, but he swallowed it down. He was also remembering that awful stone doorway and the horror sealed within. It was… one of… one of those? He wondered, struggling to structure the thought into something coherent, and not just an incomprehensible mess of emotion. Truth returned a feeling of assent. How… How many are there? In there?

Uncounted thousands. Perhaps a million or more.

Ed shuddered. That was a horrifying thought – that there were that many of the things – but it was easier to think about that than about Mum and what had happened – what he’d done – to her. What… are they? He wondered.

The insane remnants of my people. Truth told him, and Ed flinched from the undercurrent of age-old grief and guilt that rang through the thing, mirroring the feelings swamping Ed and creating a painfully acute feedback loop. They are ours to watch over, ours to guard, ours to keep contained, lest they break free and ravage your world. I did it to preserve your world, your people, and yet you all persist in tearing at the prison I built. In your ignorance, in your arrogance. Too many are already-

A sudden banging on the door interrupted Truth’s rant, which Ed was both resentful of and a little grateful for, because Truth still scared him a whole hell of a lot, and the thing’s temper was almost as bad as his. On the other hand, Truth had been sharing information, and like any good alchemist, Ed craved knowledge. Especially forbidden or obscure knowledge.

“Who the bloody hell could that be at this hour?” Granny groused as she went to get the door. Ed peeked up over his knees, curious despite himself, as she opened it and revealed two military officers standing outside. “Yes?” Granny snapped. “What do you want?”

The man opened his mouth, spotted Ed over Granny’s head, and closed his mouth in favour of pushing past her and walking right in. His gaze was fixed on Ed, fierce and almost angry, ignoring Granny’s yelled protests. “What have you done?!” The man demanded, one hand coming up as if to grab Ed.

Ed’s body moved without his permission again, flinging him backwards so violently the arm chair actually started to topple even as Ed rolled right over the arm, staggered back, and hit the wall, hands raised defensively. But the man wasn’t coming after him. In fact, he’d frozen where he stood, looking- conflicted. That was the best Ed could describe it. And when it became clear that he wasn’t actually going to attack, Truth relaxed, which meant Ed’s body relaxed, which meant he could control it again.

Are you… scared of him? Ed asked as he straightened warily. The notion of Truth being scared of anything felt wrong to him. It could take people apart at the molecular level, what the hell did it have to be scared of? Which meant that anything that could scare it scared the hell out of Ed just on principle. Or it would, if this guy didn’t just look like a normal guy. Military, sure, but nothing that ought to scare Truth, he didn’t think. Nothing that scared Ed, which meant he kind of wanted the guy to stick around. If he had to put up with Truth inside his mind, then it would just be karma if Truth ended up having to put up with this guy in the same room as them.

“Hey! Leave him alone!” Winry shouted, getting to her feet as well. The military guy barely spared a glance for her, but he did back off a little, his posture changing from something bristling and looming to a straight-backed military type of stance.

“I saw the array at your house.” He said crisply into the silence. “I saw what was left in it.” Ed flinched, throat locking up, and then shot a half-hearted glare over at him. “I’ll ask again. What did you do?” He enunciated every word very clearly, like he was tossing them out like knives, aiming to wound.

Ed closed his eyes, words sticking in his throat. Answer the man. Truth murmured, snide enough that Ed was pretty sure it had detected his earlier thoughts about wanting it to know what it felt like to be stuck with someone who scared the shit out of you.

“Oh, fuck you.” Ed snapped half-heartedly. He said it out loud for the military man’s benefit, but it was equally pointed in Truth’s direction. The guy’s eyebrows rose at the insolence, but he didn’t lose his temper again, so at least there was that. “I-” He choked, gritted his teeth, and tried again, shoving down the awful churning emotions that were threatening to steal his voice. “I fucked up, alright? I fucked up, and-” Ed’s throat closed up despite his best efforts, and his legs gave out on him. He sank down the wall to sit on the floor and buried his face in his knees, so at least no one would see him crying, even if they all had to know that he was doing.

“If you wouldn’t mind not harassing my patient?” Granny snapped into the silence.

“My apologies.” The military guy offered smoothly. “There appeared to be… biological matter inside that circle, and that, you understand, is… concerning.” He pointed out, and Granny grunted in a way that was probably acknowledgement and agreement. There was a long pause. “Who was it?” The man asked, which meant he clearly understood enough of what the array was for that Ed was in deep shit anyway.

“Our mum.” Ed rasped out.

The military lady, who’d so far been a silent shadow to – Ed guessed – her superior, sucked in a sharp, horrified little breath. “I see. And, forgive me, but what happened to your brother?” The memory of Al’s face wearing Truth’s grin flashed through his mind and he flinched violently and curled in on himself, guilt making any explanation feel impossible.

Granny picked up his slack. “He’s not well, but he’s recovering.”

“What happened?” The military guy asked.

Granny made a dubious noise, but answered the question as best she could. “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest, but-” Ed tuned the rest of the explanation out, because he didn’t want to hear his failures spelled out in Granny’s brisk, practical way.

We are getting very hungry, little alchemist. Truth warned him.

Fuck’s sake, I can’t just- Granny is right there! Ed retorted, peeking up over his knees to where Granny was gesturing for the military goons to join her at the dining table as she talked.

Yes. She is, isn’t she? Truth responded ominously.

What’s that supposed to mean?!

It means that we must eat something, something nutritional for me, or our hunger will consume us. I could start eating bits of you, but then you will start to fail, and I will fail with you. Better to eat somebody else. Truth explained, still with that edge of dark impatience.

You piece of shit, fine! Ed hauled himself to his feet, resentful and reluctant, but not actually willing to keep pushing Truth, in case it did follow through on it’s threat. Granny cut off mid-sentence to look over at him, but he waved her off.

It was a warning, not a threat. Truth groused.

Sounded like a fucking threat to me! Ed snapped back, lacing the thought with all the impotent fury he felt. He yanked the freezer open and crouched down to see that Granny actually had a huge bag of already chopped- something. Probably lamb. He grabbed the whole thing, slammed the freezer shut, and emptied it out into one of the big mixing bowls.

We do not want to harm people! Truth exploded, just as furious as Ed. It was loud enough, even inside Ed’s head, to make him startle. Truth’s next thoughts were far less aggressive, quieter, almost soft. We don’t want to simply consume everything in our path like some kind of plague, but I am a living creature, just as you, and we must eat to survive. One cannot help one’s nature, and no creature should ever have to apologise for existing.

…That’s fair. Ed acknowledged gracelessly, and apologised by way of shoving a handful of frozen lamb chunks into his mouth. Before he could do more than register that this was going to be gross, something changed. Truth surged up, and the next thing Ed knew, his teeth had grown into points designed for rending flesh, and his tongue felt… weird. Different. But at least the difference meant that instead of tasting gross, the frozen meat actually tasted like sunshine felt. You gave me fucking synaesthesia. He complained half-heartedly.

Your human senses are so limited. Truth mocked. You can’t even tell when someone is approaching you from behind. It added, and Ed turned to see Winry standing in the doorway, watching him with wide, worried eyes.

“…Ed?” Winry asked tentatively, eyes flicking from his face to the bowl he was cradling in his arm.

Ed decided there was literally no way he could explain this without worrying her even more, and if he did that, she might start crying, and that would be unacceptable. So belligerence it was. “What?” He demanded, mustering up a scowl.

“Are you… um…” Winry trailed off, not even bothering to try and stay focused on his face anymore. “What are you…?”

“M’hungry.” Ed snapped defensively, and then pushed past her back into the front room, trying to escape. Of course, he’d forgotten that there were even more people to explain himself to in there, but he was here now, so he set his jaw and went to join the grown-ups at the dining table. They all accepted his presence without comment for the first three seconds, and then Granny did a dramatic double-take.

“What he hell are you eating, pipsqueak?” She demanded, leaning forwards to try and get a look at the contents of the bowl.

“Food.” Ed retorted, entirely truthful and entirely unhelpful.

“Is that- Edward Elric, what do you think you’re doing, eating raw meat straight from the freezer?! You’re going to make yourself sick! As if one of you coming down with something isn’t bad enough!” Granny exclaimed, trying to grab the bowl off Ed. He jerked it out of her reach and curled around it defensively.

“It’s fine!” Ed protested, and proved his point by shoving another handful into his mouth, chewing the bare minimum, and then swallowing. “See?” Granny made a noise like a boiling kettle, and then threw her hands in the air. In the back of Ed’s head, Truth was laughing. You’re an asshole. Ed informed it resentfully, and popped another chunk of raw sunshine-flavoured meat into his mouth.

The problem was, Ed could already tell that Truth hadn’t been fucking him around. Not even a quarter of the way through the bowl, and he could already feel the difference. Truth had been starving, maybe even to the point of dying of it, if Ed hadn’t gone along with it’s demands.

It is very, very difficult for one of us to die of starvation. If we become too diminished, we simply… hibernate. We can maintain that state for a very long time before even that takes too much from us, and we perish. But I have gone a long, long time without sustenance.

How long? Ed wondered, as the adults hesitantly picked up their conversation. Military guy was saying something about human transmutation being illegal, and Granny was snapping back defensively. Ed thought he probably ought to care about that, but it was hard to muster up the energy.

We can’t actually remember. Truth admitted.

That… had to be a long time. Ed shook the thought off, and listened to the military guy giving Granny soothing platitudes with half an ear. He caught more of Ed’s attention when he looked over, and Ed forced himself to actually pay attention when the guy switched to talking directly to him. Ed was a little impressed that, despite one, faintly pained glance, the guy didn’t show a hint of being disconcerted by Ed’s choice of snack. “I first came out to Risembool with the intention of offering to sponsor your application for the State Alchemist program. I reconsidered once I learned how young you were, but in light of everything, I think perhaps you might benefit from applying, regardless.” Ed blinked, too stunned to react.

We should do it. Truth decided.

“Wait, what?” Ed blurted out before he could stop himself.

“You – and your brother – are clearly alchemical prodigies, and-” The guy began, but Ed lost track of what he was saying in favour of listening to Truth.

We must find Sloth, and the others, and return them to the Gate. The military is as good a place to start as any. They have resources we could use, and given that the others will be as hungry as we are, your military is bloody enough to be prime hunting grounds. Truth explained.

Ed went very, very still. I thought that thing- that- Sloth. I thought it had- died, or- or gone back to the Gate already. He thought in horror. It had dissolved, hadn’t it? Turned into a puddle of biological ooze, and slipped back into that place.

No. Your mother’s body ‘dissolved’, as I showed you yours could be. But that is our natural form. It is not anathema to us as it is for you. It would not have harmed Sloth to return to that state. To remain so without a host would eventually kill it, so Sloth would not have remained in your house for long.

Shit, okay. Ed thought, closing his eyes for a beat. He didn’t even need to think about it, really. If the thing that killed Mum was out there, he wanted to find it and put it back behind the Gate where it couldn’t hurt anyone else ever again.

And this man will be very useful. Truth added.

Ed closed his mouth without letting the affirmative answer that had been on his tongue spill out into the air. The military guy gave him a curious look, but then kept talking, a little more keenly, pushing a little harder to convince him. I thought you were scared of him? Ed questioned.

He is very dangerous to my kind. But we are hunting my kind. Truth pointed out, a little amused at Ed’s expense.

Ed wanted to pull a face at it, but didn’t dare, with the military guy’s attention fixed so thoroughly on him. Dangerous how? He wondered, to which Truth responded with a feeling of suspicion and mistrust. Ed actually did roll his eyes before he could stop himself. I already agreed that I want to find Sloth as much as you do. He pointed out, and Truth relaxed.

“Something the matter, Mr Elric?” The military guy drawled, unimpressed.

Ed blinked, and then realised he’d gone and rolled his eyes, and this guy had no way of knowing it was at the voice in Ed’s head, not him. “Uh…”

Ask him who he is. Truth suggested.

Right. “I just realised I don’t even know who the fuck you are.” Ed pointed out.

The guy huffed faintly, amused. “Fair point. I’m Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, The Flame Alchemist, and this is my adjutant, Major Riza Hawkeye. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He offered dryly, holding out a hand for Ed to shake like they were both respectable grown ups. Ed almost wanted to laugh, but before he could, Truth moved his body again, reaching out to shake the man’s hand, and then, with a faint sense of amused trepidation, used the grip to turn Mustang’s hand over so Ed could see the array stitched on the back of his glove.

It was an impressive piece of alchemy, that was for sure. Simple and streamlined to the point that Ed was certain there was a lot more to it that Mustang was doing in his head, on the fly, for every different transmutation. Fire was notoriously tricky to do anything with, with alchemy, after all. Ed wished he was better studied in that arena, because even though he could pick out a few details from the circle, it was simple enough that he couldn’t even begin to put the pieces together and figure out how the thing even worked-

And then Truth was unspooling the knowledge inside his head. Fire at the heart, of course, integral but small because all that was needed was a spark, because the key ingredient, the main function of the array wasn’t to create fire, but to create fuel. Air and earth, interwoven and interlinked, because- Oh, fuck, of course, Ed thought, eyebrows rising in incredulous awe. Fire needed to breathe, and with enough flammable gasses concentrated in one place, the air could be the fuel.

There was so much more to it than that, so much excruciating detail was necessary to make it work, but with enough experience and knowledge, that could be done on the fly, and adjusted as needed to the circumstances. The basics, though, were there, so fucking simple Ed felt stupid for needing help to figure it out. Not stupid. Reverse engineering something like this would be the work of a lifetime for any normal alchemist.

“Okay, now that’s amazing.” Ed breathed. I didn’t know you knew alchemy. Other than… biological alchemy, anyway.

Truth laughed at him again. Arrogant little alchemist, it said, and it sounded almost fond, I invented alchemy.

Ed had no idea what to even do with that statement, so it was a bit of a relief when Mustang spoke up and distracted him from the increasing laughter inside his head. “Ah, thank you.” He said, sounding a little bewildered. “You, ah… can decipher it?”

“Enough.” Ed acknowledged with a grin. “It’s pretty sneaky, though.” He added.

Show off. Truth huffed, no longer laughing. Ed projected an imagining of him sticking his tongue out at it, to the tune of gloating laughter of his own.

Mustang pinched the bridge of his nose like Ed’s admission physically pained him, which was also pretty funny. “That is actually terrifying.” The man muttered. Hawkeye, too, looked entirely stunned, her mouth was actually a little agape as she stared. Ed looked at her a little curiously.

“Are you an alchemist, too?” He asked.

She blinked once, and then offered him a faint smile. “No, but my father was.”

Ed nodded, and tried not to pull a face. That just made him think of his own deadbeat dad, and he didn’t want Hawkeye thinking it was directed at her. To his surprise, he felt the same rolling disgust and scorn that he was feeling coming from Truth at the thought of his father. Why do you hate him? He wondered, baffled, but only for a moment, because, well, it was obvious. Hadn’t Ed gotten the idea to- to do what he did from one of his dad’s old books, from a handwritten note in one of his dad’s old books? Oh, right, did he, uh… free one of those things, too?

Yes. Truth projected the affirmation forcefully. More than one.

Ed wasn’t sure whether to feel horrified or vindicated by that, and settled for just letting Truth share his anger. Funnily enough, it did seem to help them both. “Well, Mr Elric?” Mustang asked, breaking Ed out of his thoughts – his conversation with Truth – and drawing him back to the present. Ed raised his brows at him, and fished around in the bottom of his bowl for the last few bits of meat. “Have I persuaded you to apply for a State Alchemist licence?” Mustang asked with a hopeful, encouraging smile.

“Yeah, sure, whatever. I’ll do it.” Ed agreed.

“You what?!” Winry yelped.

“Edward…!” Granny added, entirely thrown and vaguely appalled. Even Hawkeye looked unhappy, lips pressed into a thin line.

Only Mustang didn’t seem shocked, instead hiding a smug bastard little smirk behind his interlaced fingers. “Excellent. The next Exam is in eight months. I suggest you come to Central a little earlier, to give yourself time to adjust and perhaps get a little studying time in the libraries there.” Ed shrugged, because he really didn’t care about the logistics. Mustang eyed him for a moment, then without comment turned to Granny to discuss the details. That was fine by Ed, really, and he let their voices drift out of focus as he contemplated the empty mixing bowl. Still hungry? He asked tentatively.

Yes. Truth admitted. But we will survive a few more days without proper sustenance.

Ed didn’t really want to think about the logistics of that, either, so he didn’t. “I’m going to go check on Al.” He said out loud, and slunk away with the feel of Mustang’s assessing gaze prickling on the back of his neck.

#Fullmetal Alchemist #Edward Elric #Winry Rockbell #Roy Mustang #Truth #Venom crossover #alien symbiotes #I'm pretty sure the whole 'eats brains' thing #comes from fanon #but Venom was a bit spefically keen on heads in the movie #and it does ramp up the horror factor by a few degrees #so I went with it

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